Restraint of a Sort

The bar was warm, loud enough to feel alive but not so crowded that Zach could lose himself in the background noise--not that it mattered. He wasn't getting out of this conversation.

He slouched in his chair, ripped jeans torn at the knee, hoodie stained with something he chose to believe was beer. His beer, barely touched, sat in front of him as he listened to his wife and her personal brand of insanity go head-to-head with Anna Fuckin' Whitmore, who was always one wrong turn away from fully colonizing the male species.

Curvy and dark-haired Carrie, of course, was thriving. Tight everything, her body poured into a top that made it very clear that physics was an illusion, cleavage deeper than the Atlantic, a Long Island Iced Tea in hand.

Little blonde Anna was a perfect contrast--crisp, composed, peach blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, sipping on a Black Cherry Wishniak like she was about to deliver a verdict.

And the topic?

Fuckin' chastity.

Zach wanted to die.

"I'm just saying," Carrie gestured lazily, the ice in her drink clinking as she swirled it. "Lock 'em up, make 'em wait, tease 'em a little--it's fun. A few days? They can fucking handle that."

Anna blinked. Slow. Disapproving. "Carina Marie Delvecchio, you're being childish."

Carrie gasped, clutching her own chest like she'd just been struck.

Zach put his head down on the table.

Anna sighed, unmoved. "Chastity is not a game, Carrie. That's where you lose me."

Carrie scoffed. "Of course it's a game. It's sexy. It's about control, and anticipation, and making a man earn it."

Anna sipped her drink. "A man earns nothing."

Carrie blinked. "What?"

Anna exhaled, setting her glass down with purpose. "You lock them up, and you keep them there."

Zach felt the shift in the air immediately.

Carrie squinted. "For... how long?"

Anna met her gaze, impassive. "However long I decide."

Zach lifted his head. "Oh fuck this."

Carrie leaned in, intrigued. "Okay, but like... you let them out eventually, right?"

Anna took another deliberate sip, then reached for her purse.

"You lock them--" she said, voice calm.

She tipped the bag over.

"You keep them there--"

And twenty-four fuckin' sets of keys spilled onto the table.

Silence.

Carrie's mouth fell open. "Anna Grace Whitmore! You flat-chested psycho, you carry them around with you?"

Zach stared. "Like a portable fan club"

The sheer weight of the moment made the neon signs buzz louder.

Carrie finally managed to breathe. "You. Absolute. Menace."

Anna simply adjusted her cuffs. "I don't play games, Carrie."

Zach let out a long, exhausted exhale.

Carrie says, "I got one man, one dick, one cage. And now I gotta live with the knowledge that you--" she gestured vaguely at the sheer pile of chastity keys in front of her, "--are runnin' an underground fuckin' chastity empire."

Anna's expression didn't fuckin' change. In fact, it almost never did.

Carrie was still staring. "You don't even know which key goes to who, do you?"

Anna smiled, predatory. "No idea."

Carrie shuddered. "That's... horrifying."

Anna tilted her head. "Is it? Or is it..." she picked up a key at random, rolling it between her fingers, "...liberating?"

Zach fuckin' hated this.

Carrie took a long, bracing sip of her drink. "So you're telling me you have--what?--two dozen poor bastards locked the fuck up right now, and you just... hold the keys like a goddamn dragon hoardin' treasure?"

Anna smirked. "I prefer queen."

Carrie whistled. "Wow. You're actually insane."

Anna adjusted her glasses. "Oh, please. If men wanted control, they would have earned it by now."

Zach groaned. "Oh my god."

Carrie folded her arms. "Okay, but do they at least know where their key is?"

Anna arched a brow. "What an absurd question."

Carrie blinked. "You absolute terrorist."

Zach pushed back from the table. "Nope. Nope. I'm done."

Carrie cackled. "Oh, come on, babe! Ain't you the least bit curious about her twisted manifesto?"

Anna straightened in her seat, as if awaiting her moment.

Zach threw up his hands. "I--I literally am not."

Anna exhaled. "You misunderstand the nature of power, Zachary."

Zach stood up immediately. "NOPE. I refuse to be part of whatever dystopian fuckin' femdom TED Talk is happening here."

Anna took her drink in hand, unfazed. "Weak."

Carrie, still wide-eyed at the absolute scope of Anna's depravity, exhaled. "You know what, Anna Grace Whitmore?" She reached for her Long Island Iced Tea. "You might be insane, but I respect the commitment."

Anna inclined her head. "Good girl."

Carrie choked on her drink.

Zach turned on his heel and left the building.