The Purity Ring, part 1

This story was originally posted at on 2020-01-16.

Finn buys a cursed purity ring from Christian bookshop owner Mr Pollex. It proves to be more than he can handle.

“You have the most beautiful hands.”

I snatched my hand away, a little roughly. Mr Pollex seemed hurt by this, but he quickly regained his composure. “When you’re my age, you learn to enjoy the great pleasure of admiring the easy graces of youth,” he said. “I’m so very sorry if I… weirded you out there. May I help you find anything else?”

I looked around at Mr Pollex’s stock of books on religion and philosophy. There were so many classic works of apologetics and dialectics on his shelves. I recognised a few of the authors: Lewis, Craig, Plantinga. For a small town, Phalanx, Minnesota had already been well supplied by a full five Christian bookstores. I wondered what unique contribution Mr Pollex thought he could make by opening a sixth. Anyway, I wasn’t here to buy any of his books. Maybe another time.

“I’m fine, thank you. Just this ring, please.”

Mr Pollex took the ring in his dry, thin fingers and examined the price tag pasted around the rim. Dear Lord, I hate those things. The labels, I mean. You end up getting your fingernails coated in whatever annoying glue they use to make them so sticky. I’m not such a big fan of purity rings either, I guess, but my girlfriend Lunula has been pushing me to wear one just like her. She’s so serious about saving ourselves for marriage and all that. I think it’s worth it, though. She’s so sweet. Always turns the other cheek. I told her I loved her cheeks, however she turned them. That made her smile, but she also feels bad for my eternal soul when she hears me say things like that. “Finn, what would Jesus say?” and all that. Well, a guy just can’t help himself sometimes, you know?

“Three dollars, my dear young man…”

“Here.” I pushed the bills over to Mr Pollex. He smiled an overly magnanimous smile before dropping the ring into my palm. It was heavy – surprisingly so. I pocketed the ring and left pretty quick. The old man definitely had a creepy vibe. I wished I’d gone to Karpel’s Christian Books instead.

“Oh, Finn! It looks lovely. This means so much to me.” Lunula gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek. I guess it was worth it. “Let me see it again.” She held my left ring finger in her soft, warm hands. “Oh, you forgot to take the sticker off it. Silly!” She peeled away the price tag, bit by bit. “Cool, there’s actually some writing on it.” I looked closer at the solid circle of silver around my finger. Engraved in black were some tiny letters: IMPURITYINCARNATE. The letters ran too close together, and the ‘I’m’ had lost its apostrophe. Cheap Chinese manufacturing, probably. “Finn, it looks good on you.” She squeezed my hand. “You make me so happy.”

“I could say the same about you, sweet cheeks,” I said. Lunula blushed. I let my hand brush a lock of hair from her face, let it slide down her neck and shoulder. Lunula relaxed into my touch. My hand reached the curve of her butt. Huh, my finger was itching like crazy. I clenched my fingers, on a reflex.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Lunula frowned.

“Sorry! The ring, it got fucking itchy for a minute.”

Lunula winced as I swore in front of her. “Grabbing my bottom like that! You know I’m not comfortable doing… stuff like that! Especially in public!” she hissed.

“For God’s sake, Lunula, it was an accident!” I said, while scratching at the skin around the ring. “The ring made my fucking hand spasm, or something!”

“Oh, the ring made you do it, huh?” Lunula looked pissed off. “What’s wrong with you today? Taking our Lord’s name in vain, using foul language… I thought asking you to wear a purity ring would bring us closer, but now I see that you really just want to … you know, it just… hurts me so much that you’re not taking this seriously!”

“Lunula, it’s not like that!” Fucking ring. It was making my finger swell or something; I couldn’t take it off. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell happened, I just…”

“Screw you, Finn Gerson. Screw! You! I… I need to go.” I watched her march away through the park, the wind whipping her auburn hair across the back of her dress. Fucking ring. It was still itching.

I got on a bus heading towards home. The god-damned ring was still itching. It was driving me crazy. And Lunula! What the hell happened there?

Now my balls were starting to itch. Shit, I hope I’m not allergic to whatever the ring’s made of. I tried to adjust myself in my tight jeans. I arched my back, raised my ass off the seat so I could pull my briefs up a little without having to stand. It didn’t seem to make much difference. I had to scratch. My right hand moved down to my jeans. Ahhh… better. But I couldn’t quite reach. I pushed my hand deeper, my knuckles scraping past the waistband of my jeans until my whole fist was in my pants. I scratched my balls. I might have moaned a little. Scratching an itch can be so satisfying, you know?

The itching finally subsided. I willed myself to stop and take my hand away, but it felt like my hand was moving on its own. That was weird. The bus was almost empty, but I worried about other passengers noticing. I tried to pull my hand out again. I felt my fingers wrap around my penis and start to massage it. What the fuck?

I looked at my left hand, the ring gripping my finger snugly. I tried to move my left hand to grab my right. No response. I had lost control of my own fucking hands. What the actual fuck?! The fingers on my left hand curled and straightened, as if testing their range of movement, then moved up to my chest. The hand rubbed my flat chest, brushed my nipples through the material of my T-shirt. Exploring, teasing.

My right hand grasped the waistband of my briefs and pushed the material down below my balls, giving easier access to my dick. The fingers returned to my dick, stroking, caressing, gripping. Shit, I was getting hard. I tried to tense my arms, but it didn’t make any difference to my predicament. The hands – I was no longer sure if I could call them ‘my’ hands – continued to play with my body like a toy. The left hand was now snaking its way under my shirt. I let out a low moan as it pinched my right nipple. I looked down at my crotch. My penis was fully hard, the head now extended out of my jeans. The hand was settling into a steady pumping motion around my shaft. Each stroke rubbed the head of my dick against the constricting material of my jeans. The friction, the pressure, felt incredible. No! I didn’t want to shoot like this! I tried to stand up, but the left hand pushed me back hard in the middle of my chest, and I felt the grip of the hand on my dick tighten sharply. A warning. I forced myself to relax, letting the hands get back to their ungodly work.

The bus pulled into a stop and a couple of passengers got up to leave. A young dude with a preppy haircut and button-up shirt shot me a dirty look on his way out, shaking his head. I can only imagine how I looked sitting there, with one hand jerking up and down in my jeans and the other doing God knows what under my shirt. Fuck, I was getting close. I could feel my balls tensing, ready to unload. The hands seemed to sense this, too. The right hand let go of my dick, allowing the waistband of my jeans to settle back on my dickhead. The left hand emerged from under my shirt, the purity ring still sitting tight on my finger, mocking me. For a moment, I thought I was going to regain control of my hands. Then, both hands moved to my neck. Gripping my T-shirt collar, the hands ripped through the fabric in a single swift movement. No, no, no! My shirt fell away to the sides, exposing my chest and lightly toned abdomen. The hands returned to their previous activities, the right hand continuing to pump my shaft, the left exploring my chest and tweaking my nipples.

One of the other passengers was watching from halfway down the bus. From the man’s grim expression I doubted that he was enjoying the view. I felt my face reddening. The hand on my dick began to speed up. Oh God, no! I didn’t want to shoot with some random stranger watching! “Hey!” I said. “Help m—“ The left hand flew up to my face and clamped itself over my mouth, muffling me. I could feel the ice-cold rim of the purity ring on my lip. I continued to make muffled groans and grunts as I writhed on the edge of climax. I tried to hold back the impending orgasm. The hand on my dick shifted position. Now it was tightly gripping the underside of the head. I knew I couldn’t hold out long if it was going to stroke me like that. The hand began to move again, slower, but more firmly. Keeping me on edge. My balls tensed. I shook my upper body from side to side, arched my hips, tried to dislodge my hands from their evil work.

It was no use. As my climax hit, I thrust my hips forwards and yelled into the hand gagging me as my dick erupted with a massive rope of seed, leaving a sticky white trail from my neck to my belly. Fuck! The hand continued to stroke me as my penis spurted several more times. I was breathing hard through my nose, the left hand still clamped tightly over my mouth. I felt my load pooling on my groin, drying, becoming sticky. The man who had been watching me all this time also shook his head. “Disgusting.” He got up to speak to the driver. Shit. My humiliation was not over yet, though. Several more pairs of eyes were now on me as I lay covered in my own jizz. To my horror, the fingers of my right hand scooped up some of my seed and brought it to my lips. There was no way I was going to taste my own jizz! I clenched my lips together tightly with my teeth. I thought the hands would try to force their way into my mouth, but instead my right hand proceeded to wipe my seed over my lips and across my face. I tried not to breathe in the smell of my own jizz, but there was so much of it. I heard the other passengers muttering to themselves as I fought to control my hands. “How obscene… should be reported to the cops… ought to be ashamed of himself…”

The bus pulled in to its next stop. I was definitely getting out here before the driver decided to kick me off himself. Thankfully the hands didn’t try to stop me this time as I carefully got to my feet, leaving the other passengers’ disapproving stares behind me as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Fucking ring! It was definitely cursed or something! I needed to take it off, but my hands were still not co-operating. They were still trying to smear more of my drying seed across my exposed chest and face. I shoved them deep into my pockets, which seemed to pacify them for the moment.

I looked around. I was back in the part of town where Mr Pollex had his bookshop. Maybe I could get him to take the ring off. I wasn’t thrilled about having him see me like this, but it was the only thing I could think of that might work. I set off in the direction of his shop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear young man,” said Mr Pollex. “I’ve just shut my doors for the day.” He took a closer look at me, seeing my torn shirt, face streaked with seed. I thought I saw amusement in his gray eyes. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.”

“Wait! Please!” I pleaded. “That ring you sold me… I need you to take it back! It…” I couldn’t find the words, but it was plainly apparent to Mr Pollex what the ring had made me do, as he didn’t seem shocked at all. “Come on, man! I can’t go back home like this!”

Mr Pollex looked me up and down. “Well, I suppose I could take a look and see if there is something I can do.” He took a key from his jacket pocket and unlocked the door to his shop. “Go on in.” He followed me into the dimly lit shop. In the light from the streetlamps outside, the haphazard stacks of religious books cast long shadows across the floor. “Down the stairs.” He pulled aside a heavy black curtain, which I hadn’t noticed before. I ducked my head under the curtain rail and followed Mr Pollex down some wooden steps into a sort of workshop and storage area filled with even more books, as well as some unusual furniture and metalworking equipment. Mr Pollex flipped a switch on the wall. I blinked as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered into life.

“What is your name, my dear?” I told him, and he smiled. “Finn, the young man with the beautiful hands. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Now, let me see your fingers.” I took my hands out of my pockets. Mr Pollex stepped into a side room. I heard a tap running. He returned with a wet hand towel. Taking my left hand, Mr Pollex gently wiped my thumb with the towel, then each finger, leaving my ring finger for last. “Did I mention that you have the most beautiful hands, my dear?” I frowned as he chuckled to himself. Reminding myself that I needed his help, I returned my expression to neutral. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, my dear Finn, but your delicate fingers, perfectly proportioned, warm to the touch, smooth and supple… It is such a shame to confine such lovely parts of your body. Hands should be free to explore, to caress… to stimulate.” He ran his finger and thumb along my ring finger, testing the snug grip of the purity ring around the base. “Not locked away, waiting for the… the perfect fit.” He gave the ring a sharp tug. “After all, the devil makes work for idle hands, does he not?” He chuckled again at his own lame joke as he rolled my finger in his hand. He paused. “I’m so sorry about this, my dear, but I really should ask you to come back tomorrow. I don’t know how that ring got into my inventory… shouldn’t have been out on display… Ahem, but the good news is that I can certainly remove it.”

“You can? Then do it!” I said, a little too loudly. I tried again to pull the ring off my finger, to no avail.

“Hold your horses, young man. I can remove it, but not right now. It requires a special tool that I do not keep in my shop, but I can bring it here tomorrow morning.”

“Are you fucking serious? This ring is… It’s evil! Come on man, please! Take it off!”

Mr Pollex stepped back, scowling. “Finn! I offer you my help and you scream and shout when I tell you it can’t be done right this moment! And such un-Christian language! Oh… of course, it’s to be expected,” he trailed off, while I unclenched my fists. Or at least, I tried to. I shot a panicked look at my hands, which were refusing to co-operate. Mr Pollex saw it and smiled. “I have a suggestion. Well, more of an ultimatum. You may leave my shop now, and come back tomorrow, and I give you my word that I will remove that ring from your finger when you return.” He watched my face for any signs of interest. ”Or, you may stay here overnight, and I will make sure that the ring cannot cause any difficulties for you until tomorrow morning when I can retrieve the tool I require.”

I considered the two options. I didn’t want to face the journey home in my current state, and I had no idea what my hands might do to me next. On the other hand, I didn’t trust Mr Pollex… but I couldn’t think of any alternative if I wanted to get the ring off. “Fine,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll stay here.”

“Very good.” He seemed relieved. “Then I hope you don’t mind if I make you a bit more comfortable.” Mr Pollex slipped my torn shirt off my arms. He used it to wipe my face and chest a little, before draping it over the back of a chair. “Now, Finn, you must trust me when I say that this is for your own safety.”

Mr Pollex turned me to face away from him. I felt him bring my arms together behind my back. I heard him pick up something metallic. He took my right hand and pushed my wrist into a metal cuff, locking it with several clicks of the ratchet. I was not sure whether it was me or the ring, but my left hand tried to swing round in front of my body. Before it could do so, Mr Pollex had seized my left arm and locked the other cuff onto my left wrist. “Is this really necessary?” I asked. There was no reply. I heard something else being picked up. My arms were being pushed into something smooth, cold. I turned around. I was being put into some kind of leather restraint. “What the fuck are you doing? Hey!”

“Finn, trust me, this armbinder is entirely for your own safety. I just want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” The leather pulled tightly around my arms as Mr Pollex laced it up. I could barely move my arms separately. I felt Mr Pollex pushing me towards a door. Beyond, there was a small bed, a chair, a pile of rope. He sat me down on the bed. “Finn, listen to me. It’s very important. You’ve seen what the ring does. It wants to bring you pleasure. And it will try to do so again and again, if you let it. If you do not resist it, I’m afraid it will take more and more control of your body.”

Fuck, my balls were itching again. As well as the itching, there was an unnatural heat which seemed to shoot from the ring on my finger directly into my groin. I could feel my penis stiffening again in my jeans. “You see, it’s already starting again.” Mr Pollex’s fingers undid my jeans, slid them off my legs. My briefs were next, my fully erect dick springing up as the fabric slid down my legs.

“Get on the bed. No, on your back.” I clambered onto the small bed and lay down, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t put too much pressure on my arms. Mr Pollex took a length of rope and began to tie my ankles to the corners of the bed. My back was arched up, my groin thrust forwards, as if I was presenting my stiff dick for display. I wanted to touch my dick, soothe the heat that was pooling in my penis and balls. Even my asshole was beginning to itch. I clenched my teeth. My hands, restrained by the cuffs and the armbinder, pulled against the metal. My fingers bent and straightened over and over. I had lost control of them again. I had no doubt that if Mr Pollex hadn’t tied me up, my hands would be all over my dick. Damn, I really needed to scratch the itch inside my asshole. I sat up, tried to move my legs, but they were already tied down securely. I watched as Mr Pollex added a third rope to my restraints, tying it around my waist and to both sides of the bed frame. Finally, he tied a rope to the top of my armbinder and looped it around the head of the bed before tying it off.

Mr Pollex checked all of the knots. He tightened the ones around my left foot, and finally grunted, satisfied that I was not going to be able to touch my dick. I looked up at him standing over me. There was a hint of a bulge in his trousers. Was this turning him on? “Good night, my dear Finn. See you in the morning.” The door closed. Darkness. Mr Pollex’s footsteps receding up the stairs.

My balls and dick ached for me to touch them. No way my hands could reach my dick in this position. With my feet tied I was unable to rub myself against the mattress. Mr Pollex had thought of that, I supposed. Maybe Mr Pollex would come back and wrap his fingers around my dick if … No! The ring was trying to break me. I thought about Lunula. Running my fingers through her hair. Her arms around my neck. My hands on her waist. Grabbing her by the a— No, God damn it! Fucking ring!

I tried to think pure thoughts, while the damned ring continued to shoot pulses of fire into my groin. My dick and and balls blazed with arousal.

It was pure torture.