Chapter Twenty-Three
Playtime
“You got a paddle in here? I’d like to try a paddle,” Oscar said, as I about fainted from the things I was imagining.
“Oscar, settle down. We can’t take everything that Trick has in that trunk.”
He held up some metal star-shaped items with screws aimed toward the center.
“I don’t even know what these are.”
I walked o’er to have a look.
“What do those do?” I asked Trick.
She took one out of Oscar’s hand and held it in front of her chest.
“Nipple clamp. You screw it on and leave it there to drive a fella crazy—or a gal.”
“Hold on a second,” I said, scratching my chin. Something didn’t make sense. “Do you use these things on the men you bring up here?”
Trick gave me a leer. “It might surprise you to learn how many men like to be taken in hand. And I ain’t lettin’ some stranger tie me up so’s I’m helpless.”
Oscar stared at Trick as if she were some kind of angel.
“Ho-ly,” he said. “That’s amazin’.”
Trick actually blushed, but she looked pleased as punch. “Well, it’s fun. If I can’t have a regular kinda job in this man’s world, at least I can get paid to whip ’em.”
She walked to the trunk and fished around with her hand.
“I ain’t got a paddle exactly, but a lot of ’em like it when I beat ’em with this old thing,” Trick said, pulling out a device about three feet long, made of rattan or some such material, with a wide, flat end of criss-crossed strands.
“What?” I said, laughing. “A rug beater? You’re jokin’.”
I held out my hand for it, and Trick passed it o’er.
Trick watched me with a smirk as I played with the beater, slicing it through the air to make a swooshing sound and trying to imagine it as a spanking aid.
“Goodness. Look at your boy, Jimmy.”
I glanced at Oscar, who was kneeling by the treasure trunk, his gaze locked on the beater in my hand like ’twas the holy grail, his eyes wide and his face flushed. I reckoned he wasn’t embarrassed.
Desire coursed through me at the dazed look on his pretty face.
“Makes a nice slappy sound when it makes contact,” Trick said, perching on the edge of her bed. “And I’ve been told it delivers a good sting.”
Oscar shifted his gaze from the beater in my hand to my eyes. I realized I needed to get him upstairs to the privacy of our bedchamber.
“You got everythin’ you want out of that chest?” I said to Oscar, hoping he’d understand why I’d asked him.
“Yes, sir,” he said, pushing himself to stand, and clutching the riding crop and the nipple clamps to his chest.
“Then let’s leave Trick be so she can rest. I got some things I wanna talk to you about upstairs.”
“All right,” he said, glancing at Trick, who seemed to be trying not to laugh.
“You fellas have yourselves a good night.”
“Oh, we aim to,” Oscar said in a breathless voice, as I took his elbow and nodded to Trick.
“Thanks. We’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
“Not too early. I plan to do some sleepin’ in,” she said. “Bye now. Careful with them things. And remember your safeword,” she said to Oscar with a wink.
Safeword . That was a good thing to call it, I supposed. I hoped he wouldn’t ever need to use it, but ’twas good to have, in case. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.
Well, no more than he wanted me to.
* * * *
We were lucky not to run into anyone else on the way to our room, which was upstairs, along the hall a-ways from Trick’s. When we got inside, and I’d latched the door, I told Oscar to put the things he was holding down on the bed and use the washbasin to clean up a little.
“You don’t want me all dirty and sweaty, then?” he said, shifting his braces off his shoulders and starting to unbutton his shirt.
“Not today. I want you cleaned up and presentable.”
Oscar drew in a breath that whistled through his teeth. “Ho-ly,” he whispered, staring at the spreader bar that I’d tossed to the mattress. “You gonna take me in hand, then?”
“I reckon I am. You wanna try out all this stuff?”
“Sure. Well, maybe we can save the nipple clamps for another day,” Oscar said, eyeing the offending jewelry.
I picked up one of the steel stars and examined it. “Hmm. They sure are pretty.” I glanced at him. “Sure would look nice on you.”
Oscar finished unbuttoning his shirt and drew it off, giving me a stern look as my gaze focused in on one of his pinkish-brown buds.
“Now, you look here, Jimmy Downing. I do want to try out the crop and the”—his breath hitched—“the rug beater and that fancy bar, but I don’t want them nipple clamps yet.”
“All right,” I said, with a grin. “I’ll give you some time to think on it. But I reckon you’d probably enjoy a little pain in that area.”
“You do, do you?” Oscar said, turning to pour some water into the basin and swishing the soap around.
“Oh, I think so.”
Oscar shook his head, as if I’d been the one with my eyes bugged out and my tongue practically hanging out of my mouth in Trick’s room.
He didn’t say anything else, and I sat down on the bed to watch him wash up, enjoying the sight of him swiping the wet cloth o’er his face and behind his ears, then under his arms and across his chest and belly.
The cool water must have felt nice against his skin, sweaty from a day out in the summer heat and sun.
“I think you got a bit of a sunburn, Oscar,” I said, getting up and walking o’er.
He glanced at me and shrugged, continuing on with his washing. I cupped my hand o’er his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on the red skin at the back of his neck.
“You ain’t even washed your hands yet,” Oscar grumbled. “Here I’m gettin’ all cleaned up, and you’re makin’ me dirty again.”
I grinned against his warm skin and pressed my covered erection against his clothed ass. “Oh, I’m aimin’ to get you plenty dirty today, boy.”
Oscar froze, and I heard his breaths get quick. Then he turned right around and lifted the hand holding the wet cloth to circle my neck, as he pressed his whole entire front half against me like a horny barnacle.
“Fuck,” I said, the cold cloth on my neck and the warm man in my arms doing things to my body that made me crazy. “Need to get you naked and o’er my lap.”
Oscar groaned and found my mouth with his, kissing me like his life depended on it. He tasted of whiskey and cheese with citrus afternotes, and my arms wrapped around him of their own accord and held him fast.
“Oh…God…” I panted, letting him feast on my mouth, and plunging my tongue into his when I could. The sounds of our harsh breaths filled the small bedchamber, and we almost knocked the washbowl onto the floor.
“Come on,” Oscar said, “Get washed up so you can take me o’er your knee,” he said, slipping out of my embrace and hastening to the bed, where he laid himself out and started playing with the riding crop, his suspenders hanging down and his hair all messed up and beautiful.
I took a deep breath and grabbed the cloth, wiping myself down as quick as I could manage after stripping off my shirt. When I turned around, Oscar was watching me with a hand down his trousers.
I gave him a stern glance as I strode forward. “That there nubby is mine, Oscar Yates, and you know it. Hands off till I tell you you can touch it.”
Oscar smirked at me as he pulled his hand from his pants and leaned back on his elbows, the leather crop held lightly between the fingers of his right hand. He licked his lips as I moved onto the bed and hovered o’er him, pressing my front against his groin.
He lifted his chin and let me rut against him, bending my head down so I could kiss his neck and nuzzle into his shoulder.
“Oh, you smell like horses and sun-warmed grass,” he said, as the fingers of his free hand came up to weave through my hair.
“So do you,” I murmured. “’Twas a lovely afternoon.”
He shifted beneath me, thrusting his standing nubby against mine. We still had our trousers on. If we hadn’t, this whole thing would be close to being done already. We were both right on the edge.
I took a deep breath and extricated myself from his grasp, as I kneeled up and gazed down on him. He looked so wanton lying there, bare chested and aroused, his hair mussed, the riding crop in his hand.
“Give it me,” I said, holding out my hand for it.
Oscar’s eyes widened, but he passed the crop to me, and I took it, examining it. ’Twas a fine piece of equipment if you were riding a stubborn animal, but otherwise I’d never use it.
Except, of course, in this exact situation.
I backed off the bed and stood up, pointing at Oscar with the crop.
“Lean o’er the edge of the bed, now.”
Oscar made a noise. His eyes went wide then half-lidded as he obeyed me, crawling off the bed and putting himself into the position I’d indicated. The bed was pretty high, so his legs stretched out behind him, and his bare toes found purchase against the floorboards.
“Like this?” he said, stretching his arms above his head and turning his face, so his cheek lay against the bedcovers. He blinked at me all innocent, like he didn’t know the very sight of him was gonna be the end of me.