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.