Black as Night II: A Prelude to Christmas by Jon Hold Copyright © 2014, 2016 jonhold@earthlink.net
This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be used without his express permission. Private persons and no others are given permission to have one (1) electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this work. Nifty is given permission to archive this work.
All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a work of fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various ages and conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of the legal age or mindset, go no further but remove this material from your possession forthwith.
If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story. I'd really like to hear from some of you with either positive or negative comments. I'd really like to hear from YOU so I'll have some idea how I'm doing. Thanks.
Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the only possible solution and that sexual dimorphism is Mother Natures excuse for being kinky. Jon
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Prelude to Christmas
Ever since I was put in jail I've lived with a black man. My Daddy, Jimmy. During the day, outside of our home, he is 'James", my chauffeur/gardener/handyman/gopher. As a high-priced stock broker/real estate agent I rate having a servant in the eyes of my red-necked neighbors. I treat James with a certain amount of disdain outside of our home. With the physical, emotional, and mental difference between us accentuated to the extreme. I call him 'James', or 'Boy' as I please and order him about with a fine disregard for the finer sensibilities. I do so with a certain amount of restraint however. You see, when I get home I am required to strip naked, put on my collar and wait for Jimmy on my knees and elbows in the middle of the kitchen floor. Depending on my behavior on any particular day, Jimmy is just as likely as not to enter the kitchen carrying the broad leather strap that he uses to adjust my attitude. A couple of times I've been so bad that my Daddy (he likes for me to call him only that when we are alone and very private) has had to tie me to the rafters in the basement or over the arm of the old sofa down there and give me "a good old-fashioned slave beating." I'm usually sore for days after a beating like that, but Jimmy accepts no excuses and fucks me just as hard and just as often, no matter what.
My whole life changed when Jimmy became my Daddy and we started living together. I'd always been sort of a wild little rich boy. My parents were, and are, very indulgent and forgiving. My teachers and coaches were all kept in their places knowing that they were little better than servants. And I was bright enough to run circles around most of my teachers anyway. I got a couple of girls pregnant before I was 15, and that was a real bummer because I had to listen to my parents go on and on about how expensive it was to buy the sluts off. Then I discovered that it was just as much fun to play around with my buddies. Going to private schools the way I did, that meant that I had a lot more constant access to sex partners. I fucked and sucked and jerked pretty much indiscriminately, never forming any relationships beyond a sort of casual friendship. Not until I met Jimmy at any rate.
Jimmy was totally different from anyone I'd had sex with before. First off, he took absolutely no shit off of me. He pulled down my pants, put me across his knee, and hand paddled my naked butt right in the middle of the main mens' room at Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport one time. A bunch of guys stopped to watch and I noticed wood in more than a few pairs of pants as I was getting my fanny tanned.
Right after getting out of jail I bonded Jimmy out as well. I suggested finishing what he had started in the cell we'd shared and he said that he'd be happy to teach my white ass proper respect. I trembled all over but just handed him the keys to my car and told him where I lived. It was a six hour drive and not a word was said the entire time. When we got to my house he parked the car in the garage and looked over my other cars. He unlocked the door and asked me if I had a basement and how to get there. I pointed to the door leading down to the basement. He opened the door and pointed. I went downstairs.
Jimmy followed me downstairs and checked out the basement. "This'll be my place from now on, Boy. Strip!"
I just nodded and began peeling my clothes off.
"You're messing up my space, Boy! Pick those up, fold them, and stack them neatly on that table."
I quickly did as I was told. When I turned around, Jimmy was standing there with some rope he'd found. "Outside of here we'll act like we have to so that the neighbors don't lynch us. Once inside, especially down here, you are my boy and you do as you're told. Do you understand?"
I nodded, "Yes."
"I can see that I'm going to have to be very harsh with you, especially at first. You've got some hard lessons to learn, Boy, but I'm your Daddy now and I'll make sure you know how to act properly from here on. Do you think you can live with that?"
I nodded, "Yes" again.
"Think about it, Boy. Take some time if you need too, but think it over. What I want is for you to be my boy and to teach you to be a proper boy for a man. I'll be very harsh at times. This isn't a game to me that can be started and stopped at a whim. If you agree, then you ARE my boy and I AM your Dad. Your Daddy. You will do as you're told or you'll have your butt spanked or worse. No reneging. No backing out. No other rules other than the ones I make. You will be my boy and you will do as you are told. Now, go think it over, then come back and tell me your answer when you're ready."
I knew, just from the way he was acting that Jimmy was no stranger to the sort of relationship he was offering me. I knew, deep down inside of myself, that I needed exactly what Jimmy was offering. Moreso, I knew that I wanted it. I wanted a Daddy who was strong enough, and cared enough to take control of me and to teach me how to be a proper man. I wondered who had taught Jimmy, because he was the most wonderful man I'd ever seen, of any color.
"I don't need to think about it. If you think this is what I need, I agree."
"OK. Good! That's it then! Two things to start with: You ALWAYS call me "Daddy", "Dad" or "Sir" when we're alone, especially here in the house or in my basement. Second, You NEVER, EVER piss me off by acting the way you have been. Now get over here!"
"Yes, Sir, Daddy." I blurted out as I scurried over to him.
Jimmy swatted my bare ass with one of his big hands and told me to put my hands out. He tied a length of rope around each wrist and then tossed the ends over the main floor beam above us. He pulled me up until I was just barely on my tip-toes and then tied the ropes off solidly. Then he tied a rope around each of my ankles and used some old nails and a hammer he'd found to nail the ropes to the wooden floor, spread-eagleing me in mid-air.
Jimmy stood back up and tested the ropes holding my arms. Then he started taking off the wide leather belt he was wearing and walked around behind me. "This will help you remember to call me "Sir" and keep you from thinking that all of this is just a joke. I'll be testing your ability to take a beating at the same time. Go ahead and holler and beg if you want to. That won't bother me at all. In fact, I like to hear my boys developing their lungs. Now, and listen to this carefully; if you think you just can't take whatever is happening, at any time. All you have to do is say "Milwaukee." That's your safe word, Baby. Just say "Milwaukee" and I'll stop whatever I'm doing and we'll reconsider our relationship.
"Keep in mind though, Boy, if you use your safe word and I don't think it was justified, It will be the last word we ever exchange. I will release you and that will be the last thing we ever do together. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir, Daddy. I understand. My safe word is "Milwaukee" and I need to be very, very careful about using it."
"Good Boy! Now, you ready to get worked over for your behavior?"
"Tears started coming to my eyes. I knew that he had every intention of hurting me. But I also knew that I deserved it, and more, I needed it so that I would finally learn how to behave. "Yes, Sir. I'm ready, Daddy. And I'm sorry I've been a bad boy."
"Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be, Boy. Not nearly as sorry!"
Daddy (I can't call him Jimmy thinking about this), Daddy proved to me that day that there wasn't a damn thing he didn't know about punishing a recalcitrant boy. I'd give you a blow-by-blow description, but what you, or your boy, is likely to need will be different than what I needed. That's what makes an good Daddy. He knows how to treat his boy. If you want to learn about the specifics, you need to find yourself a good Daddy and have him teach you. It's not my place.
Daddy was right. I yelled and screamed until I was hoarse, and it made no difference to him at all. He'd just keep strapping me until I quieted down enough for him to continue his lesson. When he finally decided that I'd had enough for a first session, he unfastened the ropes and let me down. He had to hold me up while he untied my wrists and then he just held me against his chest until I quit trembling and crying. Then he tilted my head backwards and held me by the chin as he looked into my eyes. "You OK now, Son?"
I smiled at him through my reddened, tear-stained eyes. "Yes, Sir," was about all I could get out in my trembling, wavery voice.
"Good. I went through all this to make sure that you understand that you're MY boy now. That I care about you and that I want you to do the right thing. Now lay down over the arm of the sofa!"
The old sofa had been in the basement when I bought the house and I'd never gotten around to throwing it away. Now, I was about to become intimately acquainted with a piece of furniture that was to become a major part of my life. I laid down across the wing arm of the old red horsehair sofa, feeling the stiff, prickly spines of the woven pattern sticking into my skin in an uncomfortable manner. My new Daddy arranged me as he wanted me, my belly over the wide curve of the cantilevered arm, my legs widespread with my bare feet on the cold cement floor and my ass hanging out for all to see.
"That's real pretty!" Daddy said, patting my ass. He walked over to the workbench and took down a riding crop I'd hung on the wall there. About two feel long, it had a core of rawhide tightly wrapped in a sewn leather cover making a stiff but quite flexible handle and shaft. The handle was braided around with thin leather strips for a good grip with a loop to fit around the wrist. The business end was a flap of tanned leather sewn and then braided to the end of the shaft. When used, the two halves, normally separated by about a quarter inch space, slapped together, making a loud noise and reinforcing the contact. Jimmy stepped over and used it most scientifically all over my ass, including considerable effort focused right on my male pucker until it was red and swollen. When my hole and asscheeks were just exactly the shade of red he wanted, Daddy put down the crop, spit on my asshole and fucked me mercilessly until I was begging him to never, ever stop. When he got me to that point Daddy came in my ass and then lead me upstairs and put me in my bed. We didn't leave that bed for three days except for absolute necessities. Daddy fucked me over and over and made me sleep under the covers so I could smell his body funk and the miasma of our repeated sexual encounters. I sucked my Daddy and licked his entire body clean. I learned that my Daddy didn't always want to get up to go piss, so I learned how to drink every drop he produced so that I could go pee it for him later. I also learned to take his spit and cum and piss up my ass and how to swallow his entire cock whether it was soft or hard. Those were hard lessons, but I really wanted to learn and Daddy was a dedicated and thorough teacher.
Our life continued like this, with Daddy teaching me how to behave, punishing me whenever necessary and teaching me that some of his discipline games were fun by themselves, whether I'd done anything wrong or not. I loved falling asleep with Daddy's cock in my ass, and I loved having him fuck me and then drain his morning piss into my ass so he wouldn't have to get up until after I'd served him his breakfast in bed. If I was very good he would let me climb under the covers and suck on him while he ate. I loved to hold his huge balls in my mouth at times like that, curled up in the warmth between his legs, sucking like a newborn babe as I dozed.
Daddy and I had gone to several shops that he knew of. Hidden shops that were hard to find and that dealt in very special playtoys for very special people. My chastity belt and body harness. A whole range of dildo's and buttplugs. Whips and straps and tawses and all sorts of other discipline tools to keep me on my toes. A couple of times, to truly humiliate me, Daddy made me dress up as a woman in a flashy dress and VERY high heels and then took me out to the black bars and clubs on a "date". Sometimes, slow dancing with me, he'd pull up the back of my dress so the other dancers could see him finger fucking me. Any resistance on my part was what he was hoping for, to give him an excuse to really work me over. The first night that I managed to completely fulfill the feminine role he wanted me to play, he took me to bed and fucked me like a man fucks his woman, or his male lover who has proven himself worthy. After that night the only time Daddy made me dress up like that and take me out dancing was when I asked him too. I started noticing how jealous the other black men were of Daddy's beautiful white bitch, and of how proud Daddy was of me. After that, I started asking Daddy to take me out dancing on a regular basis to show him how much I loved him. Once he even took me into the back room of a club with three other men and their dates and fucked me while they fucked their women with no one the wiser. My high-pitched screaming when I came was cause for the other men to congratulated Daddy. You can imagine how happy that made daddy and how hard he fucked me once we got home and he got me out of all that silly women's stuff. An interesting game, but it was the man-to-man stuff (man-to-boy?) we really liked.
Daddy had me across his knee one evening, discussing my having scheduled too many clients so that I couldn't give each the attention they were paying for, and deserved --- AGAIN. Dad told me that he was getting just about fed up with my over scheduling, and that I really, really, REALLY didn't want another repeat. Since my ass was already bright red at that point, the vigorous ass whipping he gave me had full effect and I vowed to slow down a little bit and to quit trying to stuff so much into each hour of my life. When Daddy got to the point where he was finishing up, feeling around on my ass and touching up a few places that weren't tingling as badly as the rest of my flaming butt, he asked me if I wanted to go home with him for the holidays and meet his family. I got all scared but Daddy snuggled me up against his side and cuddled me until understood that he really did want me to meet his family and that I would be welcome.
Daddy told me to write my father and explain what was going on in my life and to make sure that he knew that I still loved him and that I wanted him to be a part of my life. I'm going to go do that right now, and I hope the magic of Christmas will allow you to share it with me....