24/7

 

Author: 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 LoveSlave!Fic: Acted - TV & Movies

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Chapter 7: I Must Be Honest With My Master Chapter 8: It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To Chapter 9: Suits You, Sir Chapter 10: Master's Day Chapter 11: Ring, Master

Chapter 7: I Must Be Honest With My Master

Mulder paused outside Skinner's door, carrying two cups of coffee. It was amazing - he'd only been living here for a few days, and already Skinner was allowing him to sleep in his bed, to have sex on demand, and to skip the ironing chores. He'd even promised to give Wanda away to Scully. Mulder smiled, and pushed open the door: everything was good. He felt safe, secure, loved, and the sex was so damned hot! This was everything he could have hoped for, or dreamed of. What could possibly go wrong? He entered the bedroom, and stopped short. The coffee spilled, dark brown liquid spiraling in slow motion, scalding his naked chest.

 

Skinner wasn't in the bed.

 

He was standing by the window, frozen, caught in the beam of a bright light. Mulder shouted at him to get away, ran to the night-stand, found a gun, aimed it, and tried to fire, but nothing happened. He could hear his own voice from a great distance, screaming, and his chest hurt. He watched, helplessly, as Skinner disappeared in front of him, and he couldn't do, or say, anything to bring him back. As the light faded, Mulder knelt down beside the bed, and cried until his ribs ached, and his chest hurt damn it! It hurt.

 

Mulder woke up, still sobbing from the dream. His chest did hurt - his nipples throbbed from the piercing yesterday. His cock twitched as he recalled the erotic heat of that ceremony, and he longed to pump it into a full erection, and jerk off, but Skinner had hobbled that particular pastime by strapping him into the chastity belt again. His Master had also warned him that he wasn't allowed to come for the next few days, so he'd be wearing the damn thing every night until the party, after which he'd consider the situation again, depending on how well Mulder behaved. Four days without being able to come! Here he was, slap-bang in the middle of the most erotic situation he'd ever been in, in his entire life, and he was unable to relieve the pressure. It was a most exquisite torture, and his Master seemed to know the best way to manipulate it for maximum torment value. His Master… Mulder felt a cold sweat sweep over him as the full details of the dream came flooding back. He tried to calm himself. He wasn't exactly a stranger to insomnia, but he'd never had this particular nightmare before.

 

He got up, turned the light on, and the sparkling gold of the nipple rings caught his attention as he passed the mirror on his way to the bathroom. His nipples were erect, and if they weren't so damned painful he'd have enjoyed how enticing they looked. As it was, he shuddered at the very thought of anyone touching them. His Master had already exhibited a strong interest in this particular part of his anatomy, so he might well choose to fondle them. Mulder knew there was nothing he could do if Skinner wanted to play with any part of his slave's body, but he was hoping that his Master would be merciful, and allow the painful nubs of flesh a few days in which to heal.

 

Mulder winced as he saw how pale he looked, with dark shadows under his eyes. Damn! Where had that dream come from? He went to the bathroom, then crawled back into bed, but, try as he might, he couldn't erase the image of Skinner disappearing from sight, wrenched away from him. Taken, just as Samantha and Scully had been taken, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. He was always so damn helpless, a victim of circumstance, and fate. It was as if everyone he loved was doomed to this particular fate. Everyone he loved…Mulder bit on his lip. Love. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to fall in love with anyone. Skinner had entered his heart like an unstoppable force of nature, and taken up residence there as if it were a kingdom he had been born to rule.

 

Mulder tossed and turned, and then finally gave up any hope of sleep. He thought about Skinner lying all alone in his bed, unprotected, unaware of the danger he was in, and struggled with himself for half an hour. He knew he was being stupid, that it had just been a dream that had tapped into his worst fear, but he couldn’t stop himself worrying. Losing Skinner would just about kill him. However likely or unlikely, he couldn't just stand by and let it happen. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he did. Mulder got up, picked up his blanket and pillow, grabbed his gun for good measure, then crept noiselessly down the stairs. He paused for a moment outside Skinner's bedroom, then took his life in his hands, and opened the door.

 

Skinner was lying under the bedclothes, arms and legs outstretched as always, in a pose of abandoned repose. Wanda was nestled under one of his strong, muscular arms. She looked up as Mulder came in, and he willed her to be silent. She didn't move, just stared at him with those glowing green eyes as he lay down on the floor at the foot of the bed, and pulled the blanket around him. He didn't even want to think about the trouble he'd get into if Skinner found him here. It was just where he needed to be. Mulder fell asleep within seconds, reassured by the deep, comforting sound of his Master's breathing.

 

He awoke just after 8 am, wondering why he was suffocating. He soon located the source of the problem: Wanda was sitting on his chest, gazing at him curiously with her shining eyes. Clearly the novelty value of having a strange man lying on the floor for half the night had been too much for her.

 

"Wanda, there's a saying you should be aware of. It goes 'curiosity killed the cat'. Remember that," Mulder hissed in an undertone, casting a glance at his sleeping Master to make sure he wasn't in deep shit. He sent up a swift prayer of thanks to whatever deity looked out for insomniac slaves for the fact that his Master was clearly a deep sleeper, and disengaged himself from Wanda, placing her soundlessly back on the bed.

 

"Just view it as a friendly warning," he whispered, patting her head. She emitted a trilling purr that erupted like the sound of a volcano in the quiet room, and Mulder hotfooted it for the door, making it just in time as his Master mumbled something drowsily in his sleep, and turned over.

 

"Did you sleep okay?" Skinner asked, an hour or so later, looking at his slave keenly as he sat up and accepted the coffee Mulder brought him.

 

"Yes. Why?" Mulder replied defensively. Of all the Masters, in all the world, why the hell had he been lumbered with the one with eyes in the back of his head, and the ability to seemingly know what was going on in the entire household when he was clearly fast asleep?

 

"Because of your piercing," Skinner replied mildly. "I thought you might have been in some discomfort during the night."

 

"Oh, yeah. That." Mulder shrugged. "No. I'm fine."

 

"So you slept okay?" Skinner repeated, those dark eyes still staring at him searchingly.

 

"Yes. I slept fine," Mulder lied, just managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes in irritation at his Master's sudden obsession with his sleeping habits. He let out a startled yelp, as Skinner put the coffee down smartly on the night-stand, plucked his ear between his thumb and forefinger, and dragged him onto the bed, delivering several slaps to his upturned rump in quick succession.

 

"I'm hearing some attitude this morning," Skinner told him, cheerfully peppering this statement with a series of stinging slaps.

 

"I'm sorry!" Mulder gasped, taken by surprise.

 

"No, I'm still hearing it." Skinner clamped one hand firmly over Mulder's waist, and began whaling his slave's ass in earnest.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…Master!" Mulder yelled at last, dimly realizing what had offended his Master. The spanking stopped, abruptly.

 

"That's better. Kneel." Skinner clicked his fingers, and Mulder quickly obeyed, getting into position beside the bed, back straight, and head down. "All right, let's start again. Did you sleep well last night, slave?"

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder responded immediately.

 

"Are you sure? You're not exactly looking bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning."

 

Mulder looked up, suppressing a sigh. How the hell did Skinner get to be this observant? Was he never going to get anything past his Master?

 

"My chest did hurt a bit in the night, Master," he admitted finally.

 

"Did you take any painkillers?" Skinner asked.

 

"Um, no." Mulder remembered the medicine cabinet in his private bathroom. He had been so preoccupied by his nightmare that he hadn't even thought of taking any painkillers, but he wasn't going to admit that to Skinner. He never spoke of his restless nights - not to Scully, not to anyone. Investigating the causes of his insomnia required a level of self-analysis that he didn't feel capable of. He was so used to his fucked-up, dysfunctional life that he didn't even think there might be a solution to any of it, and he sure as hell wasn't telling Skinner that his worst nightmare was seeing his Master whisked off by a spaceship. For a start, that would mean admitting how much the other man meant to him, to say nothing of the fact that he'd probably die laughing at the absurdity of it.

 

"Why not?" Skinner took a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving those of his slave.

 

"I don't know," Mulder snapped, with a sulky shrug. "Master," he added hastily as Skinner's face darkened.

 

"Well in future, please remember to take better care of yourself," Skinner told him firmly.

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder muttered.

 

"Good. Go and get me a bowl with some boiled water in it, and the salt," Skinner instructed, "and bring me some cotton balls as well."

 

Mulder scurried to obey, and returned a few minutes later with the requested items, laying them on the night-stand. Wanda wandered over and sniffed at them curiously, clearly intrigued by the proceedings.

 

"On the bed. I think we'll do a thorough inspection today," Skinner told him, clicking his fingers.

 

Mulder felt stupid clambering onto the bed and trying to arrange his long limbs as tidily as possible for Skinner's examination.

 

"All right - I'm going to start your leash training today, so we might as well start with some basic commands," Skinner said, as he surveyed his slave's clumsy maneuvering. "When I click my fingers, you'll assume the kneeling position that I've already taught you. Kneel facing me on the bed - you can put your knees on either side of my legs. That's right." He moved Mulder into position. "Hands behind your back, eyes down. I've noticed that you're not very good at keeping your eyes down, slave."

 

"No, Master. Sorry, Master." Mulder bit on his lip, keeping his eyes lowered. "I like reading your expressions, Master."

 

"Well, you can listen to what my voice tells you instead," Skinner replied. "You should learn to respond to non-visual clues, Fox. I want you to become attuned to every aspect of my command - from my voice to my gestures."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded. This was so hard though! He liked looking at his Master, and he found it almost impossible to keep his head down, in the submissive position. He was just too curious, too eager to know what was happening, and to figure out a response to it.

 

"I suspect that you disobey me on this because you're fighting your submission," Skinner observed. "Isn't that the case? You're so busy trying to read my response to you, that you aren't thinking about pleasing me. I've already told you that addressing yourself to my needs is the only thing you need concern yourself with. Forget about yourself, Fox, and learn to embrace your submission."

 

"I'll try, Master," Mulder replied in a small voice. He let out a deep sigh, and Skinner chuckled.

 

"I know - it's hard, but we'll get there," he said gently, kissing his slave's forehead. "If I want you to look at me, I'll lift your chin up. When I want you to look down again, I'll click my fingers. Understood?"

 

"Yes, Master."

 

"Good. Remember it then. Now, let me have a look at these."

 

Mulder watched from under lowered lashes, as Skinner's hand came into his field of vision, making a beeline for his sore nipples. It was all he could do not to flinch, as his Master investigated the newly pierced nubs of flesh gently but thoroughly, then reached for the bowl of salt water.

 

"I'll bathe these twice a day. It might hurt," Skinner warned him. Mulder nodded, and took a sharp intake of breath as his Master carefully dabbed the warm water over his sore flesh. It was actually quite soothing, and he soon relaxed, but he yelped when Skinner gently turned one of the rings, and put his hands out instinctively, looking up. Skinner paused, and flicked his fingers again.

 

"Eyes down, hands behind your back. Get used to it, Fox," he said softly. Mulder swallowed hard, and then did as he was told. He'd found that one of the hardest thing about his slavery was allowing Skinner to touch his body whenever, and however, he wanted - but it was also one of the things that aroused him most as well. Skinner finished up with his nipples, much to Mulder's relief, and continued his inspection.

 

He undid the chastity belt, and examined his slave's cock, and balls, although Mulder wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for.

 

"Is there a problem, Master?" he asked, as the examination continued for several interminable minutes, during which his cock started to swell and rise.

 

"No, I just enjoy touching my slave, and you know, I'm thinking that a piercing would look pretty here." Skinner grinned, caressing the tip of Mulder's cock.

 

Mulder looked up in alarm. "Please, Master…" he said weakly.

 

"Any argument with that?" Skinner asked dangerously.

 

Mulder hesitated for a long time before backing down. "No, Master," he whispered.

 

"Good. Fox - you're supposed to be in deep submission right now. I don't recall asking you a question, or giving you permission to look up." He clicked his fingers, and Mulder reluctantly lowered his eyelashes. "That's better." Skinner slapped his rump lightly. "Turn around. I told you today's inspection would be thorough, and that's exactly what it's going to be. On your hands and knees, slave."

 

Mulder obeyed, flushing furiously. He found this to be the most humiliating position of all - butt raised in the air, right in front of his Master's nose, and not for the purpose of their mutual pleasure, just for inspection. He felt Skinner's hands on his bottom, stroking, and prodding. His Master trailed along a sore area with his finger, and Mulder winced.

 

"This is where I punished you yesterday afternoon. I told you that would leave a mark. Do you remember the lesson you were being taught with that punishment?" Skinner's fingers pressed hard on his sore butt, and Mulder gave a strangled yelp. "I'm waiting. If you can't remember the lesson less than 24 hours after the punishment, then I'll clearly have to make your corrections more…memorable."

 

"Ow! Sorry, Master. I do remember," Mulder gasped. "I must not disobey my Master. That was the lesson!"

 

"Good."

 

Mulder bit on his lip, as Skinner's finger continued to examine the welted area in exquisitely painful detail. Then he moaned as Skinner pried his buttocks apart, and inserted a finger into his anus, wriggling it around. It felt different, and Mulder realized, too late, that after his interrupted night, he had forgotten to lube himself.

 

"Fox, you're dry. Supposing I'd wanted to use you this morning?" Skinner asked.

 

"I'm sorry, Master. I forgot." Mulder wriggled as Skinner inserted a second finger, and then a third. He was rewarded by a slap on his bottom.

 

"Still." Skinner commanded. "Forgetting isn't good enough, Fox. Have you ever experienced a dry fuck?"

 

"No, Master."

 

"Well, trust me, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. Can you feel that this is more uncomfortable dry?" He pushed all three fingers forcefully into Mulder's anus, making Mulder gasp.

 

"Yes, Master," he panted.

 

"Well, imagine it's my hard cock, slave," Skinner said shortly. "You're a bit red here after yesterday, so I'm not going to use you today. This…" he thrust his fingers deep into Mulder's anus, and twisted them, making his slave yelp, "will have to get used to receiving me on a daily basis, but we have more than enough ground to cover today without wasting time on pleasure."

 

Mulder's heart sank at that statement but he didn't dare say anything. Skinner withdrew his fingers and clicked them again, and Mulder turned around and knelt obediently, facing his Master.

 

"Hands out." Skinner ordered, dipping his own hands in the water, and wiping them on the washcloth beside the bed. Mulder obeyed, confused.

 

"Why does Master want to inspect my hands?" He asked, as Skinner took hold of his wrists, and examined each finger in detail.

 

"Has my slave forgotten that he's in deep submission and forbidden to speak until spoken to right now?" Skinner asked.

 

"No, Master," Mulder sighed. After a shitty night, it looked as if he was in for a shitty day. His nipples throbbed, and his head felt like it was filled with sawdust after his nightmare and lack of sleep. He wanted to scream, and shout, but instead he was forbidden speech altogether. Mulder wondered how the hell he was going to get through this day without bringing his Master's wrath tumbling down on him like a ton of bricks.

 

Skinner finished his inspection of Mulder's hands, then examined his head, sifting through his hair as if looking for nits, and bending his ears back to look behind them. Mulder endured this with a growing sense of frustrated humiliation. Skinner tugged at the hair under his arms, and chest, then continued down his belly, stopping to insert his little finger carefully into Mulder's navel, for no reason Mulder could fathom, then his Master's firm, capable fingers traveled down his thighs, and examined his feet. Finished with that, Skinner tipped his slave's face up, and ordered him to open his mouth. Mulder obeyed, flushing to the roots of his dark hair. He felt like a damned horse being examined for purchase! Skinner felt around in his mouth for what seemed like hours, then he let him go, and sat back, regarding his slave with a frown.

 

"Your fingernails are dirty, and a couple of them are broken. Your hair could do with a cut, and you haven't brushed your teeth this morning," he said briskly. "To say nothing of the fact that you haven't prepared yourself properly for my use. You will, in future, ensure that whenever you are in my presence your grooming is impeccable. The same applies for when we return to work, when I will expect you to look your best whenever I see you. Your hair grows quickly?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder replied sullenly from under lowered lashes.

 

"Then I'll trim it once a week starting this weekend," Skinner said.

 

"What?" Mulder looked up, alarmed.

 

"Problem, slave?" Skinner asked.

 

"No, Master…just…I hope Master isn't going to make my appearance, um, emulate his own," Mulder said, then regretted it instantly.

 

"You think I'm going to shave your head?" Skinner roared with laughter. "Why would I do that? I love your hair, slave, and, you know, I wouldn't want it too short, or I wouldn't be able to do this with it." He buried his fist deep into Mulder's locks, and tugged his slave's head back so that his throat was exposed, then ran a finger down his jaw, and over his Adam's Apple. Mulder hung in mid-air, trying to keep his hands behind his back, as Skinner licked a line from his collarbone to his chin, finishing up at his slave's lips, and kissing him firmly. Mulder moaned.

 

"You really like being kissed don't you?" Skinner grinned, releasing him a few seconds later.

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder agreed.

 

"Well, perhaps if you behave yourself, you'll earn more kisses." Skinner's words sounded somewhat ominous to Mulder's mutinous ears. "Now, it's time for your morning discipline. We'll do things differently today. Go and brace yourself against the wall. Hands flat, legs open, butt out. We'll call this the Grace position shall we?"

 

"The Grace position, Master?" Mulder raised an eyebrow, but he did as he was told, scrambling off the bed, and going to stand in front of the wall, placing his hands on it, and sticking his butt out.

 

"That's right," Skinner took up position behind him, and delivered a stinging slap to Mulder's backside. "As in, 'for what we are about to receive, may the lord make us truly thankful.'" He punctuated this statement with a series of smacks to Mulder's exposed ass. Mulder made a face. Really, the scariest factor about this whole Master/slave thing was discovering the true weirdness of Skinner's sense of humor. It had been bad enough discovering his Master had one at all, but it just kept getting worse with each new corny pun and wisecrack. "Keep that ass out, ready and waiting, slave," Skinner ordered, as Mulder hopped from foot to foot, trying to ease the pressure of the punishment on his already sore backside.

 

It took all Mulder's willpower to stay with his hands flat, his legs open, and his ass pushed up to receive the punishment his Master was dishing out. Skinner was as thorough as ever, although he did only use his hand, for which Mulder really was truly thankful. He still remembered the vicious sting of that paddle his Master kept in his night-stand.

 

"What are you, Fox?" Skinner asked, the familiar morning litany, slapping his slave firmly on the middle of his ass.

 

"A slave, Master." Mulder panted, his cock going hard, and immediately lurching into a full erection.

 

"Wrong. Again." Skinner slapped him hard.

 

"Ow! Um…oh, your slave, Master. I'm your slave!" Mulder yelped.

 

"Good. And what is your status?"

 

"None, Master! I have none. I exist to serve you!" Mulder cried.

 

The spanking came to an abrupt halt, and Skinner turned him around.

 

"Thank me," he ordered.

 

Mulder swallowed, and nodded, then knelt and kissed his Master's beautiful toes. "Thank you, Master," he whispered.

 

He looked up at Skinner's magnificent, naked body, and felt a wave of serenity wash over him. He blinked back his tears, and kissed his Master's toes again, and then again, hiding his face from the other man, not wanting him to see how much he loved him. All he could think about was that damn nightmare, and how much losing his Master would hurt. I can't lose you, Master. I'll protect you with my life…

 

"All right," Skinner said softly, soothing Mulder's hair. "Stand up, little one."

 

Mulder obeyed, trembling slightly. Skinner pressed his lips softly against Mulder's forehead, and pulled him close, fondling his buttocks lightly as he pressed him against his body. Mulder's hard cock got even harder, and Skinner laughed. "You're amazing, slave," he murmured, pushing Mulder away from the warm, comforting circle of his arms.

 

"Master?" Mulder frowned.

 

"Like a car ad." Skinner glanced at Mulder's erect cock. "From zero to fully erect in less than 10 seconds," he grinned. "It's a shame that this," he squeezed Mulder's cock, "won't be racing anywhere for the next few days, but it sure as hell is nice looking at it!" He ran a finger along Mulder's swollen shaft, and Mulder felt himself start to leak. "Hold it, slave," Skinner whispered in an unforgivably sexy tone, making Mulder shiver. "You have to learn to come on order," Skinner told him.

 

"Yes…Master…" Mulder ground out, wishing he could think of anything but the close proximity of his Master to his straining cock right now.

 

"And the cock ring keeps you nice and erect, doesn't it?" Skinner purred, touching the ring, and the hard flesh around it.

 

"Yes…Master…" Mulder gasped, clenching his fists behind his back, desperately wanting to pump his cock into orgasm.

 

"Does it ache, slave-boy?" Skinner asked, circling him, his warm breath caressing Mulder's naked flesh.

 

"Yes, Master…it aches…I want to come, Master." Mulder looked at his Master with a plea in his eyes, but Skinner shook his head.

 

"Not today, not tomorrow, not any day soon, sweetheart," he replied. "After the party, if you've been good all week, then, when I take you to my bed, I might allow you to come. Would you like to come down my throat, slave? Do you think you deserve to have my mouth wrapped around this desperate, needy piece of flesh? Sucking you? Taking your shaft whole and warming it with my tongue?"

 

Mulder closed his eyes, unable to reply.

 

"I'm waiting for an answer, slave!" Skinner's voice hurt him with its intensity.

 

"Master…I want that so bad, I could weep," Mulder managed to stammer at last. "Please, Master…please let me come, let me come now…"

 

"No." Skinner smiled, and flicked a lock of dark hair from his slave's forehead. "Now, we have work to do. Let's recap on what you've learned so far, Fox. The three positions. When I say them, I want you to assume them - immediately, and without question. First - the Submissive position."

 

He clicked his fingers, and Mulder knelt, hastily, hands behind his back, shoulders straight, head down.

 

"Good. The Confessional." Skinner slapped his hands together once, and Mulder immediately went down on all fours, nose pressed against the carpet. "Good - remember the non-verbal signal as well, the single clap. Now, the Grace position."

 

Skinner slapped his hand against his own thigh, and Mulder got to his feet, and leaned against the wall, butt out, legs spread wide, hands flat.

 

"Very good." Skinner delivered a quick smack to Mulder's exposed buttocks, and then turned him around. "I want you to focus all your attention on getting into position whenever I ask you to. I won't always ask verbally, but my non-verbal signals will always be very clear and direct. Follow them, Fox. I expect you to be alert to them at all times. I'm sure you don't need to be reminded that you'll be punished if you're slow or don't pay attention."

 

"No, Master," Mulder agreed, very sure that he knew what sort of punishment to expect for such lapses.

 

"And we have one more position don't we?" Skinner moved close, his large body overwhelming, and Mulder's cock went into a painful spasm against the gold ring. "Wanda." Skinner said in a sibilant undertone, his voice dark with sexual promise. Mulder glanced around frantically, then knelt down by the bed, bending over it.

 

"First things, first," Skinner stood over him, forbiddingly. "Before you get into position you will hand me a condom. When you're bent over, ready, you'll make access easier for me by holding yourself open with your hands until I'm inside you. Understood?" Mulder felt as if his heart had stopped beating, as he nodded, his cock about ready to burst. "Do it then!" Skinner commanded, and Mulder put his head down, and grabbed his buttocks, holding them open. He flushed as he did it - this was the most unbearably humiliating position he'd ever been in, in his life, and yet his cock was practically perpendicular to his body. Skinner stood there, just looking at him for an eternity, and Mulder waited, wondering if his Master was going to take him despite what he'd said earlier. Then a thought occurred to him.

 

"Master…I don't have a condom at the moment," he confessed.

 

"I know that, slave. That's fine, as I have no intention of using you right now. When you're naked in the apartment you will ensure that you have a stash of condoms in every room. You will go and get one, present it to me, and then make yourself available. When you're clothed, and out and about, you will carry a supply of condoms around at all times, in case I should wish to make use of you. You will not talk. When I say this particular word to you, I want you to enter into the deeply submissive mode immediately, and simply present yourself for my use."

 

"Yes, Master. Is there a signal for the word, Master?" Mulder asked, looking up into his Master's dark eyes.

 

"Well, I allowed you to pick the word - why don't you pick the signal too?" Skinner suggested.

 

"Thank you, Master." Mulder swallowed and racked his brains. Skinner seemed to have taken all the best signals already. "Master could…um…cross his arms?" Mulder suggested.

 

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "I cross my arms a lot during the average day, Fox. Unless you want to spend your entire life on your hands and knees, I'd suggest a different signal if I were you."

 

"Master could…make two fists and bang them together once?" Mulder offered.

 

"Hmm, that's verging on Neanderthal. Another suggestion, please, and quickly, slave."

 

"Um…" Mulder thought frantically. "When I was a kid, we got a puppy, and when we were teaching her to lie down, we went like this." He held his hand flat, and moved it down towards the floor.

 

"Okay, that works for me." Skinner looked at his slave thoughtfully, then smiled. "Pup," he said. "I think I'll call you that for the rest of the day, pup. After all, I'm going to be training you to walk on the leash, and you make such sweet puppy-dog eyes. I believe the fox is a member of the canine family as well, although personally I've always thought them fairly feline. You're that same nice mix of cat and dog, puppykins." He tickled Mulder under the chin, and smiled at him fondly.

 

"Yeah, a puppy with a degree from Oxford." Mulder said, tartly, unable to bear the humiliation of that particular term of endearment. He didn't usually give his degree a second thought, but there was something too degrading about being reduced to the level of household pet.

 

"You know, I'm sensing that my slave is having some trouble keeping silent today," Skinner mused. "Is that the case, Fox? If it is, just say, because I have a few tricks that will help you with that little problem."

 

Mulder looked his Master in the eye, and bit back his smart reply. Skinner was looking very dangerous right now, and he had no wish to become acquainted with any of his Master's 'little tricks'. He had a feeling that they were likely to be either very painful, very humiliating, or both.

 

"No, Master." He bowed his head.

 

"You're sure you don't want my help, pup?" Skinner fondled Mulder's ears affectionately.

 

"No, Master. I promise I'll try harder," Mulder whispered.

 

"Good, pup. You know, I think that we should consider getting you your own kennel. What do you say to that, puppykins?"

 

"A kennel?" Mulder echoed faintly.

 

"Yes, a kennel. For the puppy to sleep in." Skinner grinned.

 

Mulder closed his eyes, and swallowed, then opened them again. He had a sudden mental image of himself naked, his long limbs arranged awkwardly in a kennel, and a thick dog's collar around his neck with the name PUPPYKINS written on it.

 

"Whatever pleases Master," he whispered, drowning in his Master's dark, brown-eyed gaze.

 

"Good puppy." Skinner patted his head. "I think we'll keep this theme for a while. It might help you with the problems you're clearly having with obedience today. Let's give the puppy a good wash, and then feed him, shall we?" Skinner grinned, cuffing Mulder lightly around the head, and then shooing him in the direction of the bathroom.

 

The shower was business-like; Skinner had forbidden Mulder to touch him, so he just watched, miserably, as his Master soaped himself down then handed the soap to Mulder. His Master didn't even allow his slave to help him get dressed, so instead Mulder had to kneel in Submissive mode, his eyes cast down so he couldn't even enjoy the sight of his Master pulling on his jeans and tee shirt.

 

If that was bad, breakfast was worse. Mulder knelt by the table, expecting to serve his Master as he had the previous day, but again, Skinner neatly circumvented his expectations, clicking his fingers instead towards the corner. Mulder watched surreptitiously, from under lowered eyelids, as Skinner made some oatmeal, then placed the bowl on the floor in front of him. Mulder looked up at him, horrified.

 

"Breakfast, pup!" Skinner grinned. He seated himself at the table, and immersed himself in the newspaper.

 

"Um, Master hasn't given me a spoon," Mulder pointed out.

 

"That's right, pup, Master hasn't." Skinner didn't even look up, his intent obvious.

 

Mulder sighed loudly and tragically, then hastily lowered his face to the bowl as Skinner looked at him warningly. It wasn't easy, dipping his tongue in the oatmeal, but he managed to consume most of it, although not before thoroughly decorating his face with the creamy mixture. When he'd finished, Skinner put a couple of slices of toast on a plate in front of him. "No hands," his Master warned, and Mulder shot him a look of pure malice.

 

"Problem?" Skinner asked mildly.

 

"No, Master." Mulder swallowed down his reply, and picked up a slice of the toast with his teeth, somehow managing to get a bite of it.

 

"Good, make sure you finish it all up." Skinner patted him on the head and returned to the table.

 

With breakfast over, and his face given a brisk wipe with a cloth, Skinner announced that it was time his puppy learned to walk to heel. Mulder felt his stomach flip, and his nipples started to ache before they'd even begun. He followed Skinner up the stairs, and into the Playroom. It looked totally different to the previous day. Then it had been so nice, and warm, decorated by candles, and today - well today it was a mess. There was wax on the floor, implements strewn around, and the remains of the piercing operation on the table.

 

"Looks like you have some clearing up to do," Skinner glanced at his slave. "I think this is the perfect opportunity to train you to the leash." He clicked his fingers, and Mulder knelt immediately, watching as his Master went over to a cupboard, and returned a few seconds later with a gold chain, and a leather lead.

 

"Shoulders straighter - that's right." Skinner clipped the ends of the short gold chain to each of his nipple rings. "Oh, that's nice," Skinner smiled, opening the cupboard door so that Mulder could see his reflection in the mirror. "Look up, slave - there, don't you look good with this piece of decoration?"

 

Mulder considered himself for a moment. He did look kind of cute, in a slave-boy way, with the gold chain stretched in a loose semi-circle between his nipples. The chain was gossamer light, and didn't tug on the healing flesh.

 

"Yes, Master." He smiled up at the other man.

 

"Sweet pup!" Skinner laughed, and then he unwound the long, leather leash, and clipped that onto the gold chain, midway between the two nipples. "Now, there's no reason why this should be painful," his Master told him, "as long as you remain alert at all times, and concentrate on my every signal, and move. I have no intention of causing you any distress or discomfort during your leash training - if that happens, it'll be because you aren't paying attention. Understood?"

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder gulped, quivering slightly at the thought of any pull on his tender nipples.

 

"All right - let's take this slowly. I'll explain the rules, and then I'll lead you around the room. You can clear up gradually as you go. Firstly - whenever you're on the leash you'll walk to heel. There's no exception to this rule. When I'm walking, you'll walk one step behind me." Skinner started to walk, and Mulder followed him, making sure he kept exactly one step behind. He didn't allow his Master to get any further ahead than that, for fear of creating a pull on his sensitive nipples. Skinner took him on a tour of the room, and then stopped beside the disciplinary implements. Mulder stopped immediately behind him.

 

"Okay, rule number two. Whenever I stop - you kneel." Skinner clicked his fingers and Mulder immediately sank to his knees. The leash stayed loose between them. "Very good," Skinner bent down and kissed his slave soundly on the lips. "Well done, pup. Now, I want you to pick these implements up, and return each item to its proper place in the cupboard. Take them one at a time - and pup?" Skinner looked down into his slave's eager eyes. "There's no need for me to accompany you. When I send you on errands, I'll place the lead in your mouth so it doesn't trail. Open for me." Mulder opened his mouth obligingly, and Skinner slipped the leather between his lips. "I don't want to see any bite marks," Skinner warned. "Hold it under your tongue - that's right." Mulder picked up the rubber tawse and took it to the cupboard, then returned and reached for the sleek black paddle.

 

"Not that." Skinner plucked it out of his hands. "We'll keep that out for now. Let's just call it my doggy paddle shall we?" He grinned maliciously at his own joke. Mulder sighed, and rolled his eyes. Another bad pun - he was beginning to wonder if they weren't more of a torment than all the discipline and slave training put together.

 

It took them a couple of hours intensive work to clear up the room, with Mulder walking to the leash the entire time, every nerve fiber in his body concentrating on following his Master, and obeying his every command - non-verbal as well as verbal. Skinner tested him several times on each position, and introduced some new commands.

 

"Fetch." Skinner pointed at the paddle he'd left on the throne, and Mulder walked over obediently, picked it up in his mouth, and walked back. Then he knelt at his Master's feet, and offered the paddle to him. "Good pup." Skinner fondled his head, and Mulder surprised himself by practically panting with appreciation for the caress, and rubbing his head against his Master's leg.

 

"When I issue the 'stay' command, you'll remain put, wherever you are, until I come back for you. Understood?" Skinner looked down into his slave's willing hazel eyes, and Mulder nodded, uncertainly.

 

"Even at work, Master?" He asked, having a vision of waiting in meeting rooms, or outside Skinner's office for hours on end while Skinner was off elsewhere, leaving him bored.

 

"Fox - do you remember the terms of your contract?" Skinner frowned down at him.

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder gulped.

 

"Then I think you'll recall that your obedience is required at all times, not just when you're naked on the end of my lead," Skinner said sharply. Mulder nodded, his heart sinking. He didn't think he liked this 'stay' word. Somehow, it seemed to be the very opposite of the 'ditch' word, which he was fairly partial to. "In your free time you'll learn the terms of your contract off by heart," Skinner informed him tersely. "I expect you to be able to recite them to me when ordered."

 

"Yes, Master." It wasn't that much of a chore; Mulder was pretty sure he already knew the terms of both contracts by heart.

 

Mulder returned all the implements to the cupboard, then knelt beside his Master again, awaiting further instructions. Skinner took the lead out of his mouth, and led him around the room, opening each blind as he went, letting the daylight in. Mulder knelt beside him obediently each time he stopped, and made sure he stayed exactly one step behind him the entire time. It was tiring, concentrating on each minute detail of his Master's walk, and pretty boring too. Mulder went on automatic. When Skinner reached the end of the row of blinds on one side of the room, he assumed his Master was going to cross the room to the other row of blinds, but instead Skinner wrong-footed him, going in the direction of the cupboards instead. Mulder howled as the leash gave a tiny tug on his nipples, sending shock-waves of pain through his entire body.

 

"Shit, fuck! Shit!" he yelled, stopping immediately.

 

"All right - kneel down." Skinner crouched in front of him and examined his chest carefully. "No damage caused, but I think you learned a lesson. Don't try and second guess where I'm going, pup - just follow me."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder sobbed, leaning his head on his Master's shoulder. Skinner rubbed his back for a moment, then stood up.

 

"Come on, pup, that wasn't so bad, let's continue."

 

"After just having my fucking nipples yanked around? No fucking thanks!" Mulder growled, the aftershock of the tug still reverberating through him. Mulder wasn't sure what happened next, but before he knew it, he was face down over his Master's raised knee, and the paddle was being applied liberally to his ass. After four sharp strokes, that took his breath away, he was walked over to the cupboard, and shoved unceremoniously onto his knees. Skinner pulled out a ball gag, and pushed it into his slave's mouth, fastening it behind his head, with short, angry movements.

 

"That's better." Skinner looked down on his gagged slave. "Now, perhaps you'll lose the attitude."

 

Mulder stared up at him miserably. The ball gag was large, and it kept his mouth uncomfortably open. He felt tired, sexually frustrated, and humiliated, and now he couldn't even damn well say so!

 

"You'll wear that until I see an improvement in you," Skinner warned, then his expression softened. "The sooner you give in, the easier it'll be. Now, try harder," he said, gently fondling his slave's hair. "Fox?" He tipped Mulder's chin, and looked directly into his eyes. Mulder nodded, feeling all the fight leave him. He hated this gag, but more than that, he hated himself for fucking up so badly. He wanted his Master to smile at him again, and call him 'sweetheart', and kiss him, and most of all, he wanted to sleep in his Master's bed on Friday night, and if he carried on like this, he knew that wouldn't happen. He nuzzled his face against Skinner's knee in a gesture of contrition.

 

"Fox - this is for your own benefit. I want to display you at the party, and I want you to be proud of your slavery, and eager to show off your training, but if I don't prepare you properly, then you'll freak out. I told you this week would be hard work." Skinner looked down on his slave thoughtfully. "You look very tired. Are you sure you're feeling okay, Fox?"

 

Mulder stared up at his Master miserably. He knew he should tell Skinner that he hadn't had much sleep the previous night, and he also knew that he should probably tell him about his nightmare, but he just couldn't. He knew how stupid his worries would sound in the cold light of day apart from anything else, and he also knew that it would be clear he had lied this morning when Skinner had asked him how he'd slept. All these thoughts whizzed through his head, and he came to a decision, and shook his head.

 

"Fine, we'll continue then."

 

Skinner picked up the leash again, and started walking. Mulder buried himself in the lesson, the tears pricking at the back of his eyes even while his cock stayed swollen and erect. The idea of being on the end of his Master's lead was so horny he was permanently hard. He could see himself, naked, walking to heel, straining to obey the slightest change in his Master's body language. He hated the gag, but in some ways the silence it afforded him was a relief. As he wasn't able to protest, he had to resign himself to Skinner's will, and, somewhat to his own surprise, he realized that his Master was right: he was happier when he just gave in, and accepted.

 

By the time the Playroom was tidy again, Mulder had returned to that serene state he'd enjoyed briefly the previous day. He knelt, obediently, as Skinner got the harness out of the cupboard, so lost in a submissive daze that he hardly wondered what was going to happen. Skinner smiled at him.

 

"Stand," he ordered, and when Mulder obeyed he pulled his slave into a loving hug. "You've done well, pup." He kissed Mulder's forehead, and held him close, hugging him tightly. Mulder felt as if his entire body had melted into nothing, as he nuzzled into his Master's chest, burrowing there, loving the attention. Skinner looked down on him fondly. "This gag seems to have done the trick, Fox. Is it uncomfortable?"

 

Mulder nodded vigorously, longing to have the pressure on his aching jaw relaxed. Skinner ran his finger around the sides of the gag, checking it carefully.

 

"It isn't biting, so I'm going to keep you in it, uncomfortable or not." Skinner smiled at Mulder's obvious disappointment at receiving this news. "It's a punishment, Fox, for your smart mouth - a sore jaw might help you remember to keep it closed in future. Learn from this, and then hopefully I won't have to gag you too often. You know, Fox…" He tipped Mulder's chin and gazed into his eyes, "I think that sensory deprivation might be a good way of dealing with you. You clearly have some trust issues, and you find it hard to let go. I need you to trust me implicitly, to give yourself up to my every command, obedient to my every whim. Come with me."

 

He marched Mulder over to the hoist, buckled him into the harness, and then blindfolded him. Mulder took a deep breath around the gag.

 

"I'm not going to do anything to hurt you - I won't let you come but this will be entirely pleasurable. I want you to relax, and trust me, without being able to see what I'm doing," Skinner said. "If you're in real distress, shake your head, but I expect it to be genuine distress or there'll be trouble. Understood?"

 

Mulder nodded, and a few seconds later he gave a gasp as his feet disappeared from under him, and he was suspended in mid-air.

 

Mulder felt strangely dislocated from the world, wrapped up in black silence, his body hanging in space. He relaxed into his bonds. Skinner hadn't put him in tight bondage at any point during his slavery so far, and Mulder had never yearned for it before, but for the first time, he felt as if he'd enjoy it, and wanted to try it. Maybe he would ask his Master for that, next time he was offered a reward.

 

He lay in mid-air for a long time, suspended in nothingness, every part of his body supported by the harness. He couldn't see Skinner, and the big man was being very quiet. Mulder strained his ears to hear where his Master was, but after several long minutes he relaxed his vigilance, and just gave himself up to the sensation. Therefore, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a light touch on his abdomen.

 

"Easy," Skinner's voice soothed. "I'm going to play this particular game with you every day until Friday. "There's only one rule - you mustn't move. Not a muscle. It doesn't matter what I do to you, you must stay completely still. It's important - I have the paddle here," he touched it against Mulder's thigh, "if you move, you'll get a lick from it."

 

Mulder relaxed again, determined to obey. He felt what must have been Skinner's fingertips, trailing over his chest, and down to his cock, which leapt in response.

 

"Well, I'll forgive you for that, as it's clear you don't have any control over this part of your anatomy," Skinner said with a wry chuckle.

 

His fingers moved on, just stroking gently, touching every part of Mulder's body - his hair, his neck, his throat, even his sore nipples. Mulder didn't move - he didn't even flinch. He just allowed it all to happen. This was nice, this gentle stroking. "I'm doing this for a reason. By Friday, I need you to be able to keep absolutely still. I'm not telling you why," Skinner whispered, his fingernails continuing that light, scratching caress.

 

Mulder barely heard him - his whole body was sinking into a state of bliss. He was floating away, on a haze of…Mulder jerked into the air as Skinner's fingers tickled under his armpit, and he was immediately rewarded by a slap from the paddle on his butt. He gave a muffled "oomph", and squirmed in his bonds.

 

"Relax…breathe through your nose," Skinner advised.

 

His fingernails continued gently scraping at Mulder's armpits, and it was all Mulder could do not to wriggle. He started to break out into a sweat, wishing Skinner would touch him anywhere but there.

 

"You have to get used to this," Skinner told him, "relax."

 

He delivered another firm swat to Mulder's butt as Mulder twisted away from the tickling fingers. Mulder couldn't think of one single reason why it was important he had to get used to such agony, except possibly to satisfy his Master's more sadistic impulses, and he felt somewhat aggrieved as the paddle kept thwacking against his ass. I'm trying, dammit! Finally, Skinner turned his attention to Mulder's balls, teasing them unmercifully, and tugging on his pubic hair. Mulder began to relax again - he wasn't so ticklish here, and soon he was transported away on that haze of serenity again.

 

There was a pause, and he felt Skinner turn him over, onto his front, and refasten him. He hung there, in the darkness, and silence, his jaw aching in earnest around the ball gag. Skinner's fingertips scraped over his legs, up and down, down and up, and then played around his butt for a while, just lightly caressing him. He didn't push his fingers inside Mulder's ass, just played with the hair on his butt, tweaking it. Mulder moaned, and moved, wanting his Master's fingers inside him, and was immediately rewarded by a hard smack from the paddle. He gave in, and surrendered to the stroking. It was delicious - soothing without being overtly erotic. Just what he needed to relax him after his tense day.

 

Mulder enjoyed this so much that at some point he tuned out completely. The silence, the way the gag denied him a voice, focusing him inwards, the darkness…it all contributed to his blissful mood. Mulder gave himself up to the moment, and the next thing he knew Skinner was laughing as he took the blindfold off his slave.

 

"I think someone fell asleep," Skinner grinned, kissing his slave fondly. "What's the matter, pup - didn't I send you to bed early enough last night?" He lowered Mulder to the ground, and untied him, before instructing him to kneel.

 

"How's your jaw holding up?"

 

Skinner fondled the side of Mulder's face, checking the straps again. Mulder looked up at him eagerly. His jaw muscles ached so much, he was sure he couldn't stand having the ball gag in his mouth for one more second.

 

"Have you learned your lesson?" Skinner asked. Mulder nodded enthusiastically. "So, when I take this out, you'll be respectful, courteous, and obedient?" Skinner asked. Mulder nodded again. "I'm glad to hear it. However…" Mulder's heart sank. "Before I remove it, I just want to warn you that there are worse punishments than this for a smart mouth." He opened the cupboard. "The ball gag you're wearing is pretty small. I save this one for when I'm really pissed." He pulled out the most enormous ball gag Mulder had ever laid eyes on. He blinked, horror registering in his eyes. He already felt as if he had a giant bomb in his mouth - he had no wish to experience its big brother. "I can see that you're duly impressed," Skinner chuckled. "And let's not forget, that good, old-fashioned favorite - mouth washing. There's some hard soap in the bathroom - I find that more effective than the liquid variety. There's nothing like a good scraping around the teeth to really drum the message home. I always choose a quick foaming variety - guaranteed to clean the most filthy of mouths!" He laughed at Mulder's look of complete outrage, and undid his slave's gag, easing it out of his slave's mouth. Mulder moved his jaw cautiously, relieving the ache.

 

"Thank you, Master," he leaned forward and kissed Skinner's feet devotedly. "And I'm sorry for swearing at you, Master. Thank you for taking the time and trouble to correct me."

 

"You're welcome, pup. You see, you really do have the prettiest manners when you try." Skinner smiled fondly. "Now, you can spot me while I work out, and do a small work out yourself, then we can eat. After that - I have some new lessons I want you to practice, and then it's bed for you, I think."

 

Mulder spent the next few hours wondering what the 'new lessons' would be. After they'd eaten, Skinner handed him a packet of balloons, some shaving cream, and a cutthroat razor. Mulder looked at them in surprise, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with them.

 

"Blow up a balloon, cover it in shaving foam, and then give it a nice, clean, shave," Skinner instructed him.

 

"Can I ask why, Master?" Mulder ventured, thinking the whole thing sounded like a giant waste of time.

 

"No, but I'll tell you anyway. I like to have a good, clean shave once a week - slow and thorough. It will be your job to perform that task, but I'm not letting you anywhere near my throat with a razor until I'm sure you can do it without cutting me."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder gulped, suddenly seeing the sense in the preparation, even though he knew he was going to feel stupid shaving a balloon.

 

He set to work, while Skinner sat down on the couch, leafing through the sports section of the paper. Mulder exploded 7 balloons in all, showering himself in shaving foam on each occasion.

 

"I can see this is going to take a lot of practice," Skinner observed, surveying the mess of foam and balloon remnants and a rather bedraggled slave an hour or so later. "An hour a day until Sunday, Fox. Don't forget - if I do, then remind me. My face isn't going anywhere near your razor until you can shave 3 balloons in front of me without killing them."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder sighed, wondering why the very idea of shaving his Master sent a delicious warmth through his body.

 

"Sundays are when I expect a full service," Skinner tickled him under the chin. "You'll wait on me in the bath, dry me, shave me, give me a massage…talking of which, did you call Clark?"

 

"No, Master. I forgot." Mulder admitted.

 

"Go and do it now - and wash yourself down. Then come back here, and keep that smart mouth of yours occupied putting condoms on this dildo." He placed the object on the table. "That's another skill I want you to have in your repertoire, slave. Talking of skills," he looked at Mulder thoughtfully, "before you go to bed you can serve me with your mouth - you can demonstrate what you've learned with the dildo, and I want to help you brush up on your oral techniques."

 

Mulder stared at his Master resentfully for a while, but turned on his heel and scurried to the 'phone when Skinner took a threatening step towards him. First he doesn't like the way I massage, then my hair's too long, now he doesn't like the way I give head. Fuck, what the hell does the miserable bastard like? He aimed a kick at the passing Wanda with his bare foot, only to succeed on stubbing his toe on the wall, which didn't help his mood. He made the call, then returned to address himself to the task of putting condoms on the dildo using only his mouth. This was almost as stupid as the balloon shaving, and Mulder grew tired of it. His jaw ached, and the whole exercise was ridiculous. What possible difference was there to Skinner whether he put his own condom on, or made Mulder twist himself into contortions doing it using his mouth?

 

"Problems, pup?" Skinner asked from the couch, hearing his loud and dramatic sigh.

 

"I can't do this." Mulder pouted. "And it's ridiculous. Look, I have…"

 

"A degree from Oxford, yes, I know." Skinner nodded. "You're also a talented profiler, an excellent, if ill-disciplined agent, and my slave. The last part of that description is the only one I'm interested in right now, so get cracking." He turned his attention tersely back to his paper. Mulder sat there for a moment, staring at his Master resentfully, and then turned back to his task with a sigh. It didn't help that his jaw still ached from the ball gag incident earlier.

 

After another half an hour, Skinner called him over, and for a demonstration of what he'd been practicing. Mulder knelt in front of his Master, while Skinner opened his jeans, and stroked himself into an erection.

 

"Hands behind your back, pup. Serve me with your mouth."

 

Skinner placed the condom in Mulder's mouth, and the younger man leaned forward, and carefully tried to ease it into place. He failed.

 

"One more try. If you don't get this right, then you can spend another hour practicing before bed, pup." Skinner pulled on Mulder's ear to punctuate this statement, and his slave nodded, glumly. He put all his effort into the next one, and managed to get it almost into place before it slid off with a sloppy, plopping sound. "Not bad, but you clearly still need practice. You can take the dildo and condoms to your bedroom. I won't check up on you, but if you still can't manage this the next time I ask you, then there'll be punishment," Skinner told him.

 

"It's not fucking easy!" Mulder protested, his hackles rising. Skinner grabbed his hair, and thrust his hard cock into Mulder's mouth, holding him still.

 

"Right - I've just about had enough of your opinions today. I think this might be a good way of keeping you quiet."

 

Skinner held Mulder's head, and thrust back and forth into his slave's mouth. Mulder opened his eyes wide - he was used to being the one giving oral sex, not having his mouth so comprehensively fucked in this way. He struggled to keep his throat open, and his gag reflex under control, as Skinner pushed back and forth in his mouth.

 

"Now, you give head pretty well, slave-boy, but you can still learn a thing or two," Skinner told him brusquely between thrusts. "In the next few days I want you to try varying your technique, and experimenting with a few new things. In other words - surprise me. It's not enough to just deliver the same thing each day. I want variety. I want to be the proud owner of the slave that gives the best head in this city, hell, in this whole damn country. Think you're up to that?" He eased himself out a little way, and Mulder nodded, his cock hardening. He really loved it when Skinner got forceful with him - the feeling of being totally dominated by someone bigger, stronger, and more powerful than himself just did it for him, and the mouth-fuck was a giant turn on. He lowered his eyes, and sucked Skinner's hard cock enthusiastically, until the big man came down his throat.

 

"Good." Skinner fondled Mulder's hair affectionately. "Now, you've been tired and cranky all day. Go to bed, slave, and wake up in a more willing mood tomorrow."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder knelt there for a moment.

 

"Is there something else?" Skinner demanded.

 

"Could…Master kiss me?" He asked, hesitantly. He was dreading what dreams the night would bring, and had no wish to hurry off to bed. Skinner looked at him coolly.

 

"Kisses have to be earned. Have you earned one tonight, pup?" he asked.

 

Mulder sighed, and looked down. "No, Master," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder tomorrow."

 

He was surprised when Skinner tipped up his chin, and planted a sweet, tender kiss on his lips. He moaned, opening his mouth for more, but a tongue wasn't forthcoming. "You can have that on account," Skinner murmured, squeezing his slave's naked buttock. "Before you go, slave." He held up the chastity belt. Mulder sighed.

 

Mulder tried to avoid sleep for as long as possible. He went over the day's events, and was just about to drop off, when a chilling thought occurred to him. Why was Skinner insisting that he got so good at giving oral sex? Was it because he wanted to show off his skills at the party on Friday? Mulder shuddered. He had been forced to give oral sex to strangers before, with other tops, as an extreme demonstration of his submission but somehow, this time, it felt different. It would be the ultimate humiliation, and usually he got off on that, but…but…he heard a small voice deep inside: he didn't want to know that Skinner felt so little jealousy, that he could just stand by and watch Mulder serve another top. He wanted Skinner to become enraged at the thought of anyone else enjoying his services - he wanted a degree of exclusivity that he knew he was in no position to ask for. Mulder tossed and turned, worrying about it for an hour or so. He didn't know that was what Skinner intended, but it was a reasonable assumption to make, wasn't it?

 

Skinner's bedroom was empty when Mulder pushed the door open the following morning. He glanced around, but the only occupant in the bed was the green eyed Wanda. He checked in the bathroom but there was no sign of his Master. Feeling anxious, he began checking the whole apartment, room by room, then the upstairs one. He was starting to feel worried now. Skinner hadn't told him he'd be going anywhere this morning…Mulder began to run, looking under beds, and in closets, chasing around in circles like a dog pursuing its own tail. Outside, it got darker and darker, until he couldn't see anything. "Master!" He yelled. "Skinner! Where are you?" Finally, he gave up, and just sat, alone in the dark, by his Master's bed, clutching one of his lost Master's crisply ironed shirts to his chest, and drinking in the scent of him, sobbing his heart out…

 

Mulder woke up, still shaking, exhausted by his dream. He sat in bed for a long time, but he knew he couldn't stay there. The need to check that Skinner hadn't really disappeared was overwhelming, and he grabbed his pillow and blanket as he had the previous night, then picked up his gun just in case his Master needed protecting, and slipped silently down the stairs.

 

Wanda didn't even look at him as he tiptoed into the room. Mulder's heart skipped a beat - Skinner was there, spreadeagled as usual. He couldn't resist tiptoeing closer, and kneeling for a moment beside his Master, in silent worship. Then he leaned forward and laid the merest whisper of a kiss on Skinner's thumb, before going to lie down on the floor at the foot of his Master's bed. As he had the previous night, he fell asleep immediately, the tension leaving his face as soon as his head hit the pillow. Here he was not only safe; he could be of service. If anyone came to hurt his Master, he could protect him, with his gun, and every last drop of blood in his body.

 

A bright light shone into Mulder's dreams a few hours later.

 

"Fuck - get away, get away from the window!" he yelled, disorientated. He sat up, reaching for the gun under his pillow, only to find his wrist grasped firmly, and twisted behind his back.

 

"Slowly…it's only me," Skinner said, disarming him. Mulder blinked, and then let out a groan. The clock beside Skinner's bed read 6:38. "Now, perhaps you'd like to tell me what you're doing here?" Skinner asked, placing the gun out of his reach, and taking hold of Mulder's other wrist, keeping both Mulder's arms firmly at his side. Mulder swallowed, and looked up into his Master's dark eyes.

 

"I couldn't sleep, Master," he admitted.

 

"Did you sleep last night?" Skinner asked.

 

"No, Master," Mulder began to tremble.

 

"Did you lie to me about that?" Skinner demanded.

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder's trembling got worse. Skinner pulled the quilt off his bed, and sat down on the floor behind his slave, wrapping them both in it. He pulled Mulder back so that his shoulders were resting against his Master's chest.

 

"So you thought you'd come down here and sleep in my room without permission?" Skinner continued.

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder said miserably.

 

"With a gun?"

 

Mulder knew without looking that Skinner had that raised eyebrow expression. "Yes," he replied, not sure just how bad this was going to get, but feeling pretty certain that he was up to his neck in shit.

 

"Okay, I'm going to ask this, although I'm sure I'll regret it - the gun, Fox. Why?"

 

"Oh, you know, in case you found me, and got so angry I had to defend myself," he wisecracked. This was a bad move. Skinner's body stiffened.

 

"All right. It's early, and I was on my way to the bathroom when I tripped over you, so, as you're clearly not in any mood to be co-operative, I think I'll continue just as I would have done." Skinner got up, and Mulder immediately regretted the loss of his Master's warm body, and his comfortable quilt, which was whisked away and replaced on the bed. "I told you I want your honesty, Fox," Skinner told him firmly.

 

"Are you going to punish me?" Mulder couldn't keep the quaver out of his voice.

 

"Yes, I am - in a way that will cause me the least inconvenience. I'm going back to bed, slave. I want you to use the next couple of hours to think very carefully about this honesty issue. You can do that from this position."

 

He moved quickly, dragging Mulder to his feet, and over to face the wall. "That's nearly two hours corner time you've bought yourself, slave. I don't want to hear a peep out of you in that time. You can go downstairs at 8:45 and get me my coffee. When you come back, I'm going to want a full explanation. Think very carefully about it," Skinner hissed into his ear.

 

Mulder bit on his lip. He didn't dare defy his Master, but two hours! Standing, facing the wall, while his Master slept in his nice, warm, comfy bed. Mulder heard Skinner return from the bathroom, and walk towards the bed. He half turned his head.

 

"Master, I'm…" he began.

 

Skinner froze him with a look. "Face back towards the wall. You had your chance, Fox. Now you can think about how you blew it, and how you're going to make up for that in the morning." He picked up the quilt, and slipped under it. "Fox - trust isn't just about the things I do to your body in the Playroom. It's about your heart and mind too. Give me those and the rest will follow," he said softly, then he turned out the light, and left Mulder standing there.

 

It was a long two hours, and cold too. Mulder didn't dare move in case Skinner was still awake, so he stood, as silently as he could, resting his forehead on the wall, churning things over in his mind.

 

He felt as if there were two of him. There was Mulder, the FBI agent, who was preoccupied by his quest, who was bright and intelligent, and haunted by nightmares, and there was Fox, who wanted nothing more than to give it all up, and kneel at his Master's feet. So far, he had gone as willingly as he was able down this path. He knew he wanted it - it had been his choice to sign himself into slavery. Skinner was asking him for more than he could give though. He was looking beyond Fox, to Mulder, and he wanted to have them both. He wanted to see into the darkest recesses of Mulder's psyche, at what made him tick, and to know even his darkest nightmares. Mulder wasn't sure that he could give him that. He took a deep breath. This was just the beginning. Next week, when they returned to work, he could see the difficulties would start in earnest. No wonder Skinner was putting him through this intensive training program. Mulder closed his eyes, and wondered what the hell he was going to tell his Master in the morning.

 

Mulder slipped out, as he had been ordered, at 8:45, and grabbed the paper. He was almost distracted from his problems as he read that the Red Sox were playing the Yankees for the American League title that evening. He wondered if there was any chance in hell that Skinner would let him watch it.

 

Skinner was already sitting up in bed when Mulder returned.

 

"Master is awake," he murmured, putting the coffee down on the night-stand.

 

"Master had an interrupted night," Skinner scowled.

 

"Sorry, Master." Mulder knelt down, wretched, beside the bed. "I think…Master might want to give up on me," he said, surprising himself. "I think…maybe I'm not trainable, Master."

 

He was surprised when Skinner broke into a long, deep laugh. Mulder looked up, wide-eyed.

 

"I'm sure you'd like to believe that, Fox. It'd save you from having to reveal anything about yourself. You could just duck out of this, as you've done before whenever anyone has gotten too close. Well, tough luck, sweetheart. This is it. There's no escaping this one. You're mine, and that's the way it's going to stay, however hard it damn well gets for you. Now get up on this bed, and into the Confessional position."

 

He patted the empty space on the bed beside him. Mulder hesitated, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, combined with a gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

 

"Do I have to come and get you?" Skinner asked dangerously. "If I do, your butt will pay for it."

 

Mulder was galvanized into immediate action. His butt had been on the receiving end of enough spankings in the past few days. He knelt beside his Master, tucked his whole body neatly into position, and placed his nose on the quilt, eyes closed. He was surprised when Skinner's hand came down gently on his exposed back, stroking him.

 

"All right, little one. Tell me why you were sleeping on my floor last night," Skinner asked softly.

 

"I couldn't sleep, Master. I have…nightmares. It isn't a recent thing," Mulder admitted.

 

"But you didn't feel the need to tell me before?" Skinner asked.

 

"I…I didn't think it was relevant, Master," Mulder whispered.

 

"Something that affects my slave's well-being, and you didn't think it was relevant," Skinner echoed, in a tone of disbelief. "Well, in future, slave, let me decide what's relevant and what isn't."

 

"Yes, Master."

 

Skinner's hand continued it's slow caress up and down Mulder's spine. "Keep going," he ordered. "What do you normally do when you have these nightmares?"

 

"I watch TV, Master," Mulder said, "and sometimes I go out for a run."

 

"I see. Well, you can't run without my permission, but you have a television in your room. Did you try that?" Skinner asked, his fingers straying into Mulder's hair, stroking him softly, like a cat.

 

"No, Master," Mulder said.

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because it doesn't work. I just lie awake all night, watching. Sometimes it takes ages to fall asleep again. Sometimes…I just don't."

 

"But you didn't even try - why?

 

"I don't know," Mulder said the lie before he was even aware of it. He did know. He knew he couldn't have just stayed in his room watching TV when his nightmares had been about Skinner. The urge to check that his Master was safe had been too strong for him to resist.

 

"What were your nightmares about, little one?" Skinner asked gently.

 

Mulder started to rock back and forth. He hated being perceived as weak, or emotionally needy. Even in his submission he tried to keep his strength, the strength that had kept him going for so long through innumerable ordeals. He didn't need his tops - emotionally any way. He just needed what they could give him. If he let them get close it would end up like…Phoebe.

 

"My nightmares are usually about my sister, Master, or Scully. About them being abducted. About…not being able to help them." Mulder told the half-truth, curling himself up even tighter in the semi-fetal position and rocking with a vengeance now. And about you, about losing you, Master…

 

"Usually?" Skinner picked up on the detail. "Was that what they were about last night?"

 

"Very similar, Master, yes," Mulder whispered. There was a long silence during which he hoped Skinner wouldn't delve any further or he knew he would tell the other man an outright lie.

 

"All right. Come here." Skinner held out his arms, and Mulder looked up in relief, and crawled into them eagerly. He found himself settling against his Master's chest, clinging on for dear life. There was something so reassuring about the scent, and strength of his Master, about his muscular arms, and powerful body. It's just a physical thing, not any big emotional deal, he told himself, as he closed his eyes and allowed his Master to kiss his forehead.

 

"Is there anything else?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder didn't want to lie, but somehow, the truth was beyond him. "No, Master," he whispered.

 

"All right." Skinner pushed him back so that he could look into his eyes. "I won't have my slave distressed, and tired during the day. It'll interfere with your training, and your ability to serve me, apart from anything else, but I also take the terms of my contract very seriously. Quote me clause 2 of the Master Contract, slave."

 

Mulder thought about it for a moment, then opened his mouth.

 

"I will provide the physical and emotional necessities of life for my slave, and he will know my love as I choose for him to know it," he gabbled.

 

"I think sleep counts as a physical necessity," Skinner commented. "Now, as far as I'm concerned, being allowed to sleep on my floor, is just one step down from allowing my slave to sleep in my bed. In other words - it's something that I would usually make you earn. However, I have an idea, pup, based on our discussion about the kennel yesterday."

 

He got up, and pulled on his robe, clicking his fingers for Mulder to kneel in the submissive position.

 

"Stay," he ordered. Mulder did as he was told, and Skinner returned a few minutes later, bearing a long length of chain. He fastened one end of it to one of the legs at the foot of the bed, then beckoned his slave over. "In future, if you have a nightmare, and feel that you need to sleep in my room, you can. However - if you do, you must sleep chained to the foot of the bed, in bondage. Please try to ensure you don't wake me as well. Just clip this," he held up the end of the chain, "to your collar. It's a locking mechanism - I'll be the only one with a key to it. So, you should think very hard about whether to come down here. If you do, you'll be chained for the rest of the night, unable to use the bathroom, or to move around much."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, feeling relieved. He didn't mind about being chained - in fact, his cock told him that he rather liked the idea. It was just so good to know that he could spend the night here without worrying about the consequences.

 

"And if I find you here in the morning, I'll expect a full account of what brought you here," Skinner warned. Mulder crossed his fingers behind his back, and nodded.

 

"All right - I'll do a quick inspection and then we should get moving. I want you to do a thorough work out in the gym this morning." Skinner took off his robe, and headed for the shower.

 

"Doesn't Master want…" Mulder gestured to Skinner's cock.

 

"No - I'm going to be using you in the shower. Get a move on." Skinner slapped Mulder's butt and his slave scrambled quickly for the door.

 

Skinner inspected his slave briefly, and removed his chastity belt, before stepping into the shower. He allowed his slave to soap him thoroughly, and then he told him to get into the Grace position. Mulder obeyed, placing his hands flat against the wall. Skinner soaped his fingers and finger-fucked his slave for several minutes, then withdrew. Mulder watched out of the corner of his eye, as Skinner unhooked the long back scrubbing brush from the shower rail.

 

"Oh shit," he murmured.

 

"I told you, slave, morning discipline is a given. Accept." Skinner warned.

 

"Yes, Master," he gasped, putting his head back, the water flowing down his face. The brush packed an almighty whack as it slapped against his buttocks. Wet skin always hurt more than dry, and the brush was as big and hard as any paddle, although Skinner was swinging it lightly on his already tenderized flesh.

 

"What are you?" Skinner asked.

 

"Your slave, Master," Mulder replied automatically, knowing the litany by heart now.

 

"And your status?"

 

"I have none, Master, I exist to serve you," Mulder panted, as the brush made painful contact with his upturned butt several times.

 

"Who does your body belong to?" Skinner demanded.

 

"OW! You, you, Master," Mulder whimpered.

 

"And how can I use you?" Skinner asked.

 

"Anyway you like. Unnnnhh! Ow!"

 

"That's just what I intend to do."

 

Skinner threw the brush down, and Mulder heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped. He gasped out loud as his Master grabbed his sore buttocks, and entered him swiftly, and smoothly. "Push your butt out, slave. More," Skinner squeezed Mulder's red ass, making his slave's internal muscles contract around his hard cock, milking him. Mulder struggled to push his butt out, gasping as Skinner's cock slid home. His Master's hands slipped around, and lightly touched his slave's sore nipples, making Mulder yelp. His cock, already hard, went as straight as a ramrod.

 

"Master…please…" he whimpered, as Skinner continued that gossamer light touch on his nipples.

 

"Quiet, slave. Accept me." Skinner grabbed Mulder's hips and thrust into him with more urgency. It took all Mulder's strength to keep in position as Skinner pounded into him, over and over again, his wet hands fondling Mulder's entire body, sometimes stroking, sometimes pinching, sometimes making the lightest contact with his nipples, or squeezing his tender ass, before finally reaching climax. He stood, covering his slave's body with his own for several minutes, while their breathing returned to normal, and then he withdrew, and disposed of the condom. He returned to the shower, and turned his slave around.

 

"Good boy." He kissed Mulder firmly on the lips, plundering his slave's mouth with his tongue, and Mulder opened up, and went weak at the knees, holding onto this Master's shoulders for dear life.

 

"Please…" he found himself rubbing up against Skinner's groin, trying to achieve the climax that was always just out of reach.

 

"Naughty." Skinner stepped out of the shower, flicking the switch to cold as he left. "You know the drill. You can stay there until that," Skinner pointed at Mulder's erection, "has gone down."

 

Skinner took Mulder through the rest of the day at such breakneck speed that his slave barely had time to remember his broken night. He was given a thorough work out in the gym, whisked up the Playroom for an hour's light stroking in the harness, then ordered to spend another hour shaving balloons. After that, it was time to wash the brunch dishes. Mulder approached the full sink and noticed Wanda nosing around under the faucet.

 

"Stupid cat," he murmured. "You have a bowl of water, Madam. On the floor, which, incidentally, is where you belong." Wanda didn't take any notice of him, she just continued licking moisture from the faucet. Mulder glanced over his shoulder, but Skinner was in the other room. With a grin of evil delight, Mulder reached out, and snapped the faucet on quickly. Wanda jumped, as the deluge consumed her, and scurried away, her tail twitching angrily and one damp ear flicking back and forth. It was at that moment that Skinner came into the kitchen.

 

"Not even started yet?" Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Hurry up, Fox. I want you to join me on the couch." He picked Wanda up absently, and kissed her, then paused. "Fox - Wanda has a wet ear," he commented.

 

"Does she, Master?" Mulder busied himself clearing up, plunging his hands in the soapy water.

 

"Do you know anything about that?" Skinner asked ominously.

 

"No, Master," Mulder gave a seraphic smile, his hazel eyes meeting Wanda's. "Maybe she dunked it in her water bowl by mistake, Master," Mulder commented neutrally.

 

Skinner's eyes narrowed and he regarded his slave thoughtfully. "Maybe she did," he murmured, taking Wanda with him back to the other room. "Come on, little darling," he crooned as he went. "Let me take you away from the nasty slave."

 

Mulder made a face. It was ridiculous, a grown man talking to a stupid cat like that, although not, he pondered, any more ridiculous than a grown man doing the washing up stark naked, save only for a cock ring, 2 nipple rings, a gold collar, and a wedding ring.

 

He joined Skinner on the couch as requested after doing the dishes. Skinner was leaning back, looking through the TV Guide, and he beckoned Mulder to sit between his open knees, then he pulled his slave back against his chest. Mulder relaxed into the embrace with a sigh. This was so nice.

 

"You had an interrupted night, last night, pup," Skinner mused, gently stroking Mulder's hair. "Now, I want you to take a nap."

 

Mulder closed his eyes obediently, listening as Skinner rustled through the TV Guide again. A

thought occurred to him, as he remembered the game. Normally, nothing on this earth would have stopped him watching a playoff game between the Red Sox and the Yankees for the American League title. Skinner seemed to be in a very mellow mood this afternoon. He wondered if there was any way he could wheedle his Master into allowing him to watch the game. Still musing, he turned on his side, and fell into a deep slumber.

 

He was awakened a couple of hours later, by an insistent stroking inside his anus. He blinked, and glanced up. Skinner was finger fucking him awake.

 

"You can't sleep all day, pup," Skinner smiled. "We do have some more chores to do. However, I must say, this is nice."

 

His fingers picked up speed, and Mulder started to writhe, and moan, as they found his prostate. His cock jerked awake with a vengeance.

 

"You know, I think it's your lucky day," Skinner murmured into Mulder's ear. "I think I'm going to use you again." He dug into his pocket for a condom, then removed his finger, and pressed his hard cock against Mulder's buttocks, rubbing it between them. "One of the good things about having you in my bed, when the day comes, is that I'll have you to hand to use if I wake up in the night. I'll enjoy using you while you sleep."

 

"I'm sure I'll soon wake up if you do that, Master," Mulder moaned, trying to impale himself on his Master's cock. He could hardly believe himself. Up until last week he had avoided anal sex, but now he was rubbing himself on Skinner's cock like a cat on heat. He still found Skinner's thick cock hard to take, but the sensation of it filling him, left him satisfied in a way he could never have imagined. He opened up eagerly, as Skinner pushed his hard length into him, and rocked his hips against his slave's body, getting into an insistent rhythm, never quite thrusting to the hilt, just dipping in and out. It was a new angle for Mulder, with both of them lying on their sides on the couch, and he had to will himself to relax for the first few strokes, which he always found the most painful. Once Skinner was fully inside him, the big man stopped moving, and held his slave close. Mulder closed his eyes. Shit, this felt so good. His back against Skinner's chest, being held tight, his Master's cock fully inside him, claiming him. They were still for a moment that seemed to last forever, and then Skinner started a slow, tantalizing movement, back and forth, every thrust seeming to stimulate Mulder's prostate, until Mulder felt sure he'd come just from that dizzying pressure. Skinner seemed to sense that he was on the edge, and pinched the tip of his cock firmly. "You don't come. Not yet. Not until Friday, and then only if you're good. I've been too soft on you so far, slave." Skinner murmured in his ear.

 

"Master feels pretty hard right now," Mulder quipped.

 

Skinner tightened the grip of his arm across the front of Mulder's chest and thrust a few more times before coming. Once more, he stayed inside his slave for several minutes, as his penis softened inside Mulder's body.

 

"I want you to remember what this feels like, to think about me inside you, as often as possible," Skinner whispered in his ear. "I read somewhere, about someone who had a plaster cast made of his cock. I'd like to do something similar - have the shape and size of my hard cock fashioned into a butt plug, and make you wear it all the time, so that I'm claiming you, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, like the slave you are. The only time I'd take it out would be to use you, like I just did, so there would never be a time when you couldn't feel me inside you. How does that sound, slave?" his voice was low, and sexy, and Mulder groaned, his

cock aching with need.

 

"Master is just tormenting me now," he whispered.

 

"That's right. I like tormenting you, little one. It gives me pleasure," Skinner laughed. "How are you feeling after your nap?"

 

"Fine, Master." Mulder snuggled against his Master's body.

 

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Skinner's hands gently stroked his body.

 

Mulder sighed happily. "No, Master," he whispered.

 

They lay there for a long time. Mulder felt himself drifting off into a dreamy haze. He glanced at the TV Guide on the floor, and remembered his plan. He was sure Skinner wouldn't let him watch the game if he asked him, so he decided on a different tack.

 

"Master?"

 

"Hmm?" Skinner hugged him close, and kissed the back of his neck, making Mulder's hair stand on end.

 

"You know what I was saying about not sleeping?"

 

"Yes," Skinner nibbled at his earlobe.

 

"Well, I usually find that watching baseball before I go to bed helps me drop off. I don't know why," Mulder said, taking his life into his hands.

 

"Baseball?" Skinner licked behind his ears. Mulder shivered, willing his erection to go away.

 

"Yes, Master. It works every time. I'll probably sleep all night if I watched the game this evening," he said. It sounded unbelievable, even to his own ears, but Skinner seemed to be relaxed, and zoned out, so it was worth a try. It might work. His Master sounded as if he could be in an indulgent mood right now, on his post-sex high. "Could we have the game on tonight, Master?" he asked.

 

"Why not?" Skinner nipped Mulder's earlobe again. "Yes, we'll have the game on tonight, slave. I'll enjoy that. Very much."

 

Mulder grinned silently to himself. Hah! At last he had found a chink in his Master's armor. Appealing to Skinner's good nature, taking advantage of his concern over Mulder's nightmares, and asking straight after some hot sex. Those were the keys. Mulder snuggled down in his Master's arms, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.

 

Skinner seemed to be looking forward to the evening as well. He put Mulder through his paces once more on the end of the leash, then they had dinner, after which, Skinner got out some beers, and a bag of popcorn and handed them to his slave.

 

"You can't watch a game without these vital accessories," he grinned. Mulder grinned back, sensing the training being relaxed. Maybe tonight, for just a couple of hours, they could be regular guys. They could immerse themselves in the game, and forget about the training for a bit. Maybe, if he was lucky, Mulder could lie in his Master's arms again while they watched TV, just as he had that afternoon. Mulder took the beers into the living room, and put them on the table, then sat down expectantly, turning on the TV to catch the intro. Skinner came in and sat down beside him.

 

"On the floor, pup," he gestured. Mulder pouted, reluctant to relinquish his fantasy of lying in Skinner's arms, but Skinner clicked his fingers and he didn't dare disobey. "Okay, I think we can use this as a training opportunity." Skinner smiled down at his slave. "For tonight, Fox, I'd like you to be my footstool."

 

"What?" Mulder opened his mouth wide in wordless shock.

 

"You heard me, pup. On your hands and knees. No - facing that way." Skinner pointed in the opposite direction to where the TV was located. Mulder just knelt there, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

 

"But - Master said I could watch the game!" he protested at last.

 

"No, Master said we'd have the game on, and we will - but you won't be watching it." Skinner smiled at him. "Instead you'll be on your hands and knees with my legs on your back. I think I'll balance the remotes on you as well. Get used to it, slave. I'm fond of human furniture - and it's a hard skill to learn. You have to be completely still for a start. I won't put any drinks on you tonight, but I will at some point, and I don't expect them to spill. I think it's time that you found a quiet center to your soul, boy. Blank out the rest of the world, and just concentrate on being a footstool."

 

Mulder choked in disbelief, but Skinner turned him around, placed his unwilling limbs into position, and then rested his long legs on Mulder's back.

 

"Master, please," he whimpered, hearing the game start on the television behind him. He was rewarded by a swat on the butt from a rolled up copy of the TV Guide.

 

"Quiet, boy." Skinner said, leaning back in the couch. He opened a beer, and dug his hand into the popcorn.

 

Mulder flushed to the roots of his hair, feeling utterly humiliated. Apart from anything else, it was uncomfortable, this kneeling in position. He tried to remain still, but after barely ten minutes, he felt sure he'd collapse, and shifted his weight - only to receive another hearty slap. From then on, every wriggle was met by a swat from the TV Guide. Behind him, he could tell he was missing one of the most exciting games in living memory.

 

"This has been a game for the history books so far! I've never even seen a play like that before," Tim McCarver, the Yankee announcer babbled. Skinner leaned forward, excited, removed his legs from Mulder's back, and plunked his remote and the popcorn down on him instead.

 

"Master!" Mulder protested, flinching from the anticipated blow from the TV Guide. He wasn't disappointed as it swatted down on his upturned butt.

 

"And now here's the play at the plate!" Mulder heard from the television behind him. "This run could be it! He's out! No! The ball is dropped! He's safe! He's safe at home!"

 

Oh god, this was excruciating. Mulder craned his neck to get just one glimpse of the play, and found the back of his head swatted with the rolled up magazine. Fuck! He couldn't bear this!

 

"Master, I'm sorry. Please let me watch," he begged, doing his best to sound contrite, while thinking furious thoughts.

 

"What are you sorry for, slave?" Skinner asked.

 

"For lying to you so that you'd let me watch," Mulder admitted with a sigh. "Hell, it was worth a try, Master!"

 

"What about just asking me? Wasn't that worth a try?" Skinner demanded.

 

"I--you might not have let me, Master,"

 

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to let you now!" Skinner retorted. "Just kneel there, and give the matter of honesty some more thought. That seems to be a theme with you at the moment."

 

"Is Master going to punish me?" Mulder asked, suddenly worried.

 

"Yeah. Now shut up. I'm watching the game, boy. One more word out of you and

I'll kill the sound so you can't even listen to it."

 

Mulder opened his mouth, and then closed it again. It wasn't worth the risk. He listened in agony, as the duel between the Yankees and the Red Sox progressed. Mulder missed it all, including a final 'once in a lifetime' triple play that brought the game to an end.

 

"But not in my lifetime," Mulder groaned to himself as the announcers exulted about the end of a baseball game that would go down in the history books as one of the most exciting ever played.

 

Skinner turned the TV off, and clicked his fingers. Mulder rose up stiffly into an upright kneeling position, his back protesting the movement.

 

"Okay, we have some issues to address." Skinner got up, and took off his belt. Mulder watched him, alarmed, his butt cheeks clenching in anticipation. "I don't know what it's going to take to get this message home, Fox, but I do know I'm going to keep trying until we get there. I need your honesty." Skinner stood in front of his slave, looking down on him. "It's important. I need it in the little things - like the stunt you just pulled, because if you can't be honest about that, then there's no hope with you about the big things. And I need you to be honest about those, Fox, because if you're not, I might end up doing you some serious harm, and I don't want that any more than you do. I'm talking emotional harm as much as physical harm," Skinner warned. "By big things, I mean the truth about your nightmares, because I don't think you gave me that this morning did you?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder looked up, his eyes wide and fearful, then looked down again, and shook his head, wordlessly.

 

"I did hope that relaxing you on the couch might encourage you into confessing of your own free will, but I can see that's not going to happen, so I'm going to be take a harder line with you. You deserve to be punished for the crap you spouted to manipulate me into letting you watch the game. I hope you learned that lesson. Did you?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder bit on his lip, and watched as Skinner doubled up the belt in his hands, and pulled it taut, then slapped it against his thigh a couple of times with a resounding thwack.

 

"What did you learn?" Skinner asked. "Tell me the lesson you learned, slave."

 

"That I must always be honest with my Master?" Mulder suggested.

 

"Yes - that's about right, and to drum that lesson home, I'm going to give you one lick of my belt for every word in that sentence, with you spelling each one out as we go. Present yourself for discipline, Fox."

 

He sat down, and patted his knees. Mulder got up quickly, and bent himself over them, his stomach churning. He really didn't want a spanking right now.

 

"Okay, let's go," his Master said, laying the first lick right across the middle of Mulder's tender flesh.

 

"I," Mulder panted.

 

"Leg's further apart," Skinner widened them with his knee, then, trapped Mulder's cock between his legs, before delivering the next lick.

 

"M!" Mulder yelped. Another swat followed on quickly behind.

 

"U!" he cried.

 

Each lick came hard on the heels of the next one. If Mulder was too slow spelling the phrase, Skinner laid down an interim stroke to remind him to hurry up. He got lost somewhere around the middle of the word 'honest,' so Skinner started all over again from the beginning of that word. By the time he'd finished spelling out the phrase, Mulder's butt felt like it was on fire, and he was sobbing freely, his head buried in the couch. "Okay," Skinner paused. "Say each word for me, and I'll give you a stroke for each, then we're finished."

 

"I…ow! Must…always…fuck!…be…hon…honest…please, ow!…with…my…unnnh…Master!" Mulder repeated frantically, each lick of Skinner's belt printing a line of fire in his flesh. Finally, the onslaught stopped, and Mulder lay, panting, over his Master's knee. He felt Skinner's hand soothing his back, and got up, burying his face in his Master's shoulder.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he sobbed incoherently.

 

"I know you are. Come here." Skinner pulled his kneeling slave between his open legs, and kissed his hair until the tears finally subsided. Mulder felt sure he'd soaked his Master's shirt through to the skin. He'd never cried like this after a whipping. He'd always had his escape, damn it! He hated himself for his weakness, and tried to draw back, to retreat, but Skinner held him close, soothing him, which just made Mulder's sobs start up again. He cried for a long time, then lay limply in his Master's strong arms. Skinner pushed him back, and gently wiped the tears from his slave's cheeks, and deposited a light kiss on Mulder's swollen lips. "Now, talk to me, sweetheart," Skinner murmured, "and this time, make it the truth. Or I'll throw you back over my knee, and make you spell out that phrase again. In fact, every time you're dishonest, that's exactly what I'm going to do to you."

 

"Please…I promise I'll tell you…" Mulder babbled. "The nightmares…they were about you, Master."

 

"About me?" Skinner frowned.

 

"Yes…I…" Mulder closed his eyes and some instinct made him assume the Confessional position. "I dreamed you were abducted, just like Sam and Scully were abducted. It happens to everyone I love." He froze, annoyed with himself for uttering that word. He didn't want Skinner to know the hold he had over him. It made him vulnerable, and weak. "I saw you being taken away, and, another time, you just disappeared. I looked for you everywhere. When I came to your room, I brought the gun because I wanted to protect you. I feel so goddamn helpless in my life, Master. I couldn't stop them taking Samantha, or Scully. I suppose - I wanted to protect you if they came for you. I know it's load of fucking stupid crap, but it was 4 o clock in the morning, and it made some kind of half-assed sense then." Mulder sighed, trembling with the effort of the confession.

 

"Hush, it's all right." Mulder was surprised that Skinner hadn't burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he'd heard. "Fox, I'm not going anywhere," Skinner told him, softly. "Not now, not ever. You're stuck with me, slave." His fingers gently massaged Mulder's stiff shoulders. "We have to deal with these issues, Fox. You've had some bad crap happen in your life. You can move on - but only if you deal with it, instead of trying to hide from it. From now on, you'll tell me if you have any more nightmares, and you'll tell me what they are. Now, do you have anything else to confess?"

 

Mulder shook his head, and was surprised when his mouth opened and he started talking.

 

"I'm worried you'll make me suck the other tops at the party, Master," he admitted, shaking again. Skinner's fingers dug deep into the back of his neck.

 

"What the hell made you think I'd do that?" he asked.

 

"Because you want me to be so good at it. I thought that was why," Mulder admitted.

 

"I want you to be good at it for my own benefit, not anyone else's!" Skinner laughed. Mulder felt his shoulders relaxing in relief. "Anything else, sweetheart?"

 

"I turned the faucet on, and soaked Wanda's ear," Mulder gabbled, seemingly unable to stop the torrent of guilty secrets. Skinner roared with laughter, and Mulder looked up in surprise.

 

"Well, I'm not saying I condone that, but hell, she does hover around that faucet like she's asking for it sometimes," Skinner said between great gasps of hysteria. "Well, Fox, it seems like you've got a lot on your conscience. I think, maybe, we should institute a confessional half hour every evening." He leaned forward, and helped his slave to kneel upright, his face turning suddenly serious. "The honesty issue is important, little one," he said, fondling Mulder's cheek. Mulder nodded, a lump in his throat. "The fact that you have trouble being honest with me shows you don't trust me yet. I need that trust. I told you, Fox, I'm going to take you right down. If you don't trust me, if you fight me all the way, then it'll be a harder experience for you. Learn to trust me, and it'll be a lot less painful."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder bowed his head.

 

"And, you know, the excitement of that game has made me horny. There's something I'd like to do to you before you go to bed. Lie on the floor, hands above your head. Good."

 

Mulder lay on the carpet, watching as Skinner approached him. Without warning, the big man knelt down on top of him, his legs astride Mulder's ribs. He took hold of Mulder's arms, and pushed them back onto the floor, leaning over his slave, and looking into his eyes for a long moment. "Who do you belong to, slave?" He asked. Mulder felt a thrill pass through his body, at being held in such a submissive pose.

 

"You, Master," he said, happily.

 

"There are many ways of marking you." Skinner grinned. "Do you know that cats scent mark their territory? That's what I'm going to do to you now. Hold still."

 

He opened his jeans, and pulled out his cock, then fed it into Mulder's waiting mouth. "Suck me until I'm just about to come. No, don't move. I'm going to hold you down, slave boy."

 

Mulder obeyed his Master, sucking on his hard cock, his hands held captive over his head, the weight of Skinner's body keeping him pinned to the carpet. When Skinner was on the verge of coming, he withdrew from his slave's mouth, and spurted out on his naked body, his come splashing onto Mulder's chest, and over his neck. Mulder closed his eyes as he accepted the semen onto his body.

 

"Okay," Skinner leaned forward, and held Mulder down again. "Wait here until it dries, slave boy. Then go to bed stinking of me, with my come still marking your chest. You can't wash it off until tomorrow morning. If you wake up in the night, I want you to smell me on your body, to feel claimed by my come, and to remember that it's me marking you as my territory. Nobody," he said the word with savage intent, "gets to use you but me, boy. You're mine." He dipped his finger in his come, and painted some down the center of Mulder's chest. "Scent-marked," he whispered.

 

Mulder shivered. He felt more owned than he ever had in his life. He loved the note of jealousy he heard in his Master's voice. Skinner had even made the thought of sleeping in dried spunk sound sexy. Skinner held him there until the moisture had dried on his body, and then let him up. He fastened Mulder into his chastity belt for the night, and then pulled his slave into a deep, loving kiss.

 

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart," he murmured. Mulder gazed at him in wordless adoration, and then retreated to his bedroom in a haze of happiness.

 

He got into bed, smelling of sex, the dried semen feeling slightly itchy on his chest, but for some reason he found the smell and sensation reassuring - and he didn't have one bad dream all night.

 

---

Chapter 8: It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

The first thing Mulder's Master did on Thursday morning was to order him into the shower. The second thing he did was to tell his damp slave that he was taking him down even further, and that he would be silent for the rest of the day. Mulder stared up at him in shock. A whole day of silence? Without even the benefit of the gag to enforce it?

 

"You have to learn, sweetheart," Skinner chuckled, reading his expression. "You'll be silent for most of the day, until I give you the command that you can speak. View this as a learning opportunity, Fox."

 

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, and Skinner placed a finger over it. "It's one stroke with the strap for every word you say today. I'll keep tally and deliver them this evening. Now, do you think you can take your morning discipline without talking? Screams are fine, and I'll keep it light."

 

Mulder thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, but it was with some trepidation that he lowered himself over his Master's knee. Skinner was true to his word, and the slaps that rained down on Mulder's ass from his bare hand didn't do more than sting, but even so, after the sheer volume built up on his sore ass, Mulder was writhing, and kicking. It took all his willpower not to cry out, or beg his Master for a reprieve. When it was over, Skinner placed him back on his knees, and gave him a deep, searching kiss.

 

"I'm very proud of you, Fox," he said when he'd finished, leaving Mulder almost whimpering for more. "When you can regularly take even the most severe discipline without pleas, or resistance, accept it as your due, as symbolic of your slavery, and kneel and kiss my feet afterwards in thanks, then your training will be complete. This was a good first step. I'm pleased."

 

The afterglow of Skinner's praise stayed with Mulder for most of the day, and the trial of silence actually turned out to be pleasurable, as he watched his Master intently, relieved of the necessity to communicate in any way save through his body language. Skinner was firm but attentive. He took his slave on an hour's leash training - Mulder's nipples were still sore, but the worst of the initial aftermath of the piercing had worn off. Skinner assured him that within 2 weeks they wouldn't give him any discomfort at all. "Then we can really begin to play with them," he promised, touching the tip of his index finger to one, which sent tingles down Mulder's spine.

 

Mulder was now confident on the leash. Learning the signals had been a walk in the park - Mulder's worst enemy was his over-active mind. If he switched off, and, as Skinner had told him to do on so many occasions, surrendered to his submission, then he performed brilliantly. If, however, he tried to think about it too much, or to second-guess his Master, then he usually screwed up. Skinner was firm but patient, and Mulder actually came to actively enjoy his sessions on the leash. He had a mental image of himself walking behind his Master down the corridors of a deserted Hoover building, himself naked, Skinner fully clothed, leading him by the chain attached to his pierced nipples. It was the kind of image that made him immediately hard. He was so used to his aching, unrelieved erection now, that it was easier for him not to be distracted by it. He still couldn't wait to be allowed to come, and he hoped desperately that the party would go without incident, and he could claim his prize of a night in his Master's arms. Skinner had even hinted that he'd perform oral sex on his slave, and Mulder practically salivated at that prospect.

 

Mulder went through a familiar litany of tasks on his day of silence. He shaved 5 balloons, and only killed 3 of them, then performed an extensive workout, under Skinner's watchful gaze.

 

"I'm going to improve your diet - more protein, less junk food," Skinner informed him, as he ran on the treadmill. "And add some definition to your pecs and upper body. I've worked out a program for you that should achieve that. I like you as you are though - I don't want you bulked up, so the program will just tone you, and increase your levels of fitness. Your body is over-stressed," he frowned at the full fitness survey he'd made his slave complete, including an in depth study of his eating habits, fitness methods, body stats, and a cardio vascular work out. "We'll work on that. You'll find that being a slave has its own stresses, but, by and large, it can be a very restful condition."

 

Mulder shot him a look of disbelief, and made his first slip up of the day by not being able to contain the "yeah, right," that slipped out of his mouth. Skinner raised an eyebrow.

 

"That's two with the strap this evening, Fox," he warned. "Keep a tally - I'll ask you for the total later on. I hope for your sake that it doesn't grow too much."

 

Afterward the workout, Skinner took him to the Playroom, and tied him up in the harness again. He didn't blindfold him, and Mulder enjoyed another hour of soothing, light stroking, and tickling. He only earned two swats for not being able to stay still, and he only gasped out a "shit!" once, when Skinner indulged in some prolonged tickling of his armpits. All in all, he thought his Master was pleased with him.

 

Later that afternoon, Skinner made him kneel on the floor with his hands outstretched, and placed a pot in each of them.

 

"Half an hour without moving, then you can go on all fours and be my footstool again for another half an hour," Skinner informed him.

 

Mulder made a face. He hated this human furniture thing. It made his muscles ache apart from anything else, as Skinner insisted on complete stillness. "You can take a rest every time the strain is too much - 30 seconds or so to get the blood moving again, just lower your hands until the ache has gone, then raise them again," Skinner told him. "I'm not asking you to be superhuman, just to learn the benefit of discovering a still center to your soul, and how to inhabit it for short periods of time. If, at the same time, you can also be of service, then that's even better," he grinned, pouring water into one bowl, and filling the other with peanuts, which he helped himself to every time he past his hapless, silent slave-come-coffee table.

 

Mulder sighed, and tried his best to master the skill, but he still hated it. He hated being a footstool even more. There was something utterly degrading about kneeling on all fours with his butt in the air, having his back used as a footrest. Skinner's long legs were heavy as well, and the demands that he be completely still were hard for him to obey. Skinner pulled him into a hug when his half hour was up, and kissed his slave's forehead tenderly.

 

"Well done. I know that wasn't easy," he said, and Mulder laid his head against his Master's shoulder, with a heartfelt sigh.

 

"I hate being furniture, Master," he said mournfully.

 

"That's five more, Fox." Skinner said cheerfully. "Now, I want to use you. Do you think you can remain completely still and silent, while I do that? I can gag and tie you if need be, but I'd prefer it if you learned to obey me of your own volition."

 

Mulder looked at his Master wide eyed. He loved that Skinner found his body so exciting, that he enjoyed exploring it, and opening it. Having his prostate stimulated wasn't quite as enjoyable as being allowed to come, but it was the next best thing. However, he did have a tendency to move around, and shout out a lot during sex. His Master was combining two lessons in one with his question. Mulder thought about it, and nodded - he would try at least.

 

"Good boy," Skinner kissed his forehead again. "Lie down on your back, and open your legs. I'll place you into whatever position I want you in - I don't want you to move at all, and speech is forbidden. If you disobey me on either of those, then I'll add it to the list for punishment tonight."

 

Mulder nodded again, wondering if he would regret turning down the use of the gag, and bondage. He lay on his back on the floor, and opened his legs wide. Skinner knelt between them, and entered a finger into Mulder's anus, probing gently, and thoroughly. Mulder started to moan, and had to bite back the sound. It was much harder than he thought to lie completely still, without moving, as Skinner continued that long, probing caress. Two fingers, then three, and Mulder wanted to shout out loud, and put his arms above his head, to lean into the slow, loving caress. It took all his willpower to resist.

 

After several minutes of this, Skinner undid his jeans, and took out his pulsing erection, stroking it. He laid it against Mulder's inner thigh, and teased him with it, then he unwrapped a condom and placed it on his hard cock. He raised Mulder's legs over his shoulders, and grasped his slave's thighs, impaling him on his cock in one swift movement that made Mulder shout out, then bite on his lip. The first moments of entrance were always slightly painful to Mulder, but when Skinner started to thrust, and found his prostate, that discomfort rapidly changed into an intense, burning pleasure. He was amazed by how much he enjoyed anal sex now. Part of it was the thrill of being dominated, opened by his big, strong, powerful Master, and taken by him without mercy, subject to his whim, and will, but part of it was simply enjoyment of the act itself. Mulder strained every muscle in his body to keep still, and quiet, as Skinner pounded into him, back and forth, stimulating his sensitive nerve endings, and making his whole body quiver with the need to shout, and move. It was hard to lie so still when his anus was being stroked to the heights of ecstasy, and Mulder started to sweat, the moisture dripping off his face with effort. He longed for it to go on forever, and for it to be over, at one and the same time.

 

Skinner had enormous control of his body, and he hadn't been lying when he had told Mulder on his first night as his slave that he could stay hard for a long time. Mulder felt as if he was subject to the most bizarre form of sexual torture he could ever have imagined. Skinner's big body possessed him, slow stroke, by slow stroke, thrusting and withdrawing so many times that the whole event became a haze, and finally Mulder snapped, and flung his head back, the sweat flowing down his neck.

 

"Oh god!" he cried out.

 

"That's another 2 - add them to the tally," Skinner told him between panting thrusts. "Hands back down by your sides, keep very still or it won't be the strap I use tonight - it'll be the tawse." The threat of that particular implement was enough to stun Mulder into silence again, and he bit down hard on his lip, his bare back starting to rub on the carpet.

 

Mulder watched, the enforced stillness and silence making him focus his attention not the sensations in his own body, but on his Master. He noted the way Skinner's strong neck muscles bunched up as he thrust into his slave's body, how his Master's broad forehead was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He watched, fascinated, enjoying the way his Master half closed his eyes as he went about his pleasure, how he focused all of his formidable will on the event, pursued it almost, until he was sated. Skinner came with a long exhalation of breath, and Mulder lay silently, not moving, just watching, as his Master's breathing slowed, and returned to normal.

 

"Good boy. That's another hard lesson. We'll be returning to it several times." Skinner smiled. "I notice you watched me - that's good. Next time, focus on me even more, and you'll gradually learn how to please me. When you can finally come to concentrate on me, and how best to serve me, then you'll have learned the true nature of your enslavement. Remember," he withdrew from his slave's willing body, "your own pleasure is incidental, Fox. My pleasure is paramount. If I choose for you to be rewarded, or for this," he tugged on his slave's hard cock, "to be allowed to release, it's because it pleases me, not because I want to please you." Mulder blinked, drinking in these words, and the breath-taking vision of the full range of his own submission that was being presented to him. His already hard cock almost went into spasm. Skinner grinned, and slapped it.

 

"Down boy!" he laughed. "Hopefully, tomorrow night it'll please me to give this little monster what it's panting for."

 

Skinner got up, rearranged his clothing, and disposed of the used condom, then he clipped Mulder's leash on him and set him some basic household chores to get the house ready for the party the following day. Mulder followed his Master in a haze of silent obedience. He fought his slavery less this day than any other day previously. The serenity he had caught only briefly before, now claimed him, and he was almost surprised when the day came to an end.

 

"Your punishment before bed." Skinner smiled, handing him the key to the playroom. "Go and get the strap, Fox, then go and wait for me in your bedroom." Mulder looked up at him in surprise. "Your bedroom isn't your own personal territory, sweetheart!" Skinner laughed. "You're still my slave in there, just as you are everywhere else. You shouldn't get into the habit of thinking you're exempt from my attentions in any particular place. Go and kneel beside your bed, with the strap in your mouth, and consider what you've learned today."

 

Mulder nodded, and went up the stairs, holding his leash under his tongue. He retrieved the strap and went back to his bedroom, then placed the strap with the leash in his mouth, and knelt, waiting for his Master. He watched as the minutes ticked by - long, endless minutes of waiting. He considered getting up, but somehow he just knew that Skinner would choose the exact moment he disobeyed, to appear in the doorway.

 

Half an hour passed, and Mulder experienced a range of emotions. Nervous anticipation about the spanking mingled with anger about being kept waiting. He tried some mental tricks to help him get through, reminding himself that his Master could keep him waiting if he wanted to, just as he could whip him, when, where, and how hard he liked for as long as he liked, if he wanted to. His buttocks clenched in fear of the event. He could taste the leather strap, and knew that it would soon make hard contact with his ass, but Mulder reminded himself that had no choice but to accept, and allow it to happen. Finally, he reached a state of serenity and acceptance. He switched off, and allowed the time to pass, without noticing it. When Skinner did finally appear, his slave was almost surprised to see him.

 

"Good boy." Skinner patted his head, and took the strap from his mouth. "Bend over the bed." Mulder obeyed quickly, spreading his knees as instructed, so that Skinner had full access to every part of his ass. This also made it harder for him to clench his muscles, and made his bottom feel even more exposed, and available for his Master's correction. Even then, Skinner didn't put him out of his misery straight away. He paused, and Mulder tried to slow his breathing.

 

"I make it eleven in all," Skinner informed him, Mulder having earned a couple more at various points during the day. "Do you agree with that tally, slave?" Mulder thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. "All right. I want you to accept this discipline in the same manner as I asked you to accept your discipline this morning. Without speaking, calling out, or begging. Focus, slave." There was silence. Mulder strained, waited for the first blow, and waited…and waited…Finally he started to relax, to switch off, and regain the silence - and that was when the first blow struck home.

 

The strap was a light, snappy implement, and it stung badly but didn't leave much by way of evidence once the redness had worn off. Skinner whipped it lightly across his slave's ass, and the shock of it made Mulder jump, but he didn't cry out. After six licks he was breathing hard, and he longed to shout out loud, but he didn't. Instead he kept breathing, and kept reminding himself who he belonged to, and what he was being asked to do. He was stunned to find how easily he accepted the stinging swats, and how quickly the whole event was over. When the last blow had been delivered, he turned around, and kissed his Master's feet, and then knelt in happy submission, looking up at his Master with adoring eyes.

 

Skinner was clearly delighted. He crouched down, took his slave in his arms, and kissed him again.

 

"I'm so proud of you. Keep this up, and I'll be the envy of all the other tops in the whole country," he laughed. "If you perform like this at the party tomorrow night, I'll be inundated with requests to buy you."

 

Mulder looked up, his eyes holding a wordless plea.

 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'd never sell you," Skinner reassured him. "Apart from anything else, I don't think anybody else could handle you - and I wouldn't want a runaway turning up on my doorstep every few days!" He laughed, and kissed Mulder again. "You're very special to me, Fox," he murmured. "I promise I'll take very good care of you. Do you trust me?" Mulder's eyes were shining as he nodded. "Good. I know I'm strict with you, but I think you respond well to boundaries. When you can take the lessons I've taught you today about your own submission, and weave them into the tapestry of everyday life, then you'll feel so free you could fly, little one. It won't be easy, and it'll take a lot of getting used to, but I'll get you there. Now, after seeing the benefit of that confessional last night, you can get used to talking to me most nights." Mulder looked up wordlessly, suddenly no longer sure that he had anything to say, but Skinner's expression was firm, and his dark eyes serious. "You can kneel, or sit, look at me, or look down, I don't mind, but I want to hear what's going on in your head. I won't ever punish you for what you say during this half-hour, so long as you are truthful, and polite, and I won't interrupt. All I ask for is your honesty."

 

Skinner sat down on the bed, and gazed at his slave expectantly. Mulder took a deep breath, then found himself crawling over, and placing his head on Skinner's knee. He couldn't look at the other man, but he was reassured by the way Skinner stroked his hair.

 

"I…" He stopped - his voice sounded strange and unreal as he broke his silence. Skinner's hand continued to stroke his hair, encouraging him to continue. "Uh…" Mulder cleared his throat. "Today was good. I found a place…I really liked being there." He closed his eyes, and rubbed his cheek against his Master's thigh. "I want to be everything you want of me, Master, but…I think I'll screw it up." Skinner didn't say anything, and Mulder found it impossible to look at his Master. "You could be harder on me, Master," he shrugged. "Some of that stuff you do to me turns me on so much…I like it when you're hard on me. Okay, sometimes I hate it too, but it sends shivers up my spine, it has an edge to it…I need that edge…"

 

He felt as if he was rambling now, but the words just came out in a disjointed torrent.

 

"Sometimes I feel like I'm flying into orbit, and I need someone to pull me back down to earth, and keep me here - by force if need be. I'd like you to do that for me. I want you to, and in return, I'm happy to serve you. It's easy to worship you for doing that for me. That doesn't make me weak. I'm not needy." Mulder clenched his fists. "With Phoebe, it was…she wanted to dominate me, but then she despised me for allowing it. I didn't get off on her loathing. I wanted more from her than that, I thought we were well-matched, that we had complementary needs, so when I saw the naked loathing in her eyes - that hurt. You…if I thought you despised me for being what I am, I'd be so fucking angry…so…" Mulder couldn't continue, because he couldn't bear thinking about that.

 

"The submissive kink - that isn't all I am. When we go back to work…it'll be different. I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with that… how you're going to deal with that. I have all these questions. I want to know about you, and about the Playroom. How did you get into the Lifestyle, and what do you mean you've tried out all that stuff on yourself?" Mulder paused, but no answer was forthcoming. "I've known you for 6 years and I never guessed, although, hell, I suppose, if I'm honest, I did get off on some of our, uh… altercations." He bit on his lip, wishing he hadn't shared that particular guilty secret, and longing to know what Skinner made of it, only he didn't dare look up.

 

"I know, you've known me the same amount of time, and you probably didn't guess either. Or maybe you did. Jeez, you are so going to regret giving me the opportunity to talk. One thing about this crazy shit deal that totally freaks me, and has taken me by surprise, is how much I want to serve you. The shaving thing…the idea of washing you…I never knew shit like that would turn me on. Phoebe used to fuck with my mind more…I hated that, but I really loved her… This scares me, Master. I go to bed every night, and I wake up every morning scared shitless about how deep I'm getting into this, but it's so good too. So damn good, and I want to give in, I really want to, but there's this crazy Mulder person holds me back sometimes. Fox could kneel at your feet forever, but Mulder…I dunno about him. He's such a difficult bastard."

 

Mulder finally ran out of steam, the stream of consciousness coming to a faltering halt. He watched the seconds tick by on Skinner's watch, and then the time was over. Skinner hadn't said a word throughout. Mulder had no idea how his confessions had been received, but he felt curiously light-headed at having spoken so freely and openly. There was more, so much more, that he hadn't said, and couldn't say, but this was a start. Skinner seemed to think so too, because he got up pulled his slave to his feet, gave him a deep, loving kiss, then pointed to the bed. "Thank you, Fox," he murmured. "Sleep well. Tomorrow's the big day, and I know how cranky you can be if you don't get enough rest."

 

Mulder nodded, and watched as his Master went to the door. He wanted to say more, to ask questions about the party, to tell Skinner how freaked by the whole idea he still was, but he found that he couldn't.

 

"Fox." Skinner turned around as he opened the door. "Just one thing. When we get back to work - it won't be any different. Agent Mulder is merely the public face of my slave, Fox. Fox is what you are. I won't allow you to be two people at once. You're mine; body, heart, mind, and soul. Here, there, and everywhere, as the Beatles once said. Maybe that should be our song," he grinned. Then he turned out the light, and disappeared.

 

Mulder awoke the next morning with a knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He was worried about so many things to do with the party that he wasn't sure what concerned him most. Seeing his old tops, the mysterious 'entertainment' that he was somehow supposed to provide, being displayed naked, having to be submissive all night, and, most of all, he was scared he'd screw up, and there was so much at stake. Not only the night in his Master's arms that he'd been promised, but also his Master's honor, and prestige on the scene. If Mulder screwed up, it would reflect badly on his Master.

 

Skinner, on the other hand, seemed positively jovial when Mulder took him his morning coffee. His Master remained on a high all day, accepting deliveries of food and drink, directing Mulder in tidying up the Playroom, and upstairs lounge, to make it spick and span for their guests, and fitting in a brief session of leash training, and stroking.

 

"Excellent," Skinner beamed as he released his slave from the harness, after their daily ritual of Mulder keeping still while his Master touched him all over. "Not one swat of the paddle. I think you'll be ready for tonight, little one."

 

"Why, Master. What are you going to do to me?" Mulder asked, anxiously. Skinner just grinned mysteriously, and gave him a swat on the backside.

 

"Whatever I want, slave," he reprimanded mildly. "Now, you've done so well that I'm going to grant you a reward. Come with me." He went over to one of the cupboards, and opened it. "You can choose what I wear tonight, Fox," he said, waving a hand at the sumptuous array of clothes inside the closet.

 

This was Skinner's 'fantasy' wardrobe, which contained completely different items to the starched shirts, and formal suits that could be found in his normal closet. Mulder looked in, eagerly. He'd never been particularly interested in fashion before, but there was something erotic about choosing the clothes his Master would be seen in at his slave's party. If Skinner was looking forward to displaying the charms of his naked slave, then Mulder found the idea of making his Master into an object of envy, equally appealing.

 

He rifled through the many costumes, before short-listing a pair of black leather trousers, a black vest, a garnet silk shirt, a pair of stone-colored chinos, a black polo neck, and a leather waistcoat.

 

"Problems choosing, slave?" Skinner inquired.

 

Mulder looked up thoughtfully. "If Master would consider giving me a, uh, display?" he asked.

 

Skinner sighed. "All right - but make it quick," he said, although Mulder noticed that he couldn't stop grinning.

 

Mulder undressed his Master swiftly, and then helped him into the garnet silk shirt, and chinos. Skinner looked magnificent in them, although Mulder just knew they weren't items his Master would be seen dead in at the office or in fact, anywhere but at a scene party. They were too extravagant, the garnet too deep. It made his Master look…exotic. Mulder exchanged the shirt for the black vest.

 

"Now this is a look I could really go for…" Mulder surveyed the way the vest displayed his Master's rippling biceps to best advantage. He hung the leather waistcoat over it, and was pretty damn pleased with the result, but the black items didn't go with the chinos, so he helped Skinner into the leather trousers, then stepped back in awe.

 

"Master looks…hot," he grinned. "But…maybe a bit obvious? Try on the black polo neck."

 

Skinner shook his head. "Just wait until I take you shopping tomorrow, sweetheart," he laughed. "Then I'll get my own back for your indecision."

 

Mulder helped Skinner into the thin cotton polo neck, and took a step back, then felt his knees go weak.

 

"Oh, yeah!" he muttered feebly. The polo neck clung to his Master's broad chest, displaying his rugged good looks to the best advantage, and accentuating his flat, washboard stomach. The leather trousers weren't too tight, but they were snug, and they seemed to make his long legs even longer. "I, uh, think that's it," Mulder whispered, awe struck.

 

"Good. Take them down to my bedroom, then run me a bath. Our guests will be with us in a couple of hours. Kneel." Skinner clicked his fingers and Mulder obeyed immediately. "Fox…" Skinner tilted his head to look into his slave's eyes. "From now on, you're in deep submission and you'll remain that way until after the party. Then, if you behave well, I'll release you from deep submission, and take you to my bed tonight. Do you have any questions before we begin, little one?"

 

"Supposing I screw up?" Mulder blurted.

 

Skinner frowned. "Fox, I've been preparing you all week for this. You're ready. I have every confidence in you. All you have to do is embrace your slavery, and remember all the lessons you've been taught. If you are having any difficulties, you will tell me."

 

"What's going to happen, though, Master?" Mulder couldn't keep the whining tone out of his voice.

 

Skinner sighed. "I'm not going to tell you everything, Fox. You'll go into the unknown, because I tell you to, and because you trust me. I'll be beside you all the way. That's all you need to know. Anything else?"

 

Mulder shook his head, numbly. Skinner nodded, and his whole demeanor changed. He pulled himself up straight, and glanced down at his slave from what seemed to be a great height.

 

"All right, slave. You're in deep submission now. Let me tell you what I expect of you tonight. You will not speak to any of our guests. When they arrive you will take their coats and place them on the bed in your room. If they talk to you, you won't answer, no matter what they say. The only person you may talk to tonight is me, and then only unless spoken to, except in the case of an emergency, or if you need to draw my attention to any distress you're feeling. Our guests won't touch you, little one."

 

Skinner's expression was serious, and his fingers held Mulder's chin firmly, forcing his slave to drown in his gaze throughout this long speech.

 

"Nobody will touch you but me. If anybody does touch you, tell me immediately, and they will be ejected from the party. Forcibly," Skinner said flexing his muscles unconsciously. Mulder nodded gratefully. "It might please me, at some party in the future, to tie you to a spanking horse, with an array of disciplinary implements in a rack beside you, and allow other people to administer discipline under my supervision, but that won't happen tonight," Skinner told him. Mulder's cock did a strange leap. He wasn't sure whether he thought that idea was horrific or not, but his cock certainly seemed to like it. "For tonight, you will wear your leash at all times, and you will watch for my every command. You will concentrate on pleasing me, and obeying my every order. That is all you need do. You are not required to be witty, or charming or entertaining, although I will certainly expect you to display these talents at other parties I might hold in the future. For tonight, I will display you in such a way as to entertain our guests, but I will decide how, and you will merely follow my orders. You will do everything I tell you to, immediately, and without question - without even thinking about it. That is the level of submission and trust that I require from you." Skinner's dark eyes impressed upon Mulder the serious intent of this statement. "That is all, boy. Go and run my bath."

 

Mulder scurried to obey. He ran the bath, added scented oils, and laid out his Master's clothes on the bed. When the bath was ready, he undressed his Master, and placed a towel to warm on the heated rail. He returned to kneel beside the bath, eyes down, completely submissive. He didn't even steal a glance at his Master as he soaked himself thoroughly. After about twenty minutes, Skinner sat up, and instructed his slave to soap him. Mulder obeyed, quickly and efficiently, not daring to steal any kisses. Then he helped his Master out of the bath, enveloped him in the warm towel, and dried him thoroughly, before escorting him into the bedroom. Skinner insisted on his slave dressing him completely, from head to foot, and Mulder reveled in pulling those tight leather trousers up his Master's thighs. He finished by combing the tiny fringe of hair at the back of his Master's head, and then waited in silence, kneeling beside his Master, awaiting further instructions.

 

"Take a shower - and meet me in the playroom. I want to…" Skinner paused, a slight smile tugging on his lips, "decorate you," he murmured. "And Fox?" Mulder turned on his way to the door. "You'll be marked," Skinner told him. Mulder felt his stomach do a nervous flip, but he nodded, and exited quietly.

 

He examined himself in the mirror when he got back to his room. His morning discipline had been light, and despite the punishment it had undergone that week, his butt was curiously clear of marks - Skinner was skilled enough to deliver even quite severe punishment without leaving much evidence. The marks he'd received a few days earlier had now faded almost completely. Mulder shivered. The idea of being marked was a turn on, but the reality of it was damn painful. He knew he had no choice, so he went to the shower, and cleaned himself thoroughly, inside and out, before presenting himself back at the Playroom for his Master. Skinner was already waiting for him, a long, thin cane hanging loosely from his belt. Mulder's stomach lurched.

 

"First things first." Skinner opened the cupboard, and pulled out something that made a tinkling sound. Mulder looked up, intrigued. "I'd like to be able to hear where my slave is at any given point, and although I want to display you naked, a bit of decoration doesn't go amiss." Skinner grinned, and approached his slave. "So…you're going to be the prettiest slave in the house this evening…with bells on." He laughed at his own joke, and Mulder opened his mouth in silent horror. He watched, dismayed, as Skinner clipped a tiny, gold bell to each nipple ring. "Get up, and, uh, prance, boy," Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder knelt there, mutinously. Skinner raised an eyebrow.

 

"I think I gave you an order," his Master told him dangerously. Mulder tried to get back down into his submission, but it was hard when he just knew that if he moved so much as a muscle, his nipples would… ring. Skinner raised the cane, ominously, and Mulder gave in and got to his feet, his face flushing with embarrassment as the bells tinkled. There was an irritating, tinny quality to the sound.

 

"Master, please," he whispered, "don't make me wear these."

 

"Why not? I like them. They're pretty." Skinner placed the end of the cane under one of the bells, and flicked, making it tinkle merrily. Mulder clenched his fists behind his back.

 

"I feel like a fucking fairy or some kind of Christmas ornament or something," Mulder growled.

 

"Well I like the look. Now, I think I told you to prance," Skinner said firmly.

 

Mulder shot him a look of pure hatred, and Skinner drew himself up to his full, formidable height, and stood over his slave. Mulder went eyeball to eyeball with his Master for a long time, and then, slowly, reluctantly, backed down.

 

"I hate this, Master," he whispered, as he attempted to prance, as directed.

 

"And why should that interest me?" Skinner asked dangerously.

 

"Master did say I could tell you if I was in any distress," he reminded Skinner.

 

"And having bells attached to your nipple rings distresses you how?" Skinner demanded. Mulder opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. "There's a difference between being in genuine distress, and submitting to the will of your Master, even when you hate what he is asking of you," Skinner told him. "Don't confuse the two. Remember the cautionary tale of the boy who cried wolf."

 

Mulder nodded glumly.

 

"Come here." Skinner pulled him over to the cupboard, and showed him his reflection. The gold bells were very light, and barely tugged on his nipple rings, but they looked ridiculous - to Mulder's mind at least. Skinner stood behind him, and stoked his nipples gently, with a gossamer touch, mindful of the fact they were still healing. "When these have healed, we'll play some fun games with them. They can stand a lot of pulling." He nuzzled his slave's cheek with his own. "And I have far more interesting ornamentation than these little bells. I had to keep it lightweight for now, but did you know there are weights that can be attached to these? The pull can be very…erotic. Painful, but full of sensation." He pinched Mulder's right nipple lightly, making his slave gasp. "Now, I've had enough disobedience from you, boy. I think it's time to remind you who's in charge. When you go into that party this evening, you'll be wearing the signs of my ownership - my rings on your body, and the marks of my cane on your ass." Mulder felt the handle of the crop push between his butt cheeks. Skinner tightened the hold of his arm across Mulder's chest.

 

"Who do you belong to?" Skinner demanded.

 

Mulder looked at their reflections in the mirror. They seemed to fit together perfectly. Skinner was just a bit taller than him, his bald head in stark relief to Mulder's thick hair. His Master's chest was just broad enough to be visible around the side of his slave's naked body. Skinner's black clothing, so smooth, and satanic, was in contrast to Mulder's pale flesh. There was something so perfect about their reflection. Skinner so much the Master, Mulder so much the slave. He wanted to encapsulate the moment forever, to imprint it on his memory.

 

"You, Master," he replied. "I belong to you."

 

"And what can I do to you?" Skinner asked, flicking a bell with one lazy finger, making it chime repeatedly.

 

Mulder closed his eyes, his body melting against Skinner's black clad form. "Whatever you like, Master," he said, with a resigned sigh.

 

"Good. Now, I'm going to mark you." Skinner took out the leather pouch, and fastened it around his slave's testicles. "Go and stand by the horse." Mulder did as he was told, his stomach flipping. "Ask me." Skinner stood in front of him.

 

Mulder dropped to his knees. "Please mark me, Master," he requested.

 

Skinner held the cane under his slave's nose. "Kiss the cane, Fox," he ordered. Mulder did so, his mouth dry. The cane was long and thin, and quite vicious looking. "I save this cane for special occasions so you won't have seen it before," Skinner informed him. "I've found it marks exceptionally well. It's got a sting on it that you won't believe, but the line it draws is perfect."

 

Mulder didn't feel at all heartened by this news.

 

"Bend over the horse," Skinner instructed. Mulder did so, his heart beating anxiously in his chest. "As this is a special occasion, and as we want our guests to see the extent of your submission, this marking will be particularly severe. This is less to cause you pain, Fox, than to remind both you, and our guests, that you are my possession, and subject to my whim. Understood?"

 

Mulder wasn't sure it made any difference what the reasons were, but he nodded, and steeled himself for the first cut.

 

"Legs further apart, slave." Skinner ran the crop between the inside of his thighs, and Mulder stretched his legs out even further. "Lift that ass up to me so I can kiss it with my cane. I want to make sure my aim is particularly true tonight. I'm going to mark you with parallel lines so our guests can admire my skill. Each mark will be clear, and to do that, I have to hit my target cleanly. Make sure you don't move."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder said, and his voice sounded like a whimper to his own ears.

 

Skinner rested the crop on Mulder's butt for what seemed like an eternity, and then it was removed. Mulder heard a swishing sound, and then the cane landed on his ass, with an almighty streak of pain.

 

"Oh shit." He stood up, and hopped around for a moment his hands going to his abused behind. Skinner stopped them before they got there.

 

"Don't touch my handiwork," Skinner said. "I don't think it'll do you any harm to live with the sting." He put a big hand on Mulder's shoulder, and thrust him back over the horse. Mulder was dimly aware that his Master hadn't been kidding when he said the cane had a sting to it. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. "Prepare yourself for the next one," Skinner told him. Mulder spread his legs wide, his knees shaking, and Skinner caressed his back for a moment, calming him. "Ass up more, that's good."

 

Mulder felt the cane against his buttocks again, and he took a deep breath. Skinner's hand stopped stroking his back, and rested just above his bottom, holding him pressed firmly into the horse so that he couldn't move. The second blow landed fractionally lower, and Mulder let out a loud yell, and squirmed beneath Skinner's hand. Somehow, bellowing at the top of his voice took his mind off the appalling sting of the cane.

 

"We've only just started," Skinner warned, settling his slave back down again. Mulder's heart sank. Last time he had been marked, his Master had only given him three strokes and that hadn't even been with this particularly nasty instrument of torture. Mulder was amazed he'd endured that much. He was sure he couldn't take more than three with the cane, and said as much. Skinner laughed, soothing his back again.

 

"You'll take more than three, Fox. I think 6 would make the right impact on your ass, as well as being, uh, somewhat traditional as well, and I'm a traditional kind of Master. Ass up." He tapped Mulder's ass with the cane, and before the slave knew it, another stroke had kissed his buttocks, leaving a trailing red line of fire.

 

"No more, Master. Please. I can't stand it," Mulder whimpered, trying once more to caress the sting out of his buttocks, and once more finding Skinner's hands blocking his way. He moaned in frustration. Skinner pulled him up, and looked into his eyes.

 

"Fox, you can stand more. You can stand three more to be precise. You'll stand it, because I'm asking you to, and because you want to look your best for this party. You'll enjoy the attention your ass gets, all nice and striped - my own little zebra!" Skinner grinned, and kissed his slave's forehead. "Now, bend over, Fox, and I don't want you to get up again until I'm finished. Understood?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder muttered, angling his face hopefully for a kiss. Skinner laughed, and patted his cheek.

 

"When we've finished you can have your reward, slave," he told him.

 

Mulder bit on his lip, and lowered himself reluctantly back over the horse. He spread his legs, and pushed his ass out before Skinner could tell him. He felt so exposed, his butt waiting to receive its marking from his Master's cane. A part of him just wanted to run away from the pain, but some other instinct kept him in place. He saw himself, naked under his Master's cane, being marked as his Master's property, and his cock sprang to attention. The next stroke bit deep into his flesh, making him cry out again, but he didn't move, and kept his ass in place to accept the next sharp, stinging caress from the cane. The final cut came hard on its heels and Mulder let out a sob of pure pain, tears springing into his eyes.

 

"That's all, boy." Skinner helped him to his feet, and Mulder held onto him, shaken. He was immediately enveloped in a pair of reassuringly strong arms. Skinner tilted his chin and looked into his eyes. "Well done, little slave. I'm so proud of you. I know that wasn't easy. The sting will go soon - no, don't touch," Skinner batted Mulder's hands away from his abused butt again, grabbed them in his own big paw, and held them behind his slave's back. Then he dipped his head, and opened his slave's mouth with his own, holding Mulder tight, his mouth plundering his slave's with passionate force. Mulder melted against that strong chest, and surrendered to his Master's kiss, loving it, losing himself in it. Then Skinner marched him over to the mirror in the cupboard.

 

"Look at how beautiful you are. This is how our guests will see you."

 

Mulder looked over his shoulder at his buttocks, and gave a gasp of surprise. Skinner had placed the marks at evenly spaced intervals, imprinting them with perfect precision on his flesh. Six clear, distinct welts were raised on his ass, each of them the same length. Skinner hadn't made the novice's error of 'wraparound', of lashing the end of the cane around his thigh. The marks stopped at the edge of his buttocks, all in perfect, synchronous lines. Mulder was astounded. He'd never seen a more accurate job with the cane.

 

"Thank me." Skinner prompted. Mulder fell to his knees, kissed his Master's feet, and then kissed the proffered cane, shivering slightly as his lips touched the hated, biting wood. He hoped this wasn't an instrument his Master would use on him too frequently.

 

"Now, I think an hour's silent reflection before our guests arrive will do you good." Skinner propelled Mulder back over to the window. "An ass like this, should be displayed I think." Skinner grinned, slapping Mulder's sore backside soundly, making his slave yelp.

 

That hour went quickly, and soon Mulder felt his Master's breath on the back of his neck, and his hands on his arms, caressing softly.

 

"Time, Fox. Our guests will be here shortly. How are you?" Skinner turned him around to face him. Mulder looked into those dark eyes and trembled.

 

"I'd rather be out chasing mutants, or facing down Big Foot, Master," he admitted, making a face.

 

Skinner laughed. "You'll do fine," he said firmly. "Just keep your eyes on me the whole time, or on the floor. I have every confidence in you, sweetheart. Hell, I've been training you solidly for a week now. You've come a long way. Your old tops aren't going to recognize you."

 

He kissed Mulder's forehead, then attached the leash to the chain hanging from his nipple rings.

 

"Follow me," he instructed.

 

Mulder fell into step instantly behind his Master. After only a few days, it already felt like an old habit, an instinct, something ingrained deep in his soul. It helped that Skinner's ass was framed beautifully in his tight black leather trousers, the two taut globes of flesh jostling inside the fabric, like some kind of ripe fruit, offered up for the plucking. Mulder felt his cock react appreciatively to the sight. He resisted the impulse to grab his Master's buttocks, and sink his teeth into them, but that was pretty much all that was on his mind as he followed along behind.

 

The upstairs lounge was all laid out ready for their guests, with peanuts, pretzels, and other nibbles on the various coffee tables. There was a pile of crudit�s and dips stacked untidily on one side.

 

"Master - shouldn't we make more room for these?" Mulder asked.

 

Skinner glanced at him. "Fox - you're in deep submission. Don't speak again unless spoken to. As for the dips, leave them where they are. I have plans for them later."

 

Mulder dropped his head, and gazed at the floor, trying to recapture the serenity he'd found in deep submission before, and trying even harder to ignore the way his heart was beating so fast in his chest.

 

The small galley kitchen had been turned into a bar, with drinks and glasses laid out. Mulder had already been informed that he would serve his guests with their beverages of choice when they first arrived. At that moment the doorbell chimed, and Mulder's heart flipped wildly. He looked up, wanting nothing more than to bolt wildly out of the door. Skinner placed a hand on his head, and tipped it back down to look at the floor.

 

"Remember who and what you are, slave," he said in a low, sexy growl.

 

Mulder's cock skyrocketed at the same time as his heart plunged and they met somewhere about midway. Skinner opened the door, and greeted someone - Mulder wasn't sure who as he had his eyes down. His Master turned, and handed him two coats, and he scurried off obediently to his bedroom with them, leash in his mouth, ignoring the jingle of the hated bells as he walked. He returned to Skinner's side, and was told what drinks to bring from the kitchen. He did as he was ordered, returned with the drinks, and knelt in front of their guests, holding up the tray with the drinks on them.

 

"Hmmm, most impressive," a man remarked.

 

Mulder recognized the voice as belonging to JM Lucas, one of the top players on the DC scene. He had never played with the man, although he knew him well, and had spoken to him at several parties. It was Lucas who had finally agreed to set up the meeting with Skinner. Mulder relaxed. He had no history with Lucas, who only played with women. "I like the way you have him decorated," Lucas laughed. "I must do something similar with my own sub, sometime."

 

"Stand up, Fox, and show them your markings," Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed, shaking as he got to his feet, and turned around. Skinner's fingers brushed lightly over his welted backside, as he displayed him to their guest. Mulder held still, hardly daring to breathe.

 

"Very nice!" Lucas whistled. "You've outdone yourself, Walter!"

 

"Thanks. It was a pleasure," Skinner grinned at Mulder, and kissed his slave's head, then clicked his fingers. Mulder knelt immediately beside his Master, in the submissive mode, head down, shoulders straight.

 

"An excellent level of obedience. I'm impressed," Lucas murmured. "You achieved all this in just a week, Walter? I'd have said this boy was untrainable."

 

"Clearly not." Skinner patted Mulder's head fondly. "I won't say that it was easy, but with patience, and a healthy dose of discipline, we got there, didn't we, Fox?"

 

Mulder looked up. "Yes, Master," he said, then he put his head down again.

 

"Amazing," Lucas mused, clearly astounded. "I'm pleased you've decided to throw a party, Walter. Your parties are always legendary - perhaps because they're such a rarity. That amazing Playroom you have…I hope you'll be treating us to one of your demonstrations later on."

 

"Of course," Skinner grinned, sipping at the glass of fruit juice his slave had brought for him.

 

The other guests arrived quickly, one after the other, and everybody was assembled by 8:30. Mulder guessed that nobody would dare be late to one of Skinner's parties. He recognized some of his old tops among the guests, but his Master kept him too busy running around with coats, and fetching drinks to be worried by them. People were dressed in the usual scene costumes, and there were a variety of outfits on display. Some were in rubber, some in PVC. There were vamps, virgins, stern Masters, corseted Mistresses, even a couple of transvestites. There was, in short, an endless variety of clothing, and that was just the point. Everybody but Mulder was fully dressed. His solitary naked condition stood out like a sore thumb.

 

When everybody had a drink in their hands, Skinner clapped his hands for silence. That was when the pit of anxiety opened up in Mulder's stomach. Conversely, he felt amazingly alive and alert at the same time, completely preoccupied with watching out for his Master's slightest command, relishing every small caress.

 

"Welcome, friends," Skinner said. "I'm holding this party to introduce my new slave to you, and to display him for your appreciation. I've been working him hard, training him for tonight, so I hope you enjoy looking at him. I've already told you not to touch, and I know you'll all respect that. Fox, stand up."

 

Skinner took the leash out of his slave's mouth, and drew him into the center of the room.

 

"Take a good look everyone!"

 

An appreciative murmur spread around the assembled audience, and Mulder closed his eyes, flushing bright red. He could see a blur of bodies - all of them clothed, while he stood here, stark naked, and chained, being scrutinized. It was so…humiliating. "As you can see, I've pierced him, and decorated him with signs of my ownership. His collar bears my insignia," Skinner traced his fingers over the gold collar around Mulder's neck. "He's parceled up prettily for his Master," Skinner grinned, his fingers touching the gold cock ring. Mulder's cock jumped involuntarily, and the audience laughed.

 

"Looks like he's responsive to his Master's touch!" someone shouted.

 

"Of course. I told you - he's been very well trained," Skinner replied, with a deep laugh. "He bears the signs of my ownership, because he's my property. Fox and I have exchanged contracts," he told the assembled audience solemnly. There was a muttered response, as people digested the implications of this statement. "He is my slave, and I am his Master. He belongs to me; body, heart, mind and soul. Isn't that so, Fox?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder licked his lips, his mouth having suddenly gone completely dry. "Yes, Master," he managed to whisper.

 

"Louder, Fox, they can't hear you, and I don't want there to be any mistake about this," Skinner told him.

 

"Yes, Master. I'm yours. I belong at your feet," Mulder replied. Then, acting completely on impulse, he knelt at Skinner's feet, and kissed his shiny leather shoes. A hush descended over the party guests, and Mulder heard a few heartfelt sighs, and at least one "awww," of appreciation.

 

"All right, little one." Skinner drew his slave back up to a standing position, and kissed his lips softly. "The purpose of this party was partly to show my beautiful slave to you all, and also, by doing this, to remind you that this particular creature is off limits to all of you from now on. If he should approach you, which I very much doubt he'll do, then you should inform me immediately. He isn't free to choose his partners any more. He belongs to me, and will serve only me. If anyone touches him, or propositions him, then they'll have me to deal with."

 

Mulder looked at his Master, a feeling of awe washing over him. Skinner's voice was so determined, and his tone so dangerous, that it sent a thrill running through his body. He could tell, glancing around the room, that some of the other subs there were equally enamored with his Master, and he fought back a wave of jealousy. He felt the bubble they had existed in for the past week, all alone in the apartment, being burst as outside reality intruded in. Skinner had the right to take other subs, or slaves, if he wished. Mulder did not. That was implicit in the terms of their contract. Mulder wondered if he was interesting enough to hold his Master's attention, and the jealousy inside his gut settled into a seething rage. If anyone made so much as the slightest move on his Master, they would answer for their audacity.

 

"I'm sure you all know the difference between a slave and a sub," Skinner continued. "A slave is property. He has signed away his rights to his Master. As an outward sign of this commitment, Fox wears my ring."

 

Skinner picked up Mulder's hand, and kissed his ring finger tenderly.

 

"He's mine to punish, mine to love, mine to do what I like with. He has no rights of his own. He has given himself to me freely, and I wanted to show you all what a beautiful thing it is when this happens. When a person willingly gives himself to a Master, or Mistress, and enters into a state of complete submission, and devotion. It's not an easy life, and I'm sure Fox will tell you that during this initial week of training, he's been on the receiving end of some harsh discipline, but he's learned, and he's learned well. I'm proud of him." Skinner wrapped his arms around his slave, and for a moment, Mulder felt as if he'd been transported to heaven. To be praised, and admired, in front of all these people. Suddenly he understood what Skinner had meant when he'd told him he should be proud to be displayed to his former tops in this way, as an example of what the right Master could achieve, and to show how they had so signally failed him. Mulder glowed.

 

"When I first told my slave he would be wearing these decorations," Skinner flicked at Mulder's bells, "he wasn't very happy about it." A laugh went around the audience. "However, I think they're very pretty. Fox, prance for your guests - let them all admire you," he ordered.

 

Mulder looked at his Master, appalled, a mute plea in his eyes, but Skinner just slapped his butt, daring Mulder to disobey. Mulder clenched and unclenched his fists, then stepped forward and…pranced. He shook his body, so that the hated bells pealed, and rang, and an appreciative round of applause went up from the audience.

 

"Good boy!" Skinner kissed him again, and Mulder heaved a sigh of relief that this particular humiliating ordeal was over with, although somehow, he was sure that there would be more before the night was through. "All right, little one, I think our guests need some time to mingle, and enjoy themselves before the demonstration I'll be laying on later. Please, everyone, help yourself to food and drink. Fox, here, will serve you all by acting as a table for the next half an hour. I'll put the dips on his back, and you can help yourselves. Crudit�s are on the coffee table over here." Skinner pointed, and Mulder's heart sank as he was made to kneel on all fours, and his Master placed bowls full of various dips on his back. He wanted to protest, but somehow his voice wouldn't work. Instead he settled down without a murmur.

 

"All right, Fox?" Skinner asked, tapping his head. Mulder looked up, and drowned in his servitude. He was surprised to find that it was all right. It was more than all right. His whole body was suffused with a kind of sexual excitement he didn't think he'd ever experienced before in his life. To be so totally owned, so completely subject to his Master's will, to embrace his own submission so comprehensively…it made every nerve ending in his body tingle. He wanted to impress his Master, to serve him, and more than anything else, he wanted to be rewarded by his Master's smiles, and caresses, and for the evening to end with his Master taking him to his bed, and allowing him to sleep there. Mulder nodded.

 

"Yes, Master," he whispered, and then he put his head down again.

 

"Good. This is for half an hour. You must stay completely still and not dislodge the pots, but you've done longer than this in training so you should be fine," and so saying, Skinner left him, and circulated amongst their guests.

 

Mulder tried to work out why he was so turned on by this. Being Skinner's slave in private was one thing, but being seen to be his Master's slave, visibly showing his submission, and his training, submitting to this most humiliating of experiences somehow worked at some deep level in his psyche. He wasn't sure how or why. Usually, in his real life, he hated being humiliated, or shown up. It happened so often during his career, from being called "Spooky", to the way he was talked about in the canteen, and jeered at by jerks like Tom Colton. On such occasions it was all he could do to keep his notoriously fiery temper in check. Yet with Skinner it was different. With a jolt of surprise, he realized that with Skinner it had always been different. He remembered the time when he'd barged in on his boss during a meeting. Skinner had allowed him into his office, knowing he would be humiliated, and had made his errant agent stand there, and state why he was protesting his current assignment. Mulder treasured that memory. Skinner had been so hard, so uncompromising - he had used Mulder's agitated state, and brought him down, forced him into submission, his eyes boring into his subordinate's soul. Even then, all those years ago, Mulder had thrilled to the moment, and had gone and jacked himself off, even while trying hard not to figure out why this was such a turn on for him. If it had been anyone else…if it had been someone like Kersh for example, it would have given him no pleasure at all, but with Skinner… Mulder saw a truth he hadn't admitted to himself before: he had been attracted to his Master for a very long time.

 

Mulder was so deep in thought that he barely noticed the constant milling of people around his back, as they discussed whether the salsa dip tasted nicer than the guacamole. On a couple of occasions he felt cold dollops of the various dips drop on his back, accompanied by a muttered "oops," and while one part of him squirmed in humiliation, another part just accepted it all serenely, as his due. His eyes continuously followed his Master around the room, drawn to the big man's leather clad form wherever he went. He saw him laughing, animated, totally alive, in a way the other man rarely was in their working environment. Skinner was a man who understood control, Mulder realized. He understood how to control himself, those under his command, and his slave. The man was a master at it. Mulder smiled to himself. His Master. Skinner was his master, and he was suddenly sure that there wasn't a sub in the room who didn't envy him, as he knelt here, acting as a piece of goddamn furniture of all things, his body marked with so many different signs of his Master's ownership.

 

Skinner removed the dips on the very second that the thirty minutes were up, and wiped Mulder's stained back with a washcloth, then led him around the room, as he continued to circulate. Mulder knelt whenever Skinner stopped, and got to his feet and followed meekly to heel whenever Skinner walked. His Master kept introducing him, fondling him, showing him off to his friends, and extolling his virtues as a slave, punctuating every order with a kiss or caress, barely able to keep his hands off his slave, and Mulder responded in kind, loving the attention.

 

After half an hour or so of this, Skinner ordered his slave to kneel submissively in the corner. Mulder did as he was told, reveling in his submission. He was used to being on the outside, looking in, so this wasn't much different, and he was pleased that Skinner was so proud of him. The unusual feeling of being admired had gone to his head, and transported him to a different place entirely. He was feeling so happy and serene that he was surprised when a voice broke into his reverie.

 

"Looks like you've got your Master well trained," it said.

 

Mulder glanced up from under his eyelashes. He saw a man, at least a decade younger than himself. The kid was beautiful: that was the only word for him. Almond shaped brown eyes, set in an olive skin, and an amazing shock of thick, long black hair, dyed blond at the tips. He was dressed in a tight, leopard-skin vest, and ass-hugging, black velvet jeans that showed off his lithe, graceful body. He held himself like a dancer, and he was sneering haughtily at Mulder.

 

"He thinks he's in charge, but I'll bet you've got him wrapped around your little finger," the youth continued. "Isn't that the way with Masters? We manipulate them into giving us what we like? My Master's that fat guy over there - see." He pointed with his finger, and Mulder couldn't resist taking a peek. The youth laughed at his disobedience. "He won't be my Master much longer. I've seen something I like better, and you know, I don't think much of the competition," the youth smirked. "Oh, I forgot, you're not allowed to talk, are you? Or to move. That's a shame - it means you'll just have to watch while I steal your Master."

 

He gave Mulder a wink, then slipped gracefully across the floor in Skinner's direction. Mulder knelt quite still, his mind racing. He didn't know who the hell the kid was, but he could feel that familiar surge of jealousy rise within. The youth was beautiful, he was young, he was goddamn pushy…and Skinner could take as many slaves as he wanted. Mulder's hands clenched into fists behind his back. He could see Skinner in his mind's eye, kissing this man, making love to him, making Mulder watch from the corner as they shared a bed together.

 

Mulder bit down hard on his lip, frozen in time. He watched, unmoving, as the youth laughed extravagantly at something his Master had said, then ran a perfect, tanned hand over his Master's arm, circled his Master's biceps…even from this distance, Mulder could see the "wow" that formed on the kid's lips, and his expressions of delight. Skinner smiled, and they talked for a few minutes. Mulder could feel the heat rising inside him. The other man was still stroking his Master, still touching him…Mulder couldn't take it any more. He was on the verge of getting up, and doing something really stupid, when Skinner looked in his direction, and clicked his fingers. Mulder was over there like a shot. He elbowed the enemy out of the way, and knelt beside his Master, where he belonged.

 

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Skinner clapped his hands again. "I think it's time for the main event. If you'd like to follow me to the Playroom, I'm going to put on a display, using my slave's body." Skinner pointed in the direction of the Playroom, and Mulder was distracted from his jealousy by the ominous sound of that announcement. He followed his Master obediently, glaring at the kid who laughed at him, and licked his lips lasciviously, in the direction of Skinner's leather clad buttocks.

 

"He's going to forget all about you by the time I'm through with him, sugar," the youth hissed, as he pushed past Mulder.

 

The Playroom was soon filled with a jostling throng of BDSM players - the best on the scene. Those who hadn't been there before, wandered around, awe-struck, looking in the cupboards and admiring the hoist, and harness which were both out, ready and waiting, much to Mulder's concern. He was even more concerned when he saw the enormous bullwhip Skinner was holding.

 

His Master strode into the center of the Playroom, and snapped the bullwhip, making a cracking sound that provoked a roar of delighted admiration. Skinner clicked his fingers, and Mulder found himself obeying on instinct, his legs moving him to his Master's side of their own volition, his mind screaming frantically that he should turn around and run. His outward demeanor gave no hint of this internal struggle though. He knelt beside Skinner, and leaned into the soothing caress his Master gave him.

 

"As a sign of his commitment to me, Fox is going to undergo a very special, transformation ceremony," Skinner announced. Mulder swallowed, hard. He was? "In the old days, when people entered into a monastery, or convent, their hair was ceremoniously shaved to symbolize their new commitment. The transformation of the body can represent the transformation of the soul, the putting aside of the old life, and embracing the new. That is what Fox is going to demonstrate today. I've been training him all week to undergo this particular ceremony. It will be the culmination of our work, symbolizing, both to him, and to me, and witnessed by all of you, that he has chosen to enter into my service as my slave, and he has put his old life behind him. He won't be going back," Skinner said that with such a note of finality that Mulder looked up, surprised.

 

"During the first few days of a new slave contract, there's always a period of wariness, when the slave worries about his decision, and maybe the Master wonders what he's taken on. Many contracts collapse under the weight of expectation, or fear. Fox and I have weathered a couple of crises during our first week, but that's behind us now. He knows what to expect from me, and I from him. The ceremony I will perform next, is symbolic of our commitment to the future - he as my property, me as his Master. Fox, hold out your hands."

 

Mulder did as he was told, and Skinner strapped the cuffs around his wrists, then fastened him, carefully, into the harness, checking each strap, and fastening thoroughly, in an unhurried manner, oblivious to his audience. When he'd finished, he attached Mulder to the hoist, and swung him into the air. It was only then, suspended in mid-air, that Mulder saw the shaving apparatus on the table. His Master had told him that he liked his hair. He'd promised him he wouldn't shave his head. Was he going to renege on that promise? Mulder couldn't even being to imagine what Scully would say if he arrived at work on Monday morning with a shaved head.

 

Skinner left him hanging there for a while.

 

"Admire my slave," he commanded his audience, turning Mulder around so that they could all get a good look at his naked body. "Witness his marking." Mulder felt Skinner's finger on his buttocks. He flushed bright red - this was so embarrassing. "My slave was caned not because he had disobeyed me, but as a demonstration of my skill, and his obedience, and also…" Skinner lowered his voice conspiratorially, "because an ass like this," he pinched Mulder's butt, "should bear its Master's imprint, dontcha think?" A laugh greeted this statement, and a mini round of applause rippled around the room. Mulder knew Skinner to be many things, but he'd never seen evidence of the showman in his Master before.

 

Skinner swung the harness down, and arranged Mulder so that he was lying at a tilted angle, on his back, the whole of the front of his body clearly visible to the audience.

 

"All right, little one," Skinner murmured, reassuring his slave with a kiss. "I've been preparing you for this all week. The stroking?" he reminded Mulder. "There was a method in my madness."

 

Mulder suddenly understood. It wasn't his head his Master was going to shave - it was his body, and he was going to use a…Mulder's balls tried to fight their way back into his body as he saw the cut-throat razor lying on the table. He remembered his own failed attempts at shaving the balloon. Please god, let Skinner be more skilled with that razor that I am…

 

"My slave will keep perfectly still throughout this procedure," Skinner announced. "He's used to his Master touching his body, and understands that it's his Master's wish that he be clean shaven. I'm going to confine myself to his torso, and the area between his neck," Skinner gestured, "and his thighs." Mulder heaved a sigh of relief. At least his arms and legs were to be spared this particular humiliation.

 

He watched, nervously, as Skinner approached, and began lathering his groin, chest, and armpits with shaving cream. Then his Master picked up the razor, and began to scrape away the hair on his body. Mulder was used to being tickled and stroked, but even so, it took all his willpower not to wriggle or squeal as the razor went about its work, shaving under his arms, then down over his chest. It removed the line of hair leading from his navel to his groin, and then Skinner paused, and grinned at his audience, flourishing the razor as he approached his slave's balls. Mulder gave a squeak of alarm, as he felt the sharp edge of the razor on that particular part of his anatomy. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as Skinner worked, slowly and painstakingly, disposing of swathes of dark hair into a dish on the table. Mulder was trembling with the effort of keeping still now. He wanted to scream, and kick out at every tiny caress of that vicious instrument as it carefully worked on the most sensitive part of his body. He knew he mustn't move though - if he did, one small flick of that razor could cause the most unpleasant damage. So he stayed perfectly still. Finally, finally, it was over. Skinner washed the foam from his body, and he looked down on his newly shaved body. His penis was pink and shriveled, bereft of its usual dark nest. It reminded Mulder of one of those sphinx cats, born without fur.

 

"Beautiful." Skinner ran his hand over the smooth flesh. Then he poured some lotion onto Mulder's chest, and worked it into the skin. When he was finished, he turned Mulder over, and his slave realized that his Master hadn't finished yet. His legs were spread, and he was placed in a bent position, his butt exposed to the room. Mulder flushed - this was the most embarrassing position he'd been placed in so far. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the knowledge that the entire room had a good view of his most private of private parts. Skinner lathered the cream over his ass cheeks, and upper thighs, then set to work again. He didn't stop until he'd shaved his slave's butt completely, then he washed it down, and gently rubbed lotion onto the flesh.

 

A round of applause broke out, and some cheering. Mulder heaved a sigh of relief. A part of him enjoyed all the attention being focused solely on him, while another part was curled up in a little ball inside his mind, desperately hoping he'd be able to live it all down, and actually look all these people in the eye again one day. Skinner finished caressing his slave's butt, and lowered him gently to the ground. Mulder looked down on his naked body. There wasn't one cut, not even the slightest nick.

 

"58." Skinner whispered, as he unfastened Mulder from the harness. "In case you're wondering."

 

"58 what, Master?" Mulder asked, confused.

 

"58 balloons to get this good." Skinner grinned, winking at him. Mulder laughed out loud. He actually felt rather proud of his shaved body. There was something silky about it, and he liked the way it made his cock look so clean and pink. "Here's my slave, Fox, newly shriven in celebration of his status," Skinner announced, presenting Mulder to the room. There was another round of applause, and Mulder noticed that the kid in the leopard skin vest was giving him a glare worthy of his own dear Master.

 

"Now for the next part of the demonstration," Skinner said. "Fox, go and fetch my bullwhip." Mulder looked at his Master, wide-eyed, but obeyed anyway. He picked the long whip up in his mouth, and took it back to his Master, trying to balance it so that neither end trailed as he walked. He knelt in front of Skinner, offering it up, and Skinner took the whip from his slave.

 

"Remove my sweater," Skinner ordered. Mulder did as he was told, carefully taking his Master's glasses off first, and returning them again afterwards. He noticed that the audience all seemed most appreciative of his Master's physique - the kid was positively ogling him. Mulder felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. Luckily his Master distracted him at that moment by handing him a piece of paper.

 

"Take this, and go and kneel at the far end of the room," Skinner ordered. Mulder did as he was told. "Hold up the paper, and kneel perfectly still, slave," Skinner instructed. Mulder did as he was told, trembling slightly. He had no idea how skilled Skinner was with that whip, but it took all his nerve not to move, as his Master raised his arm, and swirled the whip into the air, and then forward in his direction. There was a sharp crack.

 

Mulder closed his eyes, fearing the worst, waiting to feel the whip tearing into his flesh. When nothing happened he opened his eyes to find that instead of holding one piece of paper, he was holding two: the whip had sliced the paper right down the center. Another round of applause broke out, and Skinner clicked his fingers as he took a bow. Mulder returned to his Master's side, wondering what other displays of skill the big man had up his sleeve. He soon found out. Skinner placed a hat on his head, and ordered him back over to the other side of the room. Mulder knelt again, perspiring, and discovered the new sensation of sweat rolling down his underarms, as there was no hair to soak it up. He waited, watching as Skinner paced around, cracking the whip into the air, his biceps rippling as he moved. Then his Master was still. He looked at Mulder, concentrated for a few seconds, and then swung the whip forward. It cracked in mid-air again, and Mulder felt the merest whisper on his head, and then the hat went flying. Another round of applause greeted this display. Mulder knelt quite still, waiting until the thumping stopped in his chest, then he got weakly to his feet, and returned to his Master's side.

 

"Master is…magnificent," he whispered, kneeling and kissing Skinner's feet in total adoration. The image of his Master, standing bare-chested, wearing those tight black leather trousers, and whirling that long, vicious whip above his head, was one that would stay with him for the rest of his life. It was his every fantasy made flesh. Mulder was overcome.

 

"To finish off the proceedings," Skinner told the assembled multitude, "my slave would like to address his previous tops, and to apologize for any rudeness in the way he behaved during his time serving them."

 

"I would?" Mulder looked up in dismay.

 

"Yes. You would." Skinner grinned at him. He picked up Mulder's lead, and led him over to a small, stocky man, who had his arms around another man. Both were dressed entirely in bright blue rubber.

 

Skinner clicked his fingers, and Mulder knelt, mutinously, in front of his old top. Skinner nudged him with his foot.

 

Mulder cleared his throat. "I'd like to say…I'm sorry," he whispered.

 

"Kiss Jackson's feet." Skinner prompted. Mulder obeyed. "What is the lesson you learn during your morning discipline?" Skinner asked. "Repeat it, please, Fox."

 

"I belong to you…" Mulder looked up at his Master, and suddenly understood what was required of him. "I am now the property of Walter Skinner. Thank you for your kind attention in the past, sir," he said.

 

"That's okay, Mulder." Jackson grinned down at him. "It was always a pleasure. You were cute, if a goddamn handful. I'm glad you're Walter's problem now, not mine!"

 

Skinner took him to the next top. She was a beautiful, buxom woman, with dark golden hair, wide hips, and vivacious blue eyes. She was one of the first tops who'd taken pity on him when he arrived in DC, and he'd almost fallen in love with her. She had a smart, well-behaved, handsome sub at her side. Mulder was pleased for her. She deserved someone nice.

 

"Elaine, thank you for being so kind to me," he told her sincerely. "I know I behaved like a brat, and ran out on you. I'm sorry." He kissed her feet. "I'm now the property of Walter Skinner," he announced.

 

Elaine smiled at him, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Mulder, you little darling!" she exclaimed. "Walter, you've worked wonders with the boy. He looks so much happier now than when I knew him. I know you'll take good care of him, my dear."

 

"You can rely on it," Skinner nodded to her. He took her hand, and kissed it tenderly, bowing to her. Mulder watched, intrigued. He sensed a history here, and wondered what it was. As Elaine was a dominatrix, who only took men as subs, and as Skinner was a top who preferred male subs…hmmm. Whatever there was between Elaine and Skinner, Mulder wanted to know more. It was inconceivable to him that Skinner had ever been anyone's sub, so he dismissed that thought out of hand. He wondered if Elaine ever wanted to walk on the wild side, and sub to someone safe, like his Master… He was so busy pondering these mysteries that it took a sharp jerk on the leash to remind him that he had other tops to apologize to. Skinner took him to each and every one of his previous tops, and there were several of them. He made Mulder kneel before them, kiss their feet, apologize for his past behavior, and announce that he was now the property of Walter Skinner.

 

When he'd finished, Skinner pulled him to his feet, stood him in the center of the room, and kissed him soundly. It was a long kiss, a claiming kiss, designed to show everybody in the room that this slave belonged to his Master. Mulder loved every second of it. When it was over, they both received another round of applause.

 

"All right, show's over. I hope you enjoyed it!" Skinner grinned. He directed Mulder to help him back into his sweater, and then returned to the lounge. He placed Mulder in the submissive position again, and then went to get a drink. It was at that moment that a pair of shiny PVC boots stopped right in front of him.

 

"Aw, poor, shaven, little bunny rabbit," the kid sneered. "Made to apologize to all the people he's ever fucked for being such a lousy lay."

 

"Fuck. Off." Mulder muttered in an undertone.

 

"Oh, it speaks!" the kid said in an outraged falsetto. "And it doesn't have anything to say for itself. How sad. How bored the bunny rabbit's Master must be. Did you ever see that film, Fatal Attraction, little slaveboy? Did you see what happened to the bunny in that? That's what's going to happen to you, honey. Your Master isn't going to look twice at his bunny after he's tasted Lee. You watch." And so saying, Lee made a beeline for Skinner who was just emerging from the kitchen with two drinks in his hand. Skinner said something to the youth, and continued walking over to Mulder. Lee followed. Skinner held a drink to Mulder's lips, and he drank, eagerly. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was. Lee was simpering, sidling up against his Master.

 

"That demonstration with the bullwhip really impressed me," Lee purred. "I've never seen anyone so accurate. You could try it out on me, any old time."

 

"I'm sure your Master would have something to say about that," Skinner told his admirer.

 

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love to watch," Lee winked.

 

"The bullwhip leaves an almighty sting. I wouldn't use it on anyone but my own slave." Skinner fondled Mulder's head fondly. Mulder wasn't sure whether to be pleased or dismayed by that piece of news. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have someone I need to speak to," Skinner smiled affably, and left.

 

Lee smirked down at Mulder. "It's just a matter of time, honey," he said.

 

"Leave him the fuck alone or…" Mulder began, looking anxiously out of the corner of one eye to make sure Skinner was out of earshot.

 

"Or what? You can't do anything, sugar, your Master's got you hobbled! Lee grinned. "Which leaves the field clear for me. After all, why would he want a weak, obedient piece of shit like you, when he could have someone with balls, someone who's more fun, someone who'd be a real challenge to him!" He sauntered off in the direction of the bathroom.

 

Something inside Mulder snapped. The place was thronging with guests. He only needed a couple of minutes alone with that little jerk, and he'd soon scare him off. He saw Skinner talking animatedly to a group of his friends. Everyone else was busy chatting, and drinking. Nobody was looking at him. He stood up, and moved noiselessly towards the bathroom. He waited outside, and when Lee emerged a few seconds later, he grabbed his neck, and pushed him back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

 

"Listen to me, you little shit. Skinner's mine. You don't touch him. Nobody touches him."

 

"Oh, funny, I thought you belonged to him, not the other way around," Lee sneered.

 

"I don't give a fuck what you thought. He's mine. Go near him again, and I'll damn well kill you," Mulder snapped. He was so angry, he couldn't even think straight. Lee had called him weak, he had sneered at the submissive state Mulder had been so proud of being able to achieve, and which he'd worked so hard at. Worse than that, he had tapped into Mulder's fears of inadequacy, the insecurity that still dogged him from his relationship with Phoebe, by suggesting that his Master might be bored by him.

 

"Yeah, right. The shaven, collared, ringed…belled," Lee reached out a finger and flicked at the bells contemptuously, "slave, is really scaring me now!" Lee laughed. Mulder's fists went into action before he could stop himself. He swung a right hook at Lee's jaw, knocking him back against the toilet, and then jumped on top of the prone man, and pummeled him repeatedly in the stomach. Suddenly his fists stopped working - someone had grabbed his arms from behind.

 

"Stop that, now!" a low, growling voice barked in his ear. "Is this what you call obedience, Fox. Is it?"

 

Mulder's heart sank, and all the fight went out of him. He could hardly bear to look into his Master's angry brown eyes. He took a step back, and looked down on his whimpering tormentor.

 

"He's been winding me up all fucking evening," he fumed at Skinner.

 

His Master clicked his fingers, but Mulder ignored him. He drew himself up to his full height, and glared back at Skinner. "Don't give me that submissive crap. This bastard has been rubbing himself up against you all night. Every time your back is turned he comes over and taunts me. You can't damn well expect me to stand by and watch some stupid kid fawning all over you. It's not fucking fair!" Mulder ranted. "I'm not a machine, Skinner. I've done everything you asked me to, I…" He trailed off, as he took in his Master's body language. Skinner was standing with his hands on his hips, his face dark with anger. "Shit…I'm in real trouble now, aren't I?" Mulder asked miserably.

 

"Yes, you are. Now kneel down and shut up, and I'll see if I can limit the damage you've caused," Skinner snapped. Mulder opened his mouth to protest again, but he felt like a kid in the school playground, saying "it was all his fault, sir, not mine," and it sounded lame, even to his own ears. He got down on his knees, his eyes still rebellious, and watched as Skinner crouched down beside the kid, and examined his cut lip.

 

"You'll live, Lee." Skinner said, his tone almost amused as Lee continued to sob. "Get up, you'll be fine." Skinner helped the other man to his feet.

 

"You can't just let him…" Mulder began. Skinner silenced him with a glare. "Fox - heel, and put that damn leash in your mouth - maybe that'll shut you up. Follow me, keep very quiet, and listen carefully," Skinner told him. "Lee, this way." He put his arm around the kid, and ushered him back to his Master, singling him out of the crowd and taking him into a private corner. "Lee has behaved very badly this evening," Skinner told the fat man. Lee's head spun around in dismay. "Please take him home. He isn't welcome here any more. And, Mike, when you get him home, see that you give him the worst punishment he's ever had," Skinner instructed. Mike raised an eyebrow at Lee, took hold of him by the arm, and dragged him away. Mulder watched them go, then glanced up at his Master.

 

"Thank you," he mumbled.

 

"I told you that if you were in any distress, you could speak to me at any time," Skinner snapped. "You chose not to do that. You chose instead to disobey me."

 

"I know. I'm sorry," Mulder sighed.

 

"No you're not, but you will be," Skinner warned ominously. "Now, you're just damned lucky that all took place in private. I'll deal with you properly later, but for now, I think I have a way of keeping your mind focused in one place."

 

He disappeared in the direction of the Playroom, and returned a few seconds later with a length of chain. He attached one end to the chain hanging between Mulder's nipples, and the other end to his cock ring. Mulder stared down, uncomprehending. The chain was slack, and apart from being a nice piece of decoration, it didn’t seem to serve any other function. "Submissive position - now!" Skinner ordered. Mulder put his head down, and pulled his shoulders up straight, and then gasped in pain, as the slack chain became taut. It only exerted the tiniest pressure on his sore nipples, but it was enough to damn well hurt. "Keep your shoulders back - if they slacken, I'll notice. I'll be watching you," Skinner warned. "Now kneel there, like that, until the party's over."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder whispered. His nipples hurt like hell, but he knew that was all his own fault, and no less than he deserved.

 

Mulder knelt in abject misery for another half an hour or so. He had fucked everything up. He had been so close to achieving his goal of spending a night in his Master's bed, and now he knew that wouldn't happen. He bit back the tears of anger, frustration, and sheer disappointment, but two escaped, and crept silently down his cheeks. He couldn't even move his hands to wipe them away, as Skinner would be sure to notice.

 

Their guests began to leave, and soon there was only Skinner and a couple of his closest friends left, including J M Lucas, and Elaine. Skinner returned to his slave, and undid the chain that was tormenting his nipples. Mulder breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"All right, Fox?" Mulder looked up in surprise. His Master's tone was gentle, and loving. His big fingers caressed away the wetness on Mulder's cheeks, and dropped a kiss on his mouth. "Come on, little one, you must be tired. We're going to sit down and talk for a while. You can join us."

 

Skinner led him over to the couch and sat down, then pointed at the floor beside his feet. "Any position you like, just relax," he told his slave. Mulder nodded, and rested his head on his Master's knee, looking up at the other man adoringly. It was dark in the room - which was only lit by one lamp, and the flickering orange glow of the flames in the grate. It was peaceful. Mulder sighed. He loved looking at his Master, watching him talk, watching him listen to his friends talking. Skinner's face looked so familiar, so handsome, the light illuminating the cleft in his jaw, and the golden hue of his skin. Mulder sighed, and moved his head so that he could kiss his Master's fingers. Skinner smiled, and gently stroked his slave's head.

 

"You've worked wonders with that boy," Elaine remarked. "Really, Walter, it's a joy to watch him like this, so happy in his slavery. I'm glad he finally figured out where he belongs," she smiled at Mulder.

 

"Elaine's right. He's just where he should be," Lucas commented. Mulder thought it was strange the way they were all talking about him as if he wasn't there. "When he was making a nuisance of himself, pestering me to contact you, throwing himself around the scene, getting himself a reputation, I just despaired of him. Seeing him here tonight, it's like a miracle. He's been transformed."

 

"He just needed a firm hand." Skinner smiled, ignoring his slave. "He was running out of control. He needed to be brought down."

 

"And you were just the man to do it," one of the other men said. Mulder didn't know his name. He gazed dreamily at his Master, tracing imaginary lines over the other man's lips. He knew he'd be punished severely for what had happened with Lee, but he didn't care right at this moment in time. It just felt so good to be sitting here, naked, at his Master's feet, adoring him.

 

"How did you manage it?" the man continued. "What's your secret, Walter?"

 

"Discipline, discipline, and more discipline!" Skinner laughed. "No, seriously, lots of hard work, Jeff. The details are between me and Fox. Taking him as a slave, rather than just a sub helped."

 

"Yes, that was intriguing," Elaine's soft, mellow voice. "I have my reservations about 24/7 arrangements usually, but it seems to have worked in this case."

 

"I agree with you, Elaine," Skinner said, nodding his head in her direction. "Usually I wouldn't consider a 24/7 arrangement either. There has to be an enormous degree of trust between the two participants in such an arrangement."

 

"I didn't even realize that you even knew Mulder before you took him on," Jeff commented.

 

"Oh yes. I knew him. I knew him very well," Skinner chuckled.

 

"I'm of the opinion that lifestyle slavery only works when the Master or Mistress and the slave love each other," Elaine commented. "Otherwise it can lead to abuse."

 

"Hmm, take Mike and Lee for example," Skinner sighed. "That's a relationship that really isn't working. There's no love there at all."

 

"Oh god, yes. They're a terrible couple!" Lucas laughed.

 

"What about love, though?" Elaine pushed, clearly worried about this issue. "It seems evident to everyone in the room that your slave is crazy about you, Walter, but how do you feel about him?"

 

Mulder went quite still, his shoulders freezing under his Master's insistent caress.

 

"Fox's emotions are new to him, aren't they sweetheart?" Skinner smiled, and ran his fingers through Mulder's hair. "I think he's been surprised by the bond that developed between us, and because his emotions are so new, they sometimes overwhelm him." He looked at Mulder meaningfully, and his slave bit on his lip, remembering the fight in the bathroom. "For me, well, it's easier for me to keep my emotions under control - it's what I've been doing for years after all!" Skinner laughed. "Of course I love my slave, Elaine. I've known him for six years and I've grown to love him more as each one passed. I knew he'd have to come to me - that was the only way we could make it work, but even then I resisted for a long time. Sometimes it's hard to believe I have the reality after so many years wanting him. He's the perfect slave, just the right mixture of charm, initiative, challenge, and spirit. What's the matter, Fox? Were you really in any doubt that I love you?" Skinner asked, noticing his slave's look of amazement.

 

"I…yes, Master. I didn't know. I thought I just amused you," Mulder whispered.

 

Skinner roared with laughter. "Fox, I've been in love with you for far longer than you've been in love with me, sweetheart," he sighed. "It's been a long, lonely road. There have been many times I've wanted to take charge of you, and give you what you need. I'm glad you finally managed to ask for it, although I suspect we have many difficulties ahead. Don't ever doubt that you're loved, little one." Skinner leaned forward, and kissed his slave softly on the lips. Mulder melted into his Master's thigh, his heart pounding. He knew in that second that he could take any punishment his Master gave him because he was loved. He was on cloud nine, far above the stars. He didn't hear the rest of the conversation as his mind buzzed with this new information. His Master loved him. He loved him…he had loved him for years…Mulder felt warm and safe, and shit, yes, actually happy, in a way he didn't remember feeling in his life before.

 

When the last of the guests finally left, Skinner commanded him into the confessional position.

 

"Well, slave," he sighed. "Have you earned your night in my bed?"

 

"No, Master," Mulder replied in a small voice. "I'm sorry. I let you down."

 

"Yes, you did. That display of jealousy was petty, and unnecessary. Do you really think I was interested in that stupid kid?"

 

"I don't know, Master," Mulder replied. "Are you going to punish me, Master?"

 

"Yes, but I'm going to offer you a choice as to how," Skinner informed him. Mulder looked up in surprise. "You behaved impeccably apart from that one lapse. I was proud of you, and you saw how impressed my friends were. Tonight was a great success, and you helped to make it so. Now, I know that you wanted to spend the night in my bed, and I'm still prepared to offer you that," Skinner told him. Mulder's face broke into a smile, and he scurried forward and kissed his Master's feet.

 

"Thank you!" he beamed.

 

"Wait - there's a price," Skinner said solemnly. "You do have to be punished, Fox. You can either be punished by not sleeping in my bed tonight, or, and I want you to think very carefully about this, you can sleep in my bed, but in the morning I'll use the bullwhip on you." Mulder's heart leaped into his mouth. "The bullwhip is a special punishment," Skinner continued, "which is why I want you to think about this very carefully. It won't be an easy thing to endure."

 

Mulder did think about it, but not for very long. Much as he was scared of the bullwhip, he didn't know when he'd ever get another chance to spend the night in his Master's bed. He'd cope with the bullwhip tomorrow, but for tonight, he'd sleep in his Master's arms.

 

"I want to sleep with you, Master," he told Skinner.

 

"Are you sure? Be very sure, Fox," Skinner warned him. "You've seen the bullwhip in action."

 

"I am sure, Master. Please, take me to your bed," Mulder begged.

 

Skinner's expression softened, and he broke into a smile. "Very well, sweetheart. Go and run a bath in my en-suite. We'll share it," he said.

 

Mulder ran to do his Master's bidding, and ten minutes later, he was sitting between Skinner's legs in the big corner bath, soaking up the warm water, relishing the feel of his Master's arms around his body. He had never felt so relaxed in his life.

 

"Fox, you can come out of deep submission now," Skinner nuzzled at his ears with his lips. He had already removed his slave's bells, and the chain linking his nipple rings. "I want you to be yourself. Talk to me. Tell me what you thought of the party - you can be as honest as you like. There won't be any repercussions for it." He squeezed Mulder's chest encouragingly. "How do you like being shaved?" he grinned into Mulder's ear.

 

"I'm not sure. It's different," Mulder grinned back. "Do I have to stay this way forever?"

 

"No, that's not necessary." Skinner kissed his head. "However it will make what I intend to do to you tonight nicer for me!"

 

"What's that, Master?" Mulder asked, craning his head to look up into his Master's eyes.

 

"I'm going to take you into my mouth, and remind your poor cock what it's been missing," Skinner told him. The cock in question immediately leapt to attention. Skinner laughed, and fondled it gently. "I'll shave you occasionally, when I feel like it, but you don't have to keep yourself shaved." Skinner nibbled Mulder's neck.

 

They talked for half an hour about the party, sharing observations, laughing about the costumes a couple of the guests had been wearing. It was so nice, Mulder thought, to be lying here in the arms of someone he loved, someone who loved him. He didn't care what the future brought, or about the past. At least he had this one moment in time.

 

They got out of the bath only when the water became cold. Mulder picked up the towel to dry his Master, but Skinner brushed it aside, enveloped both of them in it instead, and dried them both. "Fox." He looked down into his slave's eager eyes. "Have you ever had a male lover before?"

 

"What do you mean?" Mulder frowned, confused.

 

"I mean, have you ever been involved with a man who you had plain, old, regular sex with, not just the BDSM variety?" Skinner clarified. Mulder shook his head. "I thought not. Well, tonight, that's what you've got. There's not going to be any BDSM, there's just you, and me, two lovers, sharing a bed. That doesn’t mean you're not still my slave," Skinner grinned, "just that for tonight, this is how I choose to love you. Go and wait for me in the bed, sweetheart."

 

Mulder did as he was told, trembling in anticipation. The sheets felt cool against his warm, clean skin. He waited there, until Skinner came into the room. His Master turned off the light, and slipped into the bed beside him. He pulled Mulder into his arms, and held him, kissed him tenderly, in a way no other top had ever kissed him before. His hand stroked Mulder's body, his fingers rubbing inside him.

 

"We'll rely on the alarm to wake us tomorrow," Skinner whispered. "So you're exempt your normal wake up call." His head dipped, and he kissed his slave's throat, and neck, ending up at his abdomen, then disappeared further, down to his groin. Mulder's cock was already erect by the time Skinner's warm, wet mouth descended on it. Skinner swallowed him whole, and Mulder gasped out loud, bucking into the expert caress. Skinner's hands continued to gently stroke and caress his body, while his mouth devoured him. It was too much for Mulder. He ran his hands over his Master's naked scalp, mewling and whimpering in ecstasy.

 

"Oh, that's good, Master…oh fuck…Master…oh shit…" and after several days abstinence, Mulder came. And came. And came. He tried to draw back, but Skinner held his thighs close, and devoured every drop. Then he emerged once more, grinning.

 

"Like that?" he asked.

 

"It was wonderful," Mulder sighed dreamily. He snuggled up close to his Master's furry chest, and laid there for a long while, just licking and kissing the other man's body. Skinner's hands meanwhile kept up their languorous stroking on Mulder's skin, soothing, and loving him. Mulder could feel his Master's hard cock digging into his thigh. "Can I take care of this?" he asked, taking the broad length in his hand, and savoring the feel of it.

 

"If you like," Skinner smiled. "I don't need any release though, Fox. I've had plenty this week."

 

"I’d like it if…would you…?" Mulder's hand increased its pressure on his Master's cock, and he could feel it pulsing into life between his fingers.

 

"What, Fox? What do you want? This is your evening," Skinner whispered.

 

"I'd like you to make love to me, Master," Mulder told him. Skinner smiled, and kissed his slave's forehead.

 

"All right, sweetheart. Lie on your back."

 

Skinner rolled over, and got a condom out of the night-stand, and put it onto his hard cock. Then he turned back to his slave. He knelt between Mulder's legs, and inserted a finger inside him. Mulder groaned, and bucked. Skinner inserted another finger, then another, before pushing Mulder's legs further apart, and gently pushing his cock inside the other man. Mulder stared. He was fascinated by this position, as he had been last time his Master had used it. He loved watching his Master make love to him. He rested both his hands on Skinner's shoulders, and opened up his body, pulled his Master deep inside him, relishing the power and hard length of his Master's cock as it made love to him.

 

"Oh god, it's so good," Mulder sighed, Skinner's cock rubbing his prostate into a frenzy of sensation. His Master came, and collapsed on top of Mulder, softening inside his slave. Then he withdrew, and threw the used condom into a dish on his nightstand.

 

Mulder was utterly sated, and spent. It had been the perfect ending to a perfect day. Skinner rolled towards him again, and took him in his arms.

 

"Now sleep, sweetheart. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow," he murmured.

 

"I want this night to last forever." Mulder didn't think he'd ever been more relaxed in his life before, all wrapped up in his Master's loving arms, their naked bodies entwined. Skinner's flesh was warm and comforting, and his Master occasionally kissed his ear, or nuzzled his neck. He could feel the other man's chest hair on his back, and the weight of his body pressed against his own.

 

This was where he belonged, this was the only place he could truly call his home. It was his natural environment, and he knew he could never be truly happy anywhere else. With a sigh, Mulder closed his eyes and fell asleep, locked in his Master's loving embrace.

 

---

Chapter 9: Suits You, Sir

The room was dark, and there was something warm and heavy resting on his thigh. Mulder felt disorientated, wondering where he was, and why he felt so damn good. He shifted his hip, and the weight on his thigh moved, then settled again a bit lower down. Mulder wondered what it was, and what it was doing in his bed. He opened his eyes, then closed them again with a contented smile. Skinner's arm. His Master's arm was draped over his slave's body.

 

Mulder frowned. Something soft and furry was nestled under his chin, and it was vibrating. Mulder opened his eyes again, and glared at Wanda. She notched her purring up a decibel, and rested her head proprietarily on Skinner's shoulder. Mulder nudged her out of the way with his chin, and claimed this prime position himself. It was strange seeing his boss, his Master, at such close quarters - asleep, unguarded, emitting his powerful Skinner pheromones that made his slave dizzy.

 

Mulder studied his Master carefully for several minutes. Skinner looked so different asleep and at such close, intimate quarters. He looked much younger for a start. Without the aura of power that usually surrounded him, without the trappings of his office, his trademark white shirt, without his glasses…he looked serene, and he had a rugged, intensely masculine beauty that turned Mulder on.

 

Mulder pressed his lips gently against his Master's shoulder, enjoying the feel of the bare flesh under his lips. His welted butt ached, and his nipples were sore, but he had never felt more relaxed in his whole life. He felt somehow different this morning. Mulder kissed his Master's shoulder again, and pondered the change. He felt…happy. No, it was more than that, it was something much more profound. A wave of peace and radiance swept through him as he remembered last night. Skinner had said he loved him. More than that, he'd loved him for years. Mulder went through every single one of their confrontations in his head, since the moment Skinner had taken on the X Files, and tried to figure out how the hell that had happened. He remembered drug induced tantrums, throwing a punch at his boss, his constant rebuttals of the other man's authority, to say nothing of his own paranoia and distrust. He winced as he recalled the numerous occasions when he had accused Skinner of betraying him, or his work, and yet Skinner was here, solid, unmoving, like the proverbial rock. He had always been here, catching Mulder when he fell, cleaning up after him, and yes, disciplining him when he needed that too. It was as if Skinner understood him, in a way nobody else ever had, or ever could - not even Scully. Skinner saw the darkness inside his slave, and neither allowed Mulder to drag him down into it, nor held back from reaching into the void to anchor him to sanity. Mulder remembered calling him his beacon in the night once - he'd meant it facetiously at the time. He would never have guessed the resonance the words would one day hold for him.

 

The hand on his thigh shifted, and Skinner muttered something in his sleep. Mulder moved closer, and pressed his body against his Master's as if he wanted to melt into him. He could feel Wanda's soft, furry presence between them, the three of them warm, close, sleepy. Usually, this was the time when he ran. He had managed to separate love and sex quite happily for several years. He hadn't wanted this. He still wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. He had been looking for an extreme thrill, a way of satisfying sexual urges that wouldn't go away, and he had found this instead. Last night had been the first time he had ever made love to another man. Love. Love, as opposed to sex. Love, as opposed to giving his body over to sensation, to use and abuse in order to get the high he craved. And it had been good. Mulder shivered, and burrowed his head into Skinner's warm chest, whimpering softly to himself. He was scared by how much he wanted this, by how completely he'd fallen in love with his Master, his boss, in just this short space of time. By denying him his liberty, Skinner had effectively forced him to stay around long enough to care, and more importantly, to be cared for. Mulder wasn't used to the sensation. A part of him wanted to run, while another part, one that he had denied for so long, wanted to rest his head on Skinner's shoulder forever, and never leave his Master's side.

 

He was so busy thinking, that he gave a start of alarm when he looked up to find his Master's eyes open, and his gaze fixed on his slave.

 

"Awake, little one?" Skinner kissed his hair.

 

"Yeah." Mulder smiled, and stroked his hand along his Master's thigh.

 

"And thinking hard, I see." Skinner drew him into the circle of his warm, strong arms, and held him.

 

"Yeah." Mulder shrugged.

 

"About?"

 

Mulder hesitated, then looked up into his Master's eyes. "Love," he admitted honestly, "and what you said last night."

 

"Ah. Love," Skinner murmured absently.

 

"Yeah. I never thought I was interested in all that emotional crap," Mulder confided.

 

"But?" Skinner prompted.

 

"Today I woke up happy, Master, for the first time," Mulder whispered.

 

"Good." Skinner grinned.

 

"No, you don’t understand." Mulder looked up again. "I woke up happy for the first time ever, in as long as I can remember. Usually, every morning I wake up to the same old angst of being me, of living my life the way I do. I wake up thinking 'fuck, another day.' Today…I woke up thinking that being me could be pleasurable for a change…"

 

"That's good." Skinner's hands ran up and down his slave's back.

 

"…and I wanted to run away," Mulder finished.

 

Skinner's hands found his welted buttocks, and stopped, pressed hard on the sore flesh, making Mulder squirm. "Well, that's not an option, slaveboy," he growled. "You belong to me, and the penalty for running away isn't one you want to pay."

 

Mulder's eyes were alight and curious, and his cock lurched to attention. Skinner in he-man mode always did it for him. "What would you do, Master?" he asked, in a faltering tone.

 

Skinner's expression hardened, and his eyes were deadly serious as he replied. "I'd track you down, drag you back here, and whip you within an inch of your life," he promised.

 

"Oh." Mulder wasn't sure why he found that reassuring.

 

"And when I'd finished tanning your hide, I'd hold you down, hold you damn tight, and keep you there, until you told me why you'd left. I wouldn't allow you to be dishonest, or flippant, or to get by on those half truths, and that half baked crap you tell yourself, in order to hide from what you want most," Skinner informed him.

 

Mulder thought about this for a moment, then kissed the other man's lips, tenderly.

 

"Thank you, Master," he whispered.

 

They drifted off, dozing for a while, then, without warning, Skinner angled his knee forward, and pulled Mulder's body over it, so that his butt was raised a little way in the air, then the big man thrust a finger inside his slave's body. Mulder moaned, and wiggled, accepting the finger, opening under the caress. Another finger followed. Skinner's other hand came down on his slave's back in a hard, fluid motion, pinning him to the bed, immobilising him there. One more finger joined those already probing inside Mulder's ass.

 

"Have you ever been fisted, boy?" Skinner asked, in the low, throaty tone that made Mulder's cock ache.

 

"No, Master," Mulder whimpered, his rectal muscles clenching in response to this horrifying question, trapping his Master's fingers in his body.

 

Skinner laughed. "Not today, little one, not today," he soothed, "but one day soon." He slid his entire hand into Mulder's body, keeping the fingers straight. It didn't hurt - a part of Mulder liked the sensation of accepting any part of his Master's body into his own. It seemed to be the ultimate expression of his Master's power and authority over him. Another part of him remained frozen with fear at the very mention of the word "fisting". Skinner had big hands, and Mulder was sure they would make very capable, very large, fists. It didn't bear thinking about.

 

"Scared, boy?" Skinner asked, one hand stroking his slave's trembling body, as the other caressed insistently inside him.

 

"Yes, Master," he replied.

 

Skinner laughed, and kissed the back of his neck, nipped at it like a lioness picking up her cub by the scruff of his neck. "Good," he replied, in that low, sexy drawl.

 

"Master, can I come?" Mulder asked, writhing, pressing his cock into the bed.

 

"No. I thought I'd made that clear," Skinner replied. "Unless I tell you otherwise, you can only come with my permission, boy. You'll experience pleasure entirely at my discretion."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder's body tingled at his Master's words and tone. He felt Skinner's tongue on his buttocks, tracing a line along the welts that had been raised there the previous day, and he squirmed, and moaned.

 

"Keep still," Skinner advised. "I'm in the mood to play - that's one of the consequences of waking up to find my naked slave in my bed. If you don’t like it, then don't insist on sharing my bed, boy."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder panted, privately thinking that being played with was hardly a disincentive to asking to spend a night wrapped up in his Master's arms.

 

Skinner stroked light, gentle circles on his slave's buttocks, then pressed harder, his large, blunt fingers massaging Mulder's sore ass, making his slave cry out, at the same time as the younger man's cock got harder within its golden prison. Skinner moved down the bed, and trapped Mulder's body beneath his own, covering him with a heavy thigh, and strong, furry chest. Mulder lay, inert, trying to remember to breathe. He felt Skinner's tongue on his ass again, then his Master pulled his buttocks open, and Mulder gave a squeal of pure pleasure, as the sensitive nerve endings on his asshole responded to his Master's wet caress.

 

"Have you ever been rimmed before, boy?" Skinner asked, his voice muffled by the bedclothes, and his close proximity to Mulder's butt.

 

"No, Master," Mulder panted, taking a fistful of sheets in one hand, and slipping the other one down to caress his aching cock.

 

"Hand back up." Skinner slapped his butt hard, and Mulder obeyed him quickly, flushing. "Okay - I think we need to invent a new rule, slaveboy. The only time you touch your cock from now on is when you use the bathroom. Other than that, it's out of bounds to you. It belongs to me, and I'll say when, and if, it's going to get any attention. If I catch you touching it you can bet the punishment will be swift, and painful. Understood?"

 

"Yes…Master…" Mulder agreed, writhing as Skinner dipped his head back down to continue rimming his slave. His Master never ceased to amaze him. If he had assumed, after last night, that he had any rights, or any new privileges, then Skinner had been quick to disabuse him of that notion. Last night Skinner might have treated him as a lover, but this morning he was quite clearly back to being a slave again.

 

Skinner's hands massaged, and kneaded Mulder's sore buttocks, at the same time as he skilfully licked his slave's sensitive opening, overloading Mulder's nervous system with the twin sensations of pleasure and pain in a way that threatened to make him black out. He gasped, and began to rhythmically thrust against the bed in time to the kneading, licking rhythms until he was sure he couldn't last any longer.

 

"Please let me come, Master," he begged.

 

"No," came back the inevitable reply. "Do you seriously think the slave should come before the Master? Do you, boy?" Skinner slapped his butt again, and Mulder yowled.

 

"No, Master…I'm sorry!" he cried.

 

Skinner returned to his work, and Mulder endured the delicious torment, until his entire body was drenched with sweat, and he wasn't coherent. He kept himself from coming by the skin of his teeth, his cock almost going into spasm with need. He longed for it to stop, and to go on forever, at one and the same time. Finally, it came to an end, and Skinner's head reappeared beside him on the pillow.

 

"I'm hard - ride me," Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder gulped, and nodded, trying to pull himself back together for long enough to obey. He got up, pushed the sheets back, and found his Master's large, hard cock standing out straight. Mulder fished a condom out of the night-stand, and placed it reverentially on his Master's cock, then he took it in his hand, and straddled his Master, facing him. He concentrated for a moment on opening his body, then slid the cock into position against his entrance, before impaling himself on the hard length, allowing it into his body, sliding down on it all the way until it fit snugly inside him. He stopped, the sweat still running down his face, his own cock hard, and neglected. Skinner grabbed his hips.

 

"Hard - and fast," he ordered, and Mulder began to rock, rhythmically, taking his Master's penis deep into his ass, then sliding back up the solid shaft, up and down, over and over again. He flung back his head, his adam's apple bobbing in time to his moans.

 

"Good boy…" Skinner murmured. "Oh, that's good…keep going, boy…" His hands stroked Mulder's thighs, and his body moved up urgently to meet his slave's movements. At the moment he was on the verge of coming, Skinner suddenly wrapped his hand around Mulder's cock. Mulder felt his rectal muscles go into immediate spasm, and that was enough to finish his Master off. He came with a shuddering sigh of satisfaction, and then continued pumping Mulder's cock.

 

"How long can you hold on?" Skinner grinned, sliding his hand along his slave's hard shaft, milking it.

 

"Not much longer when you do that, Master…unnnhhh!" Mulder screamed in pleasure, and need, his body protesting that he couldn't hold on any more, his mind, and his Master, insisting that he had to.

 

"Do you want to feel my crop on your ass, slave?" Skinner asked. "If you come, you will."

 

"Please, Master…don't…I can't…" Mulder begged helplessly. He could feel Skinner's cock softening inside his body, even as his Master's hand pumped up and down his own hard cock. "It's not fair…" Mulder whimpered, his body limp, wrung out with effort. "How can I hold on…if you're going to do that…?" he accused.

 

"You'll have to learn. Think of something else," Skinner grinned, still continuing his caress. "Come and I'll punish you."

 

Mulder tried to think about work, about wading through sewers, and running through forests being chased by monsters. In desperation he even thought about AD Kersh, but nothing worked. He could still smell his Master's earthy scent, see his half-naked body, feel him inside his ass…

 

"Come!" Skinner said the word at the very moment Mulder was unable to hold on, and he pumped out onto his Master's chest. Then he looked down on the semen apologetically.

 

"Sorry, Master."

 

"For what? You came on order. That's good." Skinner grinned. "Now go and turn the shower on - I think it's time we got moving. We have a busy day ahead of us." He glanced at the clock, which read 8:30. "We won't do your normal morning discipline today. We have some unfinished business to take care of anyway," Skinner commented. "That will suffice."

 

Mulder stopped in mid-stride, his heart suddenly sinking like a lead balloon as he remembered what would take place today.

 

"Fox?" He heard Skinner got out of the bed behind him but his legs wouldn't move.

 

"I forgot." Mulder hung his head, his whole body trembling. "About the whip. I forgot about it."

 

"You had what you wanted, sweetheart," Skinner said gently. He put a hand under his slave's chin, and lifted his face to look into his eyes. "It was your choice. You do have to be punished."

 

"I know, but not the bullwhip, Master. Please." Mulder got down on his hands and knees, and kissed Skinner's feet. Last night it had all seemed so different. Last night, he had been so focused on what he wanted, that he had been prepared to pay any price to attain it. Today, in the hard light of day, he wasn't so sure of himself.

 

"I promised the bullwhip, so the bullwhip is what you'll get," Skinner told him firmly, pulling him to his feet. "What kind of Master would I be if I didn't keep my promises?"

 

Mulder swallowed hard. "A compassionate, kind, and sympathetic Master?" he asked hopefully.

 

Skinner laughed out loud. "No - a bad Master," he said, aiming a swat at Mulder's ass. Mulder hopped into the shower to avoid it.

 

"I want you to think about this in relation to your life, Fox," Skinner told him seriously, as his slave washed him.

 

"What do you mean?" Mulder frowned.

 

"Well, how many times have you pursued something, and regretted it later?" Skinner's eyes were dark, and intense. "Do you weigh the risks and possible outcomes, Fox, or do you ignore them? You always assume that you can deal with the pain of the consequences - but one day, that might not be the case."

 

"Today?" Mulder hardly dared ask.

 

"If not today, then one day."

 

Skinner took hold of his slave's shoulders and pushed him against the cool, tiled wall of the shower. Mulder tensed, uncertain what was coming next, but Skinner didn't hurt him. He just lowered his head, and kissed his slave's wet lips, pinning him against the wall with his large body, keeping him upright with his hands, as his mouth plundered his slave's. When the kiss was over, he kept his slave standing there, and looked at him with that serious, dark-eyed gaze. "Your actions, and your decisions, always have consequences - both for you and the people around you. Remember that, Fox," he advised, and his tone was a world away from the deep, throaty, sexy growl that Mulder loved so much. It was firm, but curiously vulnerable, and for the first time Mulder saw himself as others must see him: running headlong into trouble, risking his life in pursuit of his quest…and hurting those who cared about him.

 

"I don't know that I can change," he said.

 

Skinner sighed. "You don't have to. I don't want you to," he said. "I just want you to make some better decisions than you have in the past."

 

"Choosing to sleep with you last night wasn't a bad decision," Mulder declared angrily, pushing his Master away. Skinner caught hold of his arms, and pinned them behind him, placing him roughly back into position.

 

"You haven't felt the kiss of my whip on your back yet, boy," he replied.

 

"I don't care." Mulder assumed an air of bravado that he didn't feel. "It was still worth it."

 

"Maybe this time," Skinner warned, his brown eyes seeming almost black, as if in despair, or grief. "Maybe not next time. One day, you might pay the ultimate price for a poor choice. If you don't care about your own life, think about the others who do care."

 

Mulder stared at him for a moment, unable to reconcile this side of his Master with the man who had been training him all week. He bit on his lip. All eroticism had gone from the situation. Skinner was taking him back to reality - and he didn't like it one bit.

 

Mulder went about his tasks in silence - washing his Master, then drying him, but inside he was scared. Scared of his decision, scared of the newly revealed depths of his Master's emotions, and most of all, scared of that damned whip. He'd seen enough flogging scenes, in enough movies, to be seriously worried about it. Skinner had said they were going shopping today. How the hell was he going to manage that when the flesh was about to be torn from his bones?

 

Mulder dressed Skinner in a pair of stone colored chinos, and a white henley, then towel dried his own hair.

 

"Time to take care of business," Skinner said grimly.

 

He opened the bedroom door, and gestured his slave through it. Mulder walked slowly, as if going to his execution. His legs felt like lead as he climbed the stairs to the Playroom. He knelt without even thinking about it, when Skinner clicked his fingers, and watched as Skinner made the room ready. His Master got out the bullwhip and laid it on the table, and then he pulled out some cuffs, and fastened them on his slave's wrists.

 

"We'll use the whipping post," he told Mulder gravely. Mulder's throat was so dry he wasn't even sure that his mumbled "Yes, Master" was audible. "Before we begin - what are you being punished for, and what lesson will you take from your correction?" Skinner demanded.

 

"I'm being punished for…" Mulder closed his eyes, and thought back. It had only been last night, but so much had happened since that it seemed like a lifetime away. "For hitting a guest, Master?" he offered, his entire body flushing as he remembered the altercation with Lee.

 

"What else?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder swallowed. "Disobedience." He hung his head.

 

"All right - that's part of what you did wrong last night, but it's not what I'm really getting at here. What else?" Skinner demanded. Mulder sat back on his heels and thought about it, but he couldn't make his brain work while that bullwhip was sitting there, waiting for him.

 

"Jealousy?" he offered at last. He looked up in surprise as Skinner tapped his head.

 

"No. I would never punish you for an emotion. I can't dictate what you feel," Skinner told him firmly. "And I wouldn't want to. The crux of what you did wrong last night is the problem you have all the way along the line - the problem we keep coming back to. Now, what is it?"

Realization flooded through Mulder. "Honesty, Master," he sighed. "I should have come to you, instead of, uh, losing it like that."

 

"Yes - you should. Look, Fox, I don't need you to come running to Master every time you have a problem, but I placed you in deep submission last night. That made you vulnerable, and removed the normal weapons you would have had for dealing with an obnoxious little shit like Lee. It's my duty - my responsibility - to take good care of you while you're in that state. I can't do that if you don't follow my orders, and tell me if there are any problems."

 

"No, Master." Mulder bit on his lip.

 

"Are you ever going to learn this lesson?" Skinner shook his head wryly, and fondled his slave's hair. Mulder leaned into the caress eagerly.

 

"I hope so, Master," he said with a shrug.

 

"Do more than hope, slave." Skinner took firm hold of his shoulders, and looked down into his eyes. "Try harder," he ordered. Mulder nodded, awe-struck. "Honesty goes hand in hand with trust," Skinner continued. "You have issues there as well."

 

"Yeah. I know," Mulder agreed. "I will try harder. I promise."

 

"Good. Go and stand by the whipping post." Skinner turned away, and picked up the whip. When he turned back, Mulder was still frozen to the spot. "I believe I gave you an order, Fox," Skinner said firmly. Mulder licked his lips. "There won't be any reprieve - no last minute cavalry riding over the hill to rescue you. This is real life. Today my whip - tomorrow maybe someone's gun. All consequences of your actions, and your choices. Now get up, and go over to the post."

 

Skinner's tone wasn't harsh, but it was firm. Mulder knew there was only one way out of this. He got to his feet, shakily, and walked over to the post. Skinner followed him, and strapped the cuffs onto his trembling slave, checking them in his usual thorough way. Mulder clamped his mouth shut, and tried to still his nerves, wishing that Skinner would just get on with it. He wondered how good Skinner's first aid was, and how much blood the whip would draw. He remembered the way it had sliced through paper last night, and his flesh crawled as he thought of it doing the same thing to his own tender skin.

 

Skinner moved away, pacing his steps with precision as he went. Mulder tensed. The whip cracked in mid-air as his Master did a little practice, and then Skinner turned to face his slave's naked back and buttocks which were ready and waiting to receive the kisses of their Master's lash. Mulder was determined to show Skinner that he didn't regret his decision, but all the same, he was sure he would pass out during those few seconds waiting for the whip to fall. He clenched his fists tight, and offered up a prayer to any deity that was listening. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, the noise so loud that he felt sure it was echoing around the room. He had memory of a dozen different hurts. Of gunshot wounds, of his finger being broken, and he had taken each and every pain, defiantly, faced up to them, and endured, but this was so different. To go willingly into this dark arena was so much harder than to have it happen to you, without your collusion. Mulder hung his head, and wondered at the darkness of his own soul, that he was offering himself up like this, to be flayed alive.

 

There was silence behind him, then a sudden rush of movement, and Mulder cried out the minute he heard the whip crack, his over-anxious body convulsing in his bonds, but he felt no pain until a split second later, when the burning lash caressed his skin. He clung to the post, yelling his head off, more in anticipation of pain than any real sensation of it.

 

"Hush, little one." Skinner's voice, close to his ear. He felt his Master's hands on his body, soothing him. "Think, Fox. How much did it hurt?" Mulder calmed down as his Master's fingers continued with their stroking. He started to relax. It had hurt, but now that Skinner mentioned it, it wasn't as bad as he had expected. "All right?" Skinner's lips nuzzled the back of his neck. "All right, little one." His Master's big body was folded around his back, warm and reassuring. Mulder put his head back, rested it on his Master's shoulder, and nodded.

 

"Yes, Master," he whispered.

 

"You can take more, sweetheart, can't you?" Skinner's hands were so comforting on his naked flesh, gently rubbing little circles on his skin.

 

"No." Mulder said, automatically and emphatically.

 

"The truth," Skinner whispered, his voice tickling Mulder's ear.

 

Mulder was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "Yes, Master," he agreed. "I can take more."

 

"Good boy - my brave Fox." Skinner pulled his slave's head back, and kissed his lips, gently parting them. He gave Mulder the sweetest, most loving kiss, and then gently pushed him back against the post.

 

Mulder gave a whimper when his Master walked away again, and paced back to his former position. He closed his eyes, and his whole body flinched when he heard that terrible cracking sound, but this time he was dimly aware that the whip didn't actually touch his body until a split second after it made that sound. It hurt! It was a quick, flashing, bite of pain that stung deep into his flesh. There was a pause, and then another crack, and he felt the lash land on his shoulder - adjacent to the other two licks. Then Skinner was at his side again, unlocking the cuffs from the post. Mulder fell on the floor at his Master's feet.

 

"Am I bleeding, Master?" he whispered.

 

Skinner laughed, picked him up, and held him tight against his chest. "I didn't break the skin, sweetheart!" he exclaimed. "Did you think I'd want my slave scarred?" He pushed Mulder back and looked into his eyes.

 

"I don't know," Mulder mumbled.

 

"Come with me." Skinner led him over to the mirror, and showed him his back. There were three distinct red welts on his shoulders, but they weren't any worse than those on his butt, and they were a damn sight smaller.

 

"How…?" Mulder looked up at his Master, mouthing the word soundlessly.

 

"The crack isn't the sound of whip on flesh," Skinner told him, holding him close, and soothing his hair gently. "The whip hits the floor first - that takes most of the power out of the stroke. If I hit the skin direct, then you wouldn't have any skin left, little one. I paced my position to ensure that only the very tip of the whip touched you at all. What you felt was the last inch of it - that's how long the welts are. You were more scared of what you thought it would be, than what it actually was. I can do worse than this with it, little one, but as we have a busy day planned, I had no intention of giving you any more than that. Three strokes didn't do you any harm - I think your anticipation was more punishment than the lash, yes?" He tipped Mulder's chin up.

 

"You bastard," Mulder muttered. "You let me think…?"

 

"What you think, and what you feel, are two entirely different matters," Skinner told him tersely, unbuckling his cuffs. "Using language and anticipation to keep you on edge is a trick I've been using on you since you arrived. You're smart, Fox. You must have figured that out."

 

Mulder closed his eyes. He remembered the first time Skinner had entered him. His Master had talked about being rough, and fast, as he thrust into his slave, but in actuality he had gone slowly, and carefully. When he talked of 'using' his slave, it was a turn on to Mulder. It helped create the submissive head-space that he enjoyed so much.

 

"And as for being called a bastard," Skinner sighed, and without warning placed his foot on a shelf in the cupboard, and tipped Mulder over his knee, then he applied half a dozen stinging swats to his slave's upturned butt with his hand. "Don’t do that again. It really pisses me off." He righted Mulder, who immediately went down on his knees, and kissed his Master's feet.

 

"Sorry, Master." He made a face. "It's just…nobody's ever got into my head and freaked me out like that before. Let's just say I'm not use to being played so well."

 

"Fox." Skinner lifted his chin, and looked down on him. "You're the only one playing a game," he warned. "I'm deadly serious. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better it'll be for you. Now, go and get dressed."

 

"Dressed?" Mulder repeated blankly.

 

"Yeah - unless you want me to walk you down the street on the end of your lead stark naked."

 

"Uh, no." Mulder got to his feet.

 

"Fox - take another shower first - you got all sweaty just now. And Fox?" Mulder paused, his hand on the door. "You'll wear briefs, blue jeans, and that navy blue sweatshirt. Timberlands on your feet."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded. It felt weird to have his choice of clothing dictated to him, but not as weird as the thought of actually being dressed after days of nudity. He ran along to corridor to his room, feeling curiously elated by the prospect of the shopping trip. Usually he hated shopping for clothes, and only did it twice a year in a frenzy of activity, desperate to get the whole event over and done with as quickly as possible so he could get back out chasing UFO's as soon as possible.

 

Mulder's bedroom door was ajar. He crashed through it, and came to a skidding halt. Wanda was sitting on his bed, viewing the contents of his fish tank with a predatory eye. She must have slipped through the door to the upstairs apartment, which was usually kept shut.

 

"You - out!" he ordered.

 

She gazed at him with the disdain of one not used to acknowledging commands.

 

"I said, out," he repeated, picking her up, and looking into her haughty green eyes. "It's a fish tank - not cat TV," he told her firmly.

 

She glared at him, and he opened the door and put her down smartly on the floor outside his bedroom. "Don't make me tell you the story about the enormous cat-eating mutant fish that wiped out every feline within a 5 mile radius of a small lake in Minnesota," he told her. She put her head on one side, and began washing her ears with an air of studied disinterest. "It's true - I have an X File on it at the office. I'll bring it home and read it to you if you're not careful," he said, then looked up into his Master's questioning brown eyes, and one raised eyebrow.

 

"I was just, um…oh fuck," Mulder sighed.

 

"Clothes, Fox. Now. You have ten minutes - there'll be one stroke with the paddle for every second you go over that time." Skinner clapped his hands. "Daylight's burning, slave."

 

It felt strange to be wearing clothes. Mulder trotted down the stairs 9 minutes 57 seconds later, feeling decidedly weird. Having clothes transformed him immediately from Fox, slaveboy, into Mulder. Skinner, wearing a smart jacket, was already waiting for him by the door, checking through the contents of his wallet. He looked up when his slave came down the stairs, and assessed him for a moment, then clicked his fingers. Mulder stared at him, then suddenly remembered that, clothes or no clothes, he was still Skinner's slave. He got down on his knees.

 

"A bit slow," Skinner tapped his head reprovingly. "All right - this is your first trip out with me in public since you became my property, and that's going to be difficult for you. I want you to remember one thing - you're my slave. Clothed or naked, in public or in private, at work or at home, you're mine. That's the bottom line. If you keep it in mind at all times, you'll do fine. If not…vell, ve haf ways of reminding you," he grinned, affecting a silly accent. Mulder sighed. His Master was clearly in one of his jocular moods. That didn't bode well for the outing. "You're not in deep submission, and I don't expect you to walk to heel. I don't think it'd be very smart to address me as 'Master' out there either. You can call me 'sir'. You should be used to that - you've been doing it for years after all. Do you have any questions or anxieties?"

 

"No, Mast…sir," Mulder replied.

 

"Good - then let's go." Skinner opened the door, and Mulder leaped to his feet and ran out, like an eager little puppy being taken on a walk. Skinner laughed, and shook his head.

 

Skinner didn't take his slave to the mall as Mulder had expected. Instead he drove him to an exclusive establishment of the kind Mulder never even knew existed before. A tall, silver-haired gentleman in his fifties greeted Skinner with a warm handshake.

 

"Walter - on time as usual." The man had a smooth, cultured voice, and an elegant manner. He was dressed impeccably in a silver-gray suit, with a pink tie and matching handkerchief. He looked exquisite. His young assistant hovered behind him, shadowing every move his boss made. He was about 25 years younger than the silver haired man, with floppy blond hair, and the bluest eyes Mulder had ever seen.

 

"Elliott." Skinner shook the older man's hand warmly, and then waved a hand in Mulder's direction. "This is Fox. He needs a couple of new work suits, a wide variety of casual clothes, and some tasteful," he stressed the word with a meaningful glance at his slave, "underwear." Mulder remembered the imaginative and assorted array of Star Wars, and Bart Simpson boxer shorts his Master had thrown out forcefully on his first day in his service. "In addition, I'd be grateful if you'd show him your tie collection." Skinner winced, and Mulder rolled his eyes. His ties weren't that bad. "Basically, his clothing tastes need…re-educating," Skinner said ominously.

 

"Dear me, yes." Elliott fixed Mulder with a disapproving stare, taking in his jeans and crumpled sweatshirt. Mulder was suddenly aware of looking so much less elegant than his neatly dressed Master, and he felt resentful. He was only wearing what Skinner had told him to wear. Of course, when he thought about it, he didn't actually own any elegant, understated clothes of the kind Skinner was wearing, but even so - he still felt aggrieved.

 

"It would be a pleasure to help this young man, Walter," Elliott mused, ushering them over to a set of comfortable armchairs. Mulder was starting to feel like Julia Roberts to Skinner's Richard Gere in that scene from Pretty Woman. It wasn't a good feeling.

 

Elliott's assistant seemed to share his boss's opinion on Mulder's lack of sartorial elegance. He fixed Mulder with an appraising stare that made the agent's hot temper rise. The younger man's blue eyes traveled the entire length of Mulder's casually dressed body, examining his ruffled, towel-dried hair, and faintly stubbled chin with a supercilious air.

 

"Donald, please fetch coffee for our guests." Elliott waved his hand, and his assistant gave Mulder a smug smile, then disappeared.

 

Mulder glanced around, bored, while Elliott and his Master made small talk. Jeez, this was dull. He felt like he had as a kid when his Mom took him out shoe shopping. His busy mind needed distraction, and stimulation, and shopping just didn't do it for him. Of all the Masters in all the world, he had to get landed with the one who had some weird fascination with fashion of all things. I mean, what the hell did it matter what clothes Mulder wore, when it was his slave's naked body his Master was interested in? Mulder smirked to himself, enjoying that thought. His Master did seem very interested in his body. He flushed when he remembered being 'played' with this morning. Boy, that had been good. He could feel himself going hard just thinking about it.

 

"….Fox?" Skinner was looking at him expectantly but Mulder didn't have a clue what he'd said.

 

"What? I wasn't listening," he admitted. Skinner fixed him with a frown, and Mulder's stomach did a flip. "Sorry, sir," he added contritely.

 

"Pay attention, Fox. I don't expect to have to say things twice," Skinner reprimanded. He placed one hand on the back of Mulder's neck and squeezed lightly, making his intent clear. Mulder swallowed nervously. Donald had reappeared with the coffee, and he caught this exchange, doing a double take. Mulder flushed to the roots of his dark hair. Shit, they all thought Skinner was his sugar daddy, taking him out, buying him clothes, like he was some stupid 18 year old, bimbo toyboy. It was so damn embarrassing. And isn't the truth even worse, slaveboy? A mocking internal voice asked him. He felt a sullen mood start to settle around him like a storm cloud.

 

"I was saying that you'll be a regular visitor here from now on. You'll collect items for me, as well as for yourself. I have an account here," Skinner informed him.

 

"Yeah. I'd kind of figured that out," Mulder muttered, thinking that the whole place was incredibly camp, from Donald's prima donna body language, to Elliott's exquisitely coiffured hair, and pink tie. I mean pink for chrissakes!

 

"If you'd like to go with Donald, he'll measure you. We'll keep your measurements on file, as we do for Walter," Elliott informed him. "That way when you need any new suits…"

 

"I don't," Mulder snapped. "What's wrong with my suits?" He turned to Skinner.

 

"Nothing," Skinner replied, urbanely, his dark eyes belying his casual manner, as they bored holes into Mulder's soul, warning him. "Maybe it's the way you wear them but they do have a tendency to look a bit…crumpled. However, you can clearly do with some spares - especially considering all the wear your clothing gets, running through forests, falling into swamps, stepping in burning piles of green goo…need I go on?"

 

"No. I think you've made your point," Mulder muttered sulkily. Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Sir." Mulder added, after thinking about it for a few seconds.

 

"Good - get moving." Skinner nodded his head in the direction of a curtained recess, and Mulder couldn't quite manage to stop the cross between a growl and a sigh that emerged from his throat.

 

Donald's superior air got on Mulder's nerves even before the other man started measuring him.

 

"If sir would like to undress." Donald pursed his lips, investing the 'sir' with a tone that implied profound disrespect. He's so obviously gay, Mulder thought to himself, as he peeled off his sweatshirt and started tugging at his jeans. As opposed to me. I mean, I'm just a regular guy who likes being screwed by my, big, strong, macho Master- come-boss. Huge difference, asshole. His brain chuntered along at top speed as he stripped down to his briefs. Donald took in the sight of his nipple rings without comment, but Mulder caught his expression, and wanted to land a good right hook on the other man's baby pink skin. He knew just what Donald was thinking, and how he was laughing at him. He turned away, to avoid the other man's smug stare. Donald took a sharp intake of breath and Mulder remembered, too late, the three welts on his back. He swung back in time to see the other man's expression of shock, before it was replaced by that polite, supercilious mask. Mulder was suffused by a wave of intense embarrassment. He was about to make up some story to explain the welts away, but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't just draw attention to them, and make the whole thing even worse. If Donald had been in any doubt about his relationship with Skinner before, then he wasn't now. Mulder opened his mouth, and found himself saying:

 

"So, Don-baby, do you prefer to be called Donny as in Osmond, or Donald as in f…duck?"

 

Donald stared at him for a moment, then smoothed a hand nervously through his floppy hair. "Donald," he replied politely. "Now if sir would…"

 

"Oh cut all this 'sir' crap," Mulder snarled. "You've made it clear as hell that you think I'm something you walked in on the street."

 

"Please, sir, I just need to take your measurements." Donald pressed the tape against Mulder's leg, and hurried through his task. Mulder felt his whole body flush, from the tips of his toes to his forehead. Hah, if Donald was intrigued by the welts on his back, he should see the ones on his butt. Oh shit. Mulder remembered that Skinner wanted him to buy underwear. It would be just his luck if his Master made him try it on for his approval. He fidgeted throughout the measuring process, then waited in sullen silence as Donald slipped back into the other room. Fuck. This whole shopping trip was his idea of hell, and he hated his Master for putting him through it.

 

Donald returned a few seconds later, his baby blue eyes full of some emotion Mulder read as barely suppressed amusement. Blondie was laughing at him.

 

"Your…um…" Donald hesitated, clearly unsure how to refer to Skinner.

 

"Master?" Mulder supplied, knowing he was behaving badly, some devil in him wanting to make it worse, trying deliberately to shock. Donald paled.

 

"Um…that is, Walter, Mr. Skinner, uh, he said to try these on," Donald murmured weakly.

 

Mulder snatched the beige trousers and shirt savagely from the other man's grasp, and pulled them on, then glanced in the mirror. Damn, he looked stupid!

 

"Oh, that looks good. It suits you, sir," Donald said encouragingly. Mulder quelled his enthusiasm with a glance, and marched out into the other room.

 

"These, are crap," he announced to his Master. "I'm not wearing them."

 

Skinner looked at him coolly. "I think the shirt would benefit from being buttoned up properly, and tucked into the pants," he observed. "Go back, and straighten yourself out, then come back out here, and present yourself properly."

 

Mulder saw Donald out of the corner of his eye. The man was wide-eyed, his gaze going from slave to Master, and back again, and then flickering over to Elliott. Mulder felt a heat rising from deep within. He knew that the minute they left, these two ghouls would laugh their heads off. Mulder stomped off back to the changing room, and obeyed his Master, feeling his temper spiral out of control. He hated the beige shirt and pants. He'd never, ever wear clothes like this. Scully would laugh at him. Scully. Mulder felt a pang as he thought about his partner. This was the first time since he met her that he'd gone more than a couple of days without even seeing or speaking to her, except for when she had been abducted. He felt guilty about the fact that, much as he loved and cared about his diminutive partner, he hadn't thought about her all week.

 

He rearranged his clothes, and stepped back outside. Skinner was deep in conversation with Donald, and the young man's blue eyes were fixed on his Master in an expression of barely concealed awe.

 

"While you're here, you might as well have a fitting for that new suit, Walter," Elliott was saying. Donald nodded eagerly. Can't wait to get his hands on him, I expect, Mulder thought angrily.

 

"Not today." Skinner shook his head. "Today is for Fox. Another time."

 

"Yeah, right. Like you really give a damn about doing anything other than showing off what a complete fucking wuss I am!" Mulder exploded. "How does this look?" he asked, doing an ironic twirl. "What am I? Some kind of fucking performing monkey for these goddamn clowns?"

 

There was a shocked silence, then Skinner turned smoothly to Elliott, and Donald, and smiled through gritted teeth. "My apologies. Please, would you give us a couple of minutes alone?"

 

"Of course." Elliott quickly ushered his young protégé out of the room. Mulder was sure he could hear them sniggering as they went. That thought was driven out of his head by his more immediate awareness of imminent danger. He swallowed nervously as he realized that he was in deep shit right up to his eyeballs. He saw a big shadow looming over him and bit on his lip, then looked up defiantly into his Master's dark eyes, but Skinner's expression was puzzled, rather than angry.

 

"Fox." Skinner put his hands on his slave's shoulders. "I thought you looked pretty damn good in this actually." His fingers smoothed along the silky fabric. "Of course, if you don't like it, we won't buy it. I don't want to change your tastes - I'm sure there'll be things we can both agree on."

 

"I wouldn't wear anything like this and you fucking know it," Mulder snarled.

 

"Well, maybe you need to have your horizons broadened?" Skinner suggested mildly. "Now, tell me, what brought this on, sweetheart?"

 

"They think we're sleeping together," Mulder blurted.

 

"Hmm. We are," Skinner pointed out. "Why is this a problem?"

 

"What I am. What I like…it's private," Mulder whispered.

 

"It wasn't last night," Skinner told him, his hands continuing to rub his slave's shoulders. "Last night I displayed you naked in a room full of people. I told them you were my slave, and I your Master, and you loved it."

 

"That was different!" Mulder protested. "That was us, in private, with people who understand. This is…"

 

"Public? Fox, I've known Elliott for years. His very name is a byword for discretion, and he wouldn't employ anybody who didn't abide by his rules on this. Whatever happens here won't go beyond these four walls."

 

"But…"

 

"You're ashamed." Skinner lifted Mulder's head, and looked into his eyes. "You're ashamed of what you are, little one. Why? There's no need to be. I love what you are, and at the end of the day, pleasing me is the only thing that should matter to you."

 

"He's laughing at me. He thinks I'm weak." Mulder muttered, trying to hold onto his outrage in the face of his Master's kindness, and failing.

 

"Who? Elliott? Of course he doesn't…"

 

"Not Elliott - Donald stupid duckface."

 

"Fox - he's not laughing at you, and even if he were, it's irrelevant. What's important is that you focus on me, not anyone else, and not on your own fears."

 

"Okay, okay. I know he's just a stupid tailor's assistant, but what will happen when someone important finds out?" Mulder snarled. "What will Scully think?" he asked in a broken voice.

 

"Ah." Skinner rocked back on his heels. "That's what's behind this."

 

"I suppose." Mulder wrapped his arms around his body, and hugged himself.

 

"Well, Scully's your partner, and a damn good friend. Why don't you trust her not to judge you?" Skinner asked.

 

"Because. Because…"

 

"You judge yourself so harshly that you think that everyone else will too? And you're always scared of love being withdrawn? Isn't that why you try not to let anyone get close in the first place?" Skinner asked, moving in close, his eyes searching.

 

"I…damn you for knowing me like this," Mulder whispered, feeling as if he'd been hit in the stomach.

 

"Fox - you're mine. I need to know you. I've been studying you for a long time. I understand you, sweetheart. I can help you, but you have to learn to trust: me, Scully, and most of all - yourself." Skinner's eyes were dark in their intensity.

 

"Oh shit." Mulder clenched his fists, and then thumped one angrily against the wall, his whole body suffused with self-loathing. "You're thinking what a fucking screw-up I am. The first time you take me anywhere, and I fuck it up. I won't be able to handle this in the real world, sir. I can't do it. When we get back to work…"

 

"It'll be tough." Skinner shrugged. "We both know that. However, you're only human, Fox. When you screw up I'll punish you, and you'll learn. Then we can go forward. I don't expect you to adapt without any problems. It'll take time. We have plenty of that. You've given me the rest of your life."

 

"A life sentence, huh?" Mulder made a face.

 

"If you like. Let's hope it's a long and happy one, for both of us." Skinner smiled, and pulled his tense slave into an embrace. Mulder stiffened, then finally relaxed into his Master's arms, and buried his face in his shoulder. "Now, I'm going to punish you," Skinner whispered tenderly into his ear. "You deserve that, Fox, don't you?"

 

Mulder couldn't disagree on that point. "Here, Master?" Mulder looked up, his eyes wide and alarmed.

 

"Yes. That way we can put this incident behind us, and you can stop wallowing in the guilt trip. Take off your pants, Fox, and your briefs, and bend over the armchair."

 

"Master, please…not here." Mulder glanced at the door, nervously. For all he knew, Elliott and Donald were lurking just outside. He couldn't stand the thought of them hearing every last scream.

 

"Here. Now." Skinner said firmly. "Then it'll be over, and we can start again," he promised. He gentled his slave, soothed him, ruffled through his hair, and caressed up and down his back.

 

Mulder swallowed hard, then nodded, and did as he was told. He leaned over the armchair with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Then he watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Skinner undid his belt. There was a familiar swish as the belt was pulled through the loops on Skinner's pants, and then his Master doubled the leather, and slapped it against his hand a few times. Mulder closed his eyes. He felt the cool leather against his buttocks, and then it thwacked down hard on his bare butt.

 

"What's the lesson you're learning from this punishment, Fox?" Skinner asked.

 

"Shit!" Mulder buried his head in his arms, as another lick flashed down on his ass. "To…be polite, not to care what other people think…oh shit, sir, I don't know!"

 

"All right." Skinner's hand stroked his back, calming him, and he paused the strapping. "I think it goes back to the issue of trust, and honesty. If you'd spoken to me about the way you were feeling before you exploded, we could have avoided this. Yes?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder agreed.

 

"Like last night. Yes?"

 

"Yes." Mulder sighed.

 

"Good. Keep that in mind then. I'm going to make this count." Skinner swung the strap again, delivering a good dozen licks to Mulder's butt. Mulder tried his best not to scream, but it damn well hurt, and he yelped out loud on more than one occasion. Then it was over. Skinner stopped, and ran a hand through his slave's tousled hair. "Up you get, sweetheart. This incident is over - or it will be just as soon as you've apologized to Elliott and Donald."

 

"Yes, sir," Mulder mumbled contritely. Somehow he had just known that Skinner was going to insist on that. His Master had some kind of manners fetish.

 

"Ready for that?" Skinner asked, placing a big arm around his slave's shoulder. Mulder heaved a huge sigh, and pulled himself back together.

 

"Yes, sir," he agreed at last.

 

"Good. Later on we'll go to a very expensive French restaurant I know," Skinner grinned. "I want to spoil my beautiful slave after all. Fine clothes, good food, wine." Mulder managed a wan smile, then he donned the hated beige pants again, and stood, head down, as Skinner strode over to the door and disappeared. He reappeared a few seconds later with Elliott and Donald in tow. Mulder took a deep breath, and stood up straight, the Mulder charm kicking in.

 

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you just now," he said, smiling at them. "It won't happen again."

 

"That's all right, Fox. Let's start over, shall we?" Elliott beamed.

 

Mulder nodded, relieved. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and decided he liked what he saw. "These clothes aren't bad. Can we have them?" he asked Skinner.

 

His Master grinned at him. "Of course, Fox," he nodded.

 

"Next one then?" Mulder disappeared back into the changing room. Donald appeared a few seconds later, with another outfit, and a selection of briefs and boxer shorts. He put them down on the table gingerly, and backed away. He watched as Mulder pulled on another shirt, and then he edged closer, and cautiously began to help Mulder button the shirt.

 

"Did he…?" Donald swallowed hard, and looked around. "What did he do?" he asked, clearly taking his life in his hands. Mulder tried to remember what Skinner had told him. His Master was right. What did he care what this supercilious, baby-faced little brat thought of him?

 

"He whipped my ass with his belt," he replied.

 

Donald's fingers faltered on the buttons, and he closed his eyes. "Oh god," he breathed. "You lucky bastard."

 

Mulder looked at him in surprise. "What?"

 

"I envied you from the minute you walked through the door," Donald confided, continuing to button Mulder's shirt for him with shaking fingers. "I could see the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you…you were so right together, like you belonged to each other, fitting together like a hand in a glove. I wish…I want…that is…it's hard when you work with someone, and they don't even know how you feel…" He glanced towards the other room, his expression wistful.

 

"You mean…Elliott?" Mulder raised an eyebrow.

 

"I worship him," Donald sighed. "But he doesn’t even take any notice of me. Sometimes I pull all kinds of crazy shit just to get his attention. If he'd just once throw me over his knee, and give me a good spanking like Walter did to you, I'd be in heaven," he grinned, and Mulder's jaw dropped open in surprise. "The way I fuck up sometimes, I'm lucky he hasn't fired me," Donald added.

 

"Donald - hang in there, buddy," Mulder grinned. "I think it could all work out for you and Elliott. Trust me - stranger things have happened," he winked. "Shit, I've been an idiot. I thought you were looking down on me, but…"

 

"Hell, no. I'm so jealous I could die," Donald told him melodramatically. "You do know how lucky you are, don’t you? Having someone like that, who cares about you - who cares enough to correct you too?"

 

Mulder sighed, and glanced out into the other room. Skinner was deep in conversation with Elliott. His Master looked so composed, one long leg balanced over the other at a 90 degree angle, his Henley showing off a broad expanse of lean, muscled chest.

 

"Yeah," he told Donald. "I do, buddy. I do."

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Mulder and Skinner emerged with Mulder dressed in a new pair of pants, and a soft, silky green shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, a pair of expensive Italian loafers on his feet.

 

"I'm starving," Skinner grinned.

 

"Time to check out that very expensive restaurant then?" Mulder suggested, a gleam in his eye.

 

"Oh yeah. I think so."

 

The restaurant was so classy it was untrue, and Skinner was clearly a regular, and honored guest as the maitre d' fussed over him, and called him by his first name.

 

"Where the hell did you get all this money?" Mulder asked, taking a sip of the most exquisite wine he'd ever tasted.

 

"Well, I work hard, without having much by way of expensive pleasures, until relatively recently at least," Skinner gave an amused little smile. "I've dabbled on Wall Street a bit - nothing much - I'm pretty cautious. Enough to finance more than you'd expect on my salary though," Skinner poured himself some wine, and held up his glass. "To you, Fox," he said, sincerely.

 

"Me?"

 

"Oh yes. My Fox," Skinner told him, his dark eyes twinkling with pride of ownership in the lamplight. "This is our first meal out together - order what you like. I want you to enjoy it."

 

"Thanks." Mulder grinned.

 

It felt weird just sitting, wearing clothes, eating, talking, drinking like normal guys. At first, Mulder wasn't sure he'd know what to say, but Skinner asked him some questions about his work, his life, his hopes, and before long Mulder found himself talking nineteen to the dozen in typical Mulder style. He hopped from subject to subject, making a determined effort to both amuse and entertain his Master, and it seemed to have the desired effect. Skinner was a pretty good conversationalist himself. He talked about his early career in the FBI, which had his slave listening with rapt interest, and before long Mulder forgot all about the Master/slave situation between them, and was firing questions at the other man, pulling his experiences apart, and digesting them. He relished the time and attention he was getting, and the wine loosened his tongue, and relaxed him.

 

He realized, glancing at his watch, that several hours had passed with him barely noticing the passage of time. It came as a shock to discover that he liked Skinner not only as a Master, and lover, but also as a friend - someone to talk to. Mulder had a kind of goofy, geeky friendship with the Lone Gunmen, and a close and unique bond with Scully, but he couldn't remember ever having a male friend he could really talk to; someone to hang out and have a few beers with. Someone he could watch sport with, or talk about politics, history, the X Files, or any subject under the sun. Skinner was quirky, and smart, with his own distinctive views on a myriad of different subjects. Mulder sat and watched his Master run a finger around the rim of his wineglass, transfixed. This was so good. It was better than good. It was perfect.

 

"So, that's what the X Files was like in the bad old days before we got assigned to you," Mulder grinned, finishing an anecdote. "And before Scully made them respectable," he added.

 

"Have you spoken to Scully this week?" Skinner asked.

 

"No." Mulder shrugged. "You told me I wasn't to speak to anyone apart from you."

 

"You have your cell phone though. You could have made calls from your room." Skinner looked at him keenly.

 

"Yes, but I didn't." Mulder shrugged, then he bit on his lip. "The truth is…that I didn't even think about it. All this is so new, I didn't have the head-space to even think about anything else. Scully will wonder what's happened to me."

 

"Call her." Skinner got out his cellphone, and handed it to Mulder. Mulder looked at the other man uncertainly, but Skinner just nodded. Mulder punched in Scully's number, and grinned across the table when she answered.

 

"Yo! Guess who this is?" he said.

 

"Mulder!"

 

His face lit up in delight at the sound of her voice.

 

"Where are you? Who is she?" Scully demanded.

 

"What?" Mulder laughed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Scully?"

 

"Mulder it's been a week! Now I'm assuming it would have been all over the papers if you'd found Bigfoot, or the Loch Ness Monster, or ET, or something, so it has to be a woman."

 

"Not necessarily," Mulder reached over the table, and stroked his Master's hand.

 

"Oh, all right, play it cool!" Scully laughed. "Are you coming back to work on Monday?"

 

"Yeah." Mulder sighed dramatically. "I guess. Did you miss me?"

 

"Of course," Scully replied. "I actually managed to get some work done without being interrupted for once!"

 

He talked to her animatedly for a few more minutes, and agreed to go out for lunch with her on Monday so they could catch up. Then he severed the connection and gave Skinner the phone back, with a grateful smile.

 

"Thanks."

 

Skinner shrugged, and pocketed the phone, then drank some of his coffee. "How was she?" he asked.

 

"Fine." Mulder chatted on for several minutes. He wasn't sure if it was the wine, or the phone call, or just being with his Master, but he felt so high he was in danger of spinning off into orbit. Skinner just listened, tolerant, and indulgent as Mulder rambled on and on. Therefore it came as a total shock, when Skinner leaned across the table, looked him in the eye, and said one word:

 

"Wanda."

 

Mulder tried to process what his Master meant - did they have to get back home because of the cat or something? Then he remembered his word - that word, and he glanced around the restaurant. True, it was late, and most people had gone home, but there were still several diners finishing off their meal. What the hell did his Master want from him? They couldn't - not here, surely…?

 

"Master?" he protested weakly.

 

"Go and wait for me in the men's room - and have a condom ready. I'll be along when I've finished my coffee." Skinner gestured with his head in the direction of the bathroom.

 

"Master? Please," Mulder begged.

 

Skinner fixed him with a severe stare. "Are you questioning me, boy?" he hissed.

 

"No, sir. I'm just…" Mulder glanced around again, scared of being overheard, but even more scared of his Master. "Yes, sir," he said at last, slipping out of his chair.

 

His stomach was churning as he made his way to the men's room. He remembered that he and Phoebe had once made love on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's grave, but that had been in the middle of the night and in the middle of nowhere, damnit! Not in the public restroom of one of the most expensive restaurants in town. All the same, his suddenly hard cock told him that he found the idea a turn-on, even while his mind was yelling at him to get out of there and run. He walked into the men's room, and glanced around, relieved to discover that he was the only occupant. He went into one of the stalls, and fished a condom and the lube out of his pocket. He had remembered that much at least. He took down his pants and briefs, and lubed himself again, then spent a while stretching himself. Skinner had told him quite specifically that he'd enter him without prepping him, and take him hard and fast, in silence. Mulder's cock ached in longing at the very thought of it. There was something so impersonal about it - the fantasy of being overpowered by a stranger, combined with the safety of knowing it was his own Master, who he was learning to trust, and whose body was now so familiar to him. He loved the idea of his body being so comprehensively used by his Master as a vehicle for the other man's lust. It exhilarated and scared him at one and the same time.

 

Mulder stood there for a moment, wondering what to do next. Skinner had been very specific about what was expected of him when he gave him his 'word'. Mulder shivered, his cock arcing to full erection, as he remembered the humiliating position in which he was supposed to present himself to his Master. He wondered if he had enough time to jerk off before his Master came and used him, but dismissed that thought almost immediately. Skinner had told him not to touch his cock, and he was sure his Master would know if he did. Mulder put the lube back in his pocket, and wondered where to put the condom. There was nowhere obvious in the small stall. Finally, scared that his Master would come in and find him unprepared, he placed his hands on the wall behind the toilet, and got into position, butt out, legs wide apart, pants around his ankles, ready and waiting for his Master's attention. Then he reached up and put the condom on his own back, where Skinner wouldn't have any trouble seeing it.

 

He waited in that humiliating position for several minutes - although it felt like hours. He started to get nervous. Finally, he heard the sound of the main restroom door being opened, and he took a deep breath. The stall door was closed, although it wasn't locked, and that just made Mulder even more twitchy. Supposing this wasn't Skinner? Supposing someone else came in? Then he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the main door, and he realized, without surprise, that Skinner had borrowed the key off his friend, the Maitre d'.

 

The stall door behind him was suddenly flung open, and he had to resist turning around to make sure it was his Master, and not a stranger. His cock almost went into spasm at the eroticism of the moment, of being found here, ass in the air, waiting to serve his Master. He took a deep gulp of air, trying to clear his head. He felt hands caressing his butt, and then the sound of the condom being torn open, and something hard nudging his anus. He placed his hands on his ass, spreading the butt cheeks to make it easier for his Master to enter him, and sighed as he felt the familiar, hard length of Skinner's cock slide into his lubed passage. He placed his hands back on the wall to steady himself, and stood bent over, moaning as his Master began to move his hips.

 

Skinner was true to his word: he grabbed Mulder's thighs, and buried himself deep in his body, sinking himself in, back and forward, in a series of hard, jerky thrusts that made his slave pant. It was, quick, perfunctory, and to the point, and the most devastating display yet of his Master's power of him. Mulder struggled to keep his hands on the wall, as his Master's cock devoured him, then suddenly it was over. He felt the shudder of Skinner's climax, then his Master withdrew. Mulder got up, and turned around, suddenly feeling an urge to make sure that it was his Master who had just taken him, and not a stranger. He found himself looking into Skinner's dark, amused eyes. Skinner removed the condom, threw it into the toilet, and flushed it, then adjusted his clothing, and left the stall without a word. Mulder watched him go, his heart beating fast in his chest. It had been everything Skinner had promised, and more. It had pulled him back down to the most basic level of his slavery. Mulder marveled at his Master's skill. First he had allowed Mulder to be himself, chatted to him all evening like a friend, and lover, and then he had reminded his slave, in the most clear, and unsubtle way, just who he belonged to at the end of the day.

 

When Mulder went back into the restaurant a few minutes later, his Master was signing the check. He looked up, and smiled as his slave rejoined him.

 

"I'm tired. Time to head for home I think. How about you?"

 

"What?" Mulder tried to drag his head out from the surreal scene they had just enacted. He could hardly believe that Skinner was acting as if it hadn't happened.

 

"Time for bed?" Skinner raised an eyebrow.

 

"Will you do that often?" Mulder asked, ignoring the question.

 

"As often as I want. You're mine. I can use you whenever the urge takes me. Now, you're looking tired. Tomorrow you have to clean the apartment - it's still in a mess after the party, so I suggest we turn in."

 

"Do I…I mean, is there any chance that…?" Mulder faltered, his eyes hopeful.

 

"No, sweetheart. You have to earn a night in my bed. You know that," Skinner told him with an affectionate smile. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that last night wasn't good - it was. However, don’t get into the habit of thinking it'll happen every night."

 

"No, sir," Mulder murmured.

 

He was tired, he realized, as Skinner drove them home. He kept yawning, and staring dreamily into space. He still couldn't believe he was sitting here, in his new clothes, behaving as if nothing strange had happened, when all the time he was owned by the man sitting next to him. He had traded himself for security, and sexual fulfillment, and he didn't regret it at all. Leaning back, he saw the street lamps light his Master's face as they passed beneath each one, illuminating his strong jaw, and bouncing off the large expanse of forehead. Mulder was suffused with a combination of emotions that almost overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He had never been this happy in his life before.

 

When they got back to the apartment, Skinner ordered him up to his room.

 

"We didn't have time for a confessional last night, but I don't want you to get out of the habit. Go and get undressed, and wait for me in your room. I'll be up in a few minutes."

 

Mulder obeyed. He took off his clothes, and hung them neatly in his closet, then knelt by the bed. Skinner appeared on cue, a few minutes later, and sat down. Mulder immediately crawled over to him, and laid his head on the other man's knee. Skinner smiled, and stroked his hair softly.

 

"All right, sweetheart. Say whatever you want to. I won't interrupt, and you won't be punished for anything you want to talk about - including any criticisms of me, and my treatment of you. Just as long as you keep a civil tongue in your head,"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder closed his eyes, and thought for a moment, but he was so tired. Skinner nudged him with his knee. "Okay…I…last night. I'd never had a man, a top make love to me like that. You know, I thought that vanilla sex wouldn't turn me on to be honest. I thought I needed the BDSM stuff to get my kicks, but last night…well, I was turned on! And it was good, it was really good. You're right, about trust, about honesty, about all of it, but don't expect me to give it all up without a fight. I know it's crazy, because it's what I want, but I'll fight it all the way. I'll fight you all the way. You'll have to be strong to tame me, Master, really strong, and I'm scared you'll give up, because it isn't worth the effort. I'm too much work. Shit, I'm rambling…I'm so tired…" Mulder closed his eyes, and zoned out for a moment, then started again. "You can be as strong, and tough, and as much a bastard to me as you like, so long as you don't give up on me. I don't want you to give up on me…" His voice faded into nothing again. "Tired…" he mumbled into Skinner's thigh. His eyes closed, and opened, then closed again, and stayed closed.

 

He was dimly aware of a hand soothing his hair, for several long minutes, then he felt himself being lifted up. He opened his eyes drowsily, then closed them again, and buried his face in his Master's neck. Skinner placed him gently on the bed, then covered him with the sheets. Mulder's head lolled onto the pillow, and he sighed. He felt his Master kiss his lips softly, then he heard the other man walk towards the door. Skinner paused, and turned the light off, and only in the silence, in the anonymity of darkness, and the haze of sleep, could Mulder say the words his waking mind always refused to let him speak:

 

"I love you, Master."

 

 

---

Chapter 10: Master's Day

Mulder thought that the sound of his Master's beating heart was the nicest sound in the world. He lay with his head on Skinner's chest, just listening to that steady thrump sound, his cheek nestled against the warm fuzziness of his Master's chest hair, wondering if life could get any better than this. Skinner was reading his morning newspaper, and sipping his coffee, one hand playing idly with his slave's body as he read. Mulder liked that. He liked the steady stroke of Skinner's fingers across his chest, along the side of his jaw, and through his hair. He especially liked it when his Master gently tickled the rings embedded in his nipples. It hurt just enough to be erotic, but not so much as to make him have to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Skinner had been kind to his slave, allowing him to stay in bed after delivering his customary wake-up call, and holding him in his big arms. Mulder loved mornings such as these. Being allowed to stay close to his Master, warm and safe, just lying nestled against him, was his ultimate goal in life. He thought he might almost swap it for all the erotic pleasures his Master was so expertly skilled in delivering. Almost. They were nice too. He supposed he should make the most of this moment in time. Tomorrow, the specter of work loomed large in both their lives.

 

Mulder wondered what it would be like to leave for work from this apartment block, wearing his work suit. Would he and Skinner travel to work together? His heart leapt as he remembered how damn good his Master looked in his work clothes. How was Mulder going to be able to concentrate on work knowing how much more fantastic his Master looked underneath those crisp white shirts that he had ironed? Would Skinner treat him differently at work now? Would he be more patient with the way Mulder operated, or less? Would he make sexual demands on him in his lunch hour? Mulder's cock told him that whatever he might think about that idea intellectually, sexually he found it a real turn-on.

 

Mulder thought back to when he first sold himself into slavery a little over a week ago. He remembered his mistrust of his new Master, his attempts to manipulate Skinner, his insecurity, insolence, and downright disobedience. He knew the change in himself to be profound. In just over a week his Master had transformed him from manipulative sub into passable slave material. Skinner had certainly been strict with him, but he had also been patient, and loving, and Mulder knew how hard it was to find that combination in any top. More than that, Skinner knew and understood him, in a way that made Mulder feel both safe and trapped at one and the same time. Knowing there was no way out kept him here, kept him from running, but sometimes the impulse was still there. Only you could want to run away from the best thing that's ever happened to you, asshole, his mocking internal voice told him.

 

A familiar, cold fear gripped his heart - supposing he let Skinner down at work? Supposing his Master found him just too much to handle, and gave up on him? Then he'd have to move out, leave this place that already felt like home, with its amazing fantasty Playroom, far behind. Worse than that, he'd have to leave his Master, the one person he had come to rely on almost as much as he relied on himself. Hell, Skinner was legendary on the scene - he wouldn't have any trouble finding a new slave, but Mulder knew he'd never find another Master he could hope to care about the way he cared for Skinner. God knows he had been looking for long enough before Skinner had turned up to claim him. He had a sudden image of someone else sleeping in his Master's arms - another, different slave, and he felt a surge of jealousy. Not for the first time, he wondered who had occupied the slave's quarters in the upstairs apartment before he'd arrived on the scene. Mulder chewed on his lip, lost in the implications of his dark thoughts. He was surprised when Skinner's fingers gently touched his lip, then held up bloodstained evidence of his anxiety.

 

"What was that about?" Skinner asked softly, glancing down on his slave, and wiping away another drop of blood as it welled up in the wound.

 

"Work," Mulder sighed. "I know I'm going over old ground, but I feel like my execution date has been set for tomorrow. Shit, how the hell is this going to work out when we go back to our jobs, sir?"

 

Skinner opened his mouth to reply, but Mulder interrupted him, sitting up in a state of agitation.

 

"I already know the answer. I'm going to screw up big time, you're going to get really mad and dump me, and we're both going to have to deal with the embarrassment of knowing we were once… once…" he came to a floundering halt.

 

"What?" Skinner's dark eyes were cool, assessing, and ever so slightly amused.

 

"Involved?" Mulder finished weakly.

 

"Wrong choice of word." Skinner shook his head, and Mulder had a sudden sensation of imminent danger. "Several wrong choices of word, as a matter of fact. Firstly, there can be no 'once', Fox. I own you. You are my property. There is no time in the future when I will stop owning you, so you can put that idea out of your head. I thought I'd made your status clear to you more than enough over the past week, but I can see that we still need to work on that. Secondly, the only one thing I have given you permission to worry about is pleasing me. There is no possibility that you'll be "dumped" as you put it, so you can forget about that as well. The consequence of screwing up big time, is being punished big time - not being dumped. Understood?"

 

Mulder nodded, reluctantly.

 

"Was there anything else?" Skinner demanded.

 

Mulder thought about it, then blurted out his worries. "What happened to your other slaves, Master? You say that I won't stop being your property, but if that's the case, what happened to them? I don't see them here now. I thought...the same thing could happen to me."

 

Skinner sighed, and Mulder caught a curiously wistful expression in the other man's eyes. "I understand your curiosity, Fox," he said. "However, there are some answers you will have to be patient for, and in the meantime you must accept my assurances that you have nothing to worry about on that score."

 

"I'm not very good at waiting for things to happen," Mulder admitted, kneeling on the bed, gazing at his Master. "I prefer to go out and meet them halfway. I wish tomorrow was here, so I could get on with it."

 

"That would be a shame, because then you'd miss out on today," Skinner observed, with a sly glint in his eye, "and I have plans for today."

 

"What kind of plans?" Mulder didn't know whether to be nervous, or excited, and settled for a combination of both.

 

"All in good time. Now get your butt over here. I'm having that same problem with the Sunday sections of the paper as I had last weekend, and, as I recall, your ass served as a nice newspaper prop - very nice in point of fact!" Skinner chuckled, guiding his slave into position. Mulder sighed, and resigned himself to an hour's duty as inanimate object.

 

"Master," Mulder piped up, half an hour later.

 

"Hmm?" Skinner glanced at him over the top of his paper.

 

"I've been thinking. I mean…that is…"

 

"Yes, Fox." Skinner put the paper down, with the merest hint of a weary sigh, but his eyes were encouraging.

 

"You said to tell you when the marks on my butt faded, Master," Mulder whispered.

 

"Yes, I did." Skinner glanced at the butt in question. "They haven't - not completely, anyway." Mulder knew that the six distinct welts on his backside had faded to the merest hint of a pale pink.

 

"I know. It's just that…I can't even feel them now, and I just thought that…well, by tomorrow, they'll be almost gone."

 

"Yes." Skinner nodded, then waited patiently to see what was coming next.

 

"And…as we're going back to work, I'd like to feel…that is…I want to be reminded of what I am. I think I might forget," Mulder admitted, shamefaced. "You know what I'm like, Master. I get engrossed in what I'm doing…and I'll forget, and…if you…" Mulder took a deep breath. "If you marked me again today, Master, it might help me keep it in mind," Mulder managed to blurt out before all his courage left him.

 

"You're asking for a taste of my cane when it isn't, strictly speaking, necessary?" Skinner raised an eyebrow. Mulder flushed.

 

"I don't like the cane, Master, I'll be honest," he admitted. "I just thought…if, every time I sat down, I was reminded what I am, then I might not do anything really stupid," he finished in a whisper.

 

Skinner looked at him for a long moment that stretched into an eternity. Mulder flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. Finally, Skinner put aside the paper, and took his glasses off. Mulder began to bite on his lip again. He wasn't sure how good Skinner's eyesight was, but he always found the sight of his Master without his glasses to be awe-inspiring. Skinner's dark brown eyes had an intensity that was diluted when he was wearing his wire-rims. Without them, he looked not only younger, but also somehow more frightening, as the full force of his personality was unleashed upon the world.

 

"Fox," Skinner said gently. "Come here."

 

Mulder shuffled nervously up the bed, unable to meet his Master's stern gaze, but Skinner wasn't going to tolerate that. "Look at me." Skinner took hold of his chin, and looked deep into his soul. "You're mine. I could take off these…" his fingers touched Mulder's nipple rings gently, "and this," his fingers brushed over Mulder's cock ring. "I could even remove this." He touched Mulder's collar, "or this." He took hold of Mulder's left hand, and lifted his ring finger to his lips, pressing the gold to his mouth. "I could remove all the marks and symbols I have placed upon your body, and it wouldn’t make any difference. You would still be mine in here." Skinner laid his hand over Mulder's heart, and his solemn, dark eyes held Mulder in thrall. Skinner moved his other hand to the back of Mulder's head, entwined his fingers in his slave's abundant hair, and drew Mulder close. Then he kissed him, hard, and deep, reaching into the very depths of Mulder's heart. Mulder moaned, helpless in his Master's grasp, completely and utterly abandoned to that long, claiming kiss.

 

When Skinner finally released him he was gasping for breath, and had gone, quite literally, weak at the knees.

 

"Don't get me wrong - I enjoy marking my ownership on your flesh," Skinner grinned, tracing a line over the fading welts with one hand, and squeezing Mulder's tender nipples gently between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. Mulder gasped. "I'm just saying that it isn't necessary. It's for show; visible symbols of a truth we both know. I don't need the props, little one, and neither do you, although they're a very valuable training aid. I could have achieved the same effects without using them, but I had more fun this way." He grinned, and pulled Mulder close, took a nipple gently in his mouth, and sucked. Mulder gasped, and put his hands on Skinner's head. His nipples were healing, thanks to the careful attention his Master gave them, and frequent washings in salt water, but even so, they were still very tender. Skinner took one of the rings between his teeth, then flicked it up and down with his tongue, not pulling on it. Mulder felt his cock harden, and he cried out, clutching onto his Master's shoulders. Finally, Skinner finished playing with him, and drew back.

 

"I'm not dismissing your concerns lightly, slave." Skinner laced both his hands into Mulder's thick hair, and looked intently into his eyes. "However, for my own reasons, I don't want to mark you today. You see…I have something else in mind." His eyes held a hint of promise, and Mulder felt his cock harden even more.

 

"What, Master?" He asked, trembling in anticipation. Damn, but how did Skinner always manage to keep him on the brink like this?

 

"Well, as morning discipline will be a feature of your life for…well, for the rest of your life," Skinner gave him a truly evil grin, and Mulder's stomach lurched. "And as morning discipline takes place in the bedroom, and not in the Playroom, I thought it was time to invest in a set of implements to be kept solely for the purpose of reminding you of your status. Open the closet and bring me the brown briefcase," Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder scrambled eagerly off the bed, ran to the closet, retrieved the shiny, new case waiting for him there, and returned with it. He knelt obediently in the submissive position beside the bed, and offered his Master the case, with his eyes down.

 

"Good boy. You've come a long way, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you." Skinner leaned over and dropped a kiss on Mulder's head, while his slave's heart did a dozen little flips in response to his Master's praise. "Okay, you can look," Skinner informed him, and Mulder glanced up, bright-eyed and busy-tailed, eager to see what the case contained. "Here's the key." Skinner held up a small key. He unlocked the briefcase, then beckoned Mulder closer, and fastened the key to Mulder's collar. "These are your implements, Fox," he said, in a deep, sexy drawl that made Mulder's cock harden even more. "It's only right you should wear the key around your neck. Don't lose it." Mulder shuddered. He wouldn't dare. "All right, little one," Skinner laughed, and soothed his hair affectionately. "Open the case."

 

Mulder glanced up nervously, and Skinner affirmed the verbal command with a nod of encouragement. Mulder placed his thumbs on the shiny gold locks, pressed them hesitantly, and they sprang open. He paused, then slowly, in trepidation, he opened the lid. The inside of the case was made of rich, burgundy silk, and nestled upon that, in their own separate spaces, were four items that took Mulder's breath away.

 

"Can I…can I touch them, Master?" he asked, awe-struck.

 

"Please do." Skinner smiled.

 

Mulder put his fumbling, sweaty palms into the beautiful case, and reverently touched a thick, brand new strap, fashioned out of the finest brown leather. He withdrew it from the case, and his breath caught in his throat, as he saw that the implement had been engraved. There, written in beautiful, copperplate lettering, was his name. Fox. Next to it was a perfect drawing of a fox - the same one that he wore on his collar. Mulder held the leather to his nose, and inhaled the heady scent of fresh, new leather.

 

"Good?" Skinner ruffled his hair again, laughing at his slave's reaction.

 

"Yes, Master. Oh, god, yes." Mulder thought he'd come just from the smell, from knowing that these items were for him, and him alone. They hadn't been used on anyone else, and they never would be. His Master had bought them to be used on his slave, had engraved them to mark them out for sole use on Mulder's body, and his flesh tingled at the thought.

 

He nervously plucked at the next item - a sleek, solid paddle. This implement was fashioned out of the most expensive brown leather, just like the strap, and again, it bore his name, in large lettering across its center. Another exquisitely detailed picture of a fox, with wide, curious eyes, and a long, inquisitive snout was drawn beneath it. Mulder slapped the paddle experimentally against his hand, swiftly coming to the conclusion that it was designed to administer a hearty slap, but not to cause the longer lasting discomfort that a heavier paddle would deliver. He turned back to the strap, and tried that on his hand, too enthusiastically, then let out a yelp of surprise.

 

"The strap stings," Skinner offered sympathetically. "The paddle's probably kinder - it spreads the impact over a wider area."

 

"I hope Master remembers that," Mulder said, with a gulp.

 

"Oh yes. I'll remember it. You can rely on it," Skinner replied with a sly, and none too reassuring chuckle.

 

Mulder put the strap back in its place, and drew out a flogger. The handle was made from the same leather as the other implements, but its short, thin tendrils were fashioned from a soft, pliant brown suede. It would kiss, and deliver the lightest of bites, if used properly, and somehow, Mulder was sure that Skinner knew every nuance of sensation it could deliver. He found his name, and the emblematic fox, engraved on the handle.

 

Finally, his hand shaking, Mulder plucked the last object from its resting-place in the case. It was a crop: smooth brown leather, with a tiny brown flap at its tip. Mulder raised it to his mouth and kissed it, found the engraving of his name on its long stem, and pressed his lips reverentially against the carved leather. Then Mulder carefully returned all the items to the box, and when he glanced up at his Master, he had to blink the tears out of his eyes.

 

"Thank you, Master," he whispered.

 

"You might not want to thank me in a minute," Skinner said wryly. "After all, it's only right that we should christen all these implements, hmm?"

 

Mulder's heart missed a beat.

 

"All of them, Master?" he echoed faintly. "In one go?"

 

"All of them," Skinner replied firmly. "Each implement has its own weight and feel, and I would be most negligent in my duties as your Master if I used them on you without discovering how you experience the sensation of each one. Fetch the pillows, slave, and arrange yourself over my knee…and Fox?" Mulder paused in his wild scramble, and glanced up, a question in his eyes. "Make sure that you're comfortable. I might not agree with you on the marking, but I do think you should have a tangible reminder of your status before we return to work. It probably won't be possible to linger over your morning discipline during the week, so this will be a very long session." Mulder swallowed nervously, then nodded. Skinner smiled. "Good boy. Get settled."

 

Skinner sat back, watching, while Mulder gathered up four or five pillows, and placed them over his Master's knee, and on the bed beside his knee. Then Mulder carefully got himself into place. He rested his torso on two of the pillows, hugged another one under his chin, and kicked his long limbs into the most comfortable position, then tried to ignore his racing heart, and relax. He felt Skinner's hand on his bottom, and almost jumped out of his skin.

 

"Hush, little one," Skinner murmured, as if soothing a leggy, inexperienced racehorse. "Just relax." He caressed Mulder's butt for a long time, until Mulder gave into the sensation, and started to bliss out, losing all the tension in his limbs. Then Skinner began to deliver a series of little taps, warming the flesh, until Mulder was moaning, his cock growing hard again. Skinner paused to kiss his slave's ass, and delivered a couple of gentle play bites. Mulder squirmed. Then he tensed, as Skinner drew back. He heard his Master opening something, and glanced over his shoulder. Skinner was holding a silver tin, containing some kind of ointment. "This is a special cream, little one," Skinner told him. "It increases the sensation."

 

"You mean it increases the pain!" Mulder protested.

 

Skinner laughed. "Yes, it does, but that means I don't have to swing as hard, which in turn means that I can carry on for longer, without causing you any lasting damage. Ingenious, isn't it?"

 

"Diabolical more like," Mulder muttered, then yelped as Skinner delivered a stinging swat to his upturned butt.

 

"Careful, boy," Skinner growled, and Mulder felt his insides turn to mush. A few seconds later, something cool was rubbed into his butt. Skinner took his time, making sure that his slave's entire bottom, and the top of his thighs were liberally massaged with the ointment, and a few seconds after it had been applied, it turned warm, creating a burning sensation that made Mulder gasp in surprise.

 

"Interesting effect, isn't it?" Skinner murmured.

 

"I'm not sure," Mulder croaked. His butt felt unbearably warm, and his Master hadn't even started yet!

 

Skinner started slapping him with hard, measured strokes, and Mulder could feel the difference on his butt now that the cream had been applied. Each slap stung! The pain was sharper, and clearer than he had ever known before. He started to squirm.

 

"Fox." Skinner paused, and Mulder glanced over his shoulder at him. "You'll learn to take your morning discipline without all this fuss, or I'll make sure that it's more painful than it would otherwise be," Skinner stated sternly. Mulder bit on his lip, and nodded. "Remember, I've only just started," Skinner remarked ominously. Mulder's cock stirred significantly, as he contemplated a long session utilizing each and every one of those exquisitely beautiful, and horribly dangerous new toys.

 

Skinner peppered his ass with a series of stinging blows from his hand, then paused.

 

"Which one would you like to try first?" He asked.

 

Mulder glanced at the open briefcase. "The paddle," he said firmly.

 

Skinner grinned. "Easing yourself in gently?" He raised an eyebrow.

 

"Too damn right. I'm not stupid," Mulder muttered into his pillow. Skinner guffawed, and pulled the paddle out from the case. He laid the cool leather against Mulder's warm flesh for what seemed like an eternity, and then swung. The paddle made contact with a slapping, thudding sound, and although it smacked his butt hard, it didn't hurt too much. Mulder gave a dreamy smile, and rested his head on his pillow.

 

"How did that feel?" Skinner soothed his sore flesh with a tender hand.

 

"Flat pain…kind'a nice," Mulder murmured.

 

"Obviously I was doing something wrong then," Skinner commented. He set to work in earnest, slapping the paddle down on Mulder's ass, building the pain up expertly to levels just short of exquisite torture. Mulder liked the paddle - it got his endorphins racing without taking him to the edge of his endurance. He started to moan, pressing his erect cock into the pillows, wanting to fondle himself, knowing that wasn't allowed.

 

"Next." Skinner put the paddle to one side. "I can see that particular paddle is never exactly going to strike fear into your soul."

 

"Strap," Mulder said from his endorphin high, sighing softly to himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the first stroke from the strap streaked a stinging pain across his butt.

 

"Details please," Skinner remarked, laying another couple of stripes on his ass.

 

"It's sharp, it stings, it…oh fuck!" he yelped. "No more! Please, no more, Master!"

 

"Nonsense. I want to give each implement a thorough test." Skinner pressed his hand into the small of Mulder's back, and applied the strap with considerable gusto to Mulder's rapidly reddening ass.

 

"Oh shit…oh fuck…" Mulder squirmed helplessly under his Master's strong hand. Skinner paused, and Mulder breathed a sigh of relief, but the respite was only temporary. A few seconds later, he felt Skinner's hand smoothing cool ointment onto his butt again, and he tried to get up in protest. "Not more of that stuff!" he objected, but Skinner quelled him with a hard look, and the next minute, the most exquisite wave of hot pain flooded through his body. "Oh god," he moaned weakly, taking a bite out of the pillow as the waves of pain billowed liberally through his body. "My ass is one fire! Please, wash it off. Please!"

 

"Hold still." Skinner gripped his body firmly, and then resumed the strapping. Mulder could hardly believe the sting in that first blow. He knew Skinner wasn't hitting at anywhere near his optimum strength, but the ointment that had been rubbed into his butt made the stroke hurt like hell. If he had ever doubted the fiendishly diabolical ways in which his Master's mind worked, he didn't now. As far as Mulder was concerned, his Master knew tortures that even the Spanish Inquisition would have been proud of.

 

"Master!" he begged. "Oh god, MASTER! Please!"

 

"I think you've forgotten what your morning discipline is for," Skinner said in a low, hard voice. "Remind yourself, slave. Out loud. Why are you disciplined every morning?"

 

"To…to…help me to remember…that…" Mulder tried to think but it was hard while that strap was doing its evil, burning work, on his tormented, flaming flesh. "That I'm your slave, Master," he gasped at last.

 

"And?" Skinner prompted, continuing the onslaught.

 

"I don't have any rights. You can do what you want with me. My body belongs…to…you…ow!" Mulder's whole body dissolved into the pain, his hard cock competing for attention now with his tormented ass.

 

"Not just your body," Skinner reminded him grimly. Mulder blinked. This was a new part of the litany. Skinner brought the strap down again, smartly, on his burning backside.

 

"No, Master!" he yelped. "All of me! All that I am. I belong to you."

 

"Where?" Skinner asked.

 

"EVERYWHERE!" Mulder cried in reply. "Please, Master, I won't forget, just stop, please, stop for a second, just a second…oh god…" Skinner's hand was relentless though, and the strapping continued until Mulder was sure that his ass was quite literally on fire. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

 

"Not bad, little one." Skinner soothed Mulder's sweaty hair from his eyes. "Not bad at all. Now, what next?"

 

"Breakfast, Master?" Mulder asked hopefully. Skinner's hand was so fast he never even saw the strap deliver another, stinging blow. "Ow!" he yelped.

 

"Moral." Skinner leaned forward and kissed Mulder's ear. "Never smart-mouth your Master when you're lying butt naked over his knee and he's holding a strap in his hand. Only you would need to be told that, pup," he grinned, blowing softly into Mulder's ear.

 

"Yes, Master. Sorry, Master." Mulder wriggled, the burning in his ass competing with his aching cock for his attention.

 

"Next. I'm waiting." Skinner said, folding his arms, and glancing at the contents of the case.

 

"The flogger, Master," Mulder whispered.

 

"Okay." Skinner put the strap back in its place, and removed the flogger. "Hmmm. I'm not exactly at the optimum angle for this, but let's see what we can do anyway." He sat up straight, and pushed Mulder away a little. "Splay your legs, and arms, that's right. And don't move," Skinner warned.

 

Mulder nodded, and buried his face in his pillow. A few seconds later he felt the tender kiss of the flogger on his shoulders. Skinner couldn't do a proper backhanded motion with the implement, but he managed to deliver a series of biting, stinging kisses all the same, covering Mulder's back, bottom, and thighs, and then working his way up again. Mulder relaxed. This was nice. It nipped, but it didn't deliver the vicious kick that the strap had done. He felt his shoulders open up under the onslaught. It was like a really fierce massage; it hurt, but it was such a nice hurt. Mulder sighed. To be fair, Skinner gave the flogger the exact same work-out that he had given both the strap and the paddle. He increased the tempo as he went, and by the time he'd finished, Mulder was sweaty, and had started to squirm and wriggle, and his hard cock was desperate for release. "We can do more with this another time," Skinner said, shaking the flogger to even out the strands, and returning it to its case. A whole session with you in the Grace position against the wall will acquaint you with the darker side of this particular implement I think," he grinned, the implicit promise in his voice making Mulder's cock ache even more. "All right. Last, but most definitely not least." He picked up the crop, and swung it around experimentally. Mulder flinched as the implement made a hissing sound as it sliced through the air.

 

"Oh shit," he muttered weakly.

 

"Hmmm. Sounds good, doesn't it?" Skinner's deep, low voice spoke next to his ear.

 

"No, it sounds scary," Mulder replied, clutching onto his pillow for support. "Please, Master, my butt's already on fire."

 

"Then perhaps we should stoke the flames up a little more," Skinner mused. Mulder's heart sank as Skinner reached for the evil contents of his silver tin. "Hold still." Skinner rubbed more of the ointment into Mulder's fevered flesh, and it was almost too much for his slave. Mulder started to sob, as waves of fire consumed him.

 

"I need to come, Master," he begged. "Please!"

 

"Not yet. First I want to make sure that you're fully aware of your position in this household. Let's run through it again." Skinner picked up the crop, and held Mulder still, then he raised his arm, and delivered a hard swat to Mulder's bottom.

 

"FUCK!" Mulder took a huge bite out of his pillow. He knew that the angle made it impossible for Skinner to deliver as hard as blow as he was capable of, but the ointment made the swipe across his butt hurt as much as the most viciously swung stroke.

 

"I'm going to take you down," Skinner informed him, swinging the crop again. "Make the journey with me, Fox. Tell me who and what you are. Let the words - and the tears - flow." Skinner set up a steady rhythm with the crop on Mulder's backside, and Mulder felt the tears start to run down his cheeks.

 

"I'm your slave, Master. I exist to serve you. I have no status, I am your property. You own me, you can hurt me…or love me…or play with me…whatever you want. I give myself up to you, Ma…aster," he moaned. The words came out in a torrent. "I want only to please you. I worship at your feet, Master. I belong to you. Do whatever you want to me…I'll accept it willingly. I'm yours, Master…yours…" He was panting now, as the crop continued its deadly, accurate work, but he didn't beg Skinner to stop. He reached that place in his head that was so elusive, and so beautiful. Here he was truly at his Master's mercy, could truly offer himself up, and be only what Skinner wanted him to be. He thrust into the bed in time to the blows raining down on his flaming butt, feeling the pain as the most intense mix of pleasure and sensation. He wanted it to stop, and never end at one and the same time. "I'm yours," he whispered. "Here, at work, wherever…here, there, everywhere…like you said, Master." He felt the blows diminish, and then stop completely, and he lay there, in a stupor, as Skinner caressed his glowing, beacon-red backside.

 

"Beautiful, little one. You've taken your discipline well. Will you keep that lesson in mind?" Skinner put the crop back into the briefcase, and clicked it shut.

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder replied, dreamily.

 

"Good boy." Skinner rubbed his butt gently, then opened the silver tin again. Mulder lay there, accepting his Master's will. Skinner tenderly rubbed more of the ointment onto his sore flesh, and Mulder moaned as the now familiar wave of fire consumed him. His butt was so hot he thought he could have heated the entire building with it. Then Skinner bent his head, and pressed his lips firmly into Mulder's hot flesh, and he almost jumped out of his skin. The imprint of Skinner's mouth, left a trail of fiery red kisses, as if Skinner's lips had been made of pure flame. It was the most intense, most erotic sensation he'd ever known. Skinner bit his flesh gently, and Mulder dissolved into a series of incoherent whimpers. His Master's teeth felt like sharp pin-pricks, his tongue like warm water.

 

Skinner kissed his sore buttocks over and over again for an eternity, and Mulder gave himself up to the moment, possessed by the sultry caress. When it finally came to an end, he was on the brink of total erotic exhaustion.

 

"Get up," Skinner whispered in his ear, aiding him as he struggled to make his lifeless limbs obey. His cock was sticking out at an angle, leaking badly. "I want you to remember," Skinner said, drawing him close, "that I can bring you pain, and pleasure - or both at once. You can come whenever you want." And, so saying, he put his hands on Mulder's red-hot buttocks, pulled him towards him, and without warning enveloped his slave's cock in his warm, wet mouth.

 

Mulder cried out, and placed his hands on Skinner's shoulders. "Master…oh fuck…that's so good," he yelled, as Skinner expertly tongued and sucked his hard cock, at the same time as kneading his punished, glowing buttocks with big, strong hands. Mulder's nerve endings went into overload, and he became a creature of pure sensation, the pain and pleasure merging in one exquisite torment that blew his mind. He didn't remember coming. The next thing he knew he was lying on his back on the bed, his head on Skinner's chest, his whole body a quivering mass of jello.

 

"Ah, you're still with us then?" Skinner glanced down at him.

 

"Not necessarily," Mulder replied, dreamily. "Oh shit, sir, where did you learn to do this stuff?"

 

Skinner gazed at him coolly for a moment. "That's the second time you've called me 'sir' this morning. I understand the difference, Fox. 'Sir', although undeniably a term of respect, is what you call me in the office. It distances you from your condition, so I would appreciate it if you saved it for work, or in public. Addressing me as 'sir' in here is one step away from calling me 'Walter', and that, I can assure you, is not acceptable."

 

"I wouldn't dare, Master." Mulder shivered in dread. "You didn't answer my question," he ventured tentatively.

 

"I learned…from an expert." Skinner smiled. "And I learned the hard way - as you are, sweetheart." He looked sad for a moment. Mulder frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean.

 

"Is Master saying that…you didn't ever… I mean you've never subbed, Master, have you?" He asked in surprise, and alarm.

 

Skinner smiled another wistful smile, and tangled his hand in Mulder's hair. "You ask too many questions, slaveboy," he growled. Then he clicked his fingers, and pointed to the floor beside the bed. Mulder tried desperately to get to his feet, but his muscles hardly obeyed his brain's command, and he half-staggered, half-fell off the bed, and into a kneeling position. "Today was unusual," Skinner told him. "Normally on a Sunday we will follow a very specific routine. Remember it, Fox, as I do not expect to have to keep instructing you in the basics. Sunday's are your Master's day. After the morning, uh, cuddle that you seem to have instituted as a new ritual, and after you've been disciplined, you will go and run me a bath. When you've finished bathing me, you will give me a full body massage, trim my hair, and give me a full, clean, shave, before dressing me. I do not expect to dress myself. You will lay out my clothes and help me get dressed. Then you will prepare brunch, and you will wait on me while I eat. You will make sure that you have bought appropriate groceries, and you'll cook for me. Understood?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, his eyes wide. He had never before thought that the idea of waiting on somebody so fully could be so erotic. He likened himself to an old fashioned manservant, seeing to his Master's every need, and the idea turned him on.

 

"Fox." Skinner tapped him on the head, and he looked up, eagerly. "Sunday may be Master's day but Saturday is slave's day. Before you get too excited…" he held up a hand. "This does not mean that I will wait on you on Saturdays. It does mean that you can expect a session in the Playroom if you've behaved well the previous week. It's also likely that I'll put you into the deeply submissive mode, and brush up on your training. This weekend was different for obvious reasons, but I want you to understand that there will be some pattern to your existence here."

 

"Yes, Master," Mulder whispered, awe-struck, and ever so slightly annoyed that he had to wait six whole days until the next Saturday.

 

"That doesn't mean there won't be other sessions in the Playroom during the week - or that I won't demand a massage or other services at other times. It's just to give you some structure and routine. I think you respond well to routine, sweetheart."

 

"You do?" Mulder looked up in surprise. This didn't exactly fit with his own assessment of his personality.

 

"Yes, little one. However much you might think you hate it, secretly you like to know what is expected of you - with a few surprises thrown in along the way to keep you on your toes," Skinner grinned. "Now, get to work, slave. I'm looking forward to experiencing your tender ministrations for the next couple of hours - and Fox?" Mulder paused on his way to the bathroom. "This is the true heart of your servitude. Not the discipline, or what takes place in the Playroom. Here, in small, dutiful ways, in the everyday acts of service, you can show me what's at the heart of your slavery." Skinner's dark eyes were so intense that Mulder had to hold onto the door frame to stop himself from toppling over. He nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He wanted to serve his Master more than anything else in the world. He resolved to pour all his devotion into the next few hours of servitude.

 

Mulder prepared Skinner's bath exactly the way he knew his Master liked it, then laid out the towels to warm, before helping his Master into the bath. Skinner sat back with a contented sigh, and Mulder knelt down beside the bath in the submissive position. Damn, but it was hard keeping his eyes down! He loved watching his Master lying naked in the water. Silent adoration had never exactly been his scene before, but he was definitely coming around to the merits of it. Skinner, though, had other ideas.

 

"Go and kneel over there," he instructed. I want to look at you."

 

Mulder obeyed, kneeling in Skinner's line of sight. Skinner surveyed him for a moment, and Mulder felt himself going red under the intense scrutiny.

 

"Is there a problem, Master?" he ventured.

 

"No. I just enjoy looking at my property," Skinner stated mildly. "I was also thinking of various things I'd like to do to you."

 

"Yes, Master?" Mulder could hardly believe it when his flaccid, completely sated cock, started to harden within its gold ring.

 

"Yes. Fox, you've never trusted a top to do more than spank you and humiliate you a little, have you?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder bit on his lip. "You've researched me, Master," he pointed out. "You know what I've done in the past…and what I've allowed to be done to me."

 

"Yes. I have." Skinner mused on this. "You've happily sucked other men, and you've enjoyed being dominated by them verbally. You've experienced some harsh whippings - which were always instigated by yourself, and you determined the level of intensity as well. You've also accepted some light bondage. On only two occasions you allowed anal intercourse, but you adamantly refused that again after the second time."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder clenched his fists behind his back. He didn't enjoy in-depth analyses of his psyche, and he was worried about where this was going.

 

"So, despite several years on the scene, there are many practices you are unfamiliar with," Skinner pointed out.

 

"Such as?" Mulder could feel himself going red again.

 

"Well, I mentioned fisting to you yesterday," Skinner mused. "I think I'd also enjoy placing you in very tight bondage." Mulder looked up, suddenly wondering why he was gasping for air. "Does that scare you?" Skinner asked, looking at him intently.

 

"A little," Mulder admitted.

 

"Did Phoebe ever do that to you?"

 

"No. Hell, no! I allowed her to tie me up occasionally, but nothing heavy, just the usual handcuffs. That's not to say I didn't want more, Master, it's just I wasn't under any illusions where Phoebe was concerned. I didn't trust her not to run off and leave me there." Mulder fought down a sense of claustrophobia at that thought.

 

"I will never leave you while you are in bondage," Skinner said fiercely. "It's bad practice, and shows a blatant disregard for safety - and whatever I might put you through, you will always be safe with me, Fox." His tone was forceful.

 

Mulder gave a little smile. "Yes, Master. I know that."

 

"Were you ever clamped?" Skinner asked, as if making idle conversation.

 

Mulder swallowed hard. "A couple of times, Master. I didn't like it much," he admitted.

 

"Hmmm. I can do some interesting things with clamps," Skinner said, with a wry chuckle. "While I'll take your likes and dislikes into consideration, little one, there are some activities I will insist upon, whether you like them or not."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder's cock hardened almost immediately. He found the idea of enduring something disagreeable at his Master's insistence almost unbearably arousing.

 

Skinner grinned. "Something's woken up," he commented. "Speaking of which, have you ever had that particular part of your anatomy whipped, Fox?"

 

Mulder almost choked. "NO!" he exclaimed. "Oh god, Master, please…" he spluttered.

 

"Quiet!" Skinner held up his hand. "I think we agreed barely an hour ago that your body is mine to treat as I wish, didn't we?"

 

Mulder's cock was now fully erect, and he nodded, feeling a wave of almost orgasmic pleasure flood through him.

 

"Good." Skinner nodded. "Now, I want to relax, and I want you to entertain me." So saying, he leaned back in the bath, and crossed his hands over his stomach, expectantly.

 

"Entertain you, Master? How?" Mulder asked, frowning.

 

"Play with yourself. Put on a display." Skinner waved a negligent hand. "You have my permission to come again, but make sure that it takes a little while - I want to enjoy watching you first."

 

Mulder thought the ground would open up and swallow him. It was one thing to jerk off in the privacy of his bedroom, or even to wriggle and squirm in his Master's hands, but another to kneel here, and perform under his Master's watchful gaze.

 

"Don't make me wait too long," Skinner said, ominously. "Or the contents of that briefcase might get another workout. Fox? What's the problem?" He asked, as Mulder knelt there, unmoving, his cock flagging.

 

"I've never done anything like this, Master," Mulder admitted, miserably.

 

"Well there's always a first time," Skinner said, reasonably. "And you'll only get better with practice. Or would you prefer it if I ordered you to fetch my bullwhip? A couple of taps from that and I'm sure you'd put your heart and soul into the performance."

 

"No, Master. That won't be necessary." Mulder shot Skinner a withering look.

 

"Good. Get on with it then."

 

Mulder put his hand on his cock, and squeezed, lightly, but there was no response. Shit! When he thought of all the times he'd been ordered not to touch the damn thing, when it had been all he wanted to do, and now, when he'd been given permission, it hung like a piece of putty, limp and soft. He tried running his hand up and down it, but there was still no response. Mulder started to flush an angry, frustrated red.

 

"Fox," Skinner's voice was curiously gentle. "Close your eyes," he ordered. Mulder did as he was told. "Put your head back…that's good. Now, moisten your lip with your tongue, and run your hands over your body. Imagine it's me touching you, claiming you…" That definitely got a response, and Mulder felt a tentative stirring in his cock. "Now, play with your nipple rings, flick them, suck on one of your fingers…that's good…" Mulder did as he was ordered, allowing himself to go into a trance, just obeying each of his Master's commands, and enjoying the sensations in his body. "No, don't touch your cock yet. I want you to sway a little, moan, move your hips - no, stay kneeling - that's right. Now caress your neck, and down over your chest…good boy…" Mulder felt his cock definitely starting to perk up. "Keep going now, just improvise…think how beautiful you are, little one. I want you to imagine how pleasing a sight you are to your Master. Think of how your Master is enjoying watching you on your knees, playing with the toys he likes playing with…"

 

Skinner's voice trailed off, but Mulder kept moving his hands, sliding them sensuously over his body, enjoying himself. Mulder could see the picture of himself that Skinner had painted for him. Kneeling, legs splayed, a lock of his dark hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, his wide lips swollen with desire.

 

"Good, now you can touch your cock." Skinner broke into his reverie. "And open your eyes, sweetheart, make love to me as you touch yourself. Imagine me making love to you."

 

Mulder moaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He opened his eyes, and stared directly at his Master, faltered for a moment, as reality kicked in again, then continued with his caress, finding that place in his head where he had been. Skinner's eyes were dark, and appreciative, and Mulder responded to the fact that he was pleasing his Master.

 

"Is this good, Master?" he asked, running his hand along the full length of his hard shaft, and gently tweaking one of his tender nipples.

 

"Yes, Fox…very good…" Skinner grinned. "Keep going. I want to watch you come."

 

Mulder nodded, and suddenly realized how damn great this felt! He had always had an exhibitionist streak, and this was a turn on! Especially, when it was obvious that it also turned his Master on - big time, judging by the way Skinner's hard shaft was visible sticking out from the bath water.

 

Mulder moaned, and put his head back, but he never took his eyes from Skinner's face, as he continued caressing his body, and pumping on his cock. He had an image of Skinner's hard cock pounding into him, of his Master covering his naked body with his own, and claiming him, fast and rough, the way he had done last night, with no thought for his slave's pleasure, only his own, and the idea turned him on. He existed to serve, and his Master adored using his slave's naked body. Skinner loved taking charge of him, and making him submit to his will. Mulder could hear himself panting. He was on the brink.

 

"Do you want me to come, Master?" He asked.

 

"Yes, slave. Hard," Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder let go with a whoosh, and his come spilt out on his hand, and on the tiled bathroom floor. Mulder knelt there, spent, his head hanging, his chest heaving.

 

"Good. Very good," Skinner sighed appreciatively. "Now, clean up the floor, then come over here." Mulder did as he was told, then went and knelt beside the bath. "Soap me, then you can climb in and wash yourself down before washing me," Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder grasped the soap eagerly, and placed it on his Master's chest, then began to gently lather the wiry chest hair. He loved the scent of his Master's damp skin, and frequently leaned forward to smell it. While he was there, it was impossible not to press his lips against the flesh and steal a series of little kisses. Skinner accepted this evidence of his slave's devotion with a wry, amused smile, and when he was fully soaped, he beckoned Mulder into the water. Mulder knelt, facing his Master, nestled between his knees, and carefully passed a washcloth over Skinner's tanned skin, caressing it in circular motions. He stopped when he got to the bullet wound on his Master's stomach, bent, and kissed it. There was evidence of other, older wounds, on Skinner's back, and thighs. Mulder kissed all of them, then looked up.

 

"Vietnam, Master?" he asked in a whisper.

 

"Yes, Fox." Skinner nodded quietly.

 

"I've wanted to ask before." Mulder trailed a finger over the scars. "But I didn't dare."

 

"You can always, ask, sweetheart," Skinner said, catching Mulder's hand, and kissing it. "Just don't always expect a reply."

 

"No, Master. You were badly wounded though?" Mulder fingers continued their gentle caress.

 

"Yes, but I lived." Skinner shrugged. "At least I lived." He looked suddenly so sad that Mulder couldn't stop himself pressing his lips against his Master's, and pulling the big man close. Then he backed off, apologetically.

 

"I'm sorry, Master," he said quietly.

 

"No need to apologize, little one," Skinner said softly, drawing Mulder back for another kiss. Mulder drowned in dual sensations of the warm water, and the wet warmth of his Master's tongue as it pushed into his mouth.

 

"I want to know you," Mulder confided, when they broke away a few seconds later. "Hell, you know so much about me, but you're such a damn enigma."

 

"All in good time, sweetheart," Skinner replied. "You have the rest of your life to get to know me - there's no need to rush, although I know it's not in your nature to wait, my impatient little slaveboy." He smiled, and pushed the dark lock of hair off of Mulder's forehead. Mulder smiled back.

 

"Master is very patient with me," he murmured, then dipped his head, and sucked Skinner's nipples lightly.

 

"Amen," Skinner muttered ironically, stroking his slave's head as he worked.

 

"Would…" Mulder broke away, and pointed to his Master's hard cock. "Would Master like to use me?" He asked.

 

"Does the slave have a condom to hand?" Skinner asked pointedly.

 

Mulder grinned. "Yes, Master!" he announced, reaching under the bath mat, and drawing one out triumphantly. Skinner grinned, and slapped his slave's butt affectionately. "Although…" Mulder bit on his lip. "Master…I'd like to feel you inside me, without anything between us. Flesh on flesh," he admitted. Skinner's hands stoked his thighs as he considered this.

 

"Well - that's something of a commitment, Fox," he stated.

 

"I'm clean," Mulder said hopefully.

 

"So am I - however…I think we should both think about that some more before we take that step. I also think we should both be tested as a show of good faith. Much as I want to experience your ass without a layer of rubber between us, I'm your Master, and as such I'm responsible for your welfare. I won’t rush this, Fox."

 

"No, Master," Mulder sighed, crestfallen.

 

"And you know…" Skinner grinned. "I think this might be a good opportunity to see if you've been doing your homework, as instructed." He opened the packet, then put his fingers in Mulder's mouth, and slipped the condom inside. "Impress me, slave," he ordered.

 

Mulder felt his heart beat anxiously inside his chest. He had been practicing, but even so, there was a difference between putting a condom on an inanimate object, and sliding it onto his Master's hard cock while they were both in the slippery confines of the bath. Still, his Master had given him an order. He just hoped that Skinner would bear the difficult circumstances in mind when he punished him for his failure.

 

Mulder took hold of his Master's thighs, and positioned himself with his mouth over Skinner's cock, tonguing the condom to get it in the right place. Then he dipped his head, and smoothly went down on Skinner's penis, drawing the condom tight around the hard shaft in one deft movement. He wasn't sure who was the more surprised, him or Skinner, when the condom stayed perfectly, tautly in position.

 

"Shit!" Mulder breathed.

 

"Well done, little one!" Skinner laughed, and gave him a full-throated kiss by way of reward. The bath was of the corner variety, very large, with a little seat on one side. Skinner levered himself onto the seat, and then turned Mulder around, so that he was kneeling in front of him, his chin just out of the water. Mulder felt his Master part his buttocks, and then water flooded into him, in a deliciously warm wave. Skinner played with his ass for a while, slipping his finger in and out, and then he grasped Mulder's buttocks firmly in his hands, and slid his hard cock between them. Mulder, completely relaxed by the soothing warmth of the water, and the previous foreplay, opened up with a moan, as Skinner's shaft found that spot deep inside him that tingled vibrantly at each hard stroke.

 

"Oh shit, Master…shit…it's so good…" he whispered, as his Master took him, deeply, and thoroughly, plunging hard and fast into the very depths of his slave's body. Mulder could feel Skinner's hands on his back, and thighs, and the water splashed around them, soaking the bathroom floor. Mulder wondered why he had ever had an aversion to anal sex before. With Skinner it just felt so right. He gave himself up to the joy of serving his Master with his body, with his whole heart, reveling in the fact that his Master took such pleasure from entering him, and consuming him in this way. When Skinner came, and withdrew, Mulder turned around, and removed his condom, then kissed his Master's now flaccid cock.

 

"Thank you for honoring me with this part of yourself, Master," he whispered. They were words he could never have imagined even thinking before now, let alone saying, but they just felt right for the moment. Skinner smiled, and caressed his slave's ears.

 

"Good boy," he murmured. Then he laughed out loud. "You've come a long way, slave," he said. "I'm so proud of you." Mulder knelt between his Master's legs, and closed his eyes, cherishing the moment, his Master's praise still ringing in his ears.

 

Mulder helped Skinner out of the bath, and dried him - slowly, lingeringly, and with exquisite care and attention to detail. He was so used to rushing through tasks, getting from a to b by the quickest possible route, that he would never have imagined that something so simple could bring him so much pleasure. He lost himself in the task, rubbing down his Master's glistening body, gently patting his butt, and stroking his penis and balls with the soft towel, bending to dry between each and every toe until he was finished. Then he wrapped Skinner in his bathrobe, and walked him back into the bedroom.

 

"You can massage me on the bed - and shave me in front of the mirror," Skinner pointed. Mulder nodded, and went to get his oils. He returned to find his Master stretched out, naked and glorious on the bed, like a large lion resting in the sun. He warmed the oil in his hands, then dripped it onto his Master's body and began to stroke his tanned flesh, losing himself in the task. He poured every ounce of his devotion into the massage, and was pleased when his Master relaxed completely under his tender ministrations. Skinner's hard muscles gradually loosened, as Mulder's long, skillful fingers smoothed away his Master's cares and stresses. This felt so good! Being a slave, being able to serve his magnificent Master. Mulder was struck suddenly by how damn lucky he had been. He could have sold himself to anyone, to someone who didn't understand him, and didn't even want to try. He stopped suddenly, in mid-stroke, stunned by what he had done.

 

"Fox?" Skinner sat up and looked at him.

 

"I've been such a fucking idiot," Mulder told him.

 

"What are we talking about in particular here?" Skinner raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

"Signing that contract," Mulder replied, distracted. Then he looked at his Master and caught a glimpse of hurt misunderstanding in those usually expressionless brown eyes. "Oh shit, no. I didn't mean that. I meant…you were right, when you pointed out how reckless I was to sell myself to a stranger. If it hadn't been you…" he broke off, a lump rising in his throat, as he imagined how terrible it would have been if he hadn't ended up with Skinner. If he was standing here, serving someone else, someone who didn't love him, someone he couldn't love the way he loved his Master…Mulder felt his chest constricting - he couldn't breathe.

 

"Fox. Hold on." Skinner took hold of his shoulders, and shook him lightly. "It was me, and this is a good breakthrough - if you can see your behavior like this. If you can see the way you throw yourself into situations that are potentially harmful to you, without thinking about the risks. Now, breathe. In, out…that's good."

 

"A breakthrough?" Mulder sat down on the side of the bed, his body nerveless, taking deep gulps of air.

 

"Yes," Skinner grinned at him, and tousled his hair. "A good breakthrough. I told you I'd take you down to the bottom of yourself, sweetheart. Don't worry - the process might hurt occasionally but it'll be good for you."

 

"Only a top could say something like that," Mulder grinned back.

 

"You betcha!" Skinner cuffed him lightly on the side of his head, and then his expression became thoughtful. "Fox - did anything lead to you spinning out of control to the point where you were prepared to sign that contract? Was there a single event that led to it, or was it just a gradual build up?"

 

Mulder frowned. He didn't like coming out of the role they'd built up here, and tackling any of his real life issues, but he knew that Skinner wasn't about to let him evade this subject.

 

"No, there wasn't anything in particular," he shrugged.

 

"And in the past - when you sought out punishment in order to get sexual release, was there a pattern to that?" Skinner took hold of his face, and looked directly into his eyes. "Did it happen after particularly difficult cases, or if there had been a set-back in pursuit of your quest?"

 

"No." Mulder tried to drop his eyes, but Skinner stroked his thumbs down the side of his cheeks, until he raised them again. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not punishing myself for Sam, or for anything else…the plain truth is I just get off on it. I don't deny that sometimes I sought out this kind of release after I'd been involved in a particularly cerebral case - as if I needed to get back into my body again, to touch bases with it. I know that sometimes, I, uh, I ignore what my body needs, with food, medication, rest and so on." He bit on his lip, but Skinner's eyes were encouraging.

 

"Go on," Skinner prompted.

 

"Then it helps me to feel, to really feel - pleasure, pain, both." Mulder's could see his own shining eyes reflected back at him in his Master's dark eyes. "But usually, after bad stuff happened with my quest, as you call it, my libido went into hibernation to be honest. That wasn't when I felt the urge to be topped most. It's when I'm distanced, when I'm not so involved in that obsession that the sex thing kicks in, and starts spiraling away from me. Sometimes I think I've used my quest in the past simply to avoid my sex drive, not the other way around. I don't pretend to understand it. Does it have to be understood?" he asked.

 

"No." Skinner smiled. "Some things are just the way we're made. I just wanted to get a handle on your behavior patterns. Are you feeling calmer now?" His dark eyes were searching. Mulder swallowed hard, and nodded. "Okay - get back to work then, slaveboy." Skinner slapped his thigh affectionately, and laid himself back down on the bed.

 

Mulder didn't need telling twice. He devoured his Master's body with his oiled hands, wondering at himself. He knew why he had wanted the safety and security of that contract now. He knew he had wanted to be stopped, before he went too far. He knew he had wanted to throw himself into the abyss that had haunted him all his life, to drown in whatever darkness awaited him, and to finally give into it. Only Skinner had been waiting for him, had caught him, and carried him back to the light, and now Mulder was lost and found at the same time, and he didn't know what would happen to him next.

 

"Master…I said something last night, but you didn't hear. I didn't have the courage to say it to your face - I still don't, but…" Mulder began in a flurry.

 

"It's all right, little one. In your own time," Skinner said soothingly.

 

"Okay. I wanted to say…" Mulder was glad Skinner was face down as he wasn't sure he could have continued otherwise. "I know…that it'll be hard when we go back to work. I know I'll drive you crazy, and I'll probably resent you, and that sometimes you'll curse Agent Mulder and wonder what the hell happened to your slave, and… I just wanted to say that this last week has been the best week of my whole crappy, fuck-up of a life. Somehow, being this, to you, is at the core of my soul. I think I've been more truly myself here than at any other time, in any other way. I know it can't carry on. I know we have to go back to the real world…but I wanted to tell you that anyway. So that you know."

 

"I do know, Fox." Skinner caught Mulder's hand as it massaged his shoulder, and kissed it gently. "I know."

 

Mulder finished his task silently, enjoying every second spent massaging his Master's taut, firm flesh. Then he wrapped Skinner in his robe again, and sat his Master down in front of the mirror, before fetching all the apparatus for shaving him. He was nervous, but he had managed to shave the requisite number of balloons without killing them, and if Skinner thought he was ready, then he had to hope he was. He lathered his Master's chin with shaving foam, then held the other man's face steady, and raised the cut-throat razor to his jaw. Skinner didn't so much as flinch. His eyes met Mulder's, and they held an expression of total trust. Mulder felt his nervousness leave him, and he set about his task with a firm, steady hand, whisking the foam from his Master's chin, and neck, with sweeping movements, utterly confident. When he'd finished, he applied after-shave, patting his Master's face appreciatively, and Skinner ran a hand over his newly shaven jaw, and gave a whistle.

 

"Thank you, Fox. That's one of the finest shaves I've ever had," he said. Mulder glowed with the praise, and went to get his Master's clothes ready. He dressed Skinner in faded blue jeans, and a navy henley, then laced him into his timberlands, before leaving his Master in order to go downstairs and prepare the breakfast.

 

Cooking wasn't exactly Mulder's strong point, but he managed to serve up something passably edible for breakfast. When Skinner had finished, he left Mulder to eat his own breakfast, and clear away the dishes, instructing him to join him in the lounge when he was done. Mulder went about the task happily enough, whistling to himself. Wanda sat and watched him, or, more accurately, sat and watched the faucet, hoping for a stray drip of water to escape so that she could bat it with her paw. Mulder tolerated this for a while, then suddenly took a handful of bubbly suds, and deposited them on her head. She gave a startled squawk, shot him a venomous look, and then ran towards the kitchen door, shaking her head vigorously. Mulder got there first, and banged it shut, looking down on her from a lofty height.

 

"Not so fast, Wanda baby. If you go telling tales to daddy, then the next meal I'll be serving up to him will be cat stew. Comprendi?" he said. She glared at him for a second, then sat on her haunches and licked her bottom energetically in reply. He nodded sagely. "I see that we understand each other, madam!" He opened the door, and she walked haughtily though it, with as much dignity as she could muster while burdened by one limp, and completely sodden ear.

 

Mulder sauntered out to join her a few minutes later, then stopped. Skinner was seated on the couch, with a bedraggled Wanda on his lap. She was washing her assaulted ear with far too much enthusiasm, Mulder thought, clearly drawing attention to it. He approached, cautiously, and Skinner pointed to his feet. Mulder crouched beside them. Skinner laced his hand in Mulder's hair, and drew his head back.

 

"Wanda has a complaint," he hissed, ominously.

 

"She got in the way!" Mulder yelped.

 

"The truth, Fox, or you'll go over my knee until you remember the honesty lesson," Skinner warned.

 

"Oh, okay. I dumped some water on her - but she was in the way." Mulder glared at the cat.

 

"Well, I won't have you upsetting her. You'll have to be punished," Skinner told him. Mulder pouted, not seriously worried, although his butt still ached from earlier. At least if Skinner upended him over his knee then Wanda would have to vacate her cozy position, and that was a victory of sorts. "Yes - I want you to apologize to her," Skinner told his slave. Mulder's mouth hung open in dismay.

 

"You have got to be joking!" He exclaimed. "Master," he added, as a hasty afterthought.

 

"No. I'm deadly serious. And after you've apologized - on your hands and knees - you can kiss her nose," Skinner informed him.

 

Mulder had the very real suspicion that his Master was trying hard not to laugh. He glared at him through narrowed eyes."No," he said. Skinner's hand tightened in his hair.

 

"Would you like to repeat that?" Skinner asked pleasantly.

 

"No…Master?" Mulder offered, hopefully. Skinner's hand went to his belt. "Oh all right. I'll kiss the stupid cat," Mulder capitulated gracelessly. Skinner released his hold on Mulder's hair, and Mulder got to his knees, and looked at Wanda. She looked back at him, calmly, from the safety of her slave's lap, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

 

"Wanda, I'm sorry, okay." He glanced at Skinner, who made a movement with his eyebrows, indicating that Mulder should continue. Mulder sighed. "You're a cute cat, whose been spoiled rotten by an indulgent master laboring under the misapprehension he's your slave, and who…"

 

"Fox." Skinner's voice held a warning.

 

"Oh, all right. Sorry, Wanda," Mulder sighed. "You're a really nice cat." He leaned forward, and planted a kiss on her delicate creamy nose, and she waved her tail menacingly in reply.

 

"I don't think you're forgiven, but it's a start." Skinner fondled the cat's ears affectionately. "However, in view of your attitude, from now on I'm going to institute a ten minute compulsory cuddle period every day. That's you and Wanda - not you and me," he stated firmly.

 

"So, now wouldn't be a convincing time to mention my cat hair allergy would it?" Mulder asked. Skinner raised an eyebrow. "I thought not," Mulder sighed. "You're such a hard bastard, Master."

 

"Yeah, and don't forget it," Skinner grinned. "I think ten strokes with the strap before bedtime for your tone and attitude will help you keep it in mind, Fox, and another six for the 'bastard' comment. Remind me to administer them. Now, you fell asleep before you could finish your confessional last night, and I don't want that habit to lapse, so I think we'll do another one now."

 

"Now? Here?" Mulder found the confessionals hard, and he didn't feel in the mood. He was never sure how Skinner took his honesty, and he always ended up revealing far more than he wanted to, in a way that made him squirm with embarrassment afterwards.

 

"Here. Now," Skinner told him. "Sit however and wherever you like."

 

Mulder thought about it. Where he really wanted to sit was with his head in Skinner's lap, which was where Wanda was right now. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk in such a position, and he couldn't look straight at Skinner during a confessional. He found it hard enough as it was, without seeing those dark eyes watching him intently as he talked. Instead, he knelt on the floor beside Skinner's knee, and leaned into his leg. He felt his usual insecurity about revealing too much of himself, but Skinner's hand found his neck, and started a gentle massage, and he started to relax.

 

"Okay, yesterday…yesterday…I…did you know that bathroom thing in the restaurant was just about every wet dream I've ever had come true? And I didn't even get to come! In fact, that was part of what made it so good. There was this place I went into in my head, where I was on fire with being a slave, being your slave, being of service. It made my whole body tingle. Just remembering it is enough to fuel my next dozen jacking-off fantasies…not that I would - jack off I mean," he added hastily. "Not unless you gave me permission anyway…" He stopped, hating himself for sounding so damn stupid. God, Skinner must be laughing his head off at his clumsy, hesitant attempts at explaining the way he felt. Skinner's hand picked up speed on his neck, kneading him encouragingly. "You know me so well it's scary sometimes. You must have been a fantastic field agent, sir…" Skinner's fingers stopped momentarily. "Um, Master," Mulder corrected. "So damn thorough. Not that I'm not - just that I suppose I act more on inspiration and pay less attention to detail…and consequences." Mulder buried his face in his knees, with a sigh. "I know what you were trying to teach me with the whole bullwhip thing…but I don't think I'm going to change. I just know that when I put on my shirt and tie tomorrow, when I get back to my office, that it'll be as if all this never happened. I'm scared that it won't work there, that I'll go back to spinning out of control and I won't know why, although it's nice knowing you'll be around to pull me back in. That's the only thing that makes me feel okay about tomorrow. You will be there to do that, won't you?" Mulder suddenly looked up at his Master, his heart pounding. Supposing Skinner kept their home life and work life so separate that he wasn't there to provide the safety net Mulder so desperately needed? Skinner didn't reply, but he did smile, and his blunt fingers continued their soothing caress on his neck. Mulder bit his lip.

 

"Okay…I'll be patient, I'll try not to get too edgy. I bet I don't sleep tonight. I want you to know you've got my permission to be as much of a hard-ass as you need to be if I look like I'm running wild. Hell, not that you need my permission! Just so you know. I'd prefer to be reeled in than to float off into space. I scare myself when I get in too deep. Sometimes I can't even see what's happening to me until it's too late. Shit, you landed yourself with one psycho slave. You must really be regretting taking me on…" He trailed off, sat down gingerly on his still glowing ass, gathered his knees to his chest, and hugged them with his arms. He was silent for several minutes, then decided that he was through. He moved his head, rested his chin on Skinner's knee, closed his eyes, and was rewarded when Skinner gently stroked his hair. Mulder sighed. This felt so good. This felt the best. He could sit like this forever.

 

Skinner broke the mood a few minutes later, by disengaging Mulder's head from his knee, and getting up.

 

"Okay, little one. We have some practical details to sort out. Are you listening?" Mulder came out of his reverie, and sat up straight. "Good - first of all, money." He took a credit card out of his pocket and handed it to his slave. "This is yours. There's a spending limit of $5,000. I'll keep track of any purchases you make, so I'd advise you to be…circumspect. This is not because I don't trust you, but more because I want you to understand that your life is transparent to me. There can be no secrets. I want to know everything you do, think, or feel. Understood?"

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder glanced at the credit card. "Master…this is going to feel a bit weird. I mean, I've been handling my own finances since I was 17 years old. I'm not sure about this."

 

"Tough." Skinner shrugged. "This may not be the way it will always be, Fox, but you've only been my slave for one week, so you'll have to expect to be kept on a short rein to begin with."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder bit down his resentment. He had signed away his money knowingly when he'd made that contract. He could hardly complain about it now.

 

"This isn't a marriage, Fox, or a negotiation between lovers. You are my slave. Have I ever given you cause to misunderstand that basic fact?" Skinner asked him.

 

Mulder shook his head. "No, Master."

 

"You knew what that entailed, and you entered this condition willingly, didn't you?" Skinner pressed.

 

"Yes, Master. I did." Mulder nodded. "Master…what about cash? I mean, a credit card's okay, but I'll need some cash, for lunch, or to buy a soda, or whatever."

 

"Yes, Fox, I expect you will. You can ask me for cash whenever you require it."

 

"What?" Mulder gasped. "Like, come up and ask you for lunch money in your office or something?"

 

"That's right." Skinner placed his hands behind his back, and looked down on his slave from his full, forbidding height. "I said it was a short rein, Fox, and that's exactly what it'll be. When you can accept these restrictions, and learn to live happily within them, that's when I'll consider lengthening the leash - but not before then. You think you've learned a lot in the past week, and you have, but trust me, you have a long way to go."

 

"I see." Mulder's heart sank. "Master - I'm used to behaving like an adult, making reasoned decisions…" he began. Skinner held up his hand.

 

"I'm not treating you like a child, Fox. I'm treating you like a slave - which is exactly what you are. As for the reasoned decisions…from now on you can check them with me. If they really are 'reasoned' there shouldn't be any problems, should there?" His tone was deceptively pleasant, but Mulder knew just what he was getting at.

 

"No, Master. There shouldn't," he said sulkily.

 

"A friend of mine, who lived in a similar set-up to this one, had a very efficient slave who used to do his books for him, and keep a check on the household finances," Skinner said. "He earned that right, by proving he was worthy and capable. You can earn the same rights, Fox. In time. With diligence, and commitment."

 

"I see." Mulder nodded glumly, sure that he'd never be good for long enough to earn any such rights.

 

"As for the rest of your behavior - I do not want you to come to me with every tiny decision you have to make. You're more than capable of using your own initiative and I'm sure that in most given situations you'll know what I expect of you. If you choose not to take that course of action, then you know there will be consequences," Skinner said ominously. Mulder's heart did a flip. "If you're in any doubt - just ask. I will not punish you for not being sure, or for being tempted. I will punish you for disobedience, dishonesty, disrespect, and putting your own life in unnecessary danger. Those are the four givens. Punishment will not necessarily be of the physical variety, Fox," Skinner informed his kneeling slave. Mulder looked up, curious. "I'm very good at devising alternative forms of punishment when I think it's more appropriate," Skinner warned.

 

"I know," Mulder sighed. "I haven't forgotten the exquisite boredom of tape surveillance, Master."

 

Skinner laughed. "I'm glad to see my punishments were effective even before I had the leeway to be truly creative." He crossed over to where Mulder was kneeling, and got out his wallet, then began counting out some cash. Mulder had a sudden vivid flash of an old fantasy, as his Master handed him the folded up notes.

 

"Here's some money for tomorrow," Skinner began, then he glanced at Mulder's burgeoning erection, bemused. "Was it something I said?" He murmured. Mulder flushed.

 

"It's nothing." He willed the erection away, but it stayed resolutely in place as he took the money his Master was giving him.

 

"No, it's very clearly something," Skinner observed. "You can either tell me, or I can give you six strokes with my belt, and then you can tell me. It's up to you."

 

Mulder bit on his lip. "It's not a very politically correct fantasy, Master."

 

"Neither is slavery," Skinner pointed out wryly. "How we conduct our fantasies, needs and desires is nobody's business but our own, I think, so long as we don't harm anyone else. Speak, slave. I'm waiting. If my slave has a fantasy, I think his Master should know about it - don't you?"

 

"Okay, it was when you handed over the cash, Master. It kinds of ties in with what you did last night. I've always wondered what it would be like to be picked up in a bar by some wealthy stranger, and to be...paid…you know, for services rendered."

 

"Ah." Skinner nodded. "Well, that's a commonplace enough fantasy, and certainly nothing to inspire any shame."

 

"I wouldn't want it to actually be real," Mulder said hastily. "I mean it must be a crappy lifestyle, and anyway, I'm far too old to take up a career as a rent boy. I just like the fantasy. Hell, that can't surprise you. Selling myself, quite literally, into slavery, has to be the ultimate version of the fantasy."

 

"Hmmm. Yes. Although being a hustler would give you more…control over the fantasy," Skinner observed. "Now, let's get back to business. Do you know what is expected of you tomorrow?"

 

"Yes, Master. I have to get up at 5 a.m., swim for half an hour, make you your coffee, wake you. Then we both get dressed and go to work?" Mulder looked up for confirmation.

 

"Yes. That's good. Once you've accepted your morning discipline, and been dismissed, you're on your own recognizance. You can drive to work in your own car, or take the metro, and leave at whatever time is convenient to you. I expect you to be back in this apartment by 6 p.m. every evening, unless there's a legitimate work reason to explain your absence, and you've cleared it with me. When I return home in the evening I expect to find you naked, and waiting for me. Bedtime is no later than 10 p.m." Mulder's heart sank again, and Skinner must have noticed the expression on his slave's face, because he gave a rueful smile. "Fox - this is all part of the short leash. If you respond well, I'll let you have more freedom. First you have to show me that you're prepared to work for that."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, sighing internally. He had a feeling that the next few days were going to stretch both his obedience, and his Master's patience, to their respective limits.

 

"Good. Now go and get washed and dressed," Skinner ordered unexpectedly.

 

"Dressed?" Mulder looked confused.

 

"Yes. Wear anything you want. You're going back to the real world tomorrow, and it's time we got you used to that idea. And Fox?" Mulder turned back, his foot on the stair.

 

"Whatever you do, I promise you that I will never, ever regret taking you on. Understood?"

 

Mulder swallowed hard, remembering what he'd said in his confessional. "Yes, Master."

 

"Good. Go get dressed." Skinner shooed him on his way.

 

Mulder ran back to his bedroom, took a shower, washed his hair, then pulled on his jeans, and the new shirt Skinner had bought for him the day before. He ran back down the stairs, two at a time, reveling in the feel of his sneakers on his feet, instead of going around barefoot. Skinner looked at him appreciatively.

 

"Good," he said, "now take your clothes off."

 

"What?" Mulder glared at him. "I just put them on."

 

"And now your Master is telling you to take them off. Do you have a problem with that?"

 

"No. Master." Mulder ground out, sullenly. He put his hand up to his shirt, and started unbuttoning.

 

"Not like that," Skinner interrupted. "What's the first rule of this house, Fox?"

 

"Your pleasure is paramount, Master," Mulder said quickly. He'd learned that lesson well.

 

"All right. Undress in such a way as to please me then. Put on a show - like you did earlier, in the bathroom."

 

"You want me to do a striptease?" Mulder asked, horrified.

 

"Yes," Skinner replied blandly. "There's no point having a slave if you can't make him perform. There will be many occasions when I take you to parties, and instruct you to undress. I don't want you to slip out of your clothing as if your body embarrasses you. I want you to undress in such a way as to make everyone in the room watch, and I want them to envy me for owning such a beautiful, entertaining, obedient slave. This is a skill you'll have to practice."

 

"You'll make me undress in front of a room full of people?" Mulder's heart thudded in his chest.

 

"Of course. I've already displayed you naked at your party, Fox. What's the problem here?" Skinner asked.

 

"Just…going somewhere else, away from here…having people look at me, making them look at me…"

 

"Ah, I see. Well, firstly, I'll be with you, and that's all that should matter. It doesn't make any difference where we are - I'll be at your side. Secondly, I know that I showed you off at the party, and you didn't display yourself, as such, but you'll have to learn. I insist." Skinner's eyes were deadly serious. Mulder swallowed nervously, then nodded. He put his hand up to his shirt again, and tried undulating his hips. Skinner sat down on the couch, nursing a glass of whisky, and watched over the rim. Mulder felt himself going red.

 

"Shit… I'm no good at this, Master," he said, stopping in the middle of a clumsy hip-roll.

 

"Then you have to learn. It's more a question of enthusiasm than skill," Skinner said. "Proceed."

 

Mulder sighed, and started again. He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine he was in his room, alone. Damn, but he felt stupid doing this. He slid his hand into his pants, and played with pushing down his jeans, then turned and waggled his bottom half-heartedly in Skinner's direction. He did finally manage to undress completely, then stood there, naked once more, his whole body a nice shade of vermilion. Only then did he pluck up the courage to open his eyes. Skinner was giving him an assessing stare.

 

"Okay. I know I was shit," Mulder sighed.

 

"You could certainly do with some more work, but you'll get there. In time. You really don't have a choice," Skinner told him with a wry chuckle. "All right - put your clothes back on."

 

"You're not going to make me try it again, are you?" Mulder asked.

 

"No. I'm not. Next time I ask you to do this, I expect you to do it properly - or there'll be consequences. Give it some thought, Fox."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder buttoned up his jeans gratefully.

 

"There's something else you can give some thought to," Skinner added, when he'd dressed. "I told you that Sunday is 'Master's Day'. I've kept you amused and occupied all week, which, don't get me wrong, has been very enjoyable," he mused, pursing his lips and smiling. "But now I'd like to relax. I have some paperwork to do in preparation for tomorrow, so you have a couple of hours free time. You can go out, swim, work-out, or do whatever you want, but our evening plans are up to you. Organize a nice meal for us both if you want, although I wouldn't advise you to actually cook it yourself, or dream up some other nice treat, but I'd like you to think of a way to make it a good evening for me. I'll expect you to come up with something every Sunday. It doesn't have to be much. Just something to surprise, and please me."

 

Mulder nodded, and watched as Skinner disappeared into his study. Damn! He wished he could think of something really fantastic to surprise Skinner with, but his mind was a blank. Skinner had said that it didn't have to be much, but Mulder wanted it to be good. When he looked back on what Skinner had done for the past week, he appreciated the other man's skill and ingenuity. He had contrived to keep Mulder continually on edge, while teaching him some important lessons along the way. The man was truly a Master - completely skilled in his art. Mulder was apprehensive enough about going back to work to want to show Skinner how much he appreciated what he'd done for him, before he started jerking him around as Agent Mulder to his Master's Assistant Director Skinner. An idea occurred to Mulder. Skinner had said that he was a sensualist. There had to be a way to appeal to that side of his Master's personality. He went to the hall phone, and checked through the list of restaurant menus that Skinner had left there. A couple of them were particularly well thumbed so Mulder took that as evidence that they were Skinner's favorites. He settled on the Thai one, then telephoned the restaurant and asked them if they knew what Walter Skinner's favorite meal was. Luckily his Master was well known to them, and before long Mulder had a complete menu ordered. Now it was time to work on the next part of his plan.

 

At 7 p.m., Mulder knocked on the study door, then opened it and put his head around it. Skinner was hard at work, and glanced up, frowning.

 

"It's late, Master. I thought it was time to interrupt you," Mulder told him. Skinner glanced at his watch.

 

"Shit, is that the time? I didn't realize." He shook his head, then did a double take, as Mulder entered the room. Mulder grinned, relishing the look his Master was giving him. He was dressed in one of the new outfits Skinner had bought for him the previous day: a pair of tight, black chinos hugged his ass, and he was wearing a shiny, petrol blue shirt. "You're looking good," Skinner said appreciatively. "Something smells good too. What is it?"

 

"If Master would follow me, I'll show you," Mulder said.

 

He led Skinner back into the dining room, and held out his Master's chair for him, expectantly. Skinner glanced around the room, his eyes shining in delighted surprise. Mulder had been out and purchased a dozen candles, which were placed strategically around the room, casting a soft, orange glow. Skinner sat down in the chair, and Mulder went and opened a bottle of wine.

 

"What are we drinking?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder shook his head. "That's a surprise," he said. "Um, this might be too much, so tell me if it is, but how does Master feel about being blindfolded?"

 

Skinner looked up sharply. "That would depend upon the purpose, Fox," he replied.

 

"Well…" Mulder stood behind the other man, and massaged his shoulders lightly, noting that a few new knots had appeared in them since earlier in the morning. "I've arranged for a special meal, Master, but I'd like to feed it to you myself, to surprise you."

 

Skinner considered this for a moment, then nodded. "That would be…interesting," he agreed.

 

Mulder grinned, and went to fetch a velvet scarf that he had ready for the occasion. He caressed Skinner's head lightly with the lush fabric as he tied it around the other man's eyes. Then he brought the meal to the table, and placed a fork full of steaming food against Skinner's lips. The other man opened obligingly, and took a bite, considered the taste, and then broke into a broad grin.

 

"Red chicken curry?" he exclaimed. "That's my favorite."

 

"I know, Master." Mulder poured the wine, and held the glass to Skinner's lips. Skinner took a sip, and laughed again.

 

"Do you know all my favorites, little one?" he asked, whipping off the blindfold and surveying his plate in pleased anticipation.

 

Mulder grinned. "I'm a trained investigator, Master. I did a little research of my own."

 

Mulder pressed a button on the remote, and the CD player started playing a random selection of songs; some jazz, some Mozart, some Sinatra.

 

"I see that even my musical tastes have been discovered." Skinner raised his glass to his lips, and smiled at Mulder over the rim.

 

"Of course, Master. How's your meal?" Mulder picked up his own fork, and started to eat.

 

"Delicious. This is lovely, Fox," Skinner said sincerely.

 

"I noticed a series of travel guides in your bookcase, Master. Have you traveled widely?" Mulder asked.

 

Skinner shook his head. "Not as widely as I wish," he said with a sigh. "I did go to Europe on vacation a few years back - I'd like to return. I'm something of a history buff."

 

Mulder spent the next hour discussing his time at Oxford with his Master, and sharing reminiscences of journeys to foreign lands. He did his best to be entertaining, and attentive, and he loved watching his Master relax, and talk to him openly about his past.

 

"It's stupid, but I think one of the reasons I enlisted for 'Nam was because I had some damn crazy idea about traveling." Skinner shook his head sadly.

 

"It's one way to see the world," Mulder shrugged.

 

"Only if you want to find out what the world looks like through the sights of a gun," Skinner remarked grimly.

 

"There must have been more of a reason to you enlisting than that," Mulder held his breath. He longed to know more about his Master.

 

"There was." Skinner shrugged, and wiped his napkin over his mouth.

 

"Do you ever talk about it? To anyone?" Mulder pressed.

 

"Once. Then no more." Skinner shrugged again. "Some memories are too painful to keep getting out, and tearing apart, Fox."

 

"I know." Mulder nodded. Skinner's eyes met his, and Mulder knew that they understood each other. He steered the conversation onto lighter topics.

 

When they'd finished dessert, and coffee, Mulder got up, and held out his hand.

 

"Would Master like to dance?" he asked. Skinner looked at him in surprise. Mulder shrugged. "I've never danced with another man, Master," he admitted honestly. "So I'm probably crap, but I thought…well, it might be a stupid idea, but…"

 

"Don't spoil it, Fox." Skinner grinned, getting up. "It's no more stupid than some of the things we've done over the past week."

 

Mulder thought of being led around on the end of his Master's leash, and broke into a grin himself. Skinner closed his hands around Mulder's waist, and pulled him close, and Mulder rested his head against his Master's cheek. He felt brave enough to caress Skinner's taut buttocks lightly, enjoying the feel of his Master's solidly muscled body pressed against his own. It felt so good, to be encased in Skinner's big arms, sated after a good meal, drifting in time to the music. After about half an hour, Mulder dropped to his knees, and opened his Master's pants. Skinner moaned, and allowed his slave to reach into his briefs, and take his throbbing cock in his hand. Mulder stroked it into full erection, then bestowed several little kisses along the hard shaft.

 

"I just want you to remember that I can do this," he whispered. "Before we go back to work, I want you to know that I can be attentive, and obedient, and thoughtful. I want you to believe I can be the perfect slave, and, um…" he looked up into Skinner's dark eyes, "I want you to remember that next week when I screw up, because I will screw up." And before Skinner could reply, Mulder enveloped his cock in his mouth, and brought him skillfully to climax, holding the other man's hips as his Master pumped into him. When he'd finished, Mulder looked up, hesitantly.

 

"Thank you, Fox," Skinner murmured, stroking the side of his face, softly.

 

Mulder smiled. Seeing Skinner like this today had made him appreciate the other man as a person, and not just as his Master. He was determined to find out more about the man who'd captured his heart, whether Skinner wanted to tell him or not. He wanted to discover what had happened to his Master in Vietnam, and he wanted to know who had lived in the upstairs apartment before he had arrived. He wanted to understand Skinner. He was hungry to uncover every last fact about his Master's past. He was, after all, as he had pointed out, a very good investigator, and he intended to put his skills to good use.

 

Mulder knew he faced a strapping before bed, and very probably a sleepless night, to say nothing of a stressful week ahead, but right here and now, he felt good - damn good, and that was because he knew where he belonged. Irrevocably, and without doubt. Whatever trials they faced, he knew he could cling onto that one fact.

 

"No. Thank you, Master," he replied softly.

 

---

Chapter 11: Ring, Master

Mulder lay very still, one eye on the clock as the digital display gradually changed, taking him closer and closer to doomsday. 5:58, 5:59…He should have got up an hour ago. He should have swum, he should be making his Master's coffee, and giving him his wake-up call, and instead he was…6:00. Skinner's alarm clock hummed into life. Mulder jumped. So, his Master wasn't going to leave his wake-up call entirely in the hands of his slave on a work day. Mulder didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved. He rolled over, the chain clinking around his neck, and squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Skinner get up. There was the sound of footsteps that stopped by his head, and then a deep, heart-felt sigh.

 

"Pretending to be asleep, pup?" He felt a toe dig into the side of his ribs, and sat up.

 

"No, Master. Yes, Master. Are you angry with me, Master?"

 

"Not yet. Should I be?" Skinner crouched down beside his slave, and Mulder looked into his Master's deep, dark, eyes, and swallowed nervously. Skinner held up a key, and unlocked his slave from the foot of his bed, where Mulder had chained himself in the middle of the night. "Go and make the coffee, and bring it back. Quickly, Fox. We're behind schedule now."

 

"But, Master…" Mulder began.

 

"You can fill me in on the whys and wherefors of how you came to be sleeping in my room when I've got a cup of coffee in my hands. I'm already kind of pissed off to have missed out on my usual wake-up perk, and I definitely don't function well before my morning coffee. Run, slave, and while you're making the coffee, you'd better give some serious thought to how you're going to explain yourself," Skinner warned. Mulder sighed, nodded, and left the room at a run.

 

He wasn't invited into the bed. Somehow that didn't surprise him. He knelt beside the bed while Skinner skimmed the paper, and hastily drank his coffee, then his Master and frowned at him.

 

"All right, pup. The honeymoon's over so we don't have time to linger. Make it quick."

 

"I couldn't sleep, Master," Mulder admitted.

 

"Why?" Skinner looked at him searchingly. Mulder shrugged. "Did you have another nightmare?" Skinner pressed.

 

Mulder bit on his lip. "Not exactly," he confessed.

 

"Hmm." Skinner moved his hand, and Mulder hesitated, then remembered his training, and went down on all fours, pressing his nose into the carpet. "I seem to recall that I gave you permission to come down here only after you'd had a nightmare. Not just if you couldn't sleep."

 

"Yes, Master. I know," Mulder sighed. "The thing is…I knew I'd be able to sleep down here, and I didn't want to screw up today because of being too tired, so…"

 

"So, you thought you finagle a night in your Master's room without paying for it," Skinner finished.

 

"No! Maybe." Mulder made a face. "Jeez, don’t think I don't hate myself for coming over all needy, Master."

 

"Needy? No, that's just the problem, Fox," Skinner said. Mulder looked up in surprise. "If you were needy, I wouldn't have had to insist on you signing that contract - you'd have stuck by my side whether I wanted it or not. Nervy - yes, like a temperamental colt, but not needy. Half your trouble is that you don't see what you need, and you'd have no idea how to get it anyway. That's what I'm here for."

 

"Is it?" Mulder blinked.

 

"Yeah. Now get me the crop, and assume the grace position. Quickly."

 

Mulder did as he was told, and scrambled into position. He had a feeling that this was really going to hurt. He wasn't wrong. Skinner had given him a mild strapping the previous night, his arm, or maybe his heart, clearly not in the task, but this morning he was back on form. The crop landed with awesome precision on his ass, and it was all he could do to keep his position in the wake of the onslaught.

 

"Your litany, please, slave," Skinner demanded.

 

"I'm yours, Master," Mulder yelled.

 

"Just here?" Skinner prompted.

 

"No! Everywhere!" Mulder screeched.

 

"Will you remember that today?"

 

"YES! Oh god yes, I promise!"

 

When Skinner finally finished with him, the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, and his breath was coming in hitching sobs. Skinner clicked his fingers, and Mulder sank gratefully to his knees, and kissed his Master's feet. "Now, remember that even small pleasures require sacrifice," Skinner told him. Then he bent down, and kissed his slave's lips, firmly. "You'll do fine, Fox," he murmured. "And if you don't, your ass will know about it."

 

"Master is…" Mulder began.

 

"Cruel? Tough? Yeah - like I said, boy, the honeymoon's over. Yesterday was about indulgence: me indulging you, and you indulging me. Today, we're back in the front line, back in the office, and you are back to being my subordinate, as well as my slave. You can and will handle it. I'll be with you every step of the way. Now get in the shower." Skinner pointed. Mulder hopped away quickly. Skinner was in a very brisk, very uncompromising mood this morning. Why did he love that so much?

 

Skinner joined him in the shower a second or so later. He pinned his slave against the wall, and held him under the water, then he kissed him again.

 

"Condom," was the first thing he said, when he let Mulder up for air. Mulder put his hand around the edge of the shower curtain, and fumbled his fingers along the shelf above the basin until he found the item in question. He handed it to his Master, then stood there awaiting further instructions. "Turn around," Skinner ordered. Mulder quivered, his cock hardening. Damn but he loved Skinner in full Masterful mode. It was such a turn on. He put his hands against the wall, and opened his legs, thrusting his butt back, ready to receive his Master. He felt Skinner stand behind him, and take his buttocks in his hands, caressing the hot flesh gently. His Master probed one finger into his ass, then two, and Mulder moaned and opened up even more. He gave a cry of sheer bliss as he felt the familiar tip of his Master's hard cock against his opening, then Skinner thrust inside him, up to the hilt, taking his breath away.

 

"Who do you belong to, pup?" Skinner demanded, his chest warm against Mulder's back.

 

"You, Master," Mulder panted.

 

"All right. Remember this moment all day - it should help you concentrate." Skinner's voice had a tone of wry amusement. He then proceeded to thrust into Mulder so hard, and so fast, that the slave thought he'd pass out. The stimulation of his prostate, combined with Skinner's masterful manner, was too much of a turn on for him. "Keep your hands on the wall. You can come but only after me, like a good slave," Skinner commanded, and a second later, he took hold of Mulder's cock and started to pump it in time to the rhythm of his thrusting. Shit, it was good! Mulder put his head back and let the water run down his face, gasping for air. It took all his willpower to hold on until Skinner came a few minutes later, and Mulder had his own climax barely seconds afterwards. They both stood there, panting, for a while, and Mulder enjoyed the sensation of being connected in the aftermath of their mutual pleasure. Then Skinner withdrew. "Okay. What do you have to say to me, boy?" He asked. Mulder swallowed, and went down on his knees in the water.

 

"Thank you, Master. You are such a fucking stallion," Mulder grinned. Skinner frowned, and cuffed the side of his head lightly with the back of his hand.

 

"And you are always just one step away from a taste of my strap on your bare ass. Remember that, slave."

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder allowed himself to wallow in a moment of total adoration, then got up, and began to soap his Master.

 

"Do yourself. I don't want you to ever be late for work on my account," Skinner told him firmly. Mulder nodded, and washed his own body quickly, watching out of the corner of his eye, as Skinner finished, and then handed the shower head to his slave.

 

"Don't you want me to dry you, Master?" he asked, frantically.

 

"No, not today. Dry yourself, then get upstairs and get ready. You're dismissed," Skinner told him curtly.

 

"Yes, Master."

 

Mulder finished washing and drying himself, then scampered back into his Master's bedroom to find Skinner getting his clothes out of his closet. Mulder ran past him, and put one hand on the door, then some devil in him prompted him to turn back. He sidled up to his Master, and kissed the back of his neck, pausing long enough for a quick grope of Skinner's sleek, muscled flesh.

 

"See you in the office, Master," he murmured. Skinner turned with another growl, and swatted him hard on his naked, glowing backside. Mulder yelped. "I love you too, Master," he flung over his shoulder, before beating a hasty retreat. Something told him that it wouldn't be wise to linger.

 

He didn't see Skinner again before he went to work. He didn't know whether he left the apartment before his Master or after him. He put on one of the new shirts and ties Skinner had bought him, and examined himself in the mirror. He looked fine. Crisp white shirt, tasteful navy tie. His Master would approve. Mulder grinned at his reflection, grabbed his keys and cellphone, then let himself out of the apartment and ran along to the elevator. He felt alive! He had never gone into work feeling so completely alive before in his life. He just felt so damn good!

 

Mulder took the metro to work. His butt was stinging nicely, and at least he could spend the entire journey standing to give it time to recover. He breezed into the Hoover building, waved a cheery hello to anyone he recognized, and laughed when most of them looked over their shoulders, wondering if he was waving at someone else. He sauntered along the corridor, couldn't be bothered to wait for the elevator to take him down, and took the stairs two at a time instead. He paused for a moment outside the door to the basement, and then put out his hand to open it…and froze. Shit! The ring! Scully would see it and ask him all kinds of questions. What the hell was he going to tell her? Mulder went back and perched on the bottom step of the staircase for a moment, thinking it through.

 

He could tell her that he just got married. No, asshole, she'd be hurt that you didn't tell her you were dating!

 

Well, he could tell her it was a sudden thing - he just met someone and married them in the space of one week. No, asshole, then she'd ask you lots of questions about your new wife and insist on meeting her!

 

Okay. He could tell her…that he was sick and tired of being chatted up and this was to keep the vultures away. Yeah, right. How many times has she ever seen you being chatted up? That is so convincing, lame-brain.

 

Okay, how about…how about I tell her the truth? Mulder's withering internal voice didn't even bother to snort in disgust at that suggestion.

 

Okay…how about…

 

The door to the basement office suddenly opened. Mulder felt his life flash in front of him, and in a split second made his decision. He took the wedding ring off, shuffled it swiftly into his pocket, then got to his feet and smiled a falsely cheerful grin just as Scully stepped into the corridor.

 

"Oh, hi, Mulder," she said absently, flicking through a file. "Have a good vacation?"

 

"Fantastic," he breathed.

 

She looked up sharply. "It must have been good. My god, what's happened to you?" She asked incredulously.

 

"What do you mean?" Mulder looked down. Were his nipple rings showing through his shirt? No, that was impossible - he'd worn a vest underneath on purpose to hide them. Had Scully suddenly developed X-ray vision? Could she see through his pants? Had she somehow caught a glimpse of his cock ring?

 

"You! My god!" Scully circled around him, then gave a low whistle. "You look so…clean. And well dressed, and…Mulder - are you glowing?" She asked suspiciously. Mulder flushed. Only my ass, Scully.

 

"No. Only pregnant women glow, Scully. Everyone knows that," he told her loftily, disappearing into his office.

 

"Mulder! You're not pregnant are you?" She teased, following him in.

 

"Ha, ha. Very funny. No, I'm not." He flicked a paper clip at her.

 

"Then you must be in love," Scully said firmly. He looked up, too quickly. "You are in love! I knew it. Tell me everything." She perched herself on the side of the desk and looked at him expectantly.

 

"There's nothing to tell. You've been reading too many romances," he said, glancing nonchalantly around his office. Oh, it was good to be back! He went over to his filing cabinets and delved into his beloved X Files. "I missed you babies," he crooned to them.

 

Scully rolled her eyes. "They didn't miss you, Mulder. You should take a vacation more often. It obviously agrees with you."

 

"Yeah. Maybe. It wasn't so bad after all," Mulder said softly.

 

"I'm pleased. When you left here last Friday, you were so nervy I thought you were going to your doom or something. It obviously turned out better than you expected."

 

"Yes." Mulder glanced at her, a shy smile on his lips. "Yes, it did, Scully. It did." He took a bundle of files out of the cabinet, and dumped them on his desk.

 

"What are you looking for?" Scully frowned.

 

"People who undergo transforming sexual experiences," he grinned at her.

 

She put her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, Mulder. You're on your own with that one." She walked back to her desk, and he sat down with a sigh, then gave a yelp and jumped right up again.

 

"Problem?" Scully raised a quizzical eyebrow.

 

"Uh, no. I'd just, um…forgotten how hard these Bureau seats are." Mulder smiled feebly at her.

 

She raised her other eyebrow. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Mulder?" She asked. "I mean first of all you come in here looking like…like…Skinner or something, all crisp and clean - not that you're normally dirty, just that now you're almost sparkling. Then you talk about pregnancy and transforming sexual experiences, and now you're jumping around as if you have ants in your pants…a girl has to wonder, Mulder."

 

"I'm fine," he said firmly, seating himself back at his desk gingerly. "Never better in fact."

 

"That's good." She smiled sweetly, and handed him a note. "Because Skinner called just before you got here. He wants to see us both in ten minutes. Mulder? Hello?"

 

Mulder banged his head on the desk. Ten minutes. You'd think his Master could have given him longer than that to adjust to all this, although he couldn't blame the man for wanting to check up on him so soon. Ten minutes. Ten minutes until he had to sit in the same room as his Master, with Scully by his side, and pretend that they hadn't just spanked, screwed, and sucked their way through an entire week. Mulder came out in a cold sweat.

 

He spent the next ten minutes searching frantically around his office for the reports he had been working on before he went away. He had almost forgotten about them, and Skinner would be bound to ask. He found them under a pile of junk mail, and a dozen or more inter-office memorandums which he threw straight into the trash with his usual disdain for such things. He skimmed through the files quickly, trying to remember the salient points about the cases. Luckily his eidetic memory kicked in, and he was astonished how quickly he snapped back into work mode.

 

"Did you finish the medical evidence on these?" He asked Scully. She nodded, and handed him another file. He looked through it, fascinated by her findings. "I said you'd find evidence of Alzheimer's in the brain tissue, Scully," he told her.

 

"Yes, Mulder. And you are always right, Mulder." Scully made a face at him.

 

"Well I am!" He grinned. "Well, about this kind of stuff anyway."

 

"It's time." She glanced at her watch, and finished her coffee.

 

"Damn. I'm not quite up to speed…" Mulder got to his feet, flicking through the file frantically.

 

"Don't sweat it, partner!" Scully opened the door for him, and pushed him through. "Skinner knows you've been on vacation. Hey, Skinner's been on vacation too, so he's probably got some catching up to do as well."

 

"Right. Good." Mulder put a finger under the collar of his starched new shirt, and loosened it slightly.

 

They waited for a couple of minutes in Kim's office, while Skinner finished a call, and Mulder paced, anxiously.

 

"Mulder!" Scully stared at him. "Calm down. You didn't go off investigating something while on vacation did you?" She asked suspiciously. "There's nothing going on here that I don't know about is there?"

 

"Um, no I didn't go out investigating, Scully. I took a vacation, like I said I was going to," Mulder protested. "In fact, I hardly went out anywhere all week." That was true enough. "I was a slave to the chores and the apartment." He grinned at his own little joke. Scully didn't have time to reply, as Kim's buzzer went, and they were nodded into Skinner's office.

 

Scully went first, and Mulder's heart nearly stood still as he caught his first glimpse of his Master back in his more familiar domain. Skinner was wearing one of the crisp white shirts that Mulder had ironed, and he looked devastatingly, dangerously…deadly. His Master's eyes flickered over Mulder as if he were nothing more than…one of his agents. Which he was of course. Just keep moving, asshole. Don't do anything stupid. Mulder shuffled nervously over to one of the chairs in front of Skinner's desk, and sat down.

 

"Welcome back, Agent Mulder," Skinner said urbanely. "I trust you had a good vacation?"

 

Mulder swallowed convulsively, willing his vocal chords to work. "Yes, sir," he managed to croak. "The best I've ever had, actually." He glanced up at his Master from under his eyelashes, and saw the faintest flicker of a knowing smile in Skinner's dark, shielded eyes.

 

"Good."

 

"I hear you were on vacation too." Mulder sat back in his chair, and relaxed slightly.

 

"That's right." Skinner took the file Scully was handing to him, and opened it. He didn't give any more information than that on his vacation, much to Mulder's disappointment. He thought it had been good for Skinner too, but maybe it hadn't. Maybe Skinner had trained better, cuter, more obedient, and sexually insatiable slaves in his time. Maybe Mulder had just been another in a long line of people willing to do his Master's laundry. God knows, there had never been a time when Skinner hadn't worn those exquisitely ironed shirts, so he probably had a conveyor belt of slaves, constantly doing his washing. When one moved out, another one just moved straight in.

 

"Agent Mulder." Skinner's voice broke into this bleak internal reverie.

 

"Yeah. What?" He growled back. Scully gave him a surprised look, clearly startled by his tone.

 

"You were writing me some reports too?" Skinner prompted.

 

"They're not finished." Mulder snapped.

 

"Did you bring what you have?" Skinner asked mildly, his dark eyes boring into Mulder.

 

"No. You hate receiving unfinished reports," Mulder told him, sulkily.

 

"A progress report is acceptable."

 

"Okay." Mulder shrugged.

 

"Do you have anything further to add to Agent Scully's report?" Skinner pressed.

 

"Yes - it's clear that with this advanced level of Alzheimer's, the perp could not have committed these crimes…" Mulder began. Then his eyes flickered away from his boss, and skimmed over the briefcase that was on the floor beside his desk. His throat when dry. He recognized that briefcase! It was his briefcase. The one with all the special, Fox-engraved implements in it…Skinner had brought it here! Mulder's throat dried up in horror. Surely, surely, Skinner didn't intend to use them on him in the office? Please, god, no!

 

"Agent Mulder?" Skinner was looking concerned. "Would you like a glass of water?"

 

"Uh, yes…please…" he whispered. Scully got up, poured Mulder some water, and handed it to him. He took it, and gulped it down thankfully. It was only as he placed the glass back on the table that he realized he wasn't wearing his ring.

 

SHIT!

 

Mulder felt his whole world collapse around his ears. Why hadn't he put the ring back on for the meeting? Why had he forgotten?

 

FUCK!

 

He pulled his hands back quickly, and covered his left one with the right, hiding it from sight.

 

"Your theory?" Skinner asked pleasantly.

 

"My theory…" Mulder's eyes shifted back to the briefcase, while his fingers nervously caressed the place where his missing ring should have been. Please god, don't let him have noticed. Please! "…is that, um, in his weakened condition, the perp's body was taken over, and inhabited by a being, or beings who committed these crimes in his place," Mulder gabbled. There was no good way to expound this particular theory, so he didn't bother dressing it up in more acceptable language.

 

"I see. In other words, the perp was possessed," Skinner commented, neutrally.

 

"Um. Yes." Mulder went red.

 

"By what? Or whom?" Skinner asked.

 

"Evil spirits?" Mulder shrugged, trying manfully to drag his eyes away from the briefcase.

 

"Right." Skinner nodded, then glanced at Scully. "And the scientific viewpoint would be, Agent Scully?"

 

She smiled. "Sometimes people with Alzheimer's regress to a point in their past when they were younger, and stronger, and they experience that as their current reality. I would suggest that's what happened here."

 

"Good. Thank you." Skinner smiled at her. Hah! Yeah, trust him to go along with the scientific viewpoint, Mulder thought bitterly. "Tell me, Agent Scully, were there any identifying signs on the perp's body? You're sure we've got the right person?" Skinner asked. Scully raised an eyebrow. It was a pertinent question but she'd covered it in her report.

 

"Yes, sir. He was wearing a distinctively engraved wedding ring," she said. Mulder's heart sank. He looked up into Skinner's dark, impassive eyes. His Master stared back, coolly.

 

"I see. He still wore his wedding ring even though you say his wife passed away…" Skinner flicked through the file, "ten years previously. How devoted of him." He glanced at Mulder with a look of pure ice. "Some people only have to be in a committed relationship for five minutes before they forget their devotion, and are only too happy to discard the visible symbols of the vows they've made." Mulder felt the ground open up and swallow him. He'd noticed! Oh, god, now he was in such deep shit. "Well, agents, I think that's all." Skinner handed them the file, which Scully took, with a smile. She got up, and Mulder found himself numbly following her to the door, his legs functioning on auto-pilot. He almost got there. He was so nearly safe, so close to freedom. He actually had his hand on the door, and one foot outside the office, when Skinner reeled him back in, like a fish on the end of a line.

 

"Agent Mulder." Skinner's voice was silkily smooth, but Mulder wasn't fooled. He froze, took a deep breath, then turned back. "I'd like a private word with you, if I may. You can go, Agent Scully." He smiled at her over Mulder's shoulder. "I have a little task for Agent Mulder. He might be some time." Mulder's heart, already inhabiting the pit of his stomach, now fled into his shoes. He sent Scully a desperate, telepathic plea for help, which she clearly didn't receive, as she just smiled, and continued on her way, leaving him all alone with certain death. Mulder shut the door quietly, and turned around.

 

"Before you say anything - I can explain!" He said desperately.

 

"All right." Skinner sat back, expectantly. "But this had better be more convincing that 'I was drugged', Fox."

 

"That was the truth!" Mulder protested. Skinner raised an eyebrow. Mulder decided that now was not the best moment to go into that particular event. "Look, I'm sorry." Mulder walked back to the desk, and stood in front of his Master. "I know I shouldn't have taken the ring off, but I didn't want to upset Scully."

 

"Why would you wearing a ring upset your partner?" Skinner frowned.

 

"I just figured she'd be upset I hadn't told her I'd got married!"

 

"All right. Why didn't you raise this issue with me?" Skinner asked.

 

"I forgot!" Mulder protested desperately.

 

"You've had a while week to bring this up, Fox. One factor in our relationship was most definitely not negotiable, and I made that very clear. Your ring stays on at all times. In fact, all your rings stay on at all times, unless I remove them."

 

"Why? You don't have to wear a goddamn ring!" Mulder growled in protest.

 

"I'm not a slave. You are," Skinner replied pointedly. "And I'm not arguing about this. You knew the rules." He clicked his fingers. Mulder stared at him.

 

"Not here. I mean…" Mulder glanced around the office nervously. "I mean…Kim's next door," he whispered.

 

"Yes, she is. So you'll have to keep quiet. Now, are you going to obey me, or do I have to make you." Skinner got to his feet, and Mulder sank to his knees without further protest. He wasn't stupid. "Good. Now go and get the briefcase." Skinner pointed. Mulder crawled to retrieve the case, and presented it to his Master.

 

"I still can't believe that you brought this here," Mulder whined.

 

Skinner raised an eyebrow, and glanced at his watch. "Fox, it's 8:54 a.m. You've lasted less than half an hour before requiring correction. I think it's a good thing I did bring this in," Skinner said coolly. He loosened Mulder's tie, then undid the top button of his shirt, and reached inside. Mulder closed his eyes as Skinner retrieved the key to the briefcase, and opened it. His Master gave him an assessing look for several seconds, his fingers touching each implement in turn as he considered the matter. Then he pulled out the strap. Mulder's heart sank out of his body and down into the very foundations of the building. "Open your mouth," Skinner said unexpectedly.

 

"My mouth…?" Mulder had no sooner opened it to speak, than Skinner stuck the strap between his lips. "Now, follow me," Skinner said. "You can walk."

 

Mulder got up, feeling ridiculous with the strap in his mouth, and walked across the room. Skinner opened the door to his en-suite bathroom, and turned the light on, then he put down the lid on the toilet seat.

 

"Kneel," he instructed. Mulder obeyed, glumly. "Undo your pants, and bend over the seat," Skinner commanded. Mulder looked up at him, with a mute plea. Skinner raised an eyebrow. Mulder sighed, and obeyed. "Good."

 

Mulder felt Skinner's hands tug his trousers and boxers down to his knees, leaving his butt exposed. He moaned, softly, but he had to admit that he found the idea of being punished in his Master's office a turn-on. He looked up at Skinner expectantly, waiting for his Master to take the strap out of his mouth, but he didn't.

 

"Now, I have a meeting in a couple of minutes. I expect it'll last an hour or so. You'll wait there, butt up in the air, until I have the time, and inclination, to give you what you deserve. Use the time wisely, Fox, and don't move. I'm sure I don't need to tell you not to make any noise either - not unless you want your fellow agents to come and take a look at what I'm keeping in my bathroom. I'm sure that they'd find it a most amusing sight - Agent Mulder, ass up over the toilet seat, with a strap in his mouth, awaiting punishment." Mulder gave a deep, heartfelt groan. It was both excruciating, and fiendish. Only his Master could have come up with something like this. He tried to speak but only succeeded in muttering a muffled, garbled sentence. Skinner removed the strap from his mouth and looked at him expectantly.

 

"What if someone wants to use the bathroom, Master?" Mulder squeaked.

 

"You'd better hope they don't." Skinner put the strap back in his mouth, and pushed Mulder's head down so that he was looking at the tiled floor. "An hour, Fox. Think about how much you hurt my feelings with your behavior, and how disobedience is always punished. Your bare, exposed butt, offered up for my attention should serve as a reminder."

 

Mulder bit down on the strap to avoid making a smart reply, and Skinner delivered a swat to his ass with his hand. "Don't ruin that strap, boy - I don't expect to see teeth marks on it," he warned, and then he left the bathroom, leaving the door ajar behind him.

 

Mulder knelt there for a long while, still reeling from this turn of events. This could not be happening to him. It couldn't! He could not be kneeling in Assistant Director Skinner's private office bathroom, ass exposed to the world, with a strap in his mouth awaiting punishment. Just over a week ago, the very idea would have been unthinkable. Shit! How the hell had this happened? Something that Skinner had said stayed in his mind though. "Think about how much you hurt my feelings…" He had never intended that. He should have realized how much his Master enjoyed seeing visible symbols of his ownership on his slave's body. He'd mentioned it enough times over the past week after all, and the wedding ring was the only visible symbol when Mulder was fully dressed. Mulder sighed. He had screwed up and he hated that Skinner might have been made upset rather than angry by his actions.

 

Mulder stiffened, hearing sounds in the office behind him. His whole body tingled in nervous anticipation, as he heard Skinner greet a couple of agents, and instruct them to sit. Mulder tensed, and stayed tensed for a good ten minutes. Shit, supposing one of them wanted to use the bathroom? Supposing he dropped the strap - his jaw was already aching. Supposing he moved, and made a noise? His tense muscles were making him shake with the effort of staying in position. Surely Skinner wouldn't know if he moved into a sitting position, would he? How could he know if Mulder took the strap out of his mouth? Mulder thought about it for a second, then came to a decision. He slowly, silently, removed the strap, and placed it gently on the floor, then he turned around, oh so carefully…and froze.

 

Skinner had left the door ajar on purpose. From where he sat at his desk, the interior of the bathroom was clearly visible - although the angle would have made it impossible for anyone sitting facing him to see in. Mulder crossed his fingers behind his back. If he moved very slowly back into his original position it might not be too…damn! Busted. Skinner's eyes suddenly flicked in his direction. The big man's expression didn't change, but his gaze lingered just long enough to make it clear to Mulder that he'd been seen. Mulder sat on the floor, wretchedly, trying to come to a decision. This wasn't helped by the fact that his cock seemed to have found the whole event a complete turn-on and was now starting to harden. Inside he was terrified though. He was in enough trouble as it was, without making things worse for himself. How do you always manage to do that, asshole?

 

Finally, deciding that he could at least repair some of the damage by returning to his original position, Mulder turned around, and arranged himself back over the toilet seat. He picked up the strap, and placed it in his mouth, then raised his butt so that it was once more in Skinner's line of sight. Enjoy the view, Master, you mean son of a bitch.

 

Mulder didn't think he'd ever spent a worse hour in his life. Each second trickled by slowly, and his muscles seized up with the effort of staying in position. The strap smelt divine but it didn't exactly taste good, and he was petrified that it would drop out of his mouth, onto the tiled floor. He listened with one ear as Skinner discussed tedious expense reports, and for a brief second pitied his Master for having to spend his days in such boring pastimes. No wonder he wanted a slave on the premises to take his frustrations out on. No, that was definitely not a good thought. Mulder was painfully aware of his ass, waiting naked for its inevitable punishment. Very soon, this strap, which he knew stung like hell, would be tormenting his poor, exposed butt. Mulder wished he could sigh, but he was too scared of making any noise.

 

Finally, the interminable meeting came to an end, and Mulder heard the other agents leave the room, and Skinner murmuring something to Kim. Then he heard heavy footsteps crossing the office in his direction. His stomach started to do that series of flips that it always did when he knew he was in trouble. The door was pushed open, and then shut, and locked, and Mulder looked up into his Master's stern, dark eyes.

 

"Is it too much to expect you to be obedient in even the most minor matters?" Skinner asked him. "Do you take any aspect of your slavery seriously? Or is it all just a game to you? Is your servitude, something you offered up freely to me, so worthless? Merely something you pay lip service to - to be ignored whenever you think you aren't being watched? Well?" Skinner folded his arms over his chest and waited for an answer. Mulder knelt up, and took the strap out of his mouth.

 

"I'm sorry, Master, but how the hell was I suppose to keep still for a whole hour?" He demanded.

 

"Fox, if I told you to fly to the moon I'd expect you to at least try," Skinner riposted, hands on hips. Mulder opened his mouth to make a smart reply, then closed it again, sensing that he was on very dangerous ground. "All right - you're in trouble, boy. Big trouble. Now, give me that strap and get back over the toilet seat. And Fox?" Skinner took the strap from his hapless slave, and Mulder looked up at him, glumly. "Don't count on being able to sit comfortably for the rest of the day," Skinner warned. Mulder gave his Master a look of intense dislike, and then, grudgingly arranged himself over the toilet seat. "All right. What lesson will you learn from this?" Skinner asked, holding the strap over Mulder's exposed butt, caressing the leather against his flesh in a way that made his slave moan in scared anticipation.

 

"To obey you, Master."

 

"Well, I'm not holding my breath on that score, but yes. And?" Skinner prompted.

 

"To talk to you about what's going on in my head, Master," Mulder said with a sigh.

 

"Good." Skinner laid the first stroke across Mulder's butt, and he gave a strangled yelp as the pain kicked in. Damn but that strap stung! "Here." Skinner paused, and gave Mulder a clean, freshly starched handkerchief. Mulder stuffed it into his mouth, with a hitching sob, glancing up at his Master out of the corner of his eye to see if his distress would earn him a reprieve. It didn't. Skinner pushed him back down and proceeded to tan his hide thoroughly, and efficiently with the strap until Mulder squirmed, his long arms waving like a windmill as he tried to stay still and take his punishment. Finally, Skinner let him up, and gestured to him to kneel in front of him. He took the handkerchief out of Mulder's mouth, and used it to gently wipe his slave's tear-stained cheeks, then he took Mulder's face between his hands, and looked down at him.

 

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked, softly.

 

"I dunno, Master." Mulder shrugged.

 

"Where's the ring?" Skinner held out his hand, and Mulder reached in his pocket and handed the wedding ring over. "Fox, this isn't just a piece of metal to me. It's a lot more than that." Skinner took Mulder's left hand, and kissed it, tenderly. "I'd like it to mean a lot more than that to you, but it's clear that it doesn't."

 

"It does!" Mulder protested. Skinner's disappointment was harder to bear than all the punishments in the world. "Master, I'm yours. I've given myself to you and I wear all your symbols with pride. You have no idea…no idea at all how much they mean to me," Mulder choked.

 

"Good - because you have no idea how much you mean to me," Skinner told him quietly. He pushed the ring gently back onto Mulder's finger, before reaching down and helping the other man to stand. Then he took Mulder in his arms, and kissed him firmly on the lips. Mulder hung there, in his Master's grasp, wanting to hate him for strapping him so hard, but succeeding only in melting against that big body, and holding on to that solidly muscled form. Skinner released him, and was immediately back to his business-like persona.

 

"Get dressed, Fox, and get those reports to me as soon as possible," he ordered.

 

"Yes, Master." Mulder pulled his boxers and pants gingerly over his backside. Skinner looked at his bobbing cock, and shook his head.

 

"Fox - if you go and relieve that particular ache in the men's room, then the strapping I just gave you will seem like a walk in the park. Understand me? I don't want you playing with my toys, or there'll be less left for me later."

 

Mulder sighed. "Is there even the faintest possibility that you will ever give me the slightest break?" He asked.

 

"No." Skinner grinned, then he put a big arm around the younger man, and hugged him. "So, tell me," he whispered, directly into Mulder's ear as he escorted him out of the bathroom, "how long have you had this fantasy about being disciplined in my office?"

 

Mulder went red. "Since the very first day I sat in front of that big head-fuck of a desk of yours, while you made me wait like a schoolboy as you read my first report," he replied.

 

"That long?" Skinner raised an amused eyebrow.

 

"Yeah. I have a desk fetish - did I ever tell you that, Master? And a ruler fetish - you kept slapping your ruler against one of your hands in a way that gave me a hard-on so bad I had to pick up a file to hide it."

 

"A desk fetish, hmm?" Skinner shook his head. "Ah, my insatiable little slave. You'll be the death of me yet," he sighed.

 

"And how long have you wanted to hand out some office discipline?" Mulder asked with a sly grin. "Don't tell me that never crossed your mind before."

 

"It never crossed my mind before I had to deal with you, that's for sure," Skinner growled, landing a swat on Mulder's sore backside that made his slave yelp. "Now, get out of my office, boy, and try and behave for the rest of the day." He opened his office door, and ushered Mulder out. "And Agent Mulder - I have a meeting with you and the other department heads at 2.30. Don't be late."

 

"No, sir!" Mulder shook his head vigorously.

 

Mulder ran down the stairs and back into his office, whistling to himself. His butt ached, but somehow his Master's kisses had made everything better. Scully was busy working on her report and he was eager to get to work on his. His ingenious brain was filled to the brim with facts relating to the perp with Alzheimer's and he wanted to get them down and move on to the next case. He perched gingerly in front of his computer, and logged on to the Internet, tracking down some obscure facts about the disease, and saving them to incorporate into his report. A sudden thought occurred to him. His fascination with his Master's mysterious past was always bubbling away in his mind, and now they were back at work there seemed to be even more of a curious dichotomy here. It was hard to reconcile hard-assed, tightly controlled Assistant Director Skinner with the sensualist owner of that 18th floor Playroom, and Mulder was burned up with curiosity on the subject. He shelved his research into Alzheimer's, and went into the records of previous owners of the apartment that was his new home. It took him an hour or so of diligent study, but then he found his answer: Skinner hadn't bought either the 17th or the 18th floor apartments. He'd inherited them a few years previously. Mulder scrolled through the information eagerly, and found that Skinner's mysterious benefactor had been a man called Andrew Linker. So far, so good. Mulder filed the name away for future reference, and looked up, feeling hungry…only to find Scully staring at him, both eyebrows raised sky high.

 

"So, Mulder, who's the lucky lady and where did you spend the honeymoon?" She asked.

 

"What?" Mulder frowned, then he remembered the ring. "Oh this?" He grinned, pointing to the ring and affecting nonchalance. "It's just a…" he racked his brains, and blurted out the first thing that came into his head, "a bet!" he said triumphantly. Scully's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and showed no signs of ever reappearing. "Um…yeah, I lost a bet with a friend, and the penalty was wearing this for a month," he told her. It sounded stupid even to his own ears.

 

"Uh huh." She crossed her arms over her chest, and waited. Mulder searched desperately for those eyebrows but they had clearly decided to go for a trek over the top of her head and down the back of her skull.

 

"Okay…the truth… the truth is…" Mulder hesitated, and went with one of his earlier options. "I was getting sick of being hit upon the whole time, you know. I thought the ring might keep the vultures at bay."

 

"What?" Scully frowned. Mulder's heart sank. "Well, I've noticed that you get looked at a lot, partner, but I didn't realize you had a problem with that. To be honest, I wasn't sure you'd even noticed. I've seen some women, and even the occasional man," she gave him a sly grin, "try and chat you up, but it passes you right by."

 

"When?" Mulder asked blankly. "When did that happen?" Then he realized he'd blown that cover story too.

 

Scully sighed. "Come on, Mulder - why are you really wearing a wedding ring? Did you get married?"

 

"No." Mulder said, grateful that much was the truth at least.

 

"Then why?"

 

Mulder sighed, running out of options. "Okay, but you won't like it," he warned.

 

"Just spit it out, partner!" She cried, clearly exasperated.

 

Mulder took a deep breath. She was his friend, right? And friends were supposed to be supportive about this kind of stuff. Okay, so it was a lot to hit her with all in one go, but she deserved the truth. "All right," he began, looking studiously at his own feet to avoid her searching stare. "There's some stuff you don't know about me. Basically…I, um, I'm into the BDSM scene, and I just, uh, sold myself into slavery and last week I was being, um, trained which is why I took a vacation. So now I belong to someone and that's why I wear the ring to signify that I'm owned and therefore not…um, available." He ran out of steam, and looked up to see what the reaction was.

 

"Uh huh." He hated it when she said that in that special tone of voice. "I see." She gave him her patented Scully "look" and he squirmed. "And, uh, how long have you known this, um new owner of yours?" She was one step away from giggling. He could tell.

 

"A long time." Mulder went an interesting shade of brick red.

 

"And is she attractive?" Scully pressed.

 

"Very…but, uh, she's not a she." Mulder winced, and waited for the reaction. Scully put her head on one side and gazed at him quizzically.

 

"She's an alien?" She asked.

 

"I wish!" Mulder shook his head ruefully. "No, I mean, that is…my new owner is a man. I have a…Master."

 

You could have heard a pin drop.

 

"Right." Scully said in a tone that implied she didn't believe a word of it but was going to indulge him in the fantasy anyway. Mulder heaved a sigh of relief and took a deep gulp of his now cold coffee. "Okay, Mulder. So, tell me about this training of yours. Did your, uh, master, give you a slave name?"

 

Mulder's coffee went down the wrong way and he choked, then coughed energetically onto his desk. "What…" he rasped feebly after several minutes, "do you know about slave names, Scully?"

 

"I'm not a complete innocent, Mulder." She gave him an infuriating wink, and he stared at her mesmerized. His Scully. His lovely Scully - surely she wasn't into the lifestyle? An image of her in a tight corset waving a whip sprang into his mind and he dismissed it. Not his Scully. He'd know if she played on the scene anyway - he'd gone through all the tops around, male and female, until he'd fetched up in Skinner's lap, so to speak. "So, come on, what's your slave name?"

 

"It's Fox," he told her weakly.

 

"Fox?" Her eyebrows went on another of their mountaineering expeditions into the far reaches of her hair. "Isn't that a bit unoriginal, Mulder? Or doesn't your master have much of an imagination?"

 

"Well, it's not that." Mulder shifted uncomfortably. "It's more like an exquisite form of torture, Scully. You see, he knows I hate my name, and to have your slave name be your real name is kind of cruel as well. Sort of the ultimate humiliation, so that's why he chose Fox. I didn't have any say in the matter."

 

"I see." She nodded. "So does your master spank you, Mulder?" He could see that she was enjoying every second of this game. She thought she was calling his bluff, when in actual fact every word he'd told her was the truth. Mulder couldn't help but appreciate the irony, and he laughed out loud.

 

"Yeah, Scully. He spanks me good - but only when I'm bad," he winked at her.

 

"Oh dear. Your poor master. His right arm must ache then," she mused. He glared at her, and she burst out laughing. "Oh, Mulder, honestly, you could have come up with something more realistic than this cock and bull story!" she exclaimed. "I don't care about the ring, Mulder. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine - it's none of my business, but you could have just said that," she told him reprovingly. He sighed, and nodded. Jeez - she was worse than Skinner on this whole honesty issue. "You haven't forgotten that we're having lunch together, have you, Mulder?" She asked him.

 

"No," he grinned. "My treat." It was the least he could do, and it was Skinner's money anyway - he'd use the credit card his Master had given him.

 

"You're on!" She grinned back. "Slaveboy!" She added as an afterthought. Mulder cringed inside. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea telling her the truth after all. She seemed to be enjoying the whole joke immensely. On the other hand - it was good to see her so happy. He was so content himself, in his new life, and his new living arrangement that he could hardly begrudge her a little bit of fun at his expense.

 

The telephone interrupted them. Mulder picked it up.

 

"Yo! Slaveboys R Us!" he announced, grinning at Scully who gave him a thumbs up sign.

 

"Mulder - long time, no talk," a voice on the other end of the line purred. Mulder sat down heavily, ignoring the streak of pain that shot through his body as his sore backside made contact with the chair. Krycek.

 

"What do you want?" he hissed.

 

"That's no way to greet an old friend."

 

"You're no friend of mine."

 

"I could be though. I have information you might like to hear." Mulder glanced at Scully. She'd returned to her report, although she was obviously listening to this conversation with half an ear.

 

"It's about your sister," Krycek murmured, in sibilant tones.

 

It was a trap. It had to be a trap. Krycek knew that the one way to lure him anywhere was to mention Samantha. He had a pavlovian response to her name. He thought about Scully, and her dead sister, about his own dead father. You can't trust this man, Mulder, he told himself. You can't. "Remember I gave you that information about the black oil," Krycek told him, sounding like the devil himself in his efforts to tempt Mulder.

 

"No." Mulder snapped. "I'm not playing this game with you."

 

"We could arrange to meet," Krycek ignored him. "She's fine - safe and well. A… mutual acquaintance of ours visited her last week. He took me along as his driver. Don't you want to know where she's living?"

 

Mulder closed his eyes, and counted to ten. He remembered Skinner telling him only yesterday that Mulder knew the kind of behavior his Master would approve of, and what he wouldn't. He had been ordered to go and speak to Skinner if he was in any doubt. He wasn't in any doubt though, and he knew what Skinner would say - he would tell him it was too risky.

 

"No," he said, finally, through great effort of will. "This time I'm not biting," and he slammed the phone down. A sense of euphoria flooded through his veins. He'd done the right thing. His Master would be proud of him. That didn't still the tiny, nagging voice at the back of his mind though. Supposing Krycek had been telling the truth? Supposing his sister was out there, just waiting for him to find her?

 

"Mulder?" Scully was looking at him with concerned blue eyes.

 

"It's okay." He gave her a half smile. "Hey - isn't it time for lunch, partner?"

 

Mulder took Scully to an expensive Italian restaurant nearby. He talked too much, trying to distract himself from thinking about Krycek's phone call, but he knew he sounded like he'd taken speed. He was gabbling, and not making a lot of sense. Scully was giving him one of her worried looks, and he could see she was wearing her 'Dr. Scully' hat.

 

"Slow down, Mulder." She put her hand gently over his. "Is there something worrying you?" She asked him.

 

"No. Why should there be? Do you like that sparkling water? I could get you still, or how about a diet coke?"

 

"This is fine. Mulder…if you can't talk to me, perhaps you could talk to…" Her eyes flickered over his wedding ring. "The person who gave you that," she finished.

 

Mulder bit on his lip. "I said, I'm fine. I'm great. Hey, tell me how work was last week without me to keep you entertained." He sat back in his chair, and tried to stop fidgeting.

 

"Quiet. I missed you." She smiled. "But you needed the break and you're looking terrific, Mulder. Seriously - this, uh, master of yours is clearly doing you good." Her lips twisted up at the side, as if she wasn't sure whether this was a game or not.

 

"Thanks." He took a sip of his own water and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror opposite. He looked rested, and his skin was…well Scully was right - he did look 'glowing'. It must be love…

 

It was so good to be back with Scully again that Mulder started to relax. They talked for longer than they should have done, and overshot their lunch hour. Mulder looked around for a waiter so he could call for the check…and then froze. A familiar face loomed into his vision. Green eyes sparkled at him, and Krycek's mouth twisted into a grin of greeting. He was sitting at a table across the restaurant, just watching…and waiting. It was too much for Mulder. He got to his feet, angrily.

 

"Mulder?" Scully looked at him in surprise.

 

"Go back to work. I'll see you later," he told her.

 

"Mulder…the check…I didn't bring any money!" She protested.

 

"Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out all the cash Skinner had given to him - he didn't have time to wait for the credit card to be processed. Then he turned and ran.

 

Krycek had already disappeared by the time he got to the door of the restaurant. Mulder pulled it open and ran outside, and down the street. A car pulled up in front of him, and the door opened.

 

"Get in." Krycek was the only occupant of the car. Mulder weighed it up, looked up and down the street, and then did what they both knew he was going to do anyway. He got in.

 

"What's the deal, Krycek?" Mulder drew his gun and held it pointed at the other man. Krycek grinned.

 

"Use that and you'll never find her," he said.

 

"Where is she?"

 

"I can't tell you." Krycek grinned again. Mulder grabbed him by the collar, nearly resulting in the car going off the road. Krycek shoved Mulder away.

 

"You told me you knew where she was," Mulder snarled.

 

"I did. She's been moved," Krycek shrugged. "My…employer moves her around a lot. She's important to them. Something to do with the virus they're developing."

 

"They're experimenting on her?" Mulder closed his eyes, and tried to remember to breathe.

 

"Yes. They've been experimenting upon her for years. Poor kid."

 

"Don't. If this isn't true, don't do this," Mulder said, in a broken tone.

 

"Sorry, old friend, but it's true," Krycek said softly. "Look - I don't like it either. She's had a tough life."

 

"Where was she when you last saw her?" Mulder demanded.

 

"California." Krycek handed him a piece of paper, with an address on it. "Check it out if you want, but you won't find her there, and there won't be any clues as to where she's gone. This is just a gesture of good faith, from me to you, so that you know I'm telling the truth." He stopped the car abruptly, in a quiet street, and turned to face Mulder. "I'm ideally placed to find out more," he said. "When I do, you'll know about it." Then he leaned over, opened the door, and pushed Mulder out onto the road. "I'll be in touch," were his last words before the car screeched away. It could have been a threat, or a promise. Mulder wasn't sure which.

 

Mulder found himself miles from the Hoover building without any cash. He sank his hands deep into his pockets and began the slow walk back to work.

 

It was almost 3 when he got there. He jogged the last couple of miles, but even so, he knew that he was dead meat. Skinner had warned him not to be late for the meeting, and now he would ask him a lot of questions about why he was late, and Mulder wasn't in any mood to answer them, knowing as he did that he'd just get into even worse trouble. He ran up the stairs and burst into Skinner's office to find his Master talking quietly to a group of agents.

 

"Ah, Agent Mulder. Good of you to join us." Skinner's unerring eyes took in his disheveled appearance, without giving any hint of what he was thinking, but Mulder knew. He knew his Master well enough by now to know that he was in deep shit. "Sit down." Skinner gestured with his hand, and Mulder went and plunked himself into the vacant chair, only to jump up again as his painful buttocks reminded him of the whipping he'd received up here just a few hours ago.

 

"Problem, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked him.

 

"No, sir. It's just these Bureau chairs, sir. They're a bit uncomfortable…" Mulder mumbled, going red.

 

"Agent Mulder, you've held up this meeting for long enough. I'd be grateful if you would take your place as quickly and quietly as possible," Skinner growled, his eyes meeting Mulder's and holding a promise of imminent punishment.

 

"Yes, M…sir." Mulder bit on his lip, and lowered himself cautiously into his seat.

 

The meeting, which had already gotten off to a bad start, got even worse. Mulder couldn't keep his mind on the subject they were discussing. He was too busy thinking about Krycek, and what he'd told him. His sister had been experimented upon? He couldn't stand thinking about it. He was distracted, and paid little attention to Skinner's briefing. When his Master asked him questions he didn't know the answers, and after a while he stopped attempting to keep up. His eyes strayed over to the briefcase in the corner of the office every so often. Damn! It was hard enough keeping up with the labyrinthine conspiracy that threatened to overwhelm all of them, without worrying about getting his ass whipped as well. Mulder's lack of attention turned into a full-scale sulk, and he crossed his arms and answered Skinner's questions with barely any attempt at civility. He knew he was testing his Master's patience to the limit, but he figured that he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. He was going to get punished anyway, whatever he said, and he was so not in the mood.

 

"So, Agents Phillips, and Goodacre, I'd be grateful if you could research this issue for me," Skinner wound up the meeting.

 

"Yes, sir." The two agents nodded, and picked up their brief. Mulder glared at them. Asslickers.

 

"Agent Mulder, do you think you'll be able to tie this in with the X Files you mentioned?" Skinner turned back to his most truculent agent.

 

"Oh, I think I can just about manage that, yes, sir," he sneered, almost rolling his eyes sarcastically. "Unless you doubt my competence," he challenged. There was a silence around the table. Several agents looked as if they wanted to run for cover. Mulder didn't blame them. Skinner's mouth settled into a hard line.

 

"Not your competence, no," he replied coolly, his message going home loud and clear, and not just to Mulder. He knew the other agents were wondering whether he was insane. Nobody took on Skinner and won. "That will be all, agents. You have your assignments." Skinner dismissed them. Mulder didn't even bother to move. Skinner also remained seated, as the other agents filed out nervously, casting glances in their direction. Mulder could see from the looks on their faces that they were all glad that they weren't in his shoes. Suddenly he wished that he wasn't in his shoes either, and cursed his earlier bravado and display of bad temper.

 

The door closed behind the last agent, and still Skinner didn't move. He surveyed Mulder like a snake, watching its prey for any sign of movement. Mulder sat slumped in his chair, looking back, not dropping his gaze. He was going to stare Skinner out and take the consequences. Two minutes passed. Then three. Mulder suddenly felt very hot. Skinner's dark eyes were fixed on his face, waiting. His Master was leaning on one hand, his fingers caressing the side of his jaw as he sat there. Mulder cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Skinner's dark eyes were unwavering. Four minutes. Mulder snapped. He dropped his gaze, unable to bear it any longer, and that was when Skinner finally spoke.

 

"Go and get me the paddle," he said, in a low, hard tone.

 

"No." Mulder clenched his fists. "Don't you want to hear my explanation first?" He asked.

 

"You mean you actually have one?" Skinner sounded surprised. "You're saying there can be any excuse for the appalling behavior I just witnessed? Well then, by all means, go ahead. Explain away. This should be good." He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, expectantly.

 

"Oh fuck it. You're not going to listen to me anyway!" Mulder exploded, getting up and flouncing across the room to the briefcase. He opened it and drew out the paddle. While he hadn't exactly found this implement to be the most painful implement in the case yesterday, he knew his butt was so sore after the caning, and strapping he'd already received today that the paddle would add another level to his current agony. He brought the paddle back and threw it down on the table in front of his Master. Skinner caught his wrist in a vice-like grip.

 

"I always listen," he said in a deep, urgent tone. "Now, talk." He kept hold of Mulder's wrist, and clicked the fingers on his other hand. Mulder tried to resist, but Skinner pulled his arm down and he found himself sinking onto his knees beside his Master. He knelt there glumly because he knew there was nothing he could say. Well, he could tell Skinner about Krycek, but he just knew how well that would go down. Skinner would have his hide for chasing after his old enemy and if he knew he'd got into the car with him…Mulder bit on his lip. It wasn't worth it. Some small part of him also knew that he didn't want to share this information, regardless of any punishment. He was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions, and he'd continue to make them regardless of any sanctions his Master placed upon him.

 

"I was having lunch with Scully. We forgot the time," he said lamely. Skinner placed a finger under his chin, and pulled his head up to look at him.

 

"And that's the reason why you showed me up in front of a room full of agents?" He asked incredulously. "Why, for god's sake, Fox?"

 

"I don't know. I got annoyed with you." Mulder shrugged. "I knew I was in trouble anyway, and I just got angry. I'm not used to all these restrictions. I need some leeway."

 

"Tough." Skinner got to his feet, his expression grim. "Quote me the first clause of your contract, slave."

 

Mulder stared at him. Then did as he was told, with a sigh.

 

"The slave agrees to obey and submit completely to his Master in all ways. There are no boundaries of place, time, or situation in which the slave may willfully refuse to obey the directive of his Master," he gabbled.

 

"Did you put your name to that contract, Fox?" Skinner asked. Mulder struggled for a moment.

 

"Yes, but I didn't know that you'd be working here!" He protested.

 

"It makes no difference. At least you were lucky enough to end up with a Master who understands about your quest - can you imagine how many other Masters would be so accommodating to that side of your life?" Skinner turned back, and glared at him. "Now, yesterday I told you that the consequences of screwing up big time are being punished big time. Now I'm going to show you exactly what that means."

 

He moved around the room, drawing the blinds, and locking the doors. Mulder watched, his heart sinking into his stomach. He wasn't in the mood for a spanking. This morning it had hurt, but it had also been a turn on. This afternoon it was more like a punishment, which was exactly what Skinner intended, of course. Mulder clenched his fists and willed himself to be anywhere else in the universe but here. Skinner finished his task, then turned back, and silently handed Mulder his handkerchief again.

 

"You'll need it," he warned.

 

Mulder took it, and Skinner pointed at the table. "Pants down, and bend over," he ordered. Mulder's breath caught in his throat. Usually those words thrilled him, but on this occasion…he wasn't sure. Skinner was genuinely angry. It still wasn't too late. He could still tell the other man about Krycek, about his sister. He longed to share the information with someone if he was honest, but a lifetime of dealing with this issue on his own kicked in, and instead of talking, he took his pants down, as ordered, and bent over the table.

 

Mulder held onto the table with sweaty palms as he felt the paddle, cool and sleek, brushing his backside. The hard surface of the table dug into his thighs. Skinner didn't even bother to ask him what lesson he was learning. There was silence for a moment, then the most almighty blaze of pain. He choked into the handkerchief, as his Master punished him thoroughly. His already sore bottom reached new levels of pain as his Master laid into him with the paddle. Skinner was an expert of course, and he applied the paddle to cover every single inch of Mulder's red buns, until the agent was sure that he couldn’t stand it any more, and he dissolved into hiccuping sobs, trying to breathe through the handkerchief. Then it was over.

 

"Get up, get dressed, and put the paddle away," Skinner told him firmly. Mulder pulled the handkerchief out of his mouth and gazed at his Master resentfully. No hugs? No kisses? No little words of reassurance? Mulder did as instructed in silence, watching out of the corner of his eye as Skinner returned to his desk, and started writing something down. Mulder finished his tasks, and went to kneel beside his Master. He rested his head on Skinner's knee in his favorite position, then nudged his Master's hand with his nose, like a puppy needing attention. Skinner looked down at him, and frowned. Then he ruffled his hand through Mulder's hair. Mulder sighed, and leaned into the embrace.

 

"That hurt, Master," Mulder whispered.

 

"I know. It was supposed to, little one," Skinner replied. "You know I'll be hard on you if you're disrespectful or disobey me. I've always made that very clear." They sat there for a moment, Skinner's fingers gently caressing his slave's hair. Then Skinner took Mulder's face in his hands and looked at him. "You're sure there's nothing else?" He asked, his eyes scanning Mulder's face, searchingly. Mulder closed his eyes. He wanted to tell his Master. He did want to, but an old instinct took over. He shook his head.

 

"No, Master," he whispered. Skinner carried on looking at him for a moment, then dropped Mulder's head, abruptly.

 

"Get up," he ordered. "Here." He handed Mulder the note he had been writing. "This is a list of the groceries we need. Make sure you get them on your way home." Mulder stared at the list, his throat dry. He knew he had disappointed Skinner, but he didn't know how to make things better. "Now go," Skinner told him. "Unless you have anything else you'd like to say?"

 

"No." Mulder shrugged. He looked at Skinner for a moment, then pocketed the grocery list and walked over to the door.

 

"And, Fox - don't be late home," Skinner advised. "I really wouldn't recommend that today."

 

"No, Master."

 

Mulder wandered downstairs, dejected. I knew this would happen. I told him this would happen. It's just not going to work. Jeez, the expression on his face - as if I disgusted him or something. He couldn't wait to get rid of me. He hunched his shoulders, and returned to his office. Scully glanced up, concerned.

 

"Mulder - are you okay? Where did you get to? What happened to you?"

 

"I'm fine, Scully." Mulder sighed. "I'm sorry for ditching you." Scully's eyes widened in astonishment. "What?" Mulder asked her, surprised by her expression.

 

"Mulder - that's the first time you've ever apologized for ditching me in your entire life, and it's happened enough times!" She exclaimed. "That Master of yours must be really hot on manners," she grinned slyly. Mulder managed a feeble smile in return.

 

"Yeah. He is," he murmured, seating himself gingerly in his chair.

 

"Aw, what's the matter, slaveboy? Master spank you too hard?" Scully teased, watching him.

 

"Something like that." Mulder shook his head wryly.

 

Mulder's mood wasn't made any better by having to sit on his aching butt all afternoon. He gazed at the address on the note Krycek had given to him. He knew there wasn't any point in running off to California, although he was sorely tempted. He did a search on the address and dug up some details that didn't verify anything, one way or another. He was glad when it was time to go, and was about to leave when he realized he didn't have any money to pay for the metro. He was damned if he was going to go and ask Skinner for some, like a school kid, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start borrowing off Scully. Mulder decided to jog home instead. He kept some gym clothes and sneakers in his locker. He said goodbye to Scully, and went and got changed, then set off.

 

It felt good to be running off his misery. He went over and over the events of the day in his head but he couldn’t see a way of changing anything. He wished he could have told Skinner about Krycek, but it was as if he became mute at the very idea. Something stopped him, something too deep for him to tackle. He felt as if he were floating off into space once more, and he desperately wanted somebody to pull him back, and keep him grounded. As he ran, he felt the endorphins kick in. This felt good! He'd missed being able to jog. Mulder glanced at his watch. It was almost 6. He should go home, but he didn't want to. He wanted to run and run, and if he ran for long enough he might be able to escape all his problems. He remembered the groceries Skinner had asked for, but he didn't care. He didn't care if his Master whipped his ass all night. He needed this. He needed to run and run forever. It got dark, and Mulder started to feel cold. It was so good though. He had gone into a dream-like state where nothing mattered. It must have been a good two hours later, when he realized his feet had stopped moving. He looked up and found himself standing outside the Viva Towers. Some homing instinct had brought him here. He glanced up at the seventeenth floor, and then, with a sigh, went inside to meet his fate.

 

He considered going straight up to the 18th floor and locking himself in his room, but he knew that his Master had to be faced, sooner or later, so he knocked on the 17th floor apartment. Skinner opened the door, and looked at him for a long moment.

 

"Can I come in?" Mulder asked. Skinner didn't move. "Master," Mulder added. Skinner stood aside, and Mulder entered the apartment. "All right, I know I'm in deep shit. Spare me the lecture," Mulder said with a smirk. "Just whip my ass and send me to bed without any supper. I didn't get the groceries, and I went out running without your permission. I've been a very bad slave," he mocked.

 

Skinner didn't explode as he'd expected. He just shook his head.

 

"Why, Fox?" He asked mildly. Somehow, his Master's unexpected reaction was like a red rag to a bull, and Mulder went ballistic.

 

"Because I wanted to fucking run! And I didn't want to do the fucking shopping! And I don't want to do any more of your fucking laundry either. Now get off my case, asshole!"

 

Skinner moved so fast that Mulder only saw a blur of white. Then he felt himself being propelled into the kitchen, and pushed over to the sink. He had no idea what was even happening, until a handful of white, sloppy goo was thrust into his mouth.

 

"UGH!" He spat out the soap, but the aftertaste lingered. "Fuck you! Fucking, fuck...oh my god that tastes like SHIT!"

 

Skinner grabbed hold of his sweatshirt, dragged him out of the kitchen and across the living room, opened the balcony door, and threw him outside. Then he reached into his pocket, snapped a set of handcuffs around Mulder's wrist, and secured him to the balcony railing, before getting to his feet and looking down on his recalcitrant slave.

 

"You can stay out here until you cool down," Skinner told him.

 

"You bastard!" Mulder yelled. "Come back here! Fuck you, Skinner. Let me go!"

 

Skinner gazed at him impassively for a moment, then went back into the apartment, leaving the door ajar. Mulder struggled pointlessly in his bonds for a moment, then sank back on his haunches, growling to himself as he tried to find a position that didn't involve placing his sore butt on the hard balcony floor. He kept up a screeching monologue for several minutes, cursing his Master, calling him every name under the sun, but although Skinner could clearly hear him, he made no reply. Mulder could see him through the balcony door, moving around in the kitchen, making dinner. Finally Mulder subsided, reconciling himself to a long stay out here. Damn, but Krycek had been right - it was cold out here. Damn Skinner. Damn him. Why the hell had Mulder agreed to that stupid, fucking contract? Mulder closed his eyes, blinking back the tears. He remembered the words security, and love. He had wanted that, and he hated himself for that weakness.

 

Skinner came out a few minutes later. He didn't say anything. He just placed a bottle of water on the ground next to Mulder, and gazed at him for a few moments. Mulder glared at him, angrily, still tasting the soap in his mouth. He couldn't wait to wash that away with the water, but he had enough pride to wait until Skinner had gone before he grabbed the bottle and held it between his knees so that he could twist the cap off. Then he drank down the entire contents in one go, lost in his own misery.

 

Mulder knew the danger signs only too well. He wasn't angry with Skinner. He was angry with himself, and his fucked up life. He was angry that he'd lost his sister in the first place, angry that men like Krycek used her to lure him into god knew what kind of trap. He was angry with himself for responding, for still needing this so badly that he'd risk screwing up the best thing that had ever happened to him in order to get it. This was one of those moments that he had warned his Master about. He was about to go out of control, about to spin off into the edges of insanity and he knew that when he came back down to earth, he'd feel empty, and lost, without hope, and full of despair. Those were the moments when he woke up wishing that he were dead. It was on one of those days that he knew he might decide to die. Mulder wrapped his free arm around his body. He felt so cold. So alone. If he closed his eyes he could see his sister, lying in some laboratory somewhere, faceless men looming over her. Mulder fought against the image, fought against it swallowing him whole, and twisting his gut until he could feel real physical pain.

 

He watched his Master move around the apartment. He knew that if he called out, if he apologized, Skinner would come out here, and undo the cuff, but Mulder wouldn't ask. He dipped his head down to his chest, sunk in misery. A few minutes later he felt something wet nudge against his hand. Wanda had come to investigate the novelty of her slave's slave sitting out on the balcony and she was sniffing at him curiously.

 

"Go. Away," he told her. She looked at him with clear green eyes, then climbed calmly into his lap, and snuggled up against his chest. He longed to accept the comfort, and his chin dropped for a moment against her soft head, but then his self-loathing kicked back in, and he shoved her angrily off his lap and onto the floor with his free hand. "Shoo!" He snarled, and she ran back into the apartment. He saw her climb onto Skinner's lap where his Master was sitting on the couch. She snuggled up in his Master's arms, and that just added to Mulder's misery. He wanted to cry but he had too much pride, so he just sat there, glaring at Skinner, glaring at Wanda, glaring at the world.

 

A couple of hours passed, and finally Mulder's mood played itself out. Skinner appeared in the doorway.

 

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

 

"Fucking freezing," Mulder snapped. "Not that you care."

 

"You must be hungry." Skinner came out onto the balcony, and crouched down in front of him. He was holding a plate full of the most delicious smelling food. Mulder realized that he was hungry. Very hungry. "Open up." Skinner pushed some food onto a fork, and held it up to Mulder's mouth.

 

"I can damn well feed myself," Mulder protested.

 

"Open up," Skinner repeated, his tone brooking no further resistance. Mulder obeyed, grudgingly, and Skinner fed him a forkful of food, then another, and another. Mulder was too overwrought to eat much though, and he refused any more after the 4th serving. Skinner looked at him calmly. "You'll eat the whole plateful," he stated firmly. "You've been out running for hours. You need to replace the energy." Mulder turned his face away, but Skinner turned it back, and held another forkful of food against his lips. Grudgingly, Mulder ate. He finished the plate of food, and then Skinner disappeared into the kitchen and returned with dessert. "No slave of mine ever goes to bed hungry," Skinner insisted, holding up a spoon full of cheesecake. "There are some punishments you'll never suffer at my hands, and missing meals is one of them."

 

Mulder swallowed it down, feeling completely and utterly wrung-out. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispered between mouthfuls.

 

"I know you are." Skinner smiled. When Mulder had finished, Skinner took the bowl back into the apartment, and then returned to the balcony. "Ready to come in now?" He asked. Mulder looked at him wearily, all the anger having fled his body, leaving him completely drained.

 

"Yes please," he said softly.

 

Skinner knelt down beside him, and unlocked the handcuff. Then he pulled Mulder to his feet and enveloped him in a hug. Mulder clung to his Master's big body as if his life depended on it. He felt so safe here. So warm, and comforted. Skinner was his earth, his grounding. It felt good knowing he could rely on the other man to pull him back down when he was about to fly off into orbit.

 

"Okay, little one," Skinner soothed, gently stroking his slave's hair. "Now, I won't usually reward bad behavior, but on this occasion I'll make an exception as you're clearly in a bad way. Go and wait in my bedroom. You can spend the night with me."

 

Mulder pulled back, and looked into his Master's eyes. "Really?" he whispered.

 

"Really." Skinner kissed his forehead. "Now go and kneel in the bedroom and wait for me. I won't be long."

 

Mulder didn't need telling twice. He walked wearily up to the bedroom, and sank down on the floor, waiting to be told what to do next. He didn't want to think. He just wanted to be held, and loved. Skinner came up a few minutes later. He sat on the end of the bed, and pulled his slave over, then he undressed him gently, kissing him, and soothing the weary agent with loving words as he worked. Mulder went into a trance. He was so tired. He wanted to escape, to be free. He needed to find some place in his head where there was peace, but all he could see was his sister. He gave a stifled sob, and Skinner drew him close, and kissed his lips. Mulder drowned in that kiss, and realized, with a start, that he had found his escape in his Master's arms. Here he was safe from the demons that had haunted him all his life. He surrendered to Skinner's insistent mouth, to his claiming tongue, and melted against the big man, warming himself in that loving embrace.

 

"I've run you a bath," Skinner said when he released him. "You need warming up." He helped Mulder to get up, and walked him into the bathroom. He deposited his weary slave in the bath, and then got undressed himself and slipped in beside him. He pulled Mulder over, and soaped him down, rubbing his muscles briskly. Mulder started to feel more human. He was warm, clean, fed, loved…He leaned back in his Master's arms, and allowed the other man to take care of him. Skinner didn't linger in the bath. He made sure Mulder was warm, then he walked him back into the other room, and helped him into the bed. Mulder watched his Master wander around the room, tidying up clothing, and longed for him to join him in the bed. Finally Skinner finished, turned off the light, and got into the bed beside his slave. Mulder hesitated, then inched his way hesitantly towards his Master, and put his arms around him, burying his face in the other man's chest.

 

"I'm so, so sorry. I'm such a shit head. I…"

 

"Fox. Stop. I never use abusive names when I talk to you, do I?" Skinner asked.

 

Mulder blinked. "No, Master."

 

"And do you think I'd keep a slave that wasn't worthy of me?" Skinner pressed. Mulder felt so tired that he couldn't think.

 

"No, Master. I suppose not," he agreed reluctantly.

 

"Well then." Skinner kissed him gently, lovingly, holding him tight. "Don't use names like that for yourself again."

 

"Make love to me, Master," Mulder whispered.

 

"No, sweetheart, you're too tired," Skinner replied.

 

"Please. I want to feel…good again," Mulder kissed his Master's chest, and lightly teased a nipple with his tongue. "You make me feel good, Master. Help me forget…"

 

"Forget what, Fox?" Skinner held him so tight that he couldn't escape. "What happened today?"

 

"Nothing. Nothing. Nothing…" Mulder found his Master's soft cock and caressed it with his hand. He loved his Master's bed too much to want to lose the privilege by telling him what had happened, and apart from anything else, he just didn't want to talk about it. It was his pain, and his alone. It always had been, and he nursed it close to his heart and never let anyone in.

 

"Please, Master…make love to me."

 

Skinner sighed. "Fox, something clearly happened today. Now I can't make you tell me, but I want you to know that you can. When you're ready. I might whip your ass, but I'll always listen. Understood?" Mulder nodded, dumbly. Skinner shook his head. "Fox, I don’t like watching you tear yourself apart like this."

 

Mulder ignored his Master, and kept nuzzling at Skinner's broad chest. He kissed his way down to his Master's groin, and took Skinner's cock into his mouth. It hardened under Mulder's expert caress. He drew back, and looked at Skinner expectantly.

 

"Please…make love to me," he begged.

 

Skinner nodded, finally accepting that it was the only thing that would soothe his deeply troubled slave. He turned Mulder around, and held his slave close against his chest. Mulder could feel his Master's hard length pressing against his buttocks.

 

"Okay, stroke yourself. Come if you want," Skinner said. Mulder heard him putting a condom on his hard cock, and then his Master handed one to him as well. "So neither of us has to lie on the damp patch," Skinner whispered.

 

He took hold of Mulder's buttocks gently, and eased himself between them, sliding into the lubricated hole without difficulty. Then he held Mulder tight, and gently rocked back and forth into his slave. Mulder lost himself in the sheer pleasure of his Master's touch, pressing back to impale himself on even more of Skinner's length. His own cock was hard, and he entered a dream-like state of total bliss, lying comfortably in his Master's arms, lulled by the scent of sex, and the pleasure of being made love to, of being loved. Skinner kissed the back of his slave's neck, and nibbled on his ear, and they both came a little while later. Skinner disposed of the condoms, then joined his slave back in the bed. He took Mulder in his arms again, and Mulder felt at peace for the first time since Krycek's phone call.

 

"Listen to me, Fox, before you go to sleep," Skinner said.

 

"Hmmm?" Mulder felt his weary mind begin to drift away.

 

"Today was a bad day. Tomorrow we'll start again."

 

"Yes…again." Mulder nodded.

 

"Remember one thing." Skinner's arms tightened around his slave. "You belong to me, and you're hurting right now. I'll do everything in my power to help you. You're mine, sweetheart. Body, heart, mind, and soul, and whatever hurts you, hurts me."

 

"I can feel myself spinning off course. Just don't let me go." Mulder had a vision of himself flying off into space. Deep inside, he doubted that even Skinner would be strong enough to keep him on the ground.

 

"I won't," Skinner promised, and his voice was grim. "I might be hard on you, Fox, but I'll always be here for you."

 

Mulder remembered, with a guilty start, the information he'd found out about Skinner inheriting these apartments from Andrew Linker. He had spied on his Master, lied to him, disobeyed him too many times to mention, and been insolent to him all in the space of one day. He'd shouted at Skinner, and pushed him to the limits of his patience, but at the end of the day the other man was still here, with his arms wrapped tightly around his slave. Maybe he had finally met his match, after all. Maybe he had at last found somebody he could trust with the true darkness of what he knew lay within himself. Just not yet. Not quite yet.

 

 

24/7: Next Chapters