Murder on Chastity Island

Author's Note:

Murder on Chastity Island was originally published on Kindle Unlimited. If memory serves, it was not removed for violating Amazon's vague content guidelines, but I thought it was only a matter of time, so I unpublished it myself.

This novella was an attempt at a mash-up of pulp detective fiction with femdom chastity and sex magic. I took my cues from the old pulp writer's advice that when the story flagged, someone should enter with a gun. In my case, it was somebody with chastity magic (and a gun.) As a pulp murder story, there is some violence. In particular there is a scene in Chapter 3 where the main character falls afoul of a pair of women who use their magic to overpower and abuse him.

I may or may not return to this world and these characters in the future. In the meantime, the entirety of the story is available at for free. Please enjoy, and remember that this is a fantasy. Almost all of the events are immoral and/or impossible in real life.

Part One

My office wasn't much: just a place to meet clients out of the rain. A desk, a cheap bookcase, and a filing cabinet for show. Going there was a risk, but I wanted to collect some items of sentimental value on the way out of town. A revolver I didn't want the police to run ballistics on and a half-bottle of rum I couldn't bear to leave behind. It was the good stuff.

Five years as a PI felt like they'd been nothing but a series of painful lessons that never sank in. My previous case... I should have known better, but Linda Durante had a fat purse and a way with words. The rat who'd cheated on her had been in deep with the Richetti family: a legitimately scary mob. Though Linda had only hired me get proof of infidelity, I'd ended up having to put the rat in the ground. It had made her happy. The Richetti family not so much.

As if that weren't enough, Linda's sister had turned out more enticing than a simple guy like me could resist. Her not-quite-ex was a crooked cop with a temper and friends in high places on both sides of the law.

The dust hadn't settled. My bank account was fat, but I needed to clear town until the stink of mad cops and thugs blew off. I did my best work in dark alleys, and there was a chance I wouldn't come out of the next one I walked into.

I had time for one last drink. I poured myself a slug of rum and settled in behind my desk. There was a knock at the door. I made sure the revolver was at hand, in case one of the characters I'd pissed off had come by to entertain me with a rendition of popular tunes played on my chin with knuckles. That was a show I'd seen before and I don't care for re-runs.

"Come in if you're going to," I said.

The woman who entered was the kind of knockout to make your heart sink. Tall, blond-haired, with generous curves in all the right places. She'd been poured into a tight black outfit that sang of money, power, and sex. If this dame had a cheating spouse, they were dumb as a sack of hammers and rich enough to buy or sell my lousy office a thousand times over. That's the kind of mix that would lead to a hired hand like me getting more than a black eye.

"Piper Brooks," she said, by way of introduction. "I have a job for you."

"Not taking new clients right now." I meant it. There was enough from the Durante case to let me idle for a while. I had dreams of a trip up the coast: Port Sapphire if I felt saucy, Silver Bay if not.

Her lips twitched surprise. This dame wasn't used to hearing "No."

"I'm aware of your current difficulties. We can help each other. The job is overseas."

That changed things. A working vacation would help the financial burden of skipping town. I might even turn a profit if I played the angles right. I gestured for her to sit.

She carefully smoothed the fabric of her pencil skirt beneath her ass before she settled in the cheap chair. Her chic ankle boots were the same shade of red as her lips and nails: like fresh blood on rain-slick concrete.

She leaned forward. The front of her top scooped down to reveal a tasty view of cleavage: a deep cleft between a pair of large, firm breasts. I felt an unprofessional reaction in my crotch and looked away too late. I imagined burying my face between those beauties and taking a deep breath.

"There's been a murder," she said.

That snapped me out of my trance. I shook my head. "You talked to the cops? I hear they like that kind of thing."

"Sure have," she said. "They tell me I did it."

"Did you?"

"No," she said. I wasn't sure I believed her.

"Murder isn't my line. Not usually."

"It used to be."

She'd done her homework. Three years in homicide with a couple high-profile collars wasn't hard to find, but few clients bothered to look. Piper Brooks was starting to look like the complete package: money, looks, and brains. A warning flashed in the back of my mind: Dangerous Curves Ahead.

"I'll pay travel expenses," she said. "Your usual fee. Plus a generous per diem on top for the inconvenience."

"What's the catch?" A rich client willing to pay top dollar for a washed-up cop turned private dick was a client who'd run out of choices. How far down her list had I been and how many had said no before she'd reached me?

"The job is on Castem."

I whistled through my teeth. "Murder on Chastity Island?"

She frowned. "We don't like that name. Only the males are chaste."

I shrugged. I took a swig of rum, realized I was being rude, and tilted the bottle towards Piper. She shook her head. I took another sip while I sized her up. I could almost see her as a Castem dame. She had the clothes and the attitude, but her body language was off. She was nervous instead of authoritative. Being a murder suspect can do that to a person.

I lingered for longer than was polite on her rack, swaddled in tight silk. My dick stiffened further. I fantasized thrusting it deep between her tits as she squeezed them tight. I shivered. The corner of her mouth curled into the start of a smile.

"Who's dead?" I asked, eager to get back on a more professional footing.

"Calypso Pax, she was my business partner."

"What kind of business?"

"We founded ChasteTech."

I'd heard of them. Male chastity for the masses: cages, teasers, the whole shebang. "I though you didn't need those gadgets on Castem?"

"We're based on Castem, but we sell to the mainland. They don't have the benefit of the island's unique properties."

Which was to say: men on Castem weren't able to come. There was some kind of magic on the island prevented men from achieving orgasm under any circumstances. I had trouble concentrating on Piper's words. My fantasy of fucking her tits grew more vivid each passing moment. I watched her lips move and imagined them urging me to go faster and harder, hungry to swallow my cock between her warm, creamy breasts.

I swallowed and crossed my legs. "You sure you want a man for the job? Seems like I'd be at a disadvantage."

She smiled like a cat seizing on a loose chunk of tuna. "More than a disadvantage. You'll be at the mercy of any woman on the island."

I squirmed in my seat. I was no submissive, but Piper's words and my tit-plunging fantasy had me fully erect.

"Your sexual arousal will be a plaything in the hands of women around you. They'll have you hard and horny with nothing more than a thought, able to tease your cock until you beg for mercy, which will not be given. Can you imagine it?"

I was imagining it. My cock quivered with anticipation behind the bulge in my pants. "The teasing magic only works on Castem, right?" My words came out in a dry croak. I felt like Piper Brooks had me under some kind of spell.

"Magic is more powerful on Castem, but those with talent or training can use it where they please. What's unique about Castem is that every woman there, no matter her talent, has the power of teasing magic."

I tried not to think about an island of women like the confident vixen sitting across from me. All with the ability to arouse me with a thought. I shook my head and gritted my teeth. I was a fast-punching, quick-shooting, tough guy with rocks for balls. I wasn't one of the submissive characters you saw in pictures of Castem: naked and collared, head bowed and three steps behind their mistress.

"So, why hire a man? I can give you the names of some crackerjack lady detectives." I wanted to steer the conversation to less erotically charged concerns.

"Murder is an overwhelmingly male pastime, but nobody on Castem takes them seriously. Men are more likely to tell the truth to another man. On Castem, males are trained to please and obey women."

I nodded. "You can't trust anything a guy says when his only purpose in life is to keep you happy."

"There's a man on Castem who killed my partner, I'm sure of it. I want you to find the monster."

"And clear your name into the bargain."

She nodded. "As you say."

"Why do the cops think you did it?"

"Calypso and I disagreed about the future of ChasteTech. I was at Calypso's house the night she died. We had an argument, but she was alive when I left."

I sniffed. "Pretty thin stuff. What else?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Professional disagreements don't tend to finish in murder. The cops know that. What else do they have?"

She wrinkled her nose and sighed. "Calypso was blackmailing me."

Blackmail. The kind of motive a guy could sink his teeth into. "With what?"

"Does it matter? Enough to ruin me, that's all you need to know."

The cast of her face told me I wouldn't get any more out of her on that topic. I nodded.

She took a manila envelope from her bag and tossed it on the desk. Inside were crime scene photos. Nasty ones. Calypso Pax had been carved up like a holiday roast in her own bed. White sheets turned red.

"How did you get these?"

"I have friends in the police department."

"Not enough of them to get away with murder. If they think you did it, why aren't you in jail?"

"They gave me time to get my affairs in order before I surrender myself."

I knew that one. "They're giving you a chance to run. Avoids a messy trial. Makes you look guilty. Closes the case without having to do any real police work. You gonna run?"

She laughed. "I intend to prove my innocence. I can get you a visitor's visa - without the usual psychological evaluations and red tape - for a week. Will that be long enough to find the real killer?"

I shrugged. "Depends how sloppy the police were. It can be done."

"Can you go a week without orgasm?"

I laughed. "One week is nothing."

"You'd be surprised. With teasing, I've seen men crack after only a few hours on Castem."

Johnny "Two-Knives" McAllister hadn't cracked me back in the day. I didn't think a spot of cock teasing could do the trick. "I'll be fine, sister."

"Do we have a deal?" She stood with fluid grace and held out her hand.

I fidgeted with my glass and tried to force my raging erection to subside through sheer force of will.

She noticed my hesitation. "I'm used to the sight of highly-aroused men. I won't be offended by your condition. Stand up."

I stood. She appraised the tent I'd pitched in the front of my pants and licked her blood-red lips. For a moment, it really felt like my penis was buried between her breasts. I gasped.

"A little taste of Castem," she said. "You up for it?"

"You bet your life."

"As a matter of fact, I do."


The ferry to Castem was a red and white steamer called The Female Future. It cut through clear blue water like it had something to prove. I don't trust the ocean any more than I'd trust a rich widow with a shaky alibi. The clean air and cool sea breeze had me yearning for the stink of a city. Even the dubious pleasures of Port Sapphire, behind us, would have been more comforting. I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag of poison smoke to remind myself of home.

The other passengers were female tourists and mixed gender groups returning to the island. I was the only man aboard traveling alone. I got a few hostile looks, like I was doing something wrong going to Castem unsupervised. Maybe I was, but I didn't care.

The men hovered around their female companions like eager puppies hoping for a treat. At the halfway point of the trip, with the mainland a narrow line behind us and Castem not yet in sight, the women barked commands or snapped their fingers and the men began to disrobe. Naked, apart from neck collars and steel cages secured tight around their dicks, they held themselves for inspection: hands behind backs, asses clenched, crotches thrust forward.

They were all good-looking, with lean, not overly muscular builds. Like a group of swimmers or gymnasts. I stared at their chastity cages.

A trim, red-haired woman in a sleek gray pantsuit and black heels came alongside me. She had serious hazel eyes, a mischievous smile, and a constellation of freckles spread across her angular face. The pantsuit was tailored to accentuate her lithe, athletic build.

"A male will typically wear a cage off-island," she said. "To maintain chastity."

"Poor saps don't even get to orgasm when they're on the mainland?"

She shrugged. "Depends on the mistress. Some allow a limited release under strict supervision. A rare treat for the toy to look forward to. Others argue it would be a sign of weakness to permit any orgasm whatsoever. It's a topic of lively debate."

"I can imagine." I held out my hand and started to introduce myself.

She shook her head and ignored my hand. "Don't bother. Nobody has any use for your name on Castem. Get used to answering to "boy," "toy," or "male.""

It was my turn to shake my head. "You allowed a name?" I asked.

"Simone Steele," she said. "You should call me Mistress Simone."

I laughed and walked away. The dame was crazy if she thought I was going to get caught up in the male chastity and female domination nonsense. I had a killer to find, a pay check to earn, and maybe a little extra to squeeze out of the situation if I played a good angle. Nobody pulled my strings.

The white marble and brick towers of Castem's harbor came into view. I felt a strange sensation in my crotch. A phantom hand wrapped itself around my dick and stroked me with a slow, lazy rhythm, as if I were being given a well-lubricated hand-job. I reacted as any man would. I covered the bulge in the front my pants with my hands.

Simone Steel came up again. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you took those off?"

"Leave it out, sister. What's going on?"

"We crossed the boundary. We're close enough to the island for the magic to work. Any woman who can see you can tease you as she likes."

I looked around, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to me. The women unlocked the chastity cages of their male companions. As each penis was released, it swelled to full, straining erection.

"We're within range of the orgasm block," said Simone. "No man on board is capable of orgasm, so it's safe for them to be released and teased. It's considered rude for a man to be flaccid in public, so they're getting enough arousal to ensure they're nice and hard."

"Shit." I wasn't eager to talk to the redhead about naked guys with hard dicks and the women who kept them that way with their minds, but she was a source of badly needed local knowledge.

I nodded down towards my crotch. "Who's doing this to me?"

"Could be anyone. Even me."

"Doesn't take any effort? You don't have to close your eyes and chant?"

Simone's laugh was like a mountain waterfall. "The magic is a natural extension of our senses. I can examine your arousal and toy with it any way I want, with nothing more than a thought."

"But only if you can see me?" That was a small mercy.

"A woman can also cast a spell to repeat a simple tease for a time. The hand that's stroking your cock could go on for hours, even after the woman who cast the spell has left. If you were bonded to a mistress, she could tease you however she wanted, no matter where you were.


"Being bonded is a link between a toy and his mistress built through sustained teasing, edging, submission from the male, and mutual attraction. It's very powerful. The most intense connection a man and woman can have. I doubt you'll last long enough on Castem to experience it."

"I sure hope not."

Without warning, the phantom hand job increased in both speed and vigor. I gasped at the sudden boost in arousal and jerked my hips, thrusting out of control.

"You might want to kneel until you get used to it," said Simone.

"I don't kneel for no-one, sugar." I sat on a bench. I yelped as the invisible hand caressed the dome of my cock with a well-moistened palm.

Done with teasing their own men for the moment, several of the women on board, alerted by my yelp, piled on a few teases of their own. A second, faster and looser, hand-job overlaid the first. The two sets of arousal were distinct, but blended into a distracting symphony of pleasure.

It was pleasure without purpose. Soon I was on the hard edge of orgasm, eager to climax, but the orgasm block of Castem prevented the natural course of affairs. I squirmed against the hard bench as the gap between arousal and climax shrunk, but never enough to let me come. My balls and cock were tight: riled up, but denied relief. A pair of phantom palms rolled my testicles like stress-relief balls. It didn't do much to relieve my stress.

A steady stream of sticky pre-come stained the fly of my pants. What should have been the herald of an explosive burst of semen was a reminder of the magical force preventing my body from doing what came naturally. I gritted my teeth and groaned in frustration.

Simone passed me a bottle of water. "Stay hydrated. You'll be surprised how much liquid a man can lose through pre-come during a sustained tease."

"How long is this gonna go on for?" According to my watch it hadn't even been five minutes since the phantom hand job had started, but it felt like I'd been ground against the edge of climax for hours.

"I doubt you'll go for long without a tease of some kind on the island. Especially if you draw attention, walking around with clothes on. An unattached, clothed male stands out and your cock is fair game for anyone who wants to play."

"I'm not like the rest of these freaks. I ain't going around naked. How do men stand for it?"

"They love it. The kind of men who come to Castem are the kind who want women to tease and deny them until they're out of their mind with aroused frustration."

"And the women?"

"The women like being in control, love being surrounded by a devoted harem of chastity toys who live to serve and pleasure them. They feed on the frustration energy of the desperate, horny men around them."

"Frustration energy?"

Simone smiled and licked her glossy pink lips. "Sexually frustrated males exude a kind of energy that women on Castem can absorb. It fuels magic powers, keeps them healthy, makes them stronger. All of that and more."

I scoffed. There were rumors of incredible feats by the women of Castem. Nothing I believed.

Simone smiled at my skepticism. "I can skim your frustration off like cream. Watch what I can do with it."

She suddenly seemed to grow twelve inches. It took a moment for me to realize her feet weren't touching the deck of the ship. She floated in the air, toes pointed down like a ballerina. Supported by nothing, she slowly spun around.

"That's impossible," I said.

"Not when there's a male around as sexually frustrated as you. You're practically dripping with frustration energy." She gracefully lowered herself. "There's only one of you and you're new, so there's only so much I can do."

Castem harbor loomed large ahead of us. The all-female crew prepared the ferry for arrival.

"Good luck getting through immigration," said Simone. "They're a little paranoid about male tourists."


"There are more submissive men who want to relocate to Castem than there are mistresses to assume responsibility for them. Only the best are allowed in, and only if they are claimed by a mistress. An unattached male is pretty useless."

I remained to be convinced there were men clamoring to live on an island where they couldn't orgasm. And I was damn sure I'd be far from useless, in spite of what the redhead said.

"I'll be fine. I'm just here to do a job."

"Good luck and don't say you weren't warned. If I were you, I'd ditch the clothes before you hit passport control. Clothes on a man send the wrong message."

"Not a chance. See you around, lady."

"That's "Mistress" to you, male."

She walked towards the gangplank. In spite of the cascade of stimulation assaulting my cock, I felt a new surge of arousal as I watched her tight buttocks undulate beneath the form-fitting fabric of her pants.

She stopped and turned halfway back. "I felt that, you naughty boy. Seriously: get naked before you leave the ship."

I shook my head. The women on Castem could do a few special tricks, but I was confident I could talk my way past immigration if there was a problem. These women might think they were pretty hot stuff, but they hadn't figured on me.

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