Chastity

Chastity sends Leo a scathing message about their writing. Leo responds with a challenge.

CW: blasphemy, edging, marijuana use, fingering, strap-on sex, tickling, bondage, collar and leash, sexual shame from religion, lack of aftercare, Daddy kink, Sir kink

 

Chapter 1

 

Chastity, Monday, 9:53pm

I hit send, my heart rate leveling out for the first time since I read it. Filthy. “Pride.” All these gays want is to shove their sex in my face, in public. At least in this story it was restricted to one of those bars. I had to let the author know the depths of their depravity. 

SoulfulChristian52794: “Your poor mind must be a swirling vortex of never-ending filth. Rise above your basest instincts and contribute something positive to the human race. You cater to bottom-dwellers and encourage perversion – you were made for more than this.”

Disgusted, I set my phone down. At least I’d said something about it. I feel a hot rage inside me from reading the repulsive thoughts of this sinner. I can feel it in my very core. 

My phone buzzes. I’d shared screenshots of my comment with my Faith in Following 🙏✝️ group chat, even though it’s late. Maybe Emmylyee will still be up to pray with me after I witnessed this perversion.

But it isn’t the group chat. It’s Instagram.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I noticed we’re both in the same city. Maybe you should come say that to my face.”

I flush red hot, my heartbeat rushing in my ears as my eyes scan the screen over and over.

“Enjoyed it”? Excuse me? And this filthy, depraved, nasty… sinner lives here too? I’m disgusted to share a city with them. A bus seat, the same table at the diner, the same air… I must flee from sin… so why do I feel so drawn to witness to this person? To share my testimony with them? 

What do I text back to this… this pervert? I can’t back down – my faith is stronger than their filth. I must stand up for my morals. I’m feeling bold.

SoulfulChristian52794: “I would happily say it to your face. You are living in sin, and someone needs to help you.” 

I don’t know why I sent it. But something inside of me, something at my very core burns knowing this person is near me, dreaming up this stuff – heaven forbid even doing some of it. Something in me tells me I have to pray with them. It’s on my heart to share my witness.

My phone buzzes again.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: “Oh you want to help me? Okay. You can tell me the good news on Friday at 7 at Ruby’s Diner.”

I panic. Why does instagram tell them I’ve seen the message?! My heart is pounding and I’m so…mad? Not quite, but my body is burning and my mind is racing in circles. What did I do? What do I do? I know I should reach out to my Faithful Followers — why hasn’t Emmylyee texted me back yet?! This is a crisis of Christ! 

I open the text thread, then stop. Something in me says this will be better as a story of the triumph of faith rather than my crisis of Biblical proportions. I’ll tell my church friends about it when this Butch4ButchBoytoy shows up at Bible Study, reformed from their sinful ways.

Besides, I think, I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was reading that disgusting story for fun. I feel a fire in my core again, squeezing my eyes to shut out the images of what I read. But the burning still won’t go away.

* * *

Leo, Monday, 10:26pm

Seen by SoulfulChristian52794 at 10:26pm

Dammit, I think. No reply. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. I put my phone down, laughing to myself, and go back to writing until the clock strikes midnight and I yawn, rubbing my eyes. I gently fold my laptop closed, tuck it away, and crawl into bed. I think about Monday morning at my new job at a civil rights law firm and the week ahead of me, and my mind drifts to the end of the week, Friday night. I wonder…

Three days later, my phone dings for Instagram and I assume it’s another message from a mutual. I open my phone on my Wednesday lunch break and it’s SoulfulChristian52794.

SoulfulChristian52794: “I’ll be there with my Bible, and I’ll be praying for you.”

I scoff and leave the message unopened, returning to my work researching housing law for our clients who are about to be evicted.

* * *

Chastity, Friday, 6:12PM

I tie my hair back into a low ponytail with a ribbon, then let it loose again. I’ve witnessed to many people since my rebirth as a Christian in my early teens, but I’ve never been nervous about what to wear. 

Something modest, right? Right. Perhaps a simple blue blouse and a khaki skirt, especially since this Butch4ButchBoytoy is already prone to stumbling. I guess it doesn’t matter what I wear with a mind so full of filth anyway. I change into my blue button down, but leave on my skinny jeans. Gays like skinny jeans, right? Maybe if I seem more relatable they’ll be more open to hearing my message. Maybe if they’re attracted I can get them to listen…

No. Why would I ever want a gay person to feel that way about me? I’m not gay. When I was 12, just before my rebirth, I took a quiz on the internet and it said so. Or, it said I was only 31% gay. That’s not gay. I got a failing grade in gay, so I’m not gay. Everyone feels that way a little bit. 

I think about putting on some makeup to freshen up, but I’m running late already and the traffic in this city is too bad to leave to chance. I guess I look okay: clean-faced, long straight hair, jeans, button-up. My mom would tell me I look like a boy, but she always says that when I’m not all dolled up. 

I sigh at the mirror and rush out the door to Ruby’s. 

* * *

Leo, Friday, 7:02pm

I’m waiting in the back corner booth, wearing my shiny black Solovairs, freshly polished from the last leather kink event I went to. My chain is itchy around my neck, like I’m nervous about something. I had a lot of confidence in my DMs, but who knows who this person could be? I’ve met a lot of Christians who don’t act very Christ-like. They could be twice my size and ready to bash me with a bible rather than quote scripture at me.

I had a big ego when they insulted me via DM, but now that we’re about to be face-to-face, I’m shrinking down and fearing the worst. 

The bell tinkles as the front door slams shut behind a woman, small in stature, wearing a light blue button-up with skinny jeans hugging the curves of her body. She’s carrying two small books, arms wrapped around herself. She looks around nervously, catching my gaze and looking like a deer in headlights, frozen, wide eyed, mouth open. 

She shakes herself out of her shock and checks her phone, scrolling, and finds what she was looking for. She takes a deep breath and stands tall, marching over to my booth and plopping down. I look at the title of the books she’s dropped to the table, reading upside down slowly. “The Holy Bible.” Yep. I’ve found SoulfulChristian52794

“Hi, Chastity,” I say first, sounding a little smug.

“Hello, Leo,” she says, sounding terse, and maybe a little nervous. 

“So,” I say, motioning to the table where the bibles lay. “What’s the good news?” I smirk.

“The good news is,” she says, “that you can still be saved from your sins.”

“From my sins?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, stirring the straw in my red plastic cup of Coca-Cola.

“Yes, your many sins,” she says, face turning red.

“Tell me about my sins,” I challenge her. The redness deepens.

“Y-you –” she stammers. 

I let her stutter, relishing in her awkwardness for a few seconds, piercing her through with my gaze. I’m starting to feel more than just a little smug. I pull out my phone and look at the notes app, reminding myself of verses I’d looked up earlier.

“Fine. Let’s turn to the good book, shall we?” I grab one of her bibles, thumbing through the Old Testament until I find the Song of Solomon. “Ah, yes, my favorite.”

“You have… a favorite verse?” she asks, bewildered – hopeful? My smirk deepens as I push the Bible toward her, finger marking the line I was looking for.

“I do,” I say with a smile. “Would you like to read it? It’s Song of Solomon 7:1-3.”

Her face flushes as her eyes scan the page. “This isn’t the –”

“Read it aloud,” I cut her off, my voice barely above a growl.

She has some sort of internal struggle for a moment, pressing her lips together, but she relents and begins to read in a hushed voice: “How beautiful are your sandaled feet, princess! / The curves of your thighs are like jewelry, / the handiwork of a master. / Your navel is a rounded bowl; / it never lacks mixed wine. / Your waist is a mound of wheat / surrounded by lilies. / Your breasts are like two fawns, / twins of a gazelle.”

She finishes the last lines in a whisper. 

“Kinky,” I reply, leaning back against the booth, crossing my arms across my chest.

“It’s not –” she tries to say.

“It is,” I say, interrupting confidently. “This is your good book, Chastity.” Flipping the page, I point to another verse. “There’s more.”

Her eyes scan the page again and I hear her breath catch. 

“Aloud.” My voice is commanding, like a pastor at church. I haven’t felt this powerful, this in control outside the bedroom or courtroom in a long time.

“Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.” She breathes the verse.

“Again. Louder.”

“What?” Chastity’s voice croaks. Her ears and cheeks are red and she’s frozen, staring at me in shock.

“If you’re so confident in this book you worship, read it again. Let the whole diner hear the good word.”

“I won’t – I can’t –”

“Can’t what, Chastity? Can’t admit that your Godly book is just as sexual as me or anyone else… even you?” I glance at my phone’s notes for a quote and read to Chastity: “‘O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine.’ Chapter 1, verse 2. Desire is human, Chastity. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I wink and slide out of the booth, heading to the women’s room.

* * *

Chastity, Friday, 7:15pm

I sit, speechless and stunned, sputtering and stammering as Leo leaves the booth before I can even start reciting the verses I had prepared for this witnessing. 

I’m feeling angry again. Furious. My blood is hot and I felt an electric spark through my body when they locked eyes with me and recited “O that you would kiss me.” As if they were flirting with me or something, as if they were asking me for real. Disgusting! I would never want that. I’m not gay. I need Leo to know that I’m not gay. 

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m jumping up from the booth and storming to the women’s room, where I swing open the door to Leo washing their hands. We look at each other in the mirror. 

“I’m not gay,” I blurt. “I just –” I stumble for words. “I need you to know that I’m not gay, and I would never kiss you.” 

Leo laughs. Laughs at me.

“Okay?” they say, still giggling. “Whatever you say, Chastity.” They dry their hands and turn to me, approaching with paper towels. “Anyway… I definitely didn’t ask you to kiss me.” They lean past me to reach for the garbage can. We’re in close proximity now, and I can smell their woodsy, masculine cologne. Our faces are inches apart. “If I’d asked you to kiss me, you’d know it. But really, I’m going to wait for you to ask me.”

It takes a second for me to register what Leo just said. “W-what? I’m not going to ask you that!” I sputter.

“Sure, Chastity. And you’re not gay, in that baby butch button-up and LHB hair, turned on from a butch reciting you a bible verse?”

Leo’s eyes travel down to my blouse and back up. Their gaze sends another jolt of electricity through me, landing in my low belly. Anger, I tell myself. How dare they look at me like that? And what the heck is LHB?

“I’m not – I wasn’t –” I can feel my face growing red and hot. “Why are you – Why are you doing this? Why are you making me feel these things?”

Leo grins at me, looking straight into my eyes. Their eyes are green. I can still smell their cologne.

“Your good book made you feel all of these things.”

“No –” I protest. But it did. 

Oh. 

It did. 

Leo pushes past me, and the bathroom door swings shut behind them.

I look in the mirror, at my splotchy red face and wide eyes, breathing hard, and I haven’t, but – I look like I could have just been kissed. I feel dizzy and I lean against the brick wall of the bathroom, catching my breath. When I gather myself, smoothing down the front of my blouse, I swallow my nerves and press the door open. The booth in the back is empty, and I try to tell myself that the swirling in my stomach isn’t disappointment. I walk closer and see my two bibles sitting on the table, one of them open to the Song of Solomon, Chapter 1, verse 2.

 

Chapter 2

Chastity, Friday, 9:12pm

I’m reading through the entire Song of Solomon tonight, determined to find something to prove Leo wrong. I fail. It’s the most sexual part of the Bible I’ve ever read, and I have no rebuttal for them.

I find myself pulling up Leo’s writing portfolio. There’s an older story that I haven’t seen before – Forgive Me Father. I click on it, glancing over my shoulder, even though I live alone. This one is co-written with someone called thedevilisadyke. Wow. These sinners really lay it on thick. My eyes start to read before I know what’s happening: 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

You begin your confession with your head hung low, hands in your lap. 

“It has been 40 days since my last confession.”

I’m mesmerized, and an hour later, I find myself furious with indignation and righteous anger. How dare they mock my religion in this way? How dare they talk of defiling a church – a sacred space! Using a Bible for spanking, for removing wax – what kind of person pours wax on themself? Using Bible verses for kink, for seduction… It’s foul. It’s filth. It’s perverse. It’s – it’s – 

It’s so hot to imagine. 

My skin is hot, my pulse is throbbing in my pants, and I feel a familiar guilty wetness between my legs… I reach down beneath my jeans, rubbing myself through my panties, and I jerk at the sensations running through me. I cover my face with my other hand, as if I can hide from God, hide from the shame of what I’m doing to myself. 

I rarely masturbate, and I feel enormously guilty after I do, but… I have an old friend from middle school of all things who turned out a little wilder than me. A few years ago, she gifted me a cheap rabbit vibrator that she got for free at a sex shop. I keep it buried in my nightstand drawer and pull it out approximately once a year, when my basest urges overwhelm me and I give in to sin. 

This is one of those nights. 

I start slowly, staying clothed, still in my skinny jeans and light blue button-up. I turn on the pink translucent vibe and unbutton my jeans, rubbing myself through my panties and gasping at the sensation. It… feels… so… good… in the delicious way that only a sin can. I’m possessed by the devil. I can’t help myself. 

Shame and guilt swirl through me and fuel the heat and lust throbbing in my core. I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s heavenly and addictive, and I want to. I want this. My hips begin to rut on the vibrator of their own accord. 

“Oh!” I cry out when the vibrator hits the right spot. I feel the flush on my skin and my forehead begins to bead with sweat. Screw it, I think. I turn off the vibrator and unbutton my shirt with shaking hands. I pull off my bra and pull down my pants, my panties. 

A thought pops into my mind before I can stop it: I imagine how often Leo is like this: naked, and wet, and wanting. How often their writing makes them pause and stop to… take care of themself. 

I shake my head and ignore how the thought made me throb. I reach for the vibrator, turning it on and bringing it to rub myself. I lick my lips as the pleasure sparks in my core. My mind flashes to my memory of Leo standing mere inches from my face, looking and smelling masculine with their cologne and black t-shirt, grinning at me and glancing down my body… Teasing me with their arrogant smile. 

A jolt strikes through the center of my body when I remember them deepening their androgynous voice and reciting: “O that you would kiss me.” I imagine them saying it for real. I imagine them kissing me. I imagine them kissing me now, while I’m naked and grinding onto a toy, and their hands are in my hair and holding my jaw while their tongue slides over my lips, teeth nipping… 

I feel myself getting close, and I pull the vibe away. I’m greedy, so greedy. I want to be… I hate to be crass. As Leo would say, I want to be fucked before I cum. 

“Put on a show for me,” I imagine Leo saying, standing over me, watching me touch myself. 

My face burns with shame, desire, humiliation, lust. 

The toy slides into me easily, and I moan out as it reaches the hilt and the buzzing rabbit attachment reaches my clit.

“Please,” I start to whisper to myself. “Please, please, please…” 

‘Please what?’ Leo asks. 

“Please… Can I cum?”

‘No,’ Leo says in a commanding tone.

I whimper, pulling the toy in and out of myself. 

“Please, I’m so close.”

‘No. Beg for it.’

“Oh God,” I say without thinking, taking the Lord’s name in vain. “Oh fuck. Oh. Please. Please. Please, I’ll be so good for you. I’ll be so bad for you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

‘Whatever I want?’ Leo asks.

I whimper and nod, fucking myself harder with the toy, gasping and rutting. 

‘Then cum for me, Chastity. Now,’ they command.

I do.

It’s so easy; I just tip over the edge and let go, screaming my orgasm to my empty bedroom. Buzzing, electric pleasure pulses through my clit, my core, my whole body. 

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” I whisper as I come down, blushing furiously.

Suddenly, the buzzing of the pink toy is loud and painful. I pull the toy out of me slowly, fumbling for the off switch. I toss it aside and lay panting on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, beginning to imagine my own damnation for this. Naked in my post-orgasm glow, burning in the fires of hell.

I’m doomed.

Chapter 3

Leo, Sunday, 10:49am

SoulfulChristian52794: Attached post: Forgive Me, Father

SoulfulChristian52794: You are better than this blasphemous filth.

SoulfulChristian52794: I’ll be praying for you today.

I see the Instagram message at a Spongebob-themed drag brunch. (Honestly, Mr. Krabs is sexy, and his schtick of grabbing dollar bills from the crowd with his red claws is funny and cute.) I scoff and share the DM with my friends after the performances, rolling our eyes and laughing. I’d caught them up on the Friday night drama over mimosas, and they all said one thing: Chastity’s gay.

The devil on my shoulder tells me to reply “okay dyke” like Tig Notaro. But the angel on my shoulder tells me to reply something else.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: Thanks, Chastity. Have a good service.

Okay, the devil gets the better of me.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: I hope you enjoyed your reading. 😉

I can’t help but notice the messages are marked seen at 11:04am. Right after church has started. 

* * *

Chastity, Sunday, 11:04am

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my ankle-length khaki skirt. I shouldn’t check it – not now, not in the Lord’s house. But I guess it’s okay. The band is playing and the worship team is just starting their first song. We haven’t technically started praying yet. 

I check my phone. Just to mute it, I tell myself. My eyes scan the text from Leo and my mind flashes to the night before last, flooded with images of my own depravity as my body shook around my illicit toy. A moan nearly escapes my lips; I quickly catch it and begin to hum the hymn I know by heart.

My face is hot. I silence my phone and fan myself with a program.

Good thing Jesus is in the business of forgiveness.

The service ends and Emmylyee has to nudge me out of my trance in order to leave the pew. I’m so… mad? That has to be it. My face is hot and I couldn’t even focus on Pastor Keyth’s sermon about the unborn babies we have to save. It’s one thing for Leo to publish this filth for everyone to see. It’s another for it to invade my mind, my church, my sacred space. 

I have to get this – them – out of my head. 

Maybe I just need to get this out of my system.

They’d never actually do anything with me anyway. Maybe getting close enough to the fire to feel the burn of rejection will set my heart back on the righteous path. Maybe I just need to suffer the humiliation of asking for this unholy union to be reminded why my safety and comfort is in the path of the Lord.

SoulfulChristian52794: It has inaccuracies in the scripture. Maybe we can meet up and I can be the one to show YOU around the Bible.

I see that they’re typing, then they stop. Typing again. Then they stop. And again.

Seen at 12:17PM

There’s a pit in my stomach and I make myself say a quick prayer for Jesus to set my heart on the path of righteousness. This is exactly what I asked for – why do I feel so hollow?

I walk to my car in a daze and pull up Google Maps on my phone to drive home. An Instagram notification pops up over the map.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: Sure, Chastity. I’m almost home. Here’s my address. Come over today.

I freeze. That doesn’t sound like rejection. I didn’t plan for this. What do I do? I glance around the parking lot guiltily, like someone from church might see the sin written on my face.

Slowly, barely breathing, fingers trembling, I plug Leo’s address into Google Maps and hit start.

The whole drive over I feel like I’m being led by someone else. My heart is racing and the 20 minute drive feels like an hour. Why am I doing this?

Google Maps tells me I’ve arrived at my destination and I steady my breath. I grab my bible from the passenger seat and walk quickly toward apartment 6 before I can stop and turn around. I have no idea what I’m doing here. I knock softly and nearly turn away before the gentle shuffling of the door puts me face to face with Leo.

A smile turns up a corner of their lips. “Hi, Chastity,” they greet me, glancing down at my church outfit but saying nothing. 

“Hi, Leo,” I reply, feeling a little breathless, heart pounding. I tell myself it was just the brisk walk.

They’re wearing a plain white t-shirt today with black jeans and another chain necklace. It suits them. Leo steps aside and motions to their living room, where a large bong sits on a coffee table next to a vase of flowers. We sit down on the couch and I cling to my bible, trying to think through the fog of my mind to my most inspirational bible verses. 

They study my face, not saying a word. I shift uncomfortably against the soft gray couch, fumbling with the edges of the bible’s pages. Seconds pass like minutes with their eyes on me. Finally, they break the silence.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Arizona tea? I assume you’re not a beer person…”

I don’t know why, but their hospitality catches me off guard.

“Water,” I rasp. My mouth is dry. They rise and I can hear the clink of ice from the kitchen. They return with the water and I realize just how many muscles I have to unclench to take the glass from them.

Our thumbs brush and I feel a spark through my whole body. I steady my breath, hoping they don’t notice.

“Why did you come here?” Leo asks, voice low.

I gesture toward my bible. “Well – you got some things wrong and I –”

“No. Why did you really come here?” they interrupt. Something about their voice, confident and definitive, makes me sit up straighter. 

“I – I didn’t think you’d – I didn’t think we’d –” I stammer. None of this is going how I’d planned, and yet here I am. I could get up and leave at any moment and yet I stay.

“Didn’t think… what?” Leo asks patiently.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again. I thought –” I pause, not wanting to say the rest of my sentence. 

Leo waits patiently for me to go on. I don’t. Finally, they ask gently, “You thought what, Chastity?” 

“I thought… that your rejection would help me move on from temptation.” 

I exhale deeply as I finish my sentence, my eyes darting back and forth between Leo and the glass of water gathering condensation on the coffee table. 

“Temptation?” Leo asks. They don’t ask it arrogantly or seductively, like I would have expected. They ask it with curiosity and gentleness. 

My throat is dry, like I’ve been wandering a desert for hours chasing mirages. I glance back at the water glass and reach for it, noticing how my hands tremble a little as I lift it to my mouth. 

I swallow, gulp, put the glass down with a clink. 

I force myself to look Leo in the eye and respond with the truth. Telling the truth is a virtue, isn’t it?

“Lust,” I say.

Leo’s breath hitches, and they gaze back at me with their beautiful green eyes. I could get lost in them. I am.

My eyes drop to their lips. Oh no. 

I quickly glance back up to Leo’s eyes but it’s too late. 

“You’d like to kiss me, wouldn’t you?” they ask, a smile spreading across their face.

I’m frozen, speechless. Then, slowly, I nod.

“I want to hear you ask for it.”

I inhale, pressing my lips together. I can’t do this. I won’t. What would Emmylyee think? What would all of Faith in Following 🙏✝️ think? What would Jesus think? It’s a sin! I’m not – I’m – I’m out of excuses.

“I want you to kiss me,” I whisper. 

I watch them lean into me slowly and I stare at their mouth. Their lips are soft against mine and the earthy scent of their cologne washes over me. It’s so sexy. Leo’s lips are moving gently against mine and I whimper against their mouth and give in to the sensations, kissing back, grabbing Leo’s short cropped hair and pulling them close to me. They moan and press harder into me, bringing a hand up to cup my jaw – just like I fantasized about – and letting a gentle tongue softly slide against my lips. I melt into the kiss, fire sparking through my body, and I kiss back, letting my mouth open and my tongue meet theirs in an electric brush. 

We pull apart and my stomach drops. Guilt floods my whole body, tensing my calves to my shoulders, and I want to scream. The fury – at least I think it’s fury – burns in my stomach. 

“How could you make me do this?” I sputter.

“I didn’t make you do anything you, Chastity. You asked for this.” Their voice is quiet, matter of fact, almost non-reactive. Their confidence sends shivers up my spine and I want them, carnally, Biblically. I want them to kiss me again. I want them to keep talking to me in that dominant, in-control way. I want them to take control… of me.

I asked for this.

What happens if I ask for more?

“Maybe…I like it when you make me.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

That gets a reaction. 

“Jesus Christ, Chastity.”

“We’re not talking about him right now, Leo,” I say, the corner of my mouth twisting into a wry smile. I’ll repent for that later.

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to make you do filthy, perverted things for me and you’re going to like it.”

I let out a moan, then cover my mouth in embarrassment, cheeks reddening. 

“That’s what I thought,” Leo says with a smirk. They pause, as if they’re actually considering going through with this, then say: “If we’re really going to do this, I need your consent. I need to hear that you want it, and that you’re choosing this.” 

“I want it,” I say, before my brain can stop my mouth from moving. “I choose this.” My face grows redder, so warm that I can feel my pulse in my forehead. “…Please,” I add in a small voice, when Leo says nothing.

“‘Please,’” Leo repeats, sounding satisfied. “Good, Chastity. That’s what I like to hear. Tell me, what do you want me to call you? Good girl, good boy, toy, slut, sinner, fucktoy…?” 

I avoid eye contact with Leo. Feelings roil inside me. Feelings about my gender that I don’t want to face. 

“Don’t…” I start to say don’t call me a boy on instinct, and I reconsider, remembering the Forgive Me Father story and how much it got me going to read about a good boy, a bad boy. “Don’t call me a good girl.” I pause and force myself to draw my gaze back to Leo. “But you can call me everything else.”

Leo stares at me, chest rising and falling, and they clench their jaw and lick their lips. They look me up and down and fist their hands in their lap, as if they’re restraining themself from touching me. 

“Good boy,” they growl. “I like it when boys say please. Good boys are rewarded for good manners. Let’s start with something familiar. Get on your knees.” They point to a spot on the carpet just short of their boots.

This time, I know what I’m feeling definitely isn’t rage. A fire burns just below my stomach and my body stands up from the couch and moves into place before my brain can even process what’s happening. 

“Oh, now that’s a good toy,” Leo praises, and there’s a string in the back of my mind that tugs at a weird thought: I wish they’d called me good boy. 

“Thank you,” I say, thinking of my manners.

“That’s gonna be a ‘Thank you, Sir’ or ‘Thank you, Daddy.’” 

My stomach flips and drops like it’s on a trampoline. 

“What about… both?” I ask timidly.

Leo grits their teeth and growls a response: “Then you’re a filthy sinner who needs to be punished, don’t you?” 

They reach a hand to my jaw, rubbing gently and then gripping to hold me in place. 

“Don’t. You?” Leo repeats sternly. 

“Yes, Daddy,” I say urgently. My whole body flushes with warmth: the heat of lust and sin. This is so wrong. It feels so right. Thoughts swirl in my mind, out of control: Fuck yeah fuck yeah fuck yeah. Oh my God. I’m sinning right now. I need to flee from sin. I can’t stay. I can’t leave. I can’t – I can’t stand how turned on I am. I want more. I want to call this hot butch Daddy while they rail me.

Leo chuckles. 

“Good fuckin’ boy, Chastity,” they say. They sound pleased. I blush with their praise, feeling over the moon with the approval of this butch who likes to boss me around. 

With their free hand, they run a thumb along my lower lip. Instinctively, my mouth drops open and I reach my tongue out to graze the tip of their thumb. 

“Fuck,” I hear them mutter under their breath. They slip their thumb further into my mouth and I suck on it softly, the throbbing between my legs becoming more pronounced. “God dammit, Chastity,” they say in a clear voice. “Look at me,” they order, and I do. I look them straight in the eyes and moan around the thumb in my mouth. 

“Fucking Christ, Chastity. If you’re not careful, I’m going to rip off all your clothes and make you suck my cock ‘til you’re moaning like this.” 

I moan louder, eyes fluttering closed at the thought. I let go of Leo’s thumb and let them smear my spit over my mouth and chin. I feel so dirty already.

“Yes, Sir, please Sir, fuck. Please, Daddy.” 

“Please what, boytoy?”

Boytoy. This is all so new, and I’m so wet.

“Please… Take off all my clothes and make me suck you off.” 

“Mmm,” Leo hums. “That’s what I like to hear. But I want to see you take your own clothes off. Put on a little show for Daddy.”

They lean back, relaxed, palms splayed on their spread thighs, waiting.

I concentrate on keeping steady feet as I stand from the carpet. My legs tremble anyway. Standing, I lick my lips and look down at Leo, who’s looking up at me with a soft smile, head tilted to the side.

I briefly think again about fleeing from sin. This feels like the turning point, my last chance to change my mind before the lust will take over and I’ll be helpless to my basest desires.

A thousand thoughts race through my mind. 

I close my eyes and focus on one:

Unzipping my skirt.

The buzz of the zipper cuts through the silence. My heavy khaki skirt falls to the floor, and I stand in a pair of unsexy brief panties, white with thin blue stripes and a small bow on the front. I feel insecure all of a sudden, but I watch Leo’s eyes trail down my body and their splayed palms turn into fists on their thighs. 

Good boy, Chastity,” they say, swallowing. 

I begin to unbutton my blouse, a frilly white thing that my mom and Emmylyee love. It makes me feel like a bird with a puffed up chest. I open it slowly, revealing my plain nude bra with no padding. I stand in my underwear, feeling exposed and even more insecure, when Leo says: 

“Good God, Chastity.”

But their reverence isn’t for God. It’s for me. 

I blush and turn around shyly, unhooking my bra and pulling it off, hiding my chest and showing off my backside. 

“Chastity…” Leo says, voice sounding strained.

“Yes… Daddy?” I ask, sounding innocent but feeling so, so naughty. 

“God, you fucking tease,” they say. “You have such a good body.”

“Thank you, Sir…”

Their compliments encourage me, and I turn and reveal my bare chest to them, watching the way they lick their lips and stare in awe. 

Their eyes travel to my underwear. Back to my eyes. Waiting patiently. My hands move of their own accord to my hips, playing with the edges of my waistband. I feel so nervous. So wet. So, so eager. I slowly pull the white and blue striped underwear down my thighs, letting them drop at my knees. 

Suddenly I’m naked, and I’m no longer Chastity, the good church girl. Now I’m Chastity, the good boy. The bad boy. The – 

“Filthy, naughty, prettyboy fucktoy…” Leo says to me. “So obedient.”

“Th-thank you, Sir,” I stammer. 

They point to the floor and I fall to my knees, so eager to please. 

“Good boy,” they praise me. “You’ve read enough of my stories now. Do you know what happens next?”

I flush with embarrassment and desire. I do. Oh God, I do. 

“Yes… Daddy.” My eyes travel from the floor to their face. They look pleased and relaxed, so in control. Their hands move to frame the slight bulge in their black jeans and they smirk at me. 

“Then get to it, boytoy. My cock won’t suck itself.” 

My cheeks burn in humiliation. My clit throbs too, but we won’t talk about that. 

I lick my lips, glancing down at Leo’s pants and watching as my hands reach for their black leather belt. I pull at it, unbuckle it, unbutton their jeans, unzip their fly… Every motion is its own step on a staircase down to hell. 

I pull out their cock and it’s a modest sky blue dildo and I feel relieved that it’s not a huge monster.

I swallow, dildo in my hand, and take a deep breath. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I remember back to Friday night’s reading of Forgive Me Father and how Leo described their sinful fantasy… my sinful fantasy… the sinful reality that’s unfolding right in front of me and in between my legs right now. God, focus, Chastity.

I slowly bring my mouth to the tip of the toy, licking and then taking the tip in my mouth, further and further until the entire toy has disappeared into my throat. I feel so strange, so full in a foreign way, and I moan.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Chastity. You fucking slut. Look at you. You look so good with your mouth full of my cock. Keep sucking me off, Chastity. Let’s see your slutty little show.” 

With that as my encouragement, I give it my all. I suck and lick, taking the toy out of my mouth and running my tongue down it sideways and back up, taking it into my mouth again and bobbing my head up and down.

Leo is cursing and calling me filthy names that make me grow wetter. I squeeze my legs together. 

They grip a fist in my hair and guide me up and down their cock. My long hair falls in curtains on their lap. With hard silicone on my tongue, sliding back and forth, I can smell Leo’s body wash: masculine, woodsy, like the cologne they wore on Friday. 

“That’s it, boy. That’s it. Suck my fucking cock, Chastity,” Leo groans. As if they like it. As if this is bringing them pleasure. I’m bringing them pleasure.

I hum, feeling content, like I’m in my place where I belong, and the noise triggers something in Leo, because I feel their fist grip tighter – almost painfully. Almost. They moan and pull me off their cock, looking me in the eyes. Their pupils are blown wide and they’re panting.

“Listen to me,” they say breathlessly. “You filthy, repressed little sinner.” I throb, delirious with lust. My hands are on Leo’s thighs, and my nails dig in when they say this. “I want to –” 

And they proceed to describe the dirtiest, most sinful things they want to do to me, that I could ever imagine. 

“If you want that, go to the bedroom and kneel at the foot of the bed. If you don’t, stand up and put your clothes on. The front door is right there and I won’t stop you.” 

I’m breathless and stiff from the string of filthy words they just said to me. In shock. I look at Leo. I look at my clothes on the floor. I look at the glass of water and suddenly feel how thirsty I am. It’s slippery with condensation and I take a careful sip, holding it at the mouth where the glass isn’t sweating, and setting it back down.

I’m procrastinating, I realize. Leo gave me a choice and I need to make it. I stand.

Chapter 4

Leo, Sunday, 2:37pm

I’m feeling feral with my desire to fuck Chastity into my mattress until she’s a quivering, moaning mess. I want her to beg to cum so I can deny her and watch her face crumple in desperation and need. I want to call her a dirty sinner just to watch her cheeks burn red with humiliation and shame and arousal. 

I want her to worship me as her God. 

But first, she has to choose this. I’m not taking her to my bedroom. She’s walking herself there, naked, or she’s getting dressed and walking out my front door. 

I watch her take a slow, careful sip of water. She glances back at me, and stands. I breathe, and watch her turn around. I can’t help the objectifying gaze that’s got to be written all over my face right now. I’m staring at her ass like one of those panting dog cartoons from the 50s. God help me. She’s got a great body hidden under that cute little church outfit.

I watch her step toward the hallway and I grit my teeth and dig my nails into my thighs, trying to control the urge to race after her. 

She chooses the bedroom. Walks there naked. Kneels on the floor. Waits for me. 

I make her wait. Just like I told her I would. I wanted to give her some quiet time for reflection, and give myself a chance to hit this bong for a second and get my bearings. 

My cock is still out, Chastity’s spit drying on it. I smile wryly, looking down at myself as I spark the bowl and inhale. 

* * *

Chastity, Sunday, 2:37pm

I kneel on the carpeted floor of Leo’s bedroom, naked, with a fire in my belly and a throbbing, sore clit. My choice is made. 

I can hear a click and then the sound of… bubbles? I hear some other miscellaneous noises. The sound of water running from the fridge. Rustling. More bubbles and then some coughing. I guess it must be the bong I saw on the coffee table. I smile to myself a little, at this show of weakness, this crack in their dominant armor.

I’m stuck in my own thoughts here on the floor, and it’s torture. I’m torn between my thirst for all the filthy things Leo promised, and my shame over desiring it. I want to touch myself (I’m so wet) and then I stop myself – not because it’s wrong, but because Leo told me not to. And suddenly, I want to obey their every word. Not God’s word, but this mean lesbian’s. What am I doing? Giving myself and my body over to some seductive, horny butch with a penchant for writing about filthy fantasies?

I am. Oh God, I am.

Leo walks in, smelling like weed and cologne, carrying two glasses of water and bringing them to the nightstand. 

“Good boy, still in position,” they praise. “Sit straighter. Look at me.”

I immediately straighten my posture, raising my head higher and locking gazes with their beautiful bright green eyes with wide pupils. 

“Aww, that’s a good boytoy,” they say, sounding condescending this time. It gets me even more turned on than if they were being nice about it. 

“…Thank you, Sir,” I say. I watch a smirk grow on their face.

They approach me and place a hand under my jaw, holding me firmly and saying, “Do you like calling me that, you desperate little thing?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Mmm,” they hum. “That one too. Is it making you wet?”

I almost whimper. I quietly nod instead.

“Use your words, boy.”

My vocal chords strain with the effort of speaking.

“Yes, Sir, it is.” 

“Hmm…” They seem to consider this for a moment. “I’d love to find out how true that is, but I’m not done torturing you yet. First, I’m going to cuff you, collar you, and leash you, like the good boy you are, Chastity.”

And they do. They take their time, first lighting candles around the room and setting up their Bluetooth speaker with a sexy playlist. A song comes on in the room, one they must have chosen to play first, because the lyrics are on the nose: “Don’t be aroused by my confession / Unless you don’t give a good god damn about redemption / I know Christ is comin’, and so am I / And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye / She’ll suck you dry…”

Leo shuffles around in their closet, pulling out a black duffel bag and pulling out toy after toy, laying them all on the bed. They empty the bag. 

Picking up two pairs of leather cuffs, they come over to me.

“Wrists.”

I hold out my hands in front of me, and they put the cuffs on. They’re soft and fuzzy on the inside, and they feel… almost comforting? Like they belong on my wrists and I belong in this moment and I’m safe and secure in these cuffs. 

Leo has me sit on the bed for my ankle cuffs, and they kneel before me to attach them. They look so chivalrous like this, taking good care of me. I feel so wildly slutty with these ankle and wrist cuffs on me, and we’re not even done yet. They tell me to kneel again, and I do.

They retrieve a black leather collar with a silver metal circle attached to the front of it.

“Now, normally earning a collar takes a lot more than you or I have done in a Dominant/submissive relationship. But I see the significance of your submission to me right now, and I feel like you’ve earned this moment of collaring by taking this leap of faith with me. Don’t you?” 

The word faith burns into my heart like a brand. I can’t breathe. I’m distracted by my all-consuming guilt, shrinking into it.

“Well, Chastity? Do you feel like you’ve earned this honor?” Leo repeats. I shake myself out of it.

“Y-yes, Daddy,” I say quickly. 

“Good.”

They tilt my chin up with their finger, and attach the black leather to my neck, matching the rest of my new outfit. 

“Now you’re mine,” Leo growls, tugging on the metal ring and bringing their mouth so close to mine… so close… but not kissing me. “And I’m going to ruin you.” I can feel their hot breath on my lips and it makes my body weak.

They’re holding a leash in their hand, a long chain with a leather handle on it. I watch their hands as they attach it to my collar. They tug gently, pulling me forward to them. 

“Now this…” Leo says, grinning like they can’t keep the smile off their face, “is exactly where I want you.” 

They’re so close to my face, and they’re so sexy. They smell like mint, like they just brushed their teeth, almost like they did it with the intention of kissing me… 

“Please kiss me,” I blurt, before I can find the shame or cowardice to stop myself. 

Leo chuckles. “No,” they say, almost as a quip. “Don’t get me wrong, prettyboy. I love that you asked. You even said please. But I want to deny you, because it’s fun to watch you get desperate.” 

I squirm from my kneeling position, squeezing my legs together, feeling the wetness between them. 

“Now, I’m gonna take you for a little walk,” they say, tugging on my leash to prompt me to stand. I do. “Good boy,” they praise. They walk me over to the side of the bed where they’ve arranged all their sex toys in a neat row. I feel my eyes widen when I see the collection. At least a dozen dildos and vibrators, paddles, something with a handle and tails of leather, a loop of rope, a blindfold, gags, a feather toy, a candle shaped like a mini-teapot, as if it’s meant to pour out wax. 

Like they promised me, they show me every item and explain to me its purpose. Then they ask me if I want to try it, and I say yes, no, and maybe. 

My maybes include the feather, the paddle, the “flogger,” and a small gag shaped like a red heart.

My yeses include the many vibrators, a purple dildo that Leo isn’t currently wearing, and the blindfold.

“Oh boytoy… Daddy is going to have so much fun with you,” Leo says. 

Hearing Leo call themself Daddy in a deep, pleased voice is enough to make me wish I had something to fan myself with. 

“Tell me more about your ‘maybe’ for the feather toy,” Leo instructs. “Why might it be a no, and why might it be a yes?”

“It might be a no because… I’m really ticklish,” I say shyly. 

“And why might it be a yes?”

“Because… I’m… curious?” I answer nervously. “I don’t know, I’ve never imagined tickling and… sex.” I force myself to say the word. “I don’t get it, but it seems harmless. So, maybe?” 

They tighten up the leash on my collar and pull me into them.

“Then that sounds to me like a reason to try something new, don’t you think?” 

My throat gets dry and I swallow. I glance at Leo’s lips and long for them to kiss me already. “Yes,” I say, distracted. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir,” I quickly correct myself. 

So that’s how I end up tied to the bed, cuffed and collared, arms and legs spread, blindfolded, with a feather tickling up and down my bare body. 

The tickling lights my whole body up with energy, and I squirm and wiggle trying to get away. It makes my muscles tense up and relax, and just when I think the worst is over, Leo puts aside the feather toy and tickles me with their fingers, going for my ribs, my waist. 

I squeal, twisting my body as much as I’m able to in my restraints. I try to kick my legs and can’t. They finally relent and stop tickling me, and pull off my blindfold to ask me, “How was it?” 

I pause, considering. My blood is pounding, especially in a certain place…

“I liked it more than I thought,” I admit. I try to squeeze my legs together and fail. Leo chuckles. 

“What’s a matter, boytoy? Are you wet? From tickling? What kind of a filthy pervert are you?” 

I blush hot and whine, pulling on my restraints. 

“Say it,” Leo instructs. 

“Say what?” I ask, confused.

“Say, ’I’m a filthy pervert, Daddy.’” 

I flush hotter and squirm, avoiding eye contact.

“Look me in the eyes and say it,” they command. 

I give in. It’s so, so easy to give in. So easy to say the dirty words they feed to me. 

“I’m a filthy pervert, Daddy,” I agree. “I’m wet.”

“Hmmm. Are you?”

“Yeah, Daddy. I am. Do you… do you want to feel how wet?” My question comes out as a whimper.

“Prettyboy… You sound so fucking needy already.” Leo strokes their thumbs on my soft inner thighs. “Isn’t that right, boy? You’re a desperate, filthy sinner, aren’t you? You’re so helpless to it you can’t even think of anything else, isn’t that right?” 

“Oh! Daddy! Yes, yes, I am, please, just touch me, kiss me, anything. I need you to touch me.” 

“Very nice, slutty boy. I like that. Keep going. Tell me, ‘I’m a dirty sinner and I need to be fucked by a hot butch dyke.’”

I can literally feel the wetness leaking out of me. My clit is so hard it’s unbearable. My nipples are erect, and the flush covering my body concentrates in my cheeks and ears. 

I’ll pray about this later. Jesus is in the business of forgiveness… right?

“I– I’m a dirty sinner and I need to be… fucked by a hot butch… dyke,” I manage to say, slowing at the words that are an unfamiliar shape on my tongue, feeling the fire lick down my belly into my core as I say the words.

“Good fucking boy.”

Leo rewards me with their finger spreading around my wetness, stroking up my throbbing clit and making me yelp and jerk. That. That. Oh God. That’s what I want. That’s what this has all been for. That feeling. I have never felt this level of passion or desire or lust or pleasure… 

“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you. Fuck – oh fuck –” 

“Mmm, so vulgar…” Leo chides, flicking my clit softly. 

They do this for seconds or minutes or hours, I don’t know. Taking the wetness leaking out of me and sliding it over my stiff clit, watching in delight as I react to every movement with desperate moans, gasps, and twitches.

“What do you want next, boytoy?” Leo asks lazily, circling my clit with their finger. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Ohhhh,” I moan. “Fuck. I want… I want you to… put your finger in me.” 

“Oh, you want me to fingerfuck this pretty little pussy, huh boy?” they ask. “Say it. Ask me to fuck your pussy.”

They’re so crass. But fuck, it’s hot. I feel myself clench around nothing. 

“Please Daddy… Please fuck my pussy.” 

“God, you’re so obedient. Such a good boy. Such a pliant little slut…” 

They slip a finger in me and I tense and moan and pull on my wrist and ankle restraints. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, thank you… Fuck…” 

“Such a sinful little boytoy,” Leo says with reverence, like a compliment. “So fucking good. God, I can feel you clenching on me, fucking slut.” That makes me clench again. Leo laughs at me, and it reignites that fire inside me. “Jesus, look at you.” 

I whine.

They go on: “Fucking filthy little boytoy, dressed up in my leather cuffs, my collar, owned by me on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, the day of your Lord, right after church… Tell me, prettyboy, were you thinking about this during church service today? Thinking about me fucking you?”

I whimper and nod, all pretense gone, just need and lust left. “Yeah…” 

“Mmm… boytoy… so naughty. ‘Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do.’” 

John 8:44. The rest of the verse is about Satan being a liar and murderer. But it doesn’t matter. Leo reciting a verse to me about lust in a low voice in my ear while they finger me is enough to make me more wet. It reminds me of the verse about kisses they recited to me in the diner… I want Leo to kiss me so badly. 

Leo’s finger hasn’t stopped, and I’m moaning as they curl their finger in the right spot. 

“Daddy, please…” 

“Please what?” they reply.

“Please, Daddy, please kiss me?” 

“Mmm,” they consider. “You did ask so nicely…”

They adjust on the bed and lean down to meet their mouth with mine… Almost. Then they pull away and smile at me, at my disappointment and confusion and desperation. 

Please!” I beg. Their finger curls inside me and I cry out. 

Their mouth swallows my cry and they slide their lips against mine, teasing me with their tongue, and I’m moaning desperately into their mouth like a bitch in heat, like a nymphomaniac, like a dirty sinner. 

Suddenly I feel so greedy, like I need – “More. More. More. Please.”

“Aw, boytoy, what do you need? Another finger? Harder?”

“Both. Both, please.” I arch my back, trying to reach them for more touch. 

“Poor thing,” they say. “Your poor mind must be a swirling vortex of neverending filth. Is this all you can think about? Getting fucked by a butch Daddy?” 

It’s humiliating to have my words thrown back at me like this, but at this moment, all it does is make me wetter. I moan “Yes! Yesss…” 

They must be feeling generous, because they pull out of me, kiss me hard, and slip two fingers back inside me as I scream into their mouth.

Leo pulls away from the kiss, panting, but still reciting quotes from my first message to them: “Rise above your basest instincts, Chastity. You were made for more than this.” 

They punctuate the end of their quote with a curl of their fingers to make me moan again.

“Were you, though?” Leo ponders. “Were you made for more than this, or were you made for exactly this? For being used and abused for a mean dyke’s amusement? I think you’re the perfect little prettyboy fucktoy for me, what about you?”

“Mmm,” I respond, dizzy with lust and the sensation of Leo’s fingers deep inside me.

“Answer me, you fucking slut,” Leo demands. My whole body tenses from their commanding tone. 

“Y-Yes, Daddy, I am. I’m the perfect fucktoy.” 

“Yeah, you are, baby. God, you’re so fucking wet. Are you ready for another finger, boy?”

“Yes, Daddy! Please! Fuck, I want you to fuck me so hard.”

And they give it to me. Everything I ask for, they give me. Sins delivered on a silver platter. 

When they’re done, or bored, or whatever, they stuff their wet fingers in my mouth. It’s my first time tasting myself, or anyone for that matter – I’m shocked by the taste and so degraded by the action that I throb and moan.

Leo unties my wrists and ankles and I shake some flexibility back into my shoulders and knees. 

“I wanna fuck you now, Chastity,” Leo growls. Like they haven’t been doing that already. I almost laugh, but think better of it.

“Yes, Daddy, please, Sir,” I beg, eyeing their blue cock that’s been sitting between their legs this whole time. 

They reach for the vibrators on the side of the bed and hand four of them to me. 

“Boyslut’s choice,” they say. “Whichever ones you want. You’re just not allowed to cum.”

I throb and clench at the command, the implicit threat. 

“Yes, Daddy.”

Leo lubes up their cock, using more lube than I ever would’ve expected necessary, but what do I know. They wipe off their hand on a towel and crawl on the bed to me, hovering over me and looking me up and down with a hungry gaze. They lick their lips and lean down to kiss me with tongue. Then they murmur in my ear:

“Beg for me to fuck you.” 

An all-consuming fire takes over my body. 

“D-Daddy…” I barely make out. 

“Oh, Chastity, you can do better than that. Better hurry before the lube dries up.”

“Daddy, please fuck me with your cock. Oh my God, please fuck me. I’ve never needed something so badly in my life. I want to cum on your cock, Daddy.” 

‘Please fuck my slutty pussy, Daddy.’” 

I flush with embarrassment.

“Yes, Daddy… Please fuck my slutty pussy, Daddy.” 

They position themself at my entrance and then warn me, “Don’t you dare stop fucking begging for it.” 

I do – I continue begging for cock, for a good fucking, for anything they’ll give me.

They slide inside me easily and fill me up, and I scream for them. I wonder briefly about their neighbors, but decide that they probably deal with this a lot and it’s their problem, not mine. My throat is raw and my body aches from being so thoroughly used, and still I want more. My body shakes beneath them, sweat beading on my upper lip as my words turn to babble. Their pace is relentless between my legs as I become the basest version of myself, nothing but a swirling vortex of sins and sensations.

My body gives in to the pleasure and my legs start to shake.

“Pl– Please…” I start to whimper. 

“Mmm, please what, boytoy?” Leo grunts between thrusts, not letting up. 

“Pl– Please, I’m so close…” I whine. One hand holds the vibrator and my other grips the sheets. My toes are curling, my back is arching and I don’t want to find out what happens if Leo calls me a bad boy. I want to cum and I don’t want to let Leo down. Desperation overwhelms my body as I let out a groan, a guttural sound that comes from some place deep within my body.

“Oh, prettyboy…” Leo starts. “What part of ‘don’t cum’ don’t you understand, boytoy? I’m not done with you yet. Turn the vibe off.”

I have the decency to be a little ashamed of how pitiful my whine is when I pull off the toy and turn it off. It’s a relief and a curse as my body shakes, desperate to cum but terrified to be a bad boy for Daddy. 

What am I saying? The shame floods my body, but the aching between my legs is stronger.

“Now that’s a good boy,” Leo compliments my obedience. I glow with their praise. I’m a good boy. “That’s a sinful little slut.”

I moan and throb at the degradation. 

“Well? Say it, boytoy. Tell me what a dirty little sinner you are. Confess your sins to me.” 

I gulp involuntarily. Leo has slowed their thrusts, but not stopped fucking me. It’s distracting and hard to focus. I look down at their blue cock entering me and I close my eyes and moan. 

“Yeah, you like that, dirty boy? Tell me about it. You can put another one of these vibes back on your clit when you admit to me that you’re a filthy sinner.” 

“Oh God,” I moan, taking the Lord’s name in vain again. “I am, Daddy. I am. I’m a dirty, filthy sinner and all I want is to cum on your cock.” 

Leo laughs at me. 

“That’s a good toy. Now put a vibe back on your clit and confess all your sins to me. When’s the last time you touched yourself, hmm?”

I feel heat rush to my face. “I – um, I –” I fumble with a vibrator. 

“Oh, boytoy, are you embarrassed? That’s okay, baby, tell me the truth. When did you fuck yourself, prettyboy?” 

I get the vibe turned on and answer them: “Friday night, Daddy…” and I gasp when the toy touches my clit with a rumbly, deep vibration.

“After we met? Fuck,” Leo curses, hips thrusting into me harder, as if they can’t hold back. “You filthy fucking toy. Tell me everything. How did you fuck yourself?” 

“Oh! Daddy…” I moan at the pleasure. I’m on the pathway to an orgasm again, and I need to take it slow. “Daddy, Daddy…”

“Focus, boytoy,” Leo snaps. “Take the vibe off your clit until you can answer me in a full sentence.” 

I obey with a regretful groan. “Yes, Daddy… Sorry, Daddy… I – I – I went home from the diner and read all of the Song of Solomon. And then I read Forgive Me Father, and I was so – so turned on, I… pulled out my only vibrator and fucked myself with it.”

“Fuck,” Leo moans. “How? Tell me more. Put the vibe back on your clit.” 

“Yes, Daddy! Thank you, Daddy!” I bring the toy and press it gently against myself, keeping a soft pressure. “I – at first I rubbed my clit with the toy through my underwear, and then I took off all my clothes and teased my clit more… Until I was close… Oh, Daddy, that feels so good… And then I used the rabbit to fuck myself… And I imagined you were there, telling me what to do…”

Leo growls at this, fucking into me hard and ravenously. “Chastity, you filthy little whore. God dammit. You fucked yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes, Daddy! Yes, Daddy… I did…” I trail off into moans and curse words, my body flooded with shame and pleasure.

“Couldn’t resist temptation, huh?” Leo laughs. “Couldn’t ‘rise above your basest instincts’?” 

“No, Daddy, I couldn’t…” I moan. 

“Why – not – ?” they ask between thrusts. 

“Because I’m a greedy, filthy slut, Daddy. Because I’m a sinner. Because I just – wanna get – used…”

“Yeah you do, you filthy fucking sinner. You delicious little slut. Don’t you dare cum. God, your pussy feels so good on my cock. Fuck. Chastity. You feel so good. Fuck! Ugh…” 

Leo is moaning and grunting with the effort of fucking me, and I never in my life thought that I could feel this turned on, this hot, this close to cumming – right on the edge – so close but so far because I don’t have permission

“Please, Daddy! Please, Sir… Please!”

“Please what, you fucking slut?”

PleaseDaddypleasecanIcum,” I beg in a deep, desperate voice. 

“No,” Leo growls, and I don’t even wait for them to tell me to take the vibrator off my clit, I just turn it off anyway, because I’m so fucking close and I wasn’t going to last a second longer. I lay, panting, as Leo slows their strokes of their cock and concentrates on talking dirty to me: “Good fucking boy, Chastity. That’s it. I’m keeping you right here on the very edge for as long as you can stand it, because you’re a dirty, filthy sinner. Because you never indulge in your sins, never, do you? But here you are at my doorstep begging for my cock. Because you deserve it, Chastity. You deserve a good, hard fucking and the best orgasm of your life. Because you’re a good boy. A dirty little sinner, but so, so good. So that’s why I’m going to torture you, Chastity. Until you can’t take it anymore.” 

I cry out in a moan, grasping at Leo’s back with my nails. I can still feel the echo of the buzzing of the vibrator in my throbbing clit as my cunt aches for more. I’m so, so wet, and Leo’s cock thrusts in and out of me easily. I almost… No. I flush with shame and desire. I almost want a bigger one… Oh my God. 

“Jesus, boytoy, your cunt is taking me so well…” Leo praises. 

“Yeah,” I whine. “Yeah…” 

“What do you want, slut?” they ask. 

“Um – I –” I gasp. “I want – do you have – um…” I stammer, and Leo’s thrusts slow to a stall. 

“Do I have what, prettyboy?” they ask. 

I bring my hands to my face and cover my eyes as I blurt, “Do you have a bigger cock, Daddy?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leo swears again. They reach for my hands and pull them off of my face. “Say that again and look me in the eyes. Fucking beg for it, boytoy.” 

“Oh my God…” I moan, lost to my sins. I lock eyes with Leo. “Please, Sir. Daddy. Please, fuck me. Please fuck me with a bigger dick, Daddy.”

“Hmm,” Leo pretends to consider. “Why should I?”

“Because I’m a filthy little slut and I’ve been such a good boy for you and I need it so badly, Sir,” I rush to answer. “Please, Sir, please…” 

They chuckle. “Well, if you need it that badly, slut.” They pull out of me and tell me: “Don’t touch yourself.” Then they pull the wet teal cock out of their harness and reach to the side of the bed for a bigger one, this time black and smooth, but a little thicker and at least two inches longer.

I watch them lube up and wipe their hand on a towel while I throb and ache and reconsider my entire life. 

“Beg for my big butch cock, boytoy,” Leo demands. 

I obey.

God, I obey.

I moan for their cock until they give it to me, sinking in inch by inch. They grab my cuffed wrists and press them together above my head. The restraint ignites my body and I arch into Leo, only to have them pull away from my attempt at a kiss. I whine. I want them so badly. Oh, this cock is definitely bigger… Ohhh…

“Oh, Daddy… Your cock is so big…” I moan. 

Leo laughs. “I’m flattered, boytoy. Now take it.” 

Their thrusts grow faster and harder, and their forehead beads with sweat at the effort of fucking me. Leo’s grunts in my ear drive me wild and I meet their thrusts with my hips, desperate to chase this pleasure I’ve never known. I don’t know how long Leo fucks me like this – until it stops.

“Fuck,” Leo pants, pausing. “You’ve worn me out, boytoy. I need a break.” 

I try not to whine from the inadvertent denial. Leo pulls out of me and collapses next to me on the bed, still breathing hard. 

“Doesn’t mean… you have to stop… prettyboy…” they pant. “You can ride me.” 

Somehow the prospect of riding them feels dirtier and more sinful than anything that’s happened yet. Receiving passively is one thing. But taking my pleasure for myself… that’s something else. That’s another level of depravity.

I take one more step deeper into hell. 

Positioning myself on their wet cock, I sink down and moan. Leo’s hands are quickly on my hips, gripping me and guiding me up and down. I follow their lead, raising my hips and sinking back down, slowly at first, then faster… and faster… until I’m moaning and whimpering like the filthy slut that Leo says I am. 

“That’s it, boytoy. Ride me like that. Your slutty butch pussy looks so good taking my cock like this. Look at you. In your cuffs and collar, all fucked out and whimpering for more?”

My response is nothing but those same whimpers and the eager, greedy movement of my hips. 

“Cute whines, prettyboy. Almost sounds like you want to cum.”

My whines grow louder in affirmation. 

“Well? Do you?”

“Yes, Daddy, please, Sir, please… I want to cum. Please can I cum? I’ll do anything you want. Please,” I beg. I slam my hips down harder onto Leo’s, chasing the pleasure with abandon, moaning as each stroke hits inside of me. 

“Yeah, boytoy, you can cum on my cock,” Leo says. “Keep making those slutty noises, boy. I want to hear you cum.” Leo fumbles for one of the vibrators on the edge of the bed and turns it on, handing it to me.

“Thank you, Daddy!” I moan as the vibrations reach my clit. I twitch and clench on Leo’s big cock, and I feel my orgasm approaching already. 

“Yeah… Fucking slut. Dirty… fucking… sinner…” Leo groans with every stroke.

My cheeks flush. A slut. A sinner. These words ignite my core as I begin to shake. Electricity pulses, grows, and sparks in my clit, in my cunt. The sensations build until I feel myself reaching a tipping point. My whole body tenses and the only words I can manage are “oh God, oh God, oh God!” over and over and over as I cum, hard, on Leo’s cock. It’s the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had, lasting longer than ever before. Every time I think I’m done cumming, I feel another wave of pleasure and whimpers and gasps escape my mouth. 

“That’s fucking right, boytoy. Take it. Enjoy it. Doesn’t it feel so good?”

“Oh my God…” I moan. Leo laughs.

Add taking the Lord’s name in vain to the mile-long list of sins I’ll need to repent for.

The vibe buzzes away on my clit, which feels like it’s finally done pulsing in pleasure. I pull the toy away and my body collapses into Leo, their skin sticky with sweat against mine. For a moment, neither of us breathe, the sudden intimacy foreign even after the depravity of the last several hours. They inhale, then soften, wrapping their arms around me. The silence is thick between us, punctuated only by our steadying breath. 

It’s strange, to have your beliefs stripped bare like your clothes from your body. To, for the first time, see a path other than daughter on her way to wife and mother. A detour that brings me to my knees not to pray, but to worship

If this path leads to hell, at least it’s hot down there.

My stomach drops as the shame returns. I need to get out of here. I squirm off of Leo’s chest and search for my clothing, suddenly hyper-aware of my naked body. I remember that I left my clothes in the living room, from my little show. My cheeks burn as I freeze awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. Cotillion didn’t exactly cover the etiquette for how to extricate oneself from a gay hookup that may very well make my Bible combust the next time I pick it up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Leo says, commanding, but with an edge of softness. As if maybe, just maybe, they enjoyed that too.

“I just need to…um…my clothes…I should go…” I fumble with the buckle on the cuff around my right wrist. My hands don’t seem to work and my legs are shaking and my vision is starting to go black at the edges when –

Leo’s arm snakes around my waist, holding me steady, their other hand freeing one wrist, then the other. They drop to one knee to remove my ankle cuffs. My collar – I mean their collar – falls away last. 

They help me to the bedroom door gently. The living room air is much cooler – that must be why my nipples harden. I spot my clothes in a heap, steadying myself against the wall as I get dressed again. 

At least my Bible doesn’t burst into flames when I reach for it. Crossing toward the door, I keep my eyes down, dreading meeting their gaze.

“I…I am definitely going to have to pray about this,” I whisper, barely meeting their eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure,” they say, looking smug. “And when you’re ready to end up on your knees again, you know where to find me.”

I swear they wink as the door closes behind me.

* * *

Leo, Tuesday, 11:43am

I’m tapping my way through my Instagram notifications when I notice I gained a new follower whose name is oddly familiar. SC52794private. I smirk.

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