Master
Nick ~ A Christmas Fable
By
Waddie Greywolf
"Don't you know when you offer yourself to
someone to obey him as his slave, you become a slave to your master, the one whom
you must obey?" Romans 6:16
Christmas has
always been a bad time of year for me. I can’t tell you the
number of times I’ve spent Christmas eve in a gay bar by myself, alone,
getting drunker the more sorry I felt for myself. Those times
left a pall over Christmas for me for many years. Until, quite by
accident, I met Beebers. That wasn’t his real name. That
was my pet name for the big man who became my master. His real
name was Billy Bob Duncan. He wasn’t a good looking man but his
attitude, bearing, and self confidence drew me to him like a magnet.
I was working on
a construction job in downtown Los Angeles building the Sheraton-Grande
Hotel. I was a journeyman carpenter and had been with the company
since we broke ground. I noticed twice a week a big man
would come and walk the job site with my boss asking questions and
watching the workers. He was one of the chief concrete inspectors
who checked and approved every major pour. He always wore knee
high boots of some kind and they were always hot looking on
him. He was a man who looked right in a big pair of boots.
For some reason
it excited me every time I saw him on the site. Just the sight of him
would cause me to get an erection and my asshole would start to
drip. At first I thought I got a case of the runs, but when I
cleaned myself it was a clear fluid more like a lubricant or
pre-come. As time went by I caught him watching me and my partner
working. He would stand and watch us for long periods of time
until one day my partner commented about him.
“You know, Jake,
I think he’s interested in you,” my partner Jerry said.
“I’ve noticed
him watching us, but how do you know he ain't looking at you?” I asked.
Jerry called me
Jake. My real name was Jason but he shortened it to Jake. I
didn’t mind. I liked either name. He was a gay man with a
steady lover. They had been together five or six years. He
suspected I was gay, but I never came out to him. He was forever
inviting me to go to a bar with him and his partner. I tried gay
bars for many years and never found anyone I was interested in.
I’d end up going home by myself, frustrated, and jack off time after
time. I was alone and figured I always would be. I couldn't
find what I wanted and wouldn't go with someone just to trick.
To tell the
truth, I didn't really know what I wanted or how to go about finding
out. I knew I was attracted to big ruggedly handsome men like the
concrete inspector at work, but he was just a pipe dream. I
finally gave up on the bars and stayed home a lot. I had a close
circle of friends I could call upon for companionship, but none for
buddy-swap blow-job or a lay-me-down mercy fuck. Days drifted
into months and we were coming to the end of completing the foundations
to the building.
We worked hard
getting the foundations poured within the time schedule of the job and
the company owner threw us a party after work before the Christmas
holidays across the street in the Bonaventure. He pulled out all
the stops and provided food and an open bar. I wasn’t much of a
drinker but enjoyed the food and the camaraderie of my fellow
workers. Jerry punched me in the side and told me to look toward
the door.
There stood the
inspector in his tall boots talking to the owner of the company and
heading for our area to join the party. He started to make me
nervous as he made no bones about looking at me, and I was becoming
convinced as Jerry, it was indeed, me he was interested in. He
sat with some of the iron workers and kept looking over at our
table. Jerry said he was going to invite him over. I
threatened Jerry with his life if he did. Jerry just laughed,
ignored me, and walked over to him and stuck out his hand.
Later, I went to
the bar for another round of drinks and out of the corner of my eye saw
the inspector get up to head there as well.
‘Oh, shit!
What’ll I do if he speaks to me?’ I thought, ‘Settle down, honcho, he
ain't gonna’ bite you,’ I consoled myself.
“Hi,
Jake,” he said like we knew each other and were old buddies.
“Well, howdy,
Mr. inspector,” I held out my hand and we shook. “You know my
name, but I don’t know yours, sir,” I said.
“Billy Bob
Duncan, young man," he replied, "your work partner told me your name a
while ago," he added.
“Good to meet
you, sir. I’ve seen you on the site a number of time, but never
had the occasion to meet you,” I said.
“Yeah, I’ve seen
you a few times, too, and it’s good to finally meet you,” he said.
My drinks came
and I placed them on a small tray the bartender gave me to transport to
the table. I tuned to him and asked him to join us later if he
had the time. He thanked me and I left. He did join, us and
I introduced him around to the other carpenters. He was quiet but
well met with a booming laugh. I liked him. I liked him a
lot and began to feel comfortable in his company.
A couple of
hours went by, and I didn't want to leave his side; however, Jerry rode
to work with me and had to get home to his mate so we said our goodbyes
and left. In the truck on the way home Jerry pulled a small
business card out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Inspector
Duncan gave me this to give to you. Read the back,” he said.
I took the card
from him and read the back. ‘I’ll be at the ‘One Way’ tonight at 9:00
to collect my new slave. You will be there waiting for me.
I need you and you need me. Your new master, Billy Bob Duncan.'
“Now, that’s
hot!” exclaimed Jerry. "Woah! Christmas done come early for my
bubba. Thank ya’ Jay-zus!” he further exclaimed.
“Oh, shut up,
Jerry! You wrote that just to get me out to the bars,” I said.
“Swear to God,
Jake, I didn’t! That's a printed card. I wouldn't go to
that much trouble for a joke. You know damn well that ain’t my
hand writing. Besides, I may laugh with you, but you know I ain’t
mean-spirited. I’d never do that sort of thing to my work
bubba. If you don’t wanna' to go to the bars, that’s your
business. You’re always welcome to go with Stan and me, but we
never insisted,” he said. He was right, they never did.
Needless to say,
I was at the “One Way” at eight-thirty, thirty minutes early.
Jerry and Stan went with me, and I was nervous as a cat on
coffee. Nine O’clock sharp Billy Bob Duncan walked into the bar
wearing more leather than the inside of a new Cardova. He looked
hot. He bought a beer, spotted us and walked over. I shook
his hand and introduced him to Stan. Jerry shook his hand as well.
“Don't be
nervous, son. You look like a young stallion what's about to bolt
for the open country. We’ll have this beer, socialize a bit, then
take off,” he said to me firmly like he was in full control of the
situation.
“Take off to
where, sir?” I asked innocently.
"You read my
card?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, and
I'm here," I replied.
Without another
word, he handed me his beer, reached into his big leather jacket and
brought out a dog collar. As I was holding his beer, he swiftly
but gently put it around my neck like he was bridling me and locked it
in place. His actions caused a lot of people to watch. I
went along with him because somehow it just seemed right for him to be
doing this to me like a wild animal he was planning to tame. He
reached into his other pocket and brought out a leash and clipped it to
the collar. The crowd applauded. I was embarrassed.
Jerry and Stan giggled then patted me on the back and congratulated me.
“You will refer
to me as master, slave. You will become my property and your new
name will be Jason Duncan, understand, slave?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,
Master,” I heard coming out of my mouth with no resistance. I
never considered becoming a slave or playing within the leather crowd;
however, it certainly took care of my earlier question as to where we
were going to go from there. All he had to do was take my leash
and lead me. All I had to do was follow. No guess work
involved. It was simple. My heart was ready to be led
anywhere by the big man. I would have followed him to Dante’s
seventh ring of hell and back. (We made the trip together several
times and had a lovely vacation every time.)
He lead me
everywhere that evening with his leash he hooked onto my collar.
We went from Christmas party to Christmas party and at each he simply
introduced me as his new slave. There were no questions asked,
but I got looked at by a lot of men with obvious envy in their hearts
it was me on the end of his leash and not them. It caused me to
stand a little taller next to my new master and I found myself
beginning to cater to him.
"Still nervous?"
he asked me at one large gathering of leather men.
"Naw, sir, not
as long as you're on the other end of my leash, master," I replied.
"Good, that's
the way you should feel...as an extension of your master," he said and
smiled.
I became his
slave that night, moved in with him the first of the year, and lived
with my master twenty-three years until he passed away. Once
again I was alone. Older and alone. Not a pretty
picture. It was Christmas eve and I was home alone. It was
my first Christmas by myself since my master died.
Christmas was
always a big time of year for my master. We would work for weeks
decorating, making goodies, and having friends in for Christmas
eve. Billy Bob loved people. He had a big generous heart
and an equally generous laugh. He made people comfortable.
I just couldn’t do it this year. I was invited to numerous
parties and went to a few but this was Christmas eve, a time when
Master B. and I would sit in front of the fireplace and get mellow with
each other. He’d put me in my best collar and leash and have me
sit on the floor at his feet, rub my head as I leaned against his big
boots and leather pants. He would sigh a deep sigh and I knew he
was content and his heart was at peace.
One year, toward
the last he made me promise I would keep Christmas in my heart no
matter what happened to him and have a small tree to remember him
by. I was to listen to Christmas music and sit in his favorite
chair by the fire place. I began to think about his final orders
to me and thought if I did as I promised him, was probably the
only way I was going to make it through Christmas eve. Jerry and
Stan insisted I spent Christmas eve with them, but they moved to the
desert, and I didn’t feel like driving out there. Besides, they
needed to be with each other for Christmas eve and they didn't need a
sad eyed puppy for a third wheel.
I started
getting dressed for Christmas eve like I’d done so many times
before. Cleaned myself, inserted my plug, put on my collar and
leash and decided to wear my old leather jacket I wore the night I
first met my master at the ‘One Way.’ I put it on and reached in
the pocket and pulled out a business card with his name on it. I
read again the words he wrote over twenty years ago, but this time
there was a P.S. on the bottom of the card in fresh ink that
read, ’If you keep Christmas as in my memory, you will never be
alone on Christmas eve.’
Someone did this
to me as a joke. It was not a very thoughtful joke. It
struck me as cruel and mean-spirited. I started crying and just
wanted to crawl into bed. In sleep I could find peace and dream
my beloved master was still lying warm by my side, but what the
Hell? I already poured myself an eggnog and lit a roaring fire in
the fireplace--- may as well go in and enjoy the fire until it dies
out. Besides, my master's favorite plug I wore for him was
beginning to feel pretty damn good.
Every Christmas
eve, Master B. read Dickens "Christmas Carol" aloud for us. Each
year he got better until our friends insisted he read it to them,
too. It was the highlight of our holiday. I was so proud of
him. He took good care of me, and I tried to take good care of
him. I was reading Dickens to myself in front of the fire and
must have fallen asleep when all of a sudden there came a knock at the
door. I went to peek out, but there was no one there. I
threw on a robe and opened the door wide but still I could find no one
around. 'Kids,' I thought to myself, as I closed and locked the
door, and returned to the living room.
Sitting in my
master’s chair was an enormous mature man with a small gut, full white
beard, and mustache, with enough leather on to satisfy any hard-core
leather fetish slave. He wore big tall boots that came up to his
thighs, a Master’s harness with cod piece, a heavy leather vest and a
Masters cap. Across his lap he had a leather whip. “Ah,
you’re back, slave! Remove your robe and present yourself to
Master Nick, immediately,” he growled his order like a master who
wouldn't suffer nonsense from any slave readily.
This was too
bizarre. Where did this man come from and how the Hell did he get
in here without me seeing him? I was about to protest when he got
a twinkle in his eye and put a finger to his lips to stifle my
words. I didn’t speak, I just did as the man ordered. As I
approached him I noticed he had a huge leather bag stuffed full of God
knows what. I threw my robe on the sofa, and he looked me up and
down with a very, nasty grin on his face.
“Turn around,
bend over, and spread ‘em, slave!” he barked at me. I immediately
did as Master Nick ordered and held the position until I was told
otherwise. “I see you’ve followed your master’s orders and kept
Christmas this year in his memory, but you didn’t believe the note he
left you in your jacket pocket, did you?” he asked.
“I thought
someone was playing a mean trick on me, Master Nick, did he send you to
be with me?” I asked.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!
Indeed, he did, slave, now stand up, get your ass over here and make
love to Master Nick’s boots. I ain’t got all night! I have
a number of other slaves who have been left alone this Christmas eve I
have to service. Only the ones who have been very good, of
course,” he said with a wicked grin.
I went to his
feet and began cleaning his boots with a passion. I hadn’t tasted
a man’s boots since I cleaned my dead master’s about a week ago.
I had them standing by the fire place thinking about putting them on to
feel my master’s essence. My feet would float in them, but
that only added to my excitement knowing I could never fill my master’s
boots.
“Take my boots
off, slave, and bring me your master’s boots," he ordered.
I helped him off with his huge boots and wondered if my master’s boots
would fit him. I placed the first one in my crotch for him to put
his big foot into. I saw the merriment in his eyes and the smile
on his face that told me he was enjoying me as a slave. “You took
good care of your master, slave, I can tell,” he said.
He pressed his
big foot into my Master’s boots and just before I thought he was going
to crush my balls, his foot magically slipped inside. The boots
fit him like a pair of gloves. He stood up and stomped around in
them to get the feel and for my visual benefit. My dick was
roaring hard at this big man filling my master’s boots. “You did
a good job on my boots, let’s see how good you can clean your master’s
boots,” he ordered and snapped his fingers.
I shed tears at
the taste and flavor of the wonderful man’s boots I licked and cleaned
thousands of times. I closed my eyes and could feel Master B.’s
feet and toes beneath the heavy leather. Master Nick was
chuckling at my ecstasy and hunger. I was devouring my master’s
boots, not for my stomach but for my soul. All of a sudden I felt
his whip come down hard across my ass. It didn’t even startle
me. I was so used to Master Billy warming my ass while cleaning
his boots I just raised my ass higher for Master Nick.
“Ho! Ho! Ho,
slave! You are well trained. Soon as I get your butt all
warmed up I’m gonna’ leave you a present, way up inside your hot little
ass,” he said.
He continued to
beat my ass for a while and got ever harder with his strokes. He
was really warming my ass up good and making it hot. I could feel
my asshole was beginning to drip from self-lubrication.
“There, hit the
position in front of the fire on that bear skin rug,” he ordered.
I did as ordered
and grabbed my legs in my arms. He undid his cod piece and out
flopped one of the biggest Christmas presents I ever saw attached to a
man. He smiled at my surprise. “We want to make sure my
present is placed way up inside you to keep you warm all through his
cold Christmas night, don’t we slave?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,
Master Nick!” I agreed with him.
He popped out my
plug and checked with his gloved fingers to see if I had adequate
lubrication for him. He was satisfied and positioned himself at
my back door. He leaned over me and took me swift and hard to the
base of his big fat dick. I felt his sizable balls slap against
my butt like the clapper on a big Christmas bell.
“Oh, thank you,
Master Nick, you really are a true master to take my ass so hard,
sir. Thank you, sir,” I complimented him.
“Easy, slave,
relax! It’s gonna,’ get better when Master Nick gets you loosened
up, when he gets more of your boy-butt juices flowing, and he starts
rootin’ around up in that tight little slave’s ass. Poor thing,
it needs a grand Christmas opening,” he allowed.
Master Nick
waited until my ass calmed down and then took a couple of small, long,
deep strokes into my butt. Woah, he was as big as a fucking horse
or at the very least, a large reindeer. Then he started to fuck
me seriously. He fucked me every way he knew how and some I never
dreamed of before. He was one Hell of a fucker. He built me
up two or three times and ordered me not to come because he wasn’t
ready to give me my present yet. I held off until it felt like he
was getting ready to put his gift under my tree. He yelled at me
and ordered me to come. I let go of three huge volleys. He
managed to grab one of his huge thigh-high boots and had me shoot on
them. I covered both toes of those big boots with my come.
After I cleaned
him good, helped him back on with his big boots, returned my Master’s
boots to the hearth, and licked my come off his big boots, he settled
back in my master’s big chair with his pipe. He picked up my
book, “A Christmas Carol” and began reading at the exact spot I left
off.
With my ass
tightly re-plugged so I wouldn't lose a drop of his special present, I
gathered myself at his feet with my arms wrapped around his big
boots. Once again, I listened to Dickens’ story as his booming
baritone voice played all the parts. The next thing I knew, I
woke up and was beginning to feel chilled. The fire was almost
out and my head was laying on my master’s boots propped up against his
big chair. I started crying because I realized I was once again
alone. Had it all been just a dream?
I stoked the
fire and was determined not to feel sorry for myself and get another
nog from the kitchen. My ass really felt like it had been
severely fucked, but I dismissed it. Going through the hall I
passed a full length mirror and looked at my ass. It had been
righteously whipped recently and was still glowing more red than
Rudolph’s nose. I poured myself another grog-nog and returned to
the living room.
All the music
stopped, and I heard a loud booming baritone voice, from far way,
“On ye slaves who pull my sleigh, pull ye fast, be swift of flight,
there’s more lonely slave’s hearts to mend this night!” the voice cried
out into the cold night. High above the rooftops they flew, and I
heard as he cracked his big whip and drove his slave's out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all good masters and slaves, and to all...a good
night!"
I didn’t imagine
it. I really heard it. I smiled to myself as I cuddled up
next to my master’s boots. The grog and Master Nick's hot gizz
warmed my insides, the fire warmed me outside, and Master Nick’s whip
warmed my ass to last the night. My ass and my heart were in
perfect accord, it was a good Christmas eve after all; a wonderful
Christmas eve. I knew there would be many more because I was a
good slave. My master told me so.
Waddie Greywolf
~ Christmas ~ 2010
Copyright
2003/2010
Waddie Greywolf