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.

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."

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 wasn’t 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. "Don’t 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 don’t 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 doesn’t 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 don’t 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 couldn’t 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