The Mentor: Part 8 (Patreon)

The steady hum of conversation and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards filled the sleek, modern office. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of Lana’s perfume as she sat at her desk, fingers poised over her keyboard.

But her focus wasn’t on the report she was supposed to be reviewing.

It was on Isabel.

Sitting at the head of her office, behind a dark mahogany desk, Isabel exuded the same effortless confidence she always did—sharp, composed, completely in control. Her tailored navy blouse was crisp, the top buttons undone just enough to hint at something softer beneath. Her manicured fingers idly traced the rim of her coffee cup as she scanned her screen, unbothered, unhurried.

And then there was the key.

Lana’s eyes flickered to the delicate silver chain that rested against Isabel’s collarbone, barely hidden by the fabric of her blouse. The small key nestled just above her skin, tauntingly close, a quiet, constant reminder of who held control of Jason.

Not Lana.

Isabel knew she was staring.

She always knew.

Lana tore her gaze away, pretending to focus on the document in front of her, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. She should have been used to this by now—the power games, the teasing, the way Isabel never needed to rush because she had already won before the game even began.

And then, she saw it.

A flicker of movement.

Isabel reached into her desk drawer, retrieving her phone with the same effortless ease as always. It was a simple, mundane action. But Lana knew better.

Her heart stuttered.

She barely had time to brace herself before it happened.

A sudden, intimate vibration pulsed deep inside her, pussy catching her completely off guard. Sharp. Immediate.

Lana’s breath hitched, her fingers tensing over her keyboard as her body betrayed her, reacting before she could control it.

The sensation was subtle at first—a light, teasing hum against her clit and g-spot—but then Isabel pressed the button again.

A sharper pulse.

Lana’s thighs pressed together instinctively, her back stiffening as she struggled to keep her expression neutral. Around her, the office carried on as usual—people typing, phones ringing, conversations flowing effortlessly.

But Lana?

Her world had narrowed down to one thing.

The app. The control. The woman sitting across the office, watching her carefully.

Isabel didn't even glance at her phone as she took a slow sip of coffee, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. She was playing. Testing. Pushing.

And Lana was losing.

Her cheeks burned as she fought to keep her breathing even, fingers hovering uselessly over her keyboard. The paragraph she had been reading moments ago was now meaningless noise, drowned out by the steady, merciless rhythm inside her.

And then Isabel spoke.

"Lana?" Her voice was smooth, authoritative. The kind that made the entire office instinctively pause and pay attention.

Lana’s stomach dropped.

"Y-Yes?" she managed, praying her voice didn’t shake.

Isabel’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "How’s the status report coming along?"

Lana swallowed hard, forcing herself to sit up straighter, to ignore the deep, throbbing heat pooling between her legs.She opened her mouth to respond, to string together a professional, coherent sentence—

But then Isabel’s thumb pressed down on the button again.

A sharp, wicked vibration tore through her, stronger this time, demanding her full attention.

Her breath hitched audibly.

She froze.

For a split second, she swore Isabel’s smirk deepened, as if daring her to lose control in front of everyone.

Lana clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms to ground herself. She would not break. She could not break.

"It’s… coming along," she managed, her voice just a little too breathy, her words clipped as she forced herself to exhale as normally as possible.

"Good," Isabel said smoothly, tilting her head ever so slightly. "I’ll expect it on my desk by end of day."

She didn’t move to press the button again, but the implication hung in the air.

Lana knew this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Higher.

Longer.

Her breath stuttered, heat pooling low in her belly, making her shift in her seat. The slow build of pleasure was maddening—cruel.

"You were so sure of yourself earlier," Isabel mused, pretending to inspect her nails. "So confident. But right now?" She turned to face Lana fully, her gaze locking onto her like a lion toying with prey.

She tapped the screen again, holding the intensity there for a long moment.

Lana felt it ripple through her, hot and consuming, her body betraying her completely. Her nails dug into her palm, her teeth pressing into her lower lip to keep from making a sound.

"How does it feel, Lana?" Isabel whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against her ear. "To be the one controlled?"

Lana trembled, her blush deepening. The worst part? She loved it.

Isabel smirked, dragging the key slowly down the valley of her chest, letting it brush against her skin before holding it just within reach of Lana’s lips.

"Go on," she murmured, voice a low, sultry purr. "Try to take it."

Lana wanted to. She wanted the key, wanted control of Jason back, wanted to turn the tables.

But then Isabel’s finger slid up the app’s control bar.

A sharper, relentless pulse of vibration surged through her, stealing her breath.

Lana gasped, her nails digging into the table, her body reacting.

Her thighs clenched, her spine arched just slightly, and Isabel saw it all.

She chuckled, dark and knowing. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed, dragging a single finger down Lana’s wrist before pulling back, leaving nothing but heat in her wake. "You're not ready for that yet."

Lana’s breath came in shallow, controlled gasps. Her body was on fire, her mind torn between frustration and aching need.

And Isabel?

She pressed one final button.

Then set her phone down, just out of reach.

"Behave, Lana," she purred, picking up her drink and taking a slow sip. "Or I might just turn it up again."

Lana swallowed, her fingers twitching in her lap, her body betraying her with every pulse of heat still lingering inside her.

This wasn’t a game she was winning.

But god, she didn’t want it to stop.

The sleek, modern conference room was filled with the quiet hum of conversation, the occasional shuffle of papers, and the soft tapping of fingers against keyboards as the team prepared for the meeting to begin. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long golden lines across the polished mahogany table. The atmosphere was professional, serious, and composed—at least for everyone except Lana.

She sat upright in her chair, her posture perfect, a notepad in front of her, pen resting between her fingers. To anyone else in the room, she looked like the epitome of calm professionalism, completely engaged in the discussion. But in reality, her pulse was racing. Her skin felt hot beneath the collar of her blouse, and every breath she took felt a little too deep, a little too careful.

Because Isabel was there.

Seated at the head of the table, effortlessly commanding attention without even trying, Isabel was a vision of power and control. Her dark blazer fit her perfectly, her manicured nails tapped lightly against her phone screen, and her gaze—sharp, intelligent, knowing—occasionally flickered toward Lana with the subtlest hint of amusement.

No one else in the room had any idea.

No one else noticed the way Isabel’s lips curved ever so slightly whenever Lana shifted in her seat.

No one else had the faintest clue about the secret game they were playing.

And then, just as Lana reached for her glass of water, it happened.

A sudden, unexpected pulse of vibration deep inside her made her body tense instantly. The shock of pleasure was so sharp, so intimate, that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from gasping aloud. Her fingers tightenedaround the glass, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to maintain composure.

She knew exactly what had caused it.

And she knew exactly who had pressed the button.

Across the table, Isabel didn’t react. She didn’t even look up from her phone, her expression a perfect mask of cool professionalism. But the slightest twitch of her lips, the barely-there smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, told Lana everything she needed to know.

This was deliberate.

This was planned.

And it was only just beginning.

A few seconds passed—just enough time for Lana to regain the smallest shred of control—when another pulse of vibration rolled through her.

This time, it was deeper. Stronger. A slow, deliberate wave of pleasure that had her thighs pressing together beneath the table on pure instinct. Heat pooled low in her belly, her breath hitching ever so slightly before she forced herself to exhale as evenly as she could.

She couldn’t react.

Not here.

Not in front of everyone.

Her blush was creeping higher now, blooming across her cheeks and down her neck like an uncontainable secret. She prayed that no one would notice, that they would all remain oblivious to the way she was fighting to stay still, fighting to keep from trembling.

And then Isabel’s voice cut through the air.

"So, Lana," she said smoothly, her tone professional but with the slightest edge of amusement, "why don’t you walk us through the quarter’s projected numbers?"

Lana’s stomach dropped.

Every single person in the room turned to look at her, waiting for her response.

Her lips parted instinctively, but before she could utter a single word—

Another vibration.

Longer.

More intense.

The sudden jolt of pleasure was so overwhelming, so dangerously close to unbearable, that her entire body tensed. Her toes curled inside her heels, her fingernails dug into her palm beneath the table, and her breath stuttered before she quickly disguised it as a cough.

Oh, fuck.

A few people shifted in their seats, clearly expecting her to start speaking. Someone tapped a pen against the table, waiting. Waiting for her.

Meanwhile, Isabel sat back in her chair, exuding nothing but effortless control, completely at ease as if she hadn’t just sent another pulse of vibrating pleasure directly through Lana’s body.

Lana struggled to regain control, forcing herself to clear her throat. "I—um—"

Buzz.

She twitched.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but Isabel saw it. Isabel saw everything.

Lana clenched her thighs even tighter, her nails pressing crescent-shaped marks into her palm as she desperately tried to maintain her composure. But her voice was too soft, too breathy, and she knew—she knew—that Isabel could hear it.

Isabel’s lips curved slightly at the corners.

"Lana?" she prompted, raising a single eyebrow in faux curiosity. "Everything okay?"

Lana swallowed hard, her face burning with the effort to keep herself from falling apart. "Yes," she croaked out, though it hardly sounded convincing. "Yes, um—sorry. The quarter’s projections are… strong."

It was a pathetic excuse for an answer, and she knew it.

Isabel did, too.

"Strong," Isabel echoed, her voice thoughtful, her gaze locking onto Lana’s like a silent challenge. "That’s quite vague, don’t you think? Why don’t you give us a little more detail?"

Lana could have screamed.

Instead, she gritted her teeth behind closed lips and tried to focus on the numbers in front of her, desperately clinging to logic, to professionalism, to anything but the maddening sensation pulsing deep inside her.

She forced herself to breathe through it, to think, to speak. "The projected revenue streams have increased by—"

Buzz.

This time, the vibration came in pulses—short, insistent, teasing. Relentless.

Her breath hitched, and for the briefest second, her voice wavered.

She saw Isabel’s fingers moving subtly across her phone screen, adjusting something, turning it up just slightly.

A rush of heat flooded through her, burning hot and wicked and completely unfair.

Somehow—by some miracle—Lana managed to force the rest of the numbers out, her voice shaking slightly, her thighs trembling beneath the table.

When she finally finished, Isabel gave a slow, approving nod.

"Good," she said smoothly, her smirk barely contained. "Thank you, Lana."

And then—just as suddenly as it had started—the vibrations stopped.

Lana exhaled a quiet, shaky breath, her entire body pulsing with residual heat. She resisted the urge to close her eyes in relief, resisting the temptation to shift in her chair as the last remnants of pleasure lingered between her thighs.

She didn’t dare look at Isabel.

But she could feel her smirk, could feel her watching, could feel the silent promise in her eyes.

This wasn’t over, not even close.

The moment Lana stepped through the door of her house, a slow, satisfied breath escaped her lips. The stress of the day, the lingering heat Isabel had left simmering beneath her skin, all of it thrummed inside her, coiling tight. But now, she was home. And here, she had the power.

Her boots clicked softly against the hardwood as she stepped inside, and there, right where he belonged, Jason was waiting.

Kneeling just inside the entryway, his body was bare save for the sleek, locked steel between his legs. The chastity cage gleamed under the soft lighting, a visible reminder of his devotion. His hands rested palm-up on his thighs, his shoulders squared despite the undeniable vulnerability of his position.

But what truly pleased Lana was the way his eyes found her the moment she walked in—wide, eager, worshipful.

She owned him.

And he knew it.

Without a word, Jason bowed his head and pressed his lips to her boot. The kiss was soft at first, reverent, but as soon as he felt the subtle shift of her weight—her permission—he deepened it, trailing kisses along the supple leather. He lingered near the toe, then the arch, his lips warm and obedient as he lavished attention on the very ground she walked on.

Lana smirked, amusement flickering in her darkened gaze.

She let her coat fall from her shoulders, along with her handbag, making no effort to place them anywhere but the floor.

Jason scrambled.

He moved with frantic efficiency, catching her coat before it fully crumpled, sweeping up her bag with the other hand. His movements were quick, practiced—a silent display of how well-trained he had become. And when he was done, he knelt again, immediately, waiting for her next command.

Lana exhaled a pleased sigh, lifting her boot just slightly. Jason understood. His lips parted, and he pressed another slow, open-mouthed kiss against the smooth surface.

"Good boy," she purred, trailing her fingers through his hair before gripping it, just enough to make him still.

Jason trembled, his breath hitching. She could feel it—his need, his desperation, the ache that the cage kept locked away.

She let her fingertips drift lower, grazing the metal. A quiet whimper escaped him at the contact, his hips shifting on instinct.

Lana chuckled, tracing the edges of the device with lazy amusement. "Poor thing," she mused, running her thumb along the length of the cool metal. "Still locked up. Still waiting."

Jason swallowed hard.

"I suppose," she continued, pressing her palm more firmly against the chastity, making him suck in a breath, "you’ll just have to suffer through another night like this, won’t you?"

"Yes, Mistress," Jason whispered, his voice strained.

Lana smirked.

She released him suddenly, standing tall as she made her way into the living room, unbuttoning the first few buttons of her blouse as she walked. "I had such an interesting day, Jason," she said, her voice slow, sultry. "You’d love to hear about it, wouldn’t you?"

Jason, still on his knees, nodded quickly.

She settled into the plush leather chair, spreading her legs just slightly, watching the way his eyes darted to the motion. He licked his lips but said nothing, waiting—always waiting.

Lana took her time. She traced her fingers along her own thigh, drawing lazy patterns against the fabric of her skirt before finally speaking again.

"Isabel was quite the tease today," she murmured, tilting her head as she watched him. "We were in a meeting, surrounded by colleagues, and do you know what she did?"

Jason's jaw tensed. "What, Mistress?"

Lana let out a slow mmm, sipping the whiskey he had just placed in her hand. The heat of it burned down her throat, but it was nothing compared to the heat between her thighs.

"She used her phone," Lana said, watching Jason’s breathing grow heavier. "One press of a button, and suddenly I was sitting there, struggling to speak. Struggling to keep still. Struggling not to let anyone in that room know that I was—"

She let the word hang in the air, watching Jason’s eyes darken, his fingers twitching against his thighs as if aching to reach for her.

"—completely at her mercy," she finished, dragging her nail along the rim of the whiskey glass.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, his thighs subtly pressing together, the chastity straining, locked and unrelenting.

"And do you know what the worst part was?" Lana asked, setting her drink aside as she slowly leaned forward, her lips inches from his ear.

Jason shuddered.

"I loved it."

A strangled sound escaped him, a mix between a whimper and a gasp, his body fighting against its own confinement.

Lana chuckled, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to meet her gaze. "Is that what you want, pet?" she whispered, her thumb brushing over his lower lip. "To be teased like that? To be so desperate and aching that you can barely think?"

"Yes, Mistress," Jason breathed, his voice wrecked with longing.

She smiled, her grip tightening just slightly.

"Then undress me," she commanded, her voice velvet-soft but laced with authority.

Jason didn’t hesitate.

His hands trembled as he reached for her blouse, carefully peeling away the fabric, his fingertips grazing along her warm skin as he did. He moved slowly, reverently, as though unwrapping something sacred.

And Lana?

She watched him, utterly amused, knowing just how much he was suffering—and loving every second of it.

Lana lay stretched across her soft, luxurious bed, the sheets cool against her bare skin. A slow, satisfied smirk curled her lips as she cradled her phone against her ear, the screen glowing with one name.

Isabel.

She barely had time to say a word before Isabel’s teasing, honey-smooth voice poured through the speaker.

"Mm, I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me," Isabel purred. "After the way I left you squirming today, I half expected you to be too shy to call."

Lana chuckled, shifting slightly, her body still thrumming from the heated frustration Isabel had left simmering inside her. "Shy? You should know by now that’s not me," she mused, her voice silk-soft.

"Oh, I know," Isabel teased. "But you were struggling so beautifully earlier. Trying so hard to keep your composure, even when I had you at my mercy. You must have been so pent up."

Lana parted her lips to respond, but just then, warm, desperate lips pressed against the curve of her ass.

Jason.

He knelt behind her on the bed, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs, his breath ragged as he peppered soft, worshipful kisses along the plush swell of her ass. Every touch of his lips was reverent, filled with silent devotion.But Lana knew what was really driving him.

The aching weight of the cage.

His body was taut with frustration, his hips shifting uselessly as if searching for relief he knew would never come. The cool metal between his legs was a constant reminder of who he belonged to. Who owned his pleasure.

Lana exhaled a slow, pleased sigh, arching her hips slightly just to tease him. He let out the softest, needy whimper, pressing his mouth more eagerly to her skin, his tongue flicking out, as if trying to prove himself worthy.

Isabel’s voice in her ear was thick with amusement. "Oh, darling," she mused, catching the shift in Lana’s tone immediately. "You’re distracted."

Lana grinned, tilting the phone away just enough to press the speaker button.

"Why don’t you say hello, Jason?" she purred, gripping his hair and pulling his mouth tighter against her.

Jason whimpered, the vibrations sending a shiver of pleasure through Lana. His breath was hot, desperate, but his voice—when he finally managed to speak—was barely a whisper.

"H-hello, Miss Isabel," he gasped between kisses, his voice straining with his own pent-up need.

Isabel laughed softly. "Oh, poor thing. He sounds absolutely ruined already."

Lana ran her fingers through Jason’s hair, petting him in slow, lazy strokes. "Mmm, you have no idea," she murmured. "He’s been so good, worshipping like he knows he should."

Isabel hummed, intrigued. "And how is he doing in chastity?"

Lana let her nails drag lightly along Jason’s scalp, making him shudder. "Oh, he’s suffering," she said smoothly, amusement dripping from every word. "Aren’t you, pet?"

Jason groaned softly, his forehead pressing against her thigh for a moment, his fingers tightening against her legs as if begging for more.

"Y-yes, Mistress," he whispered, voice thick with frustration.

Lana smirked, her hand drifting lower, tracing the sleek, locked metal between his thighs. Jason shuddered violently at the contact, his whole body jerking with helpless need.

Isabel let out a mock-sympathetic sigh. "How tragic. I suppose you’ll be letting him out soon, then?"

Lana laughed. A rich, cruel, indulgent sound.

"Oh, absolutely not," she said, gripping Jason’s chin and tilting his head up just enough so she could watch the torment in his eyes. "He’s staying locked for a lot longer."

Jason let out a soft, broken whimper, his whole body trembling against her.

"Good boy," Lana murmured, stroking his cheek.

Isabel chuckled darkly. "Mmm, now that’s something I love to hear."

Lana grinned, running her fingers through Jason’s hair again before pushing his face back down against her skin.

"Keep worshipping," she ordered, voice sultry, commanding.

Jason obeyed instantly, his lips and tongue moving over her ass in frantic devotion, his own struggles only making his worship that much sweeter.

Lana exhaled a slow, satisfied breath, her smirk widening as Isabel’s voice purred through the speaker.

"Oh, Lana," Isabel mused.

"You really are cruel."

Jason knelt behind Lana, his body warm and trembling with need, his lips trailing reverent kisses across the soft, curves of her ass. His hands rested lightly on her thighs, his fingers twitching with the effort to remain still, to remain disciplined, even as his entire being ached to pull her closer, to lose himself completely in worshipping her.

Every press of his lips, every slow flick of his tongue, every breath he let out against her skin was intentional, filled with adoration, filled with longing, filled with the overwhelming love that burned inside him.

This wasn’t just submission.

This wasn’t just service.

This was devotion—deep, unshakable, all-consuming.

Jason had given himself to Lana in every way imaginable, not just through obedience, not just through the unrelenting struggle of the chastity cage locked tightly between his thighs, but through something far more powerful. He had given her his trust, his body, his desires, and most of all—his heart.

He pressed another slow, lingering kiss against her ass, exhaling softly as the warmth of her skin filled his senses. His world had narrowed down to this moment, to the taste of her, the sound of her contented sighs, the thrumming pulse of his own desire that had long since become a constant state of being.

And then she moved—just slightly, just enough to shift her weight and press herself more firmly against his eager mouth.

Jason nearly moaned at the privilege of it.

She was giving him more. Letting him closer. Allowing him to show her, with his lips, his tongue, his every trembling breath, just how much he loved her.

The chastity cage between his thighs felt impossibly tight, the unforgiving metal pressing against him, reminding him once again of who owned his pleasure—who had complete control over him. The ache, the frustration, the pulsing heat that had nowhere to go—it only made his worship more desperate, more fervent, more needy.

And still, he wouldn’t dare stop.

Because he knew what would come next.

She would tease him.

She would remind him, with a wicked smile and a knowing touch, exactly how long she planned to keep him in this state—aching, throbbing, completely and utterly helpless for her.

And Jason?

He would accept it.

Not just because he had no choice, not just because she held the key, but because he wanted this.

He needed it.

He had given himself over to her fully, and he had never been happier.

Lana shifted again, this time reaching back, her fingers tangling into his hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down his spine. Jason let out a quiet, helpless whimper against her skin, his hips pressing forward on instinct, despite knowing it would bring him no relief. The cage held him firmly, keeping him trapped, keeping him exactly as she wanted him—desperate, obedient, owned.

And he wouldn’t change a single thing.

He wanted to tell her.

That he adored her. That he craved her. That he would wait forever if that’s what she demanded of him. That he consented to all of it, every moment of denial, every whispered command, every smirk and knowing glance that reminded him of exactly where he stood.

But he didn’t need to say it.

She already knew.

And when she tugged his hair just a little harder, tilting his face up so she could look down at him, amusement and control gleaming in her darkened eyes, he felt it—the unspoken understanding that passed between them.

She loved him, too.

In her way.

On her terms.

And Jason?

He wouldn’t have it any other way. He couldn’t wait to see what Isabel and Lana planned next.