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.”