Just A Piece of Ass

Sam and Jerry buzzed first, a couple of good lads to mind the doors, and I let them in, paid them half up front like you do, and went back upstairs and sat back to wait.

Johno and Phil came first, they shared a taxi and then the others, twenty guests came from twenty two invitations and not a female among them.

I kept Candice's "Room" locked, they ate nibbles drank champagne, took the piss out of my paintings, mainly bank buildings from the 1970's in an Edwardian street scene, corny maybe but they sold well to banks seeking that image of solidity, even if they didn't exist in 1910!

I wound up the sound, played Amarillo, Abba Do, Abba the Album, Abba's greatest hits, Abba the crap stuff a compilation, you know the stuff, all Elton Johns good stuff, I mixed that myself it only lasted thirty seconds, which really got them in a party mood and then I climbed up to the lap-top and clicked "Enter," starting the cameras, web cams and the digital cameras one click, one picture, every five seconds.

I took a big breath and started my speech, using the radio mike over the sound system from the stage, "Good evening, thank you, Blah Blah Blah Blah," I droned on. I don't remember much of what I said, as my heart was beating so loudly and my legs felt like like jelly, I didn't usually suffer from nerves but this was different.

"I invited you here tonight to see Candice's Crosby's latest work," I said, and sensed a ripple of interest spreading around the room, "She's still seeking a title but it's so avant gard that it cannot be pigeon holed, is it performance art, or sculpture," I asked and paused briefly, "It certainly can't be displayed at the tate modern nor performed at the London Palladium," I laughed, no one else did, "But here it is," I said as I approached the old white wooden cupboard.

"Miss Candice Crosby's unnamed work." I announced and I lifted off the cupboard to show Candice, at least her back, her naked buttocks, the neat ridge of her spine and below it her ass, suspended in space all sweet and available, and just the right height for comfortable stand up fucking, or at least so I hoped.

There was a stunned silence, they simply didn't expect to be confronted by a naked torso sticking out from a wall and they didn't know how to react, I started speaking into the mike again.

"Just a Piece of Ass', or 'Wall Woman', are two suggestions for a title," I explained, "But please write any suggestions on the wall or across her back using the felt tip pen provided," I picked it up and showed them, "And I'll erect a screen in a moment in case anyone wishes to use it, but," I emphasised, "Please, please, please use a condom."

I stood aside to stunned numbed silence, and switched off the mike and put it in my back pocket while around the room un eaten sausage rolls were set down, and half empty champagne glasses were forgotten as all eyes turned on Candice.

"Is she real!" someone asked.

"Of course she's real!," someeone else replied, "Who is she?"

"A genuine Kings Cross whore," I assured them, "The real thing, she charges twenty extra for anal," I explained, "but bent at that angle she can't do anything else." It was a joke, but no one laughed

"Hell John, what is she on?" Richard Pandle asked seriously.

"Vallium," I suggested, "Don't fotget the condoms!"

There was a ripple of nervous laughter. At last.

The champagne had flowed more thoroughly than I realised, "What's up, can't get it up, Rich?" Simon Yardley asked.

"Well, not with an audience." Dick Lewis replied.

"I'll put the screen round," I offered and I spread out the metal and canvas screen behind Candice's exposed back and ass.

"Ok, hold my glass," Richard agreed, and he stepped behind the screen.

"Use plenty of lube," I said, "Anal is twenty extra."

"Well," he said after a rasping zipper and rustling of trousers being lowered, "I certainly can't do anything else."

"Leave a twenty for her then," I suggested and I laughed, how was I to know he thought I was serious? I picked up a glass of champagne and a plate of nibbles and slipped away to see Candice face to face, and once through the side door to Candice's room I quickly closed and bolted the door behind me.

She was staring wildly at me as Richard lubed her up, I saw later when I replayed the tapes that he was using a pot of lube and a condom clad finger, rather than her fancy applicator, and her face contorted as he brutally forced his condom clad manhood up her tight brown hole,

Her face and head jerked with his exertions, even though her neck was held immobile by the foam, she just stared pleadingly, I smiled, a friendly smile I hoped, not a twisted one.

"It's all right, he's rubbered up," I reassured her, "It's fine." I watched the TV screen, 'Dancing on Ice' was on, "It's so funny, so unreal!" I chuckled.

Obviously she didn't think so, an unseen unknown man was inside her, raping her ass, entirely without her agreement, a man who could see not a woman, not a girl, not a whore but just an anonymous torso, a back, an ass, an asshole to fuck, somewhere to shoot a load, the ultimate convenience, always available, the next step beyond a glory hole.

She wanted to say something, she wanted me to release her ball gag but I kissed her cheek instead, "It's ok." I said but she convulsed, coughed behind the gag and I knew he was forcing himself deep inside her, and I watched her head move to the rhythm as he started to hump her.

"It's only sex," I said, "Relax."

I waited for the cycle to repeat, lube, enter, hump, cum, watching her expression, annoyance, pain, resignation, annoyance, perhaps at the fact she felt pleasure as he pumped and jerked inside her then relief as he pulled out, and then I kissed her

I hadn't thought through the idea of kissing her, her head was down where it needed to be up and it was uncomfortable for both of us as I fastened my mouth round the bulge of the ball gag for an open mouth kiss.

Her eyes betrayed her confusion, not the hatred I expected but genuine confusion, how couod I be so tender while someone else raped her, at least that's what I hoped she thought.

I had a surprise for her, three tiny web cams, and channel 99 on the TV remote was web cam feed, so I changed channels until it showed her back, and also the back of the guy fucking her, and two views of the room, three panels across the screen, and there in the centre, centre stage so to speak, was Desmond Manders, busily fucking her ass and he was certainly going for it his pink ass bobbling up and down as his shaft piston-ed in and out of her.

"Where are my manners, would you like a drink?" I asked Candice.

She shook her head, "You must be thirsty, champagne?" I suggested but again a shake of the head, "Sausage on a stick?" I asked, again a shake.

"Perhaps later?" I asked, she nodded and then the tension in her seemed to seep away.

Rich was pulling out, I could see him on TV, using a tissue, discarding the condom, wiping himself, it was time to go, I punched the buttons of the handset taped to her hand and flicked back to channel 3 and then she shuddered again.

I turned back to the web cam feed, the screen was gone now, a queue had formed, all her lovers from uni, those gallery owners who professed to like her work, I think I had just about the full set, and all queueing up to screw her, I did the math, three minutes each, two for a change over, One hour forty minutes of continual fucking, oh lord would she be sore in the morning.

"Sausage Roll?" I asked.

She nodded, it was a ploy to get her ball gag removed, I knew that, but I went along with it.

"Please!" she said as soon as she could speak, "I'll do anything!"

"I know you will, no matter how depraved," I suggested and I pushed a small sausage roll in her mouth, and to my surprise she began to chew it.

"Please," she spluttered through the crumbs, "Make them stop!"

"It's only your friends," I assured her, "Your little fuck buddies from Uni, Steve, Johno, Phil, all those so called friends of ours, remember?"

"John!" she protested.

"You said it was just sex, well now it is," I said as Icily as I could manage, "But this time it's sort of reversed, I know who's fucking you behind your back, while you," I left the complex concept hanging in the air.

"Who else, just?" she asked, breaking off before naming lovers I may have remained ignorant about.

"Algy, Sol, oh yes Jerimiah, yes the great Jerimiah Blakeney, he got you the big exhibition didn't he, lured you away to the festering rat hole of London with his empty promises," I reminded her, "And what happened to your glittering career when he got tired of screwing you?"

"That's not fair, I had a lot of interest." she said.

"You have now, they are admiring your ass," I pointed out bluntly, "Oh my look someone is groping your tits, I wonder who it is?" she looked at the TV screen, the man's head was down as he stood beside her as behind her Graeme, "Stingy," Singeon began to work his penis up her anus.

"My god old Stingy is poking you now," I said, "You'll give the poor bastard a heart attack!"

"You get used to it." she said, when she finally swallowed the last of the sausage, "Being fucked over," she licked her lips, "Can I have a drink please?" she asked. I held the champagne for her, she couldn't really lift her head enough but she slurped some. "As you see, I can shut my mind," she said, "It means nothing."

"So you approve of this as a work of art?" I asked.

"Your best yet, actually, no, it's the only, ah, bloody hell," she said as 'Stingy' got energetic, "The only half decent thing you have ever done." she said and added with a flourish, "More Champagne please."

I kissed her lips, I nearly broke my neck getting into position and I turned the web cam feed on again and watched as the next guy lined up with the line stretching away behind her. Charles Blakeney, Jerimiah's cousin, he had to be sixty, greying balding overweight, "He promised me an exhibition too." she said, "Bastard!"

"I think they all screwed you." I observed.

"And the rest." she said, "Or do you mean professionally?"

"Art world screwed." I suggested, Harry, Phil, Steve, Johno, Algy, Sol, all that lot?"

"Yes," she agreed, "Sorry."

"Hey don't be sorry, we're nearly even." I reassured her, "After tonight the slate's clean."

"Yours may be, I won't rest until you're dead." she assured me.

"Well fuck you then!" I snapped, and I dropped my pants. She laughed, my manhood must have looked funny nestling there like some albino vole but when I held it so it started to respond, I think her laughter started it swelling, and then with a few tugs at the loose skin it was rearing again, six inches plus poking up at forty five degrees.

"Cyalis?" she asked.

"No vitamins, like I told you I was anaemic, all those bloody awful." I looked at her, she was trying to be quiet but she was gasping with every stroke as the unseen cock banged into her, "Look I'm sorry I was crap in bed, we'll have a room like this in our studio so you can get what you need," I said awkwardly.

"John Meadows I do believe you proposed we get back together when someone else was having anal sex with me!" she gasped, "That's so funny, oh John, how could I possibly refuse!" she laughed, and looked at me, and absolutely deadpan she said, "A blow job is still fifty."

It was hopeless, I couldn't get close enough to put it in her mouth, I needed a little platform a few bricks, a pile of newspapers, something to stand on but there was nothing.

"You always get something wrong John," she said, "Always some detail, or."

But something more sinister was wrong, on the screen, unrest, an argument, beyond the wall, on the screen in the left hand panel, "Looks like trouble!" I said and I bolted for the door, the second door, the exit leaving the entry door locked, and there was a very angry trouser-less Darren Rourke holding a worried looking and equally trouser-less Frazer McInnes by his collar.

"You filthy bastard," he said drunkenly.

McInnes looked embarrassed, "You wanked over my foot Rourke complained in an Irish accent which sounded more south London by the second, "You filthy bastard!"

There were four of them, pants round their ankles I realised, just out of web cam shot, wanking as Algy Acort fucked Candice's ass, excited by his relentlessly pistoning penis rhythmically banging into her brown hole, making her whole body rise and fall with his violence, making her sway from side to side, making the foam around her arms, legs and neck flex, split, crack.

I stopped for several heartbeats mesmerised by the scene, Algy had his tailored pin striped trousers and green and white checkerboard underpants around his highly polished black shoes, his white shirt tail covered his ass and he was really going for it, banging and slamming into her sweat pouring from his brow, banging thrusting, forcing with all the energy of a thirty five year old ex rugby player, and round him in that semi circle were Franck Havers, Don Reeves, Lou Tranter and Desmond Jenkins, tools in hand wanking as if mesmerised.

I choked back the vomit, I expected many outcomes but never this, I wanted to humiliate Candice the way she humiliated me but this had gone far beyond anything I had imagined, and tangentially, why the hell had I not stopped to think, of course, half of these guy were intrinsically fundamentally gay.

"You wanked over my foot Rourke complained again, "You filthy bastard!" and he clumsily swung a punch at McInnes, he missed, I have no idea how he missed at such short range, he looked embarrassed.

"There's some of that magic cleaner around somewhere," I ventured, "Accidents happen." not the brightest thing to say but it worked, "There's some Guiness in the fridge," I added.

Acort was ready for the final flourish, he stopped, pulled out, threw the shit soiled condom in the bin and then exploded greyish cum all up Candice's back.

I was going to take them in to Candice's room one at a time to make them apologise for treating her like a piece of ass but that idea fell away as the greyish silver liquid dripping down Candice's spine, seeping down her buttocks and dripping down her legs, she needed a clean up before the next fuck and everything was falling apart.

I grabbed the microphone, switched it on cutting the sounds of Abba's Winner takes it all, replacing it with my laboured breathing, "Phil, Steve, John would you give me a hand, I think you should all say a big thank you to Kinky Kandy from Kings Cross."

They appeared as if magically, I handed out tissues from the box on the shelf beside Candice and Steve cleaned her up as I shoved the microphone in my back pocket and went to explain what was happening to Candice, only to find the door was bolted from inside, damn! I tried the other door but the outside of exit door was smooth, nothing to hold on to but there were hooks screwed into the wall so I unscrewed one and forced it into the door and turned it until it screwed in tightly, "Ok?" I asked as I finally got the door open.

Candice's face peered at me from the wall, "What's happening?" she asked anxiously.

"They want to meet you." I explained, and I left her again.

"Take her weight would you, I'll release her and we can pull her out," I suggested to Steve, Phil and Johno, as the clustered around Candice's naked torso, "Have you got her?"

"Yes, Ok, they agreed so I went back in to Candice's space, I quickly undid her ankle cuffs, and her wrist cuffs, and just left them dangling from the wall on their chains and then I went back outside.

"Will she pull out?" I asked.

I saw them tugging so I went to check on Candice, she screamed, "My Neck!"

I remembered the microphone, and clicked it on, "She's stuck, just a moment," my voice boomed around the room, it was the neck, the foam wouldn't let her nod her head forward far enough to let it slip out, "Can you push her shoulders in?"

"Agghh!" Candice complained but now I could get at the foam which had formed a collar around her neck and I crumbled it away to small individual nodules of foam, "Can you move your head?" I asked.

"Yes," Candice agreed and she nodded.

"Can you pull her back?" I heard my voice boom and then she slid gently back from my view, I sprinted round to see her emerge and I announced "Gentlemen may I present Miss Candice Crosby,"

Phil dropped her leg in shock, but Steve held her upright as Candice's feet touched the floor for the first time in several hours, circular blocks of foam still clung to her arms, legs and around her neck as she turned around to face her public blushing bright red as she did so,

"Just a piece of Ass," I read from the felt pen marks on the wall, and I held the microphone for Candice.

"Just a piece of Ass," she agreed, "Anyone want to buy? a hundred for a short time?" she said "Anal is twenty extra?" Candice stood there, blushing crimson, yet defiant. Circular blocks of foam still clung to her arms, legs and around her neck and she looked at all the people watching her, Harry, Phil, Steve, Johno our friends from University, Algy Acort, Sol Friedman, Jerimiah Blakeney, all art world figures who had pretended to help with her career and the others I had invited all of whom had screwed her physically and or metaphorically.

"That's me, 'Just a piece of Ass," she announced, "Anyone want to buy? a hundred for a short time?" she said "Anal is twenty extra?" and she said it with that old sarcastic spirit which I had so loved about her.

She didn't cry, I expected her to crumble and cry, but she didn't know that ten minutes before four of them had been wanking at the sight of Algy Acort screwing her, she knew over the past hour at least ten of them had screwed her backside, fucked her anus as her ass projected through the wall while her head feet and hands were the other side, and while she had been forced to watch Dancing on Ice on TV, watching C list celebrities perform as unseen penises pistoned up and down in her anus.

No she didn't cry, she crumbled away the builders foam around her arms and legs, I helped her with the foam around her neck, and then quite surprisingly Algy came over, "Sorry," he said, awkwardly, "For everything."

"Shut up," she said, "It's too late for sorry, christ I need a piss." she announced and she walked away.

I watched her go, I remembered her clothes were in the van downstairs , so I followed her, I suggested she use the en suite loo in my bedroom and promised to get her case.

I sprinted down to the basement, checked on the guys minding the doors, opened up my old transit van and grabbed her battered cream case, Candice was in my bedroom when I got back "Happy?" she asked, "Satisfied?"

"Not yet," I smirked, "Can you manage smart?"

"I can try," she said and added, "Just get this damned thing off my neck," referring to the stretchy rubber collar.

She rummaged in her case, she found a knee length tan coloured skirt and a blouse and a light brown jacket, neither smart nor sexy just ordinary, "Hey," I said, "If you toned down the make up."

"Yes," she agreed, but her efforts were wasted, when she was ready almost everyone was gone, there was hardly anyone left, Johno from Uni and Jerimiah Blakeney were talking, Steve was tidying up, "Oh!" Canice exclaimed, "They've all gone!"

"So, John," Jerimiah asked, "Whose idea was this?" he asked me as he fixed me with a icy stare.

"Mine," I said.

"I thought so," he agreed, "It has potential," he said, "It just needs marketing correctly."

"You told them it was my idea," Candice reminded me.

"Ah," Jerimiah agreed, "That's the thing, it does seem more PC if a girl created it," he explained, "And forgive me for saying so, but it was a powerful piece, literally your ass, we all wanted you, your ass, I'm sorry if I gave you false hope over your art but."