Schrodinger's Catboy

For a few seconds, the audience gazed in awe as a rope of pre-cum jetted out of his cock and landed against her white sweater through sheer Pavlovian recognition. Giggling, Madame Octavia whispered "Hello, my sweet little thing...". The boy couldn't hear her, but she wasn't speaking to him in any case.

With glacial patience, she let him adjust to the new-found tactility, until his breathing returned from panicked to merely frantic. Within him the same war as always raged - to not let his guard down, as he knew what was coming. Inevitably, however, he couldn't stay tense forever, and with tiny, near-imperceptible changes, her trained eye spotted the shift in his demeanour. Once again the hall was silent -- apart from the wet sounds of locked lips and pistoning fingers, although even they had slowed to take in this demonstration of absolute control.

Once Madame Octavia was satisfied he wasn't quite expecting it, she glided her fingertips from the base of his cock to the tip, tracing the delicate contours with frictionless ease due to the copious precum and aphrodisiac-laced-lubricant mix the feathers had been dosed with. Once she reached just below the head, she released his cock, and left it bobbing in exasperation.

The poor boy shrieked in agonized ecstasy, and this elicited a cheer from the crowd of girls. He watched on at their collective frenzied and unimpeded masturbation through the camera above, which of course did very little to alleviate his wanton need.

After dragging her fingertips a few more times along his cock, which took far longer than it had to, Kindal and the other volunteers were practically drooling at the sight of a master - or rather mistress - of her craft at work.

Only then, however, did Kindal notice a clear plastic device around the base of the catboy's cock.

"Madame Octavia, is that...?"

"Yes, my dear. The little bead at the bottom is a vibrator, but it's pushing in just enough to make sure that he cannot possibly orgasm."

"Then surely..." Kindal continued, but didn't complete her thought, as Madame Octavia merely smiled at her, yet in those eyes she saw nothing but icy countenance.

"If he never ejaculates, then surely he was never aroused. Isn't quantum mechanics fascinating?"

Kindal practically doubled over at the sheer unfairness of it all, her breathing ragged with a level of arousal she had never known.

"Alright, alright..." Madame Octavia said at last, and stood back as they slowly moved in to replace her.

Using the remote, she panned the camera down so that now the catboy's focus - rather than on the crowd of horny girls - was a close up on the four tease-starved lasses desperate to make him suffer, all knelt around his poor, vulnerable, exposed, tortured cock. A high pitched whine of fear from the masked boy was all that was heard before, like a pack of predators, they descended upon it.

Having watched Kindal's technique closely, two of the girls now set both pairs of nails each to the poor catboy's delicate jewels, as they gently stretched his velvety smooth sack out with one hand each, allowing the others free to drag and spider across the taut skin mercilessly. The third had taken close account of Madame Octavia's demonstration, and slowly rippled her fingertips in waves along his cock, giggling at the way it throbbed needily under her touch. Within the box, the boy was gritting his teeth against his gag, as the girl's technique was just different enough from that of Madame Octavia's to be both a new sensation, yet similar enough to dredge up the same memories of hundreds of hours of her torture.

Of course none more than Kindal relished in the feelings of power, of control, of sheer vicarous suffering she was now able to inflict upon this boy. She simply revelled in the supremacy of it all, her heart fluttering as her ego swelled. This, she thought, was what she had dreamed of. This feeling.

His cock bobbed and throbbed mightily under her hot, panting breath, long since stretched beyond what it could possibly have hoped to withstand. It was simultanouesly crying out for the very attention which was delivering such suffering upon it, and yet that same attention could not possibly give it the relief it so dearly desired. It was, in a word, heaven for her, hell for him.

Even if the girls had felt extraordinarily merciful, a trait which had long since been crushed out of their society, or had been extremely careless and made a mistake, which was unlikely for multi-year long experts in the study of masturbatrix practices... only Madame Octavia either knew how to or even could remove any of the restraints. That included the vibrating ring pressed so firmly against his root, which oh-so-frustratingly prevented any hope of orgasm with but a delicate touch, yet made best use of its prime position at the very base of his sex to vibrate violently, sending electric waves through his sorrowfully denied cock.

Kindal could hold back no more, and devoured the head of his cock, kissing it passionately, as if thanking a lover for the greatest night of her life - which in a way she was. She toyed at his foreskin with her tongue, lapping circles around his sensitive slit before fluttering her tongue under the now-hyper-sensitive spot just below the head.

Forced to watch it all from above, as if having an out of body experience, he felt every sensation as he saw it, and yet his fraying grip upon reality began to bend and break. His mind had to keep reminding him that what he saw was not a recording of himself, or a broadcast of someone else, as his fragile consciousness sought to retreat from reality.

Prodigious streaks of precum dripped past her lavish lip-play, despite her hungry hold upon his hard and heaving cockhead. The second girl delighted as his cock became even slicker, tracing her fingertips around the glassy surface just to feel the frantic throbs from within. The final two had released their ring around his balls, and now delighted in watching them bounce and retract, tugging and pulling up and away fruitlessly from their torturous fingertips, as they found a better use for their free fingers in exploring themselves and each other.

Like a sacrifical slave, prostrate upon the pedastal, the catboy could only watch in horror as his cock was tormented by girls who, despite years of training, made up for their lack of experience with sheer isolation induced arousal. The university ensured no males were on campus outside of strictly regulated classes where a male subject was needed for demonstration or... practice. As such hundreds of prospective mistresses at Femdom University had honed their skills for years, yet with scarce outlets to practice upon.

Within a few weeks of arriving at the institute every girl was a master of the craft of all things lesbianic, if only out of necessity; although there was no lack of enthusiasm there. Males, however, were a far rarer commodity than even in the world outside of the university. Only when a fraternity managed to sneak a male onto campus, or out of their secure lodgings in the university proper, did the girls get any real chance to enjoy the life for which they were destined: that of superiority over men.

Kindal could only empathize, in that moment, with the poor catboy's cock. It was so much like her, in some ways, having been teased and built up to something great over far too long a time, and it had been waiting so long and so impatiently for it. The difference, of course, which she acknowledged to herself with a smile that was all-too-quickly cut off by a groan around his cock, was that she was going to climax - and he was not. She would both be able to leave here one day, as he never would, and of course, she was going to have the orgasm which the poor boy was so pitifully being denied.

Her fingers dove between her nethers now, tracing the contours of her clit between her slickened fingers as she did so. Buckling over, her lips swallowed his cock down to the base as she felt her stomach knot in imminent climax. Her throat constricted as, with a guttural cry which vibrated through the catboy's entire body, she erupted into a climax many years in the making. She had felt the wonderous throes of orgasm before, but never quite so strong. It felt as if the very core of her being had been shaken, yet like the sand within the glass, doing so had only levelled it out and made her firmer in her resolve.

Kindal felt her partner lick at her cheek, and she relented, lifting off of his cock with a throaty gasp and delighting in the way it twitched madly at her sudden vacance.

"Poor thing..." she cooed sweetly, and wrapped an arm around the next girl's neck, pulling her in for a kiss with the boy's cock trapped between their hungry lips.

At this, the catboy felt his vision growing faint. The sheer physical limits had well and truly been reached and surpassed.

Madame Octavia, who had thoroughly enjoyed the show these desperate prospective young women had put on, relented in her self-exploration as she felt the tell-tale rumble of the remote in her pocket informing her that the catboy had well and truly reached his physical limit. Any further and the boy, all medical science benefits aside, was in danger of truly exceeding what was safe -- at least safe by the standards of their society.

"Alright, alright," she announced, and delicately but firmly withdrew the girls from the boy's cock, which they clung to until the last possible moment as though addicted. Indeed, most now very likely considered themselves to be just that, having finally experienced the unadulterated and limitless rush of total domination.

"We must now determine the outcome of our experiment," Madame Octavia announced, and gestured to the boy who now hung limply in his restraints. The only movement coming from him was the slight rise and fall of his body as he breathed raggedly.

"Pray tell, can anyone remind me of what the question was?"

"Whether he's turned on or not!" came a breathy cry, which barely stifled the moan that a neighbour's lips upon their nipple caused.

"Put simply, yes, but why do we not know?"

Wiping her lips of a mix of her and her partners saliva, and the boy's precum, the bright Kindal stood a little bow-legged, recovering from her recent climax.

"Th... the quantum state..." she muttered, drunk on power and the hormonal rush both.

"Excellent, Kindal was it? Please explain your findings."

She grinned.

"No matter how he screams, no matter how his cock throbs..." she began, and bit her lip as she watched hundreds of her fellow students masturbating to her words against the backdrop of a groaning and whimpering catboy, "he remains in a quantum state of both sexual agony and sexual satisfaction. He cannot ejaculate, and thus, cannot express his sexual desires. To do so would require him to do so, but he cannot do so, and thus cannot. He is utterly trapped in that box, and despite all outward signs suggesting he is in the depths of the most awful sexual torture, we simply cannot know for sure if he is aroused, and there is no way to confirm it unless he cums... but he didn't."

A smattering of applause, somewhat dulled by the slickness of the palms involved, barely rose above the steady moans and stifled wet sounds of hundreds of trembling thighs and quivering lips, occasionally disturbed by a greedy satisfied moan as yet another girl brought herself -- or was brought -- to a quaking orgasm, delighting in the very pleasure she had witnessed the poor boy be denied.

"Absolutely. I am thoroughly impressed by all of you. You will all make fine dominatrixes some day, and at least several of you will no doubt go on to be highly qualified masturbatrixes from what I have seen." Madame Octavia grinned wryly, taking in the utterly lecherous scene. "Now all that remains, girls, is to decide how to conclude my experiment. As Ms Kindal here aptly stated, we cannot know for certain if the catboy is aroused or not."

Madame Octavian knew she had precious little time left before the room descended into an utter orgy, so she pressed on.

"So, girls!" She announced loudly, and most at least sat to attention, although it did little to stop the wandering hands. "Shall I open the box and check? Let us have a show of hands..."

She stared directly into the camera atop the catboy's box at that and, with a press of a button, it deactivated. He was blind. Yet he could still hear the murmured moans of hundreds of horny young women.

"Raise your hands when I ask," Madame Octavia announced, and there was practically a cacophany of wet, slick slurps as hands were begrudgingly removed from gripping sexes.

"All those against?"

The catboy shivered at the prospect of being left in that box forever.

"All those for?"

He went still, by contrast, at the thought of being released into the hands of two hundred horny tormentresses-in-training.

Seconds ticked by in silence, and he bit into his gag beneath the mask in fear, not knowing which result had won... or which would be worse.

"Well, that settles it!"

The sound of their cheers terrified him