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.