Chase Becomes Chaste Ch. 01

I was right about the condo being nice. Even I, with all the funds I had accumulated from offering my pricy services over the last few years, did not yet live in such a nice place. The view was especially something. When families like the Warrens get properties like this, they hold on to them for generations.

As soon as he closed the door, I dropped all the pretences.

All the warmth gone from my voice: "Take off those pants, you fucking rapist piece of shit."

Chase was taken aback. "Dude, what the f—"

And then I felt the power surge in me. I bore my thoughts into his mind. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up. And. Strip."

Surprise, shock, and confusion ran across his face as his mouth immediately snapped shut and his hands went for the waistband of his jogging pants.

He tried to cover his cock as he lower his pants but I stopped him before he could do this.

My voice in his mind once more: "Hands. On. Your. Head."

Pants fell to the floor, hands shot up to his head.

Even having told him to shut his fucking mouth, I couldn't silence the irritating whining inside his head. Panic, confusion, rage: "What is happening? Why? How? I'm gonna kill this fucker. Goddamn faggot, stay away from me!"

His indignation only strengthened me more. I walked right up to him, staring him down. I didn't have to say out loud what I wanted him to know. My voice boomed inside his head.

"Think. Of. The. Women. You. Raped."

The images came up and as they did I kneed him hard in the balls. He started to keel over but I commanded him to stay exactly as he was.

"Spread. Your. Legs. Apart."

I pulled up all those feelings of shame he buried so deep. The fear of inferiority that motivated his abusive behaviour.

I grabbed his tiny, flaccid penis and balls and pulled hard, digging my nails in at the same time.

"THIS is what you used to seduce and trick Vivian. THIS is what you used to impregnate Juanita. THIS is what you used to rape all those women. And you know deep down that THIS is the most pathetic excuse for a cock any of those women have ever seen."

This wasn't a thought I was implanting. It was his thought. His deep fear. His shame. I just made him hear it.

He was terrified. Humiliated. Panicking. No words anymore, from either his mouth or from inside his head. My voice boomed in there and he had no power of speech which could combat it. His mind was animal emotion, basic fear. No longer a "fight" response, now he wanted so badly to flee. To escape. And yet he couldn't move.

"And now, you're never going to use THIS again."

Not fear now. Concern. Worry. Words formed in his mind: "Is this guy serious?"

I didn't answer. I let go of his cock and balls and went to my bag, pleased to see that I had left red marks on him from the pulling and nail-digging.

I rummaged in my bag and I brought out Chase's new friend for life: a chastity device.

When Bryan had left, he had been wearing a chastity device. I'm sure he got it off somehow. Maybe he even took the key. But he had left behind several others. I so enjoyed my control over his orgasms, I bought him many devices to choose from. When I finally released him from one and allow him to have the orgasm he had coveted for weeks or months, I would always let him choose which device to wear next. I was a good Master like that.

I brought a classic for Chase: a CB-3000.

He knew what it was. He had fantasized many times of keeping women in chastity and fucking only their mouths, denying them all pleasure. And in researching this fantasy online, he had also seen the devices for men. Of course, at the time, he hadn't given them a second thought. Certainly, he never in a million years would have imagined that he would wear one.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit," like a broken record in his mind.

I liked this refrain, so I continued to speak verbally, allowing him to continue his train of thought in his mind without interruption. "Now, Chase. Can't you see that I'm letting you off easy? Normally rapists get locked up in prison. You're not going anywhere! I'm doing you a favour by only locking up your dick."

I made my way over and started slipping on the device.

"And can't you see what a good deed I'm doing? I'm doing a public service! I'm protecting the women of the world."

The device now in place, I finally picked up the lock.

"And, Chase," I said, looking him in the eye, feigning compassion, "You should know I'm not a monster. I'm not like you. You used those women and never gave a second thought to their pleasure, to their own orgasms. In fact, you avoid their pleasure entirely and caused only pain. But as long as you're a good boy, I'll still let you cum. Maybe even once a month, if I'm feeling generous."

Chase was flabbergasted. His face had gone white. This was hell, he was sure. His cock meant everything to him. And now "this faggot" was going to control it, rob him of his orgasms for weeks at a time. Worse yet, rob him of his erections altogether. He was going to have that tiny, flaccid penis 24/7 with no hope of his cock growing to its full size.

I beamed widely. "That's right, Chase! You've got it. No orgasms! No erections! Just the tiny little nub you deserve." I said, confirming his worst fears.

I snapped the lock in place and gave the device a hard tug to make sure it was on firmly. I probably tugged much harder than I had to, but no doubt you agree with me that Chase clearly deserves a lot of pain. I planned to be rough in everything I do to him.

The device firmly in place physically, I knew it was time to lock it there mentally.

I held up the key, dangling it in front of him on a thin, gold chain. I taunted him with it, waved it in front of his face, knowing he still couldn't move a muscle. His hands stayed firmly planted on his head despite his wanting so much to reach out and grab the key.

I slipped the gold chain around my neck. I want him to see this key every time he looks at me.

I was still going strong. My powers had never been so great before. It felt like nothing at all to keep him in place, to enter his mind. And I knew it would feel just as easy to implant thoughts. Deep thoughts.

I gave my next trick a verbal introduction: "Chase, I know you want to take that off your cock. But I'm afraid you can't do that. In fact, you have no idea how to."

I drilled that thought into him. I sensed his surprise at his sudden realization that he couldn't conceive of any way to take it off. As soon as he turned his mind toward the lock, toward the idea of removing the device, his thoughts scattered like dust in the wind. It would be completely and entirely impossible from now on for him to remove it on his own.

He knew the key had something to do with it. He eyed the key. I laughed out loud as I read his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on it, he could not conceive of how the key would work with the device, of how he could use it to free himself from chastity.

And then he came to the conclusion I wanted him to: as he looked at the key around my neck and realized that he had no idea how to use it, he also realized that I really did control his orgasms. I controlled his cock. I controlled the most important thing in his life. I had the key and I knew how to use it.

I was overjoyed.

Never had I felt such a rush of power with any of the other men I had controlled. It was clear why. As I have said, I am principled man. My other boys, they were subs. They had openly wanted control. Although I didn't always respect all their boundaries and sometimes went too far, I had always required basic consent before I started to control them. But now, this was different. I controlled this man who did not want to be controlled, who had never once been controlled before. And I knew it was the right thing to do.

This was justice.

I relaxed my hold over him. He felt it immediately and knew he was in control of his body again.

The first thing he did was take his hands from his head down to the chastity device. But when his hands got there, they stopped short. He realized he didn't know what to do with it. The thoughts of yanking at it, of trying to pull it off — they scattered away as quickly as they formed. He looked blankly at the prison around his cock for a moment, his thoughts lost.

Then rage. The realization once more that it was true: that he could not think of how to take it off.

"You sick motherfucker! I'm gonna fucking kill if you don't take this fucking thing off my cock right this second!"

He was all daggers-with-the-eyes, shoulders up, fists pumping, ready to strike me any moment.

I just laughed at him. "Now, Chase, if you kill me, who's going to take it off you?"

He eyed the key around my neck again. He understood the power I had over him. I didn't really need to use any more deep mind control if I didn't want to: the scene was set. Even if he did hit me — hell, even if he killed me, he wouldn't know what to do with the key, wouldn't be able to conceive of a way of taking off the device on his own. I almost literally had him by the balls.

I could tell he understood.

"Welcome to your new life, Chase!" I said happily.

Realizing that his aggression was as futile as his attempt to remove the device, he turned then to shame, realizing he was still stark naked in front of a stranger. Not only that, but a stranger who was happily looking at his fully exposed, permanently flaccid cock trapped in a cage.

As he had tried to do when I first made him strip, his hands now successfully rushed in front of his shame.

"Hey, you've got the right idea, Chase! But don't worry, you don't have to keep your hands there."

I rummaged through my bag once more and pulled out a bright red jockstrap.

"See, problem solved! I've thought of everything already. Just put this on and, not only will your hands be free for other things, but I won't have to look at your ridiculous excuse for a cock anymore."

Chase stayed where he was, hands where they were, stone-cold look on his face. Evidently, he wasn't yet persuaded as to how good an idea this was.

"Well, don't worry about me! If I need a laugh at some point, you have my permission to take this off and show me your tiny, caged cock."

Aggression again: "Fuck you! Fuck this! Get the fuck out my home!"

Just the set up I was hoping for.

"Actually, Chase. This is my home."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"I guess I forgot to tell you. Silly me! I was just so focused on punishing you for being a narcissistic rapist pig that I forgot about your punishment for being a thieving, cheating husband too."

Chase's eyes widened at this comment. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

"Now, don't go thinking bad thoughts about Viv. She really is every bit the saint that people make her out to be. And I guess you knew that, huh? That's how you weaselled your way into her life, made her fall in love with you. You abused her trusting nature, Chase. But even after you broke her heart, she didn't come to me for vengeance. All she asked was that I stop you from taking half her assets in the divorce."

I rummaged through my bag again and pulled out some forms, perusing them and holding them up for Chase to see as I explained the rest.

"Of course, when she made that request, she had no idea you were an abusive, rapist pig too. When I explained this to her, she was happy to agree to my terms."

I let these words hang for a moment.

"You're not going to get a dime from her. And in exchange for my services, the Warren family has generously agreed to give me a condo with a great view, along with all its contents."

Another pause. No reaction from Chase yet. He was not sure how to respond, vacillating between incredulity, a desire to lash out, and a question as to whether he should be begging for forgiveness.

A wicked smile crept across my face as I dealt the last blow: "By the way, you're included in those contents."

Rage was his choice again. "Enough! This isn't fucking happening!" His hands now moved away from covering his shame. I guess throwing up fists was more important at that moment. "Get out of here, you motherfucker! This is MY HOME!"

I noted that I didn't feel tired at all, still very powerful. But I was getting tired of his refrain. Best just to force the last step in obliterating his old life and welcoming him into his new one instead of trying to persuade him to be reasonable.

I set down the forms and picked up the jock strap once more. I walked up close again and held out the jock, totally unfazed by Chase's pugilistic stance.

I entered his mind: "Put. It. On."

Chase watched as his arms moved seemingly on their own, no longer fists and instead carefully handling the jock as his legs stepped into it.

"Come. With. Me."

Chase followed me to the bathroom. Just as I had hoped, it was extremely well-lit and there were mirrors everywhere. Narcissistic Chase no doubt spent many hours looking at himself in there.

He blushed now when he saw himself. He hadn't noticed before, but along the top of the jock were two words written in big black letters. On the back, above exposed his ass: CHASE. On the front, above the pouch that held his the now useless, caged cock: CHASTE.

How lucky I was that Chase was roughly the same size Bryan had been. I only regretted that I didn't have time to get this professionally done, having had to write the words on there myself. I made a mental note to get him other jockstraps with bigger, darker, clearer labels: CHASE / CHASTE.

I didn't particularly care if the jock had been too tight, but I didn't want it to be loose. It was, of course, a little loose in the pouch. No doubt if Chase could get hard, his cock would strain against the small pouch. But I much preferred his useless flaccid penis in a cage and revelled in the fact that Chase was a grower and not a show-er. Anyone looking at him in this state would either assume he had a tiny package or — hopefully — be able to tell that his cock locked up in a cage that made it almost permanently useless.

While all these things were great, what mattered to me most was how his ass looked. Hot damn! I certainly hit the jackpot. The jock perfectly framed his glutes. You could, as the saying goes, "bounce a quarter off that ass."

Chase may have thought earlier today that his body deserved to be ogled, and he wasn't wrong in thinking that. But I could see now that his perky ass is really the body part that stands out above the others. And now, thanks to me, it would be permanently exposed and ogled by countless numbers of people for the rest of his life.

I stood right behind him and whispered into his ear: "Get used to this look. You're never gonna wear anything but a jockstrap ever again."

I almost laughed at how quickly Chase's face went from a blushing red to a terrified, pale white.

"Follow. Me."

Now we went to Chase's bedroom.

"Go on, now. Embrace your new life. Make what I said a reality." I opened the drawers on his dressers, the doors on his closet. Into his mind, I placed another instruction: "Throw. Them. Off. The. Balcony."

I was briefly surprised at the mental resistance Chase put up against this instruction. Perhaps my telepathic powers were finally reaching their limits? I admit, I had never used them so much in such a short time before. The amount of mind control I had used on Chase since arriving at his apartment is normally something spread over days, not minutes.

But also, though my powers might have been finally reaching their limit for the day, I didn't expect how attached Chase would be to these clothes or how deep his affection for them ran.

I glanced at them again. Brand names, everywhere. Clearly, he had spent a lot of his wife's money on these garments. But it was ill-gotten money. He deserved none of them.

I was acting as a force of justice and I would not be stopped before I was finished.

I strained to issue a stronger, deeper, more powerful instruction: "DO. IT. NOW."

That did it. Like a marionette, he was set in motion, again watching himself move.

He gathered up the clothes in large piles and carried them outside, throwing them over as I had instructed. He was deeply embarrassed to be going outside in nothing but this bright red jockstrap. I hoped that all the clothes he was throwing over the edge would attract attention below and many people would turn upwards to see Chase's "new look."

As much as I enjoyed watching Chase throwing away his highly-prized wardrobe and risking some public humiliation by standing outside in nothing but his bright red jock, I needed to make sure things were finalized before my powers were exhausted. I was now starting to feel truly drained.

I headed back out the main room while Chase was throwing his old life off the balcony. I noticed then that my nose was bleeding. I picked up Chase's discarded jogging pants and used them to wipe away the blood. I took them to another window and threw them out on my own, hoping that Chase would not notice. I did not want him to see the nose bleed or its aftereffects, as I wasn't yet ready for him to discover that there were limits to my powers. Although the fact that I had the key to his chastity device guaranteed me some ongoing control over him, I still needed him to believe I could mentally force him to do absolutely anything I wanted.

I gathered up my other things and looked over the forms once more. When Chase had finished throwing all his many-loved garments over the edge of his balcony, he regained control of his body.

He felt defeated. The loss of all his tailored suits and silk boxer shorts left a sinking feeling inside him. Where he may have never loved his wife or any woman at all, he had loved his possessions.

He walked out into the main room. He looked bewildered. He was lost. He didn't know what to do. It seemed like the walls were closing in.

"This can't be happening... This can't be happening..." he muttered.

"It is happening, Chase. This isn't a nightmare. You're not going to wake up. You never deserved all those clothes. You bought them with the money you got from manipulating a good woman. You're a bad person, Chase. All you deserve is punishment."

Still, a lost look on his face. He knew he couldn't fight. He knew he was losing.

"Come. Here." I boomed in his mind.

He approached, resigned now to how his body could move without his willing it to. He looked at the forms I'd laid out.

"What are these?" he asked, starting to read them.

"Sign. Them."

Swiftly, he lifted the pen and signed everywhere that was marked with an X.

"Chase, that was the first good deed you've ever done. You just relinquished your claim to any of Vivian Warren's assets or anything belonging to the Warren family."

He scanned the pages he had just signed.

"But that alone doesn't make it a good deed. I mean, all you've done on that page is let the Warrens keep what's rightfully theirs. Your truly good deed is the donations you've just made to Vivian Warren's NGO for beaten and battered women."

He spotted that page.

"All your worldly belongings. All your money. You're giving it all to charity." I smiled wickedly.

"No! No way, man! That's not money I took from Viv! That's MY money!" He looked at me imploringly.

"And those women you raped? The ones you got fired from their jobs? Those were THEIR bodies. THEIR jobs. THEIR lives you ruined. You owe them your measly savings. And that's just for starters."

"No fucking way!" He tired to tear up the forms.

"STOP."

He froze, unable to move a muscle.

"Where's your phone, Chase?"

"On my nightstand," he replied automatically.

I found an iPhone 6 there. I was pleased with this as I'd wanted an upgrade from my 5, anyway.

I returned. "Okay, Chase. The two forms with your signatures. Hold them up for me."