Chase Becomes Chaste Ch 04

Chapter 4: Dogged Determination

Synopsis: With his powers seemingly exhausted, our narrator recruits help to keep Chase in his place.

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I awoke with a throbbing headache. I felt hungover. The sun shining in through the room's many windows strained my eyes. As much as I just wanted to stay in bed, eventually I pulled myself up so that I could close the curtains.

That's when I noticed the bed. The sheets that had been a brilliant white last night were now mired with splotches of red. My pillow was drenched in dried blood and I could spot red in a few places on the linens that had been near my face. I held my hand up to my nose and felt plentiful dried blood beneath my nostrils.

I set about quickly changing the sheets. I didn't want to chance letting Chase see this. It was bad enough that he'd noticed my nosebleed when I sent him a mental command yesterday. I'd only fuel his insubordination if he saw all this and realized just how much overusing my mental abilities could ultimately harm me.

I used the stained sheets to wipe away the dried blood beneath my nose as best I could before tossing them in the laundry hamper. I now needed to somehow get to the bathroom to wash off the rest without Chase spotting me.

I unlocked the door and cracked it just a bit, spying out of the room as best I could. I didn't see Chase anywhere. I took my time opening the door the full way and setting off towards the bathroom. Still no sign of Chase.

Where could he be? Was it possible that he'd actually left? I realized then that I'd been extremely careless the night before. Although I had enough wherewithal about me to lock the bedroom door, all this did was guarantee that Chase wouldn't be entering my room.

But what if he'd simply left through the front door? It was foolish of me to assume that, just because he remained here the first night, he would do so again last night. That first night, he probably had no idea what really lied in store for him: at that point, he may have thought he could still talk his way out of his punishment and, in that context, sticking around likely outweighed the risk of the possible embarrassment that could ensue if he left the condo with nothing more than a towel to cover his shame.

But last night was different. I'd really run him through the ringer yesterday. He desperately wanted to escape from me now.

Yes, he would be running a big risk of further public humiliation if he'd left wearing only a towel. It would be a massive blow to what still remains of his ego if the towel were to fall off and even more people saw him in his CHASTE / CHASE jockstrap — or worse, if they saw him totally naked save for the cage around his little flaccid penis. But maybe that was a risk he was willing to take to escape the fate that lies in store for him here.

I continued making my way slowly through the condo and still didn't spot him anywhere. It was seeming more and more likely with each passing minute that Chase really had escaped. I cursed myself for being so stupid and leaving him unguarded last night.

Then I noticed the bathroom door was closed. I slowly opened it a crack and spotted him right away.

As the door creaked slightly, Chase's head shot up to find the source of the noise. He was sitting naked on the edge of the tub, his complexion pallid and his eyes framed by dark circles.

I almost felt sorry for him, seeing him in what I took to be a sad state. He looked like death warmed over. Or, more accurately, he would have looked like "death warmed over" if death had a fit, naked body and a tiny, caged cock.

He grabbed a towel as soon as he realized I was peering in at him, wrapping it around his waist swiftly. I was about to remind him that he wasn't allowed to cover up anything other than his pathetic nub, but in no time he had flung the door open and pushed past me.

I didn't follow right then. Instead, I went in and splashed cold water on my face to wash the dried blood away. I fumbled around in the medicine cabinet and finally found the painkillers I took yesterday. I tripled my dose today.

And then I noticed the things strewn all around the bathroom.

First my eyes went to the workmen's tools covering the counter: pliers, screw drivers, wrenches. Perhaps Chase had tried to break into my bedroom last night? All of my clothes had been left in there. If he could get in to the bedroom and put on some of my clothes, he'd greatly raise his chances of a successful escape without risking any public humiliation.

And then I noticed knives from the kitchen.

Jesus Christ. My blood ran cold. I envisioned a fate nearly avoided: Chase forcing his way into my bedroom with the tools and then stabbing me to death in my sleep.

And then I saw his laptop sitting on counter. It was open to a Google search page: "how to remove chastity device"

My mood did a complete 180. I went from fearing for my life to laughing uproariously in a heartbeat.

Chase must have grabbed everything he could think of to try and free his cock from its prison. I smiled gleefully at the image of what he must have looked like all last night, picking up one tool after another, bringing it towards the chastity device, and then having absolutely no idea how to proceed once it got there.

I wish I'd been there to see him struggling in vain against not only his chastity cage, but his own mind. His own thoughts would have betrayed him again and again, falling to pieces every time he turned them to the question of how he might set his manhood free.

Then a small, shiny object on the edge of the counter caught my eye: the key to his chastity device.

Sneaky bastard.

Reassuring as it was to know for sure that, even with the key, Chase could not possibly remove the device himself, I was also perturbed. Chase had somehow managed to lift the key off me in my stupor last night. I thought I had been more aware of the situation. I couldn't recall an instance where he could have grabbed it without my noticing. Was I really that out of it as I stumbled to my bedroom last night?

I picked up the key and stormed out to find Chase.

He was easy enough to locate. He was perched on a chair the movers had left near one of the large windows in the main room. He stared out blankly at the vista, looking utterly forlorn.

I dangled the key inches from his face. He snapped back to reality. A deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression quickly formed on his face.

I peered down at him. My voice was ice cold: "Chase. I am VERY disappointed in you."

"Look... If you think I stole your key, I didn't, okay? I just found it on the floor in here after you went to bed last night."

I tried to peer into his mind and find out if this was the truth or another of Chase's trademark deceptions. Normally, this would be a simple and easy thing for me to do. But the second I tried to tune into his thoughts, I just felt pain rising up in my head again. Was it possible I'd totally exhausted my powers?

This was something to figure out later. I remained stone-faced, unwilling to let Chase know that I couldn't read his mind. I didn't move an inch, just continued to peer down at him. He could tell I didn't believe him.

"Shit lot of good it did me, anyway..." He pouted like a spoiled child briefly, but this expression quickly morphed into an indignant sneer more befitting of an teenage punk. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"Exactly what you deserved to have done to you."

"Oh, fuck you and your fucking riddles. How the fuck is this even possible?! I know how a motherfucking lock works... I just... I just can't seem to... Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ! This can't be happening! I can't even unlock my own goddamn door!"

I tried again to remain stone-faced, not wanting to let my surprise show. A realization dawned on me. I must have gone much deeper into Chase's mind than I'd originally realized when I'd made the mental changes to stop him from being able to remove his chastity device. It wasn't a specific thing I'd erased from his mind; it wasn't the specific act of unlocking the thing that kept his cock trapped. It was every lock. He had no idea how to unlock the door.

I wondered how long he'd known this. It occurred to me that I hadn't locked the door behind me that first night and I was thankful Chase hadn't attempted an escape then. I made a mental note to make sure that door stayed locked from now on.

I was starting to feel that I was in control once more. I'd really outdone myself that first night. I had no idea I' d gone so deep, but I was pleased to discovered that I had.

Chase had evidently expected some reply from me while I was thinking through what he'd said. His sneer turned even more indignant. "Why the fuck are you doing this me?! Just who the fuck do you think you are?!"

I gave him a wicked smile. Cryptic answers were all that he was going to get today. "Isn't it obvious, Chase? I'm your Master."

He groaned and tried to push past me. I stopped him, pushing him back down on the chair. This was made easier by the fact that one of his hands was occupied with ensuring his towel stayed wrapped around his waist. Somehow, despite the fact that I'd seen him naked and humiliated many times now, he still thought he could rescue his dignity with a towel covering him today.

"Stay sitting. I want to tell you something."

He snapped back immediately: "Why don't you just make me?"

I grimaced.

"You have a pretty shitty pokerface, dude." This time he successfully pushed past me and headed off to the kitchen.

Shit. He was on to me. This boy might not be as dumb as I first thought.

But I still had the upper hand.

I joined Chase in the kitchen. He was making breakfast, apparently just for one. And something told me I wasn't the one he was making it for.

I decided not to push my luck. I would get something for myself later.

The morning was not going as I'd hoped. Even now, I had to content myself with only being able to watch a half-naked Chase as he worked instead of a more fully exposed version. My eyes rested on his ass, but it just wasn't the same with the towel covering it. Why can't he just accept the rules? His ass should always be on display for me.

Judging by his apparent ease of movement — he wasn't acting like he had something shoved up his ass — I suspected the toy I'd inserted last night wasn't plugging up his hole anymore. I wonder how long he actually left it in for? I'd have to think of some way to ensure the one I shove up there tonight stays in until morning. That's the rule, after all. And rules are made to be followed.

"I'm going to work today, Chase," I announced.

He didn't look up from the toast he was buttering. It occurred to me that Chase had no idea what my actual profession was. I decided not to elucidate the matter for him. He could figure it out for himself. He had met me as a "casting director" two days ago. For all he knew, maybe I really was a casting director and that was my primary source of income. He knew I performed some other services — after all, I told him Vivian had come to me to enlist my help — but likely he had no idea what my day-to-day life actually consisted of. Likewise, he probably had not yet realized that I was very wealthy and he was now a total pauper.

"I want you to do some things while I'm out. First, get yourself some sleep. You look like shit."

He finally looked up from what he was doing so he could glare at me. Even with the dark circles under his eyes, in reality Chase still looked like a million bucks. In his previous life, anyone who told him he "looked like shit" most likely would have received less of a glare and more of a punch in the face. Though he was starting to doubt the extent of my powers, he still held himself in check: an act of violence would probably be pushing his luck. I might be weakened, but still not totally defenceless.

"Second, pick out another jockstrap to wear. You should keep yourself looking nice for me." I swiftly came up behind him and gave him a firm smack on the ass with that comment. He immediately swatted my hand away and glared again, but didn't comment.

I was tempted once again to try and use my powers. Indignant little shit, swatting my hand away like that. I badly wanted to make him drop the towel and bend right over the counter so I could spank the living daylights out of his rear, but once again I simply felt my headache returning.

"Third, clean up that mess you left all over the bathroom. Fourth, start unpacking the boxes in the living room. This is my home now and I want it to start looking that way."

He somehow managed to push by me with one hand securing his towel and the other holding his breakfast, heading out to the table. "I'm not your goddamn butler," he muttered.

He took a seat at the table. That impudent little punk.

"Chase, I told you yesterday that 'the help' doesn't get to eat at the table."

He raised his arms in frustration. "And I just told you, I'm not your goddamn butler!"

I walked up right next to him and peered down. "I don't think you're my butler, Chase. After all, a butler has to be a man." I let that sink in for a minute, his thoughts no doubt returning to the cage that kept his dick in its permanently flaccid state. "What I do think, however, is that you're my house boy."

He scowled at this, but wasn't going to fight me now. He turned back to his food and started to eat.

Without my the use of my powers, I decided I had to use the tactics of persuasion everyone else had to use every day. I decided to bargain.

I took off my necklace and dangled the key in front of him again. "The reason you're going to do all those things today is that, if you do, I'll take that cage off your little buddy."

He perked up at this. Could it be true? Did he dare believe me?

Of course, I was stretching the truth. I left out some qualifying terms: if he did these things, I'd take that cage off — but at some undefined point in the future. Certainly not tonight.

I made a mental note to look into how long a chastity device could be left on without causing permanent damage. My other boys came with some experience and prior chastity training. How many weeks could I leave Chase's cock in its cage when he normally got off at least once every day?

I wished badly that I could peer into his mind and find out just how horny he was getting. Alas, no such luck. His thoughts were a mystery to me today.

Chase didn't say anything in reply to my offer. Maybe he knew I was toying with him. He continued munching away on his meal. I don't know if I'd convinced him or not. But I did know I was sick of dealing with him. I left the table and gathered up what I needed.

I picked out a nice, fitted suit to wear today and set about gathering things up, taking care to lock the bedroom door and ensure that Chase wouldn't be able to get anything to wear.

Eventually, Chase glanced up at me as I packing my bag. I sprung my line on him, motioning to my dapper outfit for the day: "Clothes really make the man, huh?" I laughed at my own joke, but half-naked Chase clearly didn't find it funny.

The last thing I collected was Chase's — correction, "my" laptop. It had almost slipped my mind that Chase didn't own a single thing anymore. This was my laptop now and Chase shouldn't be using it without my permission.

I noticed that Chase had flopped onto the couch and was watching TV. This didn't bode well for the day. I would probably be unpacking those boxes on my own and making dinner for myself tonight.

"I'll be back at 6:00. Have dinner ready." Chase didn't look away from the TV.

I performed blowing him a kiss quite theatrically, adding "See you tonight, honey." I'm sure he knew what I was doing, but he kept his eyes locked on the TV, tuning me out as much as he could.

I didn't go right to work. In truth, I didn't have to. Although prospective clients sometimes dropped by unannounced, most of my dealings were planned well in advance. So far, I had nothing scheduled for today.

With some hesitation, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contact list. I had to find a number I called very rarely: my brother's.

I mentioned previously that there are many people with telepathic powers. The vast majority of them have very weak ones and don't even know that they have them. They go through life with an advantage they never quite understand and powers of persuasion they chalk up to rhetoric instead of mind control.

However, there are also others who have powers like mine.

In fact, there are those with powers greater than mine. My brother was one such person.

Do not misunderstand the differences in our abilities. My brother cannot control my mind. My mental abilities are definitely well-developed ones; I could almost always prevent him from entering my mind. He was not necessarily stronger than me, but simply more naturally talented.

What set him apart from me was the ease with which he controlled unsuspecting minds.

With me, the use of telepathy always required considerable focus and concentration. With him, it was like a simple biological function, like breathing. He moved in and out of minds like the rest of us move between rooms.

Still, there were other things that set him apart from me, too. One of those things was morality — or, more accurately, the lack thereof.

Indeed, that was why it had been years since I'd spoken to my brother. He'd done things that disgusted me. He abused his powers, treated people like puppets.

I dialled his number and got his voicemail. This was not surprising. It was still early in morning and, if my brother's habits were the same as they were last time we'd spoken, I doubted that he'd be getting out of bed before noon. Another thing that set us apart: where I led my life in a businesslike way, he led his like a rockstar.

My message was simple: "It's me. I need your help with something. Get back to me today."

I had recruited my brother's help once before. It was at a time when I had taken on a huge mind control project. I'd been hired to change a very high-ranking officer's mind on the issue of gay men serving in the military.

Accomplishing a major policy change didn't just require changing this one man's mind, though. I had to work my way up the ranks, entering the minds of dozens of soldiers and bureaucratic underlings over several weeks before I had changed enough of them that they would let me waltz right into my target's office and "present my proposal" to him.

During the weeks I slowly put that plan into motion, I had headaches like I'd never had before. Nosebleeds, too — though nothing as bad as the ones I've gotten since I'd started controlling Chase.

As the headaches and nosebleeds got worse, I'd considered just dropping the project altogether. But I was committed to it. I was doing it not simply because a client had hired me to do it, but more so because I personally wanted this policy change to happen.

Realizing that I was out of my depth, I'd enlisted my brother's help.

I should have been more suspicious when he readily agreed. But, in much the same way that he can't easily enter my mind, I likewise cannot enter his. His motives will always be a mystery to me.

We worked well together for the week leading up to our meeting with the high-ranking officer. My brother was charming, easily mixing flattery and charisma with telepathic control to persuade a series of secretaries and other officers to let us get close to our target.

But his deviant ways came out when the meeting finally arrived.

For an ageing man, our target was surprisingly handsome. A real man's man: broad shoulders, square jaw, deep voice. As I've said previously, my "type" tends to be young, fit sub boys. But I'm not blind, either: a handsome man is a handsome man.