Sunday, 11 May 2014

DAVID HOCKNEY'S ART SCHOOL DAZE Part 25


A FIGGING FOR HOCKNEY TEACHES THIS BDSM FREAK THE VALUE OF THINKING WITH HIS DICK!

At the start of their second year Kitaj was doing very well at the Republican College of Art. Hockney wanted to see whether he could make a better fist of the new term at the RCA than he had of the last. He began with a much better chance of doing so, for he was thoroughly humbled. The discovery that he was not altogether such a hero as he had fancied himself, had dawned upon him very distinctly by the end of his first year as the full depths of his masochism had been revealed; and the events of the long vacation had confirmed the impression, and pretty well taken all the conceit out of him for the time being. The impotency of his own will, even when he was bent on doing the right thing, his want of insight and foresight in whatever matter he took in hand, the unruliness of his temper and passions just at the moments when it behooved him to have them most thoroughly in check and under control, were a set of agreeable facts which had been driven well home to him. The results, being even such as we have seen, he did not much repine at, for he felt he had deserved them; and there was a sort of grim satisfaction, dreary as the prospect was, in facing them, and taking his punishment like a man. Or at least like a girl since he most enjoyed bondage scenes in which he was made to put on dresses and act like a member of the ‘weaker’ sex.

Kitaj was so fully occupied with painting and a muscle-building regime that he’d taken up, that Hockney had scruples about demanding much of his spare time in the evenings. Nevertheless, the two men still wanted to enjoy some kinky sex together, and were able to do so both at the RCA and in their rooms. On the first day of term Hockney checked out the new first year students and had even sucked one of them off in the men’s toilet at lunchtime. He hoped Kitaj would hear about this and would punish him severely for it. And that was precisely what happened towards the end of that first day back at college.

Hockney stood in the corner of a lecture room, his hands firmly planted on the top of his head, muttering at the injustice of it all. He knew that Kitaj was strict, but he was in his early twenties for fucks sake, a post-graduate art student, and he had been standing with a view of nothing but peeling paintwork for the last forty-five minutes. Hockney heard Kitaj step back into the room and the blinds of the lecture hall fell, leaving only the glow of the lights.

"Boy, what did you think you were doing?" Kitaj’s voice was harsher than before, Hockney could tell this time he was in for it.

The sub’s response came out as a mutter: "Nothing, it was just a bit of fun..."

"Just what? A Joke? I'm sure that fresher’s orgasm wasn’t a sarcastic orgasm, was it?"

"No," Hockney was sulking by this time. He was being spoken to like a child, it had just been guys messing around in the john, a quick blow job, and now he was taking a heavy wrap for it.

"No sir, is how you shall address me Hockney! I see it is not just your submissive peers you treat with such disrespect but even your master. Come over to the lecture desk."

Hockney walked over to the most imposing piece of furniture in the room as Kitaj instructed. He lowered his arms from his head and gave them a little rub to improve their numbed circulation.

"They tried punishing you with lines when you were at school I presume?" Kitaj snapped.

Hockney rummaged in his bag with one hand, thinking how cruel it was that his position in the corner had made his arms ache before the hours of endless, repetitive writing.

"And writing lines didn't make an impact on you I see" Kitaj continued as he sat down in a chair behind the lecture desk, "So instead of getting you to write out 'I must not suck fresher cock' a thousand times, I want you to bend over this desk, and we will see if I can't beat some discipline into you."

Hockney jerked his head up to look at Kitaj, and was shocked to see he was done up like a tranny. Kitaj was wearing make-up and a low cut dress, not to mention a sick stern kind of smile that made it clear that he was on some strict school-mistress trip. He even had on long false nails that had been painted with purple varnish! Kitaj hadn’t looked anything like this when he’d left the room. It was sick, in anyone else the way Kitaj was done up would have looked like forced feminisation, but the dom was able to carry it off and retain his aura of authority and masculinity. Still being beaten by a top wearing a dress was a new level of humiliation for Hockney.

Hockney took his time bending over the desk, taking in Kitaj’s female scent – a perfume he was unable to name – as he leant towards him. Kitaj stood and walked round the desk and out of Hockney’s line of sight. The apprehension the sub felt was nearly unbearable and although it could only have been a few seconds it felt like minutes had passed before Kitaj spoke.

"Hockney, earlier today you seemed to think it amusing to suck some boy’s cock without my permission." This was clearly a statement, not a question, so Hockney kept his mouth shut. "I think it is fair that you shall drop your trousers for your caning"

Before Hockney had time to refuse to comply, Kitaj pinned the sub to the desk with one hand. Hockney felt Kitaj’s body against his own and a strange sense of arousal came over him as he once again took in his master’s feminine scent. Hockney was thinking he shouldn't be turned on by this, a master who has dressed himself up in a frock, plastered make-up over his face and drenched himself in cheap perfume. It was a new low in Hockney’s sexual fetishism.

Kitaj practically assaulted Hockney. The sub felt one hand undoing his belt, removing it and then Kitaj used a length of rope to tie Hockney’s hands to a hook on the other side of the desk, stretching him across the wood and pressing his cock against it. Hockney clenched his legs together determined that Kitaj would not remove his trousers, but Kitaj’s strength was astounding, probably the result of all the weight training he’d been doing. Hockney’s overpants were at his ankles, and Kitaj ordered him to step out of them, his smalls did little to preserve his dignity. Hockney snapped his legs back together, determined that Kitaj wouldn't see through to his cock, which was, much to his great pleasure, rock hard. The reason Hockney had a stiffy was because he was completely vulnerable. He clenched his butt cheeks tight together in anticipation of the cane.

"Boy, I am going to give you eight strokes for your cock sucking antics. You are to count them and if you miss one I will start again. If you try to avoid your punishment by squirming, I will start again. Don't give me a reason to make this worse boy."

Hockney heard the cane before he felt it. A swoosh through the air then a thwack as it landed on his clenched buttocks. The pain took a few seconds to register in his brain, being felt as a tingle before it became a sting, and by the time the sub fully appreciated this agony it was every bit as bad as he was expecting. Hockney clenched his gluteus muscles to help him control himself and stay still. "One, sir," then "two sir," almost immediately after.

Hockney wasn’t ready for the second stroke, he tensed up just as the cane hit, and Kitaj saw that all of Hockney’s gluts had contracted. As both Hockney and Kitaj knew the gluteal muscles are a group of four muscles. Three of these muscles make up the buttocks: the gluteus maximus muscle, gluteus medius muscle and gluteus minimus muscle. The fourth and smallest of the muscles is the tensor fasciae latae muscle, which is located anterior and lateral to the rest. Without Hockney even thinking about it all of his gluts had tensed. Indeed even Hockney’s hamstrings had contracted.

"Hockney, why are you clenching your buttocks like that? Does the caning hurt too much or are you daydreaming that you are performing squats with a heavy barbell across your shoulders?"

The sub wasn't fooled by the mock sympathy in Kitaj’s voice and didn’t answer.

"Do you know, boy, what they did to naughty boys who clenched their buttocks during a canning in the ancient world?"

"No sir."

"Let us have a little history lesson then…"

Hockney felt Kitaj getting up close and personal with him, and then pulling down his skidmarked knickers. Hockney tried to struggle against Kitaj but it was useless, the top already knew Hockney didn’t have the best hygiene habits in the world, and was often reduced to boiling his shit and piss stained underpants in a pan to get them clean. When he did this, Hockney always feared a knock on the door from his landlady Mrs Longbottom. She would scream at him and yell that she ran a Christian house in which no man was allowed to boil his underpants on a hot plate since the smell was an affront to the dignity of upright and moral women of all classes.

Just as he tried to hide his underpant boiling activities from Mrs Longbottom, Hockney hoped to hide the fact that he now had a raging hard on from Kitaj.  The top’s false nails scraped against Hockney’s cock as Kitaj pulled the sub’s skidmarkded underwear down. But the dom didn't mention the state of extreme sexual arousal the slave just happened to be in.

Hockney wobbled as Kitaj pulled one of his ankles towards the leg of the desk and tied them securely together – the operation was then repeated on the other side. Hockney was trussed up like a turkey at Christmas and hoping he’d end up just as well stuffed. The bottom was unable to move his arms or his legs, but he could still clench his butt cheeks together. He heard the clink of Kitaj’s high heels on the floor and the door opening, but not shutting. He was tied to a desk, naked from the waist down with the door open whilst Kitaj went out for what Hockney wrongly imagined to be a wank in the john.

Hockney had no idea how much time passed before Kitaj returned with what looked like a carved vegetable that had been shaped into a buttplug in his hand. Kitaj stood behind the sub and fondled his butt cheeks, spreading them apart.

"Relax, it will be worse if you don't."

Worse? Hockney wondered what the hell Kitaj was going to do with him. With one hand holding Hockney’s arse cheeks apart, the top slipped something cold and wet into the sub’s anus. Why was Kitaj doing that Hockney wondered? Then his bum started tingling, and the sub tried to clench his rim of dark pleasures tight to stop Kitaj pushing the unknown thing in any further. Despite Hockney’s pitiful attempt to struggle against it, the strangely carved vegetable kept going in deeper and deeper. And while this was happening the tingling had progressed into a burning.

"This Hockney is called figging, the tighter you clench, the more it hurts and burns."

"What is it sir?"

"Ginger, four inches of it, freshly cut and shaped for your naughty little bumhole…"

Hockney winced as Kitaj stepped back to retrieve his cane, The sub had no choice now but to relax because the more he tightened his gluts and pelvic core the more the ginger burned him. He wondered how much the caning would hurt? Determined to stay relaxed, Hockney awaited the third stroke of his punishment. And it came. Harder than the last two on his now bare and figged bottom.

"Ahh shit, fuck, oahh, th-three sir." Hockney had been relaxed for the stroke, but then clenched on the ginger once he felt the pain of it, getting the worst of all worlds. And yet through it all his cock was throbbing, desperate for some attention. For a moment sexual desire took over from the agony.

"That was not three, boy, we had to start again, and your appalling language has done little to help you, counting is clearly too difficult for your hormone crazed brain to handle - that's right, I have seen how hard your little dick has got from me punishing you. Let's try it again, five more strokes."

Kitaj walked around to the desk, and shoved Hockney’s filthy skidmarked drawers into the sub’s gob. The smalls were wet with piss and shit and tasted dirty in Hockney’s mouth, Before Hockney could consider using his tongue to push the underwear out of his north and south, they were taped firmly in place and he was instructed to remain silent.

The next three strokes came in quick succession, one after the other on the delicate fold between the leg and the cheek. That is to say he was being whacked on the gluteal sulcus, also known as the gluteal fold, the horizontal gluteal crease, or the fold of the buttocks. It is an area on the body of humans and great apes described by a horizontal crease formed by the inferior aspect of the buttocks and the posterior upper thigh. The gluteal sulcus is formed by the posterior horizontal skin crease of the hip joint and overlying fat, and is not formed by the lower border of gluteus maximus, which crosses the fold obliquely. It is one of the major defining features of the buttocks in both great apes and humans.

But Hockney was not giving much thought to anatomy. The sting of the cane mixed with the burn of the ginger, leaving him in a state of sexual agony. His anticipation of the next stroke forced his buttocks to clench hard around the ginger, intensifying the burning sensation and immediately making him relax in an attempt to dull the pain. Kitaj waited for that moment before he struck. This stroke came firmer than the previous three and was immediately followed by another swift blow.

As the sixth stroke came, Hockney’s body thrust forward by the three millimetres available to it. The sub’s knob, trapped between his body and the desk, rubbed pleasurably against the tough oak. Hockney let out a low moan despite the shit-smeared gag in his mouth. This cry articulated both pain and sexual arousal. Kitaj heard it and let out a disapproving chuckle. Hockney, meanwhile, thrust his cock against the desk in an attempt to gain some release from that hard and sexy surface.

As the seventh stroke smashed into Hockney’s reddened backside, it greatly added to his sense of extreme sexual arousal, and all pain was washed away by the genetic urges coursing through his core. Hockney awaited stroke eight. The sub was unable to see his master, but he felt his hand, cold against his burning bumhole, making its way towards the ginger plug. And then the pain intensified. Kitaj was fucking Hockney’s arse with the ginger, renewing the sensations that had begun to subside.

Then it finally came! The eighth and last stroke of the cane. It was, in fact, the eleventh stroke - and Hockney’s arse burnt and stung like it had been attacked by a swarm of angry bees who believed their queen to be imprisoned in the sub’s guts. The bottom’s cock was hard and pressed against the art school desk.

Then Kitaj spoke. "Well done, boy. You dealt with that well in the end. Was it really worth making all that fuss over?"

Hockney tried to speak, but through the shitty gag his words came out as an incomprehensible murmur. He wasn't going to argue. His love muscle was too hard and his bulk ached for release too much for him to do anything. He simply found himself grateful for the restraints. They kept him from falling to the floor.

"However, I am disappointed at this." As he spoke Kitaj reached underneath Hockney and cruelly prodded his throbbing member. "It seems I have done little to teach you in the long term about the consequences of unauthorised cock sucking. It seems that no matter what I do you are only able to think with your dick..."

After the figging Hockney was convinced that thinking with his dick wasn’t such a bad idea – since it opened up so many orgasmic possibilities. He even made a student painting on the theme entitled "Be A Man, Think With Your Dick" but unfortunately it has been lost to posterity.

Thursday, 24 April 2014

DAVID HOCKNEY'S ART SCHOOL DAZE Part 24

BDSM ALL SUMMER LONG!

Hockney decided being submissive to Kitaj all summer was a more exciting prospect than returning home to Yorkshire. So he stayed in London with his master rather than changing his routine radically now that the Republican College of Art was closed for a long holiday. The sex was great with bondage, spankings and cock sucking, day after day. What follows is just one unusual piece of the rumpy-pumpy action from that long hot summer!

Kitaj was in a spanking mood when he arrived at Hockney’s one sunny Sunday. He had a corporal punishment look playing around his eyes, mouth and adam’s apple, when he arrived. As soon as Hockney opened the door there was Kitaj, standing on the other side of the portal with a lusty look of anticipation on his face and a huge bulge wriggling like a glow-worm beneath his tight black trousers.

This was the Kitaj Hockney had come to adore and respect. If the dom had arrived minus the proverbial bulge, then Hockney would have been concerned that this rubber freak was going soft or suffering from erectile dysfunction, or just possibly had been diagnosed with cancer of the bowel, or some rare tropical disease that no one at the Republican College of Art had ever heard of.

But Kitaj showed all the usual signs of expectancy and it wasn't long before the whip master was freshening himself up by splashing some really high class eau de toilette imported from France (well actually it was made in the east end of London and sold on dodgy market stalls as having been imported at great expense from the continent) all over himself. By the time he did this Kitaj had dressed down and was wearing only his very sexy tight blue briefs, which revealed the raging monster of his throbbing manhood lurking beneath his surprisingly effeminate panties.

Kitaj had everything Hockney wanted and more: a blue veined 8-inch cock beneath those oh so sexy knickers. The sub hoped he was going to receive a good beating before getting his mouth around Kitaj’s glorious pork sword. Beneath the thin veneer of civilisation Hockney knew he and all those around him were little different from cavemen (identical really apart from the fact they lived in bedsits, studied art, wore mass produced clothing, went to the cinema, used public transport, rode bicycles, ate processed foods, &c. &c.).

Hockney found spanking incredibly stimulating and if taken to an extreme – as he liked – a tad painful too. But the sexual aspect made spanking decidedly pleasant and fun. Hockney loved the way Kitaj like to role-play and experiment with fresh forms of perversion. He was already wondering what new sex kick he might be hit with that day. Things didn’t pan out quite the way Hockney expected this particular Sunday. Kitaj showed the sub his erect length, presenting it to him in such a way as to indicate that he wanted Hockney to play with it and then suck it dry.

Kitaj said: "Here it is David!" And Hockney instinctively knelt down between his master’s open thighs. Kitaj sat neatly on the edge of an armchair so that his huge bollocks gorgeously slopped over the edge while his lovely length stood up to attention awaiting an excitable tongue. Hockney licked it from the tip downwards and then took Kitaj’s balls – one at a time – in his mouth. After a while Kitaj told Hockney to end the oral stimulation and to: “Get down baby on your hands and knees!” Puffing and panting like Thomas The Tank Engine (as voiced by the hippest and most talented Beatle Ringo Starr), Kitaj drilled his fuck stick right up Hockney’s arse, making the sub go limp like a rag doll. And not just like any old rag doll, but like Looby Loo from the kid’s TV show Andy Pandy. Just before he climaxed, Kitaj unplugged Hockney butt and drove his shit smeared manhood into the slave’s mouth, then pulled it out again, so that the bottom was able to experience Kitaj’s hot fresh spunk spurting into his face.

Kitaj then pulled a half-switch on his slave and before you could say “Ringo Starr is an English musician, singer, songwriter and actor who gained worldwide fame as the drummer for the Beatles,” the dom had gone down 69-style on his very favourite bondage boy. Hockney’s face was already sticky with Kitaj’s spunk and before long he was in a sexual frenzy that would have done the Marquis de Sade proud. Hockney felt the tension rise in his groin and seconds later his own honest and warming Yorkshire love juice spurted into Kitaj’s open and welcoming gob.

The two men aimed to be as deliberately filthy and polymorphously perverse in their sexual exploits as they could manage. Hockney loved the kinkiness of it all. Kitaj could say what he liked and do what he liked as far as Hockney was concerned, and the top certainly liked to take advantage of this. Hockney was shocked by the tenderness of Kitaj’s lips indulging in a heated French kiss before the dom thrillingly spread the bottom’s arse cheeks apart so that his mouth connected to the sub’s bumhole. For Hockney this was anal sex with a difference, rather than being brutal it was kind and tender! What a shock!

There was no messing, or rather there was plenty of mess up Hockney’s shit-chute, but that didn’t stop Kitaj going the whole hog and really giving his boyfriend’s bumhole a thorough working out with his tongue. For Hockney the day’s ‘tenderness experience’ was simply out of this world. When the sub was with Kitaj all his passion exploded and he became whatever his master wanted him to be. But the rim job was totally blowing Hockney’s mind. Surely a master should not be shoving several inches of tongue up a slave’s fun-hole! Wasn’t that role reversal? But this was exactly what Kitaj was doing and by breaking all the BDSM rules to boot, he was truly turning Hockney on! Hockney knew how to be all arse when Kitaj wanted arse (in fact he was a bit of an arse most of the time), and Hockney also knew how to be all fingers and mouth when Kitaj wanted a deep-throated blow job.

But having turned Hockney’s world upside down by doing a switch, Kitaj soon reverted to form and decided that after too much tenderness the bottom needed a bloody good spanking. Kitaj told Hockney he had been thinking about his slave’s butt a lot. It was obvious that Hockney had a backside that had been made for punishment, and that Kitaj could make their booty sessions the talk of the London BDSM scene.

Hockney sat to one side, to give Kitaj access to his arse. The top stroked and lightly scratched both cheeks, then indulged in a little more rimming which Hockney loved, it stirred him up for a good fist fucking later!

Kitaj and Hockney had spoken a lot about how pain and sex can combine to make for a really passionate sex session. Kitaj told Hockney to get on his lap and then push his arse up in the air – making his tail bone rise and arching his spine at the same time. It felt nice and Hockney touched the floor with his hands, hia head hanging downwards – almost as if he was performing yoga or perhaps pilates - as he awaited the first slap across his tight buttocks.

After a hard slap, Kitaj paused before hitting his target again. Then the tempo of the beating slowly increased. Hockney’s arse tingled and felt very tender as Kitaj carefully spanked one cheek and then the other alternately and occasionally both together - almost as if he was beating out a rock and roll monster beat. Sometimes Kitaj firmed his slap, at others he was loser and somewhat careless, and this gave a flexibility to his rhythm that could be found in the blues but not in western classical music. Hockney closed his eyes and took each sting of pain across his wonderful booty as a perverse pleasure that turned on both himself and his master Kitaj.

Sunday, 6 April 2014

DAVID HOCKNEY'S ART SCHOOL DAZE Part 23

DAVID HOCKNEY’S NYMPHOMANIAC COUSIN KATE

The end of the academic year was now at hand, and London was beginning to put on her gayest clothing. In one South Kensington lodging Miss Katie Winter and her cousin Mary are sitting. They have been in London during the greater part of the day, having posted up from Yorkshire; but they have only just come in, for the younger lady is still in her bonnet, and Miss Winter's lies on the table. The windows are wide open, and Miss Winter is sitting at one of them; while her cousin is busied in examining the furniture and decorations of their temporary home, now commenting upon these, now pouring out praises of London.

"Isn't it too charming? I never dreamt that any town could be so beautiful. Don't you feel wild about it, Katie?"

"It is the queen of cities, dear. But I know it well, you see, so that I can't be quite so enthusiastic as you."

At this moment the door opened, and Mr. David Hockney introduced himself.

The RCA drag had passed along shortly before, bearing the soccer eleven home from a triumphant match. As they came past The Serpentine, Derek Boshier cried out:

"Now, boys, keep your eyes open, there must be plenty of lionesses about;" and thus warned, the whole load, including the cornopean player, were on the look-out for lady visitors, profanely called lionesses, all the way back to the college. They had been gratified by the sight of several walking in Hyde Park, before they caught sight of Miss Winter and her cousin. The appearance of these young ladies created a sensation.

"I say, look! up there in that first floor."

"By George, they're something like."

"The sitter for choice."

"No, no, the standing-up one; she looks so saucy."

"Hello, Hockney, do you know them?"

"One of them is my cousin," said Hockney, who had just been guilty of the salutation which excited the indignation of the younger lady.

"What luck!--You'll ask me to meet them - when shall it be? Tomorrow at breakfast, I vote."

"I say, you'll introduce me before the ball on Monday? promise now," said another.

"I don't know that I shall see anything of them," said Hockney; "I shall just leave a pasteboard, but I'm not in the humour to be dancing about lionising. Besides and as you know, I prefer men!"

A storm of indignation arose at this speech; the notion that any of the fraternity who had any hold on lionesses, particularly if they were pretty, should not use it to the utmost for the benefit of the rest, and the glory and honour of the RCA, was revolting to the postgraduate mind. So the whole body escorted Hockney to the door of the lodgings, impressing upon him the necessity of engaging both his lionesses for every hour of every day around the RCA, and left him not till they had heard him head upstairs and speak to the young ladies. They need not have taken so much trouble, for in his secret soul he was no little pleased at the appearance of creditable ladies, more or less belonging to him, and would have found his way to see them quickly and surely enough without any urging. Moreover, he had been really fond of his cousin, years before, when they had been boy and girl together.

So they greeted one another very cordially, and looked one another over as they shook hands, to see what changes time had made. He makes his changes rapidly enough at that age, and mostly for the better, as the two cousins thought. It was nearly three years since they had met, and then he was an undergraduate at art school and she still in her late-teens too. They were both conscious of a strange pleasure in meeting again, mixed with a feeling of shyness and wonder whether they should be able to step back into their old relations.

Mary looked on demurely, really watching them, but ostensibly engaged on rosebud trimming. Presently Miss Winter turned to her and said, "I don't think you two ever met before; I must introduce you, I suppose; my cousin David Hockney, my cousin Mary."
 
"Then we must be cousins, too," said Hockney, holding out his hand.

"No, Katie says not," she answered.

"I don't mean to believe her, then," said Hockney; "but what are you going to do now, tonight? Why didn't you write and tell me you were coming?"

"We have been so shut up lately, owing to papa's bad health, that I really had almost forgotten that you were at London."

"By the bye," said Hockney, "where is uncle?"

"Oh, he is dining with an old college friend of his. We have only been up here three or four hours, and it has done him so much good. I am so glad we spirited him up to coming."

"You haven't made any engagements yet, I hope?"

"Indeed we have; I can't tell how many. We came in time for luncheon at The Slade. Mary and I made it our dinner, and we have been seeing sights ever since, and have been asked to go to I don't know how many luncheons and breakfasts."

"What, with a lot of stuffed shirts, I suppose?" said Hockney, spitefully; "you won't enjoy London, then; they'll bore you to death."

"There now, Katie; that is just what I was afraid of," joined in Mary; "you remember we didn't hear a word about gang bangs or orgies all the afternoon."

"You haven't got invitations to any sex parties, then?" said Hockney, brightening up.

"No, how shall we get them?"

"Oh, I can manage that, I've no doubt." What Hockney didn’t add was that he’d actually been ordered by his top R. B. Kitaj to send a couple of girls along to a regular sex party run by a straight friend of the gay BDSM couple. What Hockney had to ensure was that neither of the girls caught sight of him with Kitaj before their date with destiny, so that they wouldn't recognise the sadist when they encountered him at the sex party.

“Gets us invited to as many sex parties as you can!” the two women chanted in unison. “We like rubbing our pussies against the bits of other chicks, but we love fucking guys too!”

“I like doing it with men best!” Hockney confessed, hoping the two lionesses would fall into the trap he was setting.

“Well we’re not fag hags!” Katie announced just as her cousin had hoped. “So maybe you can find us a regular party to go to, while you do your man thing elsewhere.”

Hockney claimed to know of several straight sex parties he had no interest in attending, as well as the passwords to get in. This was half-true and half-a-lie. The assertion that he knew about the parties was true, the bit about not wanting to go to them wasn’t! A few days later he sent Katie and Mary off to an expensive house near Epping Forest. He didn’t tell them that he’d be there too. He pulled this prank because Kitaj had ordered him to do so.

"Good evening," said Katie, smiling, when the door was answered. "I'm Katie and this is Mary. My cousin David Hockney asked us to come along to this party."

The geezer nodded. "He told us to expect you, but I thought you’d be older. No offence, but I trust the two of you do have proof of age?"

"No offence taken. It's always nice when someone knocks a few years off our age," purred Katie. "Yes, we both have ID."

After checking the passports the girls proffered, the bloke whistled: "Okay. Come along this way."

He led them through the house and into an extensive yard. More a landscaped park than a yard, thought Mary, looking around.

"If you care to wait here," they were told, "things will begin shortly. Actually, if you wait outside that window over there you can hear the gentlemen being given their instructions. Then you'll know exactly when they're coming out."

Watching the man return inside, Katie and Mary looked at each other. Katie shrugged. "Let's go listen," she said.

The girls crossed over to the window. It was slightly open and they could hear a low buzz of voices. There appeared to be half a dozen men in the room. They'd only been waiting a minute when there was a tapping sound and the voices died away.

"All right, gentlemen," a voice announced. "Hockney has sent a couple of nice young ladies over so the competition can begin. Tonight we are having a rape night. The first man to catch one of the girls has her, but only the first man. To lend some realism to this, the girls have been promised a large bonus if they can make it through to midnight without getting caught and screwed.

The bonus is big enough that the girls will do whatever it takes to keep their panties on. We're giving the girls ten minutes to make themselves scarce, and after that, good hunting."

"Katie, we've got to get out of here," said Mary.

"You're fucking telling me," gasped Katie. "Come on."

The two girls dashed along the side of the house to find a tall gate. Locked. One look was enough to tell them that their chances of climbing it were slim. Back to the other side of the house, where they found a similar situation.

"Why don't we knock on the door and explain we were tricked into coming here by your cousin?" wailed Mary.

"And what if whoever answers the door is taking part and promptly jumps one of us?" replied Katie. "Let's see if there's a back way out. Maybe we can climb the fence."

The yard, they found was very large. It took them several minutes to find their way through to the back fence. One look and their hearts sank.

"Who the hell puts barbed wire on their fences?" asked Katie with some bitterness. "Totally uncalled for."

The sound of a banging door and male laughter came floating through the air.

"Katie, what do we do?" hissed Mary, keeping her voice low. "If they catch us they're not going to believe we're not the women they think. They think we're prostitutes."

"Hide," snapped Katie. "It's our only chance. We can't hope to avoid them by just running and dodging. Pick a spot and stay hidden."

The girls split up, heading for different bushes to hide in. Katie, in a fit of ingenuity, chose a small shrub standing in a patch of lawn. Lying down, she curled up in a ball around the trunk, the shadows effectively hiding her from sight. She would, she thought, be safe. The bush looked too small for anyone to hide behind.

Mary, meanwhile, squeezed between two larger bushes and crouched down. Hopefully no one would see her there.

Footsteps passed close to the two girls, and they could see the flash of torches. That was cheating, in Mary's opinion, but then again, no one had asked her what she thought about the rape game or its rules.

From where she crouched, Mary could see Katie's little bush. Several times men passed close to it, a couple of them running their torches over it without seeing Katie. A case, Mary thought, of not seeing her because they didn't expect her to hide under such a small bush.

After a while the search drifted away to other parts of the grounds, with much grumbling from some of the men, who had apparently expected an easy catch.

Even knowing where Katie was, Mary couldn't spot her. She gave a sigh of relief. It looked as though they might just get away clean.

R. B. Kitaj had been standing quietly, torch off, listening. He was fairly certain that the paler patch between the bushes was one of the girls, but he'd waited for a little privacy before acting. Now, hearing the faint sigh, he smiled and moved forward.

The first indication Mary had that she was not alone was when a hand closed over her mouth and she was pulled out of the bushes.

"I suggest you don't scream," said a quiet voice. "You don't really want the rest of the men coming to watch, now do you?"

Well, no, she didn't, but she didn't want this man, either.

"Listen," she said, as soon as she was able to speak. "There's been a mistake. We were sent here by the cousin of my friend Katie. He’s a raging faggot and was upset we didn't wanna go to one of his male sex parties. He must have done it as a prank."

There was a snort of cynical laughter. "You didn’t know what sort of party this was and just came along because someone suggested it?"

"Yes," gasped Mary. "Honest. We thought it'd be fun."

"The bonus can't be that large if that's the best you can come up with," came the dry comment.

With that, Mary felt her dress being pulled up. She started struggling, finding the man far too strong. Kitaj ruthlessly stripped off her dress, tossing it to the side.

"You want to take the rest off?" he asked.

Choosing to try and run, Mary turned and bolted, getting about one step before a hand latched onto her arm.

"Prefer me to do it, I guess," came a laughing remark, and Mary found herself firmly held while bra and panties were removed and she was pushed down onto the grass.

Mary was appalled at the ease with which Kitaj was handling her. Her struggles were just completely ignored. He casually caught her wrists and held them in one hand while he stroked her breasts. When he relaxed his hold on her for a moment, it was only for the purpose of undoing and dropping his trousers.

She would not let him just take her, decided Mary. Several boys had found she just wouldn't open her legs. He'd just be another one. Her resolve took a nasty hit when he slipped his foot between her ankles and gently moved her legs apart. Why was she feeling so weak and helpless? She should be able to keep her legs together, damn it. Not so, it appeared. He eased her legs further apart, and she weakly let him.

Then he was leaning over her, slowly lowering himself onto her. She felt his erection pressing against her, then it was sliding smoothly into her while she cursed herself for not fighting.

This was rape, damn it. She'd just lie there and let Kitaj see what fun he could get from a wooden lump. She groaned when she felt herself pushing up to meet him. Didn't she have any self-respect? How could she cooperate while he raped her in this fashion?

Quite easily, it turned out.

Kitaj, who Mary didn't know from Adam, started driving into her hard and fast. He moved smoothly and Mary found herself following his lead as though they'd done this a thousand times before. Perhaps he had; the stray thought crossed Mary's mind. At least, if she had to be raped, she was being taken by someone who knew what he was doing.

Mary gasped, her body happily meeting the strange cock that now had control of her. He pushed into her, sending exciting vibrations racing through her. He hammered her, going on and on, taking her, pumping her, having his fun from her. And Mary went with him, pushing eagerly up to meet him as he repeatedly demonstrated his mastery of her body.

The entire time, a little corner of Mary's mind was wailing, this is so unfair. He shouldn't be able to treat me like this. It's just not right.

Right or wrong, Mary was being comprehensively ravished. Hands mauled her breasts, matching the beat from below. Lips roughly kissed her, sucking on her neck. She was going to have marks there the next day, she just knew it.

Kitaj was moving faster now. Mary could feel her heart beating faster, trying to keep up with the rhythm being forced upon her. Her blood was running hot and she was taking shuddering breaths. Rational thought had deserted her, leaving her at the mercy of her instincts and her instincts were all screaming yes, ride him like the big dipper at the fun fair, or better yet liked a jockey determined to win the Grand National!

Her climax when it came was not a surprise, but an immense relief. She'd have died if he'd finished without seeing her through. As it was, it merely felt like she'd died simply to rise again on the third day like some mythical son of god, before ascending to heaven.

"What now?" she asked when she had finally gathered her wits.

"Now we go inside and wait until your friend gets caught or midnight comes," she was told. "If she's good, we have a couple of hours to wait."

The time passed interminably slowly. Eventually Mary was roused from where she'd been sitting, just nodding off into a dream in which she was the first amphibian to crawl from the sea and feel the warmth of the sun on her skin.

"It looks like your friend was lucky or skilled," she was told. "No one has found her. Do you know where she is?"

Mary nodded.

"Then why don't we go out there and break the happy news. She scores her bonus."

Relieved on Katie's behalf, Mary returned to the yard.

"Ah, where were we when you caught me?" she asked.

"This way," she was told and Mary shortly found herself by a pair of familiar looking bushes.

"Over under that small bush," she said, pointing. "You can come out now, Katie. It's gone midnight."

There was a muffled groan, and Katie writhed out from under the bush. A few more groans and she was in an upright position, rubbing cramped muscles.

"I saw you get caught, Mary," she muttered. "I'm sorry. It was all my fault."
 
Mary shrugged. "These things happen. I just want to get out of here. But I did enjoy the shag in the end. Do you think I sound like some misogynist male writer? One who in their sexist delusions believes women want to be raped?"

"You do rather,"Katie agreed. "If I saw your words in a story I wouldn't for a minute believe they came from a woman's mouth, but then as you know truth is stranger than fiction!"

Turning to her escort, Mary asked Kitaj if he could show them out.

"Well, I would," he said, "but it appears that I've made a slight mistake with the time. It's still fifteen minutes to midnight. Hello, Katie. I'm very pleased to meet you."

“I can see that because I know that isn’t a gun in your pocket!” Katie snapped. “But let’s go inside to fuck, it will be so much more comfortable. And in case you're wondering I'm psychic and right now I'm channelling the words a male writer placed on what in the future will be called an internet forum, but of course when he did so this bozo was pretending to be a woman!"

"Beyond your desire to get up close and naked indoors, I can't understand a word you're saying. I suspect, Katie, that you're completely off your rocker!"

"Well you would say that!" Katie spat. "After all you're a typical misogynist bore. However, you're also rather cute, so I do fancy taking a tumble between the sheets with you! It's your body rather than your IQ that turns me on!"

There were two beds in the room Kitaj led the girls into. Our anti-hero David Hockney was already in one stark naked and grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. Katie got into the other bed. Hockney slid over to his cousin's bed and started to kiss Katie, as Kitaj had instructed him to do. He was hot and hard, it wasn't long before her T-shirt was gone and Hockney was whispering in her ear about how badly he wanted to fuck her.

Kitaj said he wanted to watch the kissing cousins get it on from the shadows in the doorway. Katie wondered whether Mary would watch her and Hockney get it on, or if she'd rather just rest on the other bed with her back turned to them. Just then Katie felt something brush her hand. Before she knew what was happening Mary was in the bed with the two cousins whispering dirty talk in both their ears.

The erection, which was still pushing against the lace between Katie’s legs, wasn't wasted. Katie had to make a decision fast before her brain took over and reminded her Mary was – like Hockney – her cousin.

Katie lent in and whispered to Hockney to kiss Mary, at the same time she put her hand in Mary’s silky hair and guided her towards Hockney’s face. As soon as they'd finished kissing, Mary lent in to kiss Katie, letting him know the girls were going to enjoy each other, not just him.

Mary was soon rolled gently onto her back so that Katie could help Hockney undress her, pulling her satin shorts off while he kissed her breasts and pulled the top over her head. They both took a second to take in the sight of Mary lying there naked, her full round tits revealed, skin as smooth as silk, her pussy neatly shaved with just a thin strip pointing the way to the pleasure hole they now knew they were both going to enjoy.

And then they turned their attention to Katie. Mary struggled up and got on top of her, kissing her hard, pulling back just far enough for Hockney and Kitaj to see their tongues exploring each other's mouths. And then Katie felt Hockney pulling at the black lace that held her tits in, gently exposing her D cup breasts which now sat right under Mary's. Mary slid to the side so Hockney and Kitaj could see Katie’s tits properly. She was kissing Katie’s neck and teasing her nipple with her fingers, as Hockney's tongue found its way to the same place. Then Katie felt Mary’s hands take over her slow strip, her last shred of modesty removed as Mary tugged at the lace between her legs and gently pushed them open to show Hockney her pussy.

Mary forced Katie’s legs all the way open, looking up to make sure Hockney could see what she had exposed for him, as if this throbbing pussy was a gift from her. Katie found it amazingly sexy to be lying there with her shaven pussy completely exposed, being offered to a relative she’d known all her life by another woman. Hockney licked Katie’s love button, and before long she felt a new tongue lapping gently at her clit, fresh fingers pushing slowly inside. Katie looked down and sure enough it was Mary who was now sucking and kissing her slowly for Hockney and Kitaj’s viewing pleasure. Hockney was behind and above her, clearly enjoying the sight of Mary giving Katie girl-on-girl oral sex, at the same time slowly sliding his fingers in and out of her cunt.

Katie’s pussy was on fire and she wanted more than Mary's fingers inside her. Gently Katie pulled Mary away from her and sat up, kissing her deeply on the mouth and licking around her lips seductively so she would know she wasn't finished with her. Hockney was rock hard after licking Katie’s pussy and watching Mary do the same, while Kitaj was standing in the shadows flogging himself off.

The two girls pushed Hockney onto his back and Katie slid all the way down onto his hard cock. As she began sliding back and forth, taking him balls-deep into her smoothly shaved pussy, Mary knelt with one leg either side of his head and lent forward to kiss Katie, rubbing her  nipples at the same time. The view from where Hockney lay must have been incredible.

Before long Hockney stiffened as he pumped his first load of cum deep into Katie, crying out loudly as he did so; and sounding for all the world like a cock frantically attempting to outrun a fox in a chicken coup. Mary came up behind Katie and lifted her from Hockney's still-hard cock, pulling her down so that they both faced up with their legs wide open, again giving Hockney a full view of two soaking wet pussies.

Mary reached down and placed her just-licked fingers into Katie’s cunt. Katie started to stroke her tits, drawing slow circles around her own nipples, for her own pleasure and that of the three pairs of eyes watching her. Katie was so close to orgasm that it was only moments later that she felt her pussy tighten around Mary’s fingers and the world slid out of focus as DNA scrambled and unscrambled itself across the muscular structure of her bulk. Katie really dug the feeling of letting herself disappear completely into the throes of her own orgasm. The fact that Hockney and Kitaj were looking on as she did so made the pleasure even more intense!

Hockney kissed girls, ending up in a three way kiss with all their tongues lapping at each other, and with the taste of Katie’s cunt in all their mouths. Katie decided it was time to use Mary's beautiful body to give Hockney and her some pleasure. She pulled the tie Hockney had been wearing from the back of the chair and bound Mary's wrists tightly together above her head, while she kissed her cousin's beautiful round tits.

When Hockney bent over to get a good look at Mary’s pussy, Katie knelt underneath him and pulled Mary up onto her knees so they could both slide their tongues down the shaft of his cock, carrying on into an all-girl kiss as they reached the tip. They continued to share Hockney's length until the pre-cum dripping from their mouths told them it was time to fight over his erection, and he lay down to enjoy the blow job.

The two girls greedily sucked Hockney’s pork sword into their mouths one after the other, competing to get closest to the bottom of his shaft. Then Katie left Mary pulling him deep into her throat while she sucked his balls into her gob and began to lick and suck them, running her tongue around in circles and moaning gently, knowing the vibration would drive him wild.

When Hockney had enjoyed these oral attentions for as long as he could take it, he pushed both girls back onto the bed, laying them out next to each other, legs open, and knelt back trying to choose which love hole he wanted. It was no surprise that he decided to try Mary first, he'd already had Katie once and the other girl's beef curtains were still new to him, and sopping wet.

Next Hockney's hand found it's way to the back of Katie’s head, pushing her towards Mary’s slit to prepare her for him, as if she needed any more foreplay, she was already dripping with cunt juice. Katie obliged anyway, since she enjoyed the taste of pussy and was keen to please Hockney and Kitaj. As Mary started to moan under Katie’s tongue, Hockney moved his cousin away from her front fun hole, and moved into position between her satin smooth legs.

Katie guided Hockney all the way in, and she opened up around his love muscle as he gasped in pleasure. Hockney was soon pumping his shaft deep into Mary, his cock disappearing into her and reappearing covered in her love juice. He cried out. Even Kitaj could see Hockney’s legs trembling as he drove down into Mary again and again.

Then Hockney guided Katie down on top of Mary, face up so she was spread out for his visual pleasure while he was still pumping Mary's quim. He pulled out of her and thrust quickly into Katie, then after a few strokes inside his cousin he yanked his manhood outta her and drove his huge cock back inside Mary.

Hockney carried on like that, going from one to the other whenever he felt the urge, keeping both girls on the brink of orgasm. Katie could feel Mary's breasts pushing against her back while Hockney fucked both of them. Before long Katie reached down and rubbed her clit until she came again, even harder than the first time. It felt like an action replay of the first star exploding as the big bang created our universe. Every inch of Katie’s skin tingled against Mary's as they both enjoyed being Hockney's filthy little fuck sluts.

Mary put her still-bound hands on Katie’s breasts and began to knead them, holding on tight as Hockney drove her towards release. She wasn't far behind Katie. After a further eighty-three seconds of shagging, she went rigid as the tidal wave of orgasm hit her like a storm tossed sea breaching land defences. Katie turned her head to kiss Mary and the girl came on Hockney's pork sword, her body wracked by a tsunami of spasms.

All of this felt amazing to Hockney, and he was putting maximum effort into holding back his own orgasm. As soon as Mary stopped shaking he pulled out of her and made both girls get on their knees, heads together, mouths open. He shot hot wet semen over both their faces, into their open gobs, rubbing it in to their skin as they kissed each other, wiping his cock inside their mouths when he was finished. They both licked him clean, fighting over his cock one last time, as Kitaj also brought himself off, shooting his load all over the bedroom floor!