Male Chastity Story

Chastity Van Dyke has found her role in life. She’s going to become a nun. Despite the shock and disgust from her family, Chastity is forging ahead with her plan. Nothing is going to stop her – will it? Because of inconvenient circumstances, Julian Beaumont has to enlist the woman he hates the most to help him schmooze Italian businessmen. Of course, Chastity demands compensation – not for herself but for a small convent in Boston. After agreeing to make a sizable donation to the convent, Chastity helps him. Then it happened. His heart betrayed his better sense. Now, Julian has feelings for the Devil’s spawn. When he tries to express them, Chastity runs away. He knows she has a secret. And whatever that secret is it’s keeping them apart. Once he discovers it, it doesn’t deter him for long. Julian won’t rest until Chastity is his despite what his little harpy has planned for her life. “You’re not tired. You’re leaving because you’re uncomfortable with having a good time with me.” “What? I am not.” “You are to.” Julian let go of her arm. “I never figured you for a coward.” “I am not a coward.” “Then why do you keep running from me?” he asked seriously. “I’m not running from anything. I’m tired.” “Right. Chastity, I’ve decided not to stop.” She didn’t like the determined look in his eyes. “Not to stop what?” “Pursuing you. By the time I get finished with you, you’re not going to be a nun no more than I am.” Ire flared and before she knew it, she whacked Julian on the cheek as hard as she could. Chastity stormed off in a hurry.

I sat in the driver's seat as the GPS chimed, "You've arrived at Northpoint Corp. Check-in successful." I looked up. Graves. Nothing but graves. My phone buzzed. My boss tagged me in the group chat: [Zane Zander, system says you checked in ten minutes ago. Where the hell are you? The whole company's waiting. Learned how to spoof your GPS to slack off?] Cold sweat slid down my back. I stared at the fresh headstone outside my window. My photo was on it. My hands shook. I tried to send my boss a video—no signal. Just dead bars. No service. So how did I check in? Worse— In the rearview mirror, someone in my exact outfit rose slowly from behind a dirt mound. Could it be... Was I already "dead"?

I am the long-lost true heir of the Kensington family. In just the second month after reconciling with the Kensington family, I solved a technical problem that the Kensington Corp's Military Research Institute had failed to crack for five whole years. Yet, my adoptive brother, Sean Kensington, the fake heir, exchanged my patent bonus worth millions for a 20-percent-off coupon for a cup of latte. I went to my older sister, Sonya, the CEO, but she simply waved her hand dismissively, completely unconcerned. "Enough, Wesley. Sean just did it for your own good. If you're holding onto that much money, what if some organization set their eyes on you? This way, your safety is protected. "Besides, you've only come to the city not long ago. I doubt you've ever had something like a latte before. Take it as a chance to experience it. I'll even give you another ten dollars. You can buy yourself another cup." I looked at the condescension in her eyes, planning to send the recording to our parents. Yet, I saw on their social media that they had just bought a seaside mansion and a luxury car as a celebration gift for Sean's achievements. Then, I glanced at the coupon they had just sent me. [You did help Sean after all. Your father and I bought you a cake as a reward. Go pick it up yourself.] I checked the price. After discount, it was a mere 13 bucks. They had to be kidding me. I directly dialed the number of Kensington Corp's rival company, Jet Group. "I think the exclusive patent for this new missile should be yours. From now on, all my research results will only be shared with Jet Group."

When I'm cleaning my home, I sweep out an extremely thin condom that has already been used from under the bed. The sight of it makes my heart sink to the pits of my stomach. I'm severely allergic to latex, so there's no way I would ever use such things. Just as I'm contemplating whether I should ask my fiancee, Shelly Hartman, about the condom, she sends me a voice message on WhatsApp at that moment. "Babe, I have a company dinner to attend tonight, so I won't be going home for dinner. I might be home later than usual. You can just go to bed early. There's no need to wait up for me. Love you so much!"

Everything is ready on the day of my wedding. But the bride, Adella Marlowe, is nowhere to be seen. That's when she texts me on my phone. Apparently, as a national shooting champion, there's a last-minute competition that she has to attend right away, all consequences be damned. But the next day, I see a social media post uploaded by Raiden Chase, the newest recruit in Adella's team. In the photo, I see Adella with one foot on a dead wild boar while propping her gun with a proud smile on her face. The caption goes, "I'm so glad to have a wife who's also a national shooting champion! Now, Grandma won't have to worry about her corn fields getting attacked by wildlife!" As I stare at the post, I just smile and leave a comment. "As expected of the champion whose heart goes out to the normal folk!" Adella quickly calls me the next moment. "Delete your comment right now! Also, stop being all passive-aggressive around me! It's just a missed wedding; must you be so snide about it?" This isn't Adella's first time leaving me at the altar. It's been two years, and every time she ditches me at the altar, she always has an excuse to do so. I just hang up on Adella without saying a word. She's right, though. This is just a wedding, isn't it? I might as well call it off once and for all.

I'm the best plastic surgeon in the industry. Hendrick Twain is a regular customer of mine who has gotten his manhood enlarged nine times via surgery. But after I performed the latest surgery on him, he decides to linger around in my clinic instead of leaving. He keeps showing off his brand-new luxury watch while gloating to me, "Isn't this watch pretty, Dr. Yard? Winona was the one who gifted it to me." Upon noticing my lack of reaction, Hendrick approaches with a smile on his face. Then, he lowers his voice. "What's the use of preserving your chastity, anyway? Winona prefers to be with a plastic hunk like me, who's gone through nine manhood enlargement procedures, than be with you, Mr. Au Naturale." As I stare at Hendrick's face, which has gone under the knife countless times for minor adjustments, I remember the excuses Winona Grahm made to my face every night to avoid going home. Just the memory makes my gut churn in disgust. All of my grievances and disgust turn into ice at that moment. Finally, I take the wedding ring off my ring finger and place it on the desk gently. Then, I grab my phone and dial the number, which I haven't called in the past three years. "Dad." I sound eerily calm on the phone. "Since Winona thinks marriage is nothing but a joke to her, then there's no need for the Grahm family to continue existing in this world."

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

My son is severely allergic to pollen, and because of his rare blood type, he must receive a specific desensitization injection at a bigger hospital in a different state. To make that happen, I deliberately booked the same flight as my wife just so our son could get help as soon as possible. But she insists on waiting for her late-arriving first love, refusing to let the plane take off. When I confront her, she says, "All passengers are equal. If the plane can wait for you, why can't it wait for him? Cam still needs to celebrate Josie's birthday. It's just ten minutes. Nothing will happen!" However, by the time we arrive at the hospital, the doctor tells us we missed the critical window for treatment. We were just ten minutes too late. Our son has now become a vegetable.

"Does riding a horse feel good?" The saddle jolted beneath us as the horse trotted along. I steadied myself by holding the slender waist of my friend's alluring wife. Her skirt fluttered constantly in the wind. My friend was in a nearby house, completely absorbed in a card game—while right in front of him, I was out riding a horse with his beautiful, delicate young wife…