Chastity invites Leo to church. Leo shows up. Cowritten with AO3 user greyleft.

CWs: Daddy kink, fingering, semi-public sex in a church bathroom, almost getting caught, blasphemy

Chastity: Chapter 2

Chastity, Saturday, 9:12pm

A new email pings in my inbox.

[AO3] Butch4ButchBoytoy posted Forgive Me Father, Chapter 2

Oh. Oh, no. Not a sequel to this story, of all stories.

Since that day at Leo’s apartment, I’ve strengthened my resolve. No more late nights with my hand under the covers, images of Leo’s hands on my skin behind my eyelids. I’ve even started reading my Bible app until I fall asleep to avoid late-night temptation.

I hover my finger over the “unsubscribe” button on AO3, almost clicking it. Almost.

Without meaning to, my eyes start scanning the tags of the post, some expected – “Blasphemy,” “Lesbian Sex,” “Butch/butch,” “Daddy kink,” “Strap-ons” – some unexpected: “Getting caught,” “Mean angry nun,” “Questionable use of sacristy,” “Chastity.”

What?

I’m not reading it. I’m really not going to read it. I throw my phone onto the carpet and bury my face into my pillow, groaning in frustration. 

Saturday, 11:07pm

It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted. I swipe to the next page of my Bible app, but the words blur together and my mind is racing even as my eyelids droop. 

I can’t stop wondering if it’s a coincidence that my name is a kink in the tags list of Leo’s newest story. My whole body flushes with heat. Rage, I tell myself. I take a breath to steady my nerves. There’s no way this is about me. Chastity is a common concept. It just happens to be my name.

And yet, I have to know.

It’s late and I don’t fully process what I’m doing as I swipe back to my email and click the link, the scarlet letters of the logo appropriately reflecting the journey of my moral demise.

Author’s note: Dedicated to the filthy sinners whose poor minds swirl with never-ending filth. You were made for exactly this. 

They’re baiting me.

But it works.

My eyes continue to scan the page, and the story unfolds in front of me. The characters from the first story have returned to the church, unable to resist the opportunity to return to the scene of their sins for another roleplay session. My hand drifts below the waistband of my pajamas, and before I’m conscious of what’s happening, I join them in their depravity.

In the midst of their eager, desperate copulation, a throat clears from the back of the room. A nun stands in her habit with a scowl, and the characters stare back like deer in headlights. The story transitions to an elaborate punishment scene featuring Bible verses spat in anger, chain bondage, whipping, and a very bossy nun ordering the Dom exactly how to fuck the sub while she watches.

The sub cums when the nun orders them to, just as my back arches and my throat tightens in a gasp. A wave of pleasure washes over me, at least until the shame sets in. It’s particularly bitter this time, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m swiping over to my IG messages.

SCPrivate52794: How dare you bait me into your filth, and use my faith for your depraved, disgusting fantasies. 

They reply right away.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: And yet you still read it. Didn’t take long for you to finish. 

SCPrivate52794: I’m going to church tomorrow to pray for your soul. I suggest you join me.

[dropped pin: A New Lyfe: Vysyon Mynystryes Church]

The message is read at 12:13am and Leo leaves no reply. Shoot. 

I have to go to bed, but my sleep is restless and I toss and turn. I barely wake in time to rush to church in my blouse and khaki pants, hair wet from my shower, face bare.

Sunday, 9:15am

Emmylyee, Chrystyna, Elyzybyth, and Sarah stand around the refreshments table whispering to each other. I know immediately that something isn’t right with their low tones and glances over their shoulders. 

“Emmylyee,” I hiss over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

“Come, come,” Elyzybyth whispers, motioning for me to join the tight circle and lower my voice. “It’s the Pastor. He… he has strayed.”

I must look confused, because Chrystyna clarifies: “Pastor Keyth has succumbed to his addiction to… graphic materials.” 

A blush rushes to my face as I remember my own foray into illicit materials last night, and my mouth drops open. “Wh-what does – Where’s Deborah?” I whisper, glancing around the social hall. Deborah stands next to Keyyth, lips pursed into a tight smile. She looks at me and her smile falters almost imperceptibly, and I jump and turn around before she sees the guilt on my face from gossiping.

“Oh my goodness…” I say, grasping for something appropriate and faithful to say. My cheeks are suddenly hot, Keyyyth’s deviance a parallel to my own. I think about how Leo hasn’t texted me back, and itch to glance at my phone. “Well, as it says in Ephesians, we are to forgive others as we have been forgiven…”

Emmylyee, Chrystyna, Elyzybyth, and Sarah nod sagely. Deborah comes over to pour herself a cup of cheap, bitter church coffee. We split up our group and pretend like we weren’t just gossiping about her husband’s… proclivities. Deborah busies herself adding two creams and two sugars and stirring with the same pursed smile on her thin lips.

“Ladies,” she greets us, with a knowing tone. We each respond awkwardly and guiltily, “Hi,” “Hello,” “Hi Deborah,” a wave, a glance at our feet.

“Service is starting soon,” she says with a shallow smile and a flick of the little plastic stir stick in her coffee cup. We follow behind her into the pews and I sneak a peek at my phone, spotting an Instagram notification. My heart thuds in my chest and my palms sweat. I angle the screen away from my Sisters in Christ and barely glance at the messages with Leo before swiping to reply.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: Thanks for the invite, Chastity.

SCPrivate52794: Our pastor was caught looking at porn and if the fallout is this bad for just wandering eyes, I can’t imagine what level of hell awaits the writers of it… 

The message is instantly marked ‘seen’. 

Butch4ButchBoytoy: Oh? Tell me more. Turn around. 

My stomach drops. My head whips around behind me. There they are, looking so… gay. So gay in church, no less. They’re wearing a black button-up with red roses, rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the collar. Black pants. The same shiny leather boots they wore at the diner. They’re so – They’re so. Hot. 

They wink at me and duck into the family single-stall restroom.

I panic and snap my head back. The word whiplash comes to mind but I don’t have time to think about it. I jump up from my seat and blurt “BATHROOM” loudly to my Sisters, almost rushing away before pausing to clarify: “I’m not feeling well. I need the bathroom. So sorry.” 

I hurry away with a furious blush reddening my face, almost dropping my phone with shaking hands. 

I round the corner into the single-stall restroom where Leo is leaned up against the counter, arms crossed. Of course they are. They eye my panting, reddened face with a quirk of their brow.

“Well?” they say, arrogant and smirking. “You were telling me about how I’m going to hell. I guess I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” 

“I – I – what?” I stammer. “What are you doing here?”

Their smirk broadens into a grin. They lick their lips and look me up and down. I opted for pants and a modest women’s button-up today. It’s not forbidden in our church for women to wear pants, but it’s uncommon. Very uncommon. But getting ready this morning, I couldn’t face the skirt. It just doesn’t feel… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel… something… anymore. No one said anything, and I’m still dressed appropriately for church.

But suddenly, Leo’s gaze on me in this outfit feels entirely inappropriate. Inappropriate in a way that has my body hot.

I gulp.

Leo eyes me quizzically. “You invited me… So, are we going to go hear the gospel or whatev–”

I have the sudden urge to grab their hand, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve grabbed it. Something fills my chest – not panic, but something new. Different.

“Well, let’s…” they pull my hand toward the door, but I don’t move. Won’t move? Something feels more solid here, in this bathroom with the din of the worship music in the background. 

They pause and look at me, tilting their head like a curious dog. “What?”

I’m staring at them. Their shirt unbuttoned just so, their chest flat and androgynous, their pink mouth spreading into a smile as my eyes travel up to meet theirs.

“You look good,” I say with a boldness from somewhere new and unfamiliar. I realize that I’m staring at their mouth again.

“I thought admitting that was a sin,” they say coolly, and my stomach twists in knots.

“Not as much as this is.” I push them against the counter and press my mouth to theirs.

I feel their groan against my mouth as much as I hear it. It’s euphoric, like gospel music to my ears. Leo’s hands slide up to my hair to grip at the base of my skull and my hand lets go of theirs to pull their body into mine. They respond, tongue slowly grazing my lips as they grip my hip with their free hand and squeeze the sensitive spot there. 

I whimper helplessly into their mouth. Our kiss grows hotter as Leo’s hand wanders to my ass, up my back, and around to my… my what? My breasts? Tits? Chest? Whatever. They’re feeling me up through my church blouse and it feels. Good. And I’m so wet.

Leo’s grip on my hair is firm but gentle as they pull us away from the kiss. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Chastity. Jesus Christ.”

I’m too dizzy with need, lust, sin to chastise them for taking the Lord’s name in vain.

“Leo –” I start to say.

They cut me off. “Call me Daddy.” 

I steady my breath. “I want you… Daddy.”

“My, my, my, Chastity… Now, what kind of filthy, lust-addicted sinner would say that in a church?”

I can’t think of a response more than, “oh”.

“God,” Leo laughs. “Are you so fucking needy already that you can’t even talk?” 

My need overtakes me and I feel Leo’s thigh between my legs and I can’t help the way I moan and rub myself against them. “Please, Daddy.”

“Mmm,” Leo hums. “That’s a good boy.”

They grab my hips and press their thigh firmly between my legs, grinding me harder against them. I shudder in surprise and pleasure. I melt into their shoulder and moan against their neck.

“Please,” I whimper quietly against their skin. “Please. Please.” 

Flames lick up my body as my stiff clit rubs against the soft cotton of my underwear, the rough fabric of our pants. 

“Oh, boytoy… You sound so pretty whining like that for me.” 

“Please,” is the only word I can find. The pressure of their thigh feels so good, but I’m craving more.

“Please what,” they command, holding my hips still. I groan against their skin beneath the collar of their button-up, hoping my unintelligible mumbling gets me what I want.

“What was that, boy?” they ask with a harder edge to their voice. They pull me back to look them in the eyes.

Heat rushes through me at being called boy. They’re making me say it. I like when I have to say it. It makes me feel so vulnerable, so… so naked with need and want. 

“Please… fuck me… Daddy.” 

I watch Leo’s green eyes darken as they lick their lips and grin at me with evil, sinful desire. 

“Good fucking boy, Chastity,” they praise. “Daddy will fuck you so good. You just have to beg for it right.” Their hands are infuriatingly slow as they trace over my hip bones to meet at the button of my khakis, tugging them free and removing my cotton underwear with them.

Their hands brace my hips, turning my body to face the porcelain sink behind us. Their hand on my back is somehow both firm and gentle as they lean me over the sink. The porcelain is cool against my bare hips and I feel goosebumps pass over my skin.

“That’s right, boy,” they say in a low growl. “You’re gonna fucking take it from Daddy in this church bathroom like a filthy, dirty sinner. Aren’t you?” 

I look back up at them in the mirror with big, helpless eyes. 

“Well?” they prompt.

Their hands reach between my legs, teasing my soft sensitive thighs. I feel my wetness grow in anticipation, my clit so hard it’s almost painful in an exquisite way. 

Our eyes still locked on each other’s, I spill out my plea: “Daddy, please fuck me in church like a filthy, dirty sinner. All I want is you.” 

“Oh, prettyboy… You’re being such a good boy for me. That deserves a… reward…” 

On the word ‘reward’, Leo dips a finger into my arousal and traces their wet finger around my clit, so sensitive that I twitch and gasp. 

“Oh my God…”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain?” they say, smirking in the mirror at me. I flush, feeling guilty and turned on in equal parts. “That desperate for it, huh? I can feel how wet you are.” 

I can only moan in response. I buck my hips back toward their hand, searching for more of the sensation I crave.

They stop, placing a firm hand against the small of my back.

“Be a good boy and stay still for me. You get what I give you.” 

I whimper, willing myself still against the cold porcelain. Their fingers circle my opening, slowly, deliberately. My mouth is open in a silent “oh,” watching Leo’s face in the mirror, waiting and hoping for them to give me what I want.

“Please, Daddy…” I whine.

I gasp as they dip a finger inside me, immediately withdrawing it. I catch their smirk in the mirror as I groan.

“Please what?” 

“God, please do that again. Please.”

“My name’s not God,” Leo taunts, a smile dancing on their lips.

 I’m definitely going to hell for this.

“Daddy! Please!” I can think of nothing but the ache between my legs, how good their finger felt for that fleeting moment.

“Mmm… Maybe. Stand up. Turn around,” they order. I do, my arms shaky as I lift myself up. I turn, face to face with the object of my desire for these torturous past few weeks.

“Tell me what you want, boytoy,” they growl in my ear. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh,” I say, face flushing scarlet as I struggle with my words. “I want you to fuck me like a good boy. I want your fingers inside me. I want you to touch my clit until I–oh–”

My mind goes blank when they slip two fingers inside me, my body succumbing to the touch so easily, my sins on full display for Leo and God himself. I can feel my own wetness as it drips between my thighs, evidence of my debauchery. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, Chastity. Jesus Christ.”

The Lord’s name makes me blush and I bury my face into their shoulder. They withdraw their fingers and I look up, pleading.

“Look me in the eye while I fuck you, boy,” they command. “You want this. Don’t act all shy all of a sudden.”

I bite my lip, raising my chin to meet their gaze. 

“That’s a good slut, Chastity.” 

Leo brings their thumb to my mouth, and without thinking, my mouth opens automatically for them. A whimper escapes me as I suck. 

“That’s right, prettyboy…” Leo’s voice grows deep as they watch me. “Just like that…” 

Leo slips two fingers back inside me and withdraws their thumb from my mouth, wet with my spit, and brings their hand down between my legs. Between their thumb rubbing soft circles on my clit and their fingers inside me, I’m gasping, staring at Leo with wide eyes as they fuck me with a pleased and lustful look on their face. 

Then, they stop and pull away. 

I whimper, aching from the absence of their touch. Their wet fingers come to rest against my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth, boy. Taste yourself,” they demand.

This time I’m eager. My lips part, tongue darting between their fingers. I suck lightly on their pointer finger, swirling my tongue down to the second knuckle before taking their middle finger in my mouth. My saliva gleams in the soft bathroom lighting as I surprise myself with my tongue searching for a third finger.

“Oh you want more, do you?” they chuckle. Their slick fingers reach down and find my opening, easily slipping a third finger inside me and drawing quite possibly the loudest moan out of me yet, eyes fluttering closed.

“Look at me.” 

I obey, struggling to concentrate my gaze on Leo’s green eyes, their pupils wide with lust in the dimly-lit bathroom. 

Their fingers stretch my cunt, forcing my legs further apart. I open myself to them, to the sensations overwhelming my body: pulsing, aching, throbbing pleasure. I love it. I want it. I want this more than anything. I’d do anything for the orgasm that’s building inside me. I find myself counting the holy promises I’d break to feel this sin again. 

The rasp of knuckles on the bathroom door breaks me out of my revelation. 

Leo’s hand flies over my mouth, stifling the little noises that are still escaping me as their fingers curl inside me. Panic and pleasure wash through me and I think about how close and yet how far I am from what I really want.

“Chastity?” a high-pitched voice squeaks behind the door. “Are you okay?” 

Panic wins the fight over pleasure as I grasp Leo’s wrist, removing their hand from my mouth. 

“Yeah! Fine! I’ll be out in just a second,” I gasp, breathless. I can imagine Emmylyee’s face, scrunched with befuddled concern.

“Okay!” she calls, sounding uncertain. “I’ll be in the service!” 

I concentrate, desperate to hear her footsteps leading her away from the bathroom.

“Fuck,” Leo exhales.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I gotta go. Shoot.” 

We both deflate and disentangle from each other, and I notice the tension drop from Leo’s shoulders. I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the sink. I pull up my khakis, feeling the ache of my swollen cunt as I button them. 

Leo reaches for the sink to wash their hands, and a part of me is still so lost in the sin that I’m disappointed I can’t lick their fingers clean. I pause in the mirror to check my hair. I have to get back to the service, but for the first time, I’m wondering if this is something I even want to repent for anymore.

I meet Leo’s eyes, just long enough that I wonder if they know this has caused a dam to break within me.

“Uh, you go first,” I stammer awkwardly. 

Their hand finds my face just long enough to brush a stray hair behind my ear. Then they’re gone.

I straighten my blouse, count to ten – no, fifteen, to be safe – and exit the bathroom, hoping the flush has drained from my cheeks.

The final twenty minutes of the service is a blur, my thoughts drifting back to Leo and the bathroom and the way we left things hanging. I am not focused on Pastor Keyyyyth’s sermon about repenting for lustful thoughts, my eyes drifting to the corner of my vision as I remember Leo ordering me to call them Daddy. When the Pastor quotes Matthew 5:28 – “But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart” – I can think only of the lustful deeds I have already committed, just now, and am dying to commit again. 

The service wraps with a song about sins being washed away. It opens with the lines, “Guilty… I am guilty…” and those words ring in my head but for once, they don’t ring true. I find myself wondering, why am I supposed to feel guilty about this?

We pour out into the lobby after service ends, chatting amongst ourselves about the weekend and the week ahead, and I glance over to the front doors. Leo is standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the door in their floral button-up, shiny boots, and sharp haircut. They catch my eye, wink, and disappear through the front door. 

“Who’s that, Chastity?” Emmylyee asks, following my gaze.

Heat rises in my body and I hope my fake smile contains my anxiety at her question.

“Oh, just someone I invited to church. I thought maybe they needed a change in their life…” I trail off, considering. I wonder to myself who of us needs a change. 

* * *

I’ve been home for the past three hours, puttering around my apartment, but I can’t seem to get anything done. After an attempt at Sunday afternoon meal prepping for the week that ends in burnt rice, I collapse on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

My phone pings and I sigh, rolling over, expecting a text from the Faith in Following 🙏✝️ group chat. But it’s not.

Butch4ButchBoytoy: [dropped pin]

Butch4ButchBoytoy: If you’re not busy… We can finish what we started.