Chastity People Sub Plot: Therapy #3

Subplot from the otherwise free Web Novel "Chastity People"

See the entire series!

More of the Petula subplot for my wonderful paid subscribers, though I’m thinking I should turn the whole thing into an ongoing series: “Chastity, Actually”…

Chastity People: Therapy #3

"Excuse me," said Petula. "You're a chaste. How about we go somewhere private?"

The man looked up from where he was browsing the organic fruit display. "Sorry, I'm exclusive. You should have checked the app."

Petula shifted her weight from leg to leg --- it was getting hard to carry this knot of lust between her thighs. "But you're a collared chaste!"

"Yes," said the man, "an owned one."

Petula blinked at him. "You can be owned?"

"You should read the FAQs," said the man, turning away.

Damn. Third turn down so far. Her original target --- the barista --- had just said she looked "sweet" but was sorry he couldn't leave the place unattended. However, it was pretty clear that he just didn't fancy her. Maybe Mother was right about her clothes.

Petula strode into the middle of the pedestrian precinct and cast around for a new quarry.

Nothing, nobody.

It was still well before lunch. Maybe this was too early to go hunting...

A flash caught her eye.

The window of a boardgames café!

Had it been the glass catching the sun?

There was only one customer in the café, a long-haired guy her age who seemed to be sorting through some picture cards.

Petula sniffed.

This was the sort of nerdy metal head loser she'd learned to step around at parties. They always assumed she was one of them.

However, she didn't need him for his conversation.

Petula stalked closer and pretended to read the menu...

Actually the menu had useful information after all, more information than she got from watching her potential victim. He had a black hoody with a demonic design wasn't as cool as he thought it was, but did hide any possible collar.

Petula stared out of the corner of her eye, willing him to show some neck --- was this how vampires felt?

At last, the metal head leaned back in his chair, stretched and yawned, and there was that tell-tale flash of glass at his throat.

"Got you!"

But Petula couldn't move.

"Damn it!"

She closed her eyes, remembered beating the shit out of the Subject in the therapy studio less than an hour ago, how the blood ran down his buttocks, how he pleaded and wept, how her vagina had throbbed each time her chosen implement cracked into his skin.

Grinning now, she shoved the door open, marched up to her prey's table and sat down. "Hello."

He blinked like a startled rabbit then grinned stupidly. "Did you want to play Arkham Gathering?"

She glanced at the cards, wrinkled her nose at what she saw. "No. I have a life."

More stupid blinking.

"Do you have a name?" she said, pressing her advantage.

"Uh, Ryan."

"Well, 'Uh-Ryan', are you exclusive?"

Ryan touched his glass collar. "What? No. I mean I haven't had long enough."

Petula leaned across the table. "How long since you were upgraded?"

Ryan actually blushed. "Um. Just two weeks."

"So you have nearly five years to go?"

He nodded.

"That will do," said Petula.

The silence stretched on. She was probably supposed to do something sexy now, maybe kick off her shoes and tease his ankles, except she was wearing sensible brogues and they really didn't kick off unless you unlaced them.

"Did you want something?" asked Ryan.

"Yes," said Petula. "You're going to perform cunnilingus on me until I tell you to stop."

"Uh," said Ryan. "What, here?" He laughed. "It's a bit public."

"No, idiot." Petula pushed back her chair and strode over to the bar.

The manager was one of those ageing Goth women who liked flaunting her cleavage. She glanced past Petula at Ryan, then smirked.

Petula gave her a stern look. "We'd like a private room to play..." She glanced around at the posters. "...Mazes and Monsters."

"Mazes and Monsters is it?"

"Just for an hour."

"Take the Dil--- Bilbo Room downstairs. Ryan knows the way."

"Come on Ryan," said Petula. She snapped her fingers to get his attention.