The guests were leaving the bar in small groups until only Cypress, Tom, and one other man were left. Judging by his lack of exotic costume, Tom assumed he was one of the watchers.
Lady Villalongo came back in to fix them some drinks and left again with a promise to check in later.
Cypress took Tom and their drinks over to one of the sofas, asking, “Still okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Tom scooted close, taking his drink and gulping back a swig. He nearly choked from the amount of alcohol and made a mental note to slow down.
“I’m probably going to ask you at least ten more times,” Cypress confessed, resting his hand on Tom’s leg. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“I’m really okay. I mean, so far, it’s really not that weird.”
“Good.” Cypress kissed his cheek. “Mm, feeling brave enough for a little stroll?”
Tom glanced over at the watcher, noting he was now reading a book. He looked back to Cypress, hoping he’d had enough to drink to steel his nerves for this. “Yeah, I think so.”
“We’ll visit one scene and come right back,” Cypress promised, taking Tom’s hand and helping him stand.
The room spun pleasantly, and Tom clung to Cypress’s side. He was a little tipsy and suddenly laughed. “Wow. Lady Villalongo does not mess around with those drinks.”
“No, she doesn’t. I’m cuttin’ myself off since I have to drive, but you’re welcome to—” Cypress was gesturing to his drink, but Tom had already grabbed it and chugged it. “Help yourself.”
“Ready for our walkabout. Walkaround. Walking.” Tom smiled up at Cypress, unable to stop himself from saying, “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”
“So are you,” Cypress said, kissing him sweetly. “Mm, come on.” He took Tom’s hand and exited the French doors out into the hallway. They went right, wandering to an open parlor where a bit of a crowd had gathered.
Tom didn’t see Fox, but he recognized assless chaps man and a woman in a transparent vinyl gown. Chaps was strapped down to a medical table, his feet in stirrups and spread wide. There was a gag in his mouth, drool running down his face, and he was moaning softly.
Tom heard and saw the crack of Vinyl Gown’s hand coming down with a paddle against Chaps’ tender thighs, and he unconsciously clenched down on Cypress’s hand. “Oh, my God,” he whispered, “that’s… that’s…”
He couldn’t even finish the thought because he had no idea what to say. Everyone was watching with an eerie reverence as the woman kept on paddling the bound man, and Tom’s face was scorching hot.
It didn’t feel like they should be a part of this. It was personal, private, and yet Tom couldn’t look away. He was spellbound as the woman began to unbuckle the man’s chaps and grabbed his cock. She only gave him two short pumps before stopping, and the man whined.
Oh, Tom knew that sweet anguish, the torment of being so close and yet being denied. He leaned against Cypress’s side, whispering, “Is that what I sound like?”
“No,” Cypress replied, whispering playfully back in his ear, “You’re much louder.”
Tom swallowed hard.
Vinyl Gown had put on gloves and now had a metal rod in her hands, slicking it up with lubricant until it was dripping. It was thin with a rounded ball at the end, and it reminded Tom of a nasal aspirator, a tool they used to suction out the nose and mouth of a deceased when they were purging.
He didn’t understand where such a little tool was going—it wasn’t much bigger than a fancy fountain pen, though he’d wager it was a few inches longer—and then Vinyl Gown grabbed Chaps’ hard cock.
“Wait, she’s gonna…?” Tom hissed at Cypress.
“Yes.” Cypress kissed his hair. “Just watch.”
Vinyl Gown began to slowly push the rod into Chaps’ cock, right into his urethra, and he let out a howl of utter bliss. She was fucking his cock with that little rod, and it only took a few strokes before he was coming, his load bubbling out around the metal.
Tom didn’t understand what he was seeing, but he was hot and dizzy, and his cock was hard. He didn’t know people coulddothings like that. He grabbed Cypress’s arm, asking, “Can we go sit down?”
“Of course.”
Back to the bar they went, Cypress dropping Tom off at one of the couches and grabbing more drinks. The watcher with the book was still there, reading his book and paying them no mind.
Tom felt strange, turned on and buzzing all over, and he smiled when Cypress brought him a glass of something brown with ice. A sip revealed it to be bourbon, straight. “Thank you.”
Cypress was drinking a bottle of water, rubbing Tom’s back soothingly. “Mmm, too much?”
