T'was a Night at the Leather Club

A (very tongue in cheek) answer to the Leather Challenge

Chris knew the type of bar it was. After all, no business could open at the North Pole without getting a permit through his office. He also knew that William would not approve of his attending such a place on his own. Well he wasn't exactly on his own. He was here with Bernie his head elf and the entire wooden toy night shift. Claiborne was the youngest on the crew. He was turning one hundred today and they were taking him out to celebrate his coming of age. Chris only wished they'd chosen a different place to take young elf: The Narly Gnome for instance, or even Jack's Frosty Ales and Beers. But no, they had to choose Rudolph's Reins and Restraints Leather Emporium.

Damn that shiny nosed buck for opening this place. Not that Chris could really blame him. After all, what's the guy got to do the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year? The problem was that there was an excess of tops at the Pole, looking for subs they could wrap their harness around. Though the average North Pole citizen would never suspect Santa was a Brat, the word had leaked out within "the community", and Chris had been hit on a number of times recently by some very hot tops looking to take charge of the Pole's ultimate sub.

William had become increasingly growly and protective of his boy lately. The only reason Chris had gotten out this evening without his husband at his side, was that William had flown to Easter Island this morning to enter negotiations with "The Bunny" to expand his bakery to include a chocolatier. William wanted to begin supplying that damn rabbit with all his chocolate eggs.

So here was Chris, unaccompanied at the notorious leather bar. He purposely wore his full red suit in hopes of looking the part of the big man who was in charge of the North Pole. The last thing he wanted was to have to fight off some pushy top.

His companions got several tables right next to the stage, so Chris went up to the bar and ordered a round of Pole Pale Ales for the group.

While he was waiting to pay he felt a very large hand squeeze his right butt cheek. A husky voice growled in his ear. "With that wimpy baker boy of yours out of town you've come looking for someone who can really satisfy you, eh boy?"

Chris turned to find a large ogre standing only a hair's breadth from him. He tried to push back and shove the ogre out of his personal space, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. "Back off! I'm not your boy." He tried to sidestep the creature but found himself pinned against the bar.

"Don't try and fool me," the ogre laughed. "I know all about your type; big man by day, little boy by night." The ogre ran his hand down the side of Chris' face.

"I told you to back off." Chris turned his face away from the stroke.

Suddenly the ogre was stumbling backwards away from Chris. The large creature let out a startled ‘oomph’ as he landed on his backside.

A tall impressively built man stood beside him. "I believe you were told to back off, ogre. Now leave the man alone!" the man spat at the beast.

Chris swallowed hard at the look of the man, he wore snug leather pants and a studded leather jacket open to reveal a tight black t-shirt stretched over well-defined pecks. His large hands were encased in leather gloves and his feet in highly polished Doc Martin's. On his head was a bikers cap and over his eyes he wore a black mask reminiscent of the Lone Ranger.

"You shouldn't come to places like this without your top," the man spoke softly. "You're bound to run into trouble.”

"Thanks for your assistance," Chris replied. "But I'm just here to celebrate a friend's birthday. If you'll excuse me," Chris turned back to the bar to pay for the drinks and then went to join the elves.

Throughout the evening Chris and his friends enjoyed their drinks and the show on the stage as they watched writhing subs tied and punished by their leather clad tops. The masked man stood at the bar sipping on his drink and keeping a surreptitious eye on Chris. Several unattached subs tried to get the Leatherman's attention but he brushed them off without a glance. He was only interested in the boy he'd rescued earlier. He'd wait until the sub left the bar before he'd make his move.

Chris was somewhat surprised but also pleased that their group wasn't bothered by any other pushy tops. He was really glad that Claiborne had a good time for his first visit to a bar. When last call came, Chris exacted a promise from Bernard and several of the older elves that they would see the younger elf safely home to his bed. He bade his friends a good night and walked out into the cold crisp air.

It was only a short walk to his castle, but about half way there a shadow crossed his path. Chris looked up to see the large Leatherman from the bar standing in front of him.

"Well we meet again."

Chris tried to maintain his composure. "Yes, well I'm on my way home. Thank you again for earlier but I must go."

"It's not safe being out on the streets alone this late at night. I'll walk you to your door."

"I'm fine, thank you." Chris was beginning to sweat.

"I must insist." The other man's voice brokered no argument.

Chris picked up the pace of his walking wanting to get home as quickly as possible.

Once they arrived at the large entrance to the castle, Chris turned to the large man beside him. "Am I in a lot of trouble?" he asked his voice slightly shaky.

"More than you know, little boy," the man replied as he opened the door.

"I'm sorry, William. I know I shouldn't have gone there without you. But how did you know where I was?"

"A good top always know how to find his boy," William replied with a shake of his head. "Go and fetch the leather paddle, then pick a corner in the den."

Chris signed. He knew he was soon going to be very sore, but for the moment he was going to relish the memory of his handsome top in that leather outfit standing in front of him at the bar.


T'was a night at the Leather Club and throughout the bar, every top stopped to look when in walked a star.

He was dressed all in leather from his head to his boot, and his clothes were covered in studs that cost a loot.

Over his eyes he wore a Lone Ranger mask, and in his pocket could be seen a shiny silver flask.

He had a chiselled square face and an impressive body that had Santa thinking, `oh god what a hotty.'

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, ridding the place of a fat ogre jerk.

His brat he did guard for the rest of the night and then followed him home as there were things to make right.

The boy was soon turned up over his knee and the Leatherman paddled `til Santa's tears, they ran free.

As punishments go it was not very nice, but defying your top exacts a steep price.

Once in bed the brat had a complete change of luck, as his Leatherman smiled and said, “now let's…”

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