Had Centurion come under him years ago, Corey might have genuinely felt terrible about what he was doing. As it was, he felt only the faintest twinge of guilt. And even then, only because it wasn’t in his nature to hurt people.

He wasn’t the naïve idealist he used to be, anymore. He’d been with the Hall of Heroes a fair few years, by now. He’d gone through a lot, seen the realities of being a hero with his own two eyes.

Not that the comics and movies ever made it seem like superheroes lived glitzy, glamorous lives like Hollywood elites. But there had always been a sense of stability and purpose in those stories, the idea that a person could be a hero and make a living off of it.

Corey’s time with the Hall had thoroughly disabused him of any such notion. There was little glory in being a hero and it was rare for anyone who wasn’t already a big name in the industry to snap up what scraps of it there were.

He’d seen the system at work—the backbreaking effort required to just survive as a hero. Money, as ever, was the problem, and up-and-comers had it the worst by far.

It took a village to make a hero and skilled support staff were expensive. The few solo flyers who could truly strike it out on their own were either lucky—as had been the case with Corey himself—or born into privilege.

Most others had to fundraise or find sponsors on their own. The Hall gave a stipend, but it was rarely more than just enough to cover basic living expenses.

The work was often backbreaking and demeaning, at times downright offensive to one’s dignity as a person. Most had to sell their services as hired muscle, sell their endorsements for products trying to break into the market, sell their very faces—people loved a good ad with a popular super on it.

In many ways, there were few meaningful differences between what up-and-coming heroes had to do and prostitution. They sold themselves and, more often than not, got fucked on the contracts, albeit in a more figurative sense. Not that that was always the case.

While it was something the Hall of Heroes would never publicly acknowledge, those few meaningful differences between the hustle of newbie heroes and prostitution didn’t always exist. Sex made for plentiful "sales," just as it always had.

Corey wasn’t as in-touch with the younger generation of heroes as he used to be, but he knew enough to have a handle on how things were. There were at least a dozen with FanServ accounts, prostituting themselves to the masses, and he knew of at least two who were sleeping with corporate executives for a slice of the pie.

It might have been unseemly for a hero, for a supposed defender of justice, to whore themselves out, but Corey wasn’t willing to dispute the necessity of it. A good salary from a day job wasn’t nearly sufficient to cover the expenses of a hero and any position that would pay enough was likely to be too high-profile to risk.

Corey shook his head. He was getting distracted. Right now wasn’t the time to be lost in reminiscence. He had neither the clout nor the wherewithal to effectuate change in the system. Besides, other things demanded his attention; there was punishment to mete out.

As he turned his gaze to the Centurion, he became aware of the man’s quiet sniffling. He never imagined that he, of all people, would ever reduce another person to this state but instead of the tiniest shred of remorse, what he felt was a morbid sense of glee.

Corey cast a sidelong glance at Marcus. The man, his Master, was lounging in his chair, lazily nursing a considerable erection. Although he had fished his cock out of his pants and was slowly stroking himself, he still somehow managed to exude a regal, dignified air while doing it.

Marcus shifted into a more comfortable position. He eased his legs apart, providing a less-obstructed view of his hardness.

Corey wasn’t sure exactly what he was hoping for. It could have been acknowledgment. It could have been instruction. It might even have been reassurance, that what he was doing didn’t make him any less of a hero. Approval was the likely answer, but he couldn’t articulate just what it was that he expected from Marcus.

A simple nod and a small smile were all it took. A sense of satisfaction swelled in his breast. The faint unease that had been scratching at the edges of his awareness faded.

"Hands and knees, bitch," Corey murmured, more venom in that single pejorative than he’d ever mustered in his life, he was certain.

The Centurion hesitated. Corey’s fingers twitched ever so slightly. The Centurion shivered as what would have felt like a full-body tingle coursed through him, the faint touch of static skittering across his skin like tiny spider legs.

The reminder of what Corey was capable of was all that it took. The Centurion leaned forward, supporting himself on his hands and knees, shaking like a leaf in the breeze.

The darker part of Corey was slightly disappointed that he didn’t have to unleash more of his power to compel obeisance from the trembling man. But then again, it meant they could get to the "fun" bit much faster. Fun for him, that was. Not so much for the Centurion.

Corey took a step back and spent a moment contemplating the man before him. The broad shoulders and knotted, muscular back were certainly to be admired. His wide lats, the valley that followed the curve of his spine, and the perfect V that led to the cleft of his firm, supple ass cheeks were a feast for the eyes.

It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that the Centurion’s body was a work of art. Were it not for the more parodic parts of his outfit, he could have been paraded as a Roman statue come to life.

There was a time when Corey would have loved to find himself underneath a man like the Centurion. He would have writhed in pleasure as the weight of that gorgeous physique pinned him against the floor. The moans that would have been ripped from him as the power of those hips spread his legs wide.

His cock twitched in its filigree cage. He bit back a chuckle. Perhaps the fantasy wasn’t one he’d left as far behind as he’d thought. It was just that he felt no such desire toward the Centurion.

Truth be told, Corey never imagined that he could be so capable of holding a grudge. He might have hated Draconis Rex for taking his mentor from him, for a time. But besides that, he supposed he’d never had much occasion to.

The Centurion was a different story. The man had threatened someone dear to Corey—had stolen him away in the night and imperiled his life. There were many things Corey could forgive, but not this. Never this.

Instead of fantasizing about himself spread-eagled under the statuesque body of the Centurion, Corey imagined welts decorating the broad landscape of the Centurion’s back. They would be fresh, bright and stinging, harsh enough to be agonizing but not so deep that they broke skin—it wouldn’t do to damage a toy, after all.

The Centurion tensed as Corey brushed his hands over one of his ass cheeks. The leather lappets of his gladiator skirt did little to hide the sculpted roundness of his posterior. If anything, the way that they draped over his ass, falling either into his crack or out toward the sides, only made his pose more lewd.

Corey would have liked to see those thick mounds of muscle stinging and red underneath the skirt. A splash of bruising, perhaps, to round out the picture. The thought of the Centurion wincing every time he sat—every time his ass was fucked—was quite the enticing one.

Alas, the Centurion had been delivered to him untouched today. Were his control over his powers finer, he might have been able to simulate the sensation of a freshly beaten ass, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Besides, if he had to guess, that sort of thing would be more effort than it was worth. He had other options.

Corey already had something in mind. He walked over to the cart and fished out a leather harness. The make was masterful, as always, and the fit was nothing short of perfect.

This particular harness didn’t go over his chest. It went around his legs—over his caged manhood. The piece that went between his legs was molded to be tight but comfortable. It was essentially the "strap" part of a strap-on, custom-made for his use.

The next thing he retrieved from the cart was the thing to be strapped on. It was a dildo, of course. He could have gone for something more monstrous, like the ridged dragon-cock, or something more alien like the tentacle-cock. The one he chose more than suited his purposes, however.

Instead of attaching the dildo straight away, he walked back over to the Centurion, a devilish smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. The toy was a respectable size, the silicone hefty in Corey’s hands.

Corey stroked the length of the dildo. The surface was smooth and glossy to the touch, but the texture was surprisingly lifelike, right down to the veins faithfully recreated in the supple material.

The size was similar to Marcus’ cock. The girth was just about right; Corey could barely wrap his fingers around the shaft. The toy wasn’t modeled after Marcus, though. Corey could tell at a touch.

Corey knelt behind the Centurion. Holding the toy in one hand, he swept aside the leather lappets of the Centurion’s gladiator skirt with the other. He teased those round cheeks with the smooth, blunt head of the toy and reveled in the way that the Centurion’s whole body seemed to tense as a result.

The way the big man cowered filled Corey with a vicious sort of glee. Not that the Centurion should have had any reason to fear. The dildo shouldn’t have felt any different from a regular toy of the same variety.

The length of silicone had one special feature in particular that was made for Corey, but it looked and felt, more importantly, like just about any other dildo available on the market. He’d put that special feature to good use in due time. For now, he was satisfied to torment the Centurion with it.

Corey slid the shaft of the dildo up and down along the valley between the Centurion’s ass cheeks. The big man didn’t get any less tense, but his deflated cock soon rose to full mast from the teasing. It was a sign of good training—not that Corey had expected anything less from his Master and the excellent staff at the estate.

"Afraid, are we?" Corey murmured.

The words were so innocuous and yet the Centurion nevertheless stiffened upon hearing them. He hesitated only a moment too long and Corey jumped on the opportunity.

A hoarse cry spilled from the Centurion’s lips as Corey delivered a sharp smack to one of his exposed ass cheeks.

"Answer promptly when you are asked a question. Honestly. I can tell if you lie." Corey allowed a sliver of cold malice to seep into his voice.

"Y-yes, Sir!" the Centurion stammered out. "I-I am afraid."

Corey chuckled. "Good." He set the dildo aside for a moment and pushed his finger into the cleft of the Centurion’s muscular rump. He brushed his fingertip over the trembling pucker and pushed, sinking as deep inside as his knuckle.

He made no effort to make the invasion pleasurable for the Centurion. That was hardly the point of the exercise. That he used only a single finger was simply out of caution. There was no reason to unnecessarily harm a toy, however contemptible it might be.

All Corey meant to do was test whether the Centurion’s trembling quim would need more care. It was soft and yielding enough, to his satisfaction. His finger came away slick with lube—the Centurion had come well-prepared.

With a derisive sniff, Corey pushed a second finger. The big guy’s velvety heat wrapped around the digits almost eagerly. The fat cock, undoubtedly still raw from the torment Corey had put it through, nevertheless twitched between the Centurion’s legs at the stimulation.

Corey stretched the Centurion with a third finger. It earned him a groan, and for the noise, the Centurion earned another sharp smack to the buttock.

The big guy’s thighs trembled as he struggled to keep his vocalizations down. Corey was right, the Centurion had been well-trained. Marcus simply preferred his boys to be vocal as it made for much more enjoyment when compelling them to keep silent.

On that point, Corey had to agree. He was certainly enjoying the way that the Centurion struggled to choke down the noises that had been conditioned into him as his hole clutched at Corey’s fingers.

Corey twisted his fingers into the Centurion a few more times before pulling them out. The softened ring gaped for a moment, twitching hungrily before clenching closed once more.

He retrieved the dildo and teased the Centurions’ rim with the blunt head. The silicone made his fingertips tingle, or rather, the metallic filaments and electrodes buried within did. His lightning itched to course through the toy, and he could scarcely resist.

A faint glow overcame Corey’s eyes. The hairs on his arms stood on end. A gasp spilled from the Centurion, his hole spasming around the end of the dildo.

Such a profound effect, and for so little lightning, Corey mused to himself. He hadn’t even bothered to fine-tune the discharge, simply allowing his lightning to traverse whatever path it desired through the toy. He couldn’t help but smirk. This was going to be fun.

Taking advantage of the jolt that he had just given the Centurion, Corey pushed the dildo inside the big, muscular man with little preamble. The trembling ring yielded easily to the blunt end, clenching behind the crown of the glans as the head popped inside the Centurion.

Corey could have stopped there and allowed the Centurion to adjust, but he had neither the patience to spare nor the inclination to mercy. He pushed with building pressure, twisting his wrist to truly drive the phallic length of silicone into the Centurion’s tight heat.

Any restraint the Centurion might have mustered fell apart quickly. His legs tensed. His hips raised. A long, low groan escaped him as his back arched, pushing his ass even higher.

"Look at you," Corey sneered. "Face down. Ass up. Practically begging to be fucked. Who would have thought the Centurion could look so much like a bitch in heat?"

Corey forced the rest of the dildo into the Centurion. The considerable girth wedged the Centurion’s hole open, tearing desperate groans from his lips. "Then again, I heard the same was true of Julius Caesar. So I suppose you’re just playing to type."

Satisfied that the dildo was buried hilt-deep, Corey relented but for a moment. He released the pressure and pulled his hand back, watching the way that the base of the dildo moved back and forth as it settled inside the fallen hero.

Just when the Centurion would have gotten used to being filled by the toy, Corey lightly tapped the base. His eyes flashed, incandescent with power for barely a heartbeat. He sent electricity coursing through the filaments inside the rubber, stimulating the walls of the Centurion’s chute with a brief shock.

A ragged groan rattled through the Centurion’s chest. But that singular shock delivered into the depths of his most intimate place was just the start.

Corey swirled his finger in a slow circle around the base of the dildo. Lightning jumped from his fingertip, through the dildo, into the Centurion’s body. The desperate whimper that it elicited was like music to his ears.

Even better was the way that the Centurion’s body danced to Corey’s whim. There was simply something indescribably appealing about watching thighs thick as tree trunks wobbling unsteadily, to say nothing of the round, muscular ass that bounced and trembled just above them.

For a minute or so, Corey continued the torment. He purposefully kept the voltage low. He had no desire to give the Centurion a release, however unwelcome the prospect might have been for the fallen hero, at this point. Besides, he didn’t need to exert himself too much. All he was doing was exploring the nerve endings in the Centurion’s ass and cataloging which ones responded the strongest.

Naturally, Corey could have carried out his exploration himself, but applying direct voltage through the dildo made things much clearer. Not to mention, if it caused the Centurion some measure of torment while he carried out his work, he could hardly complain.

Once he was finished, Corey firmly grabbed the dildo by the base. He sent a shock through it strong enough to make the Centurion cry out as his legs wobbled, hamstrings shaking, and then yanked it free without so much as a word of warning.

The Centurion’s hole clutched desperately at the dildo’s girth. The silicone tugged at his pucker, drawing it along as inch after inch was pulled out of him. He groaned, hands balling into fists as he clenched tight around the dildo, but the effort was all in vain.

With a wet squelch and a faint pop, the dildo wrenched free of the Centurion’s hole. It shone in the light, glistening with the slick of lube and the Centurion’s juices.

Corey smirked. He slipped the retaining ring over the shaft of the dildo, allowing the metal hoop to rest against the rubber balls at the base. Then, he fastened the toy in place, the harness holding it right over his own caged cock, ensuring that it would not slip or move around as he moved on to the next part of the show.

A quiet moan slipped from Corey’s lips as he wrapped his fingers around the girth of the dildo. He felt the electrodes within. They prickled at his skin as he stroked the length of the toy.

Corey licked his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a cock of his own to stroke and play with. Marcus liked him chaste and it had been a long time since he was freed from his filigree cage.

He shuffled forward, lining himself up with the Centurion’s ass. Playing with the dildo was making his loins ache, his cock swelling against the confines of the cold metal cage. The torment was exquisite, but the objective wasn’t to punish himself.

Grabbing the Centurion’s hips with one hand and the dildo with the other, Corey aligned the tip of the toy with the trembling, slick pucker between the big man’s muscular cheeks. He pushed forward with his pelvis, the blunt end of the dildo finding its target and sinking into the soft, pliable hole with ease.

The rest followed with little resistance, the Centurion’s ass yielding to the strap-on as if to swallow it whole. A low groan escaped the fallen hero when, a few moments later, the toy was buried to the hilt.

Once he was firmly seated inside the Centurion, Corey grabbed the big man by the hips. They were remarkably narrow, which only served to accentuate the inverted pyramid of the Centurion’s physique.

He tightened his grip, his fingers biting into the meat of the Centurion’s impressive physique. He stoked his inner lightning and closed his eyes to focus on the energy that he directed through the metal filaments in the dildo.

The Centurion gasped, lurching forward in what might have been a vain attempt to escape from Corey’s grip, but Corey held him fast. His legs trembled, his ass shaking as the lightning coursed through the dildo into his fuckhole.

Pathetic little noises rained from the Centurion’s lips. He mewled as Corey gradually increased the current, his insides His hamstrings shook, his hips bucking uncontrollably against the dildo buried inside him.

Corey smirked. He wasn’t watching but he could feel the Centurion’s squirming through his grip on the fallen hero’s hips. He could hear the pitiful whimpering. He pushed the voltage just past the point of discomfort, a frisson of excitement working its way through his body as the barest whisper of pain slipped into the Centurion’s vocalizations.

Once he was sure he’d hit the sweet spot, he focused the current on the spots he knew would cause the most intense reaction. He was rewarded near instantly with a hoarse, wordless shout, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the Centurion arch his back and whine like the worthless bitch he was.

It was enough to spur Corey into action. He rocked his hips, taking care to modulate his lightning so that it would stimulate the same spots even as the dildo sawed back and forth inside the Centurion.

The motion proved the key. The Centurion’s voice went up by an octave. His high-pitched mewling filled the air, only further stoking the fury that was building in Corey.

A low groan escaped the Centurion as Corey pulled almost all the way out of him, leaving only the bulbous head of the silicone toy inside. Corey held the position for a moment, sending a pulse of lightning through the electrodes in the head so he could see the Centurion’s hole dance.

"Take that fucking cock, bitch!" Corey growled under his breath when he’d had enough and slammed the entire length of the dildo into the Centurion with one sharp thrust of the hips.

The force of having all those inches of buzzing rubber shoved inside him ripped a raw cry from the Centurion’s lips. but it was only the start.

Corey removed one hand from the Centurion’s hips and used it to grab the man by the hair. "Keep your head down, cunt!" he hissed as he leaned forward over the Centurion’s back, forcing the fallen hero’s head to the ground.

From his new position, Corey had better leverage on the big man’s ass and he took full advantage of it. He fucked the Centurion with gusto, mercilessly stabbing the dildo into the fallen hero’s trembling quim, pulsing enough lightning to kill a full-grown man through the filaments of metal buried in the silicone.

Full-body tremors wracked the Centurion’s godly physique. His eyes rolled back in his head. His agonized moans filled the air. His legs wobbled and shook, his ass bouncing and rippling as Corey’s hips slapped against his.

"Know your place, piece of shit," Corey hissed. More anger than he’d realized bloomed in his chest, bringing words he’d never thought he would utter to his lips.

Corey released the Centurion’s hair and instead used his hand to hold the fallen hero down by the back of the neck. "This is what you deserve, you son of a bitch! You think you can just threaten my Master and get away with it?"

A feral grin split Corey’s face as he shook his head. He concentrated the lightning coursing through the dildo into one spot, hammering the Centurion’s prostate with the physical force of his every thrust, and more than enough voltage to make the Centurion see stars.

The wordless scream it earned Corey was satisfying like nothing else. "You should be grateful you’re not dead," Corey hissed as he leaned forward to whisper the words in the Centurion’s ear.

"I could stop your heart." Corey’s lightning shot through the Centurion’s body, a single bolt that went from the dildo buried in the hero’s muscular ass right to his beating heart.

With no more than a thought, Corey shocked the Centurion’s heart muscles. It wasn’t enough to cause damage, but it was enough to stun them for a moment—enough to make them falter.

The sudden, fearful stillness that went through the fallen hero’s body was incredible. The sadistic glee that Corey felt was like nothing else. "Just like that."

It was funny. Corey had been struggling to embrace the dark part of him right until then. He didn’t realize anger could make it so easy.

A low, menacing laugh rumbled out of Corey as he thrust his hips and pumped his lightning into the musclebound body of the Centurion. "But killing you would be too easy. It wouldn’t be satisfying enough. This is much better."

Corey smirked. He nipped at the Centurion’s ear, eliciting a whimper. "Forget being a hero. Forget being a person. This, is where you belong. Nothing more than a fuck hole, all too eager to betray everything you ever stood for just for your next fix."

Moving his hand up to the back of the Centurion’s head, Corey yanked the Centurion up by the hair. "You might think you can still fight this. That you can still get away. But I’ll personally make sure you crave being used like this."

Voice cold as ice and sharp as the lightning that coursed through his veins, Corey finished. "I’ll make sure that whenever the day comes that you’re feeling like your old self, like the big strong hero you used to be, the thought of trying to get away doesn’t even cross your mind because you can’t live without this torment anymore."

As hot as Corey’s blood was running, his temper quickly cooled when he felt the touch of a familiar hand at his hips. "My. You are a sight to behold when you are like this, my little thundercloud," Marcus murmured as his fingers curled around Corey’s hips.

Corey shivered as Marcus’ fingers traced the curve of his spine, lingering a moment in the dip of his lower back. He leaned into the touch when they carded through his hair, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"You’ve done very well, my little thundercloud. But who gave you permission to be so unruly?" Marcus murmured as he leaned in to say the words to Corey’s ear. At the same time, he pushed his hips forward, pressing his hardness against the cleft of Corey’s ass.

Corey couldn’t help but grind back against Marcus’ provocation. It had barely been a moment and yet he already itched inside, his cock straining in the confines of its filigree cage. "Y-you did, Master," he moaned softly.

Marcus chuckled. "I don’t recall giving you permission to be impetuous," he said. Corey could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

A moan bubbled up from Corey’s chest as Marcus pushed into him. He yielded easily to his Master, of course, his body trained to accept Marcus whenever he might have need of him.

"It seems to me that you need to be reminded of your place, little thundercloud," said Marcus, his voice low, sultry, and slick as oil.

Corey’s eyes rolled back in his head as the rest of Marcus’ considerable endowment slipped inside him. His velvet heat gripped Marcus’ cock like a vice, his insides fluttering greedily around the length. "Y-yes, Master!"

Marcus laughed. "Then be a good little jockboy and let me remind you where you belong."

The moan had scarcely left Corey’s lips when he felt a familiar haze descend upon his thoughts. His eyes glazed over, his rhythm faltering for a moment as a comfortable mindlessness overcame him.

"Good boy," said Marcus. He grabbed Corey by the chin and made him turn his head to the side, bringing their lips together in a sizzling kiss.

Corey moaned into the kiss, his body sparking with energy as a heady heat filled his mind. The longer the kiss went, the more he felt like he was melting, his brains dripping out through his ears.

The sensation was like nothing else. It filled him with such profound bliss and satisfaction he couldn’t help but smile. And when at last they parted, a soft whine escaped him.

The disappointment didn’t last long. Marcus’ fingers tangled in Corey’s hair, gripping tightly. With a firm but gentle hand, Marcus pushed him down until his chest was pressed up against the Centurion’s broad back.

"My little thundercloud, although I might give you toys to play with, never forget that you are mine," Marcus murmured. "Always remember that this is where you belong. Under me. Serving me. Mind, body, and soul."

"I-I am yours, Master," Corey moaned.

"Good boy," said Marcus with a grin. He pumped his hips, driving his cock into Corey with long, brutal thrusts. "Now, my little thundercloud. Give the toy your all. Show him your lightning."

Marcus hadn’t even finished speaking and already the lightning that dwelled inside Corey had come to life. It crackled and sputtered, his eyes flashing incandescent as power coursed through him.

Lightning arced off of Corey’s skin. They illuminated the entire chamber, striking the walls, the floor, and even occasionally the ceiling.

"You don’t need to think, little jockboy," said Marcus. "Just listen to my words. Focus."

The wild display diminished. The lightning arcing off Corey became sparse. Instead, sparks skittered down his arms and along his fingers, scattering across the Centurion’s back wherever they reached him.

"Feed the lightning your wroth."

The glow in Corey’s eyes intensified. More sparks skittered across his skin.

"Channel it into the Centurion," Marcus murmured, his hips pistoning against Corey’s. "Sear your brand into him so that he might never forget."

All outward manifestations of Corey’s power ceased as he obeyed Marcus’ words without question or hesitation. Instead, every bit of his lightning was channeled through the dildo, slamming into the Centurion.

"Good boy," said Marcus, as a desperate, strained cry was torn from the Centurion’s lips.