Chapter 1: Lacing up Vader's Boots
I bent down to lace up the big red and black boots. They weren't mine. I don't know if you could describe anything of mine big. No, these big boots belonged to Big Van Vader, or as I was made to call him "Daddy" (or Sir). I was his jobber boy, a lackie in a small stable with him and Mr. Harley Race.
"Lace them up nice and tight boy. Daddy needs them tight to deliver a proper ass whooping tonight."
Vader was set to squash some no name jobber. Though most people in the company were jobbers compared to him. There were few real challengers. Standing at 6'5, 380lbs; he was the alpha male of the WCW. He had held world titles and on a weekly basis handed out beatings to whatever unlucky chump drew the misfortune of being his guinea pig in the ring. Most of his opponents were there just so Vader could show off his strength and dominance in preparation for a big match PPV event with someone higher up on the card. That's how I had "met" him, or should I say come to be under the service of him. But I was grateful to be his boy now. Vader offered me protection from the rest of the roster, which include some other alpha types that I wouldn't last against. In return I serviced Vader's every need and was his obedient jobber boy. That might mean helping him in the ring during matches but it also included helping Vader before and after his matches. It was an intimate job. But that's what I was, a jobber.
I tied his laces tighter on his left boot and moved to the right one. As I was doing this Vader snuck his left boot in between my spread legs on the floor and played with my crotch a bit.
