24/7

 

 

 

Author: Xanthe (NA8)

Fandom: X-Files

Pairing(s): Fox Mulder/Walter Skinner

Warnings: BDSM

Spoilers: none

Summary: Mulder's need for ever more extreme thrills make him seek out the ultimate game player in DC - a mysterious top who is legendary on the BDSM scene, but Mulder must pay a high price to get what he wants.

 

Nominated Category:

 

Best Love Slave Fic

 

 

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Chapter 1: The Contract Chapter 2: Five Gold Rings Chapter 3: A Room with a View

Chapter 1: The Contract

 

"A truth, still apparent, though disregarded, that

things move violently to their place, but calmly in

their place. To put it another way, everything has

its right home, the region that suits it, and, unless

forcibly restrained, will move thither by a kind of

homing instinct."

 

J. Winterson

"Art and Lies"

 

 

Mulder sat at the dark, oak table, his casual, relaxed posture belying his sensation of nervous anticipation. He wanted to appear calm, collected, in control of himself - in other words, an attractive proposition, not a wimpy basket-case.

 

The room was tastefully furnished - just a table, and 6 chairs. No easy chairs, just the dining variety. There were some prints on the wall - nothing erotic - all so very sophisticated, and impeccably stylish. It was what he'd come to expect. He straightened in his chair, and flicked at his tie. An enormous mirror obscured the whole of one wall. He wasn't stupid - he knew that he was being spied on through it. Spied on, evaluated, judged. Mulder couldn't help himself - he began to fidget. This was a big moment - he really didn't want to fuck it up.

 

Six years. Six years he'd been playing this game, and he was good at it. Damn good. They wouldn't find anyone better. He wouldn't find anyone better. If He was looking for the best sub in DC to play with, He need look no further. Mulder was here, and Mulder was that sub. No false pride - he was good, and he knew it.

 

"Mr. Mulder." The voice rang out - sounding tinny over the microphone. Deep, dark, chillingly sensual. Mulder swallowed, and tried not to appear gauche by looking startled. He was a player, and a good one. He had every right to be here, in one of the most exclusive private clubs in DC, attending a meeting set up for him by the best players in the city. A meeting where he finally got a chance to present his case to Him.

 

"You've gone to a great deal of trouble to track me down, Mr. Mulder. I'd like to know why." The voice was smooth, but the inquiry hid a hint of steel behind the polite façade.

 

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, sir," he said, his tone carefully respectful.

 

There was a pause.

 

"Mr. Mulder, you've been pursuing me for over a year. In the end, it just seemed easier to see you in person than to keep evading you."

 

"You've been evading me…? Why, sir?" Mulder frowned.

 

"Etiquette, Mr. Mulder. I've been aware of your presence on the scene - who could fail to be? You've played with every top in the city."

 

"There haven't been any complaints, have there?" Mulder asked, his voice holding a hint of challenge.

 

"No. None. Except for the short-lived nature of your devotion…you have a tendency to consume your tops, and then move onto the next, Mr. Mulder." The voice sounded almost amused.

 

"I didn't find any of them…interesting enough to stay with." Mulder shrugged.

 

"And what makes you think that I'll live up to your exacting standards?" The voice snapped.

 

Mulder hesitated. This wasn't going the way he'd planned.

 

"I don't have exacting standards…I just…" He hesitated. How could he explain it? He'd been playing in this city for years, progressing from eager-eyed newbie, to experienced old hand, and the thrill was so transitory. "I need more," he whispered. "After each session I get the high, but it's becoming harder to reach, harder to sustain. I'm well trained - you'll find me exciting to play with."

 

"The excitement isn't in question. The training is," the voice answered dryly. Mulder stared directly into the mirror, wishing he could see the man behind it. "Explain to me why I should bother with you?"

 

"You're legendary. Everyone knows of your existence, but hardly anyone knows who you are. You're the best player there is…"

 

"And you think that you deserve only the best?" The voice challenged.

 

"Yes. No! I just meant…that I need something." Mulder's voice faded. He couldn't begin to put his needs into words, to explain the vast, gaping chasm he needed to fill.

 

"You speak a lot about yourself, and your needs," the voice mused.

 

"I'd address myself to you and your needs if you took me on," Mulder said hastily. "I'm a player, sir. I know how to please. If you accept me as your sub, sir, I'd do my best to please you, and I'd make you happy. Very happy." He glanced into the mirror with just a slight inclination of his head - a challenge, a promise, a hint of what could follow if this man would just say "yes." He didn't.

 

"No, Mr. Mulder. You'd do your best to please yourself, and insofar as that pleased me, I'm sure I'd be very satisfied. Beyond that, I'd be left, as you clearly are, with a feeling of emptiness. Your offer is…unacceptable."

 

Mulder sat down, feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut. "Please, sir…give me a chance," he whispered.

 

"No." The voice was surprisingly kind. "You shouldn't have come here, Mr. Mulder. If I'd been interested in you, I'd have selected you myself, and you could have spared yourself this…humiliation."

 

"Oh, haven't you heard? I'm a masochist. I thrive on humiliation," Mulder spat bitterly. There was a sound of a dry laugh from the microphone.

 

"Masochism," the voice said. "Would you like the dictionary definition?" There was a pause - Mulder assumed it was a rhetorical question. "Masochism. Noun. 1. Psychiatry, an abnormal condition in which pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, is derived from pain or from humiliation, domination etc, by another person."

 

Mulder closed his eyes, and saw himself hanging from a set of manacles, his body criss-crossed with the lines of his last master's whip. He re-lived the pain, the humiliation, the sheer breath-taking pleasure of both, and his cock responded by hardening almost immediately.

 

"Does that describe you, Mr. Mulder? Do you view yourself as abnormal?" The voice asked, in an almost gentle tone.

 

"No." Mulder snapped abruptly. "I know what I am, and I've come to terms with that."

 

"Really? Shall I continue? 2. Psychoanalysis. The directing towards oneself of any destructive tendencies." Like coming here today, perhaps?" the voice commented, in a dry tone. "Is that what you do in your everyday life, Mr. Mulder? Do you court death and pain? Do you embrace your own suffering all too readily?"

 

Mulder opened his mouth, and saw himself in a hundred different scenarios - jumping from trains, escaping bomb blasts, chasing after his lost sister - finding her - being rejected by her. He closed his mouth, and nodded, burying his face in his hands.

 

"3. A tendency to take pleasure from one's own suffering - which, I think, is what you're doing right now," the voice laughed. "Mr. Mulder, let's start again from the beginning. Tell me your experiences, honestly. Tell me what led you from your first sado-masochistic experience to my door, and then I'll tell you whether I'm prepared to change my mind."

 

Mulder sat up, his whole body shaking. He felt known - he felt as if this man knew and understood him, and it scared him. It reminded him of…

 

"Phoebe," he whispered. "An old girlfriend - I met her when I was 18. She used to tie me up…and she was cruel to me. I found it…arousing."

 

"Good. Continue," the voice ordered.

 

"She did some great head fucks. She'd flirt with other guys to make me jealous - sometimes she liked watching me fight them, physically. I always won…except once." He broke off, stared into space.

 

"What happened?"

 

"She went off with the other guy. Spent the night with him - slept with him." Mulder clenched his fists. "The message went home loud and clear. I had to be the best, the strongest, to keep her. She was the prize, the top, and I was nothing. I existed just to serve her."

 

"Did you find that arousing?"

 

Mulder sighed. "Yeah. Oh god, yeah. I hated it though. I couldn't handle the insecurity. We broke up. I had some regular girlfriends for a while, and then I started working in DC. I…I couldn't forget Phoebe, so I found the BDSM scene. I only played with women at first…and then one day, the woman I was with gave me to this guy - made me suck his dick. It was supposed to be the ultimate humiliation…but I found myself enjoying it. Men are harder, stronger…the domination is so much more…total. I need to give myself up to that. I'm a strong person. I need to be owned by someone stronger," Mulder whispered. "After that, I sought out men. I've never viewed myself as homosexual, but I like being dominated by men."

 

"I see." The voice was thoughtful.

 

"I feel…out of control," Mulder continued. "That's what the appeal of this is to me. I can't control myself, or my life. There are things that have happened to me that are…well let's just say that I've diced with death for the sheer thrill of it on more than one occasion. I haven't decided whether I want to live. Every day I wake up wondering whether today's the day I'll die. It's an ongoing decision. I haven't chosen life. It's just what's happened. By default. Death might come the same way. With sex…with BDSM sex, someone else takes that decision away from me. They control me…and for a few hours I have some respite from that decision. I can't make it. I'm not free to. I belong to them." Mulder stood up, and glanced at the mirror, bitterly. "Well thanks for seeing me. Even if the favor wasn't returned," he said, "and for making me spill my guts. I hope it amused you."

 

"It was…fascinating," the voice intoned. "You interest me enough to make me reconsider."

 

Mulder stopped on his way to the door, and stiffened, then turned back, his heart beating too quickly inside his chest. "You'll have me? You'll take me as your sub?" He asked.

 

"No," the voice said in a low, quiet tone. Mulder's whole body slumped. "I wouldn't consider taking you as a sub, Mr. Mulder. That wouldn't suit me, and it's hardly worked for you so far - as is evident. I will consider taking you as my slave though."

 

"What?" Mulder strode over to the mirror.

 

"You know what I mean, Mr. Mulder. You've been on the scene for several years," the voice chided softly. "I don't want to have you as a twice a week fuck. That wouldn't interest me, and it won't do you any good either. If you sincerely wish to play with me, then it would have to be a more…permanent arrangement - 24 hours a day, 7 days a week."

 

"What about my work?" Mulder asked incredulously.

 

"I don't have a problem with you continuing to work - as long as you keep me briefed on everything you do. You would live with me though - I have special slave quarters - and you'd have a pager. I expect you to be available to me whenever I wish to make use of you - and in whatever way I wish to make use of you, from presenting your ass for a whipping, to fetching the groceries."

 

"That might interfere with my job," Mulder murmured, wishing that his cock wasn't rock hard inside his pants.

 

"You would have to ensure it didn't." The voice sounded unconcerned. "I prefer my slaves to have something interesting to talk about at the end of the day. I require my slave to be presentable, well groomed, polite, intelligent, educated, charming, and amusing. It's not an easy lifestyle, Mr. Mulder. There's no question of my slave sitting back and waiting for me to do all the hard work. I expect to be kept entertained, sexually satisfied, and generally looked after. You'll be my valet, chef and housekeeper - all on an unpaid basis - in addition to keeping my bed warmed."

 

"Sounds like a tough job," Mulder commented.

 

There was a dry laugh. "It has its compensations. You should think carefully about it before submitting yourself to any such agreement though. Sit down at the table, Mr. Mulder. I'll have my terms brought in, and then you can decide whether or not they're acceptable to you."

 

Mulder did as he was told, wordlessly, his mouth dry. He was stunned by this turn of events. He thought he had known, when he first came here, what he was letting himself in for. He would charm this top top, this super-dom, and then he'd get what he needed, when he needed it - on his terms. Not anybody else's. He didn't like the way this was going at all…and yet…and yet his body was quivering with arousal at the thought of being so comprehensively owned. It was the kind of relationship he'd had with Phoebe, only without either of them ever specifying as much.

 

The door opened, and a servant walked in. He was holding a piece of paper, which he placed in front of Mulder. Then he brought over a silver pen and an inkstand, together with a blotter, and placed them by Mulder's right hand. He left the room without speaking.

 

Mulder looked down on the neatly typed parchment, and read:

 

Slave Contract.

 

 

 

I have read and fully understand this Slavery Contract in its entirety. I agree to give everything I own to my Master, and further accept His claim of ownership over my physical body, heart, soul, and mind. I understand that I will be commanded and trained and punished as a slave, and I promise to be true and to fulfil the pleasures and desires of my Master, and serve Him to the best of my abilities. I understand that I cannot withdraw from this Slavery Contract.

 

Signed:

 

"Absolutely not." Mulder put down the pen, got up, and walked furiously over to the mirror. "You must be insane. I don't even know you - I haven't even met you. This is ridiculous."

 

"Fair enough," the voice said smoothly. "It's been interesting meeting you, Mr. Mulder. Please close the door on your way out."

 

"Fuck you." Mulder kicked the wall angrily. "My possessions? My heart, my soul…?" he floundered breathlessly.

 

"I suspect that neither your heart, nor your soul, are areas that disturb you very much, Mr. Mulder. The part that caused you anxiety was, I suspect, your 'mind'."

 

"It doesn't matter. You can't really own another person. It's crazy." Mulder thumped his head against the mirror, and stood there for a moment in anguish, leaning his head and forearms on that brightly polished surface. He needed this. He really needed this. Only he, and, he suspected, the man behind the mirror, knew just how much that contract turned him on. It was the ultimate thrill - to live in a state of constant submission. He knew his own nature all too well - he only ever feigned his submission during sex play, in order to get off on it. He wouldn't be able to do that under the conditions laid out in the contract. This was the Real Thing. It scared him. It excited him. A claustrophobic part of himself was already chafing under the idea of the restriction, even as his cock throbbed in anticipation of such ownership. Mulder looked up, into his own eyes, into the eyes of the man behind the mirror.

 

"What about you?" He whispered at last, hardly believing that he was seriously continuing this conversation. "I see a lot in this contract about my obligations - what about yours?" He waved his arm at the piece of paper.

 

"Good question." The voice sounded as if it were smiling.

 

The door opened, and the servant came back in. He laid another sheet of paper on the table, and stepped quietly away again. Mulder returned to the table cautiously, curiously, hating himself for being so interested in this whole process. He had no intention of signing. He couldn't. And yet…

 

Master Contract.

 

 

 

I have read and fully understand this Master Contract in its entirety. I agree to accept this slave as my property, body and possessions, and to care for him to the best of my ability. I shall provide for his security and well-being and command him, train him, and punish him as a slave. I understand the responsibility implicit in this arrangement, and agree that no harm shall come to the slave as long as he is mine. I further understand that I can withdraw from this Contract at any time.

 

Signed:

 

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back, then opened them, and gazed at the plain, white ceiling, but he found no answers there. This Contract spoke to some need, deep inside him. The Master's contract spoke of caring, of punishing… of protecting him. The use of the word security echoed in his mind. He didn't feel secure, or loved, or cared for. He felt adrift. He wanted peace - would this contract give him that?

 

"I see you get to end the contract whenever you like, but I don't," he commented bitterly.

 

"There will be times you might be tempted to act in haste - and repent at leisure," the voice replied.

 

"That's a saying usually used about marriage, not slave contracts," Mulder murmured ironically.

 

More dry laughter. "If you're wondering whether there's a difference, trust me, there is. A significant one. However…" The voice was thoughtful. "I have no wish to keep an unwilling slave. If you wished to break our Contract, I'd listen to your arguments and treat them seriously - although I'd probably refuse your request. I have no legally binding hold over you - the laws of this land would uphold your freedom, except in regard to your property of course, which would be signed over to me. I might return it to you at my own discretion, if I terminated our contract. It is doubtful that I would do so if you chose to leave. In addition - if you decide to leave without my permission, then I wouldn't accept you back. I also suspect that you'd have to find a new playground. Nobody in this city would play with another man's property without his permission - and it's unlikely that I'd give such permission."

 

"Dammit this is absurd! Surely you can see that!" Mulder pounded his fist on the table. "This is about sex, not everyday life. I cannot…I will not…give myself up to this."

 

"No. I'm sorry. You won't ever find what you're looking for, Mr. Mulder, precisely because of that fact."

 

"I'm not looking to become someone's slave!" Mulder protested.

 

"No. I agree. However, in so doing, you might discover what you are looking for." The voice had a tone to it that implied a shrug.

 

"Don't I even get to see what I'm letting myself in for?" Mulder questioned. "You've had a chance to inspect the goods - what about me?"

 

"I think not. If you choose not to sign the contract, then I'd prefer for my identity to remain a secret. You came looking for me, remember. I don't have any obligation towards you."

 

"What about negotiation?" Mulder asked despairingly. He always negotiated prior to playing. He and his prospective partner would talk about what sexual practices they enjoyed, and how far the top could go. He was so adept at them that he could talk easily on subjects some people might find highly embarrassing. It was standard safe practice on the scene - for good reason.

 

"There is no negotiation. There's just the Contract," came the reply. "If you're my slave, I own you. There's no discussion about it. You have to learn to trust…and submit."

 

"So, safe-words wouldn't be an option then?" Mulder asked, making a face.

 

"That's right, Mr. Mulder. They wouldn’t," the voice replied dryly.

 

Mulder paced around the room, thinking furiously. Shit, this man could be anyone - hell, it could even be that cigarette smoking bastard. Not that it would matter if he were. Mulder would just walk out, and not come back, if that were the case. So what if he couldn't play in this city again - at least he'd keep his integrity. And what, truthfully, was the point of playing here again? He'd been through every top, and yes, he'd consumed them, as this man had so accurately pointed out. He felt as if was spinning out of control, seeking ever more dangerous risks, more intense thrills…and this…this was the ultimate risk, the ultimate trip into the unknown, the ultimate thrill. If he signed this piece of paper, anything could happen to him. During a sex game he wouldn't have any control, or the buffer zone of a safe-word. He'd be totally, completely, at the mercy of his Master. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week… Shit, but this man reminded him of Phoebe. He seemed to have gotten into his head - he knew exactly the way to scare him and excite him, at one and the same time.

 

"Yes," he whispered. There was a silence. "I said, the answer is yes, damn you!" He roared.

 

"The pen is on the table," the voice replied implacably, clearly unimpressed by this display of temper.

 

Mulder went over to the table, and sat down. He picked up the pen, and closed his eyes. He saw Scully's face in his mind's eye. She was frowning at him, yelling at him, asking him how the hell he could do something this stupid. He saw Skinner, standing over him, shouting at him - asking him why he'd risk his career over something so crazy. He opened his eyes again, trying to shut out their faces, their voices, their concern. How could he ever explain this to them? All he could hope was that this man he was giving his life over to was benign, and that somehow he'd keep him back from the brink of the dark abyss he walked.

 

Mulder placed the tip of the pen to the paper - and signed his life away.

 

 

 

---

 

 

Chapter 2: Five Gold Rings

Mulder paced the room, anxiously chewing on a set of fingernails already bitten to the quick. It had been a week since he last stood here, a week during which he had done everything he had been instructed to do. He had complained that a week was too short a time to put his affairs in order, and arrange for his personal finances to be transferred into his Master's numbered accounts as he had been instructed, but his new owner had been adamant.

 

"You should also view it as a cooling off period," his Master had said, his voice echoing around the room, and straight into Mulder's soul, sounding tinny, and distorted through the microphone. "When you come back here next week, if you've done everything as instructed, and if you still wish to proceed, then, and only then, I'll sign the Master contract. In your presence. After that - there's no going back."

 

Mulder leaned against the wall, and tried to keep still. "No going back…no going back…" the words reverberated around his skull. He wished, profoundly, that this was all over. That his Master had claimed him, tied him up, dragged him back to his lair, and then at least he'd know whether he'd done a Good Thing, or a Very Bad Thing. All this waiting was making him insane. He'd been like a cat on a hot tin roof all week, driving Scully crazy, alternately fidgeting and sitting in a state of slumped lethargy. He hadn't been able to write up the two reports sitting on his desk - he'd just stared into space instead, rolling his new status around in his head. Fox Mulder - slave. Possession. Owned. Even Skinner had noticed his strange behavior and had asked him if something was wrong. Looking into his boss's concerned dark eyes, he'd wished for a moment that he did have someone he could confide in, someone who could save him from the consequences of his actions. He was paying the price for not trusting easily. In the end he'd brushed Skinner's inquiry off brusquely, and Scully hadn't even dared broach the subject of what was up with him. He was glad for that much at least. Soon it would all be over.

 

He knew he was being a fool, but all the same he couldn't stop his head-long plunge into this unknown realm. He didn't own much, so he didn't care about the money. His father had left everything to his mother in his will, despite their divorce - maybe as some kind of recompense, maybe to punish his only son - Mulder didn't know. He had never understood his father. When his mother died, Mulder assumed he might end up a relatively wealthy man, but he wasn't at this moment in time. All he was giving up to his Master was a few thousand dollars. It didn't seem too high a price to pay for…for what? Peace? Mulder leaned his head back against the wall, and bounced it there - once, twice, three times, hating himself for the need, and berating himself for his stupid hope that he would find what he sought in this arrangement. That didn't stop him hoping all the same. He wondered idly what his owner looked like. It didn't matter, but he was still curious. He wasn't looking for love - he was looking to be saved from himself.

 

"Mr. Mulder. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." The voice rang out, breaking into his reverie, surprising him. Mulder jumped. He'd forgotten how deep and seductive that voice was, how it made his cock jump to know he was being addressed by his Master.

 

"Do you apologize to all your slaves?" Mulder asked, raising an ironic eyebrow.

 

That dry laugh rang out. "You're not. Yet. When I sign my part of the contract it will be a done deal. Until then…"

 

"I'd like to get it over with," Mulder interrupted, his nerves frayed, and jangling.

 

"I take it you haven't changed your mind then?" His Master inquired.

 

"No." Mulder took a deep breath. "You got into my head and found some part of me I didn't even know existed. I've been walking around with a hard-on all week because of you," he said accusingly, his tone almost bitter.

 

"My apologies for knowing my trade so well," the voice said softly, almost in commiseration. "Is the paperwork done?"

 

"Yes." Mulder laid his briefcase on the table, opened it, withdrew a file and held it up. "Here it is. The sum total of my life - for what it's worth. And here's where you reveal this was all just a giant set-up to fleece me, and you take the money and run." Mulder tensed, almost expecting that to happen.

 

"Don't be stupid," the voice chided. "You arranged this meeting through James Eckhart and J.M. Lucas, both high profile players with good reputations. Do you doubt their integrity?"

 

"No. Maybe they might want to teach the pushy sub a lesson though," Mulder commented wryly.

 

"There are other ways to do that," the voice reminded him. "And you won't be any kind of sub for much longer."

 

The door opened and Mulder held his breath - but it was only the servant, who retrieved the file from him, and exited again.

 

"Your personal possessions?" His Master asked.

 

"In my car." Mulder shrugged.

 

"The lease on your apartment?"

 

"Put in the name of the company you gave me. Your company?" Mulder inquired, curious, wondering what line of work this man was in. He was ignored.

 

"The keys?"

 

"Right here." Mulder held them up, then, with a deep inhalation of breath, he put them on the table and backed away again.

 

"This seems to be in order. Go back over to the table." Mulder felt himself chafing at the peremptory command, then caught himself and shook his head. Better get used to it…

 

The servant had left a big white envelope on the table, with one word on it : Fox. Mulder suppressed a grimace.

 

"Is there a problem?" His Master asked.

 

"My name." Mulder shrugged. "I don't like it."

 

"That's a shame. I've decided that will be your slave name," his Master told him, in an amused tone.

 

"What?" Mulder turned and glared at the mirror.

 

"A slave must have a slave name - bestowed upon him by his Master. Yours will be Fox." His Master said in a tone that brooked no contradiction.

 

Mulder tried anyway. "Why Fox? That's my real name!" He protested.

 

"Exactly," the voice replied. "Open the envelope while I check through these documents you've provided."

 

Mulder stood there, quivering, hating being this much at a disadvantage, but finding it arousing at the same time. Finally, he slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope, and tipped the contents onto the table. Five gold rings, of varying sizes, slid out.

 

The largest was a collar - wrought from real gold, thin and light, with his name inscribed on it in beautiful lettering, together with a tiny, perfect engraving of a fox.

 

"It's thin enough to be worn under a shirt and tie. I expect you to wear it at all times - day and night," his Master said softly.

 

Mulder swallowed, and ran his fingers over the smooth, cool metal. "It's beautiful," he whispered, a lump rising in his throat. Considerable care and attention had gone into making this collar - and he knew, without fastening it around his neck, that it would fit him perfectly. His long fingers moved over the other rings. One was mid-sized, but the other three were much smaller - two of them were identical. The third was slightly bigger, and much thicker.

 

"If you're thinking it looks like a wedding ring, that's because it is," his Master chuckled softly. "Like the collar, you'll wear it constantly. You'll be punished if I ever see you without either of these symbols of my ownership."

 

"I understand, Master," Mulder replied, bowing his head towards the mirror, thinking that he wouldn't want to be seen without them. They were both so exquisite. The wedding ring was simple, plain gold - shiny and new. Inside, his name was engraved again. F-O-X. Never had his own name looked so beautiful. "Thank you, Master," he whispered.

 

"Society has its own way of recognizing commitment. It's important that nobody should think that you're available. You aren't," the voice said firmly.

 

"No, Master." Mulder inclined his head again. "And this?" He held up the mid-sized ring, with a questioning, faintly amused eyebrow.

 

"You don't need me to tell you what that's for," his Master chided.

 

"And do I have to wear this all the time too?" Mulder asked.

 

"Unless I remove it myself, or give you permission to do so, yes," his Master replied. Mulder fingered the cock ring.

 

"I've never seen one in pure gold before." He shook his head. The cock ring was also engraved with his name, in the same ornate lettering. "And these?" Mulder played with smallest rings.

 

"I like my slaves to be decorated," his Master said, his tone smooth, like honey. "Are you pierced anywhere?"

 

Mulder swallowed hard. Nipple rings. "No, Master." He felt his cock hardening even more inside his pants.

 

"We'll soon remedy that," his Master chuckled. "If I think it suits you, then I might consider other methods of decorating you - tattooing, maybe branding."

 

"Branding?" Mulder echoed faintly.

 

"If it pleases me, yes. These rings are all symbols of my ownership," his Master said, his voice almost caressing him. Mulder nodded - wondering how the hell he was going to explain the wedding ring to Scully. "In a moment I'm going to put the wedding ring, and the collar on you. Nobody but me can take them off you," his Master told him firmly. "If you remove them, then I'll punish you - harshly. The day I remove those symbols of my possession, is the day you are free to leave my service. Do you understand that?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder bowed his head in awe.

 

"Good. I'll put my cock ring on you later - in the privacy of your new home. Have you thought about this carefully, Fox? This is your last chance. Withdraw now, and I won't speak of this to anyone. You'll be free to go. If you proceed, then you'll belong to me - body and soul. There's no turning back after that."

 

"I understand. I want…I want to belong to you, Master," Mulder said, fingering the collar, and the little picture of the fox.

 

A deep sigh echoed through the microphone, and reverberated around the room. Mulder looked up in alarm.

 

"Very well," his Master said in a low tone. "Lie face down on the floor, Fox, and close your eyes. I'll come and join you - then you can kiss my feet, and offer yourself up to me for collaring."

 

Mulder did as he was told. He was wearing a tee shirt and jeans, so it would be easy enough for his Master to fasten the collar around his neck. Mulder shivered in anticipation, his whole body quivering with the need, the desire, to be this man's property, and to accept the tokens of his ownership. He laid his face against the carpet, and closed his eyes, stretching his body out, offering himself up.

 

It took all Mulder's willpower not to look up as the door opened. He felt his stomach churn and clench, and he bit down on his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. His cock throbbed so much that it hurt. This was better than any game. Better and worse. Certainly more intense. Mulder held his breath as he heard footsteps, and they stopped next to his head. A boot nudged at his hand, and he shuffled forward, and pressed his lips against the shiny surface. He opened his eyes, and slowly raised them - seeing a pair of long, black boots. His eyes continued their slow scrutiny - up a pair of long, long legs, encased in black moleskin pants, over a thick black belt, with a classic, understated, shiny silver buckle, over a pair of slim hips, and a neat trim waist. His gaze lingered on the promising bulge in the pants, then moved on up over a broad expanse of chest, encased in a smooth, silky black shirt, up to a wide neck, and a firm jaw, over the contours of a handsome face, a pair of glasses, and behind them a set of dark, fathomless eyes…

 

"Oh, fuck." Mulder put his head down on the carpet, and banged it. His whole body felt limp and useless, and his entire past flashed before his eyes. "You set me up," he croaked.

 

Skinner didn't move.

 

"No. You did that all by yourself," he replied.

 

"Eckhart and Lucas. They contacted you. They told you I was heading for a fall. You just went along with it - to see how far I'd go. Oh, fuck. Is my career over? Is that what all this is about? An FBI agent entering into a contract of slavery with an unknown man. How fucking stupid is that?"

 

"Very, I'd have said. I could have been anyone. You're in a very compromising position," Skinner mused. His boot nudged Mulder's chin, forcing Mulder to look up into those stern, dark eyes.

 

"I know. I've been an idiot. You caught me. What can I say? Don't ask me why though. You know why. I told you why…" Mulder's voice trailed off, his heart beating so fast that he thought it would explode. How had this happened? To be caught, seen, exposed in this way? At the exact moment when he thought he'd found something, someone who'd force him back from the edge of the abyss, he found instead that he'd been tipped headlong into the dark. Mulder could have wept.

 

"Yes. I know why." Skinner shrugged.

 

Mulder lay there, still prostate at Skinner's feet. He couldn't move - he felt as if his entire body had been turned to jelly.

 

"You went to such a lot of trouble to expose me for the fool I am." Mulder looked up at his boss through long, dark eyelashes. "The five gold rings were a nice touch." He glanced over at them regretfully. "Of course, I feel kind of cheated about the calling birds, french hens, and turtle doves, to say nothing of the partridge and pear tree, but I suppose that's too much for a guy to expect from his new Master, huh?"

 

A small smile played around the edge of Skinner's lips, and he leaned over, put a big hand in Mulder's hair, and pulled his head back. Mulder gulped, as he found himself looking straight into those dark eyes.

 

"Fox - what makes you think this isn't for real?" Skinner asked him.

 

"Are you kidding? Uh…ow…" Mulder felt as if his hair was going to be pulled out by the roots. "The fact that you're my boss? That we work together? I mean, this has to be a set-up…right?"

 

"Wrong." Skinner smiled.

 

Mulder stared at him fascinated by the sight. He realised that he'd never seen his boss smile before - if this man was his boss. In these clothes, smiling, he exuded a completely different air - as if he was someone else. His teeth were straight, and white…all the better to eat me with…Mulder started to shake.

 

"I'm sorry, all this has been a shock," he whispered.

 

"I'm sure it has. I did try to spare you. As I said last week - I've evaded you for as long as I could, but you started to get too close. You've always been an excellent investigator, and it was only a matter of time before you found me. In the end, I thought it might be easier to try and dissuade you, without revealing my identity."

 

"It's for real?" Mulder gaped. "You really are Him?" He asked, stunned.

 

"Oh yes." Skinner shook him slightly. "And you really are persistent," he said.

 

"So why this?" Mulder gestured around the room wildly, taking in the rings, and the contracts lying on the table. "Why the charade? Why the whole ownership deal? The contracts? What the hell did you want with my money? Were you trying to teach me a lesson?"

 

"No." Skinner looked down on him. "I listened to your story, and I evaluated you very carefully, as I would any prospective slave. The deal still stands. You're mine. Signed and sealed." Skinner held up the Slave Contract Mulder had signed the previous week. "I told you if you wanted to pull out of it you could, but you kept pushing on. Now it's too late." Skinner let go of Mulder's hair, and strode over to the table. He picked up the Master's contract, and with a flourish of his hand, he signed it. Then he returned to where Mulder lay, boneless on the floor, and dropped the piece of paper on Mulder's head.

 

Mulder gazed at the piece of paper as it wafted under his nose. He read it, and remembered why he had wanted it, then looked up at Skinner again. His boss, his owner, was holding the beautiful gold collar between his large fingers.

 

"On your knees," Skinner ordered.

 

"I think…I might have changed my mind," Mulder muttered, trying desperately to obey, wishing his muscles would do as he told them.

 

"Why? Because it's me? I'm still offering everything I offered before," Skinner said firmly.

 

"But we can't... I mean what about work?"

 

"You'll be my slave - at work, at home, everywhere. Subject to my command, under my direct ownership. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Nothing has changed." Skinner told him.

 

"But what about…?" Mulder flushed. He had a sudden vision of Skinner's big arms closing around his naked body, of the other man thrusting into him, overpowering, devouring…and he let out an involuntary moan.

 

"Sex?" Skinner gave another of those truly wicked grins. "I told you - you're mine, boy. I'll use you when and where I like, as often as I like, or as little. You," he ran a finger down Mulder's forehead, over his nose, and then rested it lightly on Mulder's lips, "belong to me. Body, heart, mind and soul." He slipped the finger inside Mulder's mouth, and Mulder couldn’t stop himself sucking on it. Skinner laughed. "I rest my case," he said, withdrawing the finger.

 

Mulder finally managed to make it to a kneeling position. He bowed his head, a thousand thoughts running through his mind, but at the end of the day nothing changed any of it. He still wanted this - maybe, deep inside, he wanted it even more now. Skinner was everything he'd ever had wet dreams about. He didn't know how it could work at the FBI, but he knew he had gone too far to stop it. This rollercoaster that he had set in motion wouldn’t let him off until the ride was over. And somehow, Mulder had the feeling that the ride was a long, long way from being over.

 

Mulder placed his hands behind his back, and pulled his trembling limbs into some semblance of a submissive pose.

"Okay," he said quietly. "You're right. I'm yours." He looked up into Skinner's calm eyes. The big man nodded, and opened up the hinge on the collar, then slid it around Mulder's throat. Mulder felt the cold metal caress him, gently warming itself on his flesh. It felt familiar - as if it had always been there. As if it belonged there. Skinner's eyes never left his as those big fingers adjusted the collar, and then snapped it shut. Done. A look passed between them, of ownership, of submission, of an understanding that went deep into their souls.

 

"Your hand," Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder presented his left hand, and Skinner took it. He caressed his thumb down Mulder's ring finger, then firmly slid the wedding ring into place.

 

"Til death us do…" Mulder muttered. Skinner put a finger over his mouth, to shut him up.

 

Mulder hung there, limply, his hand still held in one of Skinner's big paws. The moment stretched into an eternity. Brown eyes and hazel ones were locked as the commitment was made between them, and the contract sealed.

 

Then Skinner laughed out loud, ending the moment. "Get up, slave," he ordered.

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder scrambled to his feet quickly. All the blood raced to his head, and he swayed for a moment, wondering what the hell had just happened.

 

Skinner walked briskly over to the door. He called the servant back in, and handed him the two contracts. "See that these are witnessed, and a copy placed in the vault, and then return them to me," he commanded. The servant nodded, and hurried to do his bidding. Mulder could understand the hurry. The Skinner he knew at work had always commanded his respect, and, occasionally, even his fear. However, this Skinner, this Master Skinner, was even more impressive. He lived this role utterly and completely. His body exuded a fierce grace, moving with the tightly controlled, muscled beauty of the panther. Mulder wondered how he had never seen it before. This was a man he could worship, and kneel before. This was a Master he could truly serve.

 

Skinner turned back to him. "Take the other rings - and keep them safe. I won't be very tolerant if they get lost. Go to your car, and drive to the Viva Tower. Here's a garage permit. It's in your name." Skinner handed Mulder the card. "Wait for me there," Skinner instructed.

 

"Yes, sir." Mulder did as he was told, collecting his briefcase, and scurrying from the room.

 

 

 

Mulder glanced at all his worldly goods in the back of his car. His computer, a couple of suitcases full of his clothing, several boxes of books. He would never, in a million years, have predicted that they'd all of them be moving in with Skinner.

 

He drove slowly through the city, his body still shivering slightly from the shock of the recent events. What kind of a Master would Skinner be, he wondered? Kind? Cruel? Strict? Loving? What would he require of Mulder? And would it be more than Mulder could give?

 

Mulder stopped the car, and considered turning around and heading to Alexandria, to the safety of his own apartment, and his old life, then remembered that it was too late for that. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. Skinner had the keys, he owned the lease - hell, he could even have sublet it by now.

 

Mulder laid his head on the steering wheel, feeling trapped, scared, and aroused at one and the same time. Skinner…He thought of how good the other man had looked in his dark clothes, the shiny boots. He remembered that broad chest, the muscular arms, and the sheer power in the big man's body. Power that he would use to subdue Mulder. Skinner now had the right to whip him, fuck him, and do whatever he wanted to him, whenever he wanted to do it. Mulder glanced despairingly at the bright lights, shining in the dark city.

 

He put his hand up to his neck, and traced the feel of the collar, light but implacable, against his flesh. It would always be there, reminding him of who and what he was, and who he belonged to. As he put his hand back down, he was startled by the flash of the gold ring in the dark.

 

"How come, Mulder - how come that the very thing you want to run away from, is the exact same thing you want to run to?" He asked himself. Then he laughed out loud. "No choice," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don't have any more choices. You don't belong to you any more. You belong to him."

 

Mulder started the car again, and resumed his journey into the unknown.

 

 

 

---

 

 

Chapter 3: A Room with a View

Mulder's new Master kept him waiting in the parking garage beneath the Viva Tower in Crystal City for over an hour. At first, Mulder sat in the car, his legs jiggling up and down, in nervous anticipation. Was Skinner going to take him straight up to his apartment and fuck him senseless? Maybe he would dive straight into a "scene." Or was he going to take a crop to Mulder's butt and try and instill some obedience in him from the outset? Mulder shivered, his cock in a more or less permanent state of arousal. In fact, his nerves were screaming from the sensory overload. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly it scared him. Finally Mulder got out of the car and did a few laps of the garage, trying to distract himself. By the time Skinner drew up in a sleek, black saloon, his erstwhile slave was a wreck.

 

Skinner shot him a cool glance, and it was only through sheer effort of will that Mulder's knees didn't give way.

 

"Follow me." Skinner beckoned with his head, and Mulder hesitated. Skinner turned, one eyebrow raised. "This is one of the first orders I've given you since taking you as my property - are you intending to disobey me already?" He inquired. Mulder shook his head, and hurried to catch up with the big man.

 

"I was just wondering about my stuff, that's all, sir," Mulder said, waving his hand at the packed contents of his car.

 

"Leave it. First I'll show you around, then you can get settled in," Skinner told him tersely. Mulder nodded, his throat dry. Signing those contracts had changed something fundamental between him and his boss. He didn't feel like he was with Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI - he felt like a slave, trailing along behind his new and utterly formidable Master.

 

Skinner stepped into the elevator and Mulder followed him. When the doors had closed behind them, Skinner handed Mulder a smart card.

 

"This is a special key - it takes the elevator up to the 18th floor."

 

"The 18th? But your apartment is on the 17th floor, sir," Mulder said, surprised.

 

"Yes, it is, but your slave quarters are on the 18th floor. Nobody else has an elevator pass to that level except me, the apartment block's security, and now you."

 

"Right." Mulder swallowed. "I, uh, didn't know."

 

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Skinner treated him to another of those wildly sexual grins.

 

"That's becoming evident. Master," Mulder observed dryly, rolling his tongue around the word 'master', his normally flippant personality struggling to re-assert itself. Skinner threw out a big fist, and thumped the stop button on the elevator. Mulder jumped. Suddenly his new Master was looming over him, his large body forcing Mulder back against the wall.

 

"Let's get one thing clear," Skinner told his slave. "This is a completely different arrangement to that which existed between us before. What was acceptable to me as your colleague, and supervisor, is not acceptable to me as your Master. Your behavior towards me, both here, and in the office, will change, as of now."

 

"Change?" Mulder echoed faintly, wanting desperately to reach out and hold onto the big man for support, to be folded into a pair of strong arms, and reassured. He despised himself for his weakness.

 

"That's right. Now, you already know me, and have a certain way of dealing with me, so you're going to have to unlearn those bad habits." Skinner smiled, and then did something completely unexpected. He took Mulder's left hand in his own, and raised it to his lips, caressing the wedding ring with his fingers. "It might be painful - initially at least - but in the long term you'll feel much better for it," Skinner told his slave. He kissed Mulder's ring finger, his dark eyes never leaving his slave's face. "You belong to me now," he said in a low, throaty undertone that made Mulder's hard cock scream for release, "and I don't want you to ever forget it. Every minute, of every day, I want you to know that you're mine. You're not free, Fox, you belong to someone outside yourself. It's a new way of thinking, and it'll take you a while to get used to it, but we'll get there. Eventually. With perseverance."

 

Mulder looked at him for several minutes, drinking in the authority and dark power of those brown eyes, and the seductive promise of Skinner's words, then he nodded. "Yes, sir," he managed to croak.

 

"Good." Skinner stepped back, and pressed the button on the elevator again.

 

The elevator doors swished open a few minutes later, and Mulder found himself on the threshold of a large, comfortable living room. It was impeccably decorated and furnished. There was a wooden floor in golden honey hues, and cream walls, with subtly tasteful lighting on the walls. Two couches and several armchairs took up the center of the room, and a large fireplace with a soft rug in front of it dominated one wall. Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, and ushered him out of the elevator.

 

"This way." His Master walked down a corridor, and opened the door to a small, tidy room, containing a narrow single bed, a desk, and a closet. "This is your room. You can arrange your possessions however you like." Skinner shrugged. "I don't care how you keep your room but I do care how you keep the rest of this apartment - and the one beneath it."

 

"Yes, sir." Mulder nodded, thinking it looked like a monk's cell.

 

"The bell…" Skinner pointed with his head to a box in the corner of the ceiling, "is to summon you. Whenever you hear it, you'll come downstairs to address yourself to whatever I need."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder murmured, wondering what it would be like to be on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, to have to rush to his Master's every summons.

 

"Follow me." Skinner showed him an en-suite bathroom - equipped with a shower, and toilet. "The shower has a special nozzle." Skinner pointed to it. "Use it," he told Mulder, with a firm nod of his head. Mulder flushed slightly, and nodded back. He knew what the nozzle was for - although he'd never used one. "I like my slaves to be clean for me. If you show yourself incapable of keeping yourself that way, then I'm sure a few weeks of enforced enemas will help you learn." Skinner turned on his heel, and left the bathroom. Mulder stood there for a moment, taking several deep breaths and counting to ten to distract himself, before following the big man.

 

Skinner walked further down the corridor, then paused outside a large, oak-paneled door. He removed a key from his pocket, placed it in the lock, turned it, and opened the door, ushering Mulder inside in front of him. Mulder paused… they were standing on the threshold of a huge room, with massive windows forming two of the outside walls.

 

"It's like being at the top of the Empire State Building," Mulder breathed, going over to one of the huge windows, and looking down onto the street.

 

"It's hardly that high," Skinner snorted. "I own the entire 18th floor, Fox. There's nobody above this level, and nobody overlooks this room."

 

"It's like…flying." Mulder gazed, awe-struck, at the city spread around him, its twinkling lights reflected from all sides. The dark night outside pressed in, surrounding them with both blackness and starlight. The windows were so clear that it was as if he was standing outside, utterly enveloped by the night. He felt the warmth of Skinner's body, standing behind him, and the whisper of Skinner's breath on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.

 

"It's beautiful," Mulder whispered.

 

"Look up," Skinner suggested.

 

Mulder did so, and took a sharp intake of breath: the central section of the ceiling was made of thick glass too, and there, framed perfectly in one of the windows, was a fragile crescent moon.

 

They looked at it in silence for a moment, then Skinner turned, strode over to the other side of the room, and snapped the lights on.

 

"Welcome to my Playroom, slave," he murmured.

 

Mulder looked around in stunned silence. There was a sumptuous red carpet covering half the floor - the other half was in more functional linoleum, but he barely noticed the d�cor. The entire room was a fetishist's dream come true. There were spanking horses, sets of chains, interesting pulleys and ropes hanging from the wall and ceiling, and a padded upright whipping post in the shape of a cross. One entire wall was made up of cupboards.

 

"May I?" Mulder placed a hand on one of the cupboard doors.

 

"Go ahead." Skinner shrugged, a wide, amused smile on his lips.

 

Mulder opened the door, and his heart skipped several beats: the cupboard was neatly arranged, scrupulously clean - and it contained several thousand dollars worth of the most exquisite bondage and discipline equipment that Mulder had ever seen. There was a row of leather crops, in varying sizes. Several floggers hung from a rack, ranging from the light suede variety, which Mulder knew barely hurt, and could reduce a man to sheer sensory bliss in the hands of a skilled top, to the heavy rubber variety which would have you whimpering in pain within seconds, and caused heavy bruising that lasted for days.

 

There were paddles, canes, straps, long whips, short whips, bullwhips, and every single instrument of discipline you could think of. Mulder pulled open a drawer and discovered nipple clamps, cock rings, sets of fur-lined manacles, butt plugs, ball gags…so many instruments of torture, of pleasure, that it was like a kid being let loose in a candy store. Mulder found it impossible to resist the urge to reach out, and touch the beautiful array.

 

"Ow!" He jumped, more in surprise than pain, as his hand was slapped firmly away.

 

"You can look, but you must never, ever, touch without my permission," Skinner told him. "It'll be your responsibility to clean the toys after a session, under my supervision of course. You will not be given a key to this room. You will only come in here in my presence, or at my command. Understood?"

 

"Yes, sir." Mulder whispered, still awe-struck. "Jeez…what's that?" He pointed to what looked like a set of loosely tied twigs.

 

"A birch." Skinner reached out a big hand and massaged the back of Mulder's neck, proprietarily. "Do you like the idea of being birched, Fox?" He asked, his voice low and deep in Mulder's ear. "It's an interesting sensation - and very safe. You can use the birch over most parts of the body. It's light, and scratches, like several tiny, biting little stings. It's nothing like the heavier instruments. It has its own completely unique sensation." Skinner spoke like a true connoisseur, and Mulder would have been happy for his Master to rip his clothes off and treat him to a demonstration there and then. Skinner laughed out loud, as if guessing Mulder's thoughts.

 

Mulder continued his examination of the cupboards. He saw a set of satin blindfolds, and a sumptuous silk shirt out of the corner of his eye, and was intrigued. Skinner's taste seemed to range from the purely functional, to the deeply erotic and sensual. Further inspection revealed another cupboard filled completely with costumes, boots, and other accessories. It was like finding Aladdin's cave, Mulder thought to himself.

 

"I think I could spend all day in here, just looking," he told his Master with a deeply satisfied sigh.

 

Skinner grinned. "You'll be spending several of your days in here, and your nights, don't worry," he replied. "You'll come to be grateful - when you're lying naked, and suspended in mid-air for hour after hour, that there are so many windows. It gives the sensation of floating," Skinner observed. "You're at the top of the world, surrounded by sky, and nobody can see your bare, tormented flesh but you, and your Master." Skinner's lean, powerful, muscular body was framed by one dark window, and the subtle lighting in the Playroom bathed and caressed his bald head. For a brief moment, Mulder was sure he'd died and gone to heaven.

 

"You have to earn your playtime though," Skinner told him. "This place is designed for fun - although I won't balk at using its facilities for punishment sessions as well, which I'm sure, knowing you as I do, that you'll require."

 

Mulder made a face, which Skinner ignored as he opened a door leading to a massive en-suite bathroom, containing the largest bath Mulder had ever seen in his life. A cursory look around revealed large quantities of lotions and oils, and a sizeable stash of condoms and lubricant. Skinner took a tube of lubricant and a handful of condoms and placed them in his pocket, ignoring Mulder's look of wide-eyed, hopeful curiosity. Then they both stepped back out into the Playroom.

 

"All this…here, all this time, and I never knew," Mulder whispered. "How long have you been in the Lifestyle, sir?"

 

"Personal questions won't be permitted at this early stage in your slavery," Skinner snapped, as he ushered Mulder out of the Playroom, and locked the door behind him. "In time, maybe, you'll earn the right to know, but for now, you have a lot to learn and focus on, and my past is irrelevant."

 

Mulder begged to differ, although he didn't say as much. It seemed incredible to him that Skinner had been living in this place, with all this amazing equipment, and he had never known it - but then again, why should he? Skinner's stern, brisk demeanor at work, could be passed off as purely a necessity of his job. His boss had always been more than a one dimensional bureaucrat though. Mulder had always sensed there was far more than that to the big man - but he would never have guessed about this. On the other hand, who would have guessed about his own alternate lifestyle? Mulder's profiling mind longed to understand his new Master, to know him and understand him - to get a handle on him so that he could start to…control him? To manipulate him in order to get what he wanted? Mulder clenched his fists tightly - Skinner had already pointed out to him that he had an unfortunate tendency to consume his tops. Was he trying to do the same here? Was he trying to reduce his own fear at being under someone else's control by familiarizing himself with them and their methods? Wouldn't that lead straight to the contempt and emptiness that he had felt so often before? Didn't he in fact need the fear in order to get the high?

 

Mulder found Skinner had stopped in the corridor and was waiting for him, his dark eyes seeming to see straight to the heart of Mulder's internal struggle. Mulder managed a wan smile, and Skinner turned and continued down the corridor. At the end, there was a set of stairs.

 

"This is the back way down to my apartment. You can either use the elevator and knock on my door, like any other guest, or you can use the stairs. You have free run of both apartments, but the key to only one." Skinner said, jogging down the two flights of stairs, Mulder at his heels. The top level of the 17th floor apartment contained two large bedrooms, one with an en-suite bathroom, containing another huge bath. Another flight of stairs took them down into the living area of the apartment that Mulder had visited before.

 

"This will be an important room for you." Skinner opened a door and Mulder surveyed the laundry room with a sinking heart. "You'll keep all my clothes laundered. You'll arrange for anything requiring specialist cleaning to receive it." Skinner gave his slave a firm look, as if doubting Mulder's capabilities in these areas. "You'll iron all my shirts." Mulder's heart sank even further as he remembered Skinner's taste for the most crisply ironed apparel. His usual rush job with the iron was clearly not going to be adequate.

 

"You want me to spend my entire life ironing?" He grouched, reasoning that would be all he'd have time for each evening after work.

 

Skinner fixed him with a dark stare. "Did I not make myself clear when I outlined the terms for your slavery?" He asked. "I seem to remember telling you that you would be my valet, and housekeeper. Maybe you're misunderstanding something here, Fox. You're my slave. You'll address yourself to my needs and my pleasures, to making my life run as smoothly as possible. The sooner you get your head around that concept, the easier it'll be for you - and the more rewarding trips to the Playroom we'll make. Understood?"

 

Mulder swallowed down his resentment and nodded.

 

"Good. Now, I suspect you're a disaster in the kitchen, yes?" Skinner raised an eyebrow.

 

Mulder sighed. "Cooking isn't exactly my strong point," he agreed

 

"Fine. There's a list of my favorite restaurants by the phone. Most of them do take-out." Skinner walked briskly back to the kitchen, and showed Mulder where everything was. "Eat whenever you're hungry - and make sure that we don't run out of basics, like bread and milk. There's cash for groceries in this pot. I expect you to take good care of yourself," Skinner looked at Mulder intently. "You swim and run?"

 

"Yes." Mulder nodded.

 

"Good. You'll continue to do that. I might arrange some special training for you," Skinner mused. "Now - I want you to get your stuff from the car, and settle yourself into your room. Later on, I'll inspect what you brought with you."

 

"Inspect?" Mulder echoed, with a frown.

 

"Your taste in ties is frankly atrocious. I'm sure we can dispose with most of them. I'll take you shopping and buy you the sort of clothes it would please me to see my slave wearing," Skinner informed him.

 

Mulder closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall, seeing every little part of himself being chipped away, piece by piece. He opened them again, to find Skinner standing close to him. "At first, it will be hard," Skinner whispered, his voice caressing Mulder's ear. "I'll make allowances for that. You're not trained as a slave - and you need a firm hand." Mulder's hard cock twitched at those words, and he longed to give it some release. Skinner seemed to guess his thoughts. His hand brushed against the front of Mulder's pants.

 

"Another thing," Skinner whispered in Mulder's ear. "This…" he touched Mulder's cock lightly through his jeans, "...is mine. It belongs to me. You can only come when I give you permission from now on - so no jerking off in your bedroom, or the bathroom. I'll know. Trust me, I always know."

 

Mulder felt as if he was no longer breathing - this turned him on more than anything in his life had ever done before. "Yes, Master," he managed to gasp.

 

Skinner smiled. "I've found," he said, his fingers still lightly caressing Mulder's bulging cock, "that the hardest lesson for a new slave to learn is that his own pleasure is irrelevant. For that reason - this," he squeezed Mulder's cock hard, "won't be getting any release for quite some time. Pleasure is earned, and trust me, the rewards are worthwhile." Skinner's lips were so close to Mulder's face that he could feel them brushing against his skin and thought that, permission or not, he'd come then and there. "However, for now, you'll address yourself to my pleasure - and I'll make sure you're well used," Skinner said in that deep, sibilant, tone.

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder moved his face, wanting to find those lips with his own, but Skinner caught his shoulders, and pressed him back against the wall.

 

"You want to be kissed?" He put a finger on Mulder's lips. Mulder nodded, his eyes wide. "Well, those have to be earned too," Skinner told him. He caressed Mulder's bottom lip with his index finger, wet his skin with Mulder's saliva, then wiped the moisture off down the side of Mulder's cheek. Mulder swallowed, mesmerized. "Go and retrieve the contents of your car," Skinner told him, drawing back and getting down to business again. "Then shower, and come back down here for me to do a proper inspection."

 

Mulder scurried to obey. He couldn't remember ever being so turned on his life. Everything Skinner said, everything Skinner did, spoke to some deep need inside him. He felt as if his very soul was being petted and caressed, and his body was so aroused it made him want to scream.

 

Mulder sorted out his meager possessions, realizing as he did so that none of them belonged to him any more - they were merely granted to him by his Master. Now he understood why Skinner was spoken of in hushed whispers on the scene in DC. No wonder the man was legendary. He played this game better, with more sophistication, than any other player Mulder had ever known. Somehow he seemed to see inside Mulder, and to know that keeping him permanently on the brink like this, denying him his freedom, filling his life with tasks of menial devotion, dangling that fantasy room in front of him like a carrot…all of it worked. All of it made Mulder hotter than he'd even been in his life. He glanced down at his poor, stiff cock, so tightly confined in his jeans, wondering when it would ever get its release.

 

Mulder took his shower, carefully avoiding his cock as he soaped himself. He examined the nozzle attachment on the shower head, and inserted it cautiously into his rectum. The sensation was curiously pleasing, as the warm water filled him then flooded out again. Mulder repeated the process several times, making sure that he was clean for his master. His whole body shivered in anticipation at the thought of Skinner taking him, bending him over, fucking him. His fantasies were those of domination - he was used to that, although it had taken him a long time to come to terms with that side of himself. Skinner…he could still barely get over the shock of discovering who his owner was. Could this bizarre arrangement ever work? He wondered what the week ahead would bring. He had booked himself a week's vacation from work on his Master's instruction, and he guessed that Skinner had done the same. What would happen to him in that time? What would Skinner do to him? Could Mulder ever truly accept the mastery of another man? And just how painful would it be finding out? He stood for a long time under that warm water, soothing himself after the momentous events of the day, then he dried himself, dressed, and walked down the stairs to where Skinner was seated in his living room.

 

"Good. I was beginning to wonder where you were. Another five minutes and I'd have summoned you with the bell." Skinner held out a leg. Mulder looked at it questioningly for a moment, before realizing that he was supposed to pull Skinner's boots off for him. He knelt down in front of his master, and pressed his lips against the shiny surface of the boots, his hands caressing Skinner's long, lean legs through the leather. He removed the footwear, and then knelt beside his master again, awaiting further instruction.

 

"I think it's time…" Skinner cleared his throat, and looked down into his slave's willing, hazel eyes, "...to examine my property, don't you?"

 

"If it pleases you, Master." Mulder nodded, his stomach doing a wild flip.

 

"It does please me. Stand up, and get undressed."

 

Skinner leaned back on the couch, and watched the other man thoughtfully as Mulder pulled his tee shirt over his head. He sucked his stomach in, wanting to impress, and Skinner shook his head.

 

"Fox - you're lean enough," he murmured. "Now your pants."

 

Mulder took a deep breath, and shucked them off. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and his hard cock immediately stood to attention. Skinner didn't say anything. He just surveyed his new slave, looking him over, from top to bottom, up and down, then down and up, with excruciating slowness until Mulder was thoroughly unnerved. Didn't his Master like what he was seeing? Mulder couldn't believe that this was happening, that he was standing here, in the middle of this room, having his naked body inspected by his boss. He would never, in a million years, have predicted that such a scenario would happen, and yet, now that it had…it felt so right.

 

"All right. Turn around." Skinner waved his hand in a circular motion, and Mulder did as he was told, presenting his ass to his Master, and clutching his buttocks together tightly, as the tension got to him. "Relax." Mulder heard Skinner get up, and then his bottom was grasped firmly in a pair of big hands. "Hmmm…" Skinner mused, kneading the flesh. Mulder's cock begged him for permission to come, and his mind firmly refused it. He wondered if this was a prelude to his Master having sex with him, and started to shake.

 

"What's this about?" Skinner's warm body pressed even closer behind him. "My slave is trembling - is he scared of me?"

 

"No, Master," Mulder replied. Skinner crossed his arms over Mulder's chest, and pulled him back against his smooth, sleek moleskin pants, and cool silk shirt.

 

"The truth. You'll never be punished for being honest," Skinner whispered in Mulder's ear.

 

Mulder took a deep breath. "I'm…scared of this, of us. How will this work? What about my job? Your job? The X Files. I can't give those up. I can't get my head around all this. Me, standing here as your fucking slave of all things, and, you, you being what you are, what I least expected you to be…and seeing me like this, exposed. I don't know what you're thinking, I don't know who you are…I thought I knew, but I don't any more…"

 

"Ssh." Skinner's lips nuzzled against Mulder's ear. "I told you when I took you as my slave that I wouldn't make you give up your job. On the contrary. It makes you more interesting to me. As to who I am - I'm your Master. That's all you need to know." Mulder felt himself melting back into that warm, strong body, surrendering himself to Skinner's embrace. The heat of Skinner's body stilled his trembling, and he felt calmer. "You mustn't worry about things you have no control over. You made your decision, and now that moment has past. Your choice has been made. There's only one thing you need to worry about from now on. Do you know what that is?"

 

Mulder swallowed, and nodded. "Pleasing you, Master."

 

"That's right. Now, I'll ask you again - are you afraid of me?" Those arms held him tight, too tight to evade the question.

 

"Yes." Mulder bit on his lip. "I don't know what you'll want of me, Master, and I don't know what you'll do to me. I'm worried that I won't please you, or that you'll harm me."

 

"Good." Skinner's teeth nipped at Mulder's earlobe. "That's good, slave. I think a healthy dose of fear is good for a slave, but you know I won't harm you. I might occasionally hurt you, but that's what you want anyway." He gave a low chuckle. "I won't ever harm you though. You'll have to trust me to know the difference. Better now?" Mulder realized that he had stopped shaking, and nodded, then wished he hadn't as Skinner released him. He wanted to stay in that warm, safe embrace forever.

 

Skinner turned him around again, and traced his hands over Mulder's chest. One finger lazily caressed a nipple, and Mulder moaned, and glanced up at the ceiling. His cock was leaking badly. Skinner ran his hand down over Mulder's flat stomach, and then over his long, hard cock. Mulder bit down on his lip, concentrating for all his worth on not coming. Skinner's hand grasped his balls, firmly, and held them, joggling them with his thumb.

 

"Am I… acceptable to you, Master?" Mulder asked.

 

"You're a bit skinny, and you need more definition in places, but you'll do." Skinner laughed, and gave Mulder's rump a resounding slap. He sat down on the couch again, and patted his knee. "Come here, Fox. Over my knee," he instructed. Mulder eyed him warily, wondering if he was about to experience his first spanking.

 

"Why, Master? What are you going to do?" He blurted, then immediately regretted the question. Skinner's expression darkened, and he pointed insistently at his lap.

 

"It's not a dialogue, slave, just do it," he ordered. Mulder nodded, and knelt down cautiously beside his Master, and then laid awkwardly over his knee. Skinner adjusted his position, and then ran his hands lovingly over Mulder's butt. "Relax." Skinner instructed. He continued the rubbing motion for several minutes, until Mulder started to loosen up, his body losing its tension. Then the caress stopped, and Mulder felt his buttocks pried apart. He looked around in alarm, and saw Skinner lubing up his fingers. "I need to see how tight you are," Skinner told him, and Mulder immediately tensed up. "I said, relax." Skinner gave his buttocks a sharp slap, and Mulder had to consciously open up his anus to his Master's probing fingers. "You're tighter than I would have thought. You've had anal sex haven't you?" Skinner asked.

 

"Yes, Master…but…" Mulder hesitated.

 

"Go on." Skinner's finger pushed deeper inside him, and Mulder gasped, enjoying the sensation despite himself.

 

"I found it too uncomfortable, Master, so I didn't request this kind of attention very often…although…" Mulder trailed off, flushing bright red.

 

"Although the idea of it really turns you on, and you love the way it makes you feel dominated," Skinner finished for him.

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder agreed, gasping again, as another finger entered his ass.

 

"Well, it was uncomfortable because you're tight, you're tight because you won't relax, and you won't relax because you never really submit, do you, Fox? You've never really given in, have you?" Skinner stroked Mulder's buttocks with his free hand, and Mulder nodded, feeling wretched. "We'll work on that," Skinner said cheerfully. "I'm skilled in using plugs, and you'll be pleased to know that I can keep an erection for a long time without much stimulation. In fact, we'll start work on stretching you tonight," he told his slave in a matter-of-fact tone, as if discussing the weather. "Okay." He slapped Mulder's butt again. "You can stand up." Mulder slid off Skinner's lap and back into a kneeling position, and Skinner handed him the lube and condoms he had picked up earlier.

 

"Keeping yourself lubed up is your responsibility," he told his slave. "I won't do it in future. And remember that you must make yourself available for my use at any time, and in any place. I suggest you make sure you're always lubricated if you want to avoid the discomfort of a dry fuck." Mulder nodded, and took the lube. "Ditto condoms - your responsibility." Skinner gazed at his slave's still hard cock. "Hmm, what does it take to dampen that down?" He asked.

 

Mulder gave a cheeky grin. "I usually find ejaculation works, Master," he suggested.

 

"Good try." Skinner laughed. "But don't plan on coming any time in the next few days, Fox. I told you - your own pleasure has to be earned. However, I do want to put my cock ring on you, and I can't do that while you're standing to attention like this…I have an idea." He took hold of Mulder by the shoulder, marched him to the bathroom, turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature to cold, and thrust Mulder underneath it.

 

"Ow, ow, ow!!!" Mulder hopped around under the freezing spray.

 

"Stand still." Skinner commanded, and Mulder did as he was told, shivering dramatically to make his point. Skinner ignored him. After several minutes, Mulder's cock was still managing to hover at half-mast. Skinner glanced at his watch. "I'm impressed," he commented. Mulder gave a weak, apologetic smile. After several more minutes, the offending penis finally shriveled up and was pointing back towards the ground. Skinner turned the shower off, and handed Mulder a towel. "I'm going to retrieve an accessory that might come in useful. Run me my bath while you're in here. Then come back downstairs so I can put your ring on you." He glanced meaningfully at Mulder's cock, and Mulder shivered and nodded.

 

He dried himself, then smeared lube on his fingers, and inserted them into his anus - Skinner's command on that subject echoing resoundingly through his mind. He resolved to lube himself whenever he used the bathroom. Mulder stared dreamily into space as his fingers caressed deep inside his body. He loved the feeling of being fucked, but the pain was usually too intense for him to bear. Skinner was right - Mulder only paid lip service to his submission. He was never truly open, he never truly accepted a top into his body, without resistance. Now he belonged to someone who intended to break down that resistance. It scared him - and aroused him. He wondered what time it was - late he thought, certainly well after midnight. He was exhausted after the day's events, yet still on a high. He wondered whether Skinner would fuck him tonight. A part of him wanted to get it over with, but another part was just so tired, he wasn't sure he could cope with it. Living on the edge, with the strain of constantly wondering when it would happen, was unnerving him.

 

Mulder returned to the living room, fished the cock ring out of his jeans pocket, and went to kneel before his Master. Skinner slid the ring over first one testicle, then the other, before taking Mulder's cock in his hand. It immediately started to stiffen. Skinner raised his eyebrows despairingly, and Mulder shrugged helplessly.

 

"Is it my fault if my Master is so damn hot?" He asked.

 

"Flattery - it sometimes works." Skinner grinned, then brought the back of his hand down with a firm slap on Mulder's hardening member. Mulder yelped. "And sometimes not," Skinner said, taking advantage of the moment to slide his slave's cock firmly into place inside the ring. Mulder's cock started to harden again, and was painfully constricted by the metal. "That's better," Skinner commented approvingly. He picked up a smooth butt plug, that was lying on the coffee table. Mulder guessed that this was the object his Master had gone to retrieve.

 

"Over my knee again." Skinner pointed, and Mulder obeyed swiftly this time. Skinner held Mulder's buttocks open with one hand, and Mulder felt the cool, hard edge of the butt plug as the tip was inserted inside him. He tensed up immediately. Skinner sighed. "You're really going to have to learn to open yourself up to me," he admonished.

 

"I'm trying, Master," Mulder muttered.

 

"Not hard enough. This is tiny - my cock is much bigger, trust me." Skinner stroked his hapless slave until Mulder relaxed, and then he swiftly rammed the butt plug home. "You'll have to grip it with your muscles or it'll slide out," Skinner instructed, "and that's unacceptable. You'll wear it until I remove it."

 

"Just like everything else," Mulder muttered. Skinner laughed, and slapped his upturned buttocks.

 

"Careful, slave. Smart remarks might get you into trouble," he warned, returning Mulder to the floor. Mulder got up, feeling the butt plug inside him. It was a strange sensation, but the plug was slender, and not more than vaguely uncomfortable.

 

"Is my bath ready?" Skinner asked.

 

"I would think so, Master."

 

Skinner got up, and Mulder hesitated. "Master…" He bit on his lip.

 

"Well?" Skinner asked.

 

"Um…the other rings…?" Mulder quaked.

 

"Ah, you're worried about the piercing." Skinner reached out a gentle hand, and caressed Mulder's damp neck. "Don't be. It'll be a beautiful ceremony. I'll make sure it's an experience you remember for a very long time indeed." He gently kissed Mulder's eyelashes, then his nose. "I can't wait to decorate these beauties." He tweaked Mulder's nipples firmly, squeezing them between thumb and forefinger, and Mulder gasped, his cock biting into the unfamiliar, cool metal of the ring as it hardened again. "But it will have to wait. We have other things to do first…and there are other ways to mark you." Skinner gave a mysterious smile, and, with one last tweak of Mulder's nipples, strode upstairs to the bathroom. Mulder picked up his clothes and followed him, uncomfortably aware of the butt plug inside him. He had to clench his buttocks tightly around it to keep it in place.

 

"Don't get dressed," Skinner instructed. "I like seeing my slave's naked body, and as for the bath - it needs oil in it, and it's too hot," he said after putting a finger in to test it. Mulder nodded, and turned on the cold water, then dropped some scented oil from a bottle into the water.

 

"Now, undress me," Skinner commanded.

 

Mulder's heart thudded, as he approached his Master. He couldn't wait to touch that body, and worship his new owner. He had always been a good sub, but he had never felt like this before. The desire to please his Master was overwhelming. He stepped forward, and with shaking fingers undid the buttons on Skinner's shirt, then smoothed it carefully open. His fingers tangled in Skinner's chest hair, and lingered on the big man's nipples. Skinner smiled down at him indulgently. Thus encouraged, Mulder pressed his face against Skinner's chest, and licked him, and Skinner's hand came up and caressed his slave's thick hair. Mulder undid the solid silver buckle on Skinner's belt, and pulled it out of the other man's pants, then he moved on to the buttons, and finally he smoothed the soft, moleskin fabric down Skinner's long legs. He ended up kneeling at his Master's feet, where he helped him step out from the pants, and then removed his Master's socks. He finished by kissing each toe on those perfect golden feet. Skinner laughed.

 

"You know some pretty tricks, but it'll take more than that," he said.

 

Mulder nodded. "I know. I can give more."

 

"Not more - you have to give me it all. Give me everything," Skinner whispered, running his hands over his slave's face. Mulder nodded, enraptured by the words.

 

"I will. I can. I'll learn. I want to…so much," he whispered, knowing it was true. He reached out almost reverentially, and placed his thumbs under the waistband of Skinner's black silk boxer shorts, lowering them carefully over the other man's semi-erect cock, and easing them down to his ankles. Skinner stepped out of them, and Mulder sat back on his heels and worshipped wordlessly at his Master's shrine. Skinner's cock was beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. Thick, full, long, powerful, clean honey-toned flesh…Mulder couldn't resist burying his face in the other man's groin, and gently tonguing that resplendent cock, taking it into his warm mouth. Skinner sighed, and stroked Mulder's hair softly, then withdrew.

 

"You're doing very well, slave," the big man murmured, and Mulder felt a curious sense of joy at the praise. "Kneel down in the corner of the room, and await further instruction."

 

Mulder did as he was told, and watched as his Master stepped into the bath, his magnificent body settling into the warm water with a sigh. Skinner closed his eyes, and was still. Minutes passed, and Mulder feasted his eyes on his Master, devouring him with his gaze. Skinner's strength, even while resting, was so appealing. Mulder's gaze lingered on the other man's broad chest and hard pecs, the wiry chest hair, and firm, no-nonsense jawline.

 

Mulder longed to have further proof of the man's ownership, to feel the condition of his slavery even more intensely than at this moment, kneeling here, waiting. He longed to be used, to have Skinner take him, make love to him, overwhelm him with his energy, his power, and his hard muscled body. Mulder couldn't believe that he was kneeling here, butt naked, in this agony of anticipation, waiting for his Master to notice him. It would have made a pretty hot scene, but it was real. This was his life from now on. He tried to get his head around that fact, but the throbbing in his captive cock tormented and distracted him. He had a mental image of himself, kneeling here, wearing three of his Master's rings. He glanced down at them - the collar, the wedding ring, the cock ring, and closed his eyes, imagining what the piercing would feel like, and loving the idea of wearing the final two symbols of slavery that his Master had given to him. Here at last was the escape, the release from everyday life that he had sought for so long, but would it, could it, last? Could he give up everything to Skinner as he had promised, and would his Master love him, and protect him, in the way Mulder craved?

 

After about twenty minutes of silent devotion on Mulder's part, Skinner sat up.

 

"Wash me," he commanded.

 

Mulder scurried to obey. He picked up the soap, and ran it lovingly over his Master's body, delighting in being able to touch the other man. Then he used a washcloth to firmly remove the soap, stealing little kisses along Skinner's shoulders as he worked. His Master smiled tolerantly, amused by his slave's devotion. Finally Skinner stood up, and Mulder dried him down, and then wrapped him in his robe.

 

"Next time, see that it's warmed," Skinner instructed.

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder bowed his head, and followed as Skinner went to his bedroom.

 

"Come here." Skinner pointed to the floor, seating himself on the bed. Mulder scurried over and knelt between his Master's legs. "You've done very well this evening. I know all this is new to you - but you'll learn," Skinner told him, caressing his face softly. "I think you've earned your kiss." He dipped his head down, and claimed Mulder with his mouth, his hard lips opening Mulder's, his tongue thrusting into Mulder's open mouth, tasting him. Mulder surrendered to the embrace, hanging helplessly between his Master's legs, holding onto his knees as the world spun around him. Skinner's kiss was an embrace, a promise, a caress and an act of domination, all rolled into one. Finally, after a thorough exploration of his slave's mouth, Skinner released him.

 

"Thank you, Master," Mulder gasped.

 

"You're welcome." Skinner ruffled Mulder's hair. "Now, let me outline a few more rules, Fox. I expect to be woken every weekday morning at 6 am, and every weekend morning at 9 am, with a cup of coffee, my newspaper, and a blow job."

 

Mulder's eyes widened, then he grinned, and nodded. "I think I can manage that, Master," he said cheerfully.

 

"I'm sure you can," Skinner commented dryly. "After coffee, I'll apply a little discipline - as much or little as I think you need to remind you of your status in this household." Mulder's cock rocketed into the air at that news. "We have a week to get you settled in. By the time we return to work, hopefully you'll be halfway trained. I expect there will be new trials and tribulations to face then, but we'll deal with them as they arise. That's all you need to know for now," Skinner said. He sat back and gazed at Mulder speculatively. "Now, I think want to feel my new slave's talented mouth again. Open my robe, and suck me."

 

Mulder did as he was told, eagerly swallowing Skinner's hardening dick. It felt magnificent in his mouth - his master's cock, hard and strong, tasting of Him, smelling of Him.

 

"Hands behind your back," Skinner instructed, leaning back with a contented sigh. "I want you to devote yourself to your task using only your mouth." Mulder did as instructed, enjoying the semi- bondage of holding his hands behind his back. He gave himself up to his devotion with his usual single-minded attention to detail, devouring Skinner's cock with his experienced tongue. He felt when Skinner was on the verge of coming, and looked up at his Master for further orders. Skinner made a small gesture with his eyes, and Mulder continued his enjoyable task to its conclusion, swallowing his Master's come gratefully. "Good, very good." Skinner stroked Mulder's hair as Mulder cleaned up his spent cock with gentle laps of his tongue. "Now, it's been a long day. I think it's time you were in bed."

 

Mulder got up eagerly, and started to climb onto the bed, but Skinner laughed, and shook his head. "Your bed, slave. You have to earn the right to sleep with me."

 

Mulder's heart sank. "Doesn't Master want to…?"

 

"Make use of you? No," Skinner said firmly. "I'll decide when and where. Until then, you'll just have to wait, slave-boy." Skinner stood up, and clicked his fingers at the door. "Remember, the cock ring stays in place - as does the butt plug. All night." Skinner told him, a fierce look in his dark eyes. Mulder swallowed, and nodded. "Fox - I'll expect my wake up call at 9 am," his Master reminded him, his expression softening, and a smile creasing out the severity from his features. Mulder basked in the warmth of that smile for a moment, and then fled.

 

It felt strange going to bed in his new room. Mulder lay on his back, thinking over the day's events. As a player, he knew that he had finally met his match. Skinner's refusal to sleep with him filled him with awe. The man was playing him like a musical instrument, denying him his pleasure, keeping him always on the edge. Nothing could have turned Mulder on more than being told "no" at this point. By being refused his Master's bed, he now wanted nothing more than to sleep in it. Whereas he had been apprehensive about anal sex, now he longed to welcome Skinner's beautiful cock into his body. The waiting, the wrong-footing, kept him permanently aroused. Mulder couldn't ignore his poor, aching cock any more. The cock ring kept him almost permanently erect, and he wasn't used to the feel of it digging into his flesh. Right now, he just wanted to come - as soon as possible. The fact that his Master had forbidden him to remove the ring was like a red rag to a bull; Mulder thrived on such rebellions. He went into the bathroom, and wrapped a cold wash cloth around his cock, until it was flaccid, then he took off the ring, and within seconds he was fully erect. He lay on his bed, jerking himself off, wriggling to maximise the sensation of the butt plug inside him, poor substitute though it was for his Master's cock. He soon tasted his sweet release, coming harder than he could ever remember in his life before, then he cleaned himself up, and put the cock ring back on. Skinner wouldn’t know. How could he?

 

Mulder returned to bed, smiling to himself. He would use this situation to get what he wanted, but still retain his own control. Skinner couldn't stop him doing what he liked in the privacy of his own bedroom. Mulder had no intention of submitting beyond the level that gave him his own pleasure - maybe his new Master had met his match too.

 

Feeling pleased with himself, he closed his eyes, and thought longingly of the contents of that Playroom, with its vast, wide windows looking out onto a world that couldn't look back in. Soon…soon…soon…

 

 

24/7: Next Chapters