Lovely pic by Sergeeva

Posted 26th February, 2001

Many thanks to the following:

Gaby for pink thingummies and much- needed encouragement.

Ann and Penny for the wonderful gift of two beautiful teddy bears in bondage cuffs and thongs, one wearing a pair of specs, with a whip sewn to his paw, and the other sporting a pair of fine nipple rings on his furry chest, a gold chain around his neck, and a gold stitched wedding ring on his left paw... you made my day, gals!

Raven for the encouraging poem.

Emma for many recent spanky/XF chats and the usual standing thanks <G>

Russell Crowe (I saw him in Leicester Square last week and he was wearing some really nice spanky black leather gloves! <G> It was very inspiring!)

Quotation courtesy of my sweet Alex. 

24/7 is an erotic fantasy and NOT a BDSM resource guide. The truth is sometimes exaggerated, or played with, for dramatic effect. For more information, please visit the 24/7 BDSM Glossary.

Note: No, Oct 13^th didn’t fall on a Saturday last year. People who really care should remind themselves that Scully has been gestating her baby for 9 months without showing yet. It is therefore canon that time and dates are a curiously inconstant factor in the XF universe…<G> 

Warning: Enormously long chapter follows, crammed full of loving BDSM stuff...and there's a little bit of a difference in this chapter ;-)

24/7

By Xanthe

"A truth, still apparent, though disregarded, that
 things move violently to their place, but calmly in
 their place.  To put it another way, everything has
 its right home, the region that suits it, and, unless
forcibly restrained, will move thither by a kind of
 homing instinct."

Chapter 23: Lord Of Misrule

“I’m stuffed.” Mulder sank down on the couch with a contented sigh. “That meal was amazing, Master. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me how much it cost?”

“Very sure, boy.” Skinner glanced impassively at the restaurant receipt, and then transferred it from his jacket pocket to his wallet.

“That has to be one of the most expensive restaurants in Washington though,” Mulder commented, glancing down at his stomach, which was showing a distinct bulge through his shirt.

“It is.” Skinner grinned urbanely. He was dressed exquisitely, in a plain dark shirt, tie, and tailored chinos that hung in soft folds over his backside, accentuating the shape of his toned buttocks.

 “I can’t remember when I last even celebrated my birthday, let alone went to a place like that,” Mulder murmured, eating up the sight of his Master as Skinner removed his jacket and hung it neatly in the closet under the stairs.

“I know,” Skinner replied, coming to sit on the couch beside his slave. “Which is why I wanted to make the occasion special for you.”

“Thanks.” Mulder felt himself flushing slightly. He knew his Master loved him, but somehow it always took him by surprise when he was given tangible proof of that love. Skinner wrapped a large arm around his slave, and pulled Mulder’s head down onto his lap. Mulder gave a relaxed sigh, and settled back, gazing up at his Master as Skinner stroked his hair. Skinner had sent his slave a message at work earlier in the day, telling Mulder to meet him at the restaurant at 7pm. He was not, under any circumstances, to go home after work – he was to go straight to the restaurant. Mulder had been even more intrigued when he had called Skinner’s office at ten past five to find that the other man had already left for the day, and he had wondered whether Skinner was off arranging his slave’s special birthday surprise for tomorrow - Saturday – Mulder’s birthday. Mulder still didn’t know what his surprise was going to be. Skinner had teased him with little hints several times over the past couple of weeks, and his slave’s curiosity was now well and truly piqued.

 “It’s my best birthday ever and it doesn’t even begin until tomorrow,” Mulder commented. “Why did you choose to take me out tonight instead of tomorrow night, Master?”

Skinner gave a small grin, and tugged on his slave’s hair just enough to hurt. Mulder gave a yelp. “Because I have other plans for tomorrow, as you well know, boy, so stop fishing for details.”

“Master, this is me, your slave, Fox,” Mulder replied with a grin. “Fishing for details is what I do.”

“I know – but it won’t be a surprise if you know in advance, will it?”

“It’s almost my birthday.” Mulder glanced at the clock. It was ten past ten. “Why not just tell me an hour and fifty minutes early?”

“Because you’re not going to find out anything until we wake up tomorrow.” Skinner grinned.

“Master is a sadist,” Mulder pouted amiably.

“Master sure as hell is!” Skinner replied with a guffaw. “Now, boy, as we’re going to be busy tomorrow, I think you should open your birthday presents now.”

“Open my…” Mulder sat up in surprise. “I thought you just said I wouldn’t be getting my present until we woke up tomorrow?”

“There are different kinds of presents, boy,” Skinner said with a solemn wink. “Tomorrow’s gift will be something you only get to play with for one day, and one day only, so I’m sure you’ll want to make the most of it and not be distracted by anything else.”

He gave a seraphic smile and Mulder couldn’t help laughing out loud. He watched as Skinner retrieved the key to his den which he’d kept locked for the past couple of weeks, presumably to protect its contents from the eyes of his prying slave, and then his Master disappeared out into the hallway. Mulder leaned back and put his hands behind his head. He still couldn’t believe his life was this good. His last birthday meal had consisted of pizza and beer – eaten alone his apartment. He never would have guessed then, in a million years, that he’d be spending his next birthday as the property of his boss, with the two of them engaged in an alternative lifestyle that suited them both, and which had given Mulder the kind of happiness, stability and love that he had secretly craved all his life.  

Skinner returned a few seconds later, his arms filled with parcels. Mulder stood up, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Are all these for me?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course. If a Master can’t spoil his slave, then what can he do?” Skinner grinned, spilling the parcels onto the coffee table - all except for one, which he put to one side, next to the couch, out of reach of his slave.

“Which one first, Master?” Mulder knelt beside the table, and gazed at the many parcels. He had never much cared about birthday presents one way or the other before – he had other things to think about in life – but somehow the fact that these presents were from his Master made them very special. He no longer had the right, under the terms of his contract, to own anything. He didn’t even have his own bank account, so the fact that Skinner was buying gifts for him that were his to keep truly meant something. He gazed up at his Master expectantly, and Skinner shook his head, wryly, and massaged his slave’s neck gently.

“Whichever you like, boy,” he said softly. “It’s your birthday.”

Mulder laughed and reached out to pick up the nearest gift – only to find his hand stopped by his Master. “I think you’re forgetting something, boy,” Skinner said, gazing pointedly at Mulder’s body.

Mulder glanced down, confused, and then realisation sank in; he still hadn’t removed his clothing after returning from their evening out together, and he was under standing instructions to be naked in his Master’s presence when they were alone in the apartment.

“Sorry, Master. I guess I was distracted.” He got up, and removed his clothing, placed it in a neat pile on the armchair, and then knelt, naked, in front of the coffee table again. He looked at Skinner, and his Master nodded that he should proceed, so he picked up a small box. He held it against his ear, and shook it, but was none the wiser. He returned it to the table, his eyes having been drawn to the strangest parcel in the collection – it was long and thin, and, as he discovered when he picked it up, very heavy.

“Master?” He raised an eyebrow at Skinner and his Master’s mouth quirked at the corner.

“I’m not even going to give you a clue,” Skinner told him. “Open it and find out.”
Mulder surveyed his other gifts but this was the most intriguing. He had no idea what it could be. He tore his finger under the wrapping paper and something clanged out onto the coffee table. He grabbed it, staring at it with eyes wide with shock; it was a long metal stick, and at one end there was a large, carved, metal ‘S’.

“Master?” he croaked, his throat going suddenly dry.

Skinner got up, and came to kneel behind his slave. He put his arms around Mulder, and kissed the back of his neck.

“It’s a branding iron, slave,” he murmured in a deep, low, throaty drawl. Mulder’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s the iron I’m going to use to mark you.” Mulder felt his cock start to harden. He was scared out of his wits by the idea of being branded, and yet he wanted it desperately too. “The ‘S’ is for ‘slave’,” Skinner told him. “It’s also for ‘Skinner’. It signifies that you’re my slave, my property, and that’s the mark I’m going to sear into your skin. I’m giving the iron to you now because I want you to have plenty of time to prepare – mentally and physically – for your branding. It won’t take place yet. It won’t be for a little while – but I’m not going to tell you when. I just want you to get used to it. Up until now it’s just been an abstract idea, but it’s going to become reality fairly soon. I’m going to heat this iron until it’s white hot, and then press it deep into your skin. You’ll scream,” Skinner warned, his arms warm and comforting around his slave’s naked body, caressing him, and holding him close, gently soothing the body of his slave - a body he owned and would soon mark with his brand. “You’ll scream for a long time while the iron claims you, but afterwards you’ll carry the mark I put on your flesh. A mark of love, and of ownership.” Skinner kissed the back of Mulder’s neck again, and his slave trembled slightly. He was both unbearably turned on, and scared shitless at one and the same time. “Soon you’ll bear both my initials on your skin. This ‘W’,” Skinner fingered the thin scar low on Mulder’s abdomen, “and now an ‘S’ to complete it. Back and front.” Skinner’s fingers cupped Mulder’s left buttock and fingered it gently.

“Will you mark me there, Master?” Mulder asked in a choked voice.

“Yes. Low on the buttock leaving plenty of room for the marks of the cane above, for when I choose to mark you that way,” Skinner growled into his ear.

“I’m scared, Master.” Mulder didn’t mind admitting that – he was scared of the branding and he wished he wasn’t. His Master might have caused him pain in the past, but the erotic pay-off had always made it completely worthwhile. His own fear had almost overwhelmed him before he had been fisted and had his nipples pierced, but he counted both of those occasions as among his most treasured memories now. He was sure that, in time, he would feel the same way about the branding – but right now, holding this iron and understanding that his branding would soon be a tangible reality, he was just plain freaked out.

“I know…but I’ll prepare you, boy. You’ll submit to the iron because it’s my wish that you do so – I’m not actually giving you a choice in the matter, sweetheart.” Skinner’s words took away Mulder’s doubts. He wanted to be branded as much as he knew Skinner wanted to brand him. His Master had always enjoyed marking his slave’s skin, and Mulder loved walking around with bites and welts on his flesh reminding him constantly of his Master’s affection. He knew he would be filled with pride at having a permanent mark on his body…if only he could get over his fear. However, knowing that it was going to happen anyway, and he had no say in the matter, relieved him of some of his worry.

“How will you prepare me, Master?” Mulder asked.

“For a start, you’ll kiss the iron every day – in my presence. I want you to become accustomed to it, and to think about how it will feel to have that mark on your body – I also want you to tell me any thoughts you have on that subject.”

“I want to bear your mark, Master,” Mulder said firmly. He had no doubts at all about that. “It’s the pain I’m afraid of. I don’t think there’s any way you can prepare me for it.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Skinner growled. Mulder’s cock lurched at his Master’s gruff, sexy tones, and he leaned back against his Master’s broad chest, his body afire with arousal. Skinner gave a knowing chuckle, and tapped Mulder’s hard cock. “I think you’re in the right frame of mind to enjoy opening the rest of your presents now,” he commented with a laugh.

Skinner got up, and resumed his seat on the couch, while Mulder surveyed his other gifts in some trepidation. He picked up the small box again, and tore off the wrapping paper to find a leather jewelry case underneath. He opened it carefully, to find two gold cufflinks nestled inside. Closer examination revealed that each of the smooth gold ovals was also engraved with a perfect, tiny ‘S’.

“When you look at these cufflinks you’ll be reminded of your status.” Skinner gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll expect you to wear them every day at work – I don’t want you to save them just for formal occasions. I want you to see that ‘S’ when you’re working, and to remember what you are, and who you belong to.”

Mulder’s cock gave a little spasm of delight at his Master’s words. He ignored it – he hadn’t been given permission to touch it. His cock, like the rest of his body, belonged to his Master and wasn’t his to touch unless it pleased Skinner for him to do so. Mulder reached out, found another small box, and unwrapped it. This time he discovered two gold charms, each in the shape of a fox. He looked at his Master wordlessly, his eyes shining.

“Decoration,” Skinner said, taking one of the tiny foxes and fixing it to Mulder’s left nipple ring. He completed the task with the right ring, his fingers rubbing Mulder’s nipples into hard little points. Mulder moaned, and arched his back. Skinner grinned, and leaned forward to nip his slave’s neck with his teeth. “I like my slave to be adorned. I like the idea of dressing you up, and decorating you. My fox. My slave.” Skinner took one of the charms in his mouth and pulled on it gently. Mulder’s breathing quickened, but Skinner withdrew once more, nodding at Mulder to continue opening his packages. With a dreamy, aroused smile, Mulder did just that.  

The next item to fall out from its silver and blue striped packaging was what looked like a wheel on a handle – and all around the circumference of the wheel were dozens of sharp, pointed steel nails. Mulder’s held it up, wordlessly, with a raised eyebrow. Skinner gave a grin of pure, feral evil. He took the implement, held Mulder’s arm out, and then gently pressed the moving wheel against his slave’s flesh. Each tiny nail dug into Mulder’s skin, creating a sensation of dozens of tiny pinpricks. “Imagine how this might feel when applied to a particularly sensitive area – and with more force,” Skinner growled into his slave’s ear. Mulder closed his eyes, his whole body shivering in anticipatory delight. Skinner wheeled the evil little implement up and down his arm, and then replaced it on the coffee table. Mulder opened his eyes with a sigh, and gazed at his Master accusingly.

“I never knew opening presents could be such an erotic torment,” he muttered.

His Master laughed. “If you’re a good boy, then maybe we’ll end the evening by relieving some of that torment,” Skinner commented, gazing pointedly at his slave’s cock. “Or maybe not. It isn’t your birthday until tomorrow, after all.”

Mulder sighed and rolled his eyes. His Master enjoyed playing these little games with him. He opened four more of his parcels, finding an exquisite blue cotton shirt in one, a pair of steel gray chinos in another, a matching jacket in the third, and a tastefully patterned tie in the last package – an entire, color co-ordinated outfit. He went and stood in front of the mirror, holding the suit against his body.

“Looks good,” Skinner observed, watching. “I thought the colors would suit you. Elliott brought me several bales of cloth to choose from – it took me a long time to decide. I wanted something that would be just right.”

“It’s perfect,” Mulder breathed, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Two more packages revealed a new pair of Italian shoes, in soft, charcoal black leather, a pair of silk boxer shorts, and the softest pair of socks he had ever owned.

“I wanted to buy you a complete outfit,” Skinner murmured.

“It’s just right. Thank you,” Mulder said softly.

“There’s more.” Skinner reached into his pocket, and pulled out a tiny, odd-looking gift, awkwardly wrapped because of its size and shape. Mulder opened it and held up a key in surprise.

“It opens the door to this apartment,” Skinner told him, reaching out a hand to gently massage his slave’s neck. “I thought that as you were now sharing my bedroom, it might be appropriate for you to have a key to the front door instead of having to go all the way up to the 18^th floor apartment and use the stairs and interconnecting door to get into this one.”
Mulder swallowed down the lump in the back of his throat as he fingered the key thoughtfully. This present meant more to him than all the rest because it symbolized something about their relationship - something very important.

“Thank you, Walter,” he whispered.

Skinner smiled, and claimed a kiss from his slave’s willing lips. “You’re welcome, Fox,” he replied. “Now, I have one more parcel for you. This one is special and you won’t fully understand its significance until tomorrow.”

“Oookay.” Mulder grinned. He had never been particularly interested in surprises before but Skinner’s usual Masterly planning had turned his birthday into the most delicious, anticipatory game. Skinner handed his slave the parcel that he had kept beside the couch, and Mulder examined it, with a smile, completely unable to guess its contents. “You’re good at this surprise thing, Master. I haven’t a clue what you have planned for me tomorrow. Will I be any the wiser after opening this?”

“Probably not,” Skinner chuckled.

Mulder tore through more of the striped blue and silver paper, and a plain silver collar with a padded lining slid out onto his lap, closely followed by two plain silver cuffs, also with padded linings.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmured, fingering the collar. “But I already have a collar, Master.”

“I know.” Skinner smiled softly. Mulder went to put the collar around his neck, but Skinner stopped him. “No. These have a different purpose. Wait until tomorrow, and then you’ll find out what the collar and cuffs are for,” he said, a strange twinkle in his eyes. Mulder gazed at him, speculatively, but his Master wouldn’t be drawn any more.

Skinner got to his feet, and looked down on his slave. “All right, boy, it might be late but I have plans for the rest of the evening.”

“I was kind of hoping you would.” Mulder grinned. His cock was still semi-erect, and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off his sexy Master all evening. All this birthday anticipation was getting to him.

“First – you have a birthday spanking due.” Skinner slid his hand into Mulder’s hair, and then slowly bunched it into a fist, and pulled his slave’s head back. “Don’t you, slave?” He hissed.

“Well, technically speaking, not until tomorrow, Master,” Mulder said cheekily. Skinner tightened his hand and pulled Mulder’s head back even further. Mulder swallowed hard, fighting down a fit of nervous anxiety. He loved it when his Master did this, but all the same, it scared the hell out of him.

“I can spank you any time I like, boy. Don’t forget that,” Skinner said in a warning tone.

“Never, Master,” Mulder gulped.

“And, for reasons which will become clear tomorrow, I want to administer your birthday spanking tonight. Any objections, boy?” It was said in a deceptively mild tone but Mulder knew better than to argue.

“No, Master,” he replied promptly.

“Good. I also want to use you – hard.” Skinner grinned a feral grin that went straight to Mulder’s cock, reviving it to full erection once more. “I want you to be fully aware who is Master and who is slave around here, boy.”

“I don’t think either of us is in any doubt about that, Master,” Mulder managed to croak, staying quite still within his Master’s grasp. There was no doubt that Skinner could be exceedingly scary when he was in this kind of mood, and Mulder wouldn’t have dared cross him.

“I hope not, but just to be sure I’m going to spank that sweet white ass of yours to a nice shade of blushing birthday red. After that, I’m going to tie you up and christen your new birthday present.” Skinner picked up the small wheel with nails embedded in the surface, and Mulder swallowed hard, his gaze transfixed by the sight of that little implement of torture. “What’s the matter, boy? Are you scared?” Skinner demanded, tugging Mulder’s head back again.

Mulder nodded convulsively.  “Yes, Master,” he said honestly.

“Good.” Skinner purred, stroking his slave’s neck thoughtfully. Mulder held quite still, like a mouse caught by a cat. “Very good.” Skinner let go, and pulled his slave roughly to his feet. “Go to the bedroom now – you’ll find I’ve prepared it. Wait for me there, in the submissive position, until such time as I deign to come and take you, boy.”

“Yes, Master!” Mulder was on his feet and running towards the stairs the moment Skinner finished the sentence, every nerve ending in his body tingling in anticipation.

“Fox!” His Master called him back. “Take this birthday present with you.” Skinner handed him the little wheel. “Put it on the floor in front of you, just touching your knees. I don’t want you to take your eyes off it.”

 Mulder nodded, then turned and ran up the stairs two at a time, clutching his present to his chest. He sped into the bedroom…and then paused, his stomach somersaulting as he took in the sight that greeted him there. All four corners of the bed had chains attached to them. His nightstand had been cleared, and instead of its usual clock and selection of books, it now boasted an array of various implements of discipline; his Master clearly had a full bondage session planned. It was unusual for Skinner to indulge in such sessions outside the Playroom, but Mulder had long since learned not to ask questions. Skinner demanded nothing less than his total obedience and if his Master wanted to bend his slave over the toilet basin and screw him senseless then that was fine by Mulder. It wasn’t his choice – he had relinquished that control to his Master and he loved being a sexual plaything, surrendering himself to Skinner’s every whim. It turned him on. The room was lit by the dim glow of two lamps, changing it from its usual everyday familiarity into a place of erotic mystery.

Mulder knelt beside the bed, head down, knees wide open, shoulders back, displaying the front of his body for his Master to enjoy, eyes demurely fixed on the floor in front of him where he had placed the small, nail-covered wheel. With his eyes focused on that, he quickly entered the serenity of subspace, and wasn’t even aware of the time passing. He was both terrified and fascinated by the wheel. It was fixed on a short handle, and would have resembled a pastry cutter were it not for the shiny, tiny steel nails sticking out of it. He had no idea what they would feel like pressed deeply into the sensitive skin around his nipples, or over his cock, but he was sure he was soon going to find out. He was on a precipice of need, his cock straining within its golden ring, and, not for the first time, he was grateful that he had no choice. If he had a choice, he might be too scared to go through with the very things he wanted most in the world. As it was, he could do nothing but endure whatever his Master wanted to do to him.

After what could have been an hour, or just a few minutes, Mulder zoned into the fact that a pair of shoes were standing in front of him. He hadn’t even heard his Master’s footstep on the stairs.

“All right, boy. Between my knees and unzip me. No hands,” Skinner warned, as Mulder reached forward eagerly. “I want you to suck me – but don’t bring me to climax. I’m coming inside you tonight,” Skinner told him in those rough, masterful tones that Mulder enjoyed so much. He sped quickly into position, and bent to open his Master’s fly with his mouth. This wasn’t easy, but, like the good slave he had become, it was a skill he had mastered to Skinner’s satisfaction. It had taken several months but he was now able to undo every single item of his Master’s clothing using only his mouth. With his hands behind his back as he had been taught, Mulder released his Master’s large, swelling cock from its confines, and captured it in his mouth. Skinner’s cock was always responsive to his slave’s ministrations and Mulder loved the warm, hard feel of it beneath his tongue, and pressing against the back of his throat. He sucked for several minutes, until his Master pushed him away. “All right, boy. It’s time for your birthday spanking. How old will you be tomorrow?” Skinner’s eyes were dark, and for a moment Mulder was lost in them. A nudge from his Master’s shoe reminded him that he had been asked a question.

“39, Master,” he replied softly.

“Very well. Then you’ll receive 39 swats. I’m going to start with my hand, and then use each and every single one of those implements on your nightstand – and you, boy, are going to bring me each one in your mouth, drop it into my hand, and then beg me to use it on your ass. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.” Mulder gave a dreamy smile, lost in the joys of subspace. He liked it when Skinner added embellishments to a spanking – or demanded some action or response from him.

“Very well.” Skinner slowly folded his sleeves up to his elbows, and then gestured to his knee. “No pillow – we’ll do this the old fashioned way, slave,” Skinner growled.

Mulder’s heart thudded at those words as he got into position. Skinner’s thighs were hard but they were also wide, and provided ample resting place for Mulder’s long frame. His Master opened his legs and trapped Mulder’s cock and balls between his knees, and then he began playing with his slave’s ass. Skinner rarely spanked him in this position – usually his Master sat with his back to the headboard, and his slave supported on the bed, and Mulder felt curiously vulnerable with his nose pressed so close to the carpet, and his cock imprisoned. Skinner’s hands were gentle on his backside and he fondled his slave’s bottom for several long minutes, before, without any warning at all, he slapped down a hard, hearty smack on Mulder’s waiting buttocks. Mulder gave a small, startled yelp, but Skinner soothed away any pain with some more gentle fondling. Mulder had just begun to relax when another hard smack made him yelp again. His Master was very good at lulling him into a false sense of security, and then rudely waking him from it. Mulder’s cock was certainly appreciative of the other man’s skill in delivering the perfect erotic spanking. More fondling, and then another smack – Skinner followed this pattern for ten swats, and then sat back. “Bring me the hairbrush, slave,” he ordered. Mulder slid off his Master’s lap, and retrieved the hairbrush from the nightstand with his mouth. He dropped it into Skinner’s outstretched hand and knelt beside his Master once more.

“Please, Master, spank me with the hairbrush,” he said in hazy tones. He felt lost, drowning in a sea of endorphins, but even so he was dimly aware of how far he’d come. There would have been a time, not so long ago either, when he would have been embarrassed to say those words, and would have felt the need to make some smart ass comment to deflect his own sense of humiliation, but now he had learned to accept not only his Master’s will, but also that his Master knew how to give him the most intense pleasure. It was a matter of trust – and Mulder trusted his Master implicitly. He bent over Skinner’s knee again, and soon the fondling continued – this time interrupted by ten sharp slaps from the hairbrush. Mulder began to squirm against his Master’s thighs as his buttocks started to heat up, sending waves of stimulation through every nerve ending in his body. He was almost startled when the spanking stopped and his Master deposited him on the floor once more.

“Bring me the belt, boy,” Skinner growled, and Mulder moved fast, picking up the belt in his mouth, and returning with it. He had learned never to mark the soft leather with his teeth – he would get extra if he did and, more worryingly, his Master would be displeased with him. Skinner took the belt from between his slave’s lips, and Mulder gazed at him dreamily. Skinner waited. Mulder gazed. Skinner cleared his throat.

“Oh…uh, please tan my ass with your belt, Master,” Mulder requested.

Skinner gave the slightest sigh, and beckoned Mulder back onto his lap. Ten more lovingly administered swats sent Mulder into the stratosphere. He really felt as if he was floating. This was one of the most intense erotic spankings that his Master had ever delivered, and it was beautiful. His ass was on fire, and he just wanted to swallow his Master’s cock deep within his body and lose himself in the big man’s embrace. The belt rose and fell slowly – punctuated by loving caresses, and then Mulder found himself on the floor once more.

“The paddle, boy,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder returned the belt to the nightstand and gingerly wrapped his mouth around the leather paddle, before returning to his Master’s side again.

“Please, Master, spank me with the paddle,” Mulder whispered. The lamp lit room seemed to be glowing an even more intense orangey-red as Mulder re-arranged himself over his Master’s knee. The first blow from the paddle stung on Mulder’s already sensitized butt, and he squirmed, and yelled in earnest. Skinner placed a hand on the small of his back, keeping him in position, and then proceeded to blister his slave’s ass faster and harder than he had hitherto done. Mulder kept mental count of the swats and on the 9^th he tried to rise – only to find himself still pinned.

“You’re forgetting the one for luck,” Skinner told him, before administering one last mighty swat from the paddle. It cracked against his slave’s bottom and Mulder howled on impact - and then the spanking was over. Mulder lay over his Master’s knee, panting, and Skinner grabbed his slave’s wrists and held them behind his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked in a fierce growl.

“You, Master.”

Mulder didn’t struggle as Skinner held his wrists in place, leaving him without any way of balancing himself. He trusted that his Master would hold him up, and as always, his trust wasn’t misplaced. Skinner opened his legs to keep Mulder safely over his knees, and then, holding Mulder’s wrists in one hand, began to squeeze his slave’s newly punished buttocks with the other. He cruelly pinched the reddened flesh between thumb and forefinger, pressing hard until Mulder cried out, and then moved on to another piece of hapless flesh. Mulder started to move rhythmically, his cock aching with need.

“If you come before I tell you, then I’ll use my cane on your ass,” Skinner hissed. Mulder stopped rocking back and forth, and buried his face in the sheets with a moan. He dreaded his Master’s cane above any other implement – it usually delivered a pain far too severe to bring him any pleasure. Besides, Mulder knew that his Master would let him come tonight, but he wasn’t sure he could be patient. Finally Skinner released him, but only in order to tip him onto the bed, before leaping on him with a predatory growl. He sat astride his naked boy, pinning him down, and held Mulder’s arms above his head. Mulder went quite still, as he always did when his Master was in this particularly dominant mood. Skinner’s face was just inches away from his own, his eyes dark, and fiery with arousal. Skinner fastened each of Mulder’s wrists to the cuffs on the headboard, before removing Mulder’s nipple rings and the charms attached to them, and placing them on the side, leaving Mulder feeling curiously naked without them.

“Now I’m going to use your new birthday present on you, boy,” Skinner whispered. He reached down and grabbed the little wheel from the floor, and Mulder moaned, tugging pointlessly on his cuffs.

“Oh god…oh shit,” he whispered. “Please, Master…please…”

“Afraid?” Skinner asked, his lips full, and sensual, twisting in pleasure at his slave’s reaction to the toy.

“Yes, Master.”

Mulder tensed as Skinner waved the wheel over his body, not touching his skin. He was tied too firmly to escape, and, in any case, he didn’t really want to escape. He was dying to feel that wheel on his skin almost as much as he was afraid of it. Skinner’s white teeth gleamed in the lamp lit room, and he dipped his head suddenly and claimed a deep, unexpected kiss from his slave. When he withdrew, Mulder arced his head up, wanting more, and Skinner laughed, a deep, masterful laugh, and ran the wheel over Mulder’s nose and eagerly parted lips, but so lightly that Mulder barely noticed the tiny pinpricks. Skinner moved down Mulder’s body, and sucked at one of his slave’s nipples until it hardened beneath his tongue.

“All the more to play with.” Skinner grinned approvingly, pinching the swollen mound of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Then he placed the wheel on Mulder’s breast and rolled it slowly towards the nipple. It didn’t hurt – but it was the most curious sensation. Mulder took a sharp intake of breath as Skinner’s hand pushed down harder on the wheel. Now he could feel those pinpricks in earnest, and his Master’s hand was going so slowly that Mulder was sure he could feel each and every little nail as it dug into his flesh. His Master’s hand slowed even more, at the same time as he increased the pressure, and then that tiny, tormenting wheel was traveling over Mulder’s swollen nipple, creating a sensation like a dozen pins pressing into his sensitive, aroused skin. He gasped and found himself staring into his Master’s laughing eyes.

“Was that good? Hmm?” Skinner demanded, soothing the abused nipple gently with his fingers.

“Oh god,” Mulder moaned.

“That was just the beginning.” Skinner reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a small bottle. Mulder gazed at it, hazily, trying to read the label on the side. Skinner swabbed some of the contents of the bottle onto a cotton ball and Mulder realized, in some dim recess of his aroused mind, that it was alcohol. “We just want to startle the skin a little, in preparation,” his Master crooned, jacking up the tension quite considerably, as if it wasn’t high enough already to Mulder’s mind. Skinner applied some alcohol to his slave’s other nipple, and Mulder arced up as the cool liquid anointed him. “Now feel this,” Skinner hissed, drawing the wheel swiftly over Mulder’s breast, pressing down hard. There was a sharp flash of the most intense sensation – not exactly pain, but something close to it, and then it was over, leaving Mulder’s entire body tingling, and his cock aching. Strangely, it hurt less when Skinner went fast than when he went slowly, but both sensations overloaded Mulder’s already stimulated nerve endings.

“Oh shit…oh shit…” Mulder writhed in his bonds, and Skinner gave another of those wicked, feral grins, and anointed Mulder’s stomach with the alcohol, and then swept the wheel over his slave once more, making Mulder twist in his bonds.

“If you don’t keep still I’ll tie your feet as well,” Skinner warned. Mulder moaned, looking down on his stomach, convinced that he was being cut to ribbons – only to see just the faintest pink mark, already fading. He suddenly became aware that Skinner was dabbing the alcohol on his cock and screamed even before the vicious little wheel was swiped over his tender flesh. He struggled pointlessly in his bonds, desperate to escape what he knew was coming.

“NO! Oh shit NO!” he yelled, loving and hating each second, wanting it to stop and never end at one and the same time. Skinner grinned demonically, and flashed the wheel fast along his slave’s cock. Mulder screamed again at the overload of sensation. It hurt…it hurt so much…and yet it felt so good. “No…oh god, NO!” He cried, thrashing around helplessly.

“What did you say, boy? Are you denying me?” Skinner leaned forward and kissed Mulder savagely, demanding entrance with his tongue. Mulder surrendered, ceasing his struggles, his entire body limp and exhausted. When he was done, Skinner drew back, and swabbed alcohol on his slave’s cock again. “I wasn’t going to do this twice, but as you’re resisting me…I think a second time is necessary. I’m going to go very slowly this time,” Skinner said, “As you’re defying me I’m going to make this count.”

Mulder trembled on the brink of ecstasy as his Master ran that sharp, vicious, completely wonderful implement over his cock again, very slowly as promised, pressing it deep into his slave’s hard length until Mulder was screaming incoherently. Skinner stopped the noise by the simple expedient of claiming another kiss from his slave’s open mouth. Mulder opened his lips hungrily, his entire body a mass of stimulation.

 Skinner soothed his slave for a few minutes, allowing him time to recover, then he undid Mulder’s chains and rolled him onto his front, before tying him again – and this time he tied Mulder’s ankles as well, securing him spread-eagled on the bed, his head angled to one side. Mulder wasn’t even sure that he was still breathing. He gave a startled shriek as the cool alcohol made contact with his hot buttocks, and then the evil, tormenting spokes of that wheel dug deep into his sore flesh, making every nerve ending in his body jangle and scream.

“Who are you?” Skinner demanded.

“Yours!” he croaked.

“What are you?” Skinner asked, swiping that vicious wheel into his slave’s flesh over and over again until Mulder didn’t think he could hold back his desire to come for another second.

“Your slave, Master. Your slave!” Mulder cried out.

“Good. Then prepare to receive me. But don’t come. I’m going to come inside you but you must wait for my order…I have something else planned for you, boy.”

Mulder felt his warm buttocks being parted, and he lifted his butt as far as he was able, desperately wanting to thrust back onto his Master’s hard cock, but being restricted by the chains. Skinner entered him smoothly, his hands rough and hard on Mulder’s sore buttocks. He slid back and forth inside his slave, using him as hard and fast as he had promised, pausing only to nip the back of his slave’s neck, or kiss his shoulders. Mulder couldn’t move his hands to caress his own cock, but he could slide it against the friction of the sheets, back and forth in time to his Master’s thrusts against his prostate, only supreme self-control and the knowledge that he had been ordered not to come keeping him from climaxing. He felt his Master convulse inside him, and sigh in pleasure, and then Skinner withdrew, leaving Mulder still on the brink.

“I want you to lie there, and think of the moment when I brand you,” Skinner said silkily, stroking Mulder’s hair with his hand, his voice low and seductive in Mulder’s ear. “I’m going to give you a taste of how it will feel, boy, so I want you to lie here and imagine the moment when I sink that iron into your flesh and mark you as mine - once and for all.”

Mulder shivered. He couldn’t hold on much longer…he couldn’t! He heard his Master leave the room, and gave a groan of total and utter frustration and despair. He briefly toyed with the notion of letting go and coming all over the sheets as he wanted to so badly, but he knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. His Master had ways and means of making his displeasure felt – and Mulder was too well acquainted with those ways and means to want to risk it. All he could think of was the mental image that Skinner had left him with. He could imagine that branding iron pressing deep into his skin, sizzling with heat, marking him with that ‘S’, branding him not only as a slave, but as Skinner’s slave - Skinner’s property, a belonging. He shivered. It was what he wanted more than anything in the world. He knew that being branded would finally wipe out, once and for all, what had happened in Seattle. His buttocks clenched involuntarily as he visualized that iron sinking into them, claiming him with its fiery kiss, and then he heard his Master, and, looking over his shoulder, saw that Skinner was holding the branding iron in his hand.

“Oh god no!” He cried. “Not now…not yet…” He was dimly aware that there was no sensation of heat coming from the iron, but his Master was moving closer and closer, and Mulder was so lost in his arousal and fear that he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Hold still, boy, and accept the iron into your flesh. You can come whenever you like. This is just a dry run for the real thing,” Skinner said in a firm tone, and with that, he pressed the iron onto Mulder’s right buttock and it hurt! It was freezing cold, and that made it burn as if it was white-hot. His Master held it, pressed deep into his slave’s flesh, branding him as his property, making his mark on his slave’s body, and Mulder knew that he was coming, explosively, all over the sheets with that branding iron buried cold and hard in his skin. 

It took some time for Mulder to come back to reality but when he did he found that he was no longer in bondage – in fact he was lying on his side wrapped up in his Master’s arms. The bed seemed to have been changed around him, all the implements had been tidied away…and Skinner was grinning down on him like a cat that had stolen the cream.

“Good, slave?” Skinner murmured, his lips touching Mulder’s forehead gently.

“No…fucking...fucking…evil,” Mulder spat, grinning inanely.

“Language,” Skinner corrected mildly with a swat to his slave’s backside.

“Where did you learn to be so…despicable?” Mulder shook his head.

“You like to be surprised – and I really enjoy surprising you.” Skinner kissed his slave again and Mulder snuggled closer. “It’s only now that I feel able to play with you more. I knew you’d respond but I needed to reach a level of real trust first. I think we’ve reached that level,” Skinner murmured.

“Does this mean you’re going to do stuff like that to me again?” Mulder asked suspiciously. “Playing tricks on me? Psyching me out?”

“Oh, I expect so. It did, after all, have the desired effect. I had to change the sheets as we’d both have slept on the wet patch after you came so hard.” Skinner grinned, and wrapped his big arms firmly around his slave. “You’re just lucky that I’m feeling so benevolent after that splendid meal that I didn’t get you to change them, slave, as I normally would.”

“That meal…” Mulder sighed, “all those presents, and now this fantastic sex…and you’re seriously telling me that my birthday hasn’t even begun yet?” Mulder glanced at the clock – it was ten minutes to midnight.

“Yes. Tomorrow will be a different ball game entirely.” Skinner grinned. “Now go to sleep.”

“I don’t think I could stay awake if you ordered me…oh, okay, maybe if you ordered me,” Mulder amended hastily as his Master frowned. He rested his head lazily on Skinner’s shoulder. “You put that branding iron in the freezer didn’t you?” He murmured accusingly, his eyes drooping.

“Yes, boy. I did. It felt as if it were burning but it didn’t leave a mark,” Skinner chuckled. “Well, just a faint one from the pressure and temperature,” he amended, fingering Mulder’s ass thoughtfully. “And besides, your hot butt needed to cool down.”

“Master is soooo funny.” Mulder made a face, but sleep was claiming him fast. He wondered, briefly, what the hell his birthday surprise could be after the evening he’d just had, before he was lost to the world. 

The first thing Mulder was aware of when he woke the next day was that there was something warm wrapped around his cock, sucking him hard. The next thing he was aware of was that his cock ring seemed to have been removed…He wasn’t aware of anything else for the next few minutes though, as that mouth around his cock brought him to climax with some slow, intense, and very experienced sucking. A few seconds later, his Master slid out of the bed, and knelt beside it, in the submissive position, knees apart, shoulders back, head down.

“Good morning, Master,” Skinner said softly. “Happy birthday.”

“Wha…?” Mulder blinked and sat up, trying to make sense of this. He felt as if he’d been transported to another universe, some kind of Star Trek alternate universe where everything was the opposite of the way it should be.

“If Master would like to collar his slave.” Skinner placed the silver collar and the two wrist cuffs he had given his slave the previous night onto the bed. Mulder stared at the collar, and then at his Master, and then back at the collar and cuffs.

“You’re not serious…” He opened his mouth several times in a passingly good imitation of a fish.

“Yes, Master. Today is your birthday, and this is your present. For today, and for today only,” Skinner stressed that word firmly, “I am the slave and you are the Master.”

Mulder sat there, gazing at his Master for several seconds, completely dumbfounded, and then a slow smile spread across his face.

“Oh shit. Oh my god. You mean it, don’t you? You’re serious about this.”

“Very serious, Master,” Skinner replied solemnly. “I’ve brought you coffee and your morning paper. I trust your wake-up call was to your satisfaction?”

“My wake up…? Oh god, yes. It was.” Mulder shook his head wonderingly. “I still can’t believe this. You…you’re my…” He pointed at Skinner, and then at himself. Skinner nodded. “All day?” Mulder raised an eyebrow. Skinner nodded again, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “I get to do whatever I like…?” Mulder asked, grinning inanely.

“Whatever you like,” Skinner said. “Well, within reason,” he amended hastily. “But I trust you, Master. I know you’ve learned a great deal from your own experiences as a slave, and I have every confidence that you will be a responsible, caring, and loving top.”

“So I can spank you?” Mulder was sure that he was going to laugh out loud with sheer glee. He felt almost light-headed.

“If it pleases you, Master. I’m your slave.” Skinner shrugged.

“Tie you up?”

“Yes, Master.”

“In the Playroom?” Mulder pressed.

“Of course. Here, Master.” Skinner leaned forward and hung a chain around Mulder’s neck. On the end of it there dangled a familiar bronze key. “The Playroom is yours for the day,” he said softly.

“I can sit on the throne?” Mulder asked. “And look in all the cupboards…and…use all the toys on you?” Mulder felt a wave of excitement course through his body.

“Of course, Master.” Skinner bowed his head.

Mulder frowned suspiciously.

“Wait…there’s got to be a catch,” he mused. “I mean, what happens tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I’ll be Master again,” Skinner told him in a more purposeful tone than he had hitherto been using.

“And payback’s a bitch.” Mulder made a face.

“There won’t be any payback.” Skinner promised.

“You promise?” Mulder said cautiously.

“Of course. Today is your birthday, and for one day only you get to see what it’s like to be the Master. You can experience all the joys, all the power – and all the responsibility as well. I’m in your hands, Master.”

And so saying, Skinner knelt back on his haunches, smiled a serene smile, and waited expectantly for his first order.

Mulder lay in the bed, still dumbfounded. He had never expected this. Skinner was kneeling as if he had been born to inhabit the submissive position, eyes down, waiting so patiently…Mulder was suddenly aware that Andrew had trained a very obedient sub and Skinner did have considerable experience in this role, but even so…to give himself to Mulder so completely, and honestly… Mulder had never been in this position before, and he was surprised by how touching he found the sight of his waiting sub. Did Skinner feel that way about him, he wondered? Did his Master appreciate the gift of his slave’s submission – did it affect him the way it was affecting Mulder? He knew immediately that the answer was ‘yes’.

Mulder felt excited, elated, and proud – but he was also nervous, surprised, and unsure where to begin. He was like a kid being let loose in a candy shop. He didn’t know whether he wanted to spank his new slave, play with his slave’s magnificent body, order his slave to massage him…or any one of a dozen other courses of action open to a Master…

“You know, this reminds me of the ancient festival of Saturnalia,” he gabbled, his overactive mind kicking into gear as it always did in moments of emotional overload. “Of course that was a Christmas festival, and not related to birthdays, and the term ‘Christmas’ is misleading because it pre-dated that festival and referred to the big mid-winter festival that is common in most cultures…but anyway there were various traditions whereby the natural order of the world was inverted – sometimes there would be a big feast in which the slaves were served by the master of the house, or even freed for the day, and at other times they appointed a lowly member of the household, usually a fool or jester, to be in charge of the revels and he was given the title Lord of Misrule, and…” Mulder trailed off as he became aware of the incredulous expression on his slave’s face. He had the distinct impression that the other man was longing to growl at him to shut up – or else to quiet him more directly by means of a firm kiss. Both courses of actions were currently denied to him of course, but the expression on Skinner’s face told its own story.

“Problem, slave?” Mulder asked innocently.

“No. That’s all very…fascinating, Master,” Skinner said faintly.

Mulder grinned. “You know, slave,” he murmured, “I think I’m going to enjoy this!”

Skinner raised an eyebrow. He was clearly fighting back a flippant comment but controlled himself and instead replied, in demure, subservient tones: “Yes, Master.”

Mulder gave a chortle of sheer glee, and leaned back, placing his hands insouciantly behind his head. “Oh yes…I’m really going to enjoy this!”

Mulder sat and gazed at his Master…no, slave, hundreds of ideas buzzing through his mind. Master. He was a Master…even if it was for only one day. Master. He ran the word around in his mind trying to make sense of it as applied to himself. He had always known that his fantasies were of the submissive variety, from when he first started having them as a kid, but since becoming Skinner’s slave he had begun to wonder what it would be like to top. He was aware that before Skinner had contracted him into his service he’d been guilty of topping from the bottom, going to any lengths to experience the kinds of sensations that he wanted. He remembered, with a flush of embarrassment, how when he’d first met Elaine he’d told her precisely how he wanted to be spanked, for how long, and with which implement. He was a strong-willed personality, and the notion of truly giving up his power and control to someone else, however much he wanted to do so, had been impossible for him. And none of the tops he had met had been strong enough to make him, and take him to the true serenity of subspace the way Skinner had, and the way he had secretly craved. Some of them had tried to strong-arm him into it, using physical threats, but he had been contemptuous of their lack of real authority – the kind that came from within, from the soul. Skinner was the only person he had ever met who had that in sufficient abundance to truly claim mastery over him, and now the other man was showing that he was so secure in his own status as Master that he was prepared to give his slave a chance to experience what it was like, even if only for a day.  

Mulder suddenly wasn’t sure where to start. Being a slave had its own set of rules. It had by no means been the passive role that he had expected, as Skinner required his slave to fully participate in his own slavery, to show initiative in taking care of his Master, and see to the smooth and efficient running of the household, and his own personal grooming, as well as holding down his stressful job, and providing conversation and activities to keep his Master entertained. However, as far as sexual situations went, Skinner was in charge. He thought up the multitude of diabolical ways in which to torment his slave, and all Mulder had to do was accept – and give himself up wholeheartedly to his Master’s will and all the many rewards that brought with it.  

Faced with being the one who devised the sex games, Mulder felt like someone thrust on stage without having learned his lines. His slave was kneeling, expectantly, and he didn’t know what to do. Was this how Skinner felt he wondered, suddenly realizing that his Master had this responsibility twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. How often had Skinner said those words to him? 24/7 - only he had meant it as a reminder to his slave of his status – Mulder was suddenly aware that the 24/7 arrangement was also true for Skinner. He, also, had no escape from his role as Master, just as his slave had no escape. Sometimes being a slave had been hard for Mulder - now he was dimly aware that there might have been occasions when it had also been hard for his Master.

“Master?” Skinner seemed to be reading the thoughts as they raced through Mulder’s complex mind, but then Mulder knew he had always been an open book as far as Skinner was concerned.

“Slave. I think…that some rules are required,” he said, wondering frantically, even as he spoke the words, what the hell those rules would be. “First – you don’t speak without permission.”
Skinner nodded, and bowed his head obediently. Mulder chewed on his lip. Damn stupid choice of rule, he berated himself. Skinner had clearly been offering his help and he’d more or less told him to shut up. Shit! Now he was well and truly on his own. “Okay…second rule – no clothes. I want you naked all day.”

Skinner nodded again, and stretched said naked body slightly. Mulder gazed at the sight of his nude slave hungrily. There were so many things he wanted to do that he wasn’t sure which to begin with. Spanking was fairly high on his list. Just the thought of running his hands over those beautiful globes of taut butt flesh made his cock twitch – to say nothing of the utter glee of finally being able to give back what he’d been receiving. But…morning discipline was Skinner’s style, and Mulder didn’t just want to copy everything his Master did – he wanted to think up his own activities, and imprint his own personality on the role.

“Okay, good. The third rule is…” Mulder grinned an evil grin – he was going to enjoy this one – “you are not, under any circumstances, to come without my express permission. Understood?”

Skinner glanced up, his dark eyes unfathomable, which made Mulder feel more uncomfortable than he felt should be the case in the circumstances.

“Yes, Master,” Skinner said softly. “Master – permission to ask a question?”

“Go ahead.” Mulder waved his hand airily, almost dislodging his coffee cup. He grabbed the cup quickly, minimizing the spillage, and raised it to his lips as if the whole clumsy maneuver had been entirely intentional.

“Am I allowed to touch myself, Master, or must I ask your permission?”

“Definitely not. No touching,” Mulder said sternly.

Skinner nodded serenely. Mulder nodded, pleased with his rules thus far, and trying to think up some more. Skinner cleared his throat. “Permission to ask another question, Master,” he requested politely. Mulder thought about denying permission but it seemed a little churlish in the circumstances so finally he gestured impatiently with his head that Skinner should proceed.

“What about in the bathroom, Master? Or should I call you for assistance if I’m not to touch myself?”

Mulder frowned. “No, you can touch yourself in the bathroom,” he said, casting a suspicious look at his slave. All this attention to detail was a little irksome. He wasn’t very interested in details himself – he had always been better at looking at the broad picture and details bored him. His quick brain could see them, and store them, and then move on to making them fit the whole jigsaw, while other people were still laboriously figuring out the first one. “Any other questions?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“No, Master.” Skinner smiled, his eyes utterly bereft of challenge.

“Okay, the fourth rule is that I want you to obey my orders quickly, without question. I’m going to keep a tally. Any infringements of these rules, or slowness in following my orders, or smart-ass comments, or lack of respect, and you’ll earn yourself a stroke from an implement of my choice. Understood?”

“Perfectly, Master.” Skinner nodded.

At that moment Wanda nudged the bedroom door open and stalked into the room. She glanced at the kneeling, naked Skinner for a moment, clearly puzzled by this new world order, and then glanced at Mulder, lying in comfort in the bed. She weighed it up for a moment, and then made a beeline for Skinner, and rubbed her chin on his knees.

“Permission to pet Wanda, Master?” Skinner requested. Mulder glared at her. Didn’t she realize that he was in charge now? It was very frustrating.

“Permission refused,” he said, with a smug smile. Skinner nodded, put his head down, pulled his shoulders back…and waited.

Just like that? Mulder thought to himself. No questions? No resentment? Skinner was crazy about the little cat, so he would have expected that his new slave might try to sneak in a little stroke of the furry underside of her chin at the very least. In fact, he was kind of hoping that the other man would because then he would have excuse to spank him. But no. Nothing. Mulder sighed. Skinner’s head snapped up at the sound.

“Permission to speak, Master.”

“Proceed – and, uh, let’s forget the permission to speak thing. You have my permission to speak until I say you don’t. Okay?” It was grating on his nerves.

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. You seem out of sorts, Master. Could I help? Maybe I could draw you a bath, shave you, and, if Master would give me permission, I would love to have the honor of massaging Master. After I dress you, Master, I could cook your breakfast. I have a special birthday meal planned for you, Master.”

Mulder wondered just how many times Skinner had managed to work the word ‘Master’ into that speech. Not that it mattered – somehow he had the feeling that no matter how many times he was addressed in that way, he’d never actually feel that he was anybody’s Master. It was a state of mind, and he wasn’t sure that it was one he could ever acquire. Skinner was looking at him with the earnest expression of the perfect little slave. Mulder decided that he really needed to take charge.

“Very well, slave. That sounds…good.”

Actually, it sounded more than good, Mulder thought. An entire day of pampering, with this gorgeous naked slave waiting on him hand and foot – and he had never received a full body massage from his Master, although Skinner had been kind enough to occasionally give his slave a back rub when he thought he needed it. Usually though, the massages that Mulder was on the receiving end of entailed him being manacled down to a table and enduring all kinds of painfully erotic surprises along the way. Not that he was complaining – those massages were among some of his most cherished memories, but he liked the idea of just having a simple, relaxing massage delivered by an adoring slave.

“First though – we have to take care of your collaring.”

Mulder swung his legs out of the bed, and looked down on his naked, kneeling slave. Skinner looked up, his eyes alight with what seemed an almost innocent glow of submission. Mulder wasn’t sure whether his slave was feigning that or not, but there was something utterly wonderful about being on the receiving end of such a look. It made him feel a hundred feet tall, and as if he could jump over skyscrapers and fly through the air. His slave’s total and utter confidence and trust in him made his own self-esteem shoot through the roof – but with it came a nagging worry that he might not be worthy of all this devotion, and a sense of huge responsibility settled on his shoulders.

“Come here, swe…” Mulder caught himself in time before he addressed Skinner as ‘sweetheart’. It had almost been instinctive. There was something about having a slave that made you want to give them a pet name. He had never minded Skinner’s pet names for him, which were usually either ‘sweetheart’ or ‘little one’. In fact, he’d always found them rather endearing. His name had always been too short to be further shortened, and the only other name he’d been known by was the hated ‘spooky’. He had never been given such affectionate terms of address before he became Skinner’s slave. ‘Little one’ had always made him laugh because he was far from being little and was only an inch or so shorter than his Master, although admittedly much slighter in build. Now he decided to give Skinner an endearment of his own. “Come here, pet,” he crooned. Skinner raised just the tiniest hint of eyebrow at Mulder’s choice of address. “Well, what would you prefer?” Mulder grinned, opening his legs, and allowing Skinner to settle between his knees. “Honey? Love? Sweet cheeks?” Skinner looked faintly appalled at the very idea of that last nickname. Mulder grinned, and placed both his hands on Skinner’s cheeks. “Well, they are sweet – although not as cute as your butt cheeks!” He laughed, reaching down to pinch said cheeks affectionately. Skinner allowed this indignity without protest, although Mulder had the distinct impression that the big man was desperately holding back a desire to swat his ‘Master’ with one of his big paws, and growl at him, rather like Wanda when he tweaked her tail. “And it occurs to me that you should have a slave name,” Mulder continued. “Walter is just a bit too dignified isn’t it? What should your slave name be? How about…Maximus?” he exclaimed. “After Russell Crowe’s character in Gladiator. He was a big tough guy who became a slave after all.” He grinned, and pinched Skinner’s buttock again just because he could. He felt like a kid not only in a candy store but also behind the counter, in charge of all the candy, and it was intoxicating. “I could call you Max for short.”

“If it pleases you, Master,” Skinner said evenly.

Mulder looked down on his slave thoughtfully for a moment. He wasn’t sure that it did please him. It was cute, but it wasn’t quite right. He wanted his slave’s name to somehow sum up the essence of the man, as well as being a term of endearment. There had been times when his Master addressed him as ‘Fox’, in a certain tone of voice, that he had shivered all over and felt as if he could have come at the sound of his Master’s tone of voice alone – and the way it imbued his name with the essence of his slavery. He had never been more the slave, or Skinner more the Master, when the big man spoke his name in that way. He could have said that name in the office, in front of a crowd of people, and Mulder would have known that his Master wasn’t simply using his given name – Fox - he was speaking to his slave, and there was a significant difference.

“You know…you’ve often told me that I suit the, uh, more vulpine characteristics of my animal name,” Mulder mused thoughtfully. “What is it you say? Long snout,” he tapped his nose, “bushy tail…” he glanced down at his eager cock with a grin, “an insatiable curiosity and tendency to wildness.” He looked at his slave who smiled, and shrugged.

“It does seem that your slave name is particularly apt, Master,” Skinner commented carefully.

“Well, maybe you’re right…which is why I think you should have an animal as your slave name as well. Wolf is nice…but not really you.” Mulder shook his head. “I like Horse…you’ve got a nice broad back, and you’re sure as hell hung like a stallion, but you’re somewhat lacking in the mane department,” he grinned. “No, wait…I’ve got it!” He exclaimed triumphantly. “Sometimes, when it’s been cold and I’ve been wrapped up against that furry chest of yours, I’ve thought you bore more than a passing resemblance to a bear. Resourceful, something of a loner, dangerous but cuddly, big, and definitely furry…Bear. I like it – and of course it has the advantage of me being able to change it to ‘Teddy’ occasionally – when you’re being particularly cute.” He grinned exuberantly. Skinner’s face was a picture of studied calm but his eyes were flashing a little dangerously. “Or there’s always Grizzly for when I make you growl,” Mulder commented, glancing at his slave’s big paws. “So, Ted…it’s time you were collared.” He beckoned his slave closer.

 Collaring was important to Mulder. Somehow it summed up the difference between merely playing, and it meaning something important – something to do with consent, and trust, and affection. He knew he would never be able to spank his slave if he hadn’t first collared him. He wasn’t sure he really understood why it was so important, but it was. Skinner hadn’t laid a finger on his new slave until he had been collared, and the removal of his collar several months later had signaled that their relationship was in a state of serious hiatus, and that he had no rights save those his Master was kind enough to give him. His recent collaring ceremony was still very fresh in his mind – and the marks of the bullwhip used during that ceremony were still faintly visible on his buttocks, so he didn’t want to demean the collaring process with smart ass comments. He stopped treating the whole thing like a giant joke, and looked down into the willing eyes of his new slave.

“I’m going to collar you, Bear. When I do, it will signal that you’re my slave, that you belong to me, and that you’re my property for this entire day, October 13, 2000. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Master.” Skinner’s eyes were serious too. He knelt straight-backed and solemn, never taking his eyes off his Master’s face, alert to every nuance of his Master’s mood. Mulder picked up the silver collar and ran his fingers over it lightly.

“It’s a beautiful collar. Thank you, slave.” Mulder realized how often his Master praised and thanked him. It was something he had barely been aware of before he had become a Master himself. His Master always insisted on good manners from his slave, but the fact that Skinner also practiced those same exquisite manners had passed him by. “I want you to kiss your collar before I fasten it,” Mulder said softly, holding out the strip of silver to the kneeling man. Skinner bent his head, and kissed it reverently. Mulder smiled, and ran his fingers over his slave’s bald scalp. Touching Skinner’s head had always been a favorite fantasy of his. Usually it was something he had to ask permission to do – and that permission was often denied - but now he was aware, with a heady thrill of joy, that he had a whole day to touch any part of his slave’s beautiful body with impunity. Skinner was his to do as he liked with, to touch as he liked, caress and fondle as he liked – and hurt as he liked too…if he liked. Mulder wasn’t sure about that last thought. A part of him longed to run straight up to the Playroom, get out all the most exotic toys, and try them out on his new slave…but something was stopping him. Was this how Skinner had felt, he wondered, when he first took possession of his new slave, all those months ago? He recalled that his Master had examined him thoroughly, but had been remarkably restrained in taking possession of his slave. In fact he had waited several days before sinking his cock into Mulder’s ass, despite his slave’s insistence that he was ready, and wanted to be taken in that way. Skinner hadn’t rushed him straight into the Playroom, and dug out all the best toys to use on his new plaything either. There had been a dignity and restraint in the way his Master had gotten to know his slave first, before introducing him to more exotic play slowly during the course of his training. Mulder’s fingers trembled slightly, as he opened the collar and snapped the fastening shut around his new slave’s neck. This wasn’t a game. This was important. Skinner closed his eyes as the collar tightened around his skin, and Mulder felt the weight of that responsibility even more keenly. This man was offering up everything to him. How had he never understood how it must feel to be the recipient of such a gift?

“You’re mine now,” he whispered to his slave. “Say it, slave.”

“I’m yours, Master. I belong to you.”

Skinner dipped his head and kissed his Master’s bare feet and then sat up again, utterly obedient, polite, and well trained – the epitome of the perfect slave…but not his slave. Skinner was the product of Andrew’s training, not Mulder’s. Skinner wasn’t Mulder’s creation, the way Mulder was his Master’s creation. Mulder was aware that he hadn’t tamed this slave in the slightest. Any power he had over Skinner right now had been given to him as a present from a kind Master. He hadn’t earned it, and he didn’t really know how to wield it. That thought made him a little glum. He had struggled all his life with a sense of not being good enough, and all those insecurities were resurfacing. Both he and his Master had fought a battle with Mulder’s self-destructive tendencies during his slavery – and it was a battle that they were finally starting to win. Mulder knew all his faults intimately. He had always been acutely self-aware, and far more critical about himself than he ever was about others. At his worst he could be wild, unrestrained, and headstrong – and bitterly cruel to himself. Skinner’s firm hand had steadied him, and he had finally come to understand that by offering up his weaknesses to his Master, he had, in some measure, learned how to control them. Now, ironically, having been given real control and freedom, he felt as if he was floundering. Mulder shook himself out of this reverie, a little shocked by the process he was going through. When Skinner had first delivered his birthday bombshell, Mulder had found the whole idea highly amusing - he had never expected that it might actually touch a nerve, and cause him to examine their relationship in a very fundamental way.

“Will you cuff me as well, Master?” Skinner asked, his eyes fixed intently on Mulder’s face. Mulder nodded, grateful to be distracted from his thoughts. He picked up the cuffs, and pulled Skinner’s wrists onto his lap.

“My slave. My captive,” he murmured, fastening the cuffs shut with a satisfying snapping sound. He imagined tying those cuffs to a post, or to the headboard of the bed, and immobilizing his slave, and his cock hardened at the thought.

“That bath sounds good, Bear. Go and prepare it,” Mulder ordered.

“Would Master like oils in the bath?” Skinner asked.

Mulder nodded and watched as his slave disappeared out of the door, and then he sank back on the bed, with a sigh. It was only as he relaxed that he realized how tall he had been holding himself. There was something about being a Master that made you stand up straight, and hold yourself proudly. His own Master walked with such grace and restrained power in every stride – it was no wonder that his muscles were often unexpectedly tense when Mulder massaged him on Master’s Day. 

Skinner returned a few minutes later, bearing a toweling gown. He held it out for Mulder to step into – only for the fledgling Master to find that it had been warmed.

“Thank you, slave,” he murmured, flushing slightly. He had never thought to warm his Master’s robe. It had never even occurred to him. He wondered how many more of his own shortcomings his slave would show up. His slave escorted him to the bathroom, which, Mulder noted, had been equipped with fresh, fluffy towels. Skinner’s shaving kit was laid out ready beside the basin. Skinner turned off the faucets, and then rose and pressed his fingertips lightly to his Master’s shoulders.

“Are you ready to take your bath, Master?” He asked courteously. “Should I help you with your robe?”

“Yes, slave.” Mulder nodded, feeling completely and utterly ridiculous. He was acutely aware that this was all wrong. He was the slave, and Skinner the Master. He just didn’t feel comfortable with this role reversal and he couldn’t relax. Skinner undid his robe, and then smoothed it away from his shoulders, and hung it over the radiator to warm again. Then he took Mulder’s hand and helped him into the bath – something that was entirely unnecessary, to Mulder’s mind, but, he had to admit, it was nice to feel so pampered. Skinner knelt beside the bath, and Mulder leaned back with a satisfied sigh, allowing the warm water to soothe him.

“This smells amazing. What oils did you use?” He asked his slave.

“Ylang ylang and sandalwood, Master,” Skinner replied with a smile.

Mulder gazed at his slave, startled by the pleasure in that smile. Skinner was enjoying this, he decided. His Master, his big, macho, utterly commanding, very stern Master, actually enjoyed being praised for something so small and inconsequential as the choice of bath oils. It was perplexing. Mulder closed his eyes, and then opened them again – his slave was still kneeling in position, awaiting his Master’s next order, utterly attentive.

“Play with yourself, Bear,” Mulder found himself saying. It was so good to just be able to feast his eyes on his slave’s naked flesh. Usually Skinner was clothed, and Mulder was the naked one, so his opportunities to just look at his Master up close and nude were limited. Now he could look all he liked - and he loved what he saw.

“Yes, Master.” Skinner gave a surprisingly shy smile, reaching for a small vial of oil that was resting beside the bath. He poured it into his hands until they were glistening, and then ran them idly over his body, starting at his chest, moving his fingers from one nipple to the other, fingering them. He smoothed his large, blunt fingertips down his stomach, going at a leisurely pace, and never taking his eyes off his Master’s face. Mulder was transfixed. Skinner might have been pleasuring his own body, but it was clear by the expression in his eyes that he was making love to his Master as he worked and Mulder’s cock hardened with the knowledge. He watched, completely enthralled, as Skinner wrapped a big hand around his cock, and slid it back and forth, until his meaty penis began to respond, hardening beneath the caress. His slave gave a little moan, and rocked in time to the rhythm he was playing on his cock, sliding, and pumping, his back arched, and his eyes fixed on his Master’s face. It was a beautiful sight and when, finally, Skinner moved his hand away from his cock it was Mulder’s turn to moan. His slave’s cock was rock hard, and weeping pre-come, and Mulder felt the loss of that hand almost as keenly as his slave must surely be feeling it.

“No,” he whispered, as Skinner began playing with his chest again, oiling his body with slow, sensuous hands. “Go back to your cock.”

“I’d like to, Master…but Master has forbidden me to come,” Skinner told him. “If I play there too much longer I’m afraid that I’ll disobey my Master.”

“All right,” Mulder sighed, feeling vaguely dissatisfied by the exchange. “You can stop, slave. That was very…entertaining,” which was an understatement, Mulder thought wryly to himself. He would never have imagined that his restrained Master could give himself over to such an exhibitionist display so easily. There had been nothing showy or vulgar about Skinner’s performance though – it had been entirely dignified, a private display purely for the pleasure of his Master. He remembered his own difficulties when his Master had first asked him to put on such a display. Skinner’s performance had been far more polished and willing  – but then he supposed that this was another thing that Andrew had taught the big man, and that thought made him feel unaccountably irritable. He sat up.

“Soap me, slave,” he ordered tersely.

Skinner looked startled by his change of mood, and quickly did his Master’s bidding. He didn’t run the soap directly over his Master’s skin though. Instead he lathered it between his own large hands first, replaced the soap on the dish beside the bath, and then placed his hands on his Master’s body, spreading the soapy lather lovingly over Mulder’s flesh. Mulder was startled. Why had he never thought to do that, he berated himself? Shit, he had been wandering around imagining himself to be a good little slave all this time, but Skinner knew moves he didn’t even know existed. It was depressing. His slave picked up a washcloth, and removed the soapy lather from his Master, never touching Mulder for long enough to be disrespectful, but making sure that every inch of his Master was gently and lovingly washed. All his heart and soul seemed to go into this simple act, and Mulder felt utterly prized, treasured and adored. It was a good feeling – but no different to the way he usually felt in his Master’s presence if he was honest. Slave or Master, Skinner’s love for him was always obvious, even if the ways in which he expressed it were completely different. Skinner politely asked permission to wash his Master’s hair, which Mulder gave, and then leaned back as his slave poured warm water over his head and gently massaged shampoo into his scalp. It was all so soothing that he almost fell asleep. When his slave was done, he helped his Master from the bath, and enveloped him in a warm, fluffy towel. Then he took another towel and bent to dry his Master from the toes up. Mulder enjoyed the sight of his slave’s broad back, the muscles rippling under the skin as he caressed his Master’s body. He was starting to zone out as a result of all this attention, and, try as he might, he couldn’t think of a way to exert his Mastery over his slave in any way. Skinner seemed to have the whole slave thing down pat anyway. There just didn’t seem to be anything he could order his slave to do that Skinner wasn’t already doing and that made Mulder feel jittery and out of control. He had the feeling that somehow something more was expected of him but he didn’t know what. Finally, his slave wrapped him up in that warm robe again, towel-dried his hair, and gestured to his Master to stand in front of the mirror in order that he could shave him. Skinner took up position behind Mulder, applied shaving cream to his Master’s face, and then picked up the cut-throat razor from the neatly arranged kit beside the basin.

“How many balloons did you kill first?” Mulder asked, eyeing the razor wearily.

“Hundreds.” Skinner grinned. “I can assure you that I’m perfectly proficient with this, Master. I used to shave Andrew every day with it. It’s not a skill you forget.”
Mulder nodded at him, feeling surly again. So Andrew got shaved every day did he? While Mulder only shaved his Master once a week, on Master’s Day. Skinner was as good as he said he was though - Mulder didn’t think he’d had a cleaner shave even at the barbers. He stroked his flesh in wonder and thanked his slave who smiled and washed the razor carefully before replacing it in its case. Then he escorted his Master back to the bedroom.

“Would Master like to be massaged on the bed, or in the Playroom?” Skinner asked softly, kneeling beside the bed in the submissive position while he awaited his reply.

“Here will be fine.” Mulder cleared his throat, his voice slightly croaky. When Skinner had first given him the key to the Playroom, the first thing he had wanted to do was to run up there and play…but now he found himself avoiding going there. He knew why, deep inside. Skinner was such an expert on all those devices in the Playroom. How could Mulder possibly be expected to be as good at wielding them as his Master? He’d do something stupid and make an ass of himself, and ruin forever even the illusion that he could ever be a top.

“Very well, Master. Shall I prepare the bed?” Skinner asked. Mulder nodded, and hung around, his arms folded defensively across his chest, feeling useless as he watched Skinner place towels over the sheets and plump up the pillows. He tried to remember what Skinner did while waiting for his slave to prepare something. How did a Master stand? What did he do? He found that he had no idea. Skinner was so much the Master that he could have stood on his head eating peanuts while Mulder made the bed and he still would have looked like a Master. He just had ‘it’ whatever ‘it’ was – that indefinable, effortless quality of authority that made a good Master, and Mulder was acutely aware that he didn’t have it. Skinner finished his preparations, returned to his Master’s side, pressed his fingertips to his Master’s shoulders, and asked if it would all right for him to remove his robe once more. Mulder nodded curtly, feeling more like a child than a Master. He threw himself face down on the bed, wondering when this whole experience had gone from being good fun to being so disconcerting. He knew that he could turn around and tell his slave that he had had enough, and wanted to return to the status quo but he had his pride – and besides, it seemed churlish to throw a birthday present back into the face of the man he loved. Skinner had thought he would enjoy this, and he felt guilty because he wasn’t.

 Not even his strange mood could stop him enjoying the massage though. Skinner proved to be as expert at that as he had been at everything else, and Mulder became more and more blissed out as those strong, oiled fingers explored every inch of his skin, soothing out a myriad of little knots and stresses. Even so, a part of him longed for his slave to slip a finger between his ass cheeks, the way his Master would have done when caressing him. Skinner was far too well trained a slave to take such liberties. Mulder was dimly aware that Andrew Linker must have thoroughly deserved the reputation he had in BDSM scene circles. From all he had heard from the big man’s own lips Skinner had not been an easy student to teach, but he had certainly learned his lessons well. Mulder felt utterly boneless by the time the massage ended. Skinner’s hands were curiously gentle for such a large man, and he served his Master well. Mulder was so out of it that it actually took him several minutes to realize that the massage was over, and that his slave had once again resumed his kneeling position by the bed, eyes down, back straight, his cock and balls thrust a little forward should it please his Master to play with them.

“That was…” Mulder felt dreamy, and detached, and his voice sounded strange to his ears. “Fantastic,” he mumbled, dropping his head to the pillow again.

“If Master would like to rest for a while, I could begin cooking his breakfast,” Skinner suggested.

“What? Yeah. Breakfast. Uh…yes. Thanks.” Mulder felt his insides squirming with embarrassment as his slave disappeared. Oh god, how Masterful had that been? He buried his face in the pillow, wondering how on earth he could be a worthy Master to such an amazingly perfect slave. It was frustrating. Skinner seemed to be one step ahead of him the whole time. It seemed almost cruel to even think about spanking such a slave, even though that was one of the things he had been itching to do since he had first woken up to his birthday surprise.

With a sigh, Mulder got up, and quickly dressed himself in sweatpants and a tee shirt. He felt somewhat rebellious getting dressed when Skinner had said that he would dress his Master but he wanted some control here though, damnit! At least he’d go down to breakfast, rather than wait for his slave to grab the initiative again by coming back up here and being all solicitous in escorting him down the stairs – or, god forbid, by bringing his breakfast to him in bed. Mulder quailed at that thought, and, grabbing his sneakers and newspaper, ran down the stairs two at a time.

His slave had set the table and was busy in the kitchen. Mulder looked at the table, and frowned.

“Bear,” he called. Skinner glanced out of the kitchen, a surprised look on his face. “There’s only one place setting,” Mulder commented.

“Yes, Master. I didn’t like to presume that you’d allow me to eat with you. I could lay another place if it pleased you. Or I’d be happy to eat in the kitchen after Master has eaten, unless Master wished to feed me himself? Or maybe Master doesn’t intend me to eat?” Skinner waited patiently for his answer, and Mulder felt wrong-footed again. Skinner had neatly outlined all his Master’s options and now none of them felt like commands – he just felt he would be following his slave’s suggestion, whatever he did. He felt like waving a hand and snapping, “please yourself,” but stopped himself.

“Wait on me, and then you can kneel beside the table for me to feed you,” he growled tersely. Skinner’s eyes widened slightly at Mulder’s tone. Mulder winced slightly – in their usual roles he knew he’d have been punished for behaving like this, but they weren’t in their usual roles and he felt all at sea.

“Have I upset you in some way, Master?” Skinner asked gently.

“Yes, you have. You’re too fucking perfect!” Mulder snapped.

There was silence. Skinner’s eyes were startled, and a little hurt. Mulder suddenly felt like a total bastard. That little display hadn’t exactly come out of the ‘Good Master’s Handbook’ he thought. His own Master had never sworn at his slave or belittled him like this.

“Would Master like me to be less attentive?” Skinner asked softly, after a long period during which they both stood there, gazing at each other uncertainly.

“No. No.” Mulder was surprised to find he meant that. On one level he was enjoying all the attention, but he just couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve never had so much as a cleaner for my apartment before. I sure as hell haven’t had a maid, cook, manservant and sex slave rolled into one,” he joked feebly. “It takes a bit of getting used to. Bring breakfast out when you’re done. I’ll be reading the paper.” Skinner’s “Yes Master,” wafted after him as he returned to the dining room.

Mulder read the paper, relaxing, and enjoying the feeling of being able to lounge around actually wearing clothes in the apartment, his feet up, being waited upon, and not having to address himself to his Master’s needs, or to always have his ass available for any stray spank his Master wanted to bestow on it.

Breakfast was delicious – which didn’t come as even the remotest surprise to Mulder. His slave rustled up a stack of the most perfect, fluffy pancakes, and then knelt beside his Master while Mulder devoured them. He decided that he’d feed his slave after he was done. Maybe that would make him feel more like a Master. It was nice, he had to admit, eating happily, reading the paper propped up on the table in front of him, his free hand fondling his slave’s head as he chewed. Skinner put his chin on Mulder’s knee, and Mulder smiled as he played with his slave’s ears. He knew from personal experience how good it was to kneel in silent devotion beside his Master, his chin on his Master’s knee like an adoring puppy. Maybe slaves everywhere felt the same way. He glanced down at his slave, who looked up at him, his dark eyes attentive behind his wirerims.

“Are you hungry, Bear?” He asked.

“Yes, Master.” Skinner sat up.

“Do you want breakfast?” Mulder grinned, and arranged a nice gooey piece of pancake, covered in blueberry sauce, on the end of his fork. He held it out enticingly.

“Yes, Master.” Skinner nodded.

“Beg for it then,” Mulder ordered.

Skinner hesitated and Mulder suddenly felt like the worst Master in the entire universe. Why on earth had he demanded that his slave do something so demeaning? Skinner had never given him such a humiliating order, for which he was suddenly profoundly grateful. “It’s okay.” Mulder put the forkful of food into his slave’s mouth, silencing him before he could beg. He didn’t want to see this beautiful, dignified, attentive man humiliated in any way. Skinner was giving him his slavery as a gift; the last thing Mulder wanted to do was to belittle this man. His own slavery had bolstered his very flagging self-esteem and confidence to such a degree that it seemed a travesty of the Master/slave bond to do anything that would undermine his own slave’s confidence. It struck him that in the hands of the wrong Master a slave could have his whole life ruined, but with the right Master his life could be transformed, and he could learn how to fly. That was what Skinner had given to him. How could he ever hope to emulate such a Master? He fed his slave quickly, carefully, and solicitously, and then sent him to do the dishes, while he sat down on the couch with a sigh. Everything he did seemed to be wrong and he didn’t know how to assert himself at all in this situation. He was so lost in these dark thoughts that he was surprised when something nudged his hand half an hour or so later, and, looking down, he saw his slave, kneeling by the sofa.

“Does Master require anything else?” Skinner asked.

Mulder felt his slave’s insightful dark eyes boring holes into him. Trust Skinner to be sharp enough to know what was going on in Mulder’s tortured thought processes. He didn’t want to be at the mercy of those eyes right now. He wanted to enjoy his birthday present, to feel strong, and masterful, and give orders and really immerse himself in this whole experience and those dark eyes seemed to be judging him, and finding him profoundly lacking.

“No. Go and do some chores or something,” he snapped moodily. Skinner flinched slightly, but withdrew, leaving Mulder to channel-hop idly while his slave was otherwise occupied. It felt weird not being naked, and being able to do whatever he liked on a Saturday. Usually his Master had plans for him, and often they involved very dull and mindless chores – or else a totally mind blowing session in the Playroom, Saturdays being slave’s day after all. He wished he could enjoy his freedom a little more, but Mulder felt too much on edge – and for too many reasons of him to fully analyze. The key to the Playroom seemed to be burning a hole into his neck. Usually on a Saturday, he couldn’t wait to go up to that treasure trove, and now, having been given carte blanche to do just that, he was hesitating. Shit, he’d been Master for several hours already and he had neither spanked nor fucked his slave yet – what the hell was wrong with him?

His mood grew darker as he pondered this thorny issue, and when his slave returned a few minutes later he glared at him. Skinner looked at him for a moment, clearly sensing his Master’s mood. He sat down on the armchair opposite Mulder, and surveyed his Master intently.

“Is there a problem, Master?” He asked. “Is there something I can do to help?”

Mulder wrestled with it for a while. He really didn’t want to come out of role. He wanted to do this damn it, but he just felt so inhibited about it. Finally he gave in.

“Yes. I think…I want to be a slave again,” he said with a sigh.

“I could sense that you didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself enough,” Skinner commented softly. “What’s the problem, Fox?”

“I don’t know.” Mulder stared moodily at the TV, but he wasn’t watching it.

“Look, if that’s what you want then it’s fine.” Skinner shrugged. “I can order you up to the Playroom and take you back down to what you are for the other 364 days of the year. This wasn’t supposed to be an ordeal – it was supposed to be fun. If it isn’t then we can change that.”

“Yeah.” Mulder played listlessly with the buttons on the remote control.

“Do you want that?” Skinner pressed. “It’s your birthday, Fox.”

“No, see, I like the idea of this…but I can’t seem to do it,” Mulder growled savagely. “And you, you’re such a perfect slave, which just makes me realize that I’m not, and I can’t even begin to do the Master thing either. I’m useless. I mean, you haven’t screwed up once so I can’t even spank you. And what’s the point of ordering you not to come when you don’t have a damn hard on anyway?” He groused, glancing pointedly at Skinner’s flaccid cock. “I spend my whole time with a hard on so it means something when you say I can’t come, but you…” he shrugged. “Oh I don’t know.” He sank back into the couch.

“Okay.” Skinner pressed his hands together thoughtfully. “Look, Fox, you’ve recently talked about wondering what it was like to top – so I thought I’d give you the opportunity with as little pressure as possible. This is your birthday after all. As far as I’m concerned you can sit here and have me feed you chocolate all day if that’s what turns you on. You’re the Master. I’m not judging the kind of Master you want to be. That’s the freedom I wanted to give you - the freedom to do what you like without worrying about it, because it’s a one off. I forgot about the phenomenal amount of pressure you put on yourself.” He gave a wry smile. “Now, we can do this another way, with me giving you a tutoring session in the Playroom, perhaps using a willing sub like Ian so you can have some experience of topping, but you’d be limited as there are a great many things that I won’t tolerate my slave doing to another man. That’s why I offered myself. Another way to do it would be for me to just give you a tutoring session using myself as the sub, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate being told what to do and how to do it – and I don’t think it would give you any true idea of what it’s like to be in charge. You wanted the full experience of being a top, and this is it, warts and all.”

“You mean you feel like this?” Mulder looked up. “All this responsibility, the pressure of having to think up what to do, and to always be the Master? To behave like a Master, so that you walk, talk, think and breathe it? To be strict with your slave without crushing his spirit or making him do anything that demeans him? To know how to turn him on, and to be turned on yourself at the same time? To have the freedom to go as far as you want, and do what you want, without forgetting that he’s real flesh and blood too?”

Skinner gave a gentle smile. “Yes, Fox. All of that,” he murmured. “Only I have a lot more experience of it, so it comes a little more easily to me.”

Mulder nodded thoughtfully. “There are things I want to do.” He examined his fingernails. “But I guess I’m also a bit freaked that they are things I want to do. Spanking for example.” He bit on his lip. “I really want to do that, but how do you resolve the issue inside? How do you deal with the fact that you want to hurt someone? To inflict pain?”

“It comes with the territory.” Skinner shrugged. “Fox, I know what you mean. There have been times when I’ve done things to you that would be considered torture. I’ve enjoyed them in the most part because you enjoy them so much, but there’s also something inside me that enjoys it period. I’m not a violent man, or a bloodthirsty one, and that realization was something that freaked me out too to begin with. Sometimes I very much don’t enjoy it either. There have been times when I’ve punished you for instance, when I’d much rather have been fucking you senseless or giving you an erotic spanking, but you’ve needed to be brought down, and you’ve needed to know that I’ll do that for you, even if you’d have done anything at the time to escape so severe a spanking. I’ve delivered some spankings after all that were purely for punishment, and gave neither of us any pleasure during your time as my slave.”

“You can say that again.” Mulder shifted uncomfortably on the couch, remembering at least three occasions when the spankings had been in deadly earnest and exceedingly painful and there had been no question of him being turned on by them.

“So what I’m saying is that there are duties as well as pleasures to being a Master – just as there are to being a slave.” Skinner smiled, and Mulder returned the smile uncertainly. “And if you can’t come to terms with the side of yourself that wants to inflict a little bit of pain, by way of spanking, or nipple clamps, or whatever, then you don’t have to.” Skinner shrugged. “This entire day is in your hands and you can go as far as you want – or nowhere at all if you don’t want to explore this side of yourself. If you do want to however, then I’m here.” He smiled again. “You see the thing is that I trust you. I don’t think you’re going to unleash a sadistic monster. I know you too well for that. You should have more faith in yourself. And as for enjoying it – well, think how you’ve been beating up on yourself for being weak because you like being sexually submissive, and then think of the amount of beating up on myself I did when I realized I liked being sexually dominant. It’s easier to accept that you like being spanked than to accept that you like inflicting pain.”
Mulder stared at Skinner open-mouthed, trying to take this information in. He had never viewed the world this way before and it was both mind blowing and liberating. The psychology of it fascinated his profiler’s mind.

“So how did you come to terms with it?” He asked.

“Well, it helps not to think of it as pain – I mean there are many acts of love-making where pain and pleasure are so interlinked as to be indistinguishable. Sometimes the sensation of orgasm can be painful just because it’s so intense – but nobody would deny that it’s also pleasurable. So, that’s how I think of it. Not as giving pain per se, but giving sensation – intensity. And there are people like you, who enjoy receiving, who need people like me, who enjoy giving. It doesn’t mean that you’re weak or that I’m sadistic. It just means that we’re responsible adults, who’ve recognized our needs and are fulfilling them without harming anyone. Not ourselves, not anybody else, not society in general. That’s what I call being responsible anyway.” He shrugged. “Do you still want to give up the role, Fox?” He asked softly. “Because if you do that’s fine. Like I said, it’s your birthday.”

“No. I don’t want to give it up. I want to see what it is that attracts you to it. I want to find out something about myself,” Mulder sighed. “But I need to let go and I seem to be too inhibited to do that.”

“Well, it’s a big role reversal so I can see where you might have problems with that, but this isn’t a performance, Fox. It’s a journey of discovery. I’m not judging you on how good a Master you are today, so you shouldn’t judge yourself. You certainly shouldn’t judge your own slavery against how well or badly I perform as your slave.”

“But you do all this great stuff, and…I wondered if you were being the kind of slave that you wanted me to be…that I’m not,” Mulder said miserably.

Skinner laughed. “Fox, I’m more than happy with my slave, thank you very much,” he said. “I’m the slave I want to be. We each of us have to find the kind of Master and slave that we can be, that we feel comfortable being. Some Masters never use pain – they are only interested in the dom/sub aspects of a relationship. You might find that you’re one of those Masters. Some Masters only use pain because it’s what their subs want – like Perry does with Ian. Some enjoy using it, but do so wisely, knowing that when used properly it’s like a maestro playing a violin and can bring his sub the most intense pleasure. You have to figure out what kind of Master you are and that takes time, and experience. None of us can be a copy of anyone else – that would stop us being what we are, for a start and just make us all into clones, and I, for one, do not want a clone slave, and I’m sure that you don’t want to be one. You couldn’t be one. It isn’t you – and I chose you. And it has to be said that you’ve only seen my strong points. Taking care of my Master, seeing to his comfort – those are what I’m good at. There are other situations you could put me in where I’d be a lot less satisfying, believe me!” He gave an amused grin.

“I’d like to know what those situations are.” Mulder gave a sly grin of his own. Skinner shook his head and waggled a finger at him.

“Uh-huh.”

They were silent for a while as Mulder digested what he’d just learned. “I know exactly what you mean about being the slave or Master that you can be…” Mulder mused eventually. “I don’t want to just copy you. I don’t feel that’s me.”

“Well go with that then,” Skinner said encouragingly. “I could give you a few technical pointers. You mentioned that I was so perfect you couldn’t find a reason to spank me. Well, hell, you don’t need one, Fox! You’re the Master. You can spank me just because you like the idea and it turns you on. You have to remember that I’ve given myself to you. I’ve done that freely, trusting you, and knowing that there are many ways in which you might want to amuse yourself with me. Giving yourself freely, without caveat, is at the crux of what it means to be a slave, but accepting that gift freely, without caveat, is equally at the crux of what it means to be a Master. You do your slave a disservice by not accepting that gift in the spirit in which it was given.”
Mulder felt stunned by this revelation. There was something so perfect about it, and so true, that it took his breath away.

“As for me not having an erection…well, Fox, you’re in charge. Order me to keep one all the time I’m in your presence, and at the same time order me not to come.” Skinner shrugged, a broad grin playing across his face. “Those are the tricks of the trade. Use them!”

Mulder shook his head, laughing softly. “You see, that’s why you’re the Master,” he commented.

“And you have one day in which to experience that state to the max yourself,” Skinner replied. “One day, Fox. That’s all I’m giving you right now. Who knows when this opportunity will present itself again? Just let go, and enjoy. You know you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Mulder nodded, feeling much more confident. “Okay.” He took a deep breath.

“Do what you enjoy, not what you think you should be doing – it’ll flow much better if you do,” Skinner advised. Mulder nodded again. “And tomorrow, we need to have a serious discussion about why you think a well behaved slave is boring and a naughty one is more fun.” Skinner grinned.

“Hey, you promised no payback!” Mulder protested, relaxing now that he’d aired his worries.

“I said discussion.” Skinner raised an amused eyebrow. “Not punishment. You seem to have a permanently guilty conscience, boy.”

“Okay, okay, already,” Mulder grinned. “Now, are you going to be my slave again or what?”

“Your wish is my command.” Skinner stood up, stretched his magnificent body and then knelt gracefully by his Master’s side. Mulder considered the matter for a moment. No matter how butter-wouldn’t-melt Skinner looked right now, kneeling in the submissive position with his eyes cast down, he refused to believe that his slave could enter subspace that easily. Just a few seconds ago he’d called him ‘boy’ and now he was a fully submissive slave? Mulder didn’t think so. They both needed some space to adjust to the change in roles or it wouldn’t work.  An evil idea occurred to him – something that would have the virtue of helping his slave get back into role as well as providing Mulder with some innocent payback. He got up, and ordered his slave to follow him, then strode out of the room with a broad grin creasing his face, mirth bubbling up inside him. Oh this was good! This was revenge!

“Here you go,” he said, flinging open the door to the laundry room with a flourish. “My shirts, slave. I want them ironed.” He gestured in the direction of a pile of crumpled shirts in a basket. He sent both his and Skinner’s work clothes out for cleaning, but he often washed their casual clothes himself. Skinner liked to have a little bit of laundry for his slave to do occasionally, as a suitably mindless pursuit both for punishment purposes and to remind him of his status in the household. Mulder’s slave surveyed the laundry with an impassive look on his face, and then walked obediently across to the basket of crumpled clothing, but Mulder caught the look of barely suppressed amusement in his slave’s eyes. Skinner was biting down hard on his lip as he turned on the iron.

“Yes…” he began in a choked voice. He swallowed hard, his eyes full of mirth, and tried again. “Yes, Master.” His face had gone red, and he looked as if he was going to have an apoplectic fit from trying not to laugh at the poetic justice of finally having to do the chore his own slave hated so much.

“Was there something you wanted to share with me, slave?” Mulder raised an eyebrow, struggling hard to keep from laughing himself.

“Uh, no…Master,” Skinner said weakly, hanging to his persona of perfect slave by the skin of his teeth.

“Are you sure?” Mulder purred, unable to resist. He felt a wave of pure malicious glee course through him as he stalked over to his naked slave, took up position behind him, and rested his chin on Skinner’s shoulder, his mouth close to his slave’s ear. “Shirts.” Mulder enunciated the word as if he was making love to it. “Lovely, crumpled shirts, just waiting to be ironed.” He picked one up, and held it in front of his slave, his arms wrapped around his slave’s body. It was very nice being this close to Skinner’s naked butt he thought to himself, his cock responding hungrily to the knowledge.

“Yes, Master. I love ironing, Master,” Skinner said in a dreamy voice.

“Nobody can love ironing. It’s not humanly possible,” Mulder responded, despairingly, utterly aghast.

“I do, Master.” Skinner grabbed the shirt that was being held out tantalizingly towards him, put it on the ironing board, and began the chore in question. “It appeals to my sense of order, Master. Bringing smooth, unwrinkled perfection where once there was chaos,” he said in an almost orgasmic tone, sliding the iron across the garment, and ironing out the wrinkles.

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, slave, now would you?” Mulder purred, waiting to pounce, waiting for Skinner to give way to the laughter that was threatening to consume them both. Skinner struggled. His body was trembling with the effort of not laughing but then, with the masterful self-control that Mulder had come to know and respect all too well in the big man, he pulled himself together, smiled beatifically at his Master, and shook his head.

“No, Master. I wouldn’t lie to you, Master,” he intoned unctuously.

Mulder gave a snort of pure disbelief, and gave in. “That’s good, slave, because there’s a whole basket full of clothes here for you to enjoy ironing. You can come back to the living room when you’re done,” he ordered.

Skinner nodded at him, his face utterly serene, only the tiniest of glints in his dark brown eyes betraying his amusement. Mulder shook his head, still grinning, and exited the room. He was only half way down the corridor when he heard a deep, bass, pealing belly laugh emerge from the laundry room. He paused in mid-stride, and gave in to the laughter himself, giggling helplessly until he was out of breath before struggling back to the living room and throwing himself down weakly on the couch, utterly exhausted.

He lay there for a moment, and then pulled himself together. He had to plan his next step. He didn’t want to waste his time as Master by having his slave do chores all day. Skinner was right – Mulder had one opportunity to experience this, and it might never come again. He wanted to enjoy it. Even if he turned out to be the most useless Master in the universe, he wanted to know what it felt like to take this role. What surprised him most was how much he was learning about his own slavery through this whole experience, and somehow he was sure that wasn’t by accident. His Master was a very astute man, and he must have known that this little lesson in topping would give his slave pause for thought. Now he had to think what to do next. Skinner had told him to enjoy himself, and do what he wanted rather than what he thought he should. What did he want to do? Mulder found the answer to that one easily enough. He realized that although his own Master loved having a naked slaveboy around, and much as he appreciated looking at his Master’s nude body, one of the things he always fantasized about doing was dressing Skinner. The other man’s magnificent physique looked so good when shown off under the right clothing – and until now he’d had little say in what his Master wore. Of course Skinner was a pretty good dresser, but Mulder had a yen to put his slave in outfits he would never normally wear. What else…? When he thought about it, it occurred to him that he liked the idea of playing with his Master a lot more than anything else. Just the thought of having his slave tied up and writhing under his mouth and hands was a turn on. He remembered that Skinner had mentioned having problems with tight bondage…he had no wish to cause his slave any undue distress, but it would be good to put his slave in a position where he wasn’t so sure of himself, and where he had to trust his Master. Another idea occurred to him. He gave a sly grin, got up, and went purposefully into the kitchen. He examined the contents of the cupboards and fridge, retrieved a few items, and then he headed for the Playroom. 

It felt strange to be letting himself into this hallowed room, which he had only entered before as a slave. He took a deep breath, and then dumped the items he had brought with him in the en-suite bathroom and left them there, before going to examine the contents of the Playroom cupboards. Finally, with a satisfied nod, he turned and went back downstairs to the laundry room. He paused outside for several seconds, psyching himself into the role. He was the Master. He was in charge. His slave existed to do his bidding. Then, with butterflies emerging unexpectedly in the pit of his stomach, he opened the door.  

Several shirts were hanging stiffly from hangers, utterly devoid of even the slightest crease. Mulder had expected nothing less of his perfect slave and managed to refrain from rolling his eyes in disgust – just. He gestured his slave out, holding on hard to his Master’s demeanor as he did so.

“I want you to go upstairs to the Playroom, and wait for me in there,” he ordered in a low tone of voice. “I want you kneeling but not in the submissive position. I want your ass in the air, and I want you to think about how that ass is available for me to use, or spank. Now go.”

Skinner gazed at his Master thoughtfully, clearly digesting this change in attitude, and then he nodded, and disappeared without another word. Mulder watched him go, and then turned back and examined the shirts. They were all perfectly and exquisitely pressed. They even smelt delicious, and he guessed his slave must have sprayed some kind of fragranced softening agent onto them or something. It was disgusting. He caught sight of Wanda lying happily in a basket on top of the dryer and idly stroked the top of her head.

“How come, that even when he’s the slave you still prefer to hang out with him, huh?” He teased her, tweaking an ear. She regarded him solemnly as if the answer to that question was entirely obvious and he laughed. He lingered for a moment, stroking her, giving his slave plenty of time to get into position – and into the right frame of mind - and fighting his own battle with a severe attack of stage fright that was making his insides churn. Finally, he took several deep breaths, and then climbed the stairs to the Playroom.

His slave was waiting for him as ordered. In fact, the sight of his naked slave, with his beautiful, taut ass raised perfectly in the air for his Master’s attention was such an erotic sight that Mulder paused on the threshold just to enjoy it. He remembered many occasions when his Master had seemed to him to pause for an agonizingly long time before approaching his kneeling slave. At the time he’d assumed it was just a way of further tormenting his waiting slave, but now he realized that maybe it was simply so that the other man could appreciate the sight in front of him.

Skinner’s body was completely still. He looked as if he’d been carved from marble. His muscles were slightly bunched, and the curve of his back was mirrored by the curve of his smooth scalp and his ass, like some beautiful, symmetrical work of art. His head was bowed low, and his buttocks had never looked more perfect. They were two unblemished, rounded globes of flesh, and they were also, Mulder realized with a warm glow of appreciation, his. They belonged to him. He had never realized what a thrill that would be – the owning of another being, the knowledge that they belonged to you, and with it the profound realization that they trusted you to treat that gift wisely, and not abuse it. Mulder went to stand beside his slave. He crouched, ran a gentle hand over his slave’s back, and was surprised and gratified when his slave shivered slightly at his Master’s touch. Skinner was clearly a very responsive slave.

“Very good, Bear. You can relax now.”

His slave did so, visibly, and came into a more upright position. Mulder turned and went over to the cupboards.

“Heel, Bear,” he ordered and he knew, without looking around, that his slave had fallen into step behind him. He opened the cupboard and looked through it.

“I want to dress you, Bear,” he said softly, never raising his voice, concentrating hard on staying in role. “Bring out all the items befitting a slave that will fit you and place them on the table so I can decide how you should be clothed.”

“Yes, Master.” His slave hurried to do his bidding, and Mulder went to the next cupboard, that contained toys instead of clothing. He searched through it and found the sturdy wooden paddle that had never been used on his own butt that he had earmarked earlier. He got it out and swung it through the air a few times, becoming accustomed to the weight and feel of it, and making sure his slave heard the swishing sound as it whistled through the air. Then he placed the paddle on the table next to the array of clothing his slave had arranged there. He sorted through the items, noting as he did so that his slave was once again kneeling in position, ready and waiting.

 A long black leather harness drew his attention. He liked the idea of his slave wearing this. It wrapped around the body, the leather looping into several round steel rings at regular intervals. Mulder could see that there were clips for attaching it to a collar and cock ring and he glanced at his slave thoughtfully. Skinner had a large, meaty cock - not pretty, but powerful looking. Mulder decided that cock needed more of a work out. He gestured with his head and his slave was by his side in seconds.

“I’m going to put this on you, but first I want you to bring me a cock and ball harness from the cupboard,” he said, in the same low tones that he’d been using since he’d made a decision to tackle this role properly. In his head, for some reason he’d always associated Mastery with terse orders and even yelling, which was absurd because his own Master certainly never spoke to him in such a manner. Now that he was in the role himself, he found that he didn’t want to be either terse, or to yell. It struck him that both those things spoke of a Master with a certain amount of insecurity. He remembered earlier, when he had snapped at his slave and belittled him, and how both those actions came from his own fears and worries about his ability to perform this role. Now that he was trying to get into the mindset, he found that he wanted to speak softly, and politely. It wasn’t necessary to posture and pose – he already had his slave’s undivided attention after all.

Skinner returned with the items Mulder had requested, and before he could kneel again, Mulder told him to remain standing.

“Put your hands behind your head, Bear, and look straight ahead.” His slave did as he was told, his sharp brown eyes assessing his Master’s order behind the wirerims. That gave Mulder another thought. His slave was very self-assured – and he wanted to throw him off balance a little.

“How well can you see without these?” He asked, touching his slave’s glasses.

Skinner frowned. “My vision is blurry without them, Master, but I can see well enough to serve you,” he said.

“Blurry. Well, I think I’d prefer you to be blurry right now,” Mulder replied. He removed his slave’s glasses, and placed them carefully on top of the spanking horse, well out of the way of any harm. Then he returned to his slave…and stopped short, startled by the difference the lack of glasses made to his slave’s appearance. He had seen Skinner without the wirerims on several occasions of course, but not for long as the other man didn’t like to be without them. This, Mulder assumed, partly stemmed from his need to be sharp, alert, and in control of his world. Well, now there was no need for him to be in control of anything. What surprised him though was how much the glasses stripped away his own perception of Skinner’s identity. His slave, he noted, had very beautiful eyes, and his eyelashes were thicker and longer than he had ever noticed before. There was a bashful, almost shy expression in those eyes now that the glasses were removed. Had that always been there, or was it only there because his slave was in a position of such vulnerability, naked, his hands behind his head, and without the familiar security of those glasses, guarding his eyes and hiding his true feelings. Mulder came close, and stared for a long time at the new face this gave to the man he had thought he knew so intimately. Skinner endured the gaze for a few seconds and then dropped his eyes. Mulder tapped his chin.

“Eyes up, slave. I want to look at them.”

His slave obeyed, and Mulder spent several minutes just looking at his slave’s face, occasionally reaching out to turn his slave’s head to the side, or back to the front again. Skinner looked younger without his wirerims, that was for certain. His eyes were much warmer without the glass barrier as well.

“All right, Bear. Hold still. I don’t want you to move or break position for any reason while I dress you. Understood?” Mulder asked.

“Yes, Master.” His slave stared straight ahead, and Mulder was pleased to see him swallowing hard, as if steeling himself for an ordeal. Skinner had been right when he said that in certain situations his slave skills were less polished. Mulder could imagine that worshipping and taking care of a Master came easily to the big man, but allowing his Master to play with him, without knowing exactly what would be done to him, came much harder. He also knew that his slave had a perfectionist’s streak. He would want to obey to the best of his ability and would berate himself if he failed in any way. Skinner was not a man who liked to fail.

Mulder went slowly, wrapping the harness around his slave’s shoulders, and then down to the cleft between his buttocks. He pulled the thong tight, making sure that it dug deep into his slave’s crease, and his slave gave a sharp intake of breath.

“All right, Bear?” Mulder asked.

“Yes, Master.” Skinner pulled his shoulders back and straightened again.

“Good, then open your legs. I want you to feel the thong between your ass cheeks.” His slave obeyed, and Mulder ensured that the thong was pressed even further into the dark cleft of his slave’s ass, until it separated the buttocks nicely into two enticing globes. He pulled the thong forwards, and threaded Skinner’s cock through the ring at the other end. Then he pulled two leather straps down from the chest harness, and attached them both to the ring. He arranged the harness so that his slave’s nipples were showing through two more steel rings, and then stepped back to admire his slave.

The harness showed Skinner’s body off to perfection. Mulder gave a satisfied smile and then returned to run his hands over it.

“Does it chafe anywhere?” He asked his slave.

Skinner shook his head. “It’s a little tight in my ass, Master,” he replied.

“Painful, or just a little uncomfortable?” Mulder asked.

“Uncomfortable, Master,” Skinner said.

“Well, then it stays. I’m sure my slave won’t mind suffering a little discomfort for his Master’s pleasure.” Mulder smiled.

Skinner nodded, accepting his Master’s decision without question.

“It does show off these exquisite ass cheeks to perfection,” Mulder observed, squeezing his slave’s buttocks. Skinner made another tiny sound in the back of his throat, and Mulder grinned. “I’m not finished yet though. I want that cock of yours to experience a little discomfort too,” he murmured. He drew close to his slave, and, without warning, pulled Skinner’s head close, and kissed him firmly. His slave made a little sound of surprise, but didn’t break position, his hands remaining locked behind his head as his Master plundered his lips thoroughly. This was good, Mulder thought to himself. Usually he yearned for kisses as a slave, and had to ask permission to receive them, like everything else. The sheer joy of being given carte blanche to just claim them, whenever he liked, was exhilarating. While still kissing his slave, Mulder reached down and took Skinner’s hardening cock in his hand. He pumped it firmly, kissing his slave the entire time, until the other man’s cock was fully erect in his hand. Only then did he release his gasping slave.

“That’s good. I like that,” Mulder crooned, looking down on the rampantly stiff member that had risen between them. His own cock did a reciprocal leap of appreciation within his sweat pants. “Now, we’re going to make sure it stays that way.” He reached for the cock harness – which was of the leather ‘Gates of Hell’ variety, and fastened it around his slave’s cock and balls, pulling it tight so that it would keep his slave erect, but not enough to cut off the blood supply. He drew back, noting with some satisfaction that his slave’s cock was now darkly purpled from the stimulation and slight discomfort of the device.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you now, slave?” he asked, circling his slave appreciatively, and enjoying the sight of his slave’s muscled flesh, displayed perfectly within the leather and chain harness.

“No, Master.” His slave remained perfectly still, hands behind his head.

“I’m going to play with you, Bear. I don’t want you to move, and I don’t want you to speak. I just want you to accept. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

Mulder reached out a hand and inserted it between his slave’s thighs, slapping them further apart, and then he insolently fondled the sensitive inner skin there, trailing his fingernails over it. His slave licked his lips with his tongue, his face no longer impassive. Mulder grinned. He intended this to be a hard order to obey – that was the point. He trailed his fingers up over his slave’s chest, enjoying the feel of being able to indulge himself like this with Skinner’s body. There were so many places on his slave’s body that he had been able to explore only with Skinner’s permission. Now he didn’t need it. Now he could explore them at will, and somehow Mulder thought this might take a very long time. And the joy of it was that Skinner couldn’t move. He just had to accept. Mulder stood in front of his slave, and bent his head to take one of his slave’s nipples in his mouth. His slave gasped. Mulder wanted more than that though. He sucked down hard, teasing the nipple between his teeth, and at last his slave broke, his hands going instinctively down to rest on his Master’s shoulders. Mulder continued what he was doing, teasing the nipple until he was satisfied, nibbling on it harder and harder, then biting down with some force, causing his slave to give a strangled sob and break position - trying to push his Master away. Mulder straightened.

“I gave you an order, Bear. If you’re having difficulty following my orders then you must say so. Your body belongs to me. This…” Mulder plucked the offending nipple between thumb and forefinger and his slave writhed in an entirely satisfactory way, “belongs to me,” he said, reaching for the paddle on the table. “I’m going to discipline you for your lapse. Hands behind your head again, Bear. Don’t break your position while I punish you.”

“Yes, Master.” Skinner nodded, doing as ordered. His eyes were expressionless as he obeyed so Mulder had no idea how the other man felt being on the receiving end of a spanking for once. It sure as hell gave Mulder a certain frisson at being able to hand one out. He was definitely going to enjoy this! 

Mulder took up position behind his slave, and ran his hand lovingly over the globes of flesh in front of him. He felt more in control of events now. He seemed to be establishing some kind of dynamic. It’s true that he had given his slave an order that he couldn’t be expected to obey under the circumstances, but what was it Skinner had said? He was Mulder’s slave – Mulder could do what the hell he liked with him. Mulder raised the paddle but he didn’t bring it down straight away. Instead he waited, grinning as his slave’s buttocks twitched in anticipation. A heady sense of power coursed through him. It was so good to be able to watch every last play of muscles under skin, to observe the way a slave’s body moved and responded to how it was being stimulated. After a significant pause, and just when Skinner’s buttocks were starting to relax, Mulder brought the paddle down hard on his left ass cheek. The blow left an immediate red mark on impact, and elicited the smallest of noises from his slave. Mulder knew that Skinner was not the kind of slave who would cry during a spanking – he knew from having watched his Master being whipped at Elaine’s house that day that Skinner’s tolerance for pain was immense – and that the big man didn’t cry easily. He didn’t even intend to bring his slave to that today. He wasn’t sure he wanted to make his slave cry. He wasn’t ready for that responsibility. He loved the red mark on his slave’s flesh though. Suddenly he understood the appeal to Skinner in marking his slave’s buttocks. There was a sense of ownership about it that thrilled him. He ran his hand over the mark, then raised the paddle and brought it down again – even harder. This time the impact mark was even redder, and Skinner struggled to stay in position. Mulder got into the swing of it, and began paddling his slave’s butt in earnest. He was so into the whole event, delivering several cracking swats, that he forgot to check in on his slave. He was too preoccupied with achieving an even pattern on his slave’s buttocks, and making sure that every square inch of that beautiful, taut ass was glowing a shiny red. Mulder was something of a spanking aficionado. It fascinated him, and it had always been his most cherished fantasy. As this was the first spanking he’d given he lost himself in it, giving himself over to the rhythm and sounds, until he became one with the paddle. He only paused when he grew breathless, and, looking up, was startled to see that his slave’s back was stiff and tense. He was still holding position, although he moved forwards a little with every blow, and then quickly righted himself and shuffled back – a little dance that Mulder allowed because it was clearly physically impossible to remain motionless under the forward pressure of the blows his slave was receiving.  

Mulder put the paddle down, pleased to see that he had delivered an extremely thorough spanking and that his slave’s buttocks were now a dark red in color. However, when he returned to the front of his slave, he noted, with a frown, that Skinner had completely lost his erection. Mulder chewed on his lip, anxiously. Spankings always aroused him, but he remembered that his Master had told him that while a good erotic spanking turned him on, he didn’t get any particular pleasure from either the notion or the reality of anything more than a hand spanking or carefully light activity with an implement. Mulder suddenly felt guilty. He knew that he was the Master and Skinner was the slave, and his Bear certainly hadn’t made any complaints…and yet it didn’t seem fair to subject his slave to an activity that he so obviously found completely un-arousing. His Master had given him punishment spankings in the past, as they’d discussed earlier, but if he wasn’t doing it for the purpose of arousing his slave there was usually another, entirely necessary purpose – either to help his slave back into subspace by reminding him of his status, or to give him absolution and closure after he’d made a mistake, or to take him down to where he needed, on some deep and profound level, to be. None of these applied to Skinner in these circumstances. Mulder felt like saying ‘sorry’, because his guilt was as much to do with the fact that he’d enjoyed giving the spanking as anything else. However, he had been getting into the Master’s role and didn’t want to break that by apologizing at this point…and yet his slave did look somewhat forlorn, his shoulders squared as he stood, with his hands behind his head, looking straight ahead for all the world as if he were at boot camp being tormented by a vicious Sergeant Major.

“It’s okay. You can put your hands down now,” Mulder said softly, and then, on an impulse, he reached out, pulled his slave close, enveloped him in his arms and gave him a sweet, loving kiss of apology. He might not feel able to apologize in words, but this was the next best thing. His slave responded hungrily, sliding his powerful arms around his Master and reciprocating the kiss wholeheartedly, clearly accepting Mulder’s non-verbal apology and making his Master feel a whole lot better in the process.

Now Mulder decided that it was time to do something that his slave enjoyed. He cast his mind back to the things Skinner had told him about his sub days, but nothing obvious sprang to mind. Then he remembered that one of the first things Skinner had told him after they signed their contracts was that he was a sensualist. That gave Mulder an idea.

“In a minute I’m going to tie you down,” he told his slave. Skinner nodded, but Mulder saw a tense line of resignation appear on his slave’s forehead. Skinner clenched his fists by his side, clearly steeling himself for an ordeal. “Relax,” Mulder whispered, running his hands over his slave’s body, stroking, soothing and calming him. “You have to trust me. This is going to be good. I promise.” He realized, a little guiltily, that he was enjoying his slave’s fear, and equally that he enjoyed reassuring him as well. It felt good. It felt powerful.

“Before we begin though…” Mulder glanced down at his sweats. “I need to change.” He recalled that when Skinner put on a scene for him in the Playroom, he often dressed up so that his slave would have something good to look at while he was being slowly and deliciously tormented. It helped set the scene. Mulder had been so intent on seeing Skinner dressed up in his harness, that he’d forgotten that his slave also deserved some visual stimulation.

Mulder went back over to the closet where the fantasy dressing up clothes were kept and glanced inside. The trouble was that most of the obviously ‘Master’ clothes belonged to Skinner and wouldn’t fit him. Mulder pulled a couple of outfits out, held them against himself, and then put them away again despondently. They were all far too long in the leg, and too broad in the chest. He’d look like a kid dressing up.

“Master, if I could suggest something,” his slave said quietly. Looking down, Mulder saw that Skinner was kneeling silently beside him. He smiled down on his slave affectionately.

“Of course, Bear.” He nodded.

“There are some other clothes…clothes that belonged to my former Master,” Skinner said softly. Mulder felt his breath catch in his throat. Andrew…Skinner was offering him Andrew’s clothes? He was aware of the honor implicit in that gesture.

“Are you sure, Bear?” He asked, reaching out to caress his slave’s scalp.

“Yes, Master. You’re a little taller than Andrew was, but you’re of much the same build. He was slender like you. I think they would fit you. I keep them over here.”

“Do you think he’d mind?” Mulder asked anxiously, following his slave to a closet that was very rarely ever opened.

“Andrew?” Skinner’s face was alight with fond memories. “No. In fact I think he’d be pleased. He was the only other person I ever subbed for – he’d think it was fitting that my new Master wore his clothes. I suspect he’s hanging around here somewhere watching anyway.” He gave a wistful little smile, and Mulder glanced over his shoulder, thinking privately that from his own experiences on the X Files he’d have said it was all too likely. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Skinner opened the closet, and drew out a pair of black leather trousers, and a chain mail vest.

“I think these would suit you, Master,” he said.

Mulder nodded. “All right. Dress me, Bear.” He stood with his arms outstretched, allowing his slave to remove his sweats, and then to lovingly dress him in the clothes. Skinner was right – they fit him perfectly. In fact, they fit so perfectly that it was eerie. Even the belt did up at the exact same worn notch where Andrew had clearly fastened it. Mulder looked at himself in the mirror, feeling a strange sensation as he gazed at the man wearing these clothes. It was almost as if Andrew’s spirit had settled into him the moment he put them on.

“Master looks…hot.” Skinner grinned up at him from his kneeling position.

“Thank you, Bear.” Mulder glanced over his shoulder, delighted with the way the pants hugged his ass. Usually when he wore leather he only got to wear cutaway pants that left his bare backside exposed and available for correction. It felt good to be wearing the Master’s pants for once. “All right.” He drew himself up to his full height, reveling in the way he looked, and the feel of the leather against his skin. A sudden confidence swept through him, and he put all the mistakes of the day behind him. His time as a Master had come.

“Okay, slave. It’s time that you were tied,” he said firmly. “I want you helpless so that you can’t escape my caresses.” He glanced at his slave, and saw that there was a guarded expression in the other man’s eyes. Skinner really did have an apprehension about bondage – surprising that a man who knew how to perform it on his slave so exquisitely should have such a real anxiety about experiencing it himself. Mulder gazed at himself in the mirror, wondering how Andrew had tackled his slave’s limits in this area. Limits…he recalled the first time his Master had given him a Playroom session. Skinner hadn’t known his limits then either, so he’d ordered his slave to bring him two implements of his choice. Looking back, Mulder could see what a clever strategy this had been. By making Mulder choose, his Master had gained a valuable insight into his slave’s psyche and the kinds of activities he might enjoy, while still remaining in charge.

“I’m going to tie you, but it’s up to you to choose how tightly, and with what bonds,” he told his slave. Skinner looked up, with an expression of total surprise on his face. Maybe he hadn’t expected Mulder to have such a sophisticated understanding of his needs. “You don’t have to be completely immobile, Bear,” Mulder said, caressing the side of his slave’s face. “Just tied in one place. And I want access to all parts of your body. Tell me which method of bondage would suit you best.”

“The sling, Master,” Skinner told him. “It’s suspended – so you’ll have access to me, and I prefer not to be tied across my midriff. Wrists and ankles are usually fine. I don’t like…if it pleases you Master, I don’t like sensory deprivation. If I’m going to be tied then I like to be able to see and hear, even if I can’t move…but of course if you wanted to remove all my senses except touch, then I would do my best to endure that for you, Master.”

“No. That won’t be necessary. What I have in mind requires only that you’re tied. Prepare the sling for me, and show me how you like to be tied.” His slave went ahead eagerly, and gave Mulder a demonstration of how to fasten him into the sling so that his body was supported, and safe. Mulder gave himself a mental congratulation for having figured out a way to use apparatus he wasn’t familiar with, without losing his Master authority. He was a quick learner, and he easily mastered the intricacies of the sling, and before long his slave was in place – naked, tied, and available. Mulder removed the bottom half of his slave’s harness to give him access to his slave’s asshole and unclipped the steel cock ring as well – but not the leather Gates of Hell cock and ball harness. Soon Skinner was on his back, spread-eagled, his legs stretched wide open and elevated slightly, revealing not only his bound cock and balls, but also his ass. He was also, Mulder noticed, trembling slightly.

“All right, Bear?” He placed a hand on his slave’s arm.

Skinner nodded. “It’s been awhile, Master, that’s all. I usually enjoyed the sling…I just forgot how I feel being restrained this tightly. It takes me a few minutes to become accustomed to it. It always did. Andrew was kind enough to allow me some adjustment time.”

“And I will too. Breathe.” Mulder stroked his slave’s torso, and played with Skinner’s nipples for a long time, until the other man’s breathing slowed, and became deeper, and the tension left his muscles. “All right, slave. Your Master wants to play with you.” Mulder smiled down on his slave. “You can make any sounds you like, but you must accept everything I do. It won’t do you much good to struggle anyway. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Skinner nodded. His dark eyes were intense, as if he was concentrating very hard. This was a totally different slave to the confident, attentive one Mulder had seen earlier that morning. He was, Mulder noted to his own satisfaction, much less sure of himself in this situation, however much he tried to hide that fact beneath his usual stoic demeanor.

“I want you to keep your eyes closed,” Mulder ordered. “I’m not going to blindfold you, as I know you’re not comfortable with that when you’re in bondage, but I will punish you if you open your eyes.”

“Yes, Master.” Skinner nodded, and closed his eyes as ordered.

Mulder went over to the cupboard, removed some items, and placed them on the table. Then he dragged the table close to the sling so that he would have them close to hand. He then went to the en-suite bathroom and retrieved the items he had placed there earlier. He kept the door to the Playroom open the whole time. His Master had always told him he would never leave his slave alone when he was in bondage, and now that he was in charge he could see how vital that was. If he wasn’t nearby then he wouldn’t be able to see if his slave was in any distress. Mulder returned to the table and put the new items with the others. He considered the array of toys for a moment, and then selected one, with a smile. It was a furry mitten, as soft as Wanda’s coat.

“Keep your eyes closed, Bear,” he reminded his slave. He stopped by the sling, and just enjoyed looking at his naked, bound, exposed slave for a while. Skinner definitely looked hot in bondage. Mulder remembered a photograph of Skinner that Elaine had once shown him. His Master had been dressed submissively, kneeling at Andrew’s side. He’d thought then that the big guy made an impressive looking slave and he was right. There was something about the juxtaposition of a big, powerful man in such a submissive, vulnerable position that was incredibly erotic. Mulder’s cock twitched inside his pants and he longed for release – but that would have to wait. First he wanted to play. He had never had Skinner at his mercy like this before, had never been able to just enjoy himself, and do what he liked. Now that he had the opportunity he was going to make it last for as long as possible. 

He positioned himself between Skinner’s open legs, and stroked him with the mitten. His slave jumped when he first touched him, but then relaxed. His cock, which had been dormant since the spanking, started to look a little more interested in the proceedings. Mulder smiled – so, Skinner was right – he was a sensualist.

“Does this feel good?” He asked.

Skinner smiled, dreamily. “Yes, Master. Very good,” he murmured. “Thank you, Master.”

Mulder laughed. “Oh don’t thank me. I’m just pleasing myself. Do you have any idea how good you look like this? Naked, vulnerable…exposed…” he trailed the mitten along Skinner’s inner thigh and the other man gave a little squawk of surprise, mingled with pleasure. “Very exposed. Very open. I can do what I like to you.” Mulder dipped his finger in a bowl on the table, and then trailed it around the sensitive opening of Skinner’s asshole. His slave jumped, his abdominal muscles twitching.

“It’s cold, I know. Can you guess what it is?” Mulder asked.

“No, Master.” Skinner frowned, shaking his head.

“It’s cream.” Mulder moved his head suddenly, and darted his tongue into the cleft between his slave’s buttocks. Skinner bucked in his bonds. “Warm and cold,” Mulder murmured, circling Skinner’s anus with his tongue, licking away the cold cream. “You taste good, Bear,” he said, still stroking his slave’s groin with the mitten, while licking his ass muscle, darting his tongue occasionally through the tight ring and into his slave’s ass. Skinner sighed, and Mulder opened his slave’s legs up even further to get better access. “It’s been a while since breakfast, and I’m a little peckish, so I’m going to have a little feast,” he said. “My slave, and my favorite foods…what could make a nicer meal?” And so saying he swirled a dollop of the cold cream on each of his slave’s nipples. Skinner gave a gasp and struggled momentarily in his bonds, but soon surrendered when Mulder’s tongue lapped away the cream, sucking noisily as he did so. “Hmmm. Very nice. And now I think it’s time to mark you.” He watched his slave’s eyes fly open in surprise at that comment, and tapped Skinner’s buttocks reprovingly. “Closed, Bear. Or I’ll have to punish you.” His slave closed his eyes with the very slightest hint of a sigh.

Mulder grinned and picked up the tube of chocolate sauce he had purloined from the kitchen cupboard. Then he squeezed the dark contents onto his slave’s chest, spelling out his own name, F-O-X in big, wavy letters.

“You can open your eyes just to view your marking before I eat it!” Mulder told his slave, and Skinner did as he had been told, cautiously glancing down at his chest. He laughed out loud at what he saw.

“It’s a good thing Master doesn’t have a longer name,” he commented, gazing pointedly at the way the ‘x’ dived off down the side of his ribcage where Mulder had run out of space.

“Close your eyes again,” Mulder ordered, and then he bent his head and noisily licked the chocolate sauce away, enjoying the way his slave’s abdominal muscles tightened a little as he did so. “Ticklish are we, slave?” He inquired.

“A little, Master,” Skinner admitted.

Mulder grinned – that was something he hadn’t known about his Master in all the time he’d been with him, but then Skinner have never given him permission to touch his abdomen like this before. Mulder finished lapping up the chocolate and bestowed a chocolaty kiss on his slave’s mouth, before standing up straight and moving in the direction of his slave’s ass.

“That was very nice…but you know what, slave…I think I want to eat something a little more healthy.” He grinned as he picked up the carrot he had peeled earlier, and smothered it in a layer of cream. Then he positioned himself between his slave’s thighs again, and gently teased his slave’s opening with it. It went in easily – it wasn’t a particularly large carrot – and Mulder purposefully left a few inches sticking out. Then he began to eat, nibbling on the exposed portion of the carrot, his lips caressing his slave’s buttocks and the underside of his balls as he chewed. He ate it a little way, pulling it with his teeth as he did so, in order to tease the carrot out of its position. He wasn’t sure what this felt like to Skinner but he sure as hell was enjoying it, and, judging by the grin on his slave’s face, he didn’t have any objections either.

“All right, Bear. You’ve been very good so here’s a little reward.” Mulder went around to his slave’s head, and, dipping his fingers in the cream again, placed them in his slave’s mouth. Skinner sucked on them greedily, and Mulder laughed and kissed his slave’s head. This was good! He was having so much fun! “Time to make it count now, slave,” he whispered, picking up a feather from the table. He floated it gently over his slave’s body, tickling him, and Skinner gave a deep moan and twisted and bucked in his bonds, trying to escape the evil, tormenting sensation. Mulder laughed. With his eyes closed Skinner had no idea where the feather would tickle next, and it was fun to watch him writhe beneath it. His slave was laughing as much as his Master, and panting as he twisted and turned, to and fro.

Mulder changed tactics, and turned the feather around, then scratched the spiky end of it along his Master’s torso. He liked the thin red mark it made, and he played with it for a while, trailing it quite hard over his Master’s flesh. He fetched up at Skinner’s cock, and prodded him there a few times, scratching the sensitive flesh. Skinner bucked again, and gave a hoarse shout, which just encouraged Mulder to keep going. He tormented his slave’s cock for several minutes, and then transferred his attentions higher up on his slave’s body, pressing the end of the feather into Skinner’s nipple without warning. Skinner bellowed, and strained in his bonds. The end of the feather was sharp, and made a little dent for a few seconds, and Mulder guessed that the sensation was uncomfortable, but not too desperately painful. He did this a few times, loving the way his slave’s body jack-knifed each time. Then he put the feather aside, and used the mitten again, to calm his jittery slave. Skinner was dripping with a fine layer of sweat after this, and Mulder blew over him, cooling him. His slave relaxed in his bonds, and laughed out loud when Mulder blew in his ear.

“Ah, you like that huh?” Mulder lingered there, blowing, and then sucking, before nibbling with more intent. Skinner moaned and started thrashing around. “I think we’ve found an erogenous zone!” Mulder proclaimed triumphantly. He worked the other ear for a while, then trailed down to his slave’s neck and sucked there. “I think that I want my slave to bear my hickey,” he said, holding Skinner in place and giving the man’s neck area his full attention. With his free hand, he played with the nipple closest to him, alternately fondling it and pinching it. Each time he pinched it, Skinner rose up in his bonds, and each time he released it, and soothed it gently instead, the man fell back again. It was the most amazing feeling to have this much power over this powerful man. Mulder could feel his cock throbbing in appreciation.

He finally relinquished his hold on Skinner’s neck, and trailed his lips down over his slave’s bound cock, taking it whole into his mouth, leather harness and all. Skinner gave a moan, as Mulder expertly tongued him. Mulder knew that he was being a little mean – as Skinner’s cock hardened and swelled even more, it dug into the leather straps that were fastened tightly around it. That had to hurt…and also stimulate and tease. Mulder grinned.

“You can’t come, Bear,” he murmured.

“No, Master,” Skinner growled.

“Ah, that’s my grizzly bear. He wants to come and he can’t. Keep hard for me now, Bear. I want to see this cock standing proud for me. I like seeing it like this, hard, trapped, and straining at the leash. If you strain hard enough I might release your cock and let you come, but not before your Master comes, slave.”

Mulder eased the carrot out of his slave’s anus, and, after dipping his hand in oil, inserted a finger instead. Just one, and then two. Skinner started to moan, his cock harder than ever, desperate to be released. Mulder teased his slave for several minutes and then withdrew his fingers and went to stand beside his slave’s face again. He opened his pants, and his own swollen cock sprang forward. He nudged it against his slave’s lips. “Suck me, Bear. I want to be hard as rock when I fuck your ass,” he whispered in a low, promising tone. Skinner opened his mouth immediately, and sucked Mulder’s cock eagerly, greedily, until Mulder was on the verge of coming.

“Uh-uh. Not yet. Your ass gets to receive my come. Not your mouth,” Mulder chided, withdrawing his cock, and loving the little moan of loss that emerged from his slave’s throat. He returned to his position between his slave’s thighs, and, on a whim, coated his cock in cream. Then he parted his slave’s buttocks and slid the tip of his cream-covered cock easily inside. “You should see the way this looks,” he murmured to his slave. “I’m creaming you, slave.” His slave gave what sounded like a distinct snort, making Mulder laugh out loud – but he delivered a little slap to his slave’s bound cock to punish him for his disrespect all the same. Then he took hold of his slave’s ass and sank his cock deep inside. Skinner gave a little shout, and tried to open his legs wider, to give his Master better access. Mulder paused, panting for breath, and a strange sensation swept through him. He felt almost as if he was looking down on his slave from outside his own body. This moment was so perfect, and so beautiful. They were joined, Master and slave, in a new, totally unique way to any they had ever experienced before, and it was so good. He had given Skinner anal sex before, but on that occasion it had been as a slave, giving service. This was different. This time he was the Master and his slave’s ass was his to take, his to enter, his to pound into as hard or as slowly as he liked. He noticed, with some pride, that his slave’s penis was still rock hard – harder than ever in fact. He hadn’t realized how satisfying it could be to bring a slave to the brink of such divine pleasure and keep him there for so long. And Skinner’s achievement in staying hard for his Master wasn’t lost on him. He felt proud – and that was another emotion he hadn’t expected.

Then the strange sensation was gone, and Mulder felt himself return to the moment. He ran his hands over his slave’s body, caressing him, slowly pulled his hips back, and then thrust them back again. His cock slid to and fro with an easy movement, and now he remembered how good it felt to be giving anal sex rather than just receiving it. He loved both, but he had only experienced this once before, and he’d been so intent on serving his Master on that occasion that he hadn’t noticed the myriad of small details that he noticed now. He saw that Skinner’s head was flung back, and his adam’s apple was exposed, and bobbing, and he saw a droplet of sweat roll down his slave’s face, and drip onto the floor. He could feel his slave’s internal muscles, working his Master’s cock for all they were worth, and noted the way his slave’s cock bobbed in time to the play of those muscles. Even in his bondage, utterly at his Master’s mercy, his slave was trying to serve him as best he could. Mulder smiled, and got into a rhythm, his pace more urgent. He hoped he was brushing his slave’s prostate, and guessed that he was by the way Skinner was making the strangest mewling sounds in the back of his throat, and then Mulder was coming, deep in his slave’s ass, and there were so many stars exploding behind his eyes that he had to hold onto the sling to stay upright. He came to rest, still buried to the root in his slave, and just as his own climax reached its peak he removed his slave’s cock harness, releasing his swollen cock. “You can come, slave,” he panted, fastening his hand around Skinner’s hard penis, and he was astounded when his slave did just that, almost immediately, and then lay moaning in his bonds.

They were silent and still for a while, both lost in the moment. Mulder slowly withdrew, laughing as a puddle of warm cream mingled with his own come, pooled out of his slave’s ass.

“How are you?” He grabbed a towel from the table, and cleaned up his own cock, and then wiped his slave clean. “You can open your eyes if you want. Or stay there for a bit longer if you’d prefer.” Mulder knew from experience how bone melting the aftermath of such a vigorous orgasm could be.

“I’m fine.” Skinner opened his eyes slowly, and Mulder looked down into those dark orbs, and saw that they were utterly sated. “Thank you, Master,” Skinner whispered.

“You’re welcome, slave,” Mulder replied, and then he bent forward and kissed his slave soundly. “You’re very, very welcome,” he murmured when he released his slave. He was surprised by the fierce wave of love that was coursing through him. He had never felt more protective of the other man than at this moment. Skinner had given himself up so completely to his Master’s will, had opened his body, and given his soul to Mulder, in a stunning display of trust. It was the most amazing sensation. Mulder gazed down at his slave, utterly winded by it.

“It’s hit you, hasn’t it?” Skinner asked gently. “That feeling. I call it the Top’s High.”

“It’s incredible. I feel so powerful…it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” Mulder took a deep breath. “I feel like I want to be so caring…after you’ve given yourself up to me, taken everything I handed out, and there’s a weird sense of pride as well…it’s the most curious sensation.” He stared at his slave in wonderment, and Skinner laughed, and then winced. “I guess those cuffs are cutting in. Hold still.” Mulder gently released his slave, and then lowered him to the floor.

“And that,” he murmured, crouching beside his utterly jellified slave, “is what we call the sub’s state of boneless bliss, Bear.” He grinned, putting his hands under his slave’s arms, and dragging him to his feet. They staggered together to the en-suite bathroom, where Mulder undressed them both, then pushed his unsteady slave under the shower and joined him there.

He had taken many showers with his Master, but this was different, and he intended to enjoy the change to the utmost. His slave, although still reeling slightly from the aftermath of his Master’s attentions, was as attentive as ever. He reached for the soap, and lathered it, then asked permission to place his hands on his Master’s body. Mulder grinned, leaned back against the wall of the shower, and opened his arms wide.

“Be my guest, Bear.” He closed his eyes, and allowed the water, and his slave, to clean him up. Skinner was as thorough as he had come to expect, and he lovingly washed his Master’s body, kneeling to run his hands over Mulder’s ankles and feet, and stopping there to kiss his Master’s toes while he was at it. Mulder grinned, as he looked down on this big, powerful man, who was serving him. Damn but this felt good! When Skinner had finished, Mulder handed him the soap.

“Now wash yourself, slave. I want to watch,” and so saying he settled back against the wall again, and treated himself to the joy of being able to feast his eyes on his slave’s naked, wet body. Skinner’s big hands slapped lather all over his own tanned skin, pausing here or there when he found a mark Mulder had made on his body to examine it. Mulder sighed happily – Skinner’s flesh bore many of his marks and he was surprised how arousing it was knowing that he had made them. There were occasional bite marks, the faint lines from where he had etched with his feather, the rising hickey on his slave’s neck, and, he noted with a little twinge of guilty pleasure, his slave’s butt was still glowing a healthy red from the spanking he had delivered. Mulder loved the way his slave’s wet chest hair was flattened against his skin…he so rarely had a chance to just watch his Master in the shower – usually he was too busy washing him, and if his services weren’t required in that capacity then Skinner usually sent him away and showered alone. Now he could enjoy his warm, wet, naked slave to his heart’s content. He reached out, grabbed his slave, and pushed him bodily against the wall. Skinner braced his hands on the tiled surface, and Mulder stepped in close, and pushed the other man’s legs apart.

“I think I should inspect my slave…make sure he’s cleaned himself thoroughly,” he purred in Skinner’s ear. His slave obligingly pushed his ass out, and Mulder ran his hands over those glowing globes and fondled them affectionately. His slave made a little noise, and Mulder guessed that his ass was still sore, but he was enjoying his play, and he didn’t think a little discomfort would harm his slave. He slipped a finger inside his slave’s ass, and, at the same time, slid his arm around the front of his slave’s neck, pulling the other man’s head back so that it rested on his shoulder. He licked the droplets of warm water that were soaking his slave’s neck, and then sank his teeth lightly into the other man’s back. Skinner’s flesh tasted so good – warm, clean, and wet. Mulder didn’t bite down hard, just enough to enjoy the sensation of having his finger in his slave’s ass, his arm around his slave’s neck, and his mouth fastened to his slave’s skin, keeping the other man utterly immobilized and at his mercy. Skinner was completely still under this attack, his arms braced, his legs trembling slightly from the position he was in. Mulder liked the way his slave felt, naked, wet and muscular beneath him. He changed his bite into a kiss, removed his finger, soothed his slave’s body with his hand, and then parted his slave’s butt cheeks again and inserted two fingers this time. His mouth roved freely over the back of his slave’s neck and his scalp, and Skinner started to pant. Looking down, over his slave’s shoulder, Mulder saw that the big man was starting to harden again – which was impressive considering how recently he’d just come.

“That’s good, Bear,” he whispered. “Your Master likes to know he can turn you on, and he likes seeing proof of it. Keep that cock hard, and I’ll reward you later.”

“Reward me how, Master?” Skinner asked. Mulder laughed, and twisted his fingers inside his slave a little – just enough to make his displeasure felt. Skinner gasped.

“That’s for me to know, Bear, not you,” Mulder reprimanded.

“Yes, Master. Sorry, Master. I just wondered what was at stake,” Skinner said a little cheekily. Mulder laughed and slapped his slave’s butt. His slave dropped his head and kissed his Master’s arm, where it was fastened around his neck.

“All right, slave. I think we’re done here. Dry me, and then yourself. I have plans for the rest of the day.”

Mulder turned off the shower, and allowed his slave to dry him. Then he strode back into the Playroom and opened the closet. He knew what he planned to do, and he knew it was impulsive, but there was something he just had to try. It wasn’t enough to know that he was the Master here, in this room, with all these toys around, and with a highly experienced and exquisitely trained slave who was giving him this day as a gift. No, he needed to find out if he could pass as a Master out there, in the Real World.

He sorted through the clothes, looking for some that his slave could wear out in public. The only problem was that his own clothing was too tight for Skinner, and the only clothes that fitted his slave were those he usually wore when he was the Master.

“Is there a problem, Master?” Skinner asked, from his usual position at his Master’s feet. Mulder noted, with some satisfaction, that his slave was holding a fairly respectable erection, as ordered.

“No…it’s just…I want to dress you, Bear. We’re going out.” He watched his slave for some kind of reaction but Skinner’s expression was serene – he merely nodded, accepting his Master’s decision without question. “I want some clothes for you that don’t shriek ‘Master’, although…” Mulder looked down on his slave, and sighed, despondently. “To be honest, I think you could go out naked on the end of a chain, with a sign around your neck saying ‘slave’ and people still wouldn’t be fooled. You just don’t look like a slave. You look like a Master.”

“With all due respect, Master – that’s not necessarily true,” Skinner said. Mulder raised an eyebrow, prompting his slave to continue with a nod of his head. “It’s true that clothing can help people get into the right mindset, but it’s also the case that you can signal what you are by your body language and the way you behave – by what you’re feeling and thinking. If Master wanted to take me out, he could rest assured that I would be his slave absolutely, in body, mind and spirit.”

“All right. Let’s try these then.” Mulder handed his slave a pair of sleek, black leather pants, and a black, sleeveless tee shirt. “You keep the wrist cuffs and collar on,” he said, although he was aware that they just looked like fetish items and didn’t necessarily proclaim Skinner as a slave. Skinner dressed quickly, and then stood, waiting for his Master’s approval. Mulder gestured to his slave to circle, and then sighed again. “I’m not convinced about this, Bear. You certainly look good, but…” He shrugged. “Okay. I think it’s the best we can do. I can’t dress you more provocatively because we’ll be dining out later…so, that will have to do for now. One thing, Bear.” He unzipped his slave’s pants, and took hold of his cock. “This stays hard for me. Understood?”

“I’ll do my best, Master.” Skinner nodded.

“Just to help you along…” Mulder gave a sweetly evil smile, and fastened a leather cock ring around his slave’s thick penis. “This only comes off when I take it off – and that’s the only time you’ll be allowed to come. No jacking off in the men’s room.” He zipped up his slave’s pants, noting that his slave’s erection bulged enticingly and a little painfully against the shiny fabric, and then gave Skinner the address of a leather bar. His slave looked at him in surprise.

“I’m to go alone, Master? Now?” he asked.

“Yes. Sit at the bar and order yourself a drink. I’ll join you in a little while. I have some plans to make first.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And slave.” Mulder reached for his slave’s glasses, and replaced them on his slave’s face. “I wouldn’t want you to walk into anything!” Mulder said, caressing the side of his face.

Skinner nodded and smiled, and then knelt, and briefly touched his mouth to each of Mulder’s feet, before getting up and walking to the door of the Playroom.

“One more thing, slave,” Mulder called out.

Skinner stopped, and turned, blinking behind the wirerims. “Master?”

“It’s cold out. You can take a jacket. And…uh…I’m not sure anyone would dare come on to you, but if they do – remember you belong to me.”

“Yes, Master.” Skinner gave a small grin and Mulder could see that he remembered his own instructions to Mulder a few of weeks previously when he’d sent him out to Beelzebub, a well known gay pick-up joint. Tonight’s little excursion would be different though – in more ways than the obvious. For a start, they’d be at a leather bar, used to the Master/slave dynamic, and not just a gay bar. An unaccompanied slave or a particularly attractive Master would be likely to get some attention…and, Mulder thought with a sigh, as he watched his Master’s tall, burly, utterly macho frame exit the Playroom, Skinner came into the latter category, not the former. He couldn’t believe anyone, looking at his slave tonight, would think Skinner was a sub. The other man was just too confident, too sure of himself and his strength. He oozed power and authority.

Mulder turned his attention back to the closet containing Andrew’s clothes. While he didn’t for a moment think that Skinner would be mistaken for a sub, he also wasn’t sure that he could ever pass for a top. He pulled out some clothes, examined them, and sighed. Andrew didn’t seem to go in for outfits that yelled ‘MASTER’. Instead, all his clothing was very plain and tailored. His own Master had similarly discreet clothing. Was Skinner right? Was it all down to attitude?

“Okay, Andrew, help me out,” he said to the empty room. “Walter seems to think you’ve been with us in spirit if not in body today. And as you’re the only person other than me who has ever topped the big guy, then maybe he’s right. You’re sure as hell a tough act to follow.” Mulder’s fingers searched urgently through the clothing as he spoke. “So, if you are around, and I kind of think that maybe you are, but then I’m a spooky kind of guy as we all know, so, if you’re here, I could really do with some help right now.”
His fingers chose that moment to hit upon a black silk shirt. He drew it out and examined it. “Very tasteful, Andrew. So, you think I should wear this, huh?” He slipped his arms into the shirt, and buttoned it up, then went back into the closet for a pair of pants. He found some black chinos that fitted him perfectly, and a tailored black jacket to complete the ensemble. He ran along the corridor to his old bedroom, where he kept his clothes, grabbed a pair of his own black shoes and socks, quickly put them on, dashed some gel into his hair, and then sauntered back to the Playroom to take a look at himself…and stopped dead as he caught sight of his reflection. For just a moment, he could have sworn that instead of his own dark hair, and hazel eyes, he caught a flash of silver hair, and piercing blue eyes, a smaller nose, and a quietly smiling mouth – and then it was gone.

“Andrew, I always knew you and I shared the same sense of humor.” Mulder grinned at himself in the mirror, smoothing the gel into his hair until it looked very sleek. He didn’t feel in the slightest bit spooked by his experience – in fact, he felt good about it. He felt as if Andrew approved. He regarded himself in the mirror for a long time. The clothes suited his lean, athletic frame. He looked tastefully dressed – very understated, but these were Andrew’s clothes, and Andrew had been a legendary top. He hadn’t been tall or built like Skinner, he had just been an ordinary-looking guy, who imposed his authority on people by force of personality alone. That was a skill that Mulder had to discover within himself…and wearing Andrew’s clothes next to his skin was a good place to start.

“Stay with me, buddy,” he said to the room. “I could use your help on this.”

Mulder made a telephone call to book a table for dinner, and then grabbed his wallet and keys and strolled out of the apartment. He got a cab to the leather bar, and paused outside for a few minutes. He closed his eyes, and immediately had a mental image of Andrew Linker putting his arm around his shoulder. That was when he felt ready. He pushed open the door to the bar, and paused on the threshold. It was noisy inside – it was early evening, and the place was starting to fill up. It wasn’t heaving as it would be later, but there was a respectable crowd inside. Most of them were wearing leather – and he was not – but that didn’t matter. Mulder had purposefully chosen this place as it was unlikely that there would be anyone here who knew them. He had only been to this place once before, long before he had met Skinner, and it wasn’t part of the main BDSM scene in DC. Mulder stood there, scanning the bar for a long time. He was standing as tall as he knew how, his shoulders back, meeting the eye of anyone who looked at him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Skinner, sitting by the bar, nursing a drink. The other man looked as if he was trapped in a little bubble of subspace. He had that same serene expression he had worn for most of the day. His eyes were gentle, and bereft of any challenge. He didn’t seem to be taking up the large amount of space he usually occupied. He looked, Mulder thought, content. He wasn’t wary, or watchful. He just seemed lost in his own thoughts. Mulder waited a little longer, noted how a guy tried to chat up his slave, and how Skinner shook his head, and returned to his drink, barely making eye contact with the man who was interested in him. Mulder wasn’t entirely sure that Skinner would, even acting so mildly, pass as a sub, but it was certainly interesting watching his erstwhile Master occupy subspace, even if only for a short period of time.

Mulder suddenly became aware that he wasn’t the only one watching. His stance by the doorway had attracted attention and several pairs of eyes were scrutinizing him. He was uncomfortable with that at first, not wanting to attract any kind of trouble, but then he relaxed. It was almost as if Andrew had whispered something in his ear. You don’t need to posture, you just need to be confident, and masterful. He stayed where he was, carried on looking for a few more minutes, utterly comfortable inside his own skin, and then started walking down to the bar area. The eyes followed him. He was aware that he was now the object of several watchful gazes, but that didn’t bother him. He was surprised to find that the throng parted as he walked through them. No stray hands reached out to fondle his ass but a few boys inclined their heads towards him, slightly longing expressions on their faces. Mulder caught the eye of a butch man in leather, who had a huge moustache, and a prominent nose. They stared at each other for a moment. Mulder kept his gaze steady, but devoid of challenge – or interest. The other man studied him for a long time, and then broke into a smile, and nodded his head at Mulder, dom to dom. Mulder nodded back, feeling a sensation of power course through his veins. Someone nudged his hand, and, looking around, he saw a slim man, at least ten years younger than himself, standing there.

“Hello, sir. I saw you come in. Could I buy you a drink, sir?” The man asked politely. Mulder almost keeled over at being addressed as ‘sir’, and was sure he heard Andrew’s amused chortle at his surprise.

“No. Thank you, boy. My slave will take care of that,” he said in his low, soft, Master’s tones. The young man looked around, startled.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you were with anyone. Did you…uh…if you needed someone else to serve you as well, sir…I’d be very willing.”

It was all Mulder could do to stop laughing out loud. Instead he just smiled and shook his head. “No. I have my hands full with the slave I have, thank you. He’s more than enough,” he chuckled, aware that he was borrowing his Master’s own words about him. The young man looked disappointed, and backed away.

Mulder stepped out into the middle of the room, and that was when it happened. Just as he turned, to try and locate his slave, he was aware of the room clearing around him. Someone was standing in front of him, and then kneeling. Looking down, he saw his slave’s powerful shoulders, bunched up as he knelt down, at his Master’s feet – in front of the entire bar. The world seemed to slow down, and come to a halt, and it was a moment Mulder would never forget in his entire life. His slave placed a drink on the floor, and kissed Mulder’s shoes. Then he looked up, his eyes full of devotion.

“I’m sorry, Master. I saw you come in and ordered a drink for you – that was why I didn’t greet you sooner,” Skinner said softly.

“That’s all right, Bear.” Mulder smiled, and his slave stood, and handed him the drink.

“Would Master like to stand or should I bring him a chair?” His slave asked. “There’s a free table over there if Master would prefer.”

“There’s only one chair,” Mulder pointed out.

His slave shrugged. “I don’t require a chair. I will kneel of course, Master,” he said.

Mulder felt as if he was walking on water as his slave preceded him over to the table, clearing a path for his Master like the President’s secret service bodyguard. His slave pulled out his chair for him, waited until he sat, and then knelt beside his Master, with his head down. The men in the room shot them several approving glances. Mulder noted the envy of some of the tops at his perfectly behaved, exquisitely mannered, and utterly devoted slave, and he felt a surge of pride. His slave’s behavior reflected on him. He had known that while a slave himself, but somehow had failed to realize just how heady this sensation of pride was, and he was determined that when he was a slave again he’d do his utmost to make sure that his own behavior would bring his Master nothing but credit. He lowered his hand and caressed his slave’s smooth head as a reward, and his slave leaned into the caress. Mulder’s pride in his slave was also combined with a protective sense of jealousy as he saw the looks on the other men’s faces. He felt sure he would fight to the death for this prized slave and he suddenly understood Skinner’s fierce jealousy towards him. He sat back in his chair, legs open, and shoulders back, utterly relaxed, and took a sip of his drink. The young man who had approached him earlier sidled by.

“Master must be very strong to have tamed such a slave,” the man whispered, in an awe- struck tone, gazing down at Skinner.

“Oh, I didn’t…” Mulder began, feeling unable to accept the credit for Skinner’s training, but his slave looked up.

“My Master commands only my very best attention. There isn’t another man alive I would give it to,” Skinner said, interrupting him. Mulder couldn’t help smiling. He could forgive the interruption when the message was so loud and clear. He might not have trained this slave, but Skinner would perform like this only for him. Nobody else would ever command this man kneeling beside him now. That knowledge made him glow inside. Skinner deemed him a worthy Master, someone he would go down on bended knee for – and there was nobody else in this world who could say the same thing.

“I can see what you mean about having your hands full,” the young man commented, casting a last, regretful look at Mulder before moving on. Mulder grinned and then turned his attention back to his slave.

“You interrupted me, Bear,” he said softly. “Do you want me to punish you?”

“Here, Master?” Skinner swallowed hard, looking around the busy bar. Play wasn’t unusual in this kind of place, but nobody else was playing right now. They’d be very conspicuous. “I’m sorry, Master. I shouldn’t have interrupted you. Punish me if you wish, Master.” Skinner bowed his head and waited, perfectly still, awaiting his Master’s judgment.

“I don’t want to punish you.” Mulder lifted his slave’s chin so that he could look into the other man’s eyes. Then, without warning, he bent his head and kissed Skinner on the lips, hard, and forcefully, making his point clearly to the whole bar. He opened his slave’s mouth with his own, and plundered it with his tongue. His slave gasped for breath, and surrendered to the kiss completely. “I liked what you said,” Mulder whispered. “Thanks for saying it.”

Skinner smiled and rested his head on his Master’s knee. “My pleasure, Master,” he said, closing his eyes.

They stayed for a couple of hours. Mulder enjoyed showing off his slave – he hadn’t realized what a powerful sense of ownership he would have as a Master with such a strong, attractive slave. The dynamic of a younger man with an older slave was also a little unusual, and he knew he gained kudos just because Skinner was such a big, macho man. People looked at them and judged that Mulder must be a particularly strong Master to have this kind of total control of such an eye-catching well-trained slave. Every now and then, Mulder would pat his slave’s crotch, to ensure that he was still maintaining an erection, and found that Skinner was performing that part of his duties perfectly too. He loved that thought. He had suffered from his Master’s enjoyment of keeping him permanently on edge for his pleasure enough to know how it felt, and to enjoy a little innocent payback.

Finally it was time to go to their dinner reservation. Mulder got up, and his slave followed him, keeping close behind him, walking always to heel.

“Should I hail a cab, Master?” Skinner asked, and Mulder nodded. It felt so good to be waited on like this, and have all his needs taken care of. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to Andrew for the immaculately trained slave that was Walter Sergei Skinner, aka Bear, and property of Fox William Mulder.

Mulder’s slave opened the door to the restaurant for him, and they were shown to the table in a corner, on a little dais, which Mulder had requested specifically. He was handed a menu, but he waved away the Maitre ‘D as the man tried to hand one to Skinner.

“That’s okay. He’ll be eating what I order for him,” he said. Skinner winced slightly, but Mulder enjoyed the moment. Just because his slave was perfect didn’t mean that a display of Masterly authority wasn’t in order every now and again. He studied the menu, and made his choices. He would choose the very finest meal for his slave. There was no question of him ordering something Skinner disliked – but his slave would have no choice in the matter.

“I’ll have the cannelloni, and my companion will have the steak in béarnaise sauce,” he said with a grin at his pun on his slave’s name. He glanced at Skinner who smiled and nodded his thanks to his Master for choosing one of his favorite dishes. They talked for a while. They’d had many intimate dinners together since they had exchanged contracts, but this was different, and Mulder was acutely aware of the responsibility of drawing out his slave, and finding out about him. There were some questions he had not dared ask as a slave that he had no trouble asking as a Master. Skinner was a little more reticent as a slave than he usually was though, and he seemed much shyer than usual. It was endearing to almost entice out the man from behind the persona. Mulder had never felt closer to Andrew Linker than during this meal. He could see what the other man had loved about this particular sub. Skinner was a little hesitant, a little reticent and unsure of himself, and Mulder was suddenly aware of how very much confidence the other man took from his role as Master. He had never realized it before because he had never seen Skinner as anything other than firm, decisive, and in charge, but he was beginning to see that to a certain extent that was a role that his Master hid behind. Without his status as Master to obscure his essential shyness, Skinner was a quieter, less forceful, more watchful personality.

As the meal came to an end, and they lingered over coffee, Mulder glanced around the restaurant. He had chosen this place on purpose because the tablecloths reached down to the floor, and there were dozens of potted plants effectively screening off each set of diners from the view of the others. He slipped off his shoe, and placed his foot on his slave’s crotch. He was pleased to find that the other man’s erection was still there, if a little flagging and he wiggled his toes around to revive it a little, much to his slave’s obvious, squirming embarrassment.

“All right, slave. I require your oral attention,” he said softly. Skinner looked around, a little flash of panic showing behind the wirerims. They’d had sex in public places before, but Skinner always took great care to make sure that discovery was almost an impossibility. Mulder was sure that he had taken the same pains. “The place is nearly empty, and the waiter won’t be coming back for a while. Nobody’s watching. Slide under the table, and bring me off with your mouth and then swallow.” Mulder grinned, watching the subtle play of emotions chase across his slave’s face. Skinner took a deep breath, and there was an edge of Master’s challenge in his eyes. He struggled with it for a moment, and then clearly almost visibly reminded himself that this was his slave’s birthday and he’d made him a promise when undertaking this role, because he nodded, glanced around again to make sure that nobody was watching, then slipped under the table cloth.

Mulder leaned back, and a few seconds later felt hand on his fly. It was unzipped and a warm, skilled mouth took hold of his cock, and expertly tongued it. Mulder smiled, and took a sip of his coffee, making sure that the tablecloth obscured his pants completely, leaving only his top half visible. The thrill of outwardly seeming to be so respectable, while his slave was sucking his cock under the table, made him unable to hold on for long and he was soon coming down his slave’s throat. He tried not to make a noise, gurgling his climax into his coffee cup, and gripping the side of the table hard with his free hand. He felt his softened cock being licked clean, and reached under the table to caress his slave’s ears by way of thank you. A few seconds later his slave reappeared, licking his lips and looking decidedly flushed and flustered. Mulder wanted to laugh. He wished he could have a photograph of this moment so that he could treasure it forever. His Master, the oh-so-proper and correct Assistant Director Skinner of the FBI, had just sucked his cock under the table of a public restaurant. God, he could feel himself going hard all over again as he savored the memory – which was a good thing, as he still had plans for his slave.

Mulder glanced at his watch. It was nearly 11 o’ clock. He only had another hour in which to enjoy his slave and there was one last thing he wanted to do before his day as Master was over. He could still remember the way it had felt to have his Master at his mercy, against the wall of the shower, and he wanted to explore that dynamic a little more. Their love making earlier had been slow, erotic, and utterly enjoyable, but Mulder was a Master and he wanted to experience something harder, rougher, and faster. He was always turned on when his Master took him furiously and fast, and he wanted to know what it felt like the other way around. He also wanted to give his slave his reward, for staying hard for so long without release.

“Well done, Bear,” he said, tucking the credit card receipt for the meal into his wallet. He had put the meal on his own card, which his Master allowed him to keep for personal expenses. It felt good – as if he was the one paying for the meal, when in reality his Master picked up the tab at the end of the day. “Come on. We don’t have much time.” He got up and strode to the door, his slave following. “See you later, Gianni!” He waved at the Maitre ‘D who hurried to open the door for him.

“What’s the rush – do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, Mr. Mulder?” Gianni commented, grinning at him.

“Something like that, yes.” Mulder exchanged an amused glance with his slave.

They arrived back home at eleven forty-five, and Mulder was acutely aware that time was running out. As soon as they walked through the door of the apartment, he bundled his slave up against the wall, and held him there, the other man’s face pressed up against the cool surface.

“I’m going to take you – hard and fast, Bear,” he hissed into his slave’s ear, finding himself turned on by the words alone. His slave grunted, and braced his hands against the wall. “And if you’re good, then you can come when I’m done. I want you.” He stripped his slave of his pants and tee shirt, and ran his hands over the other man’s butt cheeks, finding them still a little hot from his spanking. He pressed a finger into his slave and then grinned, and slapped Skinner’s buttocks fondly. “I see you’ve remembered to keep yourself lubed for me, Bear,” he said.

“Yes, Master. I hoped you’d want to use me again, Master,” his slave replied, opening his legs wide, and moving his butt back so that his Master would have ease of access.

“Your Master does. This ass should get used as much as possible,” Mulder said, releasing his cock from his pants, delighted to find that the role excited him, and he was fully erect once more. He reached around and found that his slave shared that condition with him. “Good slave,” he said, fondling the other man’s hard length. “I’m pleased you kept that for me. You’ll get your reward later…but first, I’m going to pound into you. Ready?” He grabbed his slave’s buttocks and his slave nodded.

“I’m yours, Master. You can use me whenever you wish,” Skinner replied in a deep, throaty growl, clearly anticipating the event with some relish. Mulder grinned, utterly intoxicated by the words. He eased himself into his slave’s ass, and then thrust home with considerable force. His slave grunted, and Mulder took hold of the other man’s hips and began to thrust into him in earnest, back and forth as fast as he could, loving the pressure on his cock of his slave’s warm, internal ass muscles. “Oh shit, you’re good…feels fantastic…” Mulder whispered, caressing his slave’s body as he pounded into him, over and over again. His slave looked beautiful like this, he thought. Skinner’s head was flung back, and his hands were flat against the wall. The back of his neck was enticingly, edibly near. Mulder sucked on it noisily, as he slammed into his slave, and his slave made little mewling noises of pleasure so Mulder guessed he’d found the other man’s prostate. He reached around, and pumped his slave’s rock hard cock. “You can’t come…not yet,” he warned and Skinner nodded, a strangled cry emerging from his throat as he did so.

“Soon…please,” he snarled, his voice thick with arousal.

“As soon as I’m done…hold it…” Mulder said, grinning insanely as he spoke. This was one bit of payback he was definitely enjoying. Then he felt his climax start, and forgot everything else as the moment took him. He came over and over again inside his slave, and then withdrew, as soon as he was done, and roughly turned the other man around. “Time for that reward I promised you,” he grinned, sinking to his knees and taking his slave whole into his mouth. He sucked Skinner for a minute or so, and then reached up and undid the leather cock ring around his slave’s hard penis. His slave gasped, and bucked hard into his Master’s mouth. Mulder released him as he came, and directed the flow onto his slave’s flat stomach. He dipped his fingers in the come, and pressed them to his slave’s lips. “Suck,” he ordered, and his slave obeyed without question, his dark eyes flashing, still aroused.

Mulder stared at the other man stupidly, feeling heady with power. He had done everything – the payback laundry session, a scene in the Playroom, spanking, a shower, showing off in the leather bar, public sex, and now this rough ride, and somewhere, during the course of the day, he had come to do more than just play at the role. He had somehow managed to grasp the essence of it. He didn’t fool himself that he’d ever inhabit the role as easily or as well as his Master did, and he’d made plenty of mistakes, but he’d made the journey and enjoyed it, and he sneakily suspected that his slave had too – and that was the important thing. He gazed at the disheveled man lying in front of him, and Skinner smiled at him, a smile of utter and complete devotion. Mulder smiled back, then collapsed beside his exhausted slave, and hauled him over so that Skinner was resting with his head on his Master’s chest. Mulder wrapped his arms around his slave, and they both watched the clock in the hallway as it ticked slowly towards midnight. 11:58, 11:59. Mulder looked down, and claimed one last kiss from his slave’s lips.

“Goodbye, Bear,” he whispered.

His slave smiled. “Goodbye, Master,” he whispered back.

Mulder closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the clock read 12:00 and he was a slave once more. He glanced down at his Master.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you so much.”

Skinner shook his head.

“Thank you,” he said, disengaging himself from his slave’s arms. “That was a most interesting and enjoyable experience.”

“You made it easy for me.” Mulder shrugged. “Andrew Linker was a very lucky man.”

“And Walter Skinner is an equally lucky man.” Skinner stood up, still naked, held out his hands, and pulled his slave to his feet. He led his slave up to the bedroom, ordered him to undress and retired to the bathroom to clean up after their vigorous sex session.

Mulder removed Andrew's clothes regretfully. He held the silk shirt up to his face for a second, nuzzling it.

"Thank you, Andrew," he murmured, before relinquishing the shirt to the laundry basket. He was sure he heard a little laugh, and felt a ghostly hand tousling his hair, and he smiled. 

His Master returned a few seconds later, and sat down on the side of the bed with an exhausted sigh.  Mulder used the bathroom himself, washed himself, and then brought his cock ring and nipple rings over to where his Master was sitting. He knelt before the other man, eyes down, and offered the rings to him. Skinner took them with a smile, and put them on the bed beside him.

“First things first.” He held out his wrists. “You put them on. You take them off,” he said. “That’s the way it works.” Mulder nodded, and unbuckled them, easing his fingers over the slightly red marks on his Master’s arms, rubbing them away. Then he reached up, and touched the silver collar around his Master’s neck. He undid it, his eyes never leaving those of his Master as he did so. He removed it, and handed it back to the other man with a sigh.

“Regrets, little one?” Skinner asked gently.

“No. None. I enjoyed it very much, but it isn’t what I want to be, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week,” Mulder replied. His Master nodded and threaded his slave’s nipple rings into place, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You, Master?” Mulder asked, trying to interpret his Master’s expression.

“No. It’s a valuable experience though,” Skinner said. “Every Master or top should make sure they sub occasionally every now and again. It reminds you how things feel. Sometimes it’s easy to get jaded, or fall back into the same routines. It’s always good to touch base with what it’s like on the receiving end.”

He took hold of his slave’s penis, and threaded the gold cock ring back onto it. Mulder gave a sigh recognizing that the status quo had been returned.

“Get into bed, boy. Your birthday’s over,” Skinner said firmly, reasserting his authority. 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder scrambled into bed, and waited for his Master. Skinner placed the silver cuffs and collar on the dresser, and then returned to the bed, walking a little stiffly. “I think I’m going to be sore tomorrow after all this activity. I haven’t been on the receiving end of that amount of anal sex in a long while…to say nothing of…” He raised an eyebrow. “Carrots?” he deadpanned.

“Very healthy, Master.” Mulder grinned cheekily.

“Possibly not when eaten with chocolate sauce and cream,” Skinner pointed out. Mulder laughed. His Master slid into the bed beside him, and pulled his slave into his arms. A few seconds later a noise and movement around their feet alerted them to the fact that Wanda had arrived on the bed as well.

“Poor baby. She hasn’t had enough fuss today, have you, my little precious?” Skinner pulled the cat close, on the other side of him, and both cat and slave purred for a moment, wrapped up in the big man’s arms.

“What I never realized was how much I’d learn,” Mulder said, still trying to process the day’s events. His Master chuckled. Mulder turned on him in surprise. “You knew!” he said. “You knew I was going to feel like this!”

“I had a fair idea, yes.” Skinner played idly with one of his slave’s nipples and his cat’s ears simultaneously. “What did you learn, sweetheart?”

“Confidence,” Mulder said, unexpectedly. “You had total confidence in your position as my slave. When we were out, you didn’t feel demeaned, or in any way inferior. It was as if you were completely and utterly at peace with yourself and the world. You’ve spoken before about Master and slave complementing each other, working in tandem, as equals, each attune to the other’s needs, and tonight I felt as if that was what happened. I wish…I want that for us in our usual roles too. I feel I let you down. You’re such a great slave and I…”

“Fox – you are an excellent slave,” Skinner interrupted him. “You’re too hard on yourself. This was your first time at being a Master, remember, and I’ve had plenty of experience at being a sub. I was a long way from perfect in both roles when I first tried them. You did very well.”

“Thanks…but it’s just that seeing you today I realize that I haven’t had the confidence to be the slave I want to be. I’ve fought it, when really I’ve wanted so very much to give in. You showed me how to find that confidence today. Thanks for that.” He kissed his Master’s chest. “When we were in that bar, people envied me for having you as a slave. People wanted you. Nobody looked down on you – they were too busy wishing they owned you, or could be you.”

“It sounds as if that’s resolved something that’s been bothering you for a long time,” Skinner said softly, tweaking Mulder’s nipple affectionately.

“Yes. I think so.” Mulder nodded. “I learned a lot more than that though. I didn’t realize how good you’ve always been to me – and how you could have been so much more abusive. I didn’t understand what it feels like to have all this power over a person’s life, and how it feels to choose to wield it kindly, rather than throwing your weight around like that bastard Franklin.”

“You were an excellently restrained Master yourself – once you relaxed and gave yourself permission to have a good time.” Skinner squeezed his slave. Mulder surrendered himself to his Master’s embrace, nuzzling up to the big man. His Master’s hands roamed over his body, checking his property, reclaiming it as his own.

“So…what kind of Master was I? You said we all have to find the Masters that we want to be.” Mulder looked up into his Master’s dark eyes.

“Hmm. Well, you were very dramatic,” Skinner grinned. “And vocal! All that talking when you had me tied up – I almost wished you had gone for the full sensory deprivation so I wouldn’t have to listen.” He poked his slave in the ribs and Mulder laughed out loud.

“And you were very inventive – which comes as no surprise to someone who has sat through your many excuses and justifications for various misdeeds over the years,” Skinner observed wryly. Mulder groaned. “I never knew you had a kinky streak where foodstuffs are concerned either,” Skinner mused, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll have to slather you in cream and chocolate sauce one of these days and see how you like it.” Mulder’s groan turned into a distinct giggle. He loved it when his Master teased him.

“Seriously though,” Skinner mused, “I was interested to see how you dealt with your authority issues.”

“My authority issues?” Mulder propped himself up on his elbow, rested his head on his hand, and gazed at his Master, frowning.

“Yes. You’re always the one bucking against the system, railing against those in charge, and reacting defensively when criticized by older males with some kind of authority over you. I realize that’s some kind of reaction against your father, and a sign of your own insecurities with your sexuality, so it was good to watch you cope with being the one with the authority for once. You’ve never been in that situation before.”

“That’s true.”

“And I think that was the main reason why you almost gave up after brunch. You were scared what you might find out about what it’s like being the one with all the responsibility, the one giving orders – effectively becoming both the enemy and the object of desire. I’m not surprised that made you uncomfortable.”

“Ouch. You know me too well, Walter. I couldn’t have profiled myself better if I’d tried.” Mulder made a face. “And how did I deal with those issues?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Surprisingly well. I noticed you were flippant, and sent up both yourself and the situation you were in on occasion, in order to defuse the fact that you aren’t comfortable wielding that much power – but you were fairly responsible with it. Even when you forgot yourself, and went too far, you were aware you’d done so – and made rather pleasing amends for it.” Skinner lowered his face and kissed his slave gently, reminding Mulder of the kiss of apology he had given his own slave after spanking him too hard.

“And what about you?” Mulder asked. “How did it feel for you? Was it a significant difference? Did it change the way you viewed me?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure. At first I was just playing for you – to make your day work out well. Later though, when you got into it and genuinely started engaging in the power dynamic, I started really responding to you as Master, and I actually did enter subspace. That was your doing. I wouldn’t have been able to manage it if I wasn’t reacting to you. So, much as you might fight it, you do have the capacity to be an authority figure, Fox Mulder.”

Mulder sighed and shook his head. “Damn. After trying so hard to avoid it all my life too.” He grinned. “I saw a side of you that I never usually notice as well. I, uh, think I’m guilty of projecting a lot of my authority issues onto you, Walter,” he said, in an apologetic tone. “I’ve always cast you as the strong, surly, in charge guy, but you’re a lot more than that. I saw a different side to you today, and you know…that Bear person was kind of cute.” Mulder smiled, reaching up a finger to touch the hickey on his Master’s neck.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll see him again,” Skinner said softly. “For now though – we’re back to normal. Which means what, boy?”

“I’m your slave, Master. You own me.” Mulder felt there was something very right with the world when he said those words. “And truthfully, I wouldn’t want it any other way, Master.”

“Good.” Skinner chuckled. He kissed his slave firmly, and then settled back into the pillows with a contented sigh.

"That thing you did in the bar," Mulder whispered. "Kneeling like that in front of all those people. I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"You deserved it. You looked every inch the Master you were trying to be - I wanted to respond to that, and encourage you to keep going."

“Today has to be the best birthday present I’ve ever had,” Mulder said sleepily.

“I’m pleased to hear it. My slave deserves nothing but the best after all.” Skinner squeezed Mulder’s ass with a proprietorial hand, and a few moments later they were both fast asleep.

It was still dark when Mulder woke, a few hours later, just before dawn. He reached for his Master only to find himself alone in the bed. He heard his Master in the bathroom, and smiled. A few seconds later his Master returned to the bedroom, and Mulder opened his eyes a little, still half asleep. His Master was walking softly, clearly trying not to wake his slave, not realizing that Mulder was already awake. Mulder watched through half-lidded eyes as his Master went over to the dressed, where the silver collar and cuffs were lying, abandoned. Skinner picked them up, opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, drew out a case, and placed the cuffs and collar reverently inside. Then the big man paused, and drew out the collar again. He caressed it for a little while, and then raised it to his mouth and bestowed a little kiss on it, a smile curving on his lips.

“Bear,” he murmured, shaking his head, still smiling. “Lord of Misrule.” He shook his head again, and gave a little grunt of laughter, before returning the collar to the case, and, with one last regretful look, replaced the case in the bottom drawer of the dresser. Mulder closed his eyes tightly, feigning sleep as his Master got back into bed, not wishing to intrude on the other man’s private moment. Skinner pulled his slave close, and kissed his forehead. “Your Bear, my crazy Lord of Misrule,” Mulder heard his Master whisper softly. “Always your Bear.”

End of Part 23

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Beautiful subby Walter pic below courtesy of Gaby. Good enough to eat, ain't he? <G>

Another gorgeous subby Walter pic! This time by Sergeeva: