Anyone who said dry orgasms were objectively worse than real orgasms was lying, Corey was convinced of it.

He’d seen the sentiment all over the ComNet. Online erotica portrayed a dry orgasm as a punishment. Message boards were flooded with posts that said “Dry orgasms are the worst,” “Dry orgasms suck,” “Dry orgasms hurt!”, or “I keep having dry orgasms, how do I stop?” among others.

At one point, Corey might have agreed with those sentiments. Marcus disabused him of that notion, though funnily enough, it was one of those things that Marcus hadn’t even had to use his Power of Suggestion for.

All that Corey needed to learn to appreciate dry orgasms for the joy that they were was getting his dick clamped in a filigree cage. Anyone who badmouthed dry orgasms simply had never tried to have one after being in chastity for weeks on end.

Dry orgasms weren’t any less intense than real orgasms. At least, Corey didn’t think so. He loved the way that his cock pulsed, throbbed, and strained as if he were having a real orgasm. He loved how his balls bounced and churned as if they were pumping a load out of his cock.

It was extremely unsatisfying to be denied a release and the frustration was exquisite but that was the appeal. His body was doing its best to get him to bust his nut but it was being thwarted at every turn.

Maybe it was something that Marcus planted in his head but every time Corey had a dry orgasm, he was reminded of just how easily he had crumbled before Marcus. Every time, he had to relive his defeat as a hero and the fact that he had willingly submitted to all of this.

Perhaps the conditioning had something to do with how good dry orgasms felt for Corey. Marcus had trained him so thoroughly that he physically couldn’t come without permission. It was impossible.

It didn’t matter if Marcus freed Corey from the cage. It didn’t matter how long or how hard he tried to get an orgasm, he would get closer and closer to the edge but he would never be able to go any further. He would never be able to reach that release that his body was so desperate for.

Corey’s cock twitched. He strained against the metal that restrained him, his meat desperately squeezing through the filigree bars. He’d had no relief whatsoever from the dry orgasms that had torn through his body not more than a few moments ago.

His thighs were trembling. His hole was twitching. He was face-down on the mattress with his chest pressed against the sheets and his ass up in the air, his hips all but dangling off the edge of the bed.

Corey sucked down a ragged breath, his hole still clenched tight around the base of the rubber dick buried inside him. He reached around to try and tug it free, but his inner walls only clamped down on the length of the dildo, refusing to let it budge even an inch.

It took a few minutes before his body calmed down enough that he could gingerly begin to pull the dildo out of his asshole. He was still unbelievably horny. His fuckhole just wasn’t desperate to keep it inside anymore.

Corey groaned under his breath as he worked the rubber cock out of his ass, twisting it one way and then the other as he slowly pulled it out. He could feel it scraping his insides, sending tingles of pleasure up his spine.

He eventually managed it, the toy wrenching free of his gasping hole with a lewd squelch and a wet pop. The feeling of the crown squeezing past his ring nearly sent him fresh fits of pleasure but his body stopped just short of giving him another dry orgasm.

As soon as the dildo was out, Corey’s limbs gave out. He collapsed on top of the mattress with a groan. He felt spent but he knew from experience that it wasn’t going to last very long, especially since he hadn’t actually come at all.

Some days, he had more energy than other days, but there was one thing that never changed: it took more than a single round to really tire him out. That was part of what made Marcus such a good lover for him, he supposed. Marcus didn’t have many superhuman qualities but he certainly had the stamina to keep up.

Corey chewed on his lower lip as he brought the dildo up by his face and stared at it. It glistened in the light, the rubber covered in a faint sheen of lube and his ass juices.

His caged cock twitched. He could feel himself regaining his strength. He brought the dildo closer, pressing his lips to the blunt head. His tongue darted out, the tip tracing the spot where the rubber cock’s slit should have been.

Corey couldn’t help himself. He opened his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the head. No matter how many times he was forced to clean a cock that had just been in his ass, he never tired of it.

It was naughty. It was dirty. It was filthy. It was perverse in the best of ways and fuck if he didn’t enjoy the taste of himself on his tongue.

Corey worked his lips down the length of the dildo, his throat opening up without much difficulty as he swallowed inch after inch. He was so into it, his tongue slithering back and forth along the underside of the rubber cock, that he was almost disappointed when the balls at the base bumped against his chin.

He held the dildo firmly, his other hand jiggling his caged cock as he imagined how depraved he must have looked with his lips stretched around the girth of the fat rubber dick that was now buried balls-deep in his throat. He bobbed his head along the length of the dildo, moaning around the thick shaft as the desperate need he felt only intensified.

Corey throated the dildo with gusto. Drool and throat slime gushed out past the corners of his mouth whenever he pumped the rubber cock balls-deep into his throat but he didn’t mind that he was making a bit of a mess on his own bed.

As he was bobbing his head up and down the length of the toy, he resorted to a trick that he’d learned just for Marcus. He called up some of his inner lightning, diffusing it through the muscles of his throat.

Corey was pretty proud of himself for discovering this particular application of his powers and it wasn’t just his throat that he could do it with. If he wanted to, he could make his fuckhole tingly too.

The principle seemed plenty simple enough but it had taken him quite a long time to master. He’d initially underestimated the amount of control that it would take not to just send the lightning rampaging inside his body.

Corey felt such a profound sense of self-satisfaction at having developed this new skill it was hard to overstate. He’d turned himself into a living e-stim toy.

Since he was a hero, it probably wasn’t appropriate for him to feel so proud of himself for perverting his body and his powers like this but he found it difficult to care what people might think. It felt good. It harmed no one. That was all that mattered.

Corey gurgled a moan around the dildo as he continued to pump it in and out of his throat. He felt the electricity flowing through the metal filaments buried in the rubber and couldn’t help but feel that it was a pity the dildo was inanimate. One of the best parts of this party trick of his was the way that it made Marcus’ cock jump every time he did it.

He flipped over onto his knees and placed the base of the dildo against the mattress. He bobbed his head up and down on the length of it, imagining that it was Marcus, and he couldn’t help but moan.

Corey did that for the better part of a minute before a lightbulb went off in his head. He didn’t know if he had enough fine-grained control over his powers to do it, but he’d just gotten a wicked little idea.

He pulled the dildo out of his mouth and closed his eyes. He took deep breaths, first to calm his racing heart, and then to focus on the nerves inside his body.

Corey had to concentrate. Slowly, he mentally mapped the nerve endings on his cock to the various metal filaments and electrodes buried inside the dildo. It was a painstaking process and one where he had to make constant adjustments as he went through.

What he was doing needed a lot of brainpower, hence the need to focus. He was so invested that he didn’t even notice the passage of time, realizing with a bit of a shock that an hour had already passed when he opened his eyes.

Corey licked his lips. There was only one way to test whether he’d succeeded. He took a breath and curled his fingers around the girth of the dildo. When he was ready, he passed a low-grade electric current through the dildo, sensed how the wires and electrodes responded, and stimulated the nerves that he’d mapped to those electrodes.

His eyes widened. He bit back a curse. Though he got what he wanted, he couldn’t help but let go of the dildo out of shock. He hadn’t expected it to work as well as it did.

Corey grinned. It wasn’t perfect, but he could work on it. First off, the sensation wasn’t right. He might as well have stuck electrodes on his cage and used those. It just felt like a shock, not a touch.

He grabbed the dildo again. This time, he focused on the sensation in his cock. He adjusted which nerves were being stimulated and in what way until it felt right.

Corey couldn’t help but moan, part of him incredulous that this was the sort of thing he was spending his time on. But it felt so good he could hardly abandon the project halfway through.

He worked on sensing pressure, next. He rhythmically loosened and tightened his grip, mapping the effect on the dildo’s filaments and electrodes to his cock until the sensation was what he expected to feel.

Over the next hour, he worked on refining his technique. He was attacking the problem with analytic precision but he was also getting increasingly horny with every success.

By the time he had a decent proof of concept, Corey felt like his cock was just about ready to burst out of the confines of its filigree cage. He was so fucking aroused that he could hardly contain himself.

He could have left the dildo on the bed when he went to grab the strap-on harness in his nightstand but he took it with him. Part of him was afraid he’d forget everything he’d just worked on if he let go of the rubber cock.

Corey rummaged in the drawer. He pulled the harness out, his fingers trembling. It was a bit of an ordeal to put on one-handed but he eventually managed.

He hopped on the bed, rolling over onto his back as he placed the dildo inside the harness and buckled it down. He could feel the suction cup on the bottom of the dildo just barely tickling the top of the base ring of his cage. He licked his lips. He was so fucking excited.

Corey took a breath. He called on his powers. He tried to empty his mind—the easiest part of the process, by far—and focused on the task at hand. He wrapped his fingers around the base of the dildo, groaning as his cock twitched in its cage in response.

He started slow, exploring the sensations as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour testing, modifying, and refining his technique. Still, getting to immerse himself in the whole experience was like nothing else.

Corey groaned. He slid his hand up and down along the length of the dildo. It felt incredible. His cock strained against the confines of its cage. At the same time, he felt as if his cock was free and erect, as hard as it had ever been.

He tilted his head back and moaned, jerking just the first few inches of the dildo. He’d missed just getting to play with his erection like this. Fuck, he muttered under his breath, licking his lips as he watched his hand glide along the length of the dildo.

Corey didn’t manage to hold back for long. He wanted to take it easy to start with, to not overload himself, but it felt too good. He pumped his fist up and down the length of the dildo, going faster and faster with every stroke until his hips were bucking on their own.

He fucked his hand, panting and groaning as his heart hammered in his chest. The more he played with the rubber cock, the more realistic the sensations seemed to become.

Corey hadn’t changed his technique. He didn’t have the wherewithal for that, given how fucking horny he was, but he had a suspicion about why it was happening.

He suspected that it was the body transfer illusion at work. It was like that demonstration—the rubber arm experiment—where a person could be tricked into thinking that a rubber hand was their real hand.

Corey chuckled to himself. He supposed this was the rubber cock experiment. As far as he was concerned, it was the best experiment ever.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He fisted the rubber dick faster and faster, his own cock pulsing and throbbing, straining against the bars of the filigree cage.

Corey felt so fucking horny he was all but spurting pre-cum out of his locked-up cock. He bucked his hips, his abs clenching and unclenching as he fucked the dildo into the loose ring of his fingers.

He got right up to the edge of another dry orgasm in the blink of an eye. His legs tensed. His toes curled. He clutched his fingers against the mattress, twisting the sheets in his clenched hands.

Corey’s back arched off the bed, his hips thrusting up into the air. He moved his hand up and down along the rubber cock so fast it was practically a blur. Up and down. Up and down.

He panted and moaned, every muscle in his body locked up as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him until finally, finally, he spilled over the edge. “Fuck!” he cried out, as his caged cock pulsed and throbbed, twitching and bobbing between his legs as an orgasm ripped through him.

Despite the pleasure that he felt, there was no release, there was no relief, and there was certainly no cum that came out of him. The closest he got was a forceful spurt of pre-cum that had barely even registered.

Corey collapsed onto the mattress. It was as he was lying there, panting heavily, chest heaving with every ragged breath, he realized that there was a potential downside to what he’d created.

His mind was convinced that the dildo was his cock. And since it was a dildo, it was never going to get soft. He felt like he had a permanent erection between his legs and he wasn’t sure how to break that association.

Corey groaned. Maybe this had been a mistake. The dildo hard-on was never going to go down. Worse still, a dildo was never going to spew a load. This was almost as bad as being trapped in a cage, if not worse.

It was as if he was being edged forever. He hadn’t even removed his hand from the dildo. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, and he didn’t.

All Corey could do was moan, knowing that he’d managed to trap himself in a form of chastity that was probably even more exquisitely frustrating than the cage clamped down tight around his cock.

---

Marcus might have temporarily lost access to his powers thanks to Bernard, but he hadn’t lost his mind. A lesser esper might have panicked. To lose one’s powers was akin to losing a limb, or other vitally important part of one’s body.

There were two things in Marcus’ favor when it came to this. First, his powers were relatively weak, to start with, so he didn’t feel their loss quite as strongly as even the average esper would. Second, he’d never allowed himself to become so dependent on his powers that he forgot how to be a regular human being.

Marcus smirked at Bernard and licked his lips. “Why is it that your little pets take on the form of snakes?”

Bernard blinked. “I-I’m not sure I understand the question, Master,” he said.

“Why not a bird? Why not a fish? Why an animal at all?”

“I…” Bernard seemed thoroughly perplexed. “I don’t know, Master. They’ve just always been snakes…”

Marcus chuckled. He had studied Bernard’s powers at length. While he couldn’t reach for his Gift of Insight right now, the conclusions he’d drawn from his research remained with him. “Have you ever tried to change them?”

Bernard flushed and scratched the nape of his neck. It was as if he was searching for a way to tell Marcus kindly that this wasn’t an avenue worth exploring. “No, Master, but… I don’t think it would work… I’ve never really had reason to think they could be anything but snakes…”

“Did your father ever change his snakes into anything else?” said Marcus. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that you could just have been conditioned to use snakes naturally because that’s what you saw your father use—because of your hero name?”

Bernard was quiet. He didn’t know what to say.

“Go on. Try it,” said Marcus. He couldn’t use his Gift of Suggestion here, but he’d already laid the groundwork for what he needed. “The worst that could happen is it not working. But if it does, I would be very much impressed.”

Bernard’s eyes widened. He seemed like just as much of a puppy as Gene, perhaps far too eager to please for his own good. “I’ll try, Master!” he said resolutely as he produced another silver snake.

“Start with something simple,” said Marcus. “You already know how to turn the snake into a whip and into restraints. Try a ball. But not a snake that’s balled up. Just a ball. Smooth. Polished. Shiny.”

Bernard held his hand out and closed his eyes. The snake slithered into the middle of his upturned palm. His brow furrowed in concentration and while at first, nothing happened, the snake’s form slowly began to shift.

The sharp details blunted and then blurred as the surface of the metal seemed to almost bubble. It took only a few seconds before the snake had turned into an amorphous mass of liquid metal that resembled quicksilver.

Sweat trickled down the side of Bernard’s face. His face scrunched up. As a vein popped on his temple, the mass of liquid metal pulled into itself, compressing into a vaguely spherical shape. The ripples on the surface gradually smoothed out and soon enough, there was a smooth, polished, and shiny metal sphere on his palm.

Bernard gasped as his eyes shot open. He looked at the ball he’d created in disbelief. “I-I didn’t know I could do that,” he said, a hint of exhilaration in his voice.

“And yet you did,” said Marcus with a coy little smile. “And as promised, you have most certainly impressed me. I am proud of you. You have been such a good boy.”

Marcus caught the slight widening of Bernard’s eyes, the dilation of Bernard’s pupils, the faint catch in Bernard’s breath. Those with the tinge of pink that crept into the boy’s cheeks and he almost didn’t have to glance between the boy’s legs to know that his words had had the desired effect.

“Do you realize now? Your abilities are greater than you ever imagined.” Marcus gave Bernard a little smirk. “You are capable of things your father never even conceived of. You are more than his son. You are more than his shadow.”

Bernard’s eyes shook as he met Marcus’ gaze. “I-It’s too difficult,” he said as he glanced again at the ball in his palm. “I don’t know how practical this would be…”

Marcus chuckled. “As with any skill, I imagine it will take substantial effort to master this. But given time and guidance, you will.”

Bernard gave Marcus a wide-eyed, pleading look. “Can you teach me, Master?” he said almost breathlessly.

Marcus smiled. “I was hoping you would ask,” he said.

Bernard’s expression visibly brightened. “I look forward to improving under your tutelage, Master!” he said. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. “I have already learned so much from you. I don’t know how I could possibly repay you.”

Marcus chuckled. “You will know when the time is right,” he said. “Do you remember what I asked you to do?”

Bernard nodded. “You asked me to restrain you, Master.”

“Let’s continue. But let’s make use of this opportunity to practice your newfound skill, shall we?” Marcus smirked. “First, remove my clothes.”

Bernard took a step forward, already reaching for Marcus’ shirt with his hands.

Marcus clicked his tongue, stopping Bernard in his tracks. “Use only your abilities. Cut my clothes from my body if you must. Don’t leave a single stitch on my person. And ah—no snakes.”

---

Bernard was a quick learner. Someone in his position simply had to be. It was one of the reasons that had drawn Marcus to him in the first place. The pace with which he developed mastery of his newly discovered metal manipulation ability was pretty remarkable.

He was also meticulous and detail-oriented. These weren’t bad things to be, and indeed, Marcus valued these qualities in some scenarios. Not necessarily when he wanted to be stripped naked, though, and especially not when the result was Bernard fashioning a bunch of seam rippers out of his snakes so that he could take Marcus’ clothes apart seam by seam.

In many ways, it was admirable that Bernard wanted to do as little damage as possible. Marcus had engendered such a deep and abiding sense of loyalty in the boy that Bernard had balked at the prospect of ruining his clothes. But while Marcus was a patient man, he was far from a saint.

One of the most important lessons that Marcus’ slave boys learned was that their qualms hardly ever rose to the level of being more important than their Master’s command. In cases such as this one, especially.

Luckily, Bernard was a quick study. The seam rippers went away, refashioned into a set of fabric shears cut through the thick, high-quality three-piece suit Marcus wore like a hot knife through butter.

Marcus didn’t feel a single shred of guilt about having Bernard cut up a very expensive suit. He wore it to look good, and very much enjoyed being peeled out of it. As far as he was concerned, it had fulfilled its purpose.

He licked his lips as the last scrap of fabric slid off of his naked form. A lesser man might have felt exposed and vulnerable with his clothes shredded to ribbons and his wrists tied together above his head. Not him.

Marcus was calm and collected. Despite appearances, he was still in control. His powers, bar his Gift of Permanence, only served to enhance his natural qualities—his charisma and keen insight. It made him dangerous even when he was powerless.

He’d already anticipated the course that this interaction with Bernard might take. Nothing was guaranteed, of course, and that was what made things fun, but he was fairly confident that he knew how things were going to turn out.

Marcus’ cock twitched, swelling to half-hardness as he savored the sensation of the cool air on his naked skin. He could feel Bernard’s eyes on him, admiring his physique. “Do you know what a spreader bar is?”

Bernard’s cheeks took on a dark red tinge as he nodded. “I-I do, Master.”

“Clap my ankles in one,” said Marcus. “Make it wide.”

Bernard took a breath and produced a rigid length of silver metal. He clapped Marcus’ feet to either end of the bar, forming perfectly fitted manacles around the ankles.

Marcus tested the restraints. They were as solid as he hoped. The manacles were made of a single piece of unbroken metal so there were no weaknesses or hinges to take advantage of.

He leaned back and swung his legs in the air, letting his ass hang off the edge of the couch. “Bind my calves and thighs together. Make it impossible for me to extend my legs.”

Bernard’s eyes widened but he followed the command. Thick silver bands wound around Marcus’ thighs and calves, pulling them together and forcing him to fold his legs.

Marcus tried to unfold his legs. The metal didn’t yield. “Do the same to my arms. Make me fold them behind my head,” he said after taking a moment to inspect the metal bands. He couldn’t find any flaws, which was simply perfect.

“A-are you sure this is alright, Master?” said Bernard while wrapping a thick metal band around Marcus’ forearm and bicep, “I-isn’t this going too far?”

“Not at all,” said Marcus with a smirk. His half-hard cock had swelled to full mast, a glob of pre-cum beading at the tip. While his preference was certainly for being the penetrating partner the vast majority of the time, he wasn’t the kind to rule out an entire spectrum of sexual pleasures on the basis of general preferences.

Besides, he didn’t feel any less in charge despite his powers being beyond his reach—despite being exposed, vulnerable, and ripe for exploitation. He had utter confidence in the cards that he’d played up until this point, and there wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that Bernard was going to dance in the palm of his hand, just as he intended.

A coy little smile tugged on Marcus’ lips as he gave Bernard his next command. “Give me a collar. Tight but not too tight.” His cock twitched as he felt the cold metal cinch around his throat.

Here was danger. This plan had its risks. He’d stacked the deck in his favor but nothing was certain besides the fact that a win would be well worth the peril.

“Attach the wrist restraints to the back of the collar,” said Marcus.

Bernard did as he was told but more and more his posture seemed uncertain, his touch tremulous and hesitant. “Master, I—”

Marcus interrupted Bernard before the boy could utter any protest. “Attach the spreader bar to the front of the collar. Make the chain so short that I won’t be able to put my legs down.”

Bernard did as he was told. Everything about him screamed that he was nervous and uncertain, but there was a palpable undercurrent of excitement there too.

Marcus too felt a great deal of anticipation. He licked his lips but tempered his eagerness. “Now, place a blindfold on me.”

The thin band of metal that Bernard placed over his eyes was molded to the contours of his head. It was just tight enough that it sat firmly in place and wasn’t jostled even when Marcus shifted to get into a marginally more comfortable position.

“I-I’ve done as you’ve asked, Master… W-what now?” said Bernard.

Marcus chuckled. “You would agree that I am at your mercy, no?” he said.

Bernard hesitated for a moment. He gulped audibly. While Marcus couldn’t see it, he did not doubt that Bernard was nodding. “I-I suppose so, Master. B-but I know you’re still in control.”

“That’s right,” said Marcus. “But would you also agree that I couldn’t escape these restraints even if I wanted to?”

“I… I would, Master,” said Bernard.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Marcus’ mouth. “You would agree that even if I struggled with all my might, I could not presently stop you if you decided to surrender me to the Hall of Heroes for being an unregistered esper?”

“I agree, Master, but I…but I would never do that!”

Marcus could all but see it, Bernard shaking his head vehemently. “But what if I gave you a better reason to put me in the Hall’s protective custody?”

“What—what do you mean, Master?”

“If I told you that I was one of the worst villains that the Commonwealth has ever known, would you take advantage of my current predicament and haul me off to the Barb to be incarcerated?” said Marcus. His heart was racing. Everything hinged on this.

“Master, I—” Bernard sounded confused and unsure.

Marcus chuckled. “Listen to me well, boy.”

“Y-yes, Master…”

"I am Imperious. "

One could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that followed.