Beautiful pic courtesy of Sean Spencer.
Posted 10th May, 2000
WARNING: Scenes of public
humiliation, the usual quota of BDSM thingummies and some sappy stuff.
Quotation courtesy of my sweet Alex.
None of this is beta'd. It's far too much fun to take seriously.
Many thanks to Emma, who told me a
very intriguing tale that sparked this story off, and for the long discussions over high
calorie snacks.
Thanks to Gaby and Phoebe for their
help, and as usual to CDavis for the tapes and the pics :-)
This chapter is for Don.
24/7 is an
erotic fantasy and NOT a BDSM resource guide. The truth is sometimes exagerrated, or
played with, for dramatic effect. For more information, please visit the 24/7 BDSM Glossary.
24/7
By Xanthe
"A truth, still apparent,
though disregarded, that
things move violently to their place, but calmly in
their place. To put it another way, everything has
its right home, the region that suits it, and, unless
forcibly restrained, will move thither by a kind of
homing instinct."
J. Winterson
"Art and Lies"
Chapter 16: P.E.T.S
"I've been surfing," Mulder glanced up
from his lap top as his Master came into the living room, still dressed in his work suit,
carrying his briefcase.
"And?" Skinner frowned slightly, and
Mulder got up hastily, and helped his Master out of his coat, hanging the garment up.
"And, I'm not stupid," Mulder said,
pouring the other man his usual malt whisky, and handing it to him. Skinner raised a
questioning eyebrow in response to this statement, a teasing look in his dark eyes. Mulder
loosened his Master's tie, and pressed his lips quickly against the other man's stubbled
jaw, then jumped back, tie in hand, out of the way of the swat that was aimed at his
backside for his temerity to steal a kiss.
"I know from the way you and Ian were
laughing that this whole pony thing is some kind of really bad joke on me. I want to be
prepared," Mulder said, winding his Master's tie into a neat ball and placing it on
the table, then approaching the other man cautiously, undoing the top button of his
collar, and then helping him out of his jacket.
Skinner caught the back of his slave's neck,
holding him still. "If anyone does any preparing around here, it'll be me," he
said in the low, masterful tone that always went straight to Mulder's cock.
"I know that
" Mulder said
quickly, "I was just looking!"
"And what did you find?" There was a
glint of amusement in Skinner's eyes.
"Waaaay too much information," Mulder
said mournfully. "Please, tell me that you have no intention of, uh, riding me
next weekend, Master." He eyed Skinner's huge bulk in some trepidation.
His Master laughed out loud. "Ah, that's
what's worrying you. Well, slave, sleep easy. I have no intention of riding you
at
least not in that way. I can think of plenty of other pleasurable ways to see
you're well mounted though." Skinner chuckled at his own joke, and swallowed down his
whisky in one smooth gulp.
Mulder knelt down and undid his Master's shoes.
It was an established evening ritual between them. When Skinner came home, Mulder would be
waiting, naked and available. He would bring the big man a drink, and make him
comfortable, hang up his coat and jacket, and then fetch his Master's slippers, before
addressing himself to any other little needs his Master might have.
"Hmmm, well, while I was online I found some
interesting stuff," Mulder said, glancing up at his Master from under long eyelashes,
a grin in his voice. "And I joined P.E.T.S
"
"Pets?" Skinner looked down at his
slave inquiringly.
Mulder smirked, and, taking his life into his
hands, tied Skinner's shoelaces together and prepared to flee.
"Yeah - I thought that would appeal to you
seeing as how you keep trying to turn me into a dog, and now a damned pony,"
Mulder said the word with some venom. "Although it doesn't have anything to do with
pets, as such," he grinned. "It stands for People for the Ethical Treatment
of Slaves
"
Mulder was up and running before he finished the
sentence. Skinner gave a growl, and took a step in pursuit of his slave, only to find
himself tangled up in his own shoelaces. He fell heavily to the floor, with a startled
grunt, quickly followed by a bellow of masterly rage. Mulder ran up the stairs, two at a
time, his heart beating in his chest.
Mulder found Skinner's slippers, and sat on the
end of the bed, holding them, for a moment, wondering if his Master would follow him up
the stairs to dispense his righteous masterly wrath. Mulder was suddenly startled by what
he had just done. He hadn't planned it - it had just happened, and it had taken him as
completely by surprise as it had clearly taken his Master. After a few minutes, when he
hadn't heard the sound of Skinner's footsteps on the stairs, he decided that it was time
to face the music, and trotted back down. Skinner was sitting on the couch - although
lounging might have been a better description. His shirt sleeves were undone, and his head
was lolling back, his eyes closed. Mulder crept around and knelt in front of his Master,
offering him the slippers.
"Uh, do you want me to go chain myself in
the kennel now, or after you punish me?" He asked, unable to stop himself from
grinning slightly, even despite the imminence of punishment.
Skinner opened his eyes and looked at his slave
steadily, and Mulder looked back. There was silence. The silence stretched on, and
on
but still Skinner's hard gaze didn't crack. Mulder started to feel nervous.
"Come on
it was just a little
joke
you weren't hurt or anything - were you?" He was suddenly aware of how
tired his Master was looking. Skinner had dark shadows under his eyes, and his shoulders
were stiff, and tense. "I didn't mean anything. Oh shit," Mulder muttered, his
mouth going into overdrive as Skinner's continued silence frayed his nerves. "Okay,
I'm an idiot. You're right. I know that. I don't know why I did it. I just
"
Mulder stopped talking as one of Skinner's
fingers was placed over his mouth.
"C'mere," Skinner muttered, in a
throaty growl. He dragged his slave onto the couch, and kissed him - a long, deep kiss
that took Mulder's breath away and made his body melt against his Master's white shirt,
and dark dress pants. His cock, always on the edge of permanent arousal, started to harden
against his Master's thigh.
"What was that for?" Mulder rested his
head on Skinner's shoulder, and relished the feel of his Master's blunt fingertips as they
ran over his naked back and down to his buttocks.
"That was for you playing - for the first
time since you sold yourself to me. I wondered whether you'd ever relax enough to just
play," Skinner whispered into his ear. "You've taken everything so
seriously."
"I have?" Mulder glanced at his Master
in surprise.
"Yes." Skinner slapped his slave's butt
affectionately. "You have."
"Does this mean you won't punish me
then?" Mulder asked hopefully. Skinner's large, flat hand descended rather more
sharply on his slave's upturned butt.
"Don't push your luck," Skinner
chuckled.
"Now?" Mulder asked, his stomach
lurching in the mixture of anticipation and dread that usually preceded a spanking.
"Not this minute, no. I'm tired."
Skinner rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, and Mulder sat up, worried.
"It's my fault - you've missed out on two
Master's days because of me, and
"
"No, it isn't your fault. I'm tired because
I've been busy at work, and that means that you missed out on a couple of morning
spankings, which, clearly, hasn't been good for you," Skinner frowned.
"Not only that," Mulder sighed,
"but my markings have gone," he glanced over his shoulder at his pristine white
bottom, which was displayed with naked abandon for his Master's pleasure.
"Since when?" Skinner sat up and held
his slave at arm's length.
Mulder bit on his lip, and glanced away. "A
few days," he admitted.
"You are on strict instructions to let me
know when your marks have faded. They aren't an optional extra to your slavery, boy,
they're fundamental to it," Skinner told him, his eyes dark. "Until such a time
as you have my permanent mark on your flesh, you will at least have a temporary one,
reminding you of your status, and who you belong to."
"I know. I'm sorry. I decided I'd tell you
tonight - like you said, you've been busy, and the truth is
" Mulder paused.
"Yes?" Skinner prompted.
"Marking hurts, Master," Mulder
admitted. "Worse than anything. That's why I did the thing with the shoelaces. I
thought that if I was going to be caned then I'd at least like to have done something to
deserve it." He sat back on his haunches, shame-faced, realizing that it had been a
while since he and his Master had actually had a chance to really talk. Oh, they
talked at work, as A.D. to Agent, but that wasnt the same as Master to slave,
or
lover to lover. Mulder was surprised to find that he missed that. He missed their
easy conversation in the evenings as they ate dinner together. He missed his Master's
blunt fingers, and warm, wet mouth, claiming his slave's body for his own, missed giving
his wake up call because Skinner had been going to work so early, and missed his morning
spanking which he enjoyed far more than he'd ever admit to anyone, least of all himself.
Most of all though, he just missed hanging out with the big man, his head in Skinner's lap
or resting on his shoulder, while Skinner idly, absently fondled his slave, almost like a
reflex action, without conscious thought.
It had only been a few days since Skinner's job
had required him to work all hours, but it felt like weeks. Conversely, Mulder wasn't very
busy on the X Files at the moment, and he would be the first to admit that he didn't react
well to having too much time on his hands. The old adage about the devil making work for
idle hands was all too true when applied to himself, as he knew very well. He had spent
half an hour that very morning phoning around for flight times to Seattle, and only a
surprise email from his Master of the most intimate nature had stopped him from leaving
Skinner a note and hotfooting it to Seattle to investigate the house that phone number had
been registered to.
"Marking is less about inflicting pain, than
reinforcing the lesson of who you belong to," Skinner murmured, placing his big hands
on his slave's butt and kneading it thoughtfully.
"I know," Mulder sighed.
"And truthfully, tell me how you feel when
you see my mark on your body," Skinner whispered in a deep, throaty growl. Mulder's
cock skyrocketed. "In words. That doesn't count," Skinner said with a sly
grin, glancing at the newly aroused state of his slave's cock.
"I don't like the process," Mulder
began, "although
okay, there's something about it that arouses me, the whole
ritual maybe - but it's freaking painful. Afterwards though, I get a thrill out of knowing
the marks are there - our secret, written in my flesh
it's like a constant tingle. I
prefer it when the sting fades a bit, and the marks just remind me occasionally, when I
least expect it. Remind me that I'm yours, your slave, your property, your devoted
boy." He glanced up at his Master's dark, inscrutable eyes. "Sometimes I get
hard just thinking about them being there," he admitted.
"Good. Then the marking process stays - at
least until you're wearing my brand, or tattoo," Skinner commented. "And maybe
even then as well, just because." He grinned, and slapped his slave's butt.
"However, marking takes precision, and I'm tired so I have no intention of marking
you tonight. I won't mark you again until just before we leave for Murray's place on
Friday evening, and when I do - it will be a special kind of marking," he promised.
Mulder gave Skinner his best hopeful look,
complete with puppy dog eyes, but his Master just laughed and refused to elaborate further
on what form the special marking would take.
"On the subject of Murray's party - I want
to show you off this weekend," Skinner continued, steepling his fingers as he spoke.
"For that reason, I'll be putting you in deep submission for the entire time. If you
feel yourself coming out of that state, for whatever reason, you must tell me.
Understood?" Mulder nodded, feeling his body flush, and his already hard cock give a
little spasm of anticipation. It had been a while since they had taken their relationship
to the depth of total surrender, and submission that Skinner would require from him at the
weekend. He found it almost unbearably exciting. "I want to show people how your
training is progressing," Skinner murmured. "At Murray's last party, as I
recall, there was an unfortunate incident." Mulder sighed, and nodded again, as he
remembered biting the loathsome Lee. "I do have a certain reputation to
maintain," Skinner grinned. "I would like people to see what a truly attentive,
well trained slave can do and I'm sure they'd all like to see how an efficient Master can
improve the behavior of even the most
challenging slave. I realize that I've been
neglecting your training after all the dramas of recent weeks." He tangled his hands
in Mulder's hair, reassuring him that he didn't hold his slave to blame for those events.
"I've probably been too easy on you as well - you need taking down again, boy,"
he said in a gruffly affectionate tone. "If you go too long without being taken down,
you start getting antsy." Mulder's hard cock begged for release, tortured exquisitely
merely by his Master's tone of voice.
"Master, please," he croaked, glancing
at his erection hopefully.
"You're forbidden any release between now
and Saturday," Skinner told him, in a brisk, business-like tone, crushing that hope
mercilessly. "There's a method in my cruelty, slave - you've done some reading, so
you know a little of what will be expected of you during the pony trials on Saturday
afternoon. I've given you plenty of practice in holding an erection over the past few
months, and I believe you've become fairly proficient at that," he smiled with a kind
of grim satisfaction and Mulder made a face. "That's good - because you'll be
required to keep a very visible erection for quite some time on Saturday."
"In public?" Mulder said faintly.
"In public," Skinner confirmed with a
firm nod of his head. "Get used to the idea, boy."
Mulder closed his eyes, and nodded, seeing
himself in his mind's eye, naked, and erect in front of an audience. A blush started on
his face, and seeped down to his chest, making his Master give a deep, throaty laugh.
"You'll look magnificent," Skinner
murmured. "My beautiful, thoroughbred steed. A little temperamental maybe, but with
the right handling
" he pulled Mulder's butt cheeks apart, and inserted a
finger, at the same time as his lips plundered his slave's mouth, demanding nothing less
that the total capitulation of his slave to his will. Mulder gave himself up without
demur, his whole body lost to the joy of his Master's touch. Finally, Skinner released
him, and Mulder rocked back on his heels, stunned.
"All right, boy. You're in training mode
now. I want you to be watchful to my every signal - disobedience or inattention will be
paid for on the butt, with my hand or any implement close by," Skinner warned.
"We'll refresh your memory on working from non-verbal signals." He gave a single
clap of his hands, and Mulder responded immediately, scrambling off the couch, getting on
his hands and knees, and pressing his nose into the carpet. "In addition, I think
some minor inconvenience of movement will assist you in getting into the right frame of
mind for the weekend's challenges." So saying, he got up, and left the room.
Mulder heard him go, but remained silent,
completely still in his prone position. He longed to break it, and look up, but didn't
dare. He wouldn't have put it past his Master to still be there, watching him. A few
minutes later, he heard Skinner's footsteps on the stairs, and his Master returned.
"Up, boy, and into the kitchen. You can
stand facing the wall while I fix us dinner," Skinner commanded. Mulder obeyed,
noticing as they walked into the kitchen that Skinner had something in his hands. Closer
inspection revealed it to be a leg spreader. Skinner had never used this kind of bondage
device on him before - he rarely ever used bondage on Mulder outside of the Playroom.
"Face the wall, slave, palms flat against it
- lean on them," Skinner said. Mulder did as he was told, and placed his hands on the
wall, bracing himself. "Legs wide apart - wider," Skinner instructed. Mulder
obeyed, flushing wildly again. Positioned like this, he felt achingly vulnerable. His ass
hole was exposed, wide, and waiting, and his butt was angled out - unprotected, offered up
like a sacrifice. Skinner fastened the leg spreader between his legs, using ankle cuffs.
"Good, I like a well hobbled steed," Skinner joked as he got up.
Mulder was sure he couldn't hold this position
for long. His legs were held so wide apart that he didn't see how he would be able to
walk.
"Concentrate on keeping still," Skinner
instructed. He turned around and left his slave facing the wall, butt still out, legs
open.
Mulder heard his Master move around the kitchen,
humming cheerfully to himself, and made a face at the wall, which was a particularly dull
shade of pale green he decided after examining it in tedious detail for several minutes.
At that moment, a sharp sting on one of his buttocks made him cry out in surprise. He
glanced over his shoulder to see Skinner brandishing a large wooden spoon.
"That's for hobbling me earlier with
the shoelace trick," Skinner told him. "Payback is not just a bitch, it's
inevitable, boy."
"Yes, Master," Mulder said meekly,
enjoying the familiar sting on his buttocks after the few days respite he'd experienced,
painful though it was. Skinner had never used this particular implement on him before - in
fact, nobody ever had, and he was intrigued by the feel of it. Similar to a paddle, but
snappier, stingier, but not as stingy as the strap. "Face the wall, boy. I'll slowly
toast this butt of yours as I cook."
Skinner gave him a sharp slap on his other
buttock with the flat end of the spoon, making Mulder gasp, and rock forward on his spread
feet. He listened as his Master moved around the kitchen, but each one of the spanks that
descended on his waiting, proffered ass came as a surprise. Several minutes would pass and
then his Master would treat him to 4 smacks in quick succession. More respite, then a
sneaky stinging slap when he wasn't even aware that Skinner was within arm's reach. He
could smell something delicious cooking as well, and was suddenly aware that he was hungry
- mouth wateringly so. He hoped his Master would unfetter him while he ate. His leg
muscles began to ache with the strain of being held so widely open. Finally, Skinner
finished up, and he heard his Master behind him.
"Now, this butt is nearly cooked, but I
think it needs a little more heating, don't you?" Skinner asked in a malicious tone.
Mulder let out a strangled little cry as the wooden spoon slapped down over and over again
on his already stinging backside, until he was writhing and moaning, his cock standing
stiffly to attention in front of him. He couldn't even hop around to alleviate the
discomfort because of the leg spreader, and he was sure he would topple over if the
sublime torture went on for too long. He decided that the wooden spoon was on a par with
the hairbrush - definitely on his list of Extremely Painful Implements. "That's
good
" Skinner murmured, and the onslaught came to a sudden end. "Now I
think we need to add some oil," his Master said, and Mulder gasped as he felt an
oiled finger press into his open, waiting hole, "and some seasoning," Skinner
growled, grabbing his slave's thighs. Mulder gasped again, as he heard his Master unzip
his pants, and then the tip of Skinner's hard cock nudged against his freshly glowing
buttocks. Oily fingers caressed his warm butt cheeks, and then his bottom was grasped
firmly and his Master's cock entered him smoothly, without any further ado. Mulder almost
melted against the wall - it had been days since Skinner had used him, and he had missed
the feel of his Master's cock filling him. He moaned, and pushed his ass back to meet
Skinner's thrusts forward.
"I thought we were going to have
dinner," he gasped, vaguely wondering just how hygienic it was to be doing this in
the kitchen and then dismissing that thought as being ridiculous. It was his Master's
decision where he took his slave, and if Skinner wanted to serve him up on the dining room
table, with his cock garnished by a sprig of parsley, then Mulder had no say in the
matter.
"That's exactly what I'm doing,"
Skinner said in an amused growl, his lips descending on the back of Mulder's neck and
licking a swathe along his slave's shoulder blades. "You're on the menu, boy."
His long, sweet thrusts reached a crescendo, and Mulder felt his Master convulse against
him, and then go still.
"Are you going to insist that I don't
get to come until Saturday?" Mulder asked mournfully, as he felt his Master soften
inside him, and his own cock strained in painful need.
"Yes - a little bit of denial never did you
any harm," Skinner said with a guffaw. He kissed his slave's shoulders over and over
again, making him shiver. His Master withdrew, and Mulder felt his semen dripping along
his thigh. It was messy, but Mulder liked the sensation. It was like being marked; it was
all proof of his Master's total ownership of his slave, and he couldn't help but love
that. "Clean yourself up, boy, and me," Skinner ordered. Mulder turned, and
almost fell over as he remembered the leg spreader. "Hop," Skinner suggested
with a grin. Mulder made a face, and shuffled uncomfortably over to the sink. He cleaned
his Master, then himself, then Skinner grabbed him and kissed him deeply and sweetly on
the lips. "A very nice appetizer," he murmured. "Now, let's get to the main
dish."
Dinner was delicious, even if his Master did make
him eat kneeling beside his chair, with his legs still forced open by the leg spreader.
Skinner fed him with a fork, taking it in turns to feed them both from the same enormous
plate, talking to his slave as he fed him.
"While you're in training mode, your normal
privileges are suspended," Skinner was saying. Mulder did a visible double-take. What
normal privileges?
"Ah, you're thinking what a hard life you
have," Skinner chuckled. "Think again, boy. You will continue to swim in the
morning, but you do not have my permission to run. I want you full of pent-up energy and
raring to go this weekend. Learning how to school your normal impulses is part of your
training."
"Yes, Master," Mulder nodded. It was
Wednesday, so it wasn't as if he'd suffer too much by this injunction.
"Tomorrow evening I'll spend some time
refreshing your memory on your leash skills - I want you walking to heel all weekend,
whether I've got these little beauties under hostage or not," Skinner pinched one of
Mulder's nipples lightly, making his slave gasp. "Do you understand, Fox?" He
asked, gazing at his slave keenly. "I want you to show me just how far you've come
since the early days, and I want you to show everyone else as well. I want them to envy me
my beautiful, spirited, tamed, obedient, and completely attentive slaveboy. Can you do
that?" He asked in that low, throaty growl. Mulder stared at his Master transfixed.
"I'll do my best," he replied, meaning
it.
Mulder woke in a sweat in the early hours of the
morning. He sat up with a start, remembering his dream. He'd been standing in a room full
of people, and he'd tried to maintain his erection on his Master's orders, he'd really
tried, but everyone had been pointing at him, and laughing, and he had felt his cock
wilting before their hostile gazes, and ribald amusement. Shit. A few months ago he would
never have dreamed that something like this could ever happen. Him, Fox Mulder, being
paraded naked and hard in front of a room full of strangers for his Master's pleasure. He
went cold at the very thought of letting his Master down in front of witnesses. Suddenly,
that Seattle trip seemed very enticing. Mulder got up, and in a flurry of activity threw
some clothes into a bag, and got dressed. He'd leave a note for Skinner. Sure, there'd be
hell to pay when he got back, but he just needed to evade his Master for a few days, and
then the party would be over, and all he'd have to suffer was maybe an appointment with
the bullwhip, which right now seemed preferable to naked humiliation in front of dozens of
staring eyes.
Mulder pulled some clothes on and ran down the
stairs to retrieve his cellphone, sneakers in his hands to avoid making a noise and waking
his Master. He'd buy a ticket at the airport. Hell, he'd drive to Seattle if need
be. Mulder found his cellphone in the living room, and sat down on the floor, pulling on
his sneakers. Something wet brushed against his hand in the dark and he jumped and almost
yelled out loud. A pair of yellowy-green eyes glowed at him, and he heard a familiar
trilling purr.
"Go away," he snapped. "If he
wakes up and finds out you're not in his bed he'll come and investigate. You know what
he's like. He's almost as nosey as you are, ugly butt."
Wanda sat on her haunches and surveyed him
steadily.
"Don't pull that emotional crap on me. I'm
going. He'll be fine without me. Mad as hell, but fine," Mulder told her, wincing
slightly as he imagined just how mad his Master would be. He had visions of himself
in Seattle, phoning Skinner from the airport. "Hi, it's me. I thought I'd just go
away for a few days, you know, bit of a vacation." He shuddered, anticipating the
bellow of rage from the other end of the 'phone. "Or I could just not call him,"
Mulder told Wanda. She put out a dainty forepaw, and licked it with some relish, her ears
twitching back and forth almost as if she was laughing at him. "I know, I know, he'd
worry
maybe I could send him an email. That way he wouldn't worry, and I wouldn't
have to talk to him either. Yeah
that would be best." Wanda finished washing her
paw and turned her attention to her bottom, lifting one hind paw delicately in the air as
she thoroughly investigated the area to be cleaned.
"I am not talking crap!" Mulder
seethed at her. "It makes perfect sense."
She sat up and stretched out her two front legs,
yawning disinterestedly.
"I know what you're thinking - you're
thinking it's my funeral, and you're right, girl. I can do what the hell I like!"
Mulder glowered at her. She shook her whole body briskly as if her fur was out of place.
"I can!" Mulder repeated. She gazed at him steadily, and then slowly and
deliberately turned her back on him and sauntered off in the general direction of
Skinner's bedroom. He watched her go. She paused when she got to the stairs, and glanced
back at him.
"Don't do this to me!" He implored her.
She blinked slowly, then just carried on walking. Mulder stared after her, and then, with
a sigh, followed. "Dont think I'm doing this because of you," he hissed,
as he followed her through Skinner's bedroom door. She settled down on the bed next to her
slave with a triumphant trill of pleasure, and Mulder set his bag down quietly on the
floor, and knelt down beside the bed. He gazed at Skinner for a long time, watching his
Master's chest rise and fall, rhythmically, then finally, he gave in, and placed a hand on
Skinner's large, warm shoulder. His Master came to with a start.
"Fox
what is it?" He asked.
"It's me
" Mulder admitted
miserably. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you but Wanda talked me into it."
"Right." Skinner nodded solemnly,
sitting up in bed. "She's very talented like that," he said, reaching out a
finger to tickle his Mistress under her chin. Mulder allowed his gaze to feast on his
Master's naked flesh. Damnit, but suddenly he could see the attraction in tying someone up
and just playing with their body
especially a body such as this. He shoved that
thought aside, as his ever ready cock started to stir inside his pants.
"You were going somewhere?" Skinner
glanced at Mulder's packed bag, and his slave's clothed state.
"Yeah. Seattle," Mulder admitted
unhappily. "Only Wanda thought it was a bad idea, and she's probably right, so I
thought I should mention it to you so you could maybe chain me up to stop me doing
something really stupid."
"You'd be in bondage for the rest of your
life if I did that," Skinner remarked wryly. Mulder made a face. "All
right," Skinner's tone of voice changed, becoming deadly serious. "Is it that
you really want to investigate what might be in Seattle, or is it just that you're running
away from what I have planned for you this weekend?" He asked.
"Both," Mulder said quickly, then he
sighed. "No, more the latter, I suppose. I had a nightmare about being naked
and
uh, hard in front of all those people. I couldn't hold it
I'd let you
down, Master," he admitted. Skinner laughed. It was a deep, baritone sound, that
echoed around the room, making Wanda pull her ears back, her eyes as round as saucers.
Mulder felt sure his own eyes were mirroring her response.
"Fox, get your clothes off and get under
here - you're not going anywhere," Skinner told his slave firmly.
Mulder had to admit to a certain feeling of
relief as he toed off his sneakers, and discarded his jeans and sweater on the floor. It
felt so good to slide into Skinner's waiting arms, and the warmth of that huge double bed.
"You have to trust me, boy," Skinner
whispered into Mulder's ear, in a low growl. His Master's strong fingers wrapped around
Mulder's wrists, and his legs encased Mulder's thighs in a firm hold, so that the slave
found he couldn't move.
"Your performance at the weekend is my
responsibility," Skinner told him firmly. "It'll be a testament to my training
abilities. Any failure will be mine. Your only thought should be pleasing me, and that
is all that I ask from you. You should know that by now, boy. I've told you often
enough."
"Yes," Mulder whispered, his mind heady
from the scent and sensation of being wrapped up in his Master's reassuring arms.
"You can ignore everyone else. If I display
you - either privately or in public - it is solely for my pleasure, not for theirs.
It's unlikely that you'll even notice them much during your display on Saturday
anyway," Skinner told him.
"Why?" Mulder asked, his throat dried.
"Will I be blindfolded or something?"
"Blinkered," Skinner informed him.
"With a nervous, newly-broken colt like you, blinkers will definitely be required.
You'll only be able to see what's straight ahead, and you'll concentrate on my commands.
Nothing else will matter."
"Blinkers?" Mulder mulled that thought
over for a moment. "Shit," he added. Skinner laughed again. "I
dunno
" Mulder shook his head, still in shock. "All these years of me
thinking of you as this dull bureaucrat without a life, and all this time you're the kind
of guy who participates in human pony races - naked, erect human pony races, what's
more
it's just too surreal."
Skinner gave another low laugh. "As a matter
of fact, I don't participate much in human pony races. I never had any reason to
before." He squeezed Mulder lightly. "I know what I'm doing, but it's not
exactly a hobby of mine. To be honest, I haven't spent hardly any time on the scene since
Andrew died. I've been something of a recluse. I do my duty as Guardian, and keep myself
available if people want to approach me with problems, but aside from that I haven't
indulged this side of myself much. Until I took on this new, wild, exotic, willful and
completely irresistible slaveboy, that is. He needs to mix, and he needs to be
shown off. It would be a crime to keep a boy like this locked up in an upstairs room, or
down in a basement. I think that he's been neglected for too many years."
"Oh yeah?" Mulder asked, suddenly going
very still. Skinner rarely spoke to him like this, and when he did, his slave loved it. It
was the kind of sappy stuff that he couldn't imagine ever being able to accept in his
persona as Agent Mulder, but as Fox, the slave, well - he had no choice, did he?
"Oh yes," Skinner affirmed. "This
beautiful slave shouldn't be locked up out of sight - he should be on display for all to
see. This boy has been left to his own devices for too long, ignoring his own needs even
while he was crying out for attention."
"Needs?" Mulder wasn't even sure that
he was breathing. He was enjoying this too much - being in his Master's bed, being held so
tight, listening to his Master's voice, lulling him to sleep.
"Yes. This boy needs discipline,"
Skinner chuckled, squeezing Mulder's butt lovingly with his hand. "He needs a firm
hand, someone to take him down, someone to obey, and to worship
and he needs to be
loved, whether he wants it or not. He needs someone strong enough to take all his crap,
and never let go, because he belongs to his Master and because he just needs to see how
beautiful that can be, the belonging, and the being belonged to in turn. The slave belongs
to the Master, and the Master belongs to the slave."
"Yes?" Mulder grinned stupidly to
himself. "So, if you belong to me, how come you dont have my mark on you the
way you keep me marked? Huh?"
"I do," Skinner whispered in his ear.
"Only the mark you've placed on me isn't visible. It isn't carved on my skin, Fox,
but on my heart."
"Oh." Mulder felt a profound sense of
something slotting into place. "Oh, well then, that seems fair," he whispered,
his whole body relaxing in his Master's arms. "Ow!" His eyes snapped open, as he
felt the sting of a slap on his backside. "What was that for?" He complained.
"Because I can." Skinner chuckled in
his ear. "Or are you going to report me to P.E.T.S for ill treating you?"
"I've already emailed them with a long list
of complaints and grievances," Mulder grinned.
"Somebody clearly wants to go to sleep with
a very hot bottom," Skinner growled menacingly, slapping his slave's butt
again with mock severity. "Now sleep, boy, and no more talk of fleeing. I'm not
inflicting this weekend on you - when you get there, I think you might actually enjoy it.
You'll just have to trust me."
"I do," Mulder muttered sleepily,
snuggling down further under the covers, reveling in the feel of his Master's warm, naked
flesh against his own. "I do, Walter."
Despite his Master's best efforts, Mulder was
wound up like a ball of string by the time Friday evening arrived. He did his best to obey
his Master, by not running home from the Metro, but even so, he couldn't resist
jogging up the entire 17 flights of stairs and thus arrived at the apartment panting
heavily, to find a woman he vaguely recognized as their neighbor from across the hallway
standing in the living room. She was a large lady, with spiky blonde hair and a wide,
smiley face.
"Hi, I'm Fox Mulder
" He held out
his hand, and gave her his most charming smile and she melted. Visibly.
"Fox - this is Mrs. Asher. She's going to be
looking after Wanda for us this weekend," Skinner said, emerging from the kitchen
with a glass of iced tea which he handed to their guest.
"Looking after
? We're only going for 2
nights, M
uh, Walter," Mulder remonstrated with a wry glance in Mrs. Asher's
direction. "How much looking after does one cat need? You can leave food and water
for her. She'll be fine for 2 days."
"Fine?" Skinner looked aghast. He
scooped the cat in question into his arms, and held her against his face. "She'll be
lonely!" He scolded Mulder over Wanda's gleefully purring head. "All on her own
for two days! My poor baby," he crooned, rubbing Wanda behind the ears.
Mulder winked at Mrs. Asher and raised his eyes
heavenward. She choked on her ice tea as she tried desperately to suppress a giggle.
"You know where everything is, Mrs.
Asher," Skinner continued, ushering the lady into the kitchen with one big arm, while
still cradling Wanda with the other. "There's dried food in this cupboard, canned
food here
" He opened the various cupboard doors. "She only drinks water -
not milk, that gives her a funny tummy, doesn't it, sweetheart?" He tickled the cat's
stomach. "And don't forget her kitty grass, Mrs. Asher. She sometimes likes to chew
on that. Sometimes she brings it back up though. Just leave that - I'll clear it up when I
get back on Sunday."
"Of course, Mr. Skinner," Mrs. Asher
said exchanging another glance with Mulder behind Skinner's back.
Mulder put his finger to his forehead and twisted
it slowly, a sad expression on his face. "Nuts," he mouthed silently to Mrs.
Asher, safely out of sight of his Master. Mrs. Asher feigned a sudden coughing fit.
"You will come in twice a day, won't you?
She'll miss her cuddles
" Skinner said in a worried tone, tweaking Wanda's ears
anxiously.
"Twice a day. I'll stay for an hour each day
so that she can sit on my lap and have a cuddle," Mrs. Asher said reassuringly.
Mulder bit on his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Mrs. Asher was clearly having the
same problem.
"I'll leave the vet's details just in case,
and my cellphone number so you can reach me. Call me any time, day or night," Skinner
told her, holding Wanda up in the air over his head, then lowering her down gently so that
he could kiss her nose.
"Day or night, Mrs. Asher," Mulder
repeated sternly. "Just call. And remember that her favorite toy is that red mouse
over there. She likes you to throw it so she can retrieve it. I've always thought that was
some kind of dog envy myself," he mused. Skinner cast a suspicious glance in his
direction.
"I can't tell you what a relief it is,
knowing that Wanda will be taken care of," Mulder continued. "Walter does
worry so, don't you, dear?" He patted his Master's arm without the slightest
temerity. Skinner's eyes narrowed. Mulder smiled angelically in the certain knowledge that
he was safe while Mrs. Asher was present.
"I'm not the only one who should be
worried," Skinner growled.
Mulder shook his head. "Oh, I'm worried too.
You wouldn't believe how worried," he camped up. "But Walter's such a
softie. You wouldn't believe it to look at him, Mrs. Asher." He dropped his voice,
and adopted a conspiratorial tone.
"No, I wouldn't!" she laughed, patting
his arm like an old friend, "and do please call me Sofia."
"Sofia. What a beautiful name," Mulder
purred.
"My mother was Spanish although you'd never
know it," Mrs Asher beamed, pointing at her blonde hair and pale complexion.
"She christened me Sofia Luisa, after her mother."
"Well do please call Walter by his
first name. It's so nice knowing we have a treasure like you living just opposite. We know
you'll take good care of our little angel while we're gone." Mulder patted Wanda
negligently on the head. "There pookums, Sofia is going to take good care of you
while Daddy and Daddy are gone."
Mrs. Asher's face went a shade of bright, amused
red with the stress of not giggling at this remark, while Skinner's glare reached a new
height of surliness.
"I'm so glad Wanda will be in such safe
hands," Mulder added, escorting Mrs. Asher to the door.
"And I'm glad that Walter is in such good
hands," Mrs. Asher confided to him, still giggling. "We worried about him after
Andrew died you know," she whispered. "Night after night alone in his
apartment."
That brought Mulder up short, and he nodded, his
face growing suddenly serious. "Well, you know, that's why he worries so much about
Wanda," he murmured. "He knows what it's like to be lonely," he mused
thoughtfully.
She stared at him for a moment, with a look of
respect on her face, then took his hand and squeezed it. "But not any more. I think
you're good for him," she whispered.
"And he's good for me too. Thanks,
Sofia," he squeezed back, "and, uh, thanks for looking after the cat from hell
too," he grinned.
She laughed and waved goodbye to Skinner over his
shoulder. "Don't worry, Walter. Wanda will be fine," she assured him, then she
left.
Mulder turned back to face the music.
"Two years of being on perfectly respectable
last name terms with the woman and you ruin it all in 2 minutes," Skinner lamented,
putting Wanda down on the table.
"Calling someone by their first name does
not signify that the relationship is in tatters," Mulder pointed out. "She's
wonderful. I like her."
"Obviously," Skinner growled. "I
don't know, a couple of months ago you were red-faced and embarrassed at the very idea
that Donald and Elliott might think you're gay, and now you've turned into some kind of
camp caricature. It's ridiculous."
"And fun," Mulder winked. "She
loved it! She knew about you and Andrew so it hardly came as a surprise to her that you
and I are together."
"Hmph." Skinner gazed at his slave
speculatively. "Someone is high this evening," he commented.
"Well what do you expect? I haven't been
able to run, you've had me in bondage for the past couple of nights hardly able to move,
and tomorrow you're making me parade naked with a hard-on in front of a crowd of
people," Mulder groused. "It's no wonder I'm off my head."
"You know, I think it's time to mark
you," Skinner said, giving his slave a dark, intense stare. "That might settle
your nerves and remind you of your status - something you seem in danger of forgetting,
boy."
Mulder's stomach churned, and he hated himself
for loving Skinner in full masterful mode so much. "Yes, Master," he whispered
weakly, feeling as if his legs were turning to jell-o.
"Go up to the Playroom." Skinner took
the key from around his neck and handed it to his slave. "And get undressed. Wait for
me there. When I'm through with you, we have some packing to do."
"Yes, Master," Mulder said quickly,
running up the stairs two at a time. Damn, but he'd never burn off this excess energy. He
was just too wound up.
He was breathing heavily by the time he got to
the Playroom - nervous breathing. He tried to calm himself the way his Master had taught
him, tried to find the silent serenity of his slavery, but it eluded him. He removed his
clothing swiftly, and then surveyed the jumbled mess of pants, socks, briefs and so on. He
should have undressed slowly, and tried to get control of himself again. With a sigh, he
bent down and retrieved the clothes, forcing himself to go slowly, then he folded each
garment and left them tidily on the table. Finally, he was done. He knelt down, and
pressed his nose against the floor in the confessional position, taking deep breaths but
he just couldn't relax. He sprang up again a moment later, and paced the room anxiously,
lost in a whirlwind of emotions. He was so distracted that when two warm hands descend on
his shoulders he almost jumped out of his skin in surprise.
"Relax," a deep voice murmured in his
ear.
"I can't," he growled in reply.
"Yes, you can. Stay still."
Mulder stiffened, but managed to still his
restless feet for a moment. His Master pulled him close, so that his back was resting
against the big man's broad chest.
"Still, and quiet. Breathe in time with
me," Skinner ordered, placing one large hand over Mulder's diaphragm.
Mulder closed his eyes, and relaxed against
Skinner's large bulk, finally feeling a shaky peace flood into his stressed limbs.
"I'm in charge of you this weekend,
boy," Skinner told him, in that same low, intense voice. "You'll answer only to
me. Your only significant duty is to please me. Nothing else. You give everything else up
to me. Your nerves, your fears, everything, and trust me to take good care of you."
Mulder found his breathing slowing, and a sense
of deep calm seeping through his body.
"In a minute, I'm going to mark you as my
property. You'll accept my mark onto your body with pride, and wear it with the same
pride. You'll want to show it off. You won't be ashamed. Yes, it will hurt - and you'll
accept that pain as a sign of your devotion to your Master. It's my pleasure to hurt you,
and your duty to endure."
Mulder sighed deeply, his cock starting to stir
in response to words he found highly erotic for reasons which eluded him. There was
silence for a while, during which Skinner kept his hand gently positioned over his slave's
abdomen, monitoring his breathing.
"Are you ready to serve me?" Skinner
asked a few minutes later.
Mulder took one more deep breath, then nodded.
"Good. Go and lie face down on the massage
table. I'll be using the cuffs on you for this marking as I need to be very precise."
Mulder nodded again, and walked slowly over to
the table, as if in a dream. He positioned himself face down on the cool leather table,
and a few seconds later, his Master came over and spread his slave's legs, then fastened a
leather pouch in place to protect Mulder's genitals. He fastened cuffs to Mulder's ankles
and wrists, and a strip of leather over his waist to keep him secure, before moving back
over to the cupboard. Mulder watched, his stomach churning, as Skinner withdrew his
special cane. He'd only used it once before to mark his slave, but Mulder remembered the
sensation vividly. He choked back a small whimper. He would do as his Master had
instructed, and accept any pain his Master wished to inflict on his waiting body. That was
the only way in which he could show his devotion at this moment in time, bound and
helpless as he was. He knew his cock was hard beneath him, and equally, knew it wouldn't
get any release today. Mulder tensed his buttocks as his Master returned to the massage
table, but the marking didn't commence immediately. Instead, Skinner ran the tip of the
cane over his slave's waiting, trussed body, soothing him with words of endearment. Mulder
started to relax, knowing what would come next, but at the same time no longer resisting
it.
"There will be just four strokes, Fox, but
they'll count," Skinner warned him.
Mulder nodded. He felt the cane rest on the far
left side of his left buttock, and then there was a long pause. Finally, he felt a surge
of energy, as Skinner raised the cane and brought it down hard in one smooth, practiced
movement. The pain didn't kick in until a moment later, and then Mulder gave a little sob
as the sting consumed his body.
"Oh, shit," he whispered.
"Good boy. Hold still. This is delicate
work," Skinner told him.
Mulder felt the cane rest diagonally for a
moment, between the bottom of the last stroke, and the crease between his buttocks, then a
split second later, the marking continued.
"Fuck!" Mulder moaned. "Oh, god,
Master, that cane is evil."
"It is a very impressive instrument. Luckily
you're only being marked - not punished," Skinner said with a chuckle. Mulder wasn't
quite sure why that constituted being "lucky". He certainly didn't feel lucky at
this moment in time. His sore left buttock was throbbing. Now Skinner laid the cane on his
right buttock, and delivered two more strokes in swift succession. Mulder was suddenly
grateful for his bonds, or he was sure he'd have reared up as the last one hit home. His
whole bottom felt as if it had strips of pure fire imprinted on it.
"Good boy. Very nice," Skinner said in
a proud voice. "I think you'll like what I've done, Fox."
He undid the straps tethering his slave to the
table, and helped him up, then ruffled his slave's hair, drawing him into a deep kiss.
Mulder surrendered, as he always did when kissed like this. Skinner seemed to find a way
into his very soul when he kissed him. As the embrace continued, his Master's fingers
roamed lightly over his slave's newly marked flesh, tracing the line of the strokes, in a
way that hurt as much as it was blindingly erotic. Mulder squirmed and surrendered even
more to the plundering mouth, and the equally demanding fingers. Finally, Skinner released
him, and he swayed for a moment, light-headed.
"Come and see what I've done," Skinner
said with a grin, leading his slave over to the mirror. He placed Mulder with his back to
the mirror, then moved a couple of steps away. "All right - you can look now,"
he commanded and Mulder turned his head, glanced over his shoulder, to survey his bottom -
and gasped. There, marked on his flesh in vivid red lines, was a perfect 'W', the two 'V's
separated by the crease between his buttocks. "See how smooth the line is - how the
strokes meet at the right points." Skinner used the cane to lightly trace over the
marks on Mulder's flesh, illustrating what he was saying. Mulder shivered, unable to take
his eyes off of his newly marked body.
"It's
perfect," he whispered
finally, sinking to his knees, and bestowing a kiss on his Master's shoes. "Thank
you," he said, feeling an absurd sense of giddy joy at bearing his Master's initial
on his body. "Please, promise me you'll brand me one day," he asked sincerely,
sitting back on his knees and gazing up at his Master in supplication.
"Branding is a sign of commitment - the
brand can never be removed. Maybe one day you'll belong to a different Master, and hate
having my brand on your skin," Skinner told him sincerely.
"Like Johnny Depp," Mulder offered.
Skinner raised a puzzled eyebrow. "He still had Winona Forever tattooed on his arm -
long after she dumped him," Mulder explained.
"Right," Skinner grinned. "So,
we'd have to be sure."
"I am sure," Mulder said
fiercely. "The only way I'd ever belong to anyone else is if you sold me,
and
you wouldn't do that, would you?" He asked fearfully.
Skinner smiled down on his worried slave, and
placed the tip of the cane beneath Mulder's chin, drawing it up so that he could look into
the other man's eyes.
"You'll always belong to me, boy," he
promised. "You're mine. That's all there is to it."
Mulder nodded, and kissed his Master's feet
again. "Then brand me, Master," he said. He hesitated for a moment, then
swallowed his pride. "I beg you," he pleaded in a hoarse whisper.
Skinner leaned over and grasped a fistful of
Mulder's hair. "Very well, boy. I will," he said, his tone so sincere that it
sent shivers down Mulder's spine. This moment was sacred. What had passed between them had
been almost like an exchange of vows. How much better would the moment be when he was
actually branded, his hide scored for life, marking him completely, and irrefutably as
Walter Skinner's property? Mulder quivered in anticipation at the very thought, and his
Master smiled down on him and released his slave's hair, smoothing it back down on his
head.
"Not now, boy, but soon. Now, get up. We
have more mundane matters to deal with."
"Do we need all this stuff, Master?"
Mulder surveyed the two huge open cases that Skinner wanted to take.
"Yes, we do, slave," Skinner replied,
handing Mulder a pair of thigh-high leather boots to pack. "Murray has a lot of
equipment at his place, but I wouldn't dream of allowing him to decide on my slave's
manner of dress - or my own. This will be a full scene party, boy. We want to look the
part, don't we?"
"You mean I actually get to be
dressed?" Mulder asked wryly.
"Some of the time. If you're good,"
Skinner replied with a laugh, and a mock swat in the direction of his slave's newly marked
butt. "Although 'dressed' is a less accurate term than 'decorated.' He handed Mulder
a harness, and some chains which made his slave shiver, although he didn't have time for a
closer examination. "All right, we're done here - except for your briefcase of
course," Skinner smiled. "We wouldn't like to go anywhere without the implements
we keep in there, would we, boy?"
"No, Master," Mulder replied demurely
from under long eyelashes, a grin curving along his lips. Skinner laughed out loud and
handed him a case.
"Get dressed, boy, and meet me downstairs. I
have a goodbye to make." And so saying, he retrieved Wanda from her vantage point
peeping out from inside her slave's tee shirt in the other case, and stalked off with her
under one arm, whispering endearments to the little cat as he went.
The journey to Murray's house was all too short
for Mulder, although Skinner did at least allow his slave to sit in the front seat, like a
man, and not in the back like a puppy. As soon as they arrived, they were greeted by
Murray, who was wearing another of his bright, kaftan robes, in a startling shade of
sunburst yellow.
"Walter, glad you could make it. You've
turned down so many invitations to my parties that I'd almost stopped issuing them,"
Murray beamed. "Especially the weekend events. I think this young scoundrel is having
a good effect on you." He beamed at Mulder. "I've given you and your boy the
biggest guest bedroom, as befits our glorious Guardian," he winked, and Skinner
grinned, and slapped his host heartily on the back. They followed Murray up a flight of
stairs, along an enormous corridor to the end, and into a huge room. It contained a
massive double bed, and an en suite bathroom, and Mulder was seriously impressed.
"No wonder you have so many parties,"
he whistled, glancing around, then he bit on his lip anxiously, annoyed with himself for
talking out of turn, but Murray just laughed.
"Exactly - a big place like this feels empty
without people, and I love to see my friends. We're nice and secluded here as well, with
extensive grounds, so we can dress and behave any way we like, out of sight of prying
eyes. I'll leave you two to unpack, then you can meet us downstairs for something to
eat," Murray said.
"Thank you." Skinner nodded at his
friend. "Murray," he said, as their host turned to go. The other man looked
back, questioningly. "I mean it - it's good to be here, relaxing like this. I think
it's going to be an
interesting weekend."
"Walter - it's always an honor to have you
here - and your young scamp too, of course. I've got the muzzle out ready downstairs in
case you need to use it again," he commented wryly, winking at Mulder.
"He won't," Mulder interjected swiftly.
"Sir," he added, as Skinner frowned at him. His Master clicked his fingers and
Mulder sank to his knees immediately. Skinner put a finger over Mulder's mouth.
"Deep submission, slave. No speaking from
now on unless I ask you a direct question."
Mulder nodded, wide-eyed, and Murray laughed
again, and patted him on the head. "You've come a long way, scamp. I'll be interested
to see what new tricks your Master has taught you since I last saw you." So saying,
he left. Mulder continued kneeling, nervously, by his Master's side.
"Undress, slave. Then run me a bath and
unpack. I'll wear the cream-colored shirt and black leather pants tonight. If any of my
clothes are creased, go and get and iron, and see that they are returned to their usual
pristine condition. Remember, my appearance reflects upon you. I've brought some boot
polish," Skinner pointed to one of the cases. "Unpack it and have it ready to
bring downstairs later. You can be polishing my boots while I talk to my friends."
Mulder nodded, his cock responding with its usual
desperate lurch for freedom, taking no notice of the fact that it wasn't getting any
release until after it performed to his Master's satisfaction during the pony trials.
He busied himself running his Master's bath, and
unpacking his Master's clothing, hanging it in the wardrobe. Skinner was insisting on
nothing less than full slave mode, and Mulder threw himself into the tasks. He undressed
his Master carefully and attentively, not even daring to steal his usual quota of kisses
along the big man's collarbone, which was one of his favorite spots. Instead he helped his
Master into the bath then knelt submissively, awaiting further orders. He couldn't quite
manage to keep his head lowered while Skinner bathed. His Master's body was too beautiful
for that. He snuck a look, through his eyelashes, at Skinner's broad chest, covered in
little curls of hair, and vowed that he would do his best to make his Master proud of him
over the course of the next couple of days.
"Soap me," Skinner ordered
peremptorily, breaking into his reverie, and Mulder did as ordered, then washed the lather
from his Master's body. "Dry me," Skinner commanded, getting out of the bath,
"then a shave. After that I want a massage. Nothing too deep - enough to relax me,
and coat my skin in oil."
"Yes, Master." Mulder scrambled to
obey. He performed the shave quickly, and efficiently, then helped Skinner lie down on the
bed. He loved massaging his Master. Often he used it as an excuse to take all kinds of
liberties with his Master's magnificent body, dipping his tongue or fingers between the
cleft in Skinner's buttocks, sucking his Master's broad, inert cock as it lay sleeping
atop his balls, or gently kissing his way down his Master's spine, but on this occasion he
didn't dare. He confined himself to a respectful massage, and when he'd finished, he knelt
beside the bed, eyes down.
"Very nice." Skinner sat up, and lifted
his slave's head to bestow a kiss on his mouth. "Now, you can use my cast-off water
to wash yourself, boy, and that includes your hair. I want you looking clean and
beautiful. You have twenty minutes and then I want to inspect you."
"Yes, Master."
Mulder did as ordered. When he returned to the
other room, Skinner was sitting in the armchair in his robe, waiting. Mulder sank to his
knees again, awaiting further orders.
"Oil yourself." Skinner handed him the
bottle of oil. "And make it interesting. I want to watch." So saying, he opened
his robe, and began gently stroking his own cock, waiting expectantly for his slave to
amuse and entertain him.
Mulder took the oil, nervously, and poured some
into his hands. He hated putting on a performance, but he loved the idea of his Master
being aroused by his actions and when he got into it, he always found his deeply buried
exhibitionist streak and ended up enjoying himself enormously. He put his head on one
side, and allowed his tongue to moisten his full lower lip, then began to massage to oil
into his chest, and down towards his groin. He lazily played with his cock, until it began
to harden under his insistent embrace, watching all the time as his Master sat back,
enjoying the floor show, his own wide cock already hard.
Mulder ran his hands across his lower back, then
turned, and displayed his naked, marked butt to his Master, sliding his fingers over it,
and dipping them into his own anus, stretching it, and moaning slightly as the motion sent
a thrill of arousal through his body. He turned back, and continued down, sliding the oil
over his legs, and arms, around his neck, and back down to his cock, never taking his gaze
off his Master's dark eyes as he worked. Skinner rocked back in the chair, his cock large
and pulsing.
"Come over here and finish what you've
started," he ordered, his eyes twinkling. Mulder obeyed, ensconcing himself between
his Master's legs, and taking that large hard cock in his mouth. "Hands behind your
back," Skinner ordered, "take care of me with just your mouth." Mulder did
as he was told, then ran his eager tongue over his Master's hard flesh. Damn, but this
felt good! He loved sucking his Master's beautiful cock, taking it into his body and
worshipping it. "Good boy," Skinner murmured, stroking Mulder's head as he
worked. A few seconds later he came, and Mulder swallowed his come, cleaned his Master
with his tongue, and then awaited further orders.
"Dress me," Skinner commanded, getting
up and discarding the robe. Mulder helped his Master into his tight leather pants,
lingering far more than was entirely necessary as he eased his Master's exquisitely long
legs into the shiny fabric. He knelt and buckled his Master's heavy shoes, then sat back
again, and adored the vision he had helped to create. Skinner looked magnificent - washed,
oiled, and clad in tight leather and a flowing shirt that revealed just a hint of the hard
muscle underneath. He resembled some noble warlord going out to dine after a victorious
battle, his favorite slaveboy at his side.
"As for you," Skinner murmured. "I
want everyone to see my handiwork, but I don't want to reveal everything just yet.
Here." He held out an identical set of leather pants to his own - with one
significant difference. The whole of the buttock area of the pants was cut away, leaving
the backside of the wearer completely exposed.
"Is this all I get to wear, Master?"
Mulder asked faintly, somehow knowing that neither a shirt nor underwear were going to be
an option tonight.
"Of course." Skinner smiled.
"Hurry up and get dressed. No shoes. I want you barefoot." Mulder hurried to get
ready. The pants slid on easily enough over his oiled flesh, and they fitted him like a
second skin. He wondered when his Master had instructed his tailor to make such a
diabolical item of clothing. It felt so strange to be ostensibly wearing trousers, but
with a cool draft wafting around his backside.
"Ah, the red on both sets of cheeks is so
becoming," Skinner teased, holding his slave at arm's length and surveying him. He
pushed his slave over to the mirror and made him admire himself. He looked absurd, Mulder
thought, although he had to admit that from the front, the tight leather pants suited him.
They hugged his flesh so tightly that the outline of his cock was clearly visible. Skinner
swung him around and ordered him to look at himself from the back. Mulder groaned as he
took in his freshly marked buttocks, the 'W' clearly visible, perfectly framed by tight,
shiny black leather. "Perfect," Skinner breathed. "Exquisite. This fine
ass, bearing the imprint of its owner's cane. I love it!" He grinned widely, then
grabbed his slave in an embrace, kissing him soundly, his hands splaying over Mulder's
bare bottom as he did so. "It'll be hard to keep my hands off this ass this
evening," Skinner exclaimed happily. "So temptingly displayed for all to see,
but belonging only to me. Mine alone - only I can touch it," he beamed at his slave
boy. "So, it's a good thing I won't have to resist the temptation," he
chuckled, with a slap to Mulder's butt. "With these pants I'll be able to help myself
whenever I please," he said, clearly extremely satisfied with himself. Mulder's cock
dug urgently against the confines of his pants, turned on to distraction by the thought of
being an available plaything, on display to the world, but available only for his Master's
exclusive use.
"We're not quite finished yet, of
course," Skinner said. He opened a slender case, and drew out a beautiful gold chain
which he fastened to Mulder's nipple rings. Then he attached another, much longer gold
chain to that one, in the center, creating a lead. "You're on the leash all evening
unless I say otherwise," Skinner informed his slave. "That means you walk to
heel, you obey every verbal or non-verbal command I give you, immediately, and without
protest. When I'm not holding your lead, you'll carry it in your mouth. Understood?"
Mulder nodded, said mouth having suddenly gone dry. He felt as if he'd died and gone to
some kind of erotic heaven. "Very well." Skinner gave the end of the lead a
light tug, that transmitted a pleasurable zing to Mulder's nipples, and the slave
immediately fell into step behind his Master, trotting along obediently behind as they
left the room.
Almost everybody stopped and looked at the two
newcomers as they entered. Mulder was aware of his Master receiving numerous admiring
glances, and a little whisper went around the room as people were aware that the
'Guardian' and his slave had arrived. Mulder felt a little surge of pride, being the
property of such an important Master. He flushed as he realized that not all the admiring
glances were for Skinner either. Some of the men allowed their eyes to linger for longer
than was entirely necessary on the half-naked, oiled slave on the end of the Guardian's
leash. Mulder flushed even more when Skinner led him into the center of the room and his
exposed butt went on public display. There was an immediate reaction, as people admired
his Master's handiwork, and some of them clustered around to get a better look at the
perfectly inscribed 'W' on Mulder's bottom.
"Can I touch?" Someone asked politely,
his finger hovering over the marking.
"Yes, but only in my presence, and with my
permission," Skinner told the little crowd in a firm voice. "Butt out,
slave," he ordered. Mulder's face was now almost purple with humiliation, but he
pushed out his butt and yelped slightly as several fingers traced the lines on his butt,
their owners whistling in awe and asking Skinner all manner of technical questions about
what kind of implement he'd used and the force required for the marking. Finally Murray
rescued them, showing them over to a large buffet laid out on huge wooden tables.
"More people are arriving tomorrow
morning," Murray told them as he waved at them to help themselves to the food. Mulder
found his Master a seat, and then went a filled a plate of food. He returned to Skinner's
side, and knelt, offering his Master the plate. Skinner was deep in conversation with
Hammer, and helped himself to the food, occasionally pressing a morsel into his slave's
mouth, ensuring that Mulder ate his fill too, even if he had no choice about what he ate.
Mulder felt himself descend into the serenity of
subspace. He loved being here next to his Master, and with Skinner clad in that sexy
costume. He glanced around the room, taking in a wide variety of clothing. He was used to
the outfits people wore on the scene, and some of the people this evening hadn't bothered
dressing up, but most had. Part of the fun of Murray's weekend parties was that people
could dress as outrageously as they wanted and nobody blinked an eye. There was one man
dressed from head to foot in a snakeskin outfit, several people clad in fantasy rubber
costumes, and a few people in stiffly starched uniforms. None of them looked as handsome
as his Master though, Mulder thought dreamily, placing his head on Skinner's knee.
"Hi Fox," a voice said, and he glanced
up to see Hammer grinning at him. He glanced at Skinner, unsure how to respond. He'd been
told not to talk, but it seemed rude not to reply. "Can I talk to him or is he
forbidden?" Hammer asked stealing a sandwich from Mulder's plate.
"He's in deep submission all weekend,"
Skinner replied, ruffling Mulder's hair fondly. "So you can talk to him - but don't
expect a reply! I'll let him know if he's allowed to converse."
"Cool." Hammer grinned at Mulder, and
sat down beside Murray. "He seems to have improved a lot since he was last
here," Hammer commented. "I take it the training's been going well."
"He's a fast learner, and eager to
please," Skinner replied. Mulder flushed from being the subject of a conversation he
wasn't included in. He gave a small whimper in the back of his throat and rested his chin
on Skinner's knee again, gazing at his Master mournfully.
"I envy him - still new to his condition,
still learning. It's a beautiful time," Hammer sighed, winking at Mulder.
"Yes, it is." Skinner smiled. "Put
the plate down, boy, and sit up. I want that ass on display for my pleasure at all
times." Mulder did as instructed, wondering if he was going to be blushing all damn
evening, as his Master maneuvered him into position so that his butt was sticking out for
all to see.
"Nice marks," Hammer commented
cheerfully between mouthfuls of a sandwich.
"I intend to mark him permanently
soon," Skinner said with a smile.
"Branding?" Hammer smiled at his own
dom, and kissed Murray's cheek. "I envy you that as well then, Fox. The day I
was branded was one of the happiest of my life."
Mulder closed his eyes as he remembered the smell
of the brazier, and the scent of burning flesh. It should have been horrific, it had to
have hurt like hell, and yet
he wanted it so much. Skinner grinned, and his hand
fondled his slave's bottom brazenly, making Mulder flush even more deeply, even as he
couldn't help but thrust back against his Master's hand, enjoying the way he was being
stroked.
"Fox, you have my permission to speak to
Hammer about your impending branding before we leave. Not tonight, but tomorrow or Sunday.
Make sure you do it before we leave," Skinner instructed. Mulder nodded, thanking his
Master silently for instructing him to do something he desperately wanted to do anyway.
"Walter - we have a House meeting scheduled
for this evening," Hammer said. "As you requested."
"Thanks. I don't want to break into
everyone's party time, but as most of us here, I thought it would be a good opportunity to
talk about an issue that came up recently," Skinner replied. Mulder's ears pricked up
at that and he wondered what the 'House' would be talking about.
He soon found out. After about an hour, Skinner
took his slave's leash and led him back up to their bedroom. "Get my boots and the
polish - bring the harness as well. I want everything shining for tomorrow," Skinner
ordered.
"Yes, Master," Mulder nodded.
"And everything in this case as well. I want
it done, boy, so you'll stay up until it's finished - understood?" Mulder nodded
again. It was so good being this deep in his slavery, and seeing Skinner so confident and
in command as a Master, taking their relationship to a level they had never been to for
this amount of time before. He felt his cock making another desperate bid for release
inside his tight leather pants, and sighed, hoping that Skinner wouldn't make him wait
until Sunday for his climax.
"I want you beside me, while you work, but
be silent," Skinner ordered. "We have a lot to discuss at the meeting, and I
don't want any interruptions. A good slave should be attentive to his Master at all times,
but not intrusive. If I need anything, I'll ask you."
"Yes, Master," Mulder gulped. This all
sounded so serious! Skinner smiled at him, relenting slightly, and pulled his slave close,
his hands going to Mulder's naked buttocks, and kneading them.
"You're doing well, boy. I'm pleased with
you," he growled, nipping Mulder's ear with his teeth, and then kissing him firmly on
the lips.
"I exist to serve you, Master," Mulder
said softly when he'd been released.
"Good." Skinner smiled.
The 'House' enclave was meeting in the library -
a large room with a roaring fire flaming in the grate. Skinner took his place at the head
of a large old table, and Mulder settled down beside him, and began his polishing work. He
stole glances at the other members of the House enclave as he worked. He was surprised to
see that Murray wasn't a member of this inner consortium of Scene elders - although Hammer
was. There were a few faces he recognized and many he didn't. The total number around the
table was 14, but Skinner was the only one with a slave in attendance - a right that
Mulder assumed was extended only to the Guardian.
"Thank you for taking time out from Murray's
wonderful hospitality in order to have this gathering," Skinner told the assembled
group. "It's been some time since we last met, and there are various issues we need
to discuss - one of which is very important."
Mulder's ears pricked up at that, although he
gave no sign that he had heard anything, concentrating instead on his polishing work. He
soon had Skinner's boots shining so brightly that he could see his own face in them. He
set them aside, and picked up the harness. The House business was actually fairly dull.
Discussions about funding workshops on safe practice, talk about the current state of the
scene, and continuing co-operation with the authorities so that scene venues weren't
raided by the police, as they had been routinely in the not-so-distant past. Mulder
glanced up at his Master, with a worried expression. It was late, and Skinner had been
working hard all week. The last thing he needed was to have to continue to work during his
leisure time. Mulder vowed that he would make sure his Master got a chance to relax at
some point during this weekend. He opened the case Skinner had given him, and gazed at the
contents in dismay, unable to stop the small gasp that passed his lips. His Master
swiveled his head to survey his slave, and Mulder bowed his head, and kept his mouth very
firmly closed. He turned back to the business in hand
which was a set of silver body
chains and something that looked very much like a horse's 'bit', complete with oiled
leather reins, and various other items of tackle. He swallowed down a deep sigh, and
continued polishing.
"Finally, last on the agenda, is an informal
complaint I received from a sub player a couple of weeks ago," Skinner said. Mulder's
ears pricked up again. This was clearly about Ian. "The player came to my apartment
in the middle of the night in a highly agitated state and made some accusations against a
top he had been playing with. He refused to give a name, so I can't take the matter
further, but I would like you all to be aware of the situation. If it happens again, and a
formal complaint is made, then we might need to take action."
Mulder wondered what form 'action' might
constitute. The conversation continued, and he listened intently, his curious mind taking
in all the details, enthralled at being allowed access to the secret workings of this
inner sanctum.
It was gone midnight by the time the meeting
finished. Mulder packed away the paraphernalia he had been working on, and opened the door
for his Master, then followed him back to their bedroom. Skinner sank down on the bed with
a weary sigh.
"Master works too hard," Mulder
murmured, kneeling down in front of the other man and removing his shoes and socks.
"Slave is forbidden to talk without
permission," Skinner growled in reply.
"Slave is worried about his Master's
wellbeing," Mulder replied, kissing the deliciously naked feet in front of him. There
was silence for a moment, then Skinner laughed, and shook his head.
"Slave should seriously consider how close
he might be to being hauled over his Master's knee for his impudence," Skinner said
in a gruffly amused tone.
"Slave would enjoy that far too much for his
Master to even consider using it as a serious deterrent," Mulder replied in kind. He
pushed Skinner's knees apart and began unbuttoning his Master's shirt, taking his time,
lingering over the task, delighting in revealing a small portion of golden flesh, pressing
kisses against his Master's newly naked torso. Skinner put his hands back on the bed, and
allowed his slave his devotion. Mulder moved on to his Master's pants, undoing the belt,
and unzipping his Master. Skinner stood up and Mulder eased the pants down his Master's
legs, and then hung them in the closet. Skinner disappeared into the bathroom and Mulder
heard him using the toilet, then cleaning his teeth, before he reappeared in the doorway,
a frown on his face.
"Slave - you are under standing orders to be
naked when we're alone together," his Master instructed, getting into the enormous
double bed. Mulder quickly shucked off his own leather pants and hung those up, visited
the bathroom himself, then finished tidying up his Master's discarded clothing. When he
turned back, Skinner was lying in the bed, his head propped up on his hand, watching his
slave work.
"Master," Mulder began uncertainly.
"Am I to sleep in the bed with you, Master, or on the floor beside you?"
"Oh, I think I want my slave to keep me warm
this evening," Skinner said, pulling back the sheet invitingly.
"I haven't finished all the
polishing
" Mulder began.
"You can do it tomorrow morning. First
thing. Now get in. You've been tormenting me with the sight of that great ass all evening
- I want to get my hands on it."
Mulder didn't need any further prompting. He slid
eagerly into the bed beside his Master, and Skinner turned out the light. Then he pounced
on his slave, pushing Mulder onto his back, and pinning him against the pillow.
"You are doing extremely well in your
service here, little one," he murmured, idly stroking big, blunt fingers through
Mulder's hair. "I'm proud of you."
"I'm enjoying it," Mulder replied
honestly, his own fingers making out the shape of his Master's beloved face in the dark;
the wide planes of his cheeks, and jaw, the fullness of his lips, the dimple in his chin,
and the rough stubble on his skin. "I was surprised that Murray wasn't at the meeting
this evening, Master."
"Murray isn't a member of the House
committee. Hammer is," Skinner replied. "Why does that surprise you, slave?
You've seen them both in action. Hammer is a proactive kind of person, very go-getting. He
likes to be involved in things. Murray is more laid back. He leaves the serious stuff to
his sub."
"I know. I suppose I just
" Mulder
shrugged.
"When will I ever cure you of the
notion that subs are somehow second class citizens? They aren't. There are more subs on
the scene than tops, and more subs on the House committee than tops. It's pure chance that
I'm the Guardian, Fox. There have been previous holders of that title who were as
submissive as you can imagine in the bedroom - that doesn't mean they weren't effective as
Guardians."
"Oh." Mulder's eyes had become
accustomed to the dark, and he caught Skinner's wry shake of the head.
"I mean, god, look at you. Like a terrier
after a rat in your work, the most assertive agent I've ever had arguing with me in my
office," Skinner grinned. "Just because you enjoy a certain kind of sex
doesnt mean you aren't also assertive and extremely strong-willed - as I know all
too well," he finished in a rueful tone of voice.
"But I
" Mulder began but his
Master interrupted him.
"Think about it, boy - but not now,"
Skinner said, the faintest outline of a grin showing on his face. "Because now,
I'm going to use you. I'm going to make love to this beautiful slave, until he's begging
me to allow him to come."
"Please
Master, use me however you
want. I'm yours," Mulder whispered, so enthralled by the utter joy and serenity of
his own submission during his servitude and display this evening, as well as by his
Master's towering domination that he didn't even care that he wouldn't be allowed to come.
"Good boy." Skinner slowly inserted one
long, probing finger into his slave's lubed anus, and Mulder sighed in contentment,
opening his legs wide to allow his Master better access.
Skinner loomed over him, pushing the slave's legs
up, so that they were resting against the big man's chest. Skinner's large hands came down
on the bed on either side of his slave's body, and then his face was so close to Mulder's
that if the slave moved his head forwards a couple of inches he could kiss his Master.
He felt his Master's hard cock nudging the
entrance of his anus, and opened his body, relaxing as his Master entered him, slowly, his
face still almost touching that of his slave. Then they were connected, and Skinner moved
inside his slave, adjusting his position to get comfortable, their eyes never leaving each
other's face. Slowly, infinitesimally, Skinner began to withdraw, and then to slide back
in. He dipped his head, and kissed his slave occasionally as he made love to him,
sometimes on the nose, or chin, sometimes pressing tongue deep into the other man's mouth
in a mirror image of the way his cock was entering his slave's body.
Mulder had never felt closer to his Master than
in this moment. Skinner's body was heavy inside him, pinning him down, his anus was filled
so pleasurably by his Master's large cock, and his Master's face was so near, his dark
eyes keeping his slave as transfixed as his hard, muscled body.
Mulder started to moan as Skinner's thrusting
picked up speed, unerringly finding his slave's prostate with each forward slide. Mulder's
cock was straining for a release he knew it wouldn't receive, but he didn't even care. He
just loved watching his Master's face as he took his slave so completely, filling him,
totally claiming him. Skinner's thrusts reached a crescendo, and Mulder felt as if he had
drifted away on a sea of the most intense pleasure. His focus had shifted from his own
neglected cock, to the sensation in his prostate, and the nearness of his Master's face,
brought closer with every forward thrust. Then his Master was crying out, his face
convulsing, but his eyes never leaving his slave's face as he came, crying out his slave's
name over and over again as he did. Mulder felt his Master shuddering inside him, and then
his own body was convulsing as he reached a state he had never known before - and he
orgasmed without coming.
It was an orgasm that started in his prostate and
then spread to every nerve-ending in his body, turning him into a boneless specimen of
slavehood, gasping as a white light exploded behind his eyes and he went into a state of
pure nirvana. He felt his body constricting around Skinner's cock, milking it for all that
he was worth, and Skinner was shouting, still convulsing with the power of his own climax.
They gazed at each other in disbelief, then the moment came to an end, and Skinner gave a
sigh, and slumped down on top of his slave, still inside him. Mulder found the strength
from somewhere to wrap his arms around his Master's damp, sweaty body, as they both panted
together in the aftermath of their mutual pleasure.
"God I love you," he whispered into
Skinner's ear.
"Yeah," Skinner managed to growl out.
"That
was
"
"I know," Mulder sighed. "It
was
it so was."
Skinner grinned, both of them clearly beyond
coherent speech. He withdrew from his slave, and rolled over, then pulled Mulder into the
circle of his big arms, both their bodies reeking of sex.
"Love you too," Skinner muttered in
Mulder's ear as they both fell asleep.
Mulder awoke early, too keyed up to sleep in. He
stretched, and grinned as he felt the slight soreness in his anus. Last night had been
good - the best he'd ever known. He almost laughed at himself for his trepidation last
week. The way he felt now, he would happily stay at Murray's house for the rest of his
life. He glanced over to his Master. Skinner was a heavy sleeper, and he still looked
tired, with dark smudges under his eyes. Mulder guessed that the responsibilities of the
past week weighed heavily on him. Even his role as Guardian was taxing, creating even more
duties for the big man. Mulder got up and washed, lubed himself again, in a familiar
morning ritual, cleaned his teeth and then sat down and finished the polishing his Master
had set him to do the previous night. The mindless ritual helped him return to that serene
mental state that he loved so much, stilling his ever whirling mind, and granting him
respite from himself. He took a pride in his work, determined that his Master wouldn't be
able to find fault with him. It took him an hour and then he glanced at his Master again.
Skinner was still asleep, but Mulder could hear the sound of cars pulling up outside so he
decided that it was time to wake his Master. He pulled on some jeans and went down to the
kitchen. Murray was there, dispensing freshly brewed coffee to various of his guests and
he beamed when he saw Mulder, and handed him two cups, with an admonishment to "drag
that lazy Master of yours out of bed
although with you in it I can see why he'd want
to stay there!"
Mulder grinned and walked back to the bedroom. He
placed the coffees on the nightstand, shucked off his jeans and crawled under the sheets,
then kissed his Master into wakefulness. Skinner blinked blearily, then focussed on his
slave with a dazed morning smile.
"I'd give you your more usual wake-up call,
but, uh, I wasn't sure if you'd gotten up to wash in the night," Mulder grinned.
"That's one of the problems of not using condoms any more I guess! Here," he
handed his Master his coffee. They drank in companionable silence, Mulder's head resting
on his Master's shoulder, and then Skinner sighed, and stretched.
"Up slave. Get me washed, dressed and ready
to face the world," he ordered.
"What will I be wearing, Master?"
Mulder asked in some trepidation.
"Your jeans - for now," Skinner
grinned, patting his slave's rump.
"What about
?" Mulder hesitated.
"Your morning spanking?" Skinner raised
an eyebrow. "Not cancelled - merely delayed. I want this butt freshly glowing when I
display you in your livery later on today."
"Yes, Master." Mulder quaked inside.
The morning passed in a haze of activity. Mulder
met up with Ian, who was newly arrived, and his Master gave him an hour's free time to
talk with his friends. He spoke to Hammer who served to confirm both his fears and hopes
about the branding.
"How badly exactly does it hurt?"
Mulder asked the other man.
Hammer shrugged. "Like nothing else. I won't
lie to you, Fox. It's the worst pain I've ever experienced, but it's a special kind of
pain, and if your Master has prepared you properly, and if you really want to accept his
mark, then
well, it's just beautiful. It's a mind-blowing moment, and I still get
pleasure out of it - both remembering the actual branding and looking at the result,"
Hammer said. Mulder exchanged a glance with Ian, who had also been listening.
"I'd say go for it," Ian said.
"You won't be really content until you're carrying his mark around on you the whole
time, Mulder."
"I know." Mulder nodded.
"Have you ever been fisted?" Hammer
asked, totally out of the blue.
"What?" Mulder stared at him, aghast.
"You might like to ask your Master to fist
you - that involves a great deal of trust too, and you have to be in the right headspace
for it, but if you can get into that, then you can get into the right place for branding
too. It gives me a similar feeling," he smiled dreamily. "Total subjection to my
dom's will."
"My Master has suggested it - and I'm sure
he'll do it at some point," Mulder muttered, "because he can do what the hell he
likes - but I haven't exactly brought the subject up."
"You should." Hammer grinned and patted
Mulder's cheeks. "Hell, do it all, Fox. You're young, and you're a long time dead.
He's already pierced you. Fisting, branding
these are other ways to enjoy the total
thrill of absolute submission."
Hammer laughed at Mulder's expression and
sauntered off to welcome some newly arrived guests.
"Ah, someone is getting sucked into the
darkest extreme possibilities of his submission," Ian teased.
"Idiot." Mulder punched him playfully
on the arm.
"Seriously, Mulder. He's right. I didn't
have long with my dom. If I'd known then what I know now, well
I wish we'd done more.
You have to go at your own pace though, and Walter seems pretty good at gauging what that
is."
"Yeah." Mulder nodded, then glanced out
of the window to see some strange apparatus being dragged out of an outbuilding. "Oh
shit," he sighed. "Are you going to participate in the pony trials, Ian?"
"Me? Not fucking likely," Ian grinned.
"I have too much fun watching. Last year I nearly peed my pants it was so
funny."
"Thanks. That makes me feel so much
better," Mulder groused.
"You'll make a beautiful pony," Ian
reassured him, with a wide grin. "Giddyap!"
Mulder stomped off in disgust, with the sound of
Ian's loud and dramatic neighing ringing in his ears.
Mulder rejoined Skinner in their bedroom, and was
immediately instructed to take a shower. When he'd finished, he presented himself, naked,
for his Master's attention.
"Dress me," Skinner ordered and Mulder
went about the task eagerly, helping his Master into a pair of the tightest fitting
jodhpurs, that made his long legs stretch on endlessly, and the sleek, shiny riding boots
he had polished for his Master the previous evening. Skinner wore a white shirt, with a
tie, and a red hunting jacket. Mulder stepped back when he'd finished and surveyed the
sight in awed silence. He could almost feel the drool dripping from every pore in his
body. Skinner didn't just look good - he looked magnificent. It was all Mulder could do
not to sink to his knees immediately and kiss those shiny black boots that had been
polished by his own hands.
"Do we have to go downstairs? We could just
stay here and
" he suggested, grinning.
"Control yourself, boy. You have work to do
before you can enjoy yourself," Skinner told him in a peremptory tone. Mulder sighed
and nodded.
"I'm missing something," Skinner
glanced around, then smiled. "Ah yes, of course. My crop," he said, with a truly
vicious smile in Mulder's direction. Mulder's stomach did a flip. "I think we'll use
the one with your inscription on it, boy. Get it from the case."
Mulder obeyed, and handed his Master the brown
leather crop, quivering slightly as he did so. Skinner tapped it menacingly against the
side of his boots for a moment, sending his slave into another paroxysm of desire.
"Put your jeans back on and carry this case
downstairs to the stables," Skinner ordered, sitting down on the bed. "And Fox -
from the moment you arrive in the stables you're a pony."
"Right." Mulder rolled his eyes, and
was surprised when his Master swung him over his knee, and delivered two hard swats to his
upturned ass.
"Do we need to do some more work on
reminding you of your status here?" Skinner asked.
Mulder gulped. "No, Master," he
whispered.
"Good," Skinner said. "However, I
think we need to make sure that the lesson really hits home." So saying he peppered
Mulder's ass with a series of extremely hard swats, until his slave was breathing heavily,
and clinging onto his Master's hard thighs for support. "Who do you belong to?"
Skinner demanded, spanking him fiercely with his big hand.
"You, Master,"
"And what are you?" Skinner asked.
"Whatever you say I am! Whatever you want me
to be! A fucking pony!" Mulder cried, as the swats rained down over and over again.
Skinner wasn't using an implement, but even so, he knew his ass had to be burning a deep
rosy pink by now.
"Again," Skinner insisted dangerously.
"With attitude adjustment this time."
"A pony, Master. Your
oh shit, Ow!
Your
pony. Your pony! Willing to serve you, any way I can!"
"Good," Skinner said again, slowing the
pace. He ran his hands lovingly over Mulder's ass, delivered one final, stinging swat,
then righted his errant slave. Mulder's hands immediately went back to his burning bottom,
trying to massage some of the throbbing pain out of his sore buttocks. Skinner stood up.
"Now, you're a pony. Which means you don't talk to anyone - including me, until I
tell you that you can. You can whinny, and neigh though - we wouldn't want you completely
silent after all," he grinned at his slave. "You can rear up, and you can even
bite and kick, although I'd recommend that you don't unless someone is touching you or I
might need to use my crop for more than just decoration. However, just because you are
participating in a public event doesn't give anyone permission to touch you.
Understood?"
"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, his
cheeks burning as red as his bottom.
"I'll let them pat you, and stroke your face
with my permission, but nothing else," Skinner told him seriously. Mulder nodded,
relieved. "All right - when we get you to the stables I'll give you more
instructions."
The stables were just like any normal stables -
with one significant difference: all the stalls were occupied by human 'horses.'
"We're stall number 8," Skinner said,
leading Mulder into one of the stalls, and placing the case on the floor. "All right,
ponyboy. Let's get you looking beautiful for your audience. Jeans off." Mulder
obeyed, standing silently as Skinner opened the large case they'd brought down, and
inspected the contents. "I'll just remove your cock ring - we dont want you to
have any help maintaining an erection - that wouldn't be fair." Skinner slid the ring
off Mulder's cock and balls as he spoke. "However, some decoration would be nice,
like a ribbon braided in a fine mane
" Skinner mused. He rummaged in his case
and withdrew a blue ribbon, complete with dangling silver bell. "Perfect,"
Skinner said, tying his slave's cock lightly with the ribbon, like a parcel, making sure
it was loose enough to accommodate the swelling of an erection, but taking the precaution
of fastening it around Mulder's buttocks as well, to make sure it didn't fall off.
Mulder stood still as his Master then massaged
oil into every square inch of his body, smoothing him down, until he glistened. He had to
admit that the sensation was entirely pleasurable, but then he always adored it when
Skinner caressed him. Skinner even massaged oil into his slave's cock, a sensation that
soon had Mulder leaning against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe, his eyes half
closed, and his cock standing to attention.
"Lovely," Skinner breathed in his ear
as he stood back to survey his newly gleaming slave boy. He slapped Mulder's butt
enthusiastically, then turned back to his case. He took out a pair of knee-length black
boots, and slid Mulder's feet into them. It was only then that the slave realized that the
boots ended not in a sole, but a round, solid hoof. He almost toppled over until he became
used to the different posture he had to adopt in order to stay upright in them.
"They stretch the calf muscles. You've got
an hour or so to get used to them though and you won't be in them for long," Skinner
said, stroking his slave to calm him.
Mulder watched as his Master returned to the case
and drew out the light body harness. It was beautiful, intricately woven out of silver
chains, and decorated in a myriad of tiny bells. Skinner strapped the harness over his
slave, so that the chains ran down in rivulets over his back and chest, and Mulder knew
without a doubt that his Master would insist that he prance in order to make the bells
ring. He bit on his lip and tried to concentrate on what was required of him but the damn
boots were so uncomfortable!
Next, Skinner took out a brush, and ran it
through his slave's hair, then surprised Mulder by carrying on down and brushing his newly
oiled body as well. The brush was only used lightly, but it soon got his blood zinging,
and somehow Mulder wasn't remotely surprised when his Master couldn't resist applying the
flat of the brush to his ponyboy's already flaming red bottom. "Hard and glistening
at the front, red and inviting from behind - just the way I like you, boy," Skinner
purred into Mulder's ear. His slave shivered, his cock bobbing in response to his Master's
words.
Skinner fastened cuffs on both of Mulder's
wrists, then took out a contraption made of leather and chain which he placed over his
slave's head.
"Open your mouth," Skinner ordered, and
Mulder knew that his humiliation was complete when his Master slipped the bit over his
tongue, and fastened it in place. He couldn't speak now, even if he had wanted to, and the
metal felt strange in his mouth, although it didn't hurt and wasn't more than
uncomfortable. Skinner fastened a set of leather reins to the silver bit, and they hung
down Mulder's back. Mulder couldnt stand it - and put his hands up to rip the bit
out of his mouth, only to find his way blocked by his Master's crop.
"Do I have to use this?" Skinner asked,
his tone deadly serious, and completely masterful. Mulder considered it for a moment his
cock reacting, as usual, to his Master's tone of voice, then, reluctantly, put his hands
down, and shook his head.
"Good boy
you look beautiful like
this," Skinner murmured, standing back and taking in the whole scenario. Mulder could
see himself in his Master's twinkling eyes - naked, erect, oiled, clad only in black
boots, and the silver chainmail harness, with a bit in his mouth. He supposed it was fair
enough - he found the sight of Skinner in that riding outfit good enough to eat, so there
was no reason why his Master wouldn't find his slave, similarly attired to befit his
status, equally appealing. Mulder shook his head and stomped a hoofed foot on the ground,
trying to get used to his new costume, and his Master laughed out loud.
"One last thing," Skinner said
ominously.
Mulder watched as his Master removed a large butt
plug from the case, with a long horsehair tail attached to one end. He backed away as
Skinner approached him with the butt plug and shook his head again, his eyes wide.
"I've warned you once." Skinner swung
his crop lightly at his slave's buttocks and Mulder's bells jangled as he jumped from the
sting of the implement on his oiled skin.
"Do I need to use it again?" Skinner
demanded. Mulder stared at him for a moment, then shook his head once more, in
acquiescence this time, and allowed Skinner to grab his bridle, and turn him around.
"Bend over," Skinner ordered, and Mulder braced himself against the stable wall.
He felt the tip of the butt plug against his anus, and then his Master slowly inserted it
until it slotted into place. With a whinny of sheer humiliation, Mulder stood up, feeling
the brush of the long tail as it hung down over the back of his knees.
"Ass out more - let that pretty tail swing
for all to see," Skinner ordered. "You know, this is a good look for you,"
he winked. Mulder opened his eyes wide in horror, and shot his Master a venomous look, but
Skinner refused to accept his ponyboy's lack of enthusiasm. "Submit, slave," he
ordered, "and later on, I'll show you the rewards that an obedient slave can enjoy.
Mulder gave a resigned nod and Skinner stroked him approvingly. "Good boy. Here's a
little reward to be going on with." Mulder watched curiously, as Skinner reached in
his pocket and withdrew a small carrot. He held it up to his slave's mouth, and Mulder
accepted the morsel, trying to figure out a way to chew on it with the bit in his mouth.
It was a messy business, but he managed to swallow it, with a little grimace of disgust.
"I'm going to lead you out into the paddock
to watch the dressage," Skinner said, holding his ponyboy's bridle, and stroking his
mane. "Only the experienced ponies participate in that. You, on the other hand, will
be a carriage pony. You'll be fastened to my carriage and pull me. The course isn't long,
and you've got more than enough pent-up energy to perform the task well."
Skinner pulled on Mulder's bridle, and led his pony out of the stables. Mulder walked
slowly, acutely aware of the strange new sensations of his unfamiliar clothing: the
bizarre, and hobbling footwear, and the feel of the tail against his buttocks. The large
butt plug was pressed deep inside his body making its presence felt with each movement,
and the silver bit felt strange over his tongue - to say nothing of humiliation of knowing
that his cock was swinging naked and visible in front of him, still semi-erect. Skinner
led him over to a wooden corral, and tied Mulder's reins loosely to the fence.
"Beautiful," a voice breathed in his
ear, and Mulder glanced around to see Ian looking him up and down. He made a face at his
erstwhile friend, who just smirked back, his smile stretching from ear to ear. "Oh,
your Master is going to LOVE rubbing you down when he's through putting you through your
paces," Ian told the hapless ponyboy.
Mulder hoped that his entire body language
conveyed the phrase "fuck off" adequately.
"Bells too!" Ian exclaimed admiringly,
"and such a lovely tail," he sighed. "Truthfully, Mulder, you're the best
looking pony here today - quite the thoroughbred. Those long sleek flanks, that velvety
nose, and
hmm, quite the stallion aren't we?" He joked, glancing at what Mulder
had lurching in an attempt at full erection between his legs. "Can I pet him?"
He asked Skinner. His Master nodded, and Ian grabbed Mulder's bridle and stroked his hair.
"Good boy," he murmured, examining the bridle and bit. "Nice teeth,"
he remarked to Skinner. His Master laughed and slapped his crop against the palm of his
hand.
"He's a fine looking animal," he
commented.
"And you take very good care of him, I
expect," Ian said, flicking at one of the bells so it chimed. Mulder scowled at him.
"Of course," Skinner nodded. "I've
invested considerable time in his training. A creature like this has to be
cherished."
A little crowd had gathered around them, and soon
other people were stroking Mulder's nose, and patting his head. He glared at them all
balefully, until a light smack on his rump from his Master's crop changed his attitude
into one of grudging acceptance. Someone put a sugar lump on the flat of their hand and
offered it to him, and Skinner nudged him to accept. It was at least easier to eat than
the carrot as the sugar melted on his tongue.
After several minutes of this, Mulder kicked his
'hoof' on the ground in what he hoped was a menacing fashion, trying to disperse the
little crowd. How the hell had he come to be standing here, dressed in this ridiculous
way, when he was a respected FBI agent, an Oxford graduate, with a string of
qualifications after his name for god's sake?
He glanced at the figure of his Master, clad in
that sexy riding outfit, still swinging his crop idly against the top of his boots and
remembered exactly why he was here. He lowered his head and nuzzled at Skinner's shoulder,
until his Master reached out a hand and tangled it in his slave's mane.
"Enjoy, Fox. It's not often we get a chance
to really play is it?" Skinner whispered in his slave's ear. Mulder looked up at him,
and sighed, recalling how work had come between them so many times, keeping them apart, or
placing stresses on both of them, meaning they had so much less time to spend together
than either of them would have liked. Skinner was right. It was hard to find the time to
really play, to indulge in fantasies this wild and crazy, to forget about Agent
Mulder and A.D. Skinner and just be slave and Master, and they had a whole weekend of it
here. Suddenly he felt free, and he managed a small grin around the sides of the bit.
"Good boy." Skinner bestowed a kiss on his slave's cheek, and pinched one of his
buttocks. "Remember what I said about that reward - and we're not talking about a
carrot or a lump of sugar here," he winked and Mulder's grin became even wider. This
whole pony thing definitely had its compensations.
Ian was right about the pony trials being fun.
Mulder was soon laughing so much he could barely stand, as the dressage horses were put
through their paces - some by their trainers, some on their own. It was ridiculous,
absurd, watching grown men canter across the corral, wheel around, and trot back, their
harnesses gleaming in the sun, and yet curiously fascinating too. They held up their front
legs and knelt down on their back ones, then swayed around in a circle. People patted
their noses, stroked their manes, and generally admired them. Mulder relaxed. Bizarre
though this whole thing was, he was actually having a good time. It would seem that there
were more extreme possibilities in the world than he'd ever uncovered on the X Files.
Finally, Mulder's turn came. He was ushered over
to a row of 6 buggies, and stood while Skinner fastened his wrist cuffs to the handles of
the buggy.
"Walk with it without me in it first - get
used to the feel of it," Skinner ordered, and Mulder obeyed. The buggy was light and
easily pulled, although he guessed that it would be harder with Skinner in it. "Walk
slowly, and lift your legs high at the knee with each step," Skinner told him,
tapping his kneecaps lightly with his crop. "You need to bring your knees up this
high with each step, and push that butt out more, boy. Let everyone see that fine ass.
Watch the other ponies and copy them. Remember - you're a display pony so make sure that
you give people something to look at."
Skinner came around in front of his slave, and
almost made Mulder jump out of his skin when he grabbed his slave's cock firmly in his
hand, and ran his thumb over the silky, glistening length. Mulder hardened almost
instantly - Skinner had trained him to respond to his Master's slightest touch.
"I want you to imagine," Skinner
murmured, looking deep into his slave's eyes, "that you're in one of those old
movies. Ben Hur maybe. You're pulling your Master's carriage triumphantly into town after
a great victory, and you're proud as hell to be serving him. Keeping this erect," he
squeezed and Mulder moaned, "shows me just how proud you are to be chosen to pull
your Master's carriage in the triumphal procession." Mulder closed his eyes, and
focused on the mental image that conjured up. He sighed, and thrust forward into his
Master's warm hand.
"Not yet. Keep it for me. Honour me with
it," Skinner hissed in his ear.
Mulder opened his eyes and glanced around
nervously at the crowd gathered to watch the race.
"Ignore them. You're staying hard for me -
and afterwards
" Skinner allowed the sentence to remain unfinished, full of
promise. Mulder nodded, uncertainly. "You'll barely see them anyway. First we have
the procession to the starting point - that is when you need to look your best for the
crowd. Then we line up for the main event, which is a short race. That over there is the
finish line. Don't worry about winning - people are mainly here just to prance and show
off. I don't want you twisting your ankles in your new boots. Just keep a comfortable
pace, and focus on me. If I pull on the reins, you need to alter your course
accordingly."
Mulder glanced anxiously at the long whip tucked
down the side of the buggy.
"I'll only use this if necessary - and only
very lightly to remind you of your duties," Skinner said, stroking his ponyboy's
mane. "All right, boy. I'm going to blinker you - I don't want you to be
distracted."
Mulder was sure that even if he got out of this
alive he'd never be able to live with the humiliation of it. He closed his eyes again as
Skinner attached the blinkers to his bridle. When he opened them, his field of vision had
been reduced significantly and he found he could only see what was directly in front of
him.
"Slave," Skinner said warningly,
touching Mulder's flagging erection. "Keep this hard, or t |