Chastity

Co-written with AO3 user greyleft

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

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

Notes: Based on a real hate comment. Thanks for the porn inspo, whoever you were.

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.