Super Sucker pt. 8

The party at Marcus’ mansion is well underway. Castor and Corey are among the servants that are milling about, ensuring that the guests get their food and their refreshments.

But Imperious hardly ever does anything without a good reason, and Corey has been given a mission to fulfill. Eager to prove just how much of a good jockboy he is for Master, Corey will stop at nothing to accomplish his mission, even if it means betraying one of the most important people in his line of work.

The feathers crowning the blue-and-gold mask affixed to Corey’s face twirled as he made his way across the banquet hall. He was carrying a tray of champagne flutes and struggling to keep them balanced as he wove in between the many partygoers.

For the first time since the beginning of the evening, Corey was thankful for the bioadhesive that was keeping the mask stuck to his face. It had been quite unpleasant to apply, but it was far more comfortable than a strap, and if the packaging was to be believed, there was no reason to worry about the mask falling off.

None of the actual guests were wearing masks as the event wasn’t actually a masquerade. But Corey, Castor, and the rest of the service staff were wearing them. If he was being honest, though, Corey felt more relieved than embarrassed about wearing the mask.

Relieved because it meant that none of the guests would recognize Corey, particularly because he had already recognized some of them. One of them was his heliophysics professor. The deputy director of his university’s entire athletics program was another. If not for the mask, he would have been exposed and he didn’t want that.

Corey let his eyes wander for a moment. He found Master, Marcus, talking to a dignitary from one of the cities on the far side of the commonwealth. Corey couldn’t remember which.

As Corey watched Master, a small smile crept into his face. He wasn’t ashamed of the outfit he was wearing. If anything he loved it. He loved the feeling of the cool air against his bare skin, the metal plug that was pulsing and throbbing deep in his ass, which was framed by a sleek black jockstrap.

The outfit made Corey feel hot and sexy beyond all belief. It was strange. He had always been the private type. The thought of being naked in public had always been profoundly uncomfortable. Well, had. Now he didn’t mind. Well, not in this specific situation, at least.

Corey felt confident in himself. There was nothing for him to fear. Nothing for him to be ashamed of. After all, a good jockboy loves to show off his body for his master.

It was one of the rules, one of the phrases that Corey had been repeating over and over and over in his head. Alongside A good jockboy eagerly displays his jock body when his master tells him to, and a number of other phrases, Corey had learned the mantra by heart. He let the words echo in his head whenever he wasn’t thinking about anything else, reinforcing them, etching them into his very soul.

Truth be told, these days Corey thought less and less for himself. It wasn’t quite what he had always fantasized about, but it was close. He loved the way that Master controlled him, the way that Master made sure that he knew it wasn’t his place to do any independent thinking. That his will was to be subsumed by Master’s will.

It was what Corey had always dreamed about, what he had shamefully jerked his cock to in the privacy of his own bedroom. He was disappointed that his Master wasn’t Imperious, but that was a minor detail. His disappointment didn’t matter. His emotions didn’t matter. His own thoughts didn’t matter.

After all, a good jockboy does not think unless he needs to, and a good jockboy leaves the thinking to his master Corey smiled to himself. There were a few more rules, but one more important than all the others. It was the rule, the phrase that repeated itself most frequently in his mind. A good jockboy does what his master tells him to do.

And tonight, Corey’s mission from Master was to entertain the guests by being the party’s eye-candy. Castor had the same mission. However, unlike the rest of the service staff, Corey and Castor were strictly for visual enjoyment only, hence the feathers in their masks.

It didn’t stop a few of the men who were present from trying to cop a feel. A few had grazed the tattoo on Corey’s ass, nearly making him drop his tray of drinks. Despite the room being quite large and the event being for the social elite of the commonwealth, the banquet hall was still packed with people.

If not for the fact that Master had told him light touches here and there were okay, Corey might well have spent the entire night petrified in a corner, afraid of disappointing Master by letting himself be touched.

As he wandered around the floor, Corey struggled to accept the fact that he was in the presence of so many high-profile commonwealth figures. Not even as Tempest had he been in the presence of so many politicians, successful businessmen, and entertainment stars.

All of these people surely had incredibly busy lives and yet here they were, the glitterati of the commonwealth, the cremé de la cremé of the social elite, practically eating right out of the palm of Master’s hand.

Corey carefully tucked the tray under his arm as the last champagne flute was plucked from it by a portly gentleman that he recognized as the CEO of Asclepius Incorporated, one of the foremost pharmaceutical companies this side of the commonwealth. It was truly a remarkable feat that to have so many men in a single room.

The fact that no one had stirred up any trouble at the moment spoke to how well-respected Master was in this, the highest of social circles. From what Corey understood, and he didn’t deign begin to think that he grasped the politicking that happened at this echelon of the social hierarchy, roughly half of the room vehemently detested the other half.

That these men were willing to temporarily set aside their petty squabbles in Master’s presence was awe-inspiring. It made Corey proud to have been chosen by his Master.

Corey had seen quite a few handsome youths while walking around in the throng of people. There was no doubt Master could have his pick of any of those boys and yet there they were on the floor, freely associating with all the other men in the room. It was sad, really. Corey couldn’t think of anything more fulfilling or more arousing than serving at the pleasure of Master.

Speaking of which, Corey remembered that Master had given him a peculiar task. He didn’t question whether he had to do it. He only found it rather curious that after insisting that he not let any of the "degenerates," as Master called them, touch him, Master told him to actually invite one particular person in the crowd to do so.

Master wasn’t forthcoming with his reasons, but Corey didn’t mind. He served at the pleasure of Master. It wasn’t his place to question his orders, however strange they were. His place was to follow Master’s commands without doubt, hesitation, or second thought.

Corey smiled to himself as he spotted his target. The man, dressed in a beautiful bespoke suit with red accents, struck quite the imposing figure. His eyes roamed the room with a detached disinterest, glowing faintly golden in the light.

The man was rather familiar to Corey. Not because he knew the man particularly well, but because his face was everywhere in the Hall of Heroes. Well, his masked face, at least. Bernard Aquinas Jr., otherwise known as the Silver Serpent, was one of the most prominent heroes of the Hall, if not the most prominent one.

At the comparably young age of 35 Bernard had already racked up a rather spectacular list of super villain takedowns, the majority of whom were still safely in confinement thanks to the DSCR, the Department of Supervillain Correction and Rehabilitation, which Silver Serpent personally oversaw.

Grabbing two champagne flutes from one of the other servers, Corey made his way to Silver Serpent with a bit of a swish in his step. Master had made Corey oil his body and he now understood why. If he hadn’t been glistening, his muscles rippling with every movement, Silver Serpent’s eyes would have glided right over him.

But instead, as Corey walked over, a glass in either hand, Silver Serpent’s eyes seemed almost drawn to him. He let a small smile grace his lips and felt a rush of satisfaction as it was reciprocated by a twitch in Bernard’s otherwise-stony expression.

For all the effort that Bernard put into seeming standoffish and distant, Corey could see all the hallmark signs of carnal appreciation in his expression. There was a gentle flush to Bernard’s cheeks, a slight widening of his pupils. Bernard was in control of himself, yes, but that didn’t mean his body didn’t know what it wanted. And right now, at least as far as Corey could tell, Bernard’s body wanted him.

"Hello," said Corey, instinctively lowering his voice to a husky, seductive register. He walked right up into Bernard’s personal space and could feel the hero shifting uncomfortably beside him. He handed a glass of champagne to Bernard and smiled. "Nervous?" he said. "Maybe this might help."

"Y-Yeah, thanks," stammered Bernard. He clumsily grabbed the champagne from Corey’s hand before knocking the drink back in one gulp. Corey giggled as Berbard’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "T-That’s not how you drink this, is it?" he said.

"No," said Corey, with a coy little smile. "Come on," he said, grabbing Bernard’s hand. Bernard didn’t fight him as he pulled Bernard over to one of the empty couches arranged against the wall. "Sit down. It might help with the nerves."

Bernard took a deep breath and looked at Corey. "Thanks… That-That does help, thank you," he said, with a small smile. "I’m just… so not used to any of this, you know? I work a desk job. I don’t attend formals like this!" he added.

Corey took a bit of a risk and crept closer to Bernard. He kept his distance. Bernard had to be the one to make a move. At least, that was what Master had told him. "Mmm…" Corey hummed, "I don’t think there are many formals like this. I mean… Where would you go that the serving staff is dressed like this?"

Bernard scratched the back of his head and chuckled. He sounded embarrassed. "Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right," he said. Corey leaned back as he realized just where Bernard was looking. He draped one of his arms over his stomach, letting his fingers roam down his hard abs. A moment later, Bernard realized that Corey knew he was staring and abruptly jerked his eyes away.

Corey smiled. He already had Bernard. It was just a matter of closing the trap. He was pleased that someone as attractive as Bernard found him attractive, but more importantly, he was happy that he was going to be able to complete the mission that Master had set out for him.

"Are you… are you going to finish that?" said Bernard, sheepishly.

"This?" said Corey, tilting the glass of champagne that he hadn’t taken a single sip of yet. Bernard nodded. "Need a little more liquid encouragement, do we?" said Corey, with a devilish little grin.

"Yeah… I mean… No… I mean, yes, the drink. But no, it’s not like that at all," said Bernard, somehow managing to stumble through all his words in the end.

"I’m just pulling your leg," said Corey, handing the champagne flute to Bernard. This time, at least, Bernard drank the champagne like he was supposed to.

A small part of Corey was surprised at how smooth he was being. Usually he was the one stumbling around his words. That much had been clear on the few dates that he’d gone on. But today he felt confident and self-assured. He was certain it had everything to do with Master and the fact that he knew he had to finish the mission, that he had to make Master happy.

"God you’re so fucking pretty," Bernard blurted out. Corey was taken aback by the sudden outburst. He didn’t know what to say and there was a moment of awkward silence as he watched Bernard’s face slowly get redder and redder. "I-I said that out loud didn’t I?" said Bernard, burying his face in his hands.

"You did," said Corey, with a quiet laugh. "Thank you," he said, feeling the heat in his own cheeks. "You know… You’re not bad looking yourself," he said. And he meant it. Bernard was an attractive man. If he hadn’t already devoted himself entirely to Master, and if he hadn’t been so enchanted by the idea of Imperious, Bernard would have easily had a place in his fantasies.

As it was, though, Corey felt no desire to be with Bernard other than to do as Master had commanded him. Although, if Master took Bernard into his service, Corey didn’t think he would be able to find it in himself to complain.

"You think so?" said Bernard. There was a gleam of something hopeful in his eyes. Corey almost felt bad that he was setting Bernard up. For what? He didn’t know. And it didn’t matter that he didn’t know. A good jockboy leaves the thinking to his master, after all, and the only thing that Corey wanted to be was a good jockboy for Master.

"Yeah, I do," said Corey, sidling closer but taking care not to touch Bernard. Just like Master had instructed. He was close. Close enough that he could feel the faint heat of the air that surrounded Bernard’s body, the slight tingling of the electrochemical impulses in Bernard’s nerves.

Corey’s eyes met Bernard’s. "God, your eyes are so blue," Bernard whispered. Corey chuckled. Bernard’s words made no sense. His eyes weren’t blue. They were brown. But he wasn’t about to say anything to ruin the mood. He felt that with just a little more prodding Bernard would make his move.

"Yeah?" said Corey. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on Bernard’s. "Want to see them closer?" he said. There was a moment of hesitation, a glimmer of uncertainty in Bernard’s eyes, but Corey watched as Bernard slowly gave in to his desires. He leaned forward until he was so close that Corey could practically feel Bernard’s hot breath on his lips.

"Are you… Are you doing anything after this?" Bernard whispered. there was a strange sort of innocent hope in his eyes, a yearning, almost.

Corey let a small smile quirk the corners of his lips. "I’m… I’m not doing anything right now," he breathed, leaning even closer.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Corey felt a hand cup around the back of his head, as Bernard closed the distance and pushed their lips together.

Corey felt Bernard’s grip on his wrist, guiding his hand down. He felt something hot and hard, wrapped in fabric. Bernard’s cock. It was big. Quite big. Maybe even bigger than Master’s. He squeezed the hard cock, massaging it through the smooth fabric of Bernard’s dress pants. He felt a moan against his lips.

A set of fingers threaded up the back of Corey’s head, tangling in his locks of dark hair. He was starting to enjoy the contact, his cock straining against its cage, leaking onto the upholstery of the couch. But the kiss was over before it really started.

Someone wrenched Bernard off of Corey and shoved him into the back rest of the couch. Corey looked up and saw Master, a dark and stormy expression on his face. "Care to tell me what’s going on here?" said Master, his voice low and threatening, sending an involuntary shiver of fear down Corey’s spine.

"Did I or did I not make it expressly clear that the ones with the feathers are for visual enjoyment, only?" said Master. His voice was quiet, and yet it seemed to command all the attention in the room. The crowd of partygoers had gone silent and all of them were staring.

Bernard seemed to shrink into himself as he tried to squirm out of Marcus’ grasp. "I… I didn’t… I wasn’t… Sorry… I… I thought he… I thought he wanted me to do it…" Bernard stammered, his voice turning a deeper shade of red with every syllable that he uttered.

"Is this true, boy?" said Master, turning his attention and the full weight of his intensely furious gaze to Corey. In that instant Corey understood why Bernard had tried to get away. Master’s gaze felt like it was boring into his very soul. "Did you touch this man and make him think that he had a right to touch you? Be honest."

Corey swallowed audibly. He tried to look away from Master’s eyes in shame but he couldn’t. He didn’t understand what was going on, and for once he sort of wished he did. But it wasn’t his place. And he had to trust that Master would do what was best for him. "N-No, Master," Corey whispered. "H-He touched me first."

Realization dawned on Corey the moment that the words left his lips. He schooled his expression. He was pretty sure that Master wouldn’t appreciate him giving away the gambit.

"Is this true?" said Master, turning his attention away from Corey and back to Bernard. Corey felt like a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders and he fell back onto the couch with a sigh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Castor, eyes wide with fright.

"N-No," said Bernard. "H-He… H-He…" Bernard struggled to get the words out. His eyes kept darting between Master and Corey.

"Are you telling me that the boy lied? Because if he did I will ensure that he is soundly punished for his temerity," said Master, his voice sickly-sweet and dripping with thinly-veiled venom. Despite the fact that Corey understood it wasn’t really a threat, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear at Master’s tone. "You will watch, of course, to ensure that justice is met. So what shall it be? A caning. A whipping? Perhaps a spanking that will leave him unable to walk for a week."

Bernard’s face went from red with embarrassment to pale. He looked at Corey and he must have seen Corey’s horrified expression at the suggesed punishment because the next thing he did was blurt out "N-No! He didn’t lie! It was true! I touched him first. But—!"

"I’ve heard enough," said Master, grabbing Bernard by the arm and jerking him up onto his feet. "You and I are going to have a little chat, Mr. Aquinas, about respecting other men’s property."

To the rest of the guests, who by now had sort of gathered in the vicinity of the little scene, Master said, "Forgive the interruption, gentlemen. Let the festivities continue while I deal with this little issue here. I think it’s time for the night’s main attraction, so why don’t we put on some music as tonight’s performers get ready for the show?"

Bernard looked at Corey with such a pitifully sad expression that Corey almost felt bad for the part that he had played in all of this, but he quickly put the thought out of his head and pushed the emotions down. He had another mission to fulfil, now, and that was to put on the best damn show that these men had ever seen.

The music started, a deep bass beat that thumped right through Corey’s bones. With that, Master dragged Bernard off to a room adjacent to the banquet hall.

The lights were turned down low as Corey mounted the stage at the back of the banquet hall. A few of the guests were gathered just beyond the edge of the stage, but most had chosen to take a seat in the dining area in front of it.

The music pounded in Corey’s ear, making it hard to hear his own voice in his head, and making it near-impossible to think. Small lights that edged the catwalk leading to the center of the dining area lit up and cast Corey’s face and body in sharp shadows as he walked to deep bass rumble of the music.

Truth be told a part of Corey was grateful for the music. It pulverized his doubts and insecurities with its relentless pounding. It left no space to think, much less think twice about what he was doing. As he arrived at his destined spot, right in the center of the catwalk’s far end, the thumping of the bass died away.

As the loud music subsided, Corey felt his worries do so as well. He stood there, confidently, his eyes scanning the crowd. They were all looking at him. Riveted. Just as Master wanted to keep them.

A loud, high-pitched note signaled Corey to toss his head back. He brought his right hand up to his face and, one by one, swept his fingers over his handsome features.

Corey continued the motion, bringing his hand lower. His middle finger caught on his lower lip and dragged it down as he let a little smile play upon his lips. His index finger traced the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck before lightly grazing his adam’s apple.

There was a coy little grin on Corey’s lips as another high-pitched note prompted him to snap his head forward and his hand down to his collarbone. He let his fingers play on the sensitive skin sparsely decorated with blue-and-gold glitter that gleamed in the sharp light that was shining on him.

Corey brought his left hand up to his collar just in time for another high pitched note. He swept his hands across his shoulders and out to either side, raising his right foot and doing a little stomp at the same time.

Another note sounded as Corey swept his left arm up and turned his head toward it. His right hand went to his chest, fingers splayed, as it slowly swept down toward his crotch.

There was silence as Corey’s fingers ranged even lower, sliding over his rock-hard abs, dipping briefly into his navel. It was like the whole room was holding a breath until his fingers wrapped around the filigreed gold cage around his cock.

The music picked up again as Corey felt a rush of heat flood into his cheeks. It must have been hard to pick up in the dim ambiance and flashing lights of the stage, but he felt like his face was burning with arousal.

Corey’s entire body thrummed with a nervous and sexual energy as he swept his arms and legs along to the beat. He had one arm raised over his head as he thrusted his hips, fucking his caged cock into his hand.

Corey rolled and gyrated and humped in front of the crowd as the music reached a fever pitch. Even though in the past such a thing would have been mortifying, dancing in front of this crowd, using his hot, sexy body to entertain them, felt like second nature to Corey. And he supposed it was. A good jockboy always shows his body off when his master wants him to, after all.

He was so involved with his own dancing that Corey didn’t notice someone else coming up behind him. The first indication he felt that he wasn’t alone in his place out in front of all the men was a pair of arms loosely wrapping around his waist.

Corey craned his head over his shoulder and saw that Castor was dancing right behind him, pumping his hips in time to Corey’s thrusts. To anyone watching from in front or behind it would have looked like they were fucking, but it wouldn’t have fooled any of the partgoers. Everyone knew the service staff were locked up in chastity. The jockstraps of their uniforms were meant to show off that fact.

But the cage didn’t stop Castor from humping into Corey like he really meant it. For someone that Corey had always thought was more of a power bottom, Castor seemed to be getting really into the whole faux-topping thing.

Corey spread his legs as far as they could go and bent over forwards. He shook his ass backward into Castor’s crotch and shivered as he felt Castor’s hand grab him by the hip. Castor thrusted into him, matching his pace and enthusiasm, and when he looked over his shoulder to see what Castor was doing he spotted his friend with an arm over his head, miming a lassoo.

Castor let go of Corey’s hip and used that hand to land a loud, stinging smack across one of Corey’s exposed ass cheeks, earning them round of cheers and applause from the men.

At the same time, a subtle shift in the melody swept Castor and Corey into a new phase of their performance. Corey straightened from his bent-over position and spun around to face his friend and partner. He reached out with his hands and wrapped his arms around Castor’s neck, bringing Castor in for a sizzling kiss as they moved their bodies to the beat.

By now much of the audience had succumbed to the feverish sexual energy of the "entertainment." Corey himself was incredibly flush with arousal. His skin tingled with heat. It felt like every inch of exposed flesh was a hundred times more sensitive than it usually was. Castor’s confident, teasing touches sent shocks of pleasure right into his caged and straining cock.

As the two of them continued their make-out session, Corey cradled the back of Castor’s head with his hand. At the same time, he felt Castor’s hand moving down the curve of his back and slipping under the waistband of his jock. Castor’s palm wrapped around his ass cheek, the one not stinging from the earlier spank, and squeezed.

Corey tilted his head back and moaned for the pleasure of the crowd as he bucked his ass backward into Castor’s hand. As he leaned back forward to catch Castor’s lips in his own, Corey unwound his arms from around Castor’s neck and slipped his hands down Castor’s back.

Corey pried Castor’s ass cheeks apart. Castor arched his back toward the audience, letting them catch a glimpse of the gleaming, jeweled plug that was nestled in between those thick mounds of flesh. There was a round of whooping and jeering, including a stray "Shake those asses, boys!" that the two were more than happy to indulge.

Another subtle shift in the music signaled the third act of the performance as fire raced down the catwalk from the stage. A small part of Corey noted the approaching sheet of flame with alarm, but he stayed put, arms entwined around Castor, cock throbbing almost painfully in its cage.

The fire was hot against Corey’s skin as it swept over his bare feet, but he was somehow unharmed. The only part of him that felt almost uncomfortable was the small tattoo on his ass. The fire was quite real, judging from the way that most of the men that had gathered near the catwalk seemed to keep their distance now.

But Corey couldn’t afford to pay them too much attention. There was a show to put on. And the main attraction was coming. With a grin he grabbed the base of the butt plug nestled between Castor’s cheeks and twisted it. He could feel Castor doing the same to his, making his knees buckle from the pleasure of the plug moving around inside of him.

They moaned and groaned and panted into each other as the crowd watched with increasing enthusiasm. Corey could feel his ring slowly opening, slowly stretching around the body of the plug. It felt good. So good. There wasn’t even any of the pain or burning that he usually associated with taking something big and hard up there. It was almost as though his body was perfectly relaxed and prepared for this.

A quiet sigh escaped Corey as he felt suddenly empty when the plug popped out of him. A similar sound came from Castor when his plug finally slipped free of his tight little hole.

With his index finger and middle finger, Corey explored Castor’s twitching hole. It was tight, still, clinging to his fingers and sucking him in. But it was also soft. Pliable. He was still making out with Castor, so he couldn’t actually see it, but he could imagine how it looked. It was probably gaped ever so slightly, a nice pink in the dancing reds, yellows, and oranges of the raging fire on the stage.

At the same time, Corey could feel Castor’s fingers in his hole, as well. They were rougher than his. More eager and teasing than exploratory. Corey could scarcely contain his moans as Castor’s two fingers wriggled around inside of him, curling and uncurling, brushing against his prostate again and again and again, making his cock leak into the fires burning on the catwalk.

A third finger entered Corey. He could feel his hole being stretched, being worked open. It felt good. So good. He could scarcely think of anything else. He hiked his legs further apart, eagerly bucking into Castor’s fingers, fucking himself open on them.

In the meantime Corey kept up his own exploration of Castor’s hole, not just sinking his fingers in and out of Castor’s tight boypussy, but also working them apart. He scissored his fingers opened and closed, relishing the shivers of pleasure that he could feel coursing through Castor’s body.

When Castor added his fourth finger, Corey added a third. He felt full. Stretched. But it wasn’t quite enough. It wasn’t deep enough.

The music shifted again and now the men that had been scared away by the fire had started to inch back in. They still kept their distance because the fire was very real and very hot, but they seemed braver, more eager to watch the scene playing out between Corey and Castor.

Castor and Corey broke apart. They stood there for a moment, a strand of spit connecting their lower lips. When the beat dropped they sprang into action.

Corey laid on the floor, feeling the fire lick at the skin of his back and his sides. It tingled with heat, making him flush with even more arousal. It didn’t hurt. Not in the least. Instead it only served to inflame his lust. He swept his legs into the air and moaned as Castor grabbed them and folded him over himself.

Corey was exposed to the crowd, folded half over his own body, his locked cock dripping pre-cum directly onto his face. Castor’s hands went to his ass and prised his ass cheeks apart. The next thing Corey felt was a hot, wet tongue sliding up and down over his twitching and eager hole.

A strangled, delirious moan slipped out of Corey to a rousing swell of cheering from the men nearest the stage. A sizable glob of pre-cum dribbled onto his nose as Castor’s tongue swirled around and around his sensitive, hungry pucker.

Castor bucked his hips, wriggling his ass on Castor’s tongue. It felt good. So good.

In one hand, Corey was still clutching on to the butt plug he had removed from Castor. He looked at the plug and brought it up to his face. It shimmered and gleamed in the fire, the metal surface reflecting the dancing reds, yellows, and oranges.

As Corey rubbed his thumb over the gem at the base of the plug, he watched the metal change shape. It flowed like liquid, shimmering and rippling as it gained in length and girth. It expanded, getting bigger, taking on a curve. By the time that its transformation was finished, it was a large metal dildo, a very life-like image of a large veiny cock that seemed faintly familiar to Corey.

Corey licked his lips, imagining how the dildo would taste. After all, the plug had just been pulled out of Castor’s ass. He shivered and moaned, hiking his back even further up into the air as Castor devoured his ass. He was so turned on, so aroused, so hard that if not for the cage’s remarkable construction, his cock would have burst out of it already.

The head of the silvery, chrome dildo felt hot and almost life-like against Corey’s lips. He flicked his tongue out to get a taste. The flavor was earthy, musky, with a hint of smokiness. As he swept his tongue around the blunt end he tasted something salty-sweet and faintly spicy.

Unable to grind his ass into Castor’s mouth, the only thing that Corey could do to hopefully slake the vicious arousal in his veins was to open his mouth and take the dildo into it. The blunt head tasted even better inside his mouth. The taste was indescribable.

With a delirious moan, Corey opened his mouth as much as he could. The thick, girthy dildo pushed his jaw to its limit. His cheeks puffed out as he pushed the metallic cock even further into his mouth, and his entire body convulsed as he gagged on the tip.

The men cheered as Corey choked down the dildo. Tears welled in his eyes from the effort, but it felt good. He felt good. He was doing exactly as Master wanted him to do and that was the best feeling in the world.

After a short while, the entire length of the dildo was buried in Corey’s throat. He let it rest there for a while, moaning around it as Castor’s tongue dug into his hole, stabbing past his twitching entrance and swirling around inside him. It felt good. So good.

As Corey watched Castor’s masterful rimjob he noticed that Castor was only using one hand to peel Corey’s ass cheeks aside. The other hand was behind Castor, pumping back and forth regularly. Corey caught a glimpse of a gleaming chrome dildo and he realized that Castor was probably fucking himself on a dildo, too.

With a moan, Corey grabbed the base of the dildo and pulled it almost all the way out of his mouth. Then he slid it back in. Out. In. Out. In. The men around them cheered as he fucked his throat, slowly at first but getting faster and faster until he was meeting the lively beat of the music thrumming through the entire banquet hall.

Corey choked and gagged and spluttered around the dildo. It left his mouth slick with spit and throat slime. But he didn’t care. It felt so good to stuff his throatpussy with the dildo. It was exactly what his mouth was supposed to be for. For fucking. Not so much talking. After all, Good jockboys only talk when their masters tell them to talk.

A quiet sigh escaped Corey as he felt Castor’s tongue leave his hole. He whimpered and moaned, swinging his legs in a futile attempt to get Castor’s tongue back. But it didn’t work.

Corey felt bereft. Empty. His hole needed to be filled. That was what his jockpussy was for. Cock. Tongue. Fingers. Master’s cum. He whined, fucking his throat with the dildo as he waited for Castor to come back.

It felt like forever, but truth was that it was only a few moments. A quiet moan from Castor was followed by the feeling of something large and blunt against Corey’s hole. Corey cracked an eye open and saw that Castor was holding the other chrome dildo over his hole with a devilish little grin.

Corey’s back arched off the floor as Castor slammed the dildo into his hole. It was so big, so long. He felt full immediately, his hole burning from the stretch around its full girth. It felt good. So good. He wanted more.

Castor wasted no time, giving Corey no quarter. He ripped the dildo from Corey’s hole and then plunged it back in, eliciting a strangled cry from Corey, the sound muffled by the dildo presently buried in his throat. It didn’t stop there. Castor pulled the dildo back out. And then slammed it back in. Out. In. Out. In.

Corey felt like he was burning up. The dildo in his mouth was getting warmer. Hotter. He could feel something trickling down the back of his throat, and when he pulled it out to taste it, it tasted exactly like pre-cum, but with a spicy zing to it.

The dildo wasn’t hot in the same way that metal got hot. Instead, it felt like flesh. Hot flesh buried halfway down his throat as he gagged and moaned around it, as his ass was pummeled and pounded by its twin. It felt good. So good. Whatever thoughts Corey might have had in his empty little jock head were obliterated by the overwhelming desire to just feel even better.

Corey pumped the dildo in and out of his face with abandon, not caring how much of a whore, how much of a slut he appeared to the men that were watching, that were cheering. He moaned and groaned and flailed his legs as he was fucked at both ends.

It felt good. So good. Corey could feel it. The orgasm. It was approaching. Rapidly. He was riding the edge. Had been riding the edge ever since the beginning of the show. He was so hot. He was so turned on. As the two dildos slammed down his throat and ass he knew that he wasn’t going to last. Not for much longer.

His back arching off the floor, his toes curling from the rapturous pleasure of it all, Corey let out a muffled scream as he slipped the dildo all the way down his throat. The pressure building just below his navel reached its breaking point.

The floodgates opened. His cock, twitching and straining against the filigreed golden cage started spurting. The cage constricted him, but large, messy spurts of cum blasted out of the tip of his cock, splattering all over his face and stomach.

Castor didn’t stop pumping the dildo in and out of Corey’s hole, though. Corey’s pucker tried to clamp down around it, but Castor forced the issue. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster as the beat of the music picked up its pace.

The cum dribbling out of Corey’s cock thickened in volume with every pump of the dildo in his ass. It felt good. So good. Maddeningly good. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The pleasure built and built and built until right on the heels of his first orgasm, a second one followed. It rolled over Corey’s entire body in waves, making him squirm. It wiped his mind clean, made it impossible to even hear himself in his head.

It was a white-hot torrent of complete and utter depravity that obliterated every aspect of Corey’s person for a moment. As his cock started spurting anew, Corey couldn’t even begin to think of himself as Corey. He was pleasure. Only pleasure. Pure pleasure.

Spurt after spurt after spurt until Corey’s balls were drained and the cum slowed to a trickle.

It felt like an eternity before Corey returned to himself. He slipped the dildo out of his throat as he noticed that the fire on the stage had died down. He strained to hear the music but it had been drowned out by the cheering of the guests.

Shakily, Corey pushed himself over onto his stomach. A hand under his arm helped him back up onto his feet. He looked at Castor and smiled. Castor had a broad grin on his own face. Both holding their dildos in their hands, they took a bow.

There was one thing left to do before they left the stage. Castor and Corey turned their backs to the crowd and bent over. Fumbling around a little, Corey pressed the dildo he was holding up against Castor’s hole and pushed it in. At the same time, he felt the other dildo entering him.

The two of them moaned in unison as the dildos were firmly seated where they belonged. And as they straightened back up to take another bow, Corey felt the dildo inside him shift back into its normal butt plug form.

That same night, Corey was lying in bed with Master. His face was still wet with Master’s cum. He loved it. Loved the feeling of the hot jism slowly drying on his cheeks. He loved the smell of Master clinging to his face, too.

Castor was in the room, too, but he was under the bed, sleeping soundly in his cage for the time being. He hadn’t gained the privilege of sleeping with Corey and Master on the bed just yet.

"Go on, out with it, boy," said Master, stroking the back of Corey’s head. "I know there must be something on that little jock head of yours."

Corey chewed on his lower lip, wondering if it was a trick question. But he didn’t see any hint of malice in Master’s beautiful blue eyes. Nor, really, any glint of mischief. "What did you do with Bernard, Master? Did you send him home? I think he would be a great boy for you, Master…"

Master laughed and patted Corey on the head. "He and I had a little conversation about the details of the DSCR detention center," said Master. "It was a very enlightening conversation. For me. And for him, as well."

Corey perked up. "Is Bernard going to be one of us?" he said, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

Master chuckled again and pulled Corey into his chest. "Hmm… Maybe one day. I do agree. He is quite pleasing to look at. But not right now. Master has many talents and is very good at what he does. But Master also has limits."

Corey pursed his lips. He didn’t like to think that Master had limits. Master could do anything that Master wanted. He believed that. With all his heart. And he was ready to do for Master anything that Master wanted.

"Some people are more resilient against my personal brand of persuasion," said Master. "It doesn’t take nearly as much out of me to convince someone who already wants what I have to offer. Taking in a new boy takes a lot of time and effort, meaning I have less to spare for other boys, making me less effective at getting them to see things from my perspective," Master added.

"So for now, Bernard won’t be joining us," said Master. "For now I must concentrate on making Castor mine… Just like I made you mine, my little thundercloud."

Corey smiled, feeling warm and tingly inside at the quietly-spoken term of endearment. "Yes Master," he said. "You know best."

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