Chase becomes Chaste II (Gay Themes)
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The movers arrived bright and early. I had just awoken from a pleasant sleep, dreaming all night of how I could punish Chase next. I felt refreshed and empowered once more. It was that same sense of certainty that gave me so much strength: I knew that everything Chase had done in his “old life” was wrong and I knew it was up to me to punish him every day for the rest of his “new life.”
The man in charge of the moving crew gave me a firm handshake and introduced himself as “Garcia.” He was a handsome, middle-aged man. Something nice to wake up to: an olive complexion, a strong jaw line accentuated by a tight beard, and overall rugged good-looks. Not my usual type, but a looker nonetheless.
I explained to him that only a few pieces of furniture needed to be taken over as I was assuming possession of an already-furnished property. I had done some preliminary packing last night and there were a few boxes ready to go. I motioned to my many book shelves and instructed the movers to box up their contents and bring them all over today.
I gave Garcia my cell number and the address of the condo before heading off, adding that, if I wasn’t there when they arrived, Chase would be “happy” to let them in.
I set out then on what I had planned for the morning. First of all, I swung by the office of Vivian Warren’s NGO for beaten and battered women. I hadn’t planned on staying long, but I got held up. The receptionist — a sweet, young, pretty girl — seemed clueless as to what she should do with the forms I handed her. She studied them a couple of times and looked back up at me.
“Sorry… This is, uh, my first day here.”
That’s when I noticed the name-tag she was wearing: “Juanita.”
I guess I wasn’t the only one who was setting things right. The maid that Chase had raped, impregnated, and forced to have an abortion. The maid that he had tricked his soon-to-be ex-wife into firing. This was her, gainfully employed by Mrs. Warren once more.
No doubt Vivian Warren would be taking good care of Juanita from now on. Though she was only a receptionist now, I suspected that Vivian would perhaps be groom Juanita for advancement. She certainly deserved it.
I explained that Mrs. Warren would be expecting these forms and that she would know what to do with them. These were the papers that guaranteed Chase would get nothing from her in the divorce.
“Oh!” Juanita’s eyes lit up and she gave me a beatific smile. “Ms. Warren’s divorce papers?! I will give her these right away!” She dashed off down the hall toward what must be Vivian’s office.
They were, of course, more than just divorce papers. Included in the dossier I gave Juanita were also the documents that would leave Chase utterly bankrupt and give me full possession of the condo he had so unjustly tried to steal away from the Warren family. I hoped Vivian’s lawyers would make quick work of the contracts and agreements Chase had “so graciously” signed and that, maybe even by the end of the day, he would officially lose all legal claim to even a single penny.
My business with Vivian Warren was finished now that she had the forms that would finalize everything we’d arranged. I didn’t wait for Juanita to come back, certain that nothing would stop her from getting the divorce forms to Vivian. Maybe one day, when the right moment presents itself, I’ll introduce Juanita to the “new” Chase. She should know that his punishment was far more than a simple divorce from his wife; it was a divorce from his worldly possessions, his freedom, and his very manhood itself.
I headed out right after Juanita ran off. I had a lot to do.
My next stop was the Salvation Army, where I dropped off four big bags full of Chase’s old clothes. After Chase had thrown his old wardrobe off the balcony last night, I collected the pieces I could still find down on the street. In retrospect, it was thoughtless of me not to consider that there were so many people in need who deserved Chase’s wardrobe so much more than he did. I hoped that someone else would find the articles of clothing I’d missed and get some use out of them.
After Salvation Army, I drove over to The Market de Sade, a local sex shop specializing in BDSM paraphernalia.
I recognized the man behind the counter, surprised to see that he was still working here. Perhaps he was the owner? When Bryan was still around, we had been frequent and loyal customers here. But this was the first time I’d visited in years.
Either way, I was sure that I had seen this guy in here many times before. He was hard to forget. His physical form alone was noteworthy, as I’d guess he was at least 6’4″ with a solid linebacker build. But what made him especially memorable were things like the massive septum piercing between his nostrils, the shaved noggin, the myriad of tattoos on his neck, and the full sleeve of tattoos covering both arms. To top this off, he was wearing a tight leather vest and matching leather pants. Though I couldn’t see him being much over 30, he nonetheless called the term “leather daddy” to mind. This was someone who definitely “lived the lifestyle.”
He gave me a nod and asked if I needed any help in a gruff but friendly voice. I thanked him, but said I already knew what I was looking for.
I took my time perusing their selection, imagining for a while how Chase would look with one of those massive, comically oversized dildos fully inserted up his ass.
Alas, I had to be reasonable for now. Given that Chase had been a totally straight, alpha-type, domineering man in his old life, I had to assume even the women he’d had sex with hadn’t played with his ass at all. He likely has a totally virgin asshole. I opted to start him off with something small. As I’ve said, I’m a patient man. I can wait.
Still, I’d never seen anyone take one of those absurdly oversized sex toys in person and I made up my mind right then and there that eventually I’d see one fully disappear into Chase’s ass, come hell or high water.
I browsed a bit more, choosing a few more items along the way. I took a handful of things to the register. The “young leather daddy” behind the counter gave me a coy smile while looking them over.
“Are these a gift for someone special?” he playfully inquired.
This struck me as an intrusive question and I gave him only a curt response: “Yes.”
“Good, good… You know, I’m glad to see you’ve found yourself a new boy,” he added as he scanned some bar codes.
I gave him a quizzical look, unsure how he would know this. I got no sense of telepathic powers from him. If he wasn’t reading my mind, what in particular tipped him off to my having a “new boy”?
He continued, “You probably don’t know this, but a lot of the staff around here were envious of the relationship you had with your last boy. Most of them could only dream of having that kind of relationship that balanced serious kink and mutual love so well. It was sad for all of us when we heard through the grapevine you two had broken up… You guys had a lot of ‘fans’ in the community.”
I guess it made sense, what he concluded. Bryan and I had expressed our kinkiness quite publicly. He never called me anything other than “Sir” or “Master,” no matter where we were or who was around. And I suppose when we visited The Market de Sade, we weren’t exactly discreet. In fact, I’d usually make my comments as loudly as possible, embarrassing and humiliating Bryan by making sure everyone knew he’d be taking huge new dildos up his ass and hard new paddles on his ass as soon we left the store.
If this guy knew from that I was a Dom, and here I was purchasing paddles, dildos, and butt plugs once more, then it must mean I have a “new boy.”
But I only gave him a weak smile. His comment brought up mixed feelings in me. Yes, this was a “new boy,” but I regretted that this wasn’t love. I might never again have “that kind of relationship that balanced serious kink and mutual love so well.”
I chose not to dwell on it and changed the subject. There were a few items I needed that they didn’t have on the shelves, so I placed an order for them. I also made requests to have a few of my purchases personalized, a service they could provide on-site. I gathered up the rest of my things, left my number, and thanked my “fan” for his help.
My errands for the morning now finished, I drove over to “my new condo.” It was about 12:15 and I hadn’t gotten a call yet from the movers. Although this could mean that they just weren’t there yet, I was hopeful that they were on schedule. If they were, this meant that Chase had let them in and was no doubt suffering through the first of many humiliations he would experience in front of other men.
Things were looking good when I parked out front. The moving van was outside the building. I passed by the movers on their way out as I was heading in. They told me quickly what they’d already taken up and what was still in the van. But that was it.
“Strange,” I thought to myself. I was sure they would have said something about the “exhibitionist fag” who must have let them in upstairs.
When I entered the condo, I understood why they hadn’t commented on Chase’s state of undress.
I was pissed when I saw what Chase had done to avoid his humiliation. It was, I admit, some quick-thinking on his part. Chase’s hair was wet and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. No doubt he’d told the movers he’d just gotten out of the shower when they arrived. Although maybe they found it a little strange that he was still only wearing a towel 20 minutes after getting out of the shower, they hadn’t yet questioned it.
Chase blanched when he saw me. He could tell immediately I wasn’t pleased. If he had hoped I was going to go easier on him today, he was very, very wrong.
“LOSE. THE. TOWEL.” My voice boomed in his mind.
While his face contorted into a pleading and shameful expression, his arms moved swiftly on their own and the towel fell to the floor in an instant.
Now dressed as he deserved to be, I was pleasantly reminded once more of the ultimate punishment I would make him endure for the rest of his days. Written in big, bold letters, the bright red jockstrap announced: “CHASTE.”
The words entered Chase’s mind and he reluctantly followed me in. I shut the door behind us. As much as I wanted the movers to see Chase in his humiliating state of undress as soon as possible, some discretion was required. I didn’t want the whole world knowing about my mind control abilities and didn’t want to waste any of my limited energy on erasing the movers’ memories of anything I might do or say.
“I’m disappointed in you, Chase.”
He looked down at his feet, holding his head in shame, not even trying to meet my gaze.
“Well, go on then. Explain yourself to me. Why did you think you could cover yourself with a towel when I’d made it so clear to you yesterday that you deserve to have your body and your naked ass put on display in front of everyone for the rest of your life?”
“I… well… I didn’t want those guys to see me like… this.” He motioned to his CHASTE / CHASE bright red jockstrap. “I thought maybe we could talk this over?” He looked at me imploringly, puppy dog eyes and all. “Look… I’m… I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for cheating on Viv. I’m sorry for tricking her into marriage just so I could steal from her. And I’m sorry for what I did to all those other women.”
I did not yet react. I waited for him to finish.
“Please, just… Just let me have my life back… Please. I’ve… I’ve really learned my lesson.” He flashed me those sad, pleading puppy dog eyes again.
I pretended like I was seriously considering Chase’s words for a minute, but I couldn’t hold back for long. My face cracked and my contemplative expression gave way to an uproarious burst of laughter.
“Chase, I knew you were a narcissist, a cheater, a thief, a misogynist, and a rapist pig. But I only just realized you’re a moron too!”
The puppy dog eyes were gone. A sheepish look crept across his face: he’d been found out.
“Maybe you could use your good looks and those adorable puppy dog eyes to charm and trick Vivian, but you’re forgetting that, unlike her, I can fucking read your mind!”
While Chase had been claiming to be sorry, his thoughts told an entirely different story. In reality, he still felt absolutely no guilt or remorse over any of the things he’d done. Images of giving Vivian a brutal punishment-fuck after his release from chastity kept rising up in his mind. He wanted revenge for “what she’d done to him.”
He didn’t feel like he deserved to be punished for anything. And he hated me for doing this to him, finding no hint of justice in how I was treating him. He hated me with a fiery passion. Images of violence towards me came up again and again during his false repentance. Right when he had been speaking the words “I’ve learned my lesson” out loud, in his mind he had been vividly picturing the moment where I’d removed his chastity device and he’d promptly knock all my teeth out.
“I can tell it’s going to take you a while to get used to your new life. But that’s okay, Chase. I’m going to be here for a long time to make sure you adjust.”
He blanched again. The full implications of his predicament flashed before his eyes once more. He understood that any hopes he had had of somehow escaping his torment today were egregiously shortsighted.
“Now, I obviously can’t punish you for everything you’ve done wrong all at once. That’s going to take the rest of your life. But right now, I have to punish you for disobeying me.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Bend over my knee.”
He didn’t move one bit. He gave me an incredulous and skeptical look, wondering if I was serious.
“Chase. You know I can force you to do this. But it would make me happier if you just did as I asked. And you want me to be happy, don’t you? I’m much easier to live with when I’m happy.”
He considered this for a moment and then swallowed hard. I could tell he had implicitly accepted my terms when he bent over my knee of his own free will, hoping to appease me in some way and lessen his sentence.
His “choice” to bend over my knee really turned me — much more than simply forcing him would have done. It was more degrading for him to appear to consent to this than it would be for him to be plainly forced into it. I hoped that Chase could feel my half-hard cock pressing against his abs. But, even if not, it was only a matter of time before he and my cock would become intimately acquainted.
I started to caress his exposed ass. He flinched when I touched it, but didn’t try to get up or get away. “Do you know why you’re bent over my knee, Chase?”
A moment passed. I knew he didn’t want to say it out loud, as if not saying it would somehow prevent it from occurring. But he gave in. He wanted to “keep me happy,” after all.
“You’re going to spank me.”
“Very good, Chase! Maybe you’re not as dumb as I thought.” I continued to caress and grope his perky bottom. “I’m going to spank you like a bad little boy… Because that’s what bad boys deserve.”
With that, I gave his ass a swift, hard, firm slap. I didn’t take my time with this. I didn’t let him get used to it. I tightened my grip on him with my other arm and gave his rear end at least a dozen violent smacks in quick succession. He hollered and flinched and squirmed each time I hit him.
Eventually, he weasels his way out of my hold. He ran to the other end of the room, hands attempting to shield his stinging, red bottom.
I was disappointed to see he wasn’t full-out crying. He only had wet eyes. Still, there would be plenty of other opportunities to reduce him to a sobbing mess, so I didn’t mind too much right now.
There was a knock at the door.
“Hey, you guys okay in there? What was that sound?” I recognized the voice as Garcia, the easy-on-the-eyes mover I had dealt with that morning.
I looked over at Chase. “Aren’t you going to let him in?”
It seemed that the stinging pain coming from his ass made him forget again who was in charge here and he replied with an indignant “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“I don’t know, Chase. Why don’t you pick a reason? Maybe it’s because you want to keep me happy so that I don’t punish you again. Maybe it’s because I have a supernatural, godlike power to force you to do anything I want. Or maybe it’s because I’m the only one who can take that little cage off your little cock,” I said, pulling the key out from under my shirt to make my point.
He sneered at me, but reluctantly gave in to my request. He opened the door, blushing the same shade of red as his well-spanked ass.
“Oh!” Garcia’s eyes went wide. He was clearly surprised to be greeted by Chase in nothing but a skimpy, bright red jockstrap.
He looked from Chase to me and back a couple of times. “I, uh… Geez, sorry. I, uh… I didn’t realize you two were a couple…”
Chase started, “We are NOT a — ” but I cut in.
“Chase, honey. It’s okay. Everyone is gonna figure out we’re a couple now that we’re living together.” I got up from the bed and came up behind Chase, placing my hand lovingly on his shoulder. “You’ve got to stop pretending we aren’t lovers every time we meet someone new.”
Chase was shooting me daggers with his eyes, but didn’t say anything. He continued to blush red, but he had given in to the situation for the time being. I was in charge and he’d have to endure it for now.
“Listen, guys…” Garcia began, “It’s okay… I have lots of gay friends… And this isn’t the first time I’ve stumbled upon a couple ‘christening’ their new place.”
I gave Garcia’s mind a cursory reading and saw a bit more than he said. He really had lots of gay friends, just as he claimed, but he left out the detail that he himself was bisexual and often messed around with those guys — though he would never in a million years admit to this publicly. I could tell that, although he did find it a bit awkward to have walked in on us “christening” our new place, he also found this scenario vaguely arousing and he was fully enjoying the view of Chase’s naked flesh on display.
I smiled politely, feigned embarrassment. “Thanks for understanding… You know, it’s just that we’re so happy to be making this huge step in our relationship by moving in together, we can’t keep our hands off each other today.”
Chase still said nothing, but Garcia probably just assumed he was embarrassed either about being apparently “caught in the act” or supposedly “found out as gay.”
I had an idea. I wouldn’t have proposed this if I didn’t know for sure that Garcia would be into it. But I assumed that, since he enjoyed ogling nearly naked Chase so much, he would readily agree to my request.
“Hey, Garcia” I reached into my pocket and pulled out “my” new iPhone 6. “Would you mind taking a photo of us? Chase wants one of the two of us together in our new place to show to his friends.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem,” he took the phone, but then glanced at Chase again. “But, uh, wouldn’t you like to get dressed first?”
My voice boomed in Chase’s head: “Tell. Him. No.”
Immediately, the words burst out of Chase’s mouth: “No.”
I added to it, “Oh, Chase here is quite the exhibitionist, as you might have guessed from him letting you into the condo when he was only wearing a towel earlier and now greeting you at our bedroom door showing even more skin!”
Chase blushed, but didn’t try to contradict me. He knew he’d lost his first battle of the day, although I suspected his impudent attitude would return in due time.
Garcia smiled and added, “Hey, with a tight little body like that, I’d be an exhibitionist too!” The two of us laughed while Chase turned a deeper shade of red.
“So, where are we taking this picture?” Garcia asked.
“Oh, you know, this place has such an amazing view, I was thinking we’d get a shot out on the balcony.”
I started heading that way and Garcia followed. Chase, of course, remained squarely where he was. He obviously had no intention of going outside in just his jock again.
Too bad he didn’t have a choice! “OUTSIDE. NOW.”
At my command, Chase swiftly ran out onto the balcony before either me or Garcia got out there. I noticed Garcia’s eyes resting on Chase’s ass as he passed by us. He didn’t make any comments about Chase’s beet red bottom — or, more accurately, “beaten red” bottom — but I was pleased that he’d seen it nonetheless.
I threw my arm around Chase’s shoulders when I got outside and pulled him close.
“POSE. NICELY.” I mentally commanded.
Chase’s body relaxed and he snuggled in close to me. He flashed his pearly white teeth and winning smile at Garcia.
“Okay, there. Just hold that pose.” A couple of flashes went off. “Great. Looks like I got a few good shots.” He passed the phone back to me.
Chase, interpreting this as the successful completion of my command, immediately withdrew from my side, slinking closer to the door back inside but not going through it.
Garcia was blocking his way. He gave Chase another slow look up and down. “You know, you sure are photogenic, Chaste.”
“Uh… thanks,” Chase replied, clearly uncomfortable. “But, uh, my name’s ‘Chase,’ not ‘Chaste’.”
A puzzled expression made its way across Garcia’s face. “Oh, really? Sorry for the mistake, but I was just going by what you have written on the front of your jock.”
Chase blushed again, but didn’t say anything. I took this as my cue to humiliate Chase even further: “It says ‘CHASTE’ because he’s kept in chastity.”
The puzzled look was still on Garcia’s face. “What does that mean?”
I issued Chase a mental command: “Show. Him.”
Chase held his head in shame as his hands swiftly moved on their own and pulled down the front of his jock.
“Oh!” Garcia exclaimed, clueing in the full implications of what “kept in chastity” meant. “That’s, uh… Hmm. Well, yeah… Okay… Thanks for showing me, I guess?”
Chase took this brief exposure of his locked-up cock to have satisfied my command and quickly pulled his jock back in place.
Although Garcia clearly found this strange and said just as much in his fumbling response, I couldn’t help but notice the obvious erection forming in his pants as soon as he saw Chase’s caged nub. Strange though it may be, I didn’t have to read Garcia’s mind to know that he secretly must have also found it incredibly hot.
“I, uh, anyway… I should get back to helping the other guys out. There are probably a few more boxes that need to come up.” With that, he handed the phone back to me and headed off.
I pulled up the pic Garcia had just taken. “Don’t we make a cute couple, Chase?”
“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered. “You know I’m not a goddamn fag.”
I scanned him up and down. “You could have fooled me,” I replied with a wink.
I spent a few minutes opening the apps on “my” new phone. I was pleased to find Chase was still signed in to his Facebook and Instagram. Just as I’d hoped, narcissist Chase had hundreds of Facebook “friends” and even more followers on Instagram.
“Can I go in now?” Chase was shifting his weight back and forth, squirming uncomfortably. I could tell he desperately wanted to go back inside before anyone in the neighbouring buildings spied him and his spanked-red bottom out here, but he was finally learning that he needed to wait for my permission before acting, lest he accidentally anger me again.
I didn’t even look up from the phone. “When I’m done.” I continued tapping away.
He continued to squirm. “Well, how long is this gonna take? What are you doing with my phone?”
“It’s my phone, Chase. Remember?”
I didn’t look up, but I could tell Chase was sneering at me. Finally, he gave in: “Okay, fine. Fuck it, whatever… What are you doing with ‘your’ phone?”
“Just choosing the right Instagram filter…”
It took him a second to figure out what this meant. “Wait, what?!” I looked up and caught the priceless expression of total shock and disbelief on his face. “No fucking way! You can’t post that picture online!”
“Well, it’s a little late to protest that, Chase. The first thing I did was make it your Facebook profile pic.”
His face went white.
I turned the phone so Chase could see what I was working on. “I think this filter makes our pic look the best. These colours really make the outline of your chastity cage stand out against the fabric of your jock, wouldn’t you say?”
He immediately tried to snatch the phone away from me.
He stopped in mid action, hands frozen in their vain attempt to grab the phone. Where before I’d issued instructions to keep him in certain poses, this was a full body command. Nothing but his eyes moved.
I kept him like that as I finished what I needed to do on “my” phone. After successfully uploading our pic for his hundreds of followers to see on Instagram, I went back to his Facebook. It was blowing up with comments:
“LMAO is this for some gay tv show?”
“OMG! Chase! No way!”
“dude. what da fuck is this. did you turn queer or something”
I decided to fan the flames. I changed his profile information so that he was listed as “Interested in Men” and “In a relationship.” I chose not to reply to the comments. I’d let his “friends” have their fun hounding him about this.
I closed those apps and moved on to something more important for Chase’s new life to really begin: I installed Grindr. I quickly made him a profile, using the pic we’d just taken but cropping myself out of it. Chase looked preeminently fuckable with that killer smile, that great body on full display, and nothing but that little jockstrap to cover his little secret.
I filled out his profile quickly:
Name: CHASTE CHASE
About Me: i was a bad boy and now my cock is locked up… can i play with urs instead? 😉
I figured that was enough damage to Chase’s online persona for today and I headed back inside, hiding the phone in “my” bedroom where I knew Chase wouldn’t find it. I took my time inside and checked on the movers’ progress, casually chatting with them and directing them as they worked.
I made Chase wait outside, frozen in that position, because I wanted him to really think about what kind of power I had over him. To be honest, though, I was nearing my limits again. That strength I’d felt first thing in the morning was fading fast. I excused myself from supervising the movers and headed the bathroom. Just as I walked in, a little blood trickled down from my nose.
I needed to use my abilities wisely for the rest of the day since I couldn’t tell how many more strong commands I honestly had in me. It had only happened a couple of times before, but if I tried to engage my mind control abilities beyond the power I actually had, then I would almost certainly pass out. This was something I could never risk doing in front of Chase.
Still, I wasn’t afraid of anything like that happening yet. This nosebleed barely lasted a minute and all evidence of it was removed with the quick application of a Kleenex.
I headed back outside 20 minutes later to see Chase still in exactly the same pose. I sauntered right up to him and embraced him, groping his bare ass and kissing his half-open mouth. I didn’t bother to read his mind because I already knew what he’d be thinking. I much preferred this peaceful moment of touching, caressing, and kissing him without interruption.
Eventually, I backed off. “Okay, I think you’ve learned your lesson.” Into his mind: “Move. Again.”
Nothing. He was still in the same position. I guess I was pushing it. I focused harder. “MOVE. AGAIN.”
His body relaxed. He spat profusely, evidently revolted by my kissing him.
I winked at him. “Next time I’ll put in a breath mint first.”
He didn’t reply. I was sure that being frozen like that had really shaken him. I hoped that he now believed my power was limitless.
I pulled out my wallet and counted some cash. “The movers should be finishing up just about now. Go pay them.”
He stared at the money in my hand for a moment, considering what humiliation lay in store if he did this. He was weighing his options. What would another act of disobedience get him? In reality, I really don’t think I could have mentally forced him to do anything again right then. My powers were spent for the time being. But thankfully, he didn’t suspect that at all. Dejected, he took the money and, head held low in shame, made his way out to the main room.
I waited a moment and followed after he was out of sight. I stayed at the bedroom door and watched.
It might have taken a while, but Chase finally got exactly the humiliating exposure in front of all those strong working men that I’d hoped for earlier that day.
A couple of them laughed out loud when they saw him like that. Those two were standing slightly to the side of him and they could spy his spanked-red bottom. But most of the men just looked at this “scantily clad queer” in confusion, unsure as to why he was exposing himself to them like this. Garcia was the only one who approached him.
Still staring at his feet, too ashamed to look up, Chase muttered, “Here’s your money.”
As soon as Garcia had it in his hands, Chase dashed back out of the room, running by me as he sought refuge in his — no, “my” bedroom.
“Thanks, guys! We can take it from here!” I called out.
All still bewildered by Chase’s appearance and behaviour, they nonetheless picked up their things and headed out. Garcia paused a moment at the door, noticing something on top of the wad of cash: my business card.
He looked back at me. I gave him a knowing wink. “Be seeing you.”
And with that, he was off.
I glanced at my watch. It was 2:30. I didn’t have yet anything planned for the next few hours. I ran over ideas in my mind about what I needed to do next to make sure Chase continued to feel like the piece of property he now was.
I’d had a productive day so far. I’d dropped off the forms that will ensure Chase is rendered just as penniless as he deserves to be. I’d donated all of Chase’s ill-gotten clothes to the needy. I’d purchased some of the things necessary for Chase’s new sex life as a total bottom and I’d ordered in the rest.
But most importantly, I’d succeeded in humiliating Chase in front of a group of strangers and in front of his “friends” all over the internet. My only regret was that only Garcia got to see Chase’s tiny caged cock. I know I can’t put that on his Facebook, but I should have at least made him show the movers that he’s not a real man anymore. I can only hope that his “friends” who see his pic online will know what the “CHASTE” label above his package really means. And maybe, if I’m really lucky, Garcia is chatting with his buddies right now, having a laugh while he tells them about “that perverted fag” they saw in the red jockstrap and the shame he was hiding under it.
I heard my phone ringing out in the main room. This wasn’t the phone I’d acquired from Chase, but rather it was my own phone which I’d set down on a table near door when I arrived. I recognized the number as The Market de Sade. Although it would still be a few days before my orders arrived, the items I’d left to be personalized were ready for pick-up.
“Chase!” I called out. “Come here, Chase! We’re going out!”
Part 3 Coming soon