Chase Becomes Chaste

Chapter 4: Dogged Determination

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

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.

Yet, in this respect, the situation was not unlike my first meeting with Chase: physically appealing on the outside, but revolting on the inside.

In the end, I don't know what caused him to change his mind on the military's policy. It was possible that I'd done what I set out to do, that I'd targeted the right thoughts and changed them all on my own. Or maybe my brother did that. But, I have my doubts about both those possibilities.

More likely his opinion on the matter changed after my brother fucked him up the ass.

It was hard to say for sure just what changed his mind. The long and short of it is that things got a little out of hand.

It started out like it was supposed to. I asked our target about the military's policies on gay men's service and his thoughts on the matter rose to the surface. Verbally, he parroted all the usual answers, evading the question best as he could. But in his mind there was nothing but unbridled, vitriolic hate for gays and lesbians.

I was singly focused on hearing his thoughts and didn't notice when my brother got up and went over to the officer. Apparently he'd been listening to the same thoughts and had his own solution to the problem.

When my brother pulled out his cock and shoved it into the officer's mouth, I clued in to the situation.

I objected, of course. We argued loudly while this 100% straight, homophobic high-ranking military officer continued to blow my brother with gusto in the middle of his office.

I couldn't stop my brother. I was furious. I was sure that this would jeopardize weeks of work and months of planning. I stormed out, leaving him there to handle it himself.

My brother called me later that day and gave me lurid details. By the time he'd left, the officer had taken a few loads down his throat and two up his ass. My brother had apparently had quite a lot of fun. The officer's uniform was left in tatters. Files were strewn across the room, having flown away wildly when I pushed everything aside so that I could fuck him on his desk. My brother said his favourite part was that a broken picture frame was lying on the floor, a photo of the officer's wife looking up at him.

My brother didn't try to erase the officer's memory. He didn't try to explain anything. He just zipped up and left.

He finished his account with the words "mission accomplished." I hung up immediately.

In the end, the policy was indeed changed and we got off scot-free. But I didn't want to risk such careless behaviour again. That, coupled with a series of other insane scenarios my brother brought about in the following months, definitely caused me to keep my distance from him. It wasn't long after that before my brother and I had a falling out and lost touch.

Still, I had to admit that I'd taken on a lot with Chase. I couldn't shirk my responsibility here; I had an obligation to fulfill. Chase had been a public menace: a cheater, a crook, and a rapist. I needed to put him in his place and that was apparently going to take a lot more time and energy than I'd originally bargained for.

I doubted I'd hear back from my brother before noon, provided that he was going to contact me at all. This left me with some time to kill. There were things I could work on at my office, but not enough for an entire day.

I drove to a nearby Starbucks to pick up a bite to eat.

The young man who took my order was adorable. "Bobby," his name-tag read.

"Okay, triple Americano and a breakfast sandwich. Will that be all, Sir?" Bobby asked.

I felt blood rushing to my cock when he added the "Sir" at the end. I pictured making him follow me to the men's room and roughly fucking his pretty little mouth while he looked up at me with those soft blue eyes.

"Sir?"

I snapped back to reality. "Oh, uh, sorry. Guess I was lost in thought. Uh, yes. That's all."

I looked into his soft blue eyes, half wondering if I should try to use my telepathy right then to make my fantasy a reality. Since taking on Chase two days ago, I hadn't gotten off once. I wasn't the one in chastity; why shouldn't I be having some fun?

But I couldn't. Not just because I wasn't sure if my powers were even available to me at that moment. I knew it would be wrong to take advantage of him. I am not my brother. I am a principled man.

But worse, I realized who those soft blue eyes reminded me of: Bryan.

I wasn't picturing Bobby slobbering all over my cock in the men's room, not really. I was picturing Bryan. I was picturing the boy who got away.

I took a seat and pulled out what used to be Chase's laptop, typing "Facebook.com" into the address bar of his browser.

Chase was still signed in. I was dismayed to discover he had tried to undo the damage I'd done to his reputation yesterday.

The picture of us together was gone. There instead was a strikingly handsome photo of Chase in a full tuxedo. I enlarged the picture and realized it was from his wedding day.

The photo looked professionally done. I wouldn't put it past a self-absorbed narcissist like Chase to have told the wedding photographer to take dozens or even hundreds of pictures of just him standing alone and looking hot on the day he was supposed to be "forever joined" to another person in holy matrimony.

Still, it brought a smile to my face to think of Chase sitting at this laptop late last night, butt-plug still uncomfortably lodged in his tight asshole, wearing nothing more than the skimpy pink jockstrap that announced to the world in big black letters that beneath that little pouch he was kept CHASTE. I hope it filled him with shame and regret when he looked back at photos like this, when he saw the man he was before and never would be again, desperately attempting to convince his internet "friends" that he still was that man.

Of course, I deleted the photo right away, but couldn't find one to replace it with. The photo of Chase snuggling up to me outdoors in his little red jockstrap yesterday was totally gone. There were a few photos of Chase without a shirt on, but even those gave him too much dignity since he was either wearing pants or he was at the beach in board shorts. He shouldn't ever be seen with that much clothing on, even in photos. As far as I was concerned, his body was now public property and should always be displayed as such.

I would have to wait until I had another picture of Chase's "new look" before putting something up.

I saw on his profile that he'd changed his "Interested in" back to "Women" and his "Relationship Status" back to "Single."

There was a status update: "LOL you got me good! don't worry guys, i didn't turn queer overnight. but whoever photoshopped that pic and hacked my account is a pro!!! LMAO"

I don't know why I didn't think to change Chase's password yesterday. It was going to take some effort to humiliate him online all over again. He'd made a quick save. I don't know if his "friends" bought it, but at very least they all now doubted the veracity of pic that was supposed to shatter Chase's reputation as an alpha-male Lothario and introduce him to the world as the chaste fuck toy of another man.

I rubbed my temples. My headache was coming back. I couldn't tell if this was caused by just the painkillers wearing off or if it was brought on by the thought of how much work I was going to have to put into keeping Chase in his place. He was proving to be a difficult project.

Nothing like Bryan.

That was the real reason I'd opened up Chase's Facebook. I didn't care enough to need to see right away what he may or may not have done to his profile. This was only a distraction from my initial goal.

I typed Bryan's full name into the search box at the top. Bryan's surname had an unusual spelling and only three results came up matching the name. The first one was him.

I could have tracked Bryan down long ago. I could have hired a team of investigators or private eyes to tell me everything about his life without me. But I let him go when he left because I knew it was over.

As a fiercely private man, I didn't have my own Facebook account. I counted my blessings that I didn't. How many other ex-boyfriends would I be casually cyber-stalking if I was logged into this thing 24/7?

Still, given that I would be managing Chase's entire online presence from now on, why shouldn't I get something out of it? What harm would it do to check up on the boy that Chase was supposed to replace?

I quickly realized why this was a bad idea. Seeing Bryan's profile picture was like getting punched in the gut.

It was not unlike the photo of Chase and me that was taken yesterday. Two men lovingly snuggling up close, a picturesque vista in the background.

Of course, there were many differences. It was a different city; I couldn't tell exactly where. The architecture suggested somewhere in Europe. Were they just tourists, or was it possible that Bryan had really moved an ocean away?

Both men in this picture were fully clothed. It had been like that with Bryan and me, too. Yes, I liked to humiliate him in public. We made no secret our perversions. But I didn't parade him around town looking like a cheap gay rent boy as I did with Chase.

They looked like a wholesome, happy gay couple with one small difference. Most people would probably miss it: both wore thin gold chains around their necks. On Bryan's, there hung a small lock. On the other man's, a key.

I should have closed the window then. But I hovered on his profile page for a moment after closing the picture.

"Married."

If the picture of the happy couple had been a punch to the gut, this was a kick in the nuts.

I closed the laptop right away. I had made a poor decision. That had been a stupid thing to do.

When I stepped outside it was raining. I didn't have an umbrella. A gloomy day to match my now-gloomy spirits.

These past two days had been an emotional roller coaster. The rage I had felt when I saw Chase's crimes. The immense happiness I had felt after that first night of punishing him. The hopefulness I had had for the days of tormenting him that had laid in store.

Then, with the diminishing of my powers, the fear that I couldn't control this situation. The fear that I'd caught a wild animal who would tear me to shreds the moment that he escaped from his cage.

And now what? Desperation? Despair?

The love I had lost would never be returned to me. Had I ever really expected that? Did I really think Bryan was going to show up at my door again one day, begging for me to take him back? Perhaps I hadn't really accepted before now that Bryan was really gone forever.

And now all I had was Chase.

Fucking arrogant, pig-headed, snarky little shit Chase.

It was pouring rain. I got drenched just walking across the parking lot to my car. I got in, soaking wet and miserable, turning on the heat immediately to try and dry myself.

I drove to my office deep in thought, mulling it all over again.

My brother. Chase. Bryan.

Justice. Lust. Loss.

I pulled out some files as soon as I got to my office. It was more busywork than anything else. I had no projects on the go right now. The files were mostly potential projects. Background information on potential targets, the requested mind control, etc.

To be honest, I didn't really care about any of them. My mind kept drifting. But I busied myself, nonetheless.

Around 4:30, my office door opened and a very tall, thin man casually sauntered in, shaking the water off his umbrella. He was stylishly dressed: tight dark jeans, white v-neck t-shirt, a sleek blazer a little too big for his fine frame.

My brother.

He had a youthful energy about him that made him seem much younger than he was. It was sometimes hard to believe that he was the older sibling.

"I know," he said allowed.

Shit. I hadn't considered that my weakened state made it such that I couldn't keep him out of my mind. I tried to order my thoughts; even without my powers, I might be able to keep him from going deep into my mind.

"You should really talk to your stylist about those grey hairs. I mean, you could pull off distinguished, maybe. But I thought you wanted the boys to call you Sir' and not Daddy.'" He flashed me a wicked smile, pleased with his playful taunts.

"You didn't have to come in, you know. I could have told you about this over the phone."

He shrugged and replied in a disinterested manner: "I was in the neighbourhood."

I doubted that was true. More likely, my brother had received my message and found the idea of me begging for his help too appealing an opportunity to pass up. I could picture him spending quite a while picking out an outfit and styling his hair so that he could saunter in looking carelessly casual and yet somehow also impeccably dressed. He wanted to look good as he gloated, basking in the moment.

I filled him in on the situation with Chase: my discovery of his misdeeds, my decision to punish him, my increasingly weakened powers.

I could tell he found the whole story quite amusing. I had my suspicions that this was precisely the kind of thing he would be happy to help with: aside from the definite appeal of tormenting an egotist like Chase, he was also delighted to see me eating crow and admitting to my limitations — admitting that I needed his help after I'd shunned him last time.

"Well, I'll see what I can do." He mused over this for a moment. "But you have to let me do my own thing. We have very different methods when it comes to breaking someone's will."

I thought it over briefly and, with a hint of reluctance, accepted.

I felt that this situation was different than my last dealing with my brother. In that situation, our target had indeed deserved to be taught a lesson, but I felt that my brother greatly overstepped his bounds in teaching him that lesson with his cock.

Chase, on the other hand... So many of his misdeeds were sexual in nature; I felt he deserved the kind of sexual humiliation I knew my brother would put him through. Chase had seduced Vivian so he could take her money. He'd raped Juanita, forced her to have an abortion, and lost her her job. And there were other crimes, ones that so far I'd only gotten hints of. Perhaps when my powers returned to their former strength I would probe Chase's mind more deeply and determine just how much he deserved his punishment. I suspected he deserved much more than I had doled out so far.

The rain had stopped by the time my brother and I headed out to my car. In fact, the clouds had parted and it was turning into a beautiful evening. The weather matched my newly invigorated mood. Though I had some reservations about letting my brother take charge of the situation, my spirits were nevertheless lifted in knowing that he would definitely help me put Chase in his place.

However, upon arrival at the condo, I felt quite foolish. I opened the door and stepped into a dream. The boxes had been unpacked. The aroma of a delicious meal was on the air. Chase was kneeling in the centre of the room, wearing a black jockstrap. He had perhaps chosen that one because of its less ostentatious colour or its thicker, opaque material, but thankfully it was still humiliating insofar as the solid black fabric made the bold white lettering of his "CHASTE" label only more eye-catching.

Chase had done exactly what I'd asked. Perhaps I had made a mountain out of a molehill; perhaps I had underestimated my control of the situation. Did I need my brother's help at all?

As it turns out, I most certainly did.

Chase was surprised to see me enter with another man. He blushed, clearly embarrassed to be seen like this by a stranger. I could tell at first he was going to make some move, perhaps to cover himself better or to get to his feet, but he seemed to change his mind and kept his position.

My brother waltzed over to him and tousled up his hair.

"Hello, puppy," he announced.

Chase was clearly confused, but didn't make a move. He was still assessing this unexpected guest, trying to decide if this stranger required a change in his behaviour.

My brother looked back to me. "Tsk-tsk. What a naughty boy you have here. You're a terrible trainer, brother." He turned back to Chase and wagged his finger at him. "Bad dog."

Chase grew pale and swallowed hard.

I furrowed my brow. "What are you talking about? He's done everything I asked. I'd say it seems as though I'm a pretty good `trainer'."

My brother laughed loudly at this. What a jackass he could be.

At least he had my best interest at heart, though.

He looked back at Chase. "Go on, boy. Speak."

Chase strained more a moment, apparently trying to keep his mouth shut. And then he blurted out: "I put sleeping pills in your dinner!"

His hands rushed to his mouth to cover it; he was shocked that he'd admitted what he'd clearly assumed would remain a safely-kept secret.

He abandoned the ruse of being an obedient boy, getting up to his feet and moving to put the table between himself and my brother, eyeing the various doors around the room and contemplating if he could somehow make a run for it and escape.

My brother was clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on, puppy. You can do better than that. Give us the whole story. Speak!"

Chase tried to bring his hands up to cover his mouth, but they froze part way and then fell back to his sides. Again, he strained to his mouth shut, when it just exploded out of him: "I thought I could trick you. I knew you couldn't read my mind this morning and I planned to drug you and escape. I planned to take your clothes and use your phone to get the building manager to open the door and let me out of this hell you've trapped me in!"

His hands then successfully made the motion they had attempted a moment ago and he covered his mouth, albeit much too late. The cat was out of the bag.

I was definitely disheartened. What had appeared to be the ideal situation mere moments ago — a delicious dinner, a clean home, and an obedient boy on his knees ready to serve — was nothing more than appearances.

I felt silly. I had almost been deceived. Chase had almost pulled the wool over my eyes as he done with so many others.

My brother mused for a moment. "Hmm, something's still not right. I just can't put my finger on it..." He tapped his finger on his pursed lips.

"Oh, I know what's wrong!" He walked up close to Chase and peered down at him. At only 5'6", Chase was nearly a foot shorter than my brother. Though my brother was thin and Chase was muscular, the difference in height must have nevertheless made my brother seem intimidating to Chase. Well, that plus the fact that Chase was standing almost completely naked and defenceless in front of a man with supernatural, telepathic powers.

"Speak, boy!" my brother ordered gleefully.

Chase once again tried to resist, struggled to keep his mouth closed. And this time, he was apparently even more surprised by what came out when his mouth opened: a dog's bark.

His hands rushed up to cover his mouth right after it came out. His eyes were wide; he was shocked at the sound he'd made.

My brother turned me. "I've got everything under control here. Why don't you go change into something more comfortable and order us some dinner while I get to know your dog a bit better?"

Still feeling both foolish and disappointed both by Chase's deception and by the matter of my own nearly falling for it, I simply nodded and followed through with my brother's suggestion. I changed into something more casual and ordered a pizza. I hear a yelp come from the main room at some point — again, oddly canine in character — but figured my brother had everything under control.

I returned to them about fifteen minutes later. My brother had worked quickly.

Chase turned his head and looked up at me pleadingly, as if imploring me to free him from his predicament.

My brother must have found my stash of toys, as he had evidently put some of them to use on Chase. I had to admit, it made a pretty picture and I felt myself getting hard at the sight of Chase in that state.

Muscular, macho, masculine Chase was down on all fours like a dog. He was wearing his black collar and the matching leash led up to my brother's hand. He had a butt plug buried in his ass again, but this one was a different than the one I'd used on him last night: instead of being flat on the outward-facing end, it had a rubber tail sticking out. This must have been the cause of the yelp I had heard. I was somewhat surprised that my brother had gotten that one in so quickly: this plug was considerably bigger than the one I'd shoved into him last night. I had planned on waiting a few days before inserting that one, letting him work his way up to it. But I wasn't going to complain about the accelerated schedule my brother had introduced.

My brother waved his arms, motioning to Chase as if he were unveiling the prize on a gameshow. "Now this is how you train a dog!"

I forced a polite laugh. I liked to see Chase degraded like this, but it wasn't my style. I hoped my brother understood that. "You know I don't want a dog, brother. I prefer my boys to be of the human variety."

He waved his hand dismissively and added, "You're so close-minded." He was one of the few people in comparison to whom my sexual tastes would indeed appear limited. I knew for a fact that my brother enjoyed having men, women, and people in between those two genders as sexual partners. And he had no trouble fucking a woman who was purring like a cat or a man who was clucking like a chicken. In fact, I assume he quite enjoyed it.

But my tastes were far less bestial.

"I hope he's still going to know he's a human being after you're done with him?"

My brother sighed loudly. "Fine, fine. Have it your way." He put his hand over his heart. "I guarantee you he'll still think he's a man by the time I'm done, scout's honour."

I corrected him: "Oh, but Chase isn't a man, remember? `Boy,' maybe, but even that implies he's got a cock between his legs and not a locked-up little worm."

Chase blushed at this comment, his feelings of desperation once again turning instead to humiliation.

My brother, on the other hand, laughed at my comment. "If that's how you feel about it, you should really just neuter your dog. You know, help control the pet population and ensure he doesn't breed."

At that, Chase went from humiliation back to desperation again. I wouldn't have thought it was possible for him to grow anymore pale than he had been previously, but he did. Somehow he blanched even more at my brother's suggestion and his eyes turned even more pleading.

My brother tugged Chase's leash and tousled his hair once more. "Wouldn't you like that, puppy? If you came to live with me, you'd have a responsible owner. I'd neuter you like I do with all my dogs."

Chase's eyes abandoned their look of desperate pleading and grew wide in shock and horror as he turned to look up at my brother. He must be doubting the reality of this situation. The way I had treated him constituted a kind of degradation he'd never expected, but it hadn't entirely surpassed his sense of feasible reality. But now, my brother placed before him possibility of actually living his life as a neutered dog-boy. It was altogether more inconceivable than the chaste fuck toy fate I'd told him to expect.

I decided to play along. Chase should realize how good he has it with me.

"Well, I guess you would be doing me a huge favour. Chase is a lot to handle." I walked up behind four-legged Chase and reached down to cup his balls as the judges in dog shows do with the dogs they are assessing. Chase jumped a bit but didn't pull away. "And if you cut these right off, I guess that would also solve the problem of how to keep the women of the world safe from him. Like you said, prevent him from breeding and all that."

My brother laughed again. "At least consider my offer. I would love a puppy like this." He stroked Chase's back. "Mmm, muscular build. Like a boxer, you know?"

I reached forward and stroked Chase's back in a similar manner. "Or a pit bull."

"He would be great for dog shows. I'm sure he'd do well in agility competitions, you know? He's obviously in great shape — he would be a natural running through those obstacle courses."

"Well, I'll definitely consider your offer, brother. It's good to know that I can always re-home Chase if he gets to be to much." Chase once again looked up at me pleadingly and I glared back. He got the message.

I heard the buzzer go and went to buzz in the pizza deliveryman.

When I started to fish some cash out of my wallet, my brother added: "Let Chase pay him."

I scanned Chase up and down, taking account of his current position. "How's he going to do that without using his hands?"

"Put it in his mouth." My brother stroked Chase more firmly. "I think we can both agree that he really needs to learn how to use his mouth."

I chuckled. "Open up, boy."

I don't know if my brother forced Chase to open his mouth or if he did it on his own. I suspected the latter. Chase could see the writing on the wall: there was no way out of this, at least for tonight. He shouldn't do anything that could make his predicament even worse.

I shoved the cash in Chase's open mouth just as I heard a knock at the door. I took the leash from my brother. "Come on, boy. Follow me."

Author's note: I would like to thank my dedicated readership for waiting patiently for nearly a month for this chapter. As always, thank you to all those who shared their feedback with me through ratings, comments, and email. Special thanks to Chris for his extensive correspondence with me back in December. As for future instalments, parts of chapters 5 and 6 have already been written, so I will endeavour to finish them and get them posted in good time.