Hockney rose in the morning with a presentiment that all would be over now before long, and to make his presentiment come true, resolved, before night, to go to Kitaj beg his master to give him another beating. All he reserved to himself was the liberty to do it in the manner that would be most painful to him as a sub. He was greatly annoyed, therefore, when Kitaj did not appear in the canteen for an early morning coffee. All day in answer to his inquiries, Kitaj's chums replied that the top was busy. Hockney was quite out of heart at his bad luck, and began to be afraid that he would have to sleep on his unhealed spiritual wound another night.
With a heavy heart, Hockney stripped off, put on a slave collar and sat down in an arm-chair. He fell to musing, and thought how wonderfully his life had been changed in these few short weeks. He could hardly get back across the gulf which separated him from the self who had come back into those rooms after Easter, full of anticipations of the pleasures and delights of the coming summer term and vacation. While occupied with these thoughts, he heard talking on his stairs, accompanied by a strange lumbering tread. These came nearer; and at last stopped just outside his door, which opened in another moment.
Kitaj walked through the front door, dressed in a fine suit, he dropped his briefcase to the floor together with his Macintosh coat. The top looked exhausted. With barely a sound, Hockney rose from his chair, naked but for a leather collar around his neck with one single D-ring.
Noting Hockney's state of undresss Kitaj instantly brightened. Smiling down fondly on the sub as Hockney kneeled at his feet, Kitaj instructed him in a manner that was now second nature. "You may go about your duties slave. I have been told by many today that you have agreed to completely surrender to me."
Hockney rose gracefully, retrieving the discarded mac and case. The slave stowed them in a closet. The sub returned to his master's side and without a word removed the top's jacket and tie, placing them neatly on a nearby chair. Hockney next removed Kitaj's cufflinks and folded his shirtsleeves up to his elbows with an ease that defied exact precision. Next the bottom undid two of Kitaj's shirt buttons. Finally Hockney kneeled to remove his mater's shoes and placed them neatly under a chair. Hockney stayed kneeling by his master's feet, eyes downcast, awaiting the next instruction. "BDSM" was all Kitaj croaked, coughing.
Hockney watched as his Master dissappeared from the room with a concerned furrow etched across his delicate brow. Hockney silently put away Kitaj's clothing. In the bedroom he retrieved his clamps from the bedside drawer. These consisted of two nipple clamps and a cock ring all chained together so they met in the centre of Hockney's torso. A lead could either be attached directly or they could be attached by an additional chain to his collar. This was his special BDSM wear.
Standing in front of a mirror Hockney massaged his nipples into two hard buds, applying the nipple clamps, breathing deeply as the pain came through as he screwed them into place. Next he positioned himself on a chair, aroused by the pain in his nipples he rubbed his cock frantically, watching himself in the mirror. As he got increasingly aroused Hockney pulled on the cock ring. "Good boy," came a voice from the darkness somewhere beyond the door, "now a little extra for my drink tonight."
With that word from his master Hockney increased the tempo at which he manipulated his cock, and eventually came in his left palm. Hockney was careful not to drop the spunk. He stood up and checked himself in the mirror. "Perfect as always," came the voice from the darkness. Hockney smiled as he made his way to the bedroom door.
Sliding into the second room, Hockney went straight to the drinks cabinet and retrieved a fine crystal tumbler and tipped the spunk from his left palm into it. When he'd scraped as much as he could of what remained of the spunk in his palm onto the rim of the glass, Hockney grabbed a bottle of Bell's Whisky – ring-a-ding! "You may bring the bottle," came the deep voice from the leather couch. Hockney trotted over to his master and presented the tumbler, which Kitaj took, the sub then poured a generous slug of Bell's, stirring the amber liquid with his unwashed spunky fingers. Kitaj grabbed Hockney's cock and pulled him forward, sucking the bottom's fingers seductively at the same time. "Mmmmm, such a good boy!" Kitaj purred.
Kitaj downed the generous shot of whiskey in one swallow, spluttering as he switched from the tumbler to the bottle. "Come sit on daddy's lap," the top instructed. Hockney obeyed readily, sitting sides-ways so he could lay back easily as required. With the top of the bottle Kitaj pulled the chain closest to Hockney's right nipple clamp. The sub yelped in pain. Looking at Hockney with adoring eyes, Kitaj instructed the slave to: "Relax little one." Then continued: "Daddy has been thinking of pleasuring you all day, this is for your pleasure, just enjoy where your body takes you."
Hockney relaxed back onto Kitaj's arm, watching as the dom gulped down the last of the whiskey. Using the mouth of the bottle he then pulled the left nipple clamp. This time Hockney didn't yelp but it was clear he was suppressing the feelings of pain welling up from deep inside him. The slave's eyes had misted but he only broke into a flood of tears when Kitaj pulled his cock ring with great force.
Hockney used his breathing to control the pain but as his master continued pulling each clamp in turn, he found he was able to enjoy riding the line between agony and ecstasy. Breathing deeply and slowly Hockeny let out a small moan that acted as a sign for Kitaj to raise the stakes.
The top set the empty bottle of Bell's on the floor and retrieved a small paddle from the table. He prised Hockney's legs open and stroked his balls with the handle of the paddle. "What do you want little one?" Kitaj cooed. "Pain daddy," was Hockney's spluttered response. "Louder!" the dom commanded, sliding the paddle handle into Hockney's anus. The sub let out a groan and shouted "Pain daddy!" As he made small circular motions with the handle of the paddle, Kitaj demanded: "Tell daddy exactly what you want."
"I want you to hit me, beat me, make me bleed. Slap me, cut me, bite me. Bite my cock, drink my cum as you drink my blood. Consume me daddy." Hockney felt Kitaj's hard-on growing in response to his words and with increased confidence he continued: "I want you to own me, rape me, take what's yours. Fill my ass with your thick hard dick and stretch me, make me cum over and over for you. I want to feel alive."
Kitaj slapped Hockney's face hard. "You forget yourself boy!" Kitaj rolled Hockney off him, unbothered as the sub screamed in sudden excruciating pain. The paddle had jarred, stabbing his anus before falling out. "Who am I?" Kitaj roared. "My, my Master!" Hockney stammered.
"Good," Kitaj grunted as he pulled Hockney up by his hair. Looking straight into the slave's eyes he grabbed his cock. "Who's is this?" Kitaj barked. "Yours Master!" Hockney responded confidently. "And these?" Kitaj questioned as he yanked the chain holding Hockney's nipples. "Yours master," the sub whimpered. Kitaj threw Hockney to the floor, so that he landed in a crumpled heap. "So, who decides what happens to you?" Kitaj demanded "You do Master!" Hockney replied.
Hockney was suddenly aware of the coppery smell of blood close to him. Swallowing hard he realised his lip was split. The sub licked the swelling, cleaning the blood, awakening his senses to the pain that was turning into the delicious stinging ache he coveted so much. Hockney had a throbbing erection and concluded that Kitaj had been trying to arouse him in the quickest way he knew would work, physical abuse. Hockney shuddered with pleasure at this thought.
"Stand and bend over the table!" Kitaj roared. As he did this Hockney heard tape being ripped from a roll and hissed as his chest was pushed hard against the wood as he was taped tightly to it. With pain surging through his body the slave realised that he had cum a second time.
Hockney couldn't see what was happening behind him but the anticipation sent flutters through his transversus abdominis, pelvic floor, gluts and cock. Hockney felt cold glass against his arse as his legs were forced further apart. Something flat and cold was being rubbed against his rim of dark pleasures - then Hockney felt pressure as the huge object was pushed into his arsehole.
"It's okay baby, daddy's got you," Kitaj sang. "I've put plenty of lube on the empty bottle, so I know you can take it right up your bargain basement!" Hockney whispered: "Thank you daddy." Kitaj was shoving the bottle up Hockney's arse neck first. He kept pushing and adding more lube until only half the bottle was sticking out of Hockney’s derrière. "Mmm baby, you are a good boy." There was a knock at the door and a cloaked figure entered. Kitaj didn't even glance at the new arrival, he simply instruced: "Just pound Hockney with the bottle, I want his mouth."
The thought of Kitaj's huge member pounding Hockney's mouth and throat sent the next wave of shudders coarsing through the sub. This natural lubricant aided the bottle's journey upwards inside him. Hockney could feel the empty Bell's - ring-a-ding - bottle sliding further in.
Next Hockney felt Kitaj's strong hands opening his mouth followed by the top pushing his thick dick into the sub's throat. Kitaj shoved against all resistance until he was deep inside Hockney. The bottom was relieved when Kitaj suddenly screamed and the pounding ended. Kitaj's cock filled Hockney's mouth and throat with cum as the glass bottle overwhelmed his sphincter. Waves of pleasure washed through Hockney, if he'd been able to he would have laughed when Kitaj grabbed his hair and snapped his head back. "Yes! I knew you would like that, my nasty, dirty little boy. Don’t you love it little boy?"
"Yes daddy, thank you!" Hockney wanted to gasp. But he couldn't because Kitaj was still cumming in his throat.
"Now my friend is gonna cum in your tight ass!" Kitaj screeched. Hockney groaned loudly as he was no longer gagged by Kitaj’s cock which had been suddenly withdrawn. The cloaked stranger attempted to pull the bottle from Hockney's bum but it wouldn't budge. Having gone in neck first, the bottom's sphincter muscles had tightened over it creating a vacuum. The empty bottle of Bell's was now stuck fast in Hockney's arse and wouldn't come out!
"Oh dear me," Kitaj laughed, "I've encountered this problem before. We're going to have to leave you alone Hockney while we go and get a glass drill. The only way to break the vacuum on that bottle you've got in your arse is to drill a little hole in the end. Once we've done that it will come out easily. You'll have to sleep face down on your bed tonight, and I'll come back in the morning to sort it out."
So Hockney was left to spend the night lying face down on his bed with a bottle sticking out of his arse. When Kitaj came back the next day with a glass drill he told Hockney he'd known if he'd put the bottle in neck first it would create a vaccum and become lodged in the sub's backside. That had been Kitaj's plan all along. Hockney begged Kitaj to take him to a hospital to resolve the problem so that he could be further humiliated by the doctors. But Kitaj insisted it wasn't the job of medics to chastise Hockney, and drilled a small hole in the bottom of the Bell's bottle to break the seal. After this it was easily removed… Kitaj and Hockney were back in their old roles - and the master/slave dialectic going on between them had resumed its natural course.