~ 24/7 - Chapter 25: The Branding
Continued from Part
One ~
|
Mulder
was in the middle of deep, comfortable sleep when a voice cut through his
dreams. He struggled to make sense of it, burying his head in the pillow with a
little moan, trying to ignore the insistent tones that were rousing him. "Wanda,"
the voice said to him. "Wanda!" "Mmmm?"
Mulder woke enough to wonder whether his Master was trying to find the little
cat, but a second later he felt a whoosh of cold air as the sheets were pulled
from his body. "Wanda!" His Master said in his ear, a discernible note
of irritation in his voice. "Wha…?"
Mulder gazed around blearily. "Obey
me, boy!" His Master growled, and then, a split second later, Mulder found
himself being flipped, none too gently, onto his stomach. His hips were grabbed
and yanked up, and he found himself kneeling. He put out his hands to brace
himself, and then came fully to wakefulness as he felt his Master's hands pull
his buttocks open and enter forcefully into his anus with one powerful thrust. "Oh
shit! What the fuck…?" Mulder shouted, as every nerve ending in his body
jangled at the sudden intrusion into his sleepy flesh. His Master ignored him
and Mulder struggled to stay upright as Skinner pumped into him forcefully.
‘Wanda’ fucks were always of the rough, extremely basic variety, which was
usually a turn on for Mulder, and sure enough, his treacherous cock responded as
soon as his brain got to grips with the situation. He realised that his Master
had woken him early using the 'Wanda' word with the sole intention of making use
of his slave without any finesse. Mulder glanced at the clock – it was 6.30
am, but they had been in the habit of sleeping in over the past few days so it
felt as if he had been woken in the middle of the night. Skinner clearly
intended for this to be an object lesson as well, because he kept up a fast but
controlled pace for several long minutes while Mulder tried to come to terms
mentally with what was happening. The suddenness of the event and the time his
Master was taking was making him sore, and he was all too well aware that this
was part of the lesson – his Master was making his slave fully aware that he
was starting as he meant to go on. "Shit…please…ow…shit…"
Mulder moaned as the onslaught continued relentlessly. "Hold
your position, boy. I want to make full use of you," Skinner told him
tersely. His Master's hands were firm on his hips, wrenching them back to meet
his powerful thrusts and there was no way that Mulder could escape from the
other man. Skinner finally came with a low roar and withdrew from his slave's
body. Mulder collapsed forward onto his arms, burying his head in them. "Up."
Skinner's hand thwapped down hard on his exposed bottom. "Go to the
bathroom and clean yourself up and bring a washcloth for me, and then get your
ass out here. I am NOT happy about your response so consider yourself in a whole
heap of trouble, boy." "Clean
me," Skinner ordered tersely. Mulder
did his task quickly, and then knelt back down again. "All
right – your explanation, boy," Skinner demanded. "I'm
sorry, Master." Mulder grimaced. "I was asleep…I didn't understand
what you wanted. It took me a few minutes to wake up enough to figure it out and
by then it was too late. "Maybe
I haven't made myself clear," Skinner told him, in low, stern tones,
"but you are my slave. Your body exists for my pleasure and use, and when I
want access to it I expect it to be given to me immediately. I don't care if
you're asleep – I expect you to be so attuned to your Master's will that if I
came to you in your dreams and commanded you to get on your hands and knees so I
could use you you'd do it, immediately, and without question." "I'm
sorry, Master," Mulder said again, his cock responding as it always did to
his Master's more forceful choice of words. "Maybe
you are, but this is an indication of the fact that you've been backsliding,
boy. I can see we have a lot of work to do to make you responsive to me. I've
been too soft on you – you need to be reminded of who and what you are. There
isn't any part of your body that doesn't belong to me. It isn't yours, boy, it's
mine. You will not deny me entrance to your mouth or your ass – and
I'll enjoy myself in both those places whenever I please, for as long as I
please, whether you're asleep or awake. Understood?" "Good.
However, in order to make sure that the lesson has really been learned, I think
a long punishment session is necessary," Skinner informed him. Mulder
looked up, his heart pounding in his chest. It had been a long time since he had
been on the receiving end of a serious punishment session and he wondered
exactly what it would entail. He was astonished by how quickly his Master had
succeeded in completely wrong-footing him. He had imagined that Skinner would
slowly get him into headspace, maybe play some demanding but highly enjoyable
sex games with him on and off over the next few days, but still be his kind
lover, Walter. At the moment, however, there was no sign of Walter in those
stern dark eyes. Skinner was completely and utterly every inch his Master and he
was making it very clear to Mulder that right now he was a slave and that he
would be treated as such. If Mulder had imagined he would struggle and resist he
felt a very long way from being able to do so at this moment in time. He had
been caught off guard and now he didn't have a clue what he was doing – the
control hadn't so much been taken from him as yanked out from under his feet
completely, leaving him out of breath and disoriented. "Eyes
down, boy," Skinner barked. "Hold the submissive pose the way
you were taught – or have you forgotten everything I taught you?" "That's
better. Now, this will be a long punishment session – in fact it will last the
entire day," Skinner told his slave. Mulder felt sure that his gulp was
audible. "By the end of the day I want this to be a lesson you have learned
down to the core of your soul so that if I were to whisper your special word to
you while you were eating you'd present yourself to me the way you were taught
to and the way in which you signally failed to do just now. Do you
remember the position you are to assume when I use your word, boy?" Skinner
barked. "Yes,
Master!" "Then
assume it now," Skinner ordered. Mulder
got up, quickly, bent over the back of the armchair, and presented his ass to
his Master. He held apart his ass cheeks to make his Master's access easier
should he choose to use him, flushing wildly as he did so because the position
was both humiliating and intimate. "Good,"
Skinner commented. Mulder began to get up. "No – don't move. I like the
view," Skinner said. "And as you didn't present yourself properly to
me earlier you can stay like that for the next few minutes. I'm going to use
your special word several times for the next few days and I expect you to assume
your position as quickly as you did just then – whatever time of the day or
night I give the order. I might not choose to use you on many of the occasions I
give the word, but you will stay in that position each time until I tell you
that you may get up again. Understood?" "Yes,
Master," Mulder said, squirming at the thought of how he must look,
standing here, his asshole exposed in this way. "Good.
The choice isn't yours, Fox – you'll do what you're told, when you're told,
for as long as you are told." A
firm slap on his bottom illustrated this point, and then Mulder heard his Master
go into the bathroom. He listened to the sound of his Master peeing, taking a
brief shower, and then brushing his teeth. Finally, after several long,
degrading minutes, Skinner returned to the bedroom. Mulder watched from under
his own armpit as Skinner pulled on sweats and then glanced at his slave again. "I'm
leaving the room. Remain in position, boy. If you move so much as an inch then
you'll take 6 strokes of the cane before I even begin your punishment session.
Understood?" His
Master returned a few minutes later bearing an armful of disciplinary
implements, including the hated dragon cane. Mulder swallowed down hard, barely
even daring to look at his Master from under his arm. "All
right, boy." Skinner clicked his fingers and Mulder sank quickly into the
submissive position at the other man's feet. "First I'm going to clamp
you," he said ominously, opening a little velvet box and showing Mulder a
set of nipple clamps. Mulder gave a low moan – these nipple clamps were the
most vicious ones that his Master possessed and he knew just how painful they
were. "Fox,"
Skinner said sharply. "You do understand that this is a punishment session,
don't you?" "Good
– do you understand why you're being punished?" Skinner asked. Mulder
shrugged. Skinner tapped his head firmly. "Well?" He asked. "For
not obeying you more quickly, Master?" Mulder asked with a tinge of
rebellion in his voice. "Although I was asleep, Master," he
added resentfully. Although he had told Skinner to take him down, he hadn't
expected to be so forcefully wrenched back into his slavery and it was rankling
with him. He had expected to be eased down gently with his Master's usual erotic
skill, and after the past few days of peace and quiet and enjoyable togetherness
he was in no mood to be pushed, which was precisely what his Master seemed to be
doing. "I've
already explained this to you, Fox, but you seem unwilling to accept it,"
Skinner told him firmly. "You're a slave – your sole purpose is to
address yourself to my pleasure. I own you and it pleases me to introduce myself
into any part of your body whenever I wish. I don’t care whether you're fast
asleep, boy. When I want to make use of you then I expect you to open your legs
or mouth for me and immediately make yourself available." "Yes,
Master," Mulder murmured. "Yes,
Master," Mulder agreed. "Then
you will understand why you are being punished," Skinner told him in a tone
that allowed for no contradiction. Mulder squirmed. Put like that then it was
all entirely logical but he had been asleep damnit! And he was a long way from
the early days of his slavery when all this had been new to him and he was alert
to every single nuance of his Master's needs. Things had gotten…comfortable
between them. Routines weren't always followed. They knew each other much better
now, and had settled into a version of slavery that wasn't quite so demanding as
this. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted to be reminded so forcefully of the basics. "Yes,
Master," he agreed at last, with a resentful grimace. "You
will also understand why this is going to be a particularly harsh punishment
session," Skinner told him. Mulder felt as if his heart had dropped out of
his chest and into the soles of his feet. He glanced up and met his Master's
eyes for the first time. "Eyes
down!" Skinner snapped. Mulder obeyed hastily, shivering slightly. "Yes,
Master," he said at last, feeling as if he was drowning, splashing around
blindly with nothing to hold onto except his Master. "Good.
I don't want you to be in any doubt about this. I want you to prepare yourself
mentally for an extremely long and painful day," Skinner said. "You
may look at the implements on the bed." Mulder did so, shaking even more as
he took in the array of disciplinary implements lying there. Skinner had brought
down half a dozen of the most no-nonsense implements in the Playroom. "I
will be spanking you every hour, on the hour," Skinner said, glancing at
his watch. "Beginning at 8 am and continuing until your bedtime. For each
spanking you will wear the nipple clamps. It's your responsibility to remind me
when your next spanking is due. Keep an eye on your watch – I can assure you
that your punishment will be considerably worse if you forget to remind
me." "I'll
use whichever implement I feel appropriate at the time – although it will
always be one of these 6 implements. You will therefore carry them around all
day in preparation for your next spanking – I don't want them to be further
than an arm's reach from you at any point in time. For this first spanking, I'll
use the paddle." He picked up a hard, wooden paddle. It was plain,
workmanlike, and utterly un-erotic - and Mulder knew from personal experience
that it packed a flat, solid punch. "However,
as we have another half an hour or so to go until 8 am, I think some silent
reflection would do you good. It will give you time to consider the day's
punishments, how you've brought them on yourself, and what you will learn from
them. I think that in order to give the next half an hour some additional
impact, that you can wear the nipple clamps as well." "Problem,
slave?" Skinner asked. "Those
clamps are particularly painful, Master," Mulder said in a voice that
sounded suspiciously like a squawk to his own ears. "Yes,
they are," Skinner affirmed. "Did I not make it clear that this was to
be a punishment?" "The
clamps are part of your punishment, boy. They're supposed to be painful. Maybe
the pain will help to focus your mind on where you went wrong this morning and
how you can improve on that dismal performance," Skinner snapped.
"Now, come here and present yourself for clamping." Mulder
shuffled closer to his Master but didn't dare get to his feet without
permission. He knelt, instead, his shoulders thrown back, his nipples standing
pert and proud on his chest, seemingly unaware of the torture that was about to
be visited on them. Mulder watched in trepidation as his Master removed the
clamps from their box. "Eyes
down!" Skinner commanded. "If I have to remind you of that again then
you'll receive a lash from my bullwhip." Mulder shuddered and dropped his
gaze immediately. He had no wish to experience the bullwhip while his Master was
in this kind of mood. "Shoulders out, arms behind your back – and keep
them there," Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed, aware that the action pushed
his chest out even more, leaving his nipples totally exposed and vulnerable. He
waited for what felt like several long minutes, expecting to feel those
torturing clamps on his nipples at any point, wondering what on earth could be
taking his Master so long. Finally he started to tremble in earnest – the
anticipation of imminent pain was almost worse than the pain itself, and he was
on the brink of getting up, and telling his Master it was a mistake, and he
couldn't face it, when suddenly his left nipple was grasped firmly, and a second
later the steel jaws of the clamp snapped shut over it with a resounding lash of
pure pain. Mulder gave a gasping cry, which his Master ignored. "Now
the other one," Skinner told him. "Please…Master…it
hurts…" Mulder whimpered. Skinner had never made him wear these clamps
for more than five or ten minutes before. He couldn't imagine how he would
endure half an hour in them, followed by a spanking, which was to be conducted
while he was still wearing them, but Skinner was utterly implacable. "It's
supposed to hurt, Fox. This is a punishment. I want to hurt my slave in order to
make him understand the full extent of his Master’s displeasure. Now, what are
you being punished for?" "Exactly
– and as the crime is so serious, I can assure you the punishment will be
correspondingly severe," Skinner told him. Mulder didn't have time to reply
because Skniner grasped his other nipple and fastened the clamp onto it with a
swift movement that took Mulder's breath away. "Oh
shit…" He broke position, his hands coming up to whisk those cutting
steel-jawed points of pure fire from his nipples – only to find the way
blocked by his Master's large hands. "Good
boy. If you take your punishment well I'll be proud of you," Skinner told
him, more gently than Mulder had been expecting. His Master pushed his slave's
sweaty, tousled hair away from his face. "That's good. Go with the pain,
boy. Give yourself up to it," Skinner whispered and Mulder moaned and
leaned his head in to meet his Master's embrace, needing Skinner's strength and
reassurance to see him through this ordeal. His nipples were points of blazing
agony and it still hadn't abated to a manageable level. "Please…please…"
he whispered, nuzzling his Master's hand hopefully. "I can't wear them for
much longer, Master…please…" "It
hurts so much, Master," Mulder said miserably, leaning his head against the
other man's chest. "I
know, sweetheart. Go with the pain, bear it as your right and your due. Take it
into yourself, and learn from it," Skinner whispered, stroking his slave's
hair comfortingly. Mulder
gave a choking cry and tried to do just that. The presence of his Master, gently
stroking and comforting him helped – with Skinner at his side, encouraging
him, he felt he could endure any ordeal. Skinner
stroked him for several long minutes and the pain subsided into something a
little more bearable although still unbelievably agonising, and then, just as
Mulder thought he might be able to endure this, Skinner moved away and said:
"Wanda." "Still
too slow. When will you understand that there is to be no delay on this, Fox? I
say your word to you, and you immediately present yourself to me for use.
You don't look at me for confirmation, and you don't hesitate, or play for time.
You just get into position, smoothly, quickly, and demonstrate to me what a good
and available slave you are." Skinner illustrated the word 'available' by
sliding a finger into his slave's anus. Mulder closed his eyes, and tried to
ignore his hard cock – it went without saying that his Master didn't intend
for him to come today but despite the pain and frustration of his current
situation, he couldn't deny that he was turned on, as he always was when Skinner
treated him in this most uncompromising and yet erotic way. Skinner sank his
finger deep into Mulder's anus and Mulder sighed and pushed his butt out as his
Master unerringly hit his prostate. His
Master finger fucked him for several minutes, which Mulder thoroughly enjoyed
despite his Master's injunction that it wasn't about his pleasure, and then
Skinner withdrew his finger and walked into the en suite bathroom, leaving his
slave exposed over the armchair, his hands still keeping his buttocks open
should his Master wish to use him. Skinner
left his slave there for what must have been ten or fifteen minutes. It was the
most unendurably humiliating position, made even worse by the fact that Mulder
couldn’t lean comfortably on the armchair for fear of disturbing the vicious
points of steel that were digging into his nipples. Mulder felt as if he was
going to pass out – the nipple clamps were unbearable and the position he was
in was making his legs shake from the strain but his Master showed him no mercy.
Skinner insisted that his slave remain clamped and in position until 8 am
precisely, and only then did he call his slave over. Mulder stood up, red faced
and winded by the fact that it was only 8 am and the day had a long, painful way
to go before this punishment session was over. "All
right – time for your first spanking. Get yourself into the grace position,
boy, and prepare to be truly thankful for what you're about to receive."
Skinner gave a macabre smile, which made Mulder shudder. He walked over to the
wall and got into position, his hands flat against the surface of the wall, his
legs wide apart, his butt jutting out, exposed, waiting for its punishment. He
heard his Master approach and then jumped as the other man placed a gentle hand
on his butt, fondling tenderly. "Ah,
this is such a beautiful bottom. Unfortunately I haven't kept it as red as it
should be. An ass like this should be permanently glowing and I can assure you
that today there will be no opportunity for the lovely blush I'm about to bestow
to fade. I'll keep your ass constantly warm…" Mulder lost himself in the
litany, loving the deep, rich sound of his Master's voice even as he quailed at
the import of what the other man was saying. The caressing hand was removed from
his ass, and, a few seconds later, the hard wooden paddle descended on his
waiting flesh with a resounding thwack. Mulder gave a hoarse cry and was soon
yelling in earnest as his Master rained down blow after blow. He didn't give
Mulder time to get his breath back between swats, and he didn't stop until every
square inch of his slave's bottom had been covered numerous times. The
onslaught came to an abrupt end and Mulder stood there, still braced against the
wall, his breathing coming in hard pants. "Good
boy. I'm very proud of you for taking that so well. I enjoy punishing you, Fox.
Your ass looks so good when it's red…I love watching it wriggle as it waits
for my paddle to punish it. You look very sexy when you abandon yourself to me,
head thrown back, legs wide apart…I like that," Skinner said throatily,
making Mulder's cock become even harder, if that were possible. "Good boy.
I'm going to play with you for a while. Hold still," Skinner said, standing
close behind his slave, his sweats rubbing maddeningly on Mulder's sensitised
backside. His Master kneaded his buttocks for awhile, making Mulder squirm and
cry out although he held position – just. Then Skinner's hands went around his
slave's front and he gently rubbed Mulder's chest. His fingers spidered up
towards Mulder's nipples, and then there was a slight jerking tug as Skinner
removed the clamps and a few seconds later Mulder felt a flash of pain so bright
that it almost blinded him. He knew he was howling out loud and reeling as the
blood flowed back into his nipples after their half hour of torment. "Oh
god! Oh shit!" he cried. "Please, Master…please…" His cries
didn't fall on deaf ears. Mulder felt Skinner's hands on his body, pulling him
away from the wall, turning him, and then his Master's warm mouth descended on
his nipples, soothing them, roving from one to the other, softly reviving them.
After a few seconds of this, Skinner drew back and pulled his slave close,
hugging him to his chest, comforting him. "Good
boy. I'm proud of you…good boy…well done, Fox…" he murmured over and
over again and that was the only thing that gave Mulder the strength to
continue. He buried his face in his Master's shoulder and held on for dear life
as Skinner fondled, kissed and caressed his naked slave, taking good care of
him. "Wanda,"
Skinner murmured and Mulder didn't even register the word for several seconds.
He didn't want to leave the comfort of his Master's loving arms. He wanted to be
rocked here forever. "Wanda," Skinner said again, pushing his slave
away. Mulder gave a moan of protest and got onto his knees. He leaned forward,
and held his buttocks open. "You see," Skinner said, tracing a finger
down his slave's back. "You haven't learned this lesson yet, Fox. You just
want the punishment to stop and that's a different thing entirely. Now, you can
get up and get washed and then come downstairs for breakfast. Remember to bring
your implements with you. And Fox…" He called his slave back as Mulder
walked, disconsolately towards the bathroom. "Don't jerk off in
there," Skinner told his slave, a knowing expression in his dark eyes.
"From now on you don't even touch your penis without my permission – and
that includes going to the bathroom. Ask me if you need to go." Mulder
nodded miserably. This was a familiar part of his Master's training routines –
and one he hated. He knew that Skinner was trying to remind him that his body
belonged to his Master, even down to the most basic of bodily functions, but it
was humiliating to have to ask permission to touch his own cock in order to take
a piss. Mulder fought with himself for a moment, struggling with what he knew he
had to do, and then he opened his mouth. Skinner
nodded. "Very well, slave. And?" He prompted. "And
may I wash your property in the shower, Master?" Mulder whispered, hating
the words as he fought his own submission. If only this was easy! If only he
could just be in the right place in his head at a snap of his Master's fingers,
but Mulder had to concede that it had been a very long time since his Master had
last taken him this low, and while he fought it and struggled against it, he so
desperately wanted to achieve the serenity and joy that always awaited him when
he made the journey. He remembered, wryly, how he was the one who was always
urging Skinner to take him close to edge play, to make it really count – and
yet now it was happening to him he just wanted to fight it. "No,
slave. You may not," Skinner told him. "You can allow the water to
wash over you but you won't touch yourself. You can do without soap and you can
dry off naturally by walking around the house." "Well
hurry, slave. Daylight's burning." Skinner shoed him into the shower and
then turned and went back downstairs. Mulder glared after him. If
Mulder imagined there would be any respite over breakfast he was sorely
mistaken. Skinner swiftly instructed him to kneel beside his chair at the dining
room table, eyes down, and disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the food. A
few seconds later Mulder was instructed to open his mouth and a spoonful of food
was pushed between his lips. He couldn't see the food so it was only when he
started to chew that he realised what it was – and almost spat it out in
disgust. "Problem,
slave?" Skinner asked. "It's
salad, Master," Mulder told him. "Very
observant, slave," Skinner replied urbanely, pushing a spoonful of beetroot
into Mulder's mouth. Mulder almost gagged on it. "For
breakfast, Master?" He questioned, swallowing the vegetable down hurriedly. "That's
right," Skinner affirmed pleasantly. Mulder
wasn't a great fan of salad at the best of times and his Master seemed to have
gathered together all his least favourite items of food and put them on one
plate. They were all foods he could actually eat – he didn't loathe them and
they didn't make him retch so he could swallow them down - but he didn't
actually like any of them. Skinner continued feeding his slave until
Mulder had devoured a fair amount of lettuce, cucumber, beets, and various other
salad vegetables. Then his Master handed his slave a portion of plain brown
bread, without any butter on it. His Master disappeared into the kitchen and
returned a few minutes later with a plate of eggs and toast, which he proceeded
to devour. It smelled divine and Mulder's mouth was watering as he slowly put
bite-sized pieces of the plain, cold bread into his mouth. His Master didn't
offer him any of his own breakfast though, and he spent a long, leisurely hour
eating his fill and reading the paper, utterly ignoring his kneeling slave.
Mulder felt the nugget of rebellion grow inside him. He couldn't stand much more
of this. On the dot of 9 am, Skinner stood up. "On
your feet, slave," he ordered. Mulder got up, and was taken by surprise
when his nipples were grasped firmly and the clamps reapplied to them. Skinner
had moved so fast that he hadn't even realised what was happening until too late
and then that familiar flash of agony shot through his chest, making him cry out
loud. "Good
boy. Now, over the table. I'm going to use the strap on you this time."
Skinner pushed Mulder firmly over the dining room table and Mulder found his
face ended up so close to his Master's plates that he could smell the divine
scent of a really good breakfast. It was tantalising and it distracted him from
his pained nipples – but not for long, as within seconds his Master's strap
was making painful contact with his bottom. The spanking was short and to the
point, and then he was pulled to his feet, and the clamps were whisked away from
his nipples, making him hop, silently yelping with pain as he did so. "Don't
make a fuss, boy. Take your punishment properly, like an obedient slave who
knows he is deserving of his Master's correction," Skinner told him
sternly. Mulder took several deep breaths, trying to pull himself back together,
his resentment growing. His Master clearly had no idea how damn painful those
clamps were – and that strap had gone about its work with a mighty sting as
well. "Clear away the plates and wash up," Skinner ordered.
"Quickly, slave, we have a lot to get through today." And so saying he
went and sat down on the couch. "We?"
Mulder muttered under his breath. "We have a lot to get through
today?" He piled up the plates on top of each other and started taking them
into the kitchen. He was half way across the room when Skinner's voice rang out. "Wanda." "Still
too slow – and next time lose the attitude, boy," Skinner snapped. Mulder
gritted his teeth and tried to keep from growling out loud. His Master made no
use of him. He just left him there for a few minutes and then ordered him to
continue with his task of washing the dishes. Mulder
found Wanda sitting in her usual place by the faucet waiting for someone to turn
it on so she could drink, despite the fact that she had a full bowl of water
waiting for her on the floor. "Oh
fuck. Shit, fuck, shit," Mulder growled in a low undertone once he was
alone in the kitchen. "Fuck," he said again, kicking a cupboard for
good measure. Wanda flicked her ears at him. "Nothing personal, Wanda, but
I'm coming to really hate your name," Mulder mused. He rested his elbows on
the kitchen counter and stared morosely at the wall. "Your slave is a total
bastard, you know that?" He told her. She blinked solemnly. "Yes, I
know I told him to take me down, but I didn't expect this. I was thinking
more of a long, hot sex session in the Playroom," he grumbled. Tears
pricked at the back of his eyes, taking him by surprise. "It's so hard,
Wanda," he whispered, and she tripped daintily across the counter and
nestled under his chin, rubbing her head affectionately against his face. He
buried himself in her fur, and she purred delightedly, coaxing a small smile
from him. "I know," he told her. "A session in the Playroom would
have been fun but it wouldn't have taken me down enough to cope with being
branded – and I do want that, Wanda. I just wish it wasn't so hard…Maybe if
it was easy then I wouldn't appreciate it…I dunno. I'm trying to find a silver
lining here because I hate him so much right now." He said that with such
vehemence that Wanda's yellowy-green eyes widened and gazed at him anxiously,
her ears darting back and forth. "It's okay. I didn't mean to scare you.
Come here." He picked her up and gently caressed her until she relaxed
again. Then, with a sigh, he put her down and returned to the dirty plates. As
soon as he was finished, Skinner clipped his nipple lead on him and took him
upstairs to the 18th floor apartment. Mulder walked to heel, as he
had been taught many months previously – but it had been a long time since his
Master had leashed him and he struggled to remember all the correct moves. They
hadn't been upstairs since the aborted party and Mulder's heart sank when he
surveyed the total mess that greeted them. There were empty glasses and bottles
strewn around, as well as the congealed mess of food on dozens of plates. "You'll
clean the entire apartment," Skinner told him. "Make sure that your
implements are within arm's reach at all times. I'll sit here and direct
operations." He cleared a space on the couch and sat down. Mulder stared at
him. "I'm
sure that will very helpful, Master," he said sarcastically, unable to stop
himself. Skinner raised an eyebrow. "There's
no point in keeping a slave and working yourself," he replied sweetly.
Mulder clenched his fists and tried hard to hold onto his temper.
"Wanda," Skinner said, piling on the pressure. Mulder fought a split
second battle with himself. Of all the freaking times to use that word, now was
one of the worst his Master could have chosen. Mulder knew he was close to the
edge, knew he was fighting a silent battle with Skinner every step of the way
instead of just surrendering himself to his Master's will, but he couldn't stop
himself. He seriously considered not obeying, as Skinner watched him, his
dark eyes studying his slave's response searchingly, although he made no move,
as if waiting for Mulder to come to a decision. Finally, with a growl of anger,
Mulder got on his hands and knees and presented his ass to his Master. He was
surprised a few seconds later to feel the strap on his still warm bottom. His
Master gave him three swift swats. "That's for the delay, Fox. Now get this
hot ass into the kitchen and start washing the glasses," Skinner ordered. Mulder
scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the little galley kitchen, his cheeks
flushing almost as bright as his butt cheeks. Damn but he really couldn't
take much more of this. The
day didn't improve. Mulder suffered through 3 more hourly spankings, and his
nipples were now sore almost all the time from the repeated clampings. The
tidy-up in the upstairs apartment went at a snail's pace – mainly owing to
Skinner's insistence that he take his disciplinary implements everywhere with
him, so if he was carrying glasses from the Playroom to the kitchen he had to
carry his implements in one hand and under his arm, leaving him with only enough
room to carry a couple of glasses back to the kitchen. It was infuriating, and
Mulder's irritation level was soon sky high. Skinner stopped the proceedings
after his slave's 1 o’ clock spanking and fed his slave a bean stew – which
Mulder disliked to the point of almost spitting it out. Then it was straight
back to his task of cleaning the upstairs apartment. By 3 o' clock Mulder was
close to the edge. He took a garbage sack around the apartment, picking up
litter, nudging his implements into accompanying him with his foot as he went.
He glanced over to the couch and saw that his Master's eyes were closed –
which seemed like a perfect opportunity to abandon the implements and chase
around the apartment at a much faster pace in order to clear up all the litter.
He worked quickly and efficiently, one eye on his Master as he went, and he was
almost done when he heard a noise behind him. "I
thought I made it clear that your implements were to be kept within reach at all
times?" Skinner said ominously, rising from the couch. "Oh
for god's sake!" Mulder snapped. "It'll take all night to get this
done if I have to bring them along every step of the fucking way!" "Who
said there was any hurry?" Skinner replied smoothly. "There isn't. If
it takes all day then that's fine. If it takes 2 days then that's fine
too." He smiled urbanely. "You aren't going anywhere, slave and I'm
happy to supervise you until it's done." Skinner
set Mulder back to work, which he did in enforced silence, his rebellion growing
with every passing second. He hated the ball gag with a vengeance, and longed to
rip it from his mouth and throw it at his Master who was sitting comfortably on
the couch reading a novel while Mulder did all the hard work. What made matters
worse was that while he couldn’t talk, he could drool which was both
humiliating and annoying. The large ball gag made it impossible to stop the
spittle sliding out of the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin and when
he tried to wipe it away with his hand his Master forbade him to touch his
property which just put Mulder in an even worse mood as he had to endure the
slow, steady tide of his own spit rolling down his chin almost constantly.
Mulder stomped around the apartment with bad grace and his next few spankings
did nothing to improve his mood. Skinner made sure that each one was hard and
his bottom was now as sore as his nipples. He couldn't even yell during
spankings because of the intrusive ball gag and the ache in his jaw was getting
worse with every passing second. Skinner didn't remove the gag for several
hours, and Mulder couldn't bring himself to go and beg his Master to remove it
by sitting at the big man's side and giving him his famous pleading puppy dog
gaze. Skinner ignored both him and the atmosphere of total anger and frustration
that was now emanating from his slave. Mulder's movements became noisier and
noisier as he cleared up – if he couldn't speak then he could sure as hell
make his annoyance known by crashing plates and glasses around and generally
making as much of a racket as possible. "Good,
slave. I'm pleased," Skinner said, gazing around the now spotless
apartment. Mulder breathed a sigh
of relief. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed – as
soon as possible. "I'll just inspect the Playroom," Skinner said, and
he walked along the corridor with Mulder at his heels, inspected that room as
well, and then, finally satisfied, he nodded to his slave. "You've finished
now, slave, so I think it's time to mark you. Hand me my cane." He held out
his hand. Mulder
felt the full force of his anger and misery well up inside him. "You cannot
be serious!" He snapped. "I
most certainly am." Skinner drew himself up to his full height and gazed
imperiously at his slave. "Your ass may be sore but it isn't marked – and
it's time it was." "Come
here," Skinner said in a deadly tone. "NO!"
Mulder cried. "I've had enough!" His Master walked towards him and something in Mulder snapped. He lunged at the other man, transformed into a sobbing, hissing wildcat. He pummelled his fists against Skinner's chest, screaming incoherently at the top of his voice. Skinner endured the worst of his slave's explosion, just standing there, absorbing the blows, and then he grabbed his slave's wrists and held them firmly behind Mulder's back. Mulder tried to free himself, struggling pointlessly against his Master's superior strength for several long minutes, still screeching like a banshee. "I hate you! I fucking hate you!" He screamed, fighting for
breath, all the anger washing through him, exploding out of him in a torrent of
abuse. Skinner held him for several long minutes while he struggled, and then
finally Mulder gave up, all his energy leaving him in one go. He almost fell but
his Master, whose hands had been holding him down, now held him up. "It's
all right, little one," Skinner said softly. "Let it all out. It's
fine. Scream all you want. Let it go. I'm not going to let you fall." He
held Mulder up for a long time while Mulder sagged against him. Finally Mulder's
anger turned into tears and he found himself holding onto his Master for dear
life, burying his head in Skinner's shoulder as the sobs came out of him in
great choking gasps. Skinner released his slave's wrists and his hands came up
and gathered Mulder in close, holding him tight against his chest. "You
can get as angry as you like, and you can struggle as much as you like,"
Skinner said in firm, low tones, "I'll still be here. I'm strong enough to
take all of it, Fox. I can take all of you." "I
hate you," Mulder whispered into his Master's shoulder. "Yup.
I guess you do right now," Skinner said with a low, rumbling laugh. "I
didn't think you'd last as long as you did. You are such an obstinate boy."
"No, I think you were testing me. I was just trying to get all that anger
out of you so we could move on," Skinner said softly. "I
wasn't angry until you made me angry," Mulder muttered. "Sure
you were. You wanted to be branded and it didn't happen. You're angry with
yourself for not being able to go through with it and you're angry with me for
not insisting that you did. I can insist, Fox, as I'm sure I proved today. I can
be every inch the implacable, demanding Master whenever it's necessary. I think
in your heart you already knew that, but you needed a reminder." "Yes.
I just didn't expect the explosion to take this long to happen – although you
sure as hell have been building it up all day. How's it going in there? Do you
need to kick and scream any more or are you done?" "You
wanted to struggle…you told me so last night. I needed to get that struggle
out of the way so we could move you down into a more serene state of acceptance.
I am not going to brand a slave who is spitting, cursing and hollering at
me all the way through. I just forced the pace a little, to get to the stuff
you'd buried deep. You never can just let something go – you need to get it
out and express it before you can move on. That's just you." Skinner gently
kissed his slave's forehead. "Now listen to me, pup," he said fondly,
and Mulder sighed and relaxed against his Master's chest, comforted by being
addressed lovingly as 'pup' and not the colder and more distant 'slave' which
was how Skinner had been addressing him all day. "Good boy." Skinner
kissed him again. "I know it's hard being taken right down – and we still
have a way to go. It's been a long time since I've made you go this far down but
we'll get there," Skinner said soothingly. "Yes,
Master. You know I do," he said at last. "Good.
Then surrender yourself to that trust and we can start to make some progress
here. Put aside your own small wants and needs, give up the pettiness, anger and
guilt…and just be, Fox. Find the root of your slavery and enjoy it. Give all
the negativity up to me. Give me the fear – of your own submission, of being
branded and all the commitment that entails because you are afraid of that, deep
inside. Give all that up. Give up your worries about the last time someone put a
mark on your body." Skinner's fingers gently caressed the scar on Mulder's
chest where Krycek had carved his initials into is flesh. "Because you have
been worried about that, pup," Skinner said softly. "This will be
different. This branding will be done with love, and when it happens you'll
welcome my mark onto your body. It won't be done in fear and pain by someone who
hates you." "Because
you're my slave," Skinner said softly. "And you belong to me." Mulder
rested his head against his Master's shoulder again. Those few words just about
summed everything up, and they filled him with warmth. "You've
been fighting me, sweetheart," Skinner said, caressing his slave gently.
"Oh not just now, you've been fighting me all day. Instead of giving
yourself up to me, you've fought with me every single step of the way, over
every order. Today was a battle of wills – I expected it to be and it was, and
of course you fought tooth and nail but you didn't win, sweetheart because you
didn't want to – not deep inside. Now…are you ready to trust me properly?
Are you ready to accept my mastery over you? Can you turn off that little voice
inside your head that questions and complains about everything I ask of
you?" Mulder
bit on his lip, shame-faced. He had done that. Although he had superficially
obeyed his Master throughout the day, he had not done so willingly, and several
sharp retorts had risen to his tongue, whether he had actually spoken them or
not. He had not actually accepted his Master’s right to punish him, even
though he had presented himself for that punishment. "I
can do that, Master," he said, wearily, feeling better just for saying it
and for starting on the journey to true submission that would bring him the
reward he wanted at the end of it. "I'd
rather you didn't have to, Master," Mulder said softly. Mulder
glanced up eagerly and Skinner laughed out loud. "I can see that's an
incentive. Bear it in mind, pup." "Very
impressive," he commented. Mulder
made a face. "I'm sorry, Master," he said with a sigh, although he
wasn't sure he felt all that repentant. "Fortunately,
I have more than one," Skinner told him brightly. Mulder knew his face had
to be a picture of dismay. He watched as Skinner opened a cupboard and pulled
out another hated cane. "Please,
Master," he begged. "You're not…you're not still going to mark me
are you?" After the catharsis of releasing his own emotions, and their
conversation, Mulder couldn't believe Skinner still intended to go ahead with
the marking. "Yes,
Fox, I am," his Master told him firmly. "But…Master,
I thought…that is…I'm not fighting you any more, I promise…but I really
can't stand any more tonight," Mulder said desperately. Skinner put the
dragon cane on the massage table and walked over to his slave. He put his hands
on Mulder's shoulders and looked into his slave's eyes. "Yes
you can, sweetheart. If I ask you to, you'll take it. You'll take whatever I ask
you to, however hard, because you're my slave, and you want to obey me,"
Skinner said. Mulder
bit on his lip again and looked down at the floor, trying to get control of
himself. He could feel the tears threatening to well up again and fought them
down. He had made enough of an idiot of himself for one day…but he really
couldn't bear the idea of being marked. His ass felt sore and sensitised from
all the spankings it had received during the day, and he was tired and
over-wrought and just wanted to go to bed, lie down in his Master's arms, and
recover. "Fox."
Skinner put a finger under Mulder's chin and tipped up his head so that his
slave had no choice but to look at him. "My
ass hurts so much, Master. Please, can't we do this tomorrow?" Mulder
asked. "No,
little one, we can't," Skinner told him, gently, but firmly. "You
understand it intellectually but you aren't feeling it yet, Fox. You're
my slave. You don't have a say in what I do to you, sweetheart. You aren't
making the choices around here - I am. It pleases me to mark you – and you
need to know that there's no way out, and that when your Master promises
something, he delivers it." Skinner
turned off the lights, casting the Playroom into darkness, and then settled
himself down on the cushions and pulled his slave between his open legs. He
wrapped his legs and arms around his slave, effectively imprisoning him, and
they both gazed out at the city beneath them. There was no more beautiful view
than that from the huge Playroom windows at night, Fox thought to himself as he
surveyed the sight. Gradually he felt his tense muscles relax and he melted back
against his Master's chest. Skinner stroked his arms and kissed his hair and
then, when Mulder was almost asleep, he started talking. "Once
upon a time…" he began. Mulder
opened his eyes. "You're telling me a story?" He interrupted. "Once
upon a time," he began again, and Mulder tried to listen and not to think
about that cane descending on his vulnerable flesh, "in an ancient world,
long, long ago, there was a warlord. He rode into battle and was always
victorious, and his fame spread throughout the land." Mulder
found himself fascinated despite himself. He would never have imagined his
Master to be a story-telling kind of man, but Skinner's deep, baritone voice
soothed him, and he was intrigued by the subject matter, despite himself. "The
warlord had many slaves," Skinner continued, "and he used them all
well. He bought men and women in the slave markets or won them as spoils of war,
and they worked in his house and on his fields, and he worked many of them in
his bed as well. Remember that this was an ancient society, Fox. His slaves had
no choice but to serve him and submit to his will. He wasn't a harsh master but
he was unhappy because despite all his success, he had never been in love. The
slaves came and went from his bed but he barely noticed – one body was so much
like another, and he didn't love any of them – nor did he find any free man or
woman to love either, not even among the nobles with whom he mixed. He had
simply never been in love and began to wonder whether he was even capable of it.
He was an intelligent, literary man, and it pained him that he could not
identify with the great classic romantic stories. It also pained him that the
one thing he was good at was warfare – he knew that he was a genius at that,
and it worried him greatly that he should be good at something so destructive
and yet fail at something as simple and beautiful as falling love. The warlord
became desperate – he tried to find something in his slaves to keep him
interested, but failed. They all bored him and he cast them off, one after the
other, as a result. One day, the warlord went to battle and met the spoiled
young prince of a neighbouring city in a fight. The young man was beautiful and
strong, and he fought well. He wore the most sparkling breastplate, and his
sword was decorated with the most magnificent jewels – all of which made our
warlord laugh. He wore more comfortable clothes in which to do battle - a little
torn in places but weathered and practical. He didn't need adornments – he
knew he was there to fight and to win, and that was what he did. As he fought
the young prince, he decided that when he won he would take this pretty,
overdressed young man as his slave, and enjoy himself with the spoils of this
particular battle." "He
did win, didn't he, Master?" he asked, anxiously. "Yes,
Fox, he did win, and he took great pleasure in stripping the lovely prince of
his fine cloak, his jewelled sword, and his sparkling armour. He tied the
prince's hands in front of his body and then dragged him back to the camp behind
his horse. The prince ran well, the warlord noted, and he often turned back so
that he could see the young man's long legs chase along behind the warlord's
horse, keeping pace with him. When he got back to the camp, he untied the prince
and took him to his tent. He ordered his other slaves to bring warm water and
then he commanded the prince to kneel in front of him. He explained to the young
man that he was no longer a prince – he was now a slave, a spoil of war, and
subject to the whim and will of his new master." Skinner's
hand reached expertly for Mulder's now erect cock and caressed it firmly, and
Mulder sighed and leaned back. "Much
to the warlord's surprise, his new slave didn't protest, or howl, or scream, or
struggle, or complain as many before him had done. Instead, he knelt at his
master's feet, and offered to wash his master's bruised body. The warlord was
taken aback – he had not expected this - but he allowed the prince to wash
him. Then the young man asked for permission to oil his master's battle weary
body, and, surprised once more, the warlord agreed. The prince took a long time
slowly, almost reverentially, massaging his fingers into his master's skin. When
he had finished, he knelt at his master's side, awaiting his orders. The warlord
was delighted. He instructed his new slave to remove what was left of his
expensive clothing, and then he inspected his new slave's beautiful body." Mulder
moaned and thrust up into his Master's hand. Skinner squeezed the top of his
penis hard. "Uh-uh,
boy, not until the end of the story," he instructed. "The warlord took
a long time inspecting the prince – the young man was exquisite, if a little
bruised from battle, and the warlord was delighted with his new acquisition. He
took the young man to his bed, and used him hard, still high from the adrenaline
of battle. He expected his slave to cry out and flinch from him, as so many had
done before, but this strange, exotic new slave responded in a way that none of
his other slaves ever had. Instead of flinching from his master's touch, his
slave returned the warlord's passion with a passion of his own. He begged for
his master's kisses, and covered his master with caresses. When the warlord
finished with his slave the first time, the young man rested in his master's
arms, and kissed him, sighing with contentment. Instead of cowering at the far
side of his master's bed, he stayed close to him, and, when his master had
recovered from his first climax, his slave asked permission to pleasure him
again. He brought his master to climax over and over again during the course of
that night and the warlord was stunned and delighted. He was so strong that his
slaves often feared him, but not this one. This one took all his strength and
matched it with his own. His new slave sighed and moaned in his master's arms
and came as many times as the warlord. He was excited by the warlord's slightest
touch, and begged for more. He begged to feel his master's hard cock in his
mouth and up his ass, begged for his master's kisses – he even begged to feel
his master's whip on his back and butt. The warlord had never had a more
exciting lover, and for the first time he felt the cold around his heart begin
to thaw. Over the course of the next few weeks, he spent many a long hour
pounding into his slave…" Mulder
gave a little cry and struggled hard not to come…this story was turning him on
so much. "And
when they were not making love, the warlord talked to his slave and discovered
an intelligent man like himself, a literary man who shared his love of the
romantic classics. They had so much to talk about that the warlord found himself
growing besotted not only with his slave's beautiful body but also with his
mind…and this scared him." Mulder
groaned, as Skinner dropped the tempo on his cock, soothing it more slowly now. "He
was scared by how much he loved the prince, and, because of his fear, he decided
that he had to remind the young man that he was just a slave. So, he took his
whip to his slave. When he had finished, the prince crawled to his master on his
hands and knees, kissed his whip, and thanked him for his attention. The warlord
was astonished – and even more in love than before. And because he was so much
in love he became jealous, and decided that he must show the world that the
prince belonged to him and was his slave – so he resolved to brand him." "He
told the young man that he was no longer a prince but was now his slave, and he
wanted to put his mark on him to proclaim that fact to the world so that
everyone would know – and, more importantly, so that the slave himself would
fully understand and appreciate that fact as well. The young man trembled but
knelt before his master and kissed his master's feet. He had no choice – his
master wanted to brand him and the prince could do nothing to prevent it. He was
a slave, a possession, a belonging and his master could brand him if it pleased
him to do so. The warlord tied his slave, heated a brand in the fire, and then
pressed it into his slave's flesh as if he were a calf, or some other animal.
When he released his slave, the warlord was amazed when the young man sank to
his knees again and kissed his master's feet. When he raised the prince's head,
his slave's eyes were full of tears. The warlord was filled with remorse but his
slave brushed his concern aside – he told his master that they were tears of
joy because at last his master had chosen to acknowledge his love by placing a
brand on him. The warlord hadn't branded any of his other slaves so the prince
took this as a sign that he was special, and beloved." Mulder
sighed, and grasped his own Master's arm. He stroked it gently, and Skinner
smiled down on him and kissed his forehead. "The
warlord was disturbed and he took himself off to his tent to be alone. He was
afraid. Although he was a big, strong, powerful man he was afraid of his own
emotions because falling in love made him feel vulnerable, and weak. He sank
into a decline, and refused to allow anyone to come near him - but his slave was
not so easily dissuaded, and one night he managed to bypass the guards his
master had placed at the entrance to his tent, crept inside, and knelt at his
master's side, watching him as he slept. His master woke and, in despair, asked
his slave why he was there, and his slave replied: "Where else would I be
but by my master's side?" The
warlord was upset by his slave's words. "You are so devoted to me, despite
everything I do to you," he said, taking hold of the young man's face and
gazing deep into his eyes, searching for an answer to this enigma.
"Why?" His
slave smiled. "Because I know that you whip me and brand me because you
love me, and that makes me happy," he replied. The
warlord shook his head. "I do love you," he said, no longer able to
fight it, and amazed to find that he had finally fallen in love after so many
long, lonely years. "But what I don't understand is why you should love me
when I enslaved you." The
warlord gazed at his slave, shocked. "You gave yourself up to slavery
because you loved me?" He asked, uncomprehending. "Yes,
my lord," his slave replied. "And I have never been happier." The
warlord smiled, finally understanding that in this young man he had found the
ideal complement to himself – the other side of his own coin. He pulled his
slave close. "Even if I whip you, or use you harshly?" he asked.
"You love me, even then?" "That
was beautiful, Master," Mulder said dreamily. "I'm
glad you liked it, little one," Skinner said softly. "I want you to
use it. Over the next few days I want you to remember the prince whenever you
feel that you can't go on, or you don't want to obey me. I want you to think
about the joy he took from his own submission, and I want you to find that same
joy inside yourself." "Yes,
Master," Mulder agreed readily. He wanted that too. "Now…I'm
going to allow you to come, and then I'm going to mark you," Skinner told
his slave. "Yes,
Master," Mulder agreed, no longer protesting. He thought of the prince,
back in a time when he truly wouldn't have had any choice in what his Master did
to him, and he found that thought unbearably erotic. It took no more than a
couple of strokes of Skinner's hand on his hard cock to make him come. Skinner
smiled and held his panting slave against his chest in the aftermath of his
climax. "Good
boy," he murmured. He waited until Mulder's breathing had returned to
normal and then squeezed Mulder's shoulder lightly. "Get up, Fox. I want to
mark you," he said. Mulder
got to his feet quickly, eager to accept his Master's mark onto his flesh. Yes,
his butt was already sore, but he didn't care about that any more. Like the
prince in the story he was his Master's slave and Skinner could do what he
wished with him. He waited, in a dreamlike state, as his Master tied the leather
pouch over his genitals, and he obeyed immediately when Skinner directed him to
lie over the spanking horse. He shivered as he felt the tip of his Master's cane
between his knees. "Well
done, slave. I'm proud of you," Skinner said. "Now, I think it's time
for bed." They
went back downstairs to the main bedroom, and Mulder slid eagerly under the
sheets. Skinner emerged from the bathroom, took one look at his slave, and shook
his head. "On
the floor, pup. You'll sleep at the foot of the bed tonight," he ordered.
Mulder gazed at his Master in dismay – after the day he'd had, he longed to
sleep curled up in his Master's arms. "You'll
sleep in bondage," he instructed. He fastened Mulder's thick, heavy collar
around his slave's neck and then attached the chain to it, and finished by tying
it to the leg of the bed. There wasn't much slack – Skinner had tied his slave
tightly, not giving him much room to move around during the night. "I'll
leave the key here." Skinner put it under his slave's pillow. If you need
to use the bathroom, or there's an emergency, then you can unlock yourself –
but you are forbidden to do so under any other circumstances. Understood?" He
was woken early the next morning, by someone leaning over him and saying one
word in his ear: "Wanda."
Even
half asleep as he was, Mulder rolled immediately onto his front, kicked his
blankets away, and presented himself for his Master's use, wincing slightly as
his hands made contact with his sore, marked bottom. A few seconds later, he
felt his Master's hard cock enter into his body and cried out, welcoming it in,
opening himself up even more to his Master's touch. Skinner had spurned his
slave so many times the previous day that Mulder was delighted to find himself
being so comprehensively used today. His cock was already hard, knowing he was
being of service to his Master, and Skinner made very good use of him, riding
him hard and fast and then coming deep within his slave's body. His Master
lingered there for a few moments, surprising his slave by dropping several
kisses on his back, and then he withdrew. "That
was excellent, boy. I'm very pleased with you," Skinner told his slave
affectionately. He turned Mulder over and kissed his slave soundly. "Time
for a shower – please remember that you are forbidden to touch your cock for
the rest of the day without my permission," he told his slave. Mulder
nodded and followed the big man into the shower. Skinner turned on the water,
pulled his slave in behind him, and then frowned, looking down at his own, now flaccid penis. "My
slave isn't as clean as I'd like," he commented. "I'm
sorry, Master. I didn't have time yesterday to perform my usual cleaning
routines," Mulder said, shamefaced and embarrassed. "Then
today I will take charge of the matter," Skinner told him. "There will
be no spankings today unless you do something to earn them, slave. I'm more than
satisfied with the state of my slave's buttocks this morning. Today we will
concentrate on what's inside instead. Hands against the wall, boy." He
turned Mulder around and pushed him against the tiled surface of the wall.
Mulder put his head back, loving the feel of the warm water washing over him,
and his Master's strong hands playing with his body. He felt his buttocks being
parted, and then Skinner pushed a finger inside him. "This area is going to
get a lot of attention today, boy," Skinner hissed into his ear, only just
audible above the sound of the water gushing down on both of them. "I want
you to focus on this opening, and how it's ready and available for your Master's
use at all times," he purred. "You were a little tight this morning
– probably because it was early and you were surprised, but we'll loosen you
up today. I want to keep you stretched, and I want you to understand that I can
fill you whenever I choose, however I choose, because your body belongs to
me." His teeth closed gently over Mulder's skin, nipping his back as he
roved over his slave's shoulders, one of his fingers sliding in and out of his
slave's anus. Mulder moaned and pushed his ass back, and Skinner wrapped his arm
around Mulder's body and thrust into him several times with his fingers until
Mulder felt as if his cock would explode. Then Skinner withdrew, and handed his
slave the soap. "Wash
us both, boy," he commanded. Mulder obeyed, and then dried his Master. He
was overjoyed that Skinner allowed him to dress him as well, and then he
followed his Master downstairs. Mulder
wasn't surprised when his Master ordered him to kneel beside his chair, instead
of allowing him to sit up at the table, but he did as commanded immediately, and
knelt there peacefully, allowing his submission to wash over him. It felt like
such a relief not to be fighting his Master! His cock stood out proud from his
body, on display for his Master to touch or ignore as he saw fit, and Mulder
felt much calmer than he had the previous day. He was pleasantly surprised to be
fed warm, sweet oatmeal for breakfast, and not salad, and he opened his mouth
obediently for his Master to feed him, keeping his head up and his eyes down
throughout. After breakfast Skinner took his slave by surprise by walking him
along to the little workroom that was next to the laundry room. "I'm
going to make something," Skinner told his slave. "Something
secret," he added. "I want you here, boy, but I don't want you to see
what I'm making until it's ready, so I'm going to blindfold you. A bit of
sensory deprivation will do you good, and you can keep yourself occupied by
imagining what exactly I'm building." "Well,
this has been something I've been thinking about for some time. I bought the
necessary materials some time ago but haven't had a chance to work on the actual
project. Rest assured that it's something very intimate that I intend to ensure
my slave makes full use of." Skinner gave a broad grin, and Mulder tried
not to look as apprehensive as he felt. "You can kneel over here. I'll put
you through all your positions at ten minute intervals. You can start with the
submissive position," Skinner told his slave with a click of his fingers. Mulder
obeyed and a few seconds later a thick, dark, rubber blindfold was placed over
his eyes. It was a very efficient blindfold and Mulder couldn't see anything
around the edges. He knelt for ten minutes, listening to his Master move around
the room. Skinner was whistling softly to himself and a little while later, he
returned to his slave's side. "Grace
position, slave," he commanded. Mulder
got up, shakily, and turned to the wall, which was just behind him. He reached
out fumbling hands, found the wall, and leaned against it, ass out. He heard his
Master move away and then there was the sound of sawing. What on earth could
Skinner be making, Mulder wondered? A paddle? They had plenty of those upstairs
so why would his Master need to make one? Anyway, there had been too much of
that wood for just a paddle. The blindfold was a strange sensation. It really
did make Mulder focus on the sounds in the room, and the feel of his own body,
naked, his ass pushed out and exposed to the room. He was woken out of his
reverie by a swat from his Master's hand on his butt. "All
right, boy, confessional position," Skinner ordered and Mulder got into
position quickly. He wasn't sure how many hours were spent changing positions in
this way, listening to his Master work, and wondering what on earth the big man
was making. Mulder lost himself in the fantasy of visualising his Master's
strong arms as he worked on the wood. In his mind's eye he could see a bare-chested Skinner leaning over whatever he was building, lovingly working the wood
with those blunt capable fingers, in much the same way as he lovingly worked his
slave, his burly forearms rippling, effortlessly
pushing the plane down the wood, brow furrowed in concentration, little curls of
wood shavings clinging to his chest hair...
The smell of sawdust filled Mulder's senses, making the fantasy image seem
achingly real. He longed to be able to sit in silent contemplation, studying his
Master at work, and yet curiously found that being denied that simple pleasure
was somehow the gateway to his submission. He settled into it, accepting it, and
felt a calmness descend on him that seeped all the way into his body and gave
him a feeling of genuine peace. He felt at one with his Master, felt as if he
had contributed somehow to whatever it was his Master was making, and that he
was a vital part of that creation. They
broke for lunch, which Mulder ate at his Master's knee in the dining room, still
blindfolded, trying to identify each new taste, and sometimes failing. It was
amazing how hard it was to guess what some foods were by taste alone, but
thankfully his Master only fed him one thing that he disliked – although the
big man insisted that he swallowed down the broccoli without complaint. They
spent some more time in the workroom in the afternoon, and then, after much
sawing, banging and sanding, Skinner seemed to be satisfied with his creation. "Stay
here. I'm going to put this in the living room. I'll be back in a minute,"
Skinner informed his slave. Mulder was tempted to peek when his Master had gone,
but he figured it wasn't worth it – the item, whatever it was, was gone, and
he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell what his Master had made just by examining
the sawdust. Skinner returned a few minutes later, and took his slave's arm. "We're
going up to the Playroom, boy," he said. "I'm going to keep you
blindfolded – I think it'll help focus your mind on the sensations in your
body." Mulder
cock leapt at that and he docilely allowed his Master to lead him up the stairs
and into the Playroom, all the time wondering what erotic delights his Master
had in store for him. Skinner
escorted his slave into the Playroom's en suite bathroom, and Mulder frowned,
wondering what on earth was going to take place in here. His heart sank as he
was bent over the side of the bathtub and a nozzle was pushed into his ass. A
few seconds later he felt a flood of warm water in his bowels and he gave a
little exclamation. "I
can't!" Mulder protested, disoriented, wondering where the toilet was. "Yes
you can." Skinner grabbed his slave and held him. Mulder
tried to remember to breathe as he held on, trying to ignore the sensation in
his bowels. He knew what Skinner was attempting to do – first he removed his
slave's sense of vision, making him dependent on his Master, and then he
demonstrated the level of control he had over his slave, even down to the most
fundamental of bodily motions. Mulder rested his chin on his Master's shoulder,
giving in and accepting. "Please…soon…"
he whispered. "Another
minute. Hold it," Skinner told him. Mulder
found the strength from somewhere to obey and when the minute was up his Master
led him to the toilet and allowed him to relieve himself – only to then push
Mulder over the bath and repeat the process, much to his slave's dismay. Skinner
went through the whole thing a third time, by which time Mulder had become more
familiar with the sensations and less panicky, but all the same he was very
relieved when his Master handed him a towel and told him it was over. Skinner
gave his slave a kiss as a reward. "Good
boy – you're now all clean and ready to use the new toy I made for you,"
he said. He took Mulder's arm again and led him back down the stairs to the
living room. "All right, boy, kneel in the submissive position, then I'll
remove the blindfold so that you can appreciate my handiwork but afterwards it
goes back on. I think you benefit from being blindfolded." Mulder wasn't
too sure about that but he had to admit that it did focus his thoughts inward
and he was starting to enjoy the hazy darkness, and lack of visual stimulation.
He knelt and then held his breath as he felt his Master stand behind him.
Skinner removed the blindfold and Mulder blinked – and then gazed at what was
in front of him. It looked like a seat, attached to a pole, and sticking out of
the centre of the seat was…a large dildo. Mulder glanced up at his Master in
alarm. "I've
got to sit on that?" Mulder squeaked. "You've
taken bigger." Skinner raised an eyebrow. "It pleases me to have you
on display, and to know that you will be constantly thinking about what's inside
you, boy. I'm going to start you off this afternoon. You'll be here for quite
some time so I want you to relax and learn from the experience. In a moment I'll
put your blindfold back on, and then I'll seat you. Once you're in position you
will remain as still and silent as possible. You will only talk if in distress.
Whenever you hear me walk past, I want you to open your mouth, in case I should
wish to use it." He gave a broad grin and Mulder swallowed hard. "It's
diabolical, Master," he said, somewhat awestruck. "You
like it then?" Skinner asked. "I thought you would, little one."
He glanced down at Mulder's straining, erect cock with a delighted smile. Mulder
watched as his Master placed a condom on the dildo and lubed it thoroughly, and
then his blindfold was replaced and his Master ordered him to his feet. He was
ushered over to what his Master had dubbed the 'peg seat' and he was lowered
over it. "Hold your ass cheeks apart…that's good," Skinner said, as
he eased his slave down. "Shit!"
Mulder complained as the broad dildo distended him. "Keep
going." Skinner pushed him into place, so that the dildo completely filled
him, and then he bound his slave's hands behind his back, and fastened them to
the pole. Mulder settled down cautiously, with a grunt. The dildo was hard and
unyielding and it felt different to wearing a butt plug – because the dildo
was stuck into the surface of the chair and didn't move with his body so he had
to be careful to sit up straight and not move around or it poked him. "Oh
that's good…that's beautiful. You make a sight for sore eyes," Skinner
told his slave, and then he kissed Mulder firmly on the mouth. "How does it
feel?" Skinner
laughed. "Ah, I can tell you like it as much as I do! Now, be still, slave.
And remember that I will expect your oral services at frequent intervals." Mulder
nodded, feeling utterly aroused by the whole scenario. He listened to his Master
walk over to the couch, and imagined what he must look like to the other man.
The large dildo served to keep the nature of his servitude constantly in mind -
it wasn't painful but it was uncomfortable – and it was certainly impossible
to think of anything else except the fact that he was sitting impaled on a
dildo, especially as he was blindfolded so he couldn't even look around the
room. There
was silence for a long while, and then Mulder heard his Master get up from the
couch and walk over to him. He opened his mouth immediately, and was rewarded
when he felt his Master's large, velvety cock pressed against his lips. He
sucked enthusiastically for several minutes, enjoying the dual sensations of the
dildo up his ass and his Master's big cock in his mouth. Skinner thrust into his
open mouth for several long minutes and then withdrew without coming. Mulder
closed his mouth and settled back with a sigh. This was good! This was better
than he could have expected. He praised his Master mentally for his truly
perverted imagination in coming up with something this utterly depraved and
delicious. He wasn't sure how much time passed but then he heard Skinner again.
He opened his mouth, feeling a bit ridiculous, but this time Skinner walked past
him and he was left disappointed. Soon his Master returned and again he opened
his mouth, but once more he was ignored, and left, jaw open, like a hungry
goldfish. He closed his mouth and bowed his head. He could feel himself fitting
into his slavery, like a hand into a glove, being embraced by it, pulling it
over him like a second skin. This was beautiful. The silence, the bondage, the
intrusion in his ass, being dependent on his Master's every whim...he loved it.
He was a slave, the young prince of the story, waiting to be of service to his
Master, waiting, hopefully, to worship his Master's cock with his mouth. He
couldn’t stop concentrating for a second – he was utterly consumed by the
knowledge of his slavery, and was on constant tenterhooks knowing he might be
called upon to pleasure his Master at any moment. Another noise and Mulder
opened his mouth – and this time he was rewarded when Skinner entered him
hard. His Master tangled his hands in Mulder's hair and fucked his mouth for a
long time and Mulder opened up and allowed his Master to penetrate deep into his
throat, adoring the scent of his Master's cock, which he often didn't notice
because he was too engrossed in the other senses of sight and touch. The
movement of his Master's cock in his mouth made his ass move on the seat and
that made the dildo press inside him, and Mulder felt as if he was lost in his
slavery. This was so good…for the first time in a long time he felt himself
reaching that beautiful, serene state that came whenever he gave himself up to
deep submission.
Skinner made good use of his slave's mouth for the next few hours. He kept
Mulder blindfolded and immobile and used him frequently, never staying long
enough to come. Mulder abandoned himself to his slavery, losing himself in it,
becoming utterly at one with it. He existed to serve, he was his Master's slave,
and his Master's pleasure was his sole concern. Every second when his Master was
not using him was one he spent in yearning, longing to feel that beautiful
velvety cock in his mouth once more, hoping that his Master would soon bless him
with his presence again. And then, finally, Skinner returned. Mulder opened his
mouth and his Master fucked him harder than ever before, thrusting into him in a
way that was almost savage, not allowing his bound, blindfolded slave any
control, forcing Mulder to surrender everything which he did – willingly –
and he was rewarded when his Master came in his mouth, his salty come sliding
down Mulder's throat, much to his slave's profound joy. Mulder
wasn't released immediately after his Master's climax, and he felt strangely
grateful for that. He needed those extra few minutes to savour the taste of his
Master's come in his throat, and to remember the feel of his Master's cock
thrusting into his waiting, willing mouth. He needed time to resurface from the
blissed out state he was in, and to slowly come to. Skinner gave him that time,
and, after perhaps half an hour or so, Mulder felt himself coming slowly back to
life. He moved his shoulders and sighed, and then let out a startled yelp as
something whiskery and wet tickled his inner thigh. "Oh
shit…Wanda…your timing, as always, is impeccable," Mulder groaned. He
heard his Master give a loud guffaw but Wanda continued her nuzzling, clearly
keen to investigate the new seating arrangement in the room, and the strangely
bound and naked slave who was occupying it. "OW!
Oh, please, Master," Mulder begged, as Wanda's whiskers tickled his
sensitive inner thigh area unmercifully, and her wet nose nudged perilously
close to his genitals. His Master took pity on him and whisked Wanda away, then
returned to untie his slave. He went slowly, standing over his slave, his
clothes brushing Mulder's body. He dropped several kisses on his slave's face as
he untied him, and then, slowly, and very carefully, he helped Mulder to stand.
Mulder gave a gasp as he was pulled away from the dildo. His ass muscles ached
from being distended for so long – something he hadn't even been aware of when
he was in his blissed out state of total serenity. Skinner held him up,
supporting him as he stood, and Mulder swayed, disoriented by the blindfold and
his return to normal existence after the past few hours of unreality. Skinner
pulled him close, and held him gently but tightly while Mulder readjusted and
Mulder hung onto his Master, reassured by those big, warm arms, holding him up. "That
was good, boy – you did so well," Skinner murmured lovingly and Mulder
felt his heart swell with pride. "I'm very pleased with my boy. He's
brought me a lot of pleasure today," Skinner whispered, stroking his slave
in a proprietary way. "In a moment, I'm going to allow you to see again. I
want you to prepare yourself for this, Fox. You've spent a long time blindfolded
so you need to take your time to get used to being able to see again. I've
dimmed the lights and I want you to close your eyes while I remove the
blindfold." Mulder
nodded, astonished to find himself trembling as Skinner carefully removed the
blindfold. The air felt strange on his face, and Mulder felt almost naked
without the blindfold. "How
was that, little one?" Skinner asked gently, tipping his slave's chin and
dropping a tiny kiss on Mulder's lips. "Mind-blowing,
Master…" Mulder sighed dreamily and rested his chin on Skinner's
shoulder. "I
can see that." Skinner grinned. "I
love you, Master," Mulder murmured, angling his face sideways, somewhat
hopefully, for another kiss. He wasn't disappointed. "I
love you too, slave," Skinner told him solemnly when he released his
slave's face several seconds later. Mulder
felt almost profoundly changed by the day's sensory deprivation. Skinner had
succeeded in taking him down and he felt a sense of peace and calm deep inside.
He would have been quite happy if his Master had branded him there and then, but
Skinner was by nature more cautious than his slave, and he clearly didn't want
to rush things. After dinner, he tied his slave to the foot of his bed as usual,
and chuckled when Mulder closed his eyes immediately, completely worn out by the
day's events. Skinner
continued to wake him with the ' Wanda' command and Mulder found he was now so
keyed into his Master's pleasure and wishes that he obeyed instinctively, even
when roused from the deepest sleep. By dint of some hard work, Skinner kept
Mulder permanently immersed in his submissive state for the next few days,
alternating hard demands on his slave, with impossible heights of sexual arousal
– which were never allowed to reach fruition. "I
want you to save this – I have something special planned for it," Skinner
told his slave, tapping Mulder's eager, expectant cock, as his slave moaned and
begged for climax. Mulder had never felt happier surrendering his sexual release
to his Master. Giving over control of his climax reinforced his own slavery and
kept him constantly on edge…and he was full of tingling anticipation for when
he would finally be allowed to come. His Master wouldn't tell him when that
would be – he only promised that it would be an experience Mulder would never
forget – and it wouldn't take place until after his slave had been branded. "You'll
never again come as an unbranded slave," Skinner told Mulder firmly.
"Next time I allow you to come you'll be my branded slave," and Mulder
shivered, aroused, excited and scared by those words all at the same time.
"And it'll be very, very special," Skinner promised solemnly. Mulder
nodded, more than happy to wait in the circumstances. "Just
to make sure that you don't come by mistake…" Skinner held up the plastic
cock cage and Mulder submitted to having his genitals firmly constrained within
it, effectively preventing him from attaining a full erection. He could pee
through the device, but not come – it was frustrating and arousing at one and
the same time and Mulder found himself loving the restriction. Mulder
lost track of time over the next few days. He was totally absorbed in the
enchanting possibilities of his own submission. He wouldn't have wanted to spend
his entire life in this state, serenely, dreamily at peace with himself,
relieved of the responsibility for any aspect of his life, unable to take even
the most simple decision about what he would eat and when he would go to bed –
but for a short period of time it was incredibly restful, and he could feel his
batteries recharging almost tangibly. The days became a blur – sometimes he
was bound onto the peg seat again, and at others he was commanded to present
himself when his Master used the 'Wanda' word on him. They spent hours in the
playroom, with Skinner tying his slave into all manner of different positions
and playing with his slave's body at length until Mulder had no resistance to
anything his Master did to him – he surrendered everything up to the other
man. There were times when his Master left him alone in the Playroom, just
facing the window, naked, adorned, but unchained, his ass freshly spanked,
gazing out on the world below, lost in thought. Mulder didn't know where his
Master went during those times and didn't question. He remained in position, at
peace, and utterly in thrall to his Master. The following day, his Master took his slave to the Playroom, made him kneel, and brought out the bullwhip. Mulder stared at the whip, mesmerised by it.
"I know you've been fascinated by this particular implement for a long
time," Skinner told his slave. Mulder nodded, his throat suddenly dry.
"I did once promise you a long session with it – but I also promised that
you'd be in the right place mentally to deal with that," Skinner purred,
circling his slave. "You
can do whatever you want to me, Master. I'm yours," Mulder said softly,
although his heart still did a little flip. He was scared and exhilarated at the
same time. He was fascinated by the bullwhip – he'd only ever received a
couple of light taps from it, but he longed to experience it more fully. He had
an image of himself as the prince once more, in a cruel, ancient world, where
slaves might be whipped with such an implement for their disobedience. "Maybe,
Master," he whispered. "I'm
not giving you any choices at the moment, slave," Skinner told him firmly.
"You'll accept it if I choose to whip you with the bullwhip, just as you'll
accept whatever else I do to you. You belong to me, Fox." "Prepare
yourself, boy," Skinner ordered, "submissive position – head back,
eyes down." Mulder obeyed and heard his Master go over to the cupboards
that ran along the wall and open them. There was some rustling and a few minutes
later his Master returned. "All
right – you can break position. Eyes up and look at me," Skinner
commanded. Mulder
obeyed – and his jaw dropped open. His Master was wearing thigh length black
leather boots that accentuated his long legs. He was also wearing a pair of
tight black pants and an even tighter sleeveless mesh tee shirt that showed off
his bulging biceps to perfection: he was, in short, every inch the warrior
warlord come to life. Mulder couldn't stop himself bending forward and kissing
those shining boots reverentially. "Kiss
it," he ordered, and Mulder obeyed, gladly, kissing the whip over and over
again. "Good boy." Skinner shook the whip out and lazily snapped it in
Mulder's direction. It wrapped around Mulder's body, not hurting, just
caressing, the leather soft, supple and deadly against Mulder's naked flesh.
Skinner circled Mulder again, soothing him with the whip, stroking it over his
slave's body until Mulder started to whimper. "Please
what, slave?" Skinner demanded. "What do you want?" "You
want to taste my whip?" Skinner asked, standing over Mulder, stern and
demanding. "Yes…please…"
Mulder begged. "You
want to feel it sear my mark into your skin?" "Yes!
Master…please!" Mulder kissed his Master's boots again, lost in the
scene. "Stand
up, slave," Skinner ordered and Mulder did so, trembling. "Go and
stand in the centre of the room. I will see if you are worthy to receive my
whip's kisses," Skinner said in a low growl. Mulder scrambled to obey. He
stood in the centre of the room, waiting, shaking in earnest now. His Master
looked at him and he felt his nerves begin to steady. "Keep your arms by
your sides, and stay perfectly still," Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed.
"Good." Skinner grinned, and raised the whip. Mulder closed his eyes,
shaking with fear and arousal. A second later he heard a sharp crack and then
the whip folded around him and he found his arms pinned to his body. Mulder
opened his eyes in alarm to find himself being dragged towards his Master, his
entire body in the whip's bondage, unable to move his arms. Skinner pulled him
close, caught him, and kissed his slave firmly on the lips. "Good
boy," he said approvingly. "Again." Mulder
wasn't sure how many times they played that particular game but he stood in the
centre of the room over and over again while his Master practised his skills
upon him, always wrapping the whip around his slave, and drawing him back in for
a kiss. It didn't even hurt beyond a slight sting as the whip first wrapped
around him and Mulder stopped closing his eyes and instead watched, marvelling
at his Master's skill. Finally Skinner was satisfied. "Now,
slave, as you've been so good, I think I'll give you what you want,"
Skinner told him. "Your Master will whip you. I'll take a long time, Fox,
and I'll give you plenty of time to scream and recover between each stroke…but
you have no choice as to when this will end, little one. I'll whip you for as
long as it pleases me." Mulder
felt as if he had been abandoned in limbo and the next few seconds seemed to
last for an eternity – and then he heard a loud crack and a sharp stinging
sensation on his buttock. He gave in to the emotion of the moment and howled,
and, true to his word, Skinner let him scream. Only when he had quietened down
did the next lash fall on his shoulder blade. His Master started very slowly,
giving little licks between the harder ones, taking his time, flicking lazily at
his naked, bound slave, or swinging harder, drawing forth a scream from his
slave's lips. And Skinner stopped frequently, and came to stand behind his
slave. He caressed Mulder's sensitised skin lovingly, dropping frequent kisses
on it, sucking and nibbling. Often he would lick at a welt he had just made, and
Mulder felt so aroused he was relieved that his Master had imprisoned his cock
in the plastic chastity device to ensure that he couldn't come. The bullwhip
hurt but only in a stinging way – and his Master wasn't using anything like
his full strength – yet. Somehow Mulder had the feeling this wasn't a state of
affairs that would last. He was right. As Mulder became fully warmed up, the
strokes fell harder and faster on his naked, exposed body making him moan and
squirm under the lash. Mulder was crying all the time now, transported to an
amazing high, the endorphins sending him into the stratosphere as the pain
merged with the most astounding pleasure. He saw himself; tied, naked, utterly
subject to his Master's will and whim, completely unable to stop the torment. He
was the prince from the story – he had no choice. His Master truly could do
anything he wanted with his slave. It was all out of Mulder's hands. He could
only endure. His
Master's stern voice was with him throughout, calming and comforting him. "You
look so beautiful under the lash," Skinner murmured. "I'll have to
whip you more often. The way your body moves…ah, if only you could see the red
lines I'm painting on your white flesh, boy. That's it, scream…your Master
loves hearing you scream…" Mulder
obliged, screaming with sheer arousal and need, wanting to feel those little
flashing licks landing on his body. He couldn't predict where they would fall,
and they hurt so much, and yet they made him feel so warm and blissful. The
strokes grew heavier and faster, with less time between them, and Mulder was
lost in the sensation, totally absorbed in it as he writhed and squirmed under
his Master's bullwhip. Finally, after what seemed like a whole day, his Master
dropped the pace, and then slowed completely to nothing, and, finally, he came
over to his slave and caressed him again. He kept one arm around Mulder as he
unhooked his slave from the post and Mulder dropped immediately against him.
Skinner deposited him gently on the floor and looked down on him. "Kiss
the whip, boy, and thank me," he ordered. Mulder
looked up at his magnificent Master, utterly consumed by love. "Thank
you, Master. Thank you!" He whispered as he kissed the leather whip,
shivering as he realised that it was warm from tanning his own hide. He kissed
it over and over again and then transferred his attention to his Master's shiny
boots. His Master crouched down in front of him, took his slave's face in his
hands, and looked into his eyes. Mulder saw his own reflection in his Master's
irises. His hair was sweaty and dishevelled but his eyes were bright and
sparkling with life. "Still
with me, boy?" Skinner asked. "Yes,
Master," Mulder replied dreamily. "Hmmm…well,
only just," Skinner laughed. He disappeared into the bathroom and Mulder
heard the sound of the bath filling, then Skinner came back and helped his slave
to his feet. He opened the cupboard door and showed Mulder his reflection in the
mirror. "Admire your Master's handiwork, boy," he ordered and Mulder
did just that. His back and buttocks were covered with a myriad of small red
welts – he had imagined the damage was so much worse when his Master had been
whipping him, but Skinner had, as always, been careful to provide the maximum
sensation with the minimum amount of damage. "They'll
last for a few days," Skinner murmured, fingering the welts, making Mulder
shudder and hold onto the big man in order to stay upright. His entire skin felt
so sensitive that the least touch set his nerve ends jangling. Skinner
didn't torment him for too long, and he soon escorted Mulder into the bathroom
and helped his slave into the warm bath. Mulder howled out loud as his skin made
contact with the water, but his Master was insistent. It didn’t take long for
the unpleasant sensation to subside, to be replaced by a feeling of warmth and
comfort as he floated happily, caressed by the warm water. He watched, hungrily,
as his Master undressed, and then Skinner climbed into the bath with him. He
took his slave in his arms, seated Mulder between his legs, and they both lay
back with a sigh. Mulder didn't think he'd ever felt closer to his Master. "Thank
you," he murmured. Skinner
chuckled and kissed his slave's cheek. "You're welcome, boy," he
replied. Mulder
drifted along on the endorphin haze incapable of coherent speech. A few moments
later he gazed at his Master again. "Thank
you," he whispered once more. "I
know that you're very grateful," Skinner grinned, "but hush, boy. Just
let yourself come down gently. Here… this might help." He carefully parted his slave's buttocks, and eased his hard cock between them.
Mulder surrendered, all too willing to being impaled, loving the sensation of
his Master's big cock as it slid inside his hot, tortured, thoroughly whipped
skin. Skinner embedded himself fully into his slave's ass and then held his
slave close, his arms wrapped around Mulder's stomach, his slave's hot back
pressed against his chest. Mulder closed his eyes and laid his head back on his
Master's shoulder, utterly at peace with the world. His Master didn't thrust
inside him – he just held his slave fully seated on his Master's cock, the two
of them, Master and slave, joined, connected, and as one together in the warm,
comforting water. The
following evening, Skinner took Mulder completely by surprise by laying out some
clothes on the bed. "Get
dressed, boy. I'm taking you out," he said. Mulder
stared at his Master, confused. They'd had such a peaceful time alone together
in the two apartments that he wasn't sure he wanted the outside world to
intrude. Skinner wasn't giving him any choice in the matter though. "Get
dressed, then come and dress me," he ordered. "Oh, and you can lose
the cock cage." He undid the plastic cage imprisoning his slave's cock and
threw it on the bed. "But you're still forbidden to come!" He told his
slave, disappearing into the shower. Mulder
picked up the clothes that had been laid out for him. They were pretty basic –
a pair of black jeans and a black waistcoat – there was no underwear or shirt,
so Mulder guessed that they wouldn't be going anywhere very conventional. His
heart began to thump loudly as his mind kicked into gear: Was Skinner taking him
somewhere to be branded? Had the time come? And if so, where was he being taken?
Not to Murray's place, surely, with the other top still convalescing. Maybe,
Elaine's house – she could host the branding in her boudoir…and who would be
there? Mulder's heart thumped even faster. He wasn't sure he was ready for this.
It was one thing to be completely and utterly his Master's slave here in the
apartment, but he was worried that going out into the world would ruin the haze
of submission he was currently in. It might break into the mood, and jar the
beautiful bond they had built up between them. Still, he had no choice, so
Mulder pushed his fears to the back of his mind and got dressed. Then he went
into the shower, and dried his Master as he emerged. Mulder was surprised to see
the outfit Skinner intended to wear – it was exactly the same as his own, and
that gave Mulder a frisson. He eagerly dressed his Master, and then they
surveyed themselves in the mirror; Master and slave, both dressed in plain black
jeans and black waistcoats, their well toned biceps and just the hint of
pectorals clearly visible. Skinner's chest was covered in curls of hair, while
Mulder's was smooth – and the beautiful fox tattooed on his Master's chest
seemed to be peering out just over the top of the other man's waistcoat. There
was something incredibly erotic about the sight of the pair of them dressed like
this. "We
look good, don't we?" Skinner grinned at his slave. "Yes,
Master." Mulder grinned back happily. He was just an inch or two shorter
than his Master, but much slighter, and the contrast between them was
highlighted by their identical clothes. "You'll
see," Skinner replied over his shoulder. He picked up the bulging black bag
that he'd left in the doorway, slung his arm around his slave, and escorted him
out of the apartment. Skinner
drove them to a leather bar just out of town. Mulder knew the place as they drew
up – it was the kind of bar where people who weren't serious players hung out.
They were wannabes, people who liked to dress up but who didn't know much about
proper BDSM play. Mulder had frequented the place for only a couple of weeks
when he was new to the scene and soon figured out that this wasn't the right
place to meet the really serious players. He glanced at his Master wondering why
the Guardian of the House would choose to come here. It was so far removed from
the real scene that nobody here would even know who Skinner was! Mulder began to
wonder whether that might not be the point. Skinner had clearly chosen to bring
him somewhere where neither of them would be recognised, and where there would
be no expectations. Mulder grew more and more curious about what his Master's
intentions were. "By
my side, slave," Skinner said, as they got out of the car, clicking his
fingers. "Remember who and what you are." He squeezed his slave's
nearest butt cheek firmly to remind him and Mulder felt reassured. He was his
Master's slave: here, there and everywhere as Skinner so often quoted to him.
The evening, whatever it held, did not have to be an ordeal as long as he
remembered that basic fact. Skinner handed his slave the bag and Mulder
shouldered it silently, wondering what it contained. They
walked into the bar, and almost immediately there was a noticeable dip in
conversation and noise as the men inside checked out the two newcomers. Both
Skinner and Mulder were too attractive to go unnoticed, especially in their
matching outfits. Mulder wondered if it was obvious which was the Master and
which the slave – he felt sure it was. What was noticeable to him was how much
confidence they both had in their roles. Mulder knew what was expected of him
and he went to find a seat for his Master immediately while Skinner bought the
drinks. His Master brought two large glasses of coke back to the table and sat
down, while Mulder knelt beside him, placing the bag by his Master's feet should
the big man need it. Their actions were so in sync with each other that they
could almost have been choreographed. Skinner sipped his coke for a moment,
surveying the crowded room and staring down anyone who looked at his slave for
too long, while Mulder knelt in the submissive position, head up, eyes down, and
waited for further orders. After a while, his Master clicked his fingers and
Mulder looked up, alert to Skinner's every need. His Master handed him his coke
with instructions that he could drink, which Mulder did, gratefully. It was hot,
and the floor was dusty. "Hey,
cute boy," he cooed. Mulder
ignored him, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on his Master. "Doesn't
he talk?" The man glanced at Skinner. "No.
He's my slave. He'll talk only to me," Skinner replied, sipping his coke. "Your
slave?" A sly grin appeared on the other man's face. "Is he for sale?
I'd give you a couple of hundred bucks to have him for an hour." "He's
not for sale," Skinner said curtly. "Aw,
come on – where's the fun in that?" The man persisted. Skinner got up
very, very slowly, drew himself up to his full height and looked down on the
other man. "He's
not for sale," he repeated. "Not for an hour, not for a day, not for a
lifetime – not even for a second." "Okay,
okay." The stranger held up his hands and glanced around. "I was only
asking! I mean for fuck's sake…you come in here looking like this and you say
the boy's a slave. Who wouldn't ask for a piece of that ass, huh?" Skinner
moved his hand slightly, and the man flinched and backed off. "I'm
going!" he said quickly. Skinner waited until he was out of sight before
sitting again. He rested his hand reassuringly on Mulder's head and tousled his
hair gently. Mulder trembled. He loved it when his Master was possessive. "Very
impressive…got any other moves," a tall, skinny, mustachioed man asked
casually. "Or are you all talk and no play, hmmm? That would make Jack a
very dull boy!" "Oh
yeah," the man grinned, "but…" He put a hand on Skinner's arm
and Mulder stepped forward between the stranger and his Master feet warningly.
The man hastily removed the hand and Mulder stepped back behind Skinner once
more, satisfied that his Master wasn't being threatened. "I was just gonna
say that it'd be a shame to hide you two in that little room. I own this place
– so I'm going to clear you a space over there, on that raised area, where
everyone can see you. Then we'll see whether you boys are just for show or
not." It was said politely, but it was definitely a challenge. Skinner
raised an amused eyebrow. "That
sounds fine," he said. "Bring me a post – I'll need something to tie
my boy to." Mulder
swallowed nervously, wondering what his Master had planned for him, but Skinner
fondled his butt reassuringly, and Mulder's nerves subsided. Whatever Skinner
had planned, it was out of his hands. He belonged to his Master who could do
what he liked with his slave, either privately or in public.
"Look
at me, boy," Skinner said softly, and Mulder did so. His heart did a flip
as he watched his Master unpack a variety of disciplinary implements, some
cuffs, and a couple of candles from his bag. He laid them out on the table, one
by one, taking his time, talking to Mulder in low tones throughout. It could
have been a totally private scene for all the notice Skinner took of the crowd
watching them. An eerie hush had fallen over the room but Skinner wasn't
hurried. He took a long time laying out his equipment, and he insisted that
Mulder watch him. He seemed unconcerned by the audience and didn't play to them.
Mulder started to relax, tuning out the crowd, focussing instead on his Master's
every move. His heart did another flip as Skinner took out the bullwhip. "Front
and centre, boy," Skinner ordered and Mulder went to stand in the middle of
the platform. Skinner raised the bullwhip and Mulder waited…and a few seconds
later there was a loud crack, and he found himself wrapped in the whip. There
was a gasp from the crowd and a smattering of applause as Skinner pulled him
forwards, kissed him, and then snapped his fingers. Mulder sank to the floor
without saying a word. "Good boy," Skinner said soothingly, gently
massaging Mulder's neck with his fingers. "Eyes on me now. Keep them on me
throughout." Mulder nodded and gazed at his Master intently. Skinner
ordered him back into the centre of the room and repeated the whip manoeuvre –
this time to even more applause as people got into the swing of things. "Very
nice," the bar owner said from his vantage point on the edge of the
platform. "But it's just a trick. Got anything more impressive than
that?" Mulder
could have sworn he saw Skinner's mouth turn up at the edges in a wryly amused
smile but his Master ignored the other man completely – his attention was
fixed solely on his slave, and Mulder's on his Master. Mulder
nodded, never taking his eyes off his Master. He began unbuttoning the waistcoat
slowly, teasingly, using all the provocative skills his Master had taught him
during their time together. He knew how to put on a good striptease and this was
what his Master was asking from him. He finished unbuttoning the waistcoat and
let it slide from first one shoulder and then the other. Vaguely, in the
distance, he was aware of the room going completely silent, and could feel
hundreds of hungry gazes focussed on him, but there was only one gaze he was
interested in, and that was the dark-eyed gaze of the man standing in front of
him. Mulder twirled the waistcoat on his finger and then dropped it onto the
table, before reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans. He moistened his lower
lip with his tongue as he worked the zipper down, wriggling his ass, going very
slowly. Finally he slid the jeans down his long legs, and turned to present his
ass to his Master as he bent over to step out of them. He turned back again
fast, so that the watching crowd didn't get more than a glimpse of his genitals,
and then knelt at his Master's feet, his nose pressed into the other man's
crotch hopefully. He was very aware that he was naked, but it meant nothing to
him beyond the fact that he was naked for his Master. The watching crowd
almost didn't exist for him. Skinner
smiled, bent down, and kissed his slave to steady and reassure him, and Mulder
nudged up, wanting more, always eager to be caressed by his Master. Skinner drew
back, and reached for the cuffs on the table. He clicked his fingers and Mulder
held up first one wrist and then the other. Skinner then moved the post into the
centre of the platform, before attaching his slave to it. He spent some time
fastening Mulder's cuffs, talking to his slave constantly. "Good
boy. I want to play with you now, Fox. Just give yourself up to me. Take
everything I do…and stay relaxed. You'll be fine." Mulder
smiled dreamily and bowed his head. He knew he would be fine. He trusted his
Master implicitly. He was more aware of the crowd now, as he was displayed,
naked and tied in front of them for their entertainment. He heard his Master go
over to the table and a moment later Skinner returned with a small snake whip.
He showed it to his slave, and then began tapping him with it, taking his time,
building the tension in the room. Mulder surrendered to it, throwing back his
head and moving his body rhythmically in time to the light swats. Then it got
serious. Skinner snapped his wrist and the whip flashed across his buttocks,
drawing a line of fire there. Mulder moaned, seriously aroused. His cock rose in
its gold cock ring and Mulder was glad that his Master had removed his chastity
device. He knew he should be embarrassed to be displayed, naked and erect in
this way, in front of all these strangers, but he wasn't. A part of him loved
it. It was a part he had never had the courage to explore before – another,
more timid side of himself always stopped him from enjoying events like this one
– he fantasised about them but when he had his own free will he had never had
the courage to participate in them, although he had watched often enough and had
wanted to so much. Now his Master was demanding this of him so he had no
choice – and he was finally able to give in and surrender to the pure pleasure
of it, his exhibitionist side titillated by the watchful gazes of all these men.
This was more erotic than the pony race had been - or even the slave auction.
Everyone's gaze was fixed on him – and he was also being lovingly whipped by
his strong, powerful Master. Mulder felt himself responding to Skinner's every
slight touch, every hard stinging blow of the whip, every murmured order or
lovingly given caress. He abandoned himself to his Master and felt a sweet
serenity well up inside him. After a while Skinner stopped whipping his slave,
and another hush descended over the room as his Master lit a candle. Mulder held
very still as his Master came over to him, and showed him the candle. He looked
into his Master's eyes and smiled. "Thank
you, Master," he whispered, nodding slightly. Skinner kissed him, and then
began waving the candle over his slave's naked body. Nothing happened at first,
and then Mulder felt the first sting of the hot wax as it landed on his
buttocks. He gave a cry and stiffened in his bonds and his Master soothed him
with his hands. Another drop of wax, and he writhed, trying to escape from its
molten heat but to no avail. His Master soothed him again but a few seconds
later more wax descended on his naked body and he cried out loud, throwing his
head back, his cock proudly erect in front of him. He could almost feel the
audience reaction as they drank in the scene – the quiet, powerful, totally
confident Master teasing the most beautiful, erotic responses out of his slave
as he played with him. Mulder felt a surge of warmth and wriggled his body
excitedly. He was enjoying this! And so, judging by the rapt silence, was their
audience. The
wax torture continued for a long time, the droplets falling onto his skin more
frequently as Skinner upped the ante and now Mulder was wriggling and squirming
the whole time, dimly aware of how this displayed his entire body. Then,
finally, it was over. Skinner blew out the candle and his slave hung, exhausted
in his bonds. "Good
boy," Skinner came to stand behind him again. "Ass out." Mulder
obeyed and Skinner slid a lubed finger into his slave ass, and just held it
there. It was a moment of the most sublime and intimate intensity for slave and
Master. The angle at which they were standing made it almost impossible for
anyone to see what they were doing – his Master's large body blocked the view,
and Mulder knew this was an act meant for him and him alone. His Master was
confirming the bond between them, reminding his slave that this place in
Mulder's body was for him and him alone – as well as, of course, making it
clear to Mulder that he had complete mastery over his slave and could enter him
whenever he liked, however he liked – that no part of his slave's body was
denied him. Skinner was talking all the time, whispering in his slave's ear,
although Mulder couldn't really hear what he was saying. He was just aware of
that finger lodged deep inside him, keeping him still, and making him sweat.
After several long minutes Skinner withdrew his finger and wiped his hand on a
cloth. He untied his slave and Mulder slumped against him, wondering if it was
over. Skinner took his slave in his arms and held him against his chest, so that Mulder was facing out to the audience. Skinner displayed his slave's charms thoroughly to the watching crowd, his hands covering Mulder's body with the confidence and ease of a Master totally in tune with his willing slave. Mulder leaned back against Skinner's chest, and his Master grasped his nipples and began squeezing. Mulder gasped, and bucked in his Master's arms, surrendering to the pain and the pleasure at one and the same time. The audience were a dim blur in front of him, the sea of faces all running into each other, and although Mulder knew they were all watching him, he was just aware of his Master's hands, claiming his slave's body. Skinner's hands were relentless, teasing his cock and balls, pinching his nipples hard then tickling them softly, sliding down over his abdomen, covering, and owning his slave completely and Mulder lay back limply in his Master's arms, taking it all, giving everything he had to his Master. Skinner's hand movements slowed, and then he moved his head so that his lips were by Mulder's ear and said just one word: "Wanda."
Mulder didn't hesitate. He knew he was in a room full of people, and that this
was the most intimate command his Master could give him, but he sank immediately
to his knees, his front to the audience, his back to Skinner, and used his hands
to open his buttocks so that his Master could use him if he wanted. The audience
gazed at the tableau, clearly wondering what was going on, and why the slave was
abasing himself in this way, and it was only then that Mulder realised that his
Master had cleverly got him into position so that only he would see
Mulder's most private of places. Skinner didn't make him hold position for long.
A few seconds later he slapped his slave's ass, then pulled Mulder to his feet
and kissed him lovingly, signalling that the scene was at an end. The
audience erupted with a wild roar of approval, breaking the spell that had
transfixed them since the beginning of the scene. They clapped their hands and
stamped their feet but Skinner took no notice of them and, taking his cue from
his Master, Mulder ignored them as well. He knelt by his Master's side as
Skinner returned the equipment to the bag, and, at a click of his Master's
fingers he got dressed. He picked up the bag and followed Skinner as he began to
walk down the stairs of the raised platform. "Wait!" The bar owner grabbed Skinner's arm and then released it again as Mulder gave a low growl. "Sorry…but you can't just leave! That was fantastic. Please – I'll pay you to do another scene. I've never seen anything like it. It was mind blowing!"
"Thank you, but we’ve got to go," Skinner said formally. "The
scene is over. We don't perform for money." "At
least tell us your names!" Someone called. Skinner
smiled and shook his head. He clicked his fingers again and Mulder fell into
step behind his Master. People parted in front of them as if in awe, and they
left the bar without looking back. They got into the car, and it was then that Mulder noticed that a crowd of people had tumbled out of the bar to watch them go. "You do know that you just created a legend at that bar don't you?" Mulder said. "You'll be remembered for all time as the mysterious stranger who came among them and showed them what a really good scene should be like." "Not just me. You were the other half of that legend, Fox," Skinner said with a smile. "You were superb tonight, little one. I can't tell you how proud I was of you. You did everything perfectly – you were the slave I've trained you to be and the one you always wanted to be in your heart."
"Thank you, Master." Mulder smiled back, feeling warm with the praise.
For the first time he had obeyed the Wanda command outside of the apartment
immediately, without questioning it, and he remembered that his Master had once
said that if he ever did that he would finally, truly be his Master's slave.
Mulder sat back in his seat with a dreamy smile, and let his hand rest on his
Master's thigh as the other man drove them home. It
was late by the time they got back, and Mulder helped his Master to undress then
removed his own clothing and settled himself down at the foot of the bed,
waiting for his Master to fasten his chain for the night. Skinner crouched down
beside him, a loving smile on his face. He touched Mulder's cheek gently. "You
know, slave, I think that as a reward for your superb service to me this
evening, that you should be allowed to sleep in the bed," he said softly.
Mulder sat up, surprised. He hadn't even asked, and yet his Master was offering
to grant him the one thing he knew that his slave loved – sleeping by his
Master's side, in his Master's bed. "Thank
you," Mulder whispered, bending his head to kiss his Master's toes. Skinner
allowed the devotion for a few seconds, and then he held out his hand. Mulder
took it, eagerly, scrambled to his feet, and slid into the bed. He resolved
never, ever to take sleeping in this bed for granted. It was a boon, granted by
a loving Master, and Mulder was fully aware of just how great an honour it was.
Skinner got in beside him, turned of the lamp, and reached for his slave. Mulder
went happily, loving nothing more than to feel his Master's large arms clasped
around him. He wondered whether his Master would use him – Skinner had been
very sparing in his use of his slave of late, as they explored the wider aspects
of Mulder's slavery, and Mulder had missed feeling that large cock in his body
several times a day. Skinner didn't use him though, he just nuzzled up to his
slave, holding him tight, his hands wandering idly over Mulder's body, fondling
here and there but not enough to be a serious prelude to sex. "I'm
very proud of you, Fox," Skinner said and Mulder was surprised to find that
his Master's voice was hoarse with emotion. "This evening was one of the
best of my life. You were so beautiful, your responses so perfectly tuned to me
and what I was doing to you, your attention fixed so completely on me. I felt as
if I was playing a musical instrument, and each note was clear and perfect. It
was the culmination of my years as a top, of what I learned from Andrew, and
what I've tried to teach you. Thank you, Fox," he whispered in a husky
tone. Mulder
turned and faced his Master, overwhelmed by the occasion. "Thank
you," he said. "For showing me how to be what I most wanted to
be and then for revealing just how good it can be as well." Skinner
leaned forward a little way in the dark and caught his slave's mouth with his
own, then proceeded to kiss him for so long, and so thoroughly, that Mulder
thought he might pass out. Mulder
was woken the next day by something warm and wet on his cock. He gave a startled
cry of surprise, and then realised his cock was being vigorously sucked by his
Master. He relaxed, opening his legs and enjoying the sensation. His Master did
occasionally please himself by giving his slave oral sex and Skinner was a
maestro at it. Mulder's sleeping, semi-erect cock soon hardened into a full
blown erection and he moaned as his Master lavished attention on it, sucking,
deep-throating, and licking until Mulder was on the verge of coming – at which
point his Master withdrew. Mulder sighed – much as he longed to come, he knew
that was forbidden until after he had been branded. Skinner slid up the
bedclothes and surfaced beside his slave. "Thank you, Master," Mulder said dreamily.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, slave – because I did." Skinner licked his
lips like the cat that got the cream and Mulder laughed. "I wanted you nice
and turned on, boy, because there's something I wish to do to you." "What,
Master?" "I
want to make love to you – and I want to take a very long time about it. I
thought, as a warm up, that a spanking would be in order." Skinner threw
back the blankets and Mulder felt a waft of cold air on his body. "On your
front, slave. Your Master intends to make very good use of you today,"
Skinner warned in an ominous tone. Mulder felt a shiver of arousal and it was
all he could do to stop his still rampant cock from spasming and coming there
and then. He rolled onto his stomach and relaxed, giving himself up to his
Master. He still felt on a high from the previous night and it was so easy
surrendering himself to his magnificent Master. He could hardly understand why,
just a few short days ago, he had found it so difficult. He hoped that Skinner
would ride him hard and use him well – he longed to feel his Master's hard
cock inside him, longed to open up his body and be of use to the other man, to
devote himself to his Master's pleasure. Skinner
leaned over his slave, and his tongue found a slightly raised welt – a legacy
of the previous night's whipping. Mulder made a little sound in the back of his
throat. It always turned him on unbearably when Skinner sucked on the marks he'd
placed on his slave's body. Skinner held him down, although in reality they were
now so perfectly attuned to each other that it only took the lightest touch for
Mulder to respond to whatever his Master wanted of him. He loved being so in
tune with the other man's needs and orders – it felt so easy, as if they
flowed into each other and were a part of each other. Skinner spent a long time
sucking on the marks on his slave's bottom, and then he drew back, and,
straddling his slave, he bestowed several light taps on Mulder's backside.
Mulder's skin was still sensitive from the previous night and he wriggled and
writhed, staying still enough to accept his Master's swats, but moving around
enough to give his Master a pleasant view – Mulder knew how much the sight of
a squirming ass aroused his Master. Skinner gradually built the spanking to a
climax, slapping harder and faster, the palm of his hand flashing up and down.
Mulder glanced back over his shoulder and saw that his Master's hand was almost
a blur as he worked on his slave's exposed butt and Mulder began crying out and
wriggling in earnest now, although he couldn't go anywhere as his legs were
firmly pinned down by his Master's weight. Finally, when he knew his ass had to
be glowing a sweetly rosy hue of red, the onslaught stopped. His Master dipped
his head and licked the warm flesh like a cat and Mulder mewled like one as
well, adoring the attention and starting to get high as the endorphins kicked
in. Then his ass cheeks were parted and his Master entered a lubed finger inside
his slave. Mulder sighed and opened his legs to facilitate an easier entry and
Skinner finger fucked him for a long time, going at a slow, leisurely pace. "Move
with me, slave. Become one with me," Skinner invited, opening his arms, and
Mulder sat up and wrapped himself around his Master's body. They kissed for a
long time, and then Mulder moved down to suck his Master's nipples, while
Skinner moaned, and stroked his slave's hair. Mulder pushed his Master back onto
the bed, and busied himself sucking and licking the other man's magnificent
body, and then Skinner pulled his slave down on top of him and they rolled over,
wrapped in each other's arms, kissing and nuzzling, both of them totally lost in
their love making. They moved together, as Skinner had requested, each of them
giving of himself totally, and after half an hour or more this, Mulder knew the
time was right, and, moving perfectly in sync with his Master, he laid down on
the bed, opened his legs wide, and guided his Master's hard cock into his anus.
Skinner flowed into Mulder like a river, easily breaching the ring of muscle,
and then sliding home, snug, right up to the hilt, his body rocking in time to
that of his slave. Mulder gasped, and clung into his Master's arms, loving the
sensation of that beautiful, warm, hard cock filling him. Skinner dipped down
and kissed his slave firmly on the lips, his pulsing cock unmoving inside his
slave's waiting body. Mulder moaned, and offered himself up into that kiss and
then, slowly, Skinner began to thrust back and forth. He was true to his word,
and went infinitely slowly, never taking his eyes off his slave as he moved
within Mulder's body. Mulder arched his back and felt the sweat pouring off his
forehead. He was making strange, animalistic noises in the back of his throat
and his every sensation was filled by his Master's presence. Skinner's cock in
his ass, Skinner's tongue claiming him in a kiss, or teasing one of his nipples
with each slow forward thrust, Skinner's musky, sexual scent, filling the air
around him, Skinner's voice, murmuring to his slave, Skinner's burly forearms on
either side of Mulder's torso, bulging as they held his Master up. Skinner was
everywhere and everything to him and it was intoxicating. The sex was so slow as
to be almost dreamlike. Each lazy, measured thrust stimulated Mulder unbearably
and his cock screamed for a release he knew it would not get, and that just
aroused him even more. Time stood still, and ceased to have any meaning –
there was just a slave and his Master, joined together in a beautiful communion. Finally,
after what felt like an eternity of slow thrusting, Skinner speeded up the pace,
and then, not long after, came deep within his slave's body and Mulder cried out
the climax with his Master, feeling it in tandem with him so closely were they
connected. A bright white light flashed behind Mulder's eyes and he couldn't
see, couldn't hear anything, could only feel that large cock still lodged inside
him. After what felt like another age, he felt his Master withdraw and could
have wept from the loss of that warm, claiming cock. Without it he felt
incomplete, and it was all he could do not to go down on his hands and knees and
beg Skinner to fill him again. Mulder turned his head towards the window. He
wouldn't have been surprised if night had fallen and they had spent the entire
day in that one long marathon love making session, but, to his surprise, it was
light outside. "Thank
you, Master," he whispered fervently, as Skinner took him in his arms. "Your
litany, slave," Skinner asked, as his slave washed him. "I
belong to you, Master. I'm your slave. I exist to serve you. All that I am
belongs to you. My body, my heart, my mind, my soul. I love you, Master."
Mulder bent to kiss his Master's toes and then knelt up and washed his Master's
penis reverentially. "Good
boy," his Master said approvingly, tousling his slave's wet hair. Mulder
got to his feet and Skinner pulled him in for a long, wet kiss, and then he
turned off the shower and led his slave out into the bathroom. Mulder knelt and
dried his Master, still lost in a blissful haze of serenity. Skinner then
ordered him to dry himself, while he dressed in sweats. He returned to the
bathroom when Mulder had finished, took hold of Mulder's face, and looked into
his slave's eyes. "Yes,
Master," he agreed, moving his face forward to meet the other man's lips.
They kissed, and then Skinner drew back, took hold of his slave's hand, and led
him out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and up the stairs to the Playroom.
Mulder followed, still lost in a dream. He didn't even think about what was
going to happen – he was just happy to abandon his fate to his Master's hands
and take whatever it pleased his Master to give him. Skinner kept hold of
Mulder's hand all the way up to the 18th floor apartment, a gesture
not of fear that Mulder might draw back, but of companionship, shared
experience, and reassurance. Skinner opened the Playroom, and ushered Mulder
inside and Mulder went and knelt immediately in the centre of the room in the
submissive position without being told. "You
can look around, boy," Skinner said softly, and Mulder did so – and then
gave a little gasp. Skinner had clearly gotten up early and decorated the room
in preparation. It was warm in here and Mulder could smell the heat of the
brazier, which was no longer hidden behind the screen but instead took up centre
stage, next to the massage table. The blinds were all drawn, adding to the
impression of intimacy, and his Master went around and lit every single candle
in the room, making it glow. "Sit
on the table," Skinner ordered and, still in a dream, Mulder obeyed.
Skinner caressed the side of his slave's face. "I'm going to brand you with
my mark, little one," he said softly. Mulder nodded, trembling slightly,
not from fear but from the intensity of the situation. "I
want you to understand that I'm doing this not to cause you pain, although it
will hurt, little one, but because through the fiery pain of branding you will
come to bear my mark on your flesh. You can wear it as a badge of honour – if
it were painless there would be little pride to be taken from the mark,"
Skinner told his slave. "You must go through the ordeal and come out the
other side a more worthy slave than before; cleansed, reborn, and more fully
your Master's slave than ever before." Mulder
closed his eyes and leaned into his Master's hand, Skinner's words washing over
him like rich, warm, molten chocolate - sweet, dark, beguiling and utterly
satisfying. "I'm
not giving you a choice, Fox," Skinner told him, as he began to strap his
slave down onto the table. "You have no choice. I'm branding you because it
will please me to see my mark on your body and to know that you are my branded
slave." He
watched as his Master walked over to the cupboards and drew out a pair of
leather trousers. Skinner removed his sweats and slid the trousers up his long,
lean legs. Mulder feasted on the sight, and Skinner went slowly, ensuring that
his slave got a good view. Then Skinner stripped off his tee shirt, and grabbed
a bottle of oil from the cupboard. He came over to his bound slave, and,
standing right in front of Mulder, he began to oil his magnificent chest and
arms. Mulder watched, transfixed by the eroticism of watching his Master prepare
himself for branding his slave. Skinner's hands rubbed the oil into the tattooed
fox on his chest and Mulder felt his heart leap; just as his Master had gone
through a painful ordeal to bear a visible token of his love for his slave, so
the slave would endure a painful ordeal to do the same for his Master. He had
seen the tattoo rarely over the past few days, as Skinner had mostly been
dressed when in his presence, or Mulder had been blindfolded. Now he feasted on
the sight of it, a tangible reminder of why he was about to undergo this
branding. Skinner
finished oiling himself and returned to his slave’s side. He stroked his hand
over Mulder’s cock, which sprang eagerly to life, still semi-erect from the
morning’s love-making, and easily aroused into full erection both by the
scenario and his Master’s attention to it. Then Skinner turned to the little
table next to the massage couch, which held a variety of different pots and
jars. Skinner opened one of them, took out a cotton ball, doused it in
liquid from one of the other pots, and then pressed the cotton ball against
Mulder’s thigh, where he would brand him, sterilising the area thoroughly. He
took his time, and was firm and masterful but at the same time caressing
and loving, a mix that made Mulder relax, his cock still standing stiff and
hard in front of him. Skinner finished sterilising the area, and walked towards
the brazier. He pulled on a thick glove, picked up the iron that was warming in
the fire, examined it intently, and then held it out for his slave to view.
Mulder could feel the heat emanating from it and the elegant 'S' glowed
white with the intensity of that heat. "My
mark. 'S' for Skinner. 'S' for slave," Skinner told him. "Yes,
Master." Mulder remembered the story of the prince and the warlord and
found in it a parallel with his own situation. The prince had no choice – his
master had branded him because it was his will, and they lived in a time where
even if the prince had refused, the warlord would have taken no notice and
proceeded anyway. That thought comforted him for some reason. He was a slave who
was being prepared to take his Master's mark. He would be proud to undergo the
pain in order to bear that mark. It was his right and his destiny and he longed
to fulfil it – and his eager cock told him he was very happy with that
destiny. Skinner returned to iron to the fire, and Mulder watched the other
man's oiled muscles ripple as he moved. The waves of heat obscured his Master's
body somewhat, making the big man a large, hazy presence, and Mulder had never
felt more impressed by that large, solid chest, and the long, lean legs. His
Master was every inch the perfect Master – who would not want to bear the
brand of a man such as this? Mulder would welcome it into his body, no matter
how much it hurt. "Remember,
slave, you can scream all you like – be honest and open in your
responses," Skinner said. "Yes,
Master," Mulder whispered, beyond any speech save the absolute basics. He
gazed at the iron, transfixed, and then back at his Master. Skinner's dark eyes
were fixed on him. "Look
at me, boy. I'm going to take the iron out of the fire now, and mark you." Mulder
nodded, his throat dry. He watched, as if in a dream, as his Master withdrew the
white hot iron from the fire and then walked slowly, as if in a procession,
around his slave to the right side of his slave's body. Mulder could feel the
heat now, coming closer, and closer, and then Skinner came to a halt beside his
slave's body. He held the iron a few centimetres away from the flesh on Mulder's
thigh into which he would sear it, and looked at his slave intently. "Look
at me, not the iron," he commanded and Mulder managed to tear his eyes away
from the iron itself and look into his Master's dark eyes. "What are
you?" Skinner asked. "Your
slave," Mulder replied, lost in his Master's gaze. "Who
do you belong to?" Skinner asked. "You!" Mulder replied. "You, Master." "What can I do to you?" "Whatever you like, Master. My body is yours to do with as you wish."
"Good boy. What I wish to do is to mark your flesh with my iron, to brand
you as my slave for all the world to see, and to sear in your mind as much as I
sear into your flesh, that you are mine for all time. I want you to look down
and see my mark on your body and understand that basic, fundamental truth: you
belong to me, boy. You’re mine in times of crisis and in times of pleasure,
mine to love, to play with, to enjoy - mine for all time." Mulder
nodded, his throat dry, and his cock still hard, utterly lost in the moment. He
was his Master’s slave and he longed to bear his Master’s mark on his skin
for all time. He was immobile, surrendered to his Master’s will, and Skinner
had never looked more the magnificent Master as he did at this moment in time,
with his oiled torso, and the look of love and determination in his eyes. “I’m yours, Master,” Mulder whispered, “please…brand me.”
Skinner positioned the iron over his slave’s thigh – Mulder could feel the
heat of it and almost passed out just from knowing it was there and that this
moment was finally about to happen. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear the
wait any more, Skinner moved his arm forward forcefully. Mulder
cried out loud, never taking his eyes from his Master's face. He could have
sworn that the iron was lodged in his flesh for hours – or at least a minute,
although later Skinner told him it was only 2 or 3 seconds at the very most.
However even that short a time felt like an eternity as the fiery kiss of the
iron claimed him and time seemed to slow almost to a standstill. He cried out
loud, tried to move, to do anything to dislodge the burning metal from his flesh
but he couldn't move, couldn't do anything except scream and gaze into his
Master's eyes and accept his Master's will. It was those dark eyes that anchored
him and reassured him throughout, despite the pain, and he was transfixed by
them, relying on that steady, loving gaze to keep him calm. There was an odour of burning flesh,
and still that branding iron seemed to be there, sunk deep into his body,
claiming him, consuming him, and owning him utterly and completely and Mulder
surrendered to it, offering himself up to his Master's brand. Then
it was gone. His Master replaced the iron in the brazier and returned to his
slave's side but Mulder barely registered that the iron was no longer in his
flesh – he was still screaming both from the pain of it and as a release from
the sheer intensity of the moment. Skinner stroked his slave's sweaty face, and
kissed him softly, murmuring to him the whole time, and Mulder started to calm
down. He knew that his face was streaked with tears and sweat but he was proud
beyond belief. He had endured it! He was a marked slave! He looked down, eager
to see the mark on his body but his Master blocked his way. "Not
yet. Lie back and recover first. Get your breath back. You did well, little one.
I'm very proud of you." Skinner's
dark eyes looked suspiciously glassy, as if he was holding back tears of his
own. He smoothed Mulder's hair out of his eyes, all the time whispering
encouragement and endearments to his slave and Mulder smiled happily at the big
man. The endorphins started to kick in and Mulder felt as high as a kite. Yes,
his thigh still hurt, but he was too high to care. He was dimly aware of Skinner
rubbing something lightly onto the new brand and there was a momentary sting,
followed by a numbing sensation. Mulder didn't ask what it was, and nor did he
care. He just smiled insanely at his Master, giddy with joy. Skinner returned
the smile, his whole face lighting up, utterly overjoyed by the occasion and
Mulder knew he wasn't the only one who had been deeply affected by it. His
Master cupped his slave's face in his hands and they stayed there for a couple
of minutes, as one, at rest, both exhilarated by what had passed between them,
and what it symbolised. After
about half an hour, Skinner untied his slave, with strict instructions that
Mulder should not move. Mulder obeyed, gazing stupidly at his Master. "Okay."
Skinner took hold of Mulder's hand. "You can look at it now, boy."
Mulder glanced down and fell immediately in love. The brand was perfect. The
skin was raw and red and he guessed that it would take some time to heal but the
brand itself was so elegant and beautiful – just the kind of mark he would
have expected his Master to put on his body, and completely different to the
ugly jagged scarring that Krycek had initially left him with, until Perry had
cleaned up that wound. "Beautiful." Skinner traced his fingers over the 'W' on his slave's lower abdomen and then moved his finger over to his slave's right side. He didn't touch the brand, just rested his finger next to it the S. "Both my initials printed in your skin for all time," he whispered. "Oh god. I love it," Mulder whispered, utterly overwhelmed. "It's so perfect."
"Good." Skinner smiled, and rested his forehead briefly against his
slave's. Mulder felt exhilarated by the occasion and filled with an odd energy.
"Now, I think I told you that the next time I'd let you come it would be as
a branded slave," Skinner said, his hand going to Mulder's cock. Mulder
felt his penis respond eagerly, as always, to his Master's touch. He was amazed
that he could feel so horny after so much intense pain but he did – he felt
utterly alive, as if the heat that had penetrated his skin had gone right the
way through into his veins. "So…lie
back…" Skinner lowered the massage table and then, as his slave watched,
he removed his leather pants, and stood, magnificently naked, before Mulder.
"I don't want you to do anything," Skinner said. "Just enjoy –
let your natural responses happen, whatever they are." He
swung his leg over his slave's body so he was straddling him, taking care not to
let his thigh press against Mulder's new brand. Then he parted his own buttocks
and sank done on Mulder's hard cock, guiding it into his body. Mulder cried out,
completely dazed by the honour his Master was showing him. He so rarely got to
serve his Master by giving him anal sex that he appreciated just how big a deal
this was. Skinner slid down firmly onto his slave’s hard cock, still in charge
even though he was the one being penetrated. He rested his hands on his slave's
body and squeezed his slave's nipples lightly. "Hmm, this reminds me of
another important occasion," Skinner said, teasing Mulder's nipples, and
then pinching them more firmly. Mulder growled and thrust up, almost overwhelmed
by the overload of sensations - being buried in his Master's warm, tight ass,
his burning thigh, and the pain in his nipples. He squirmed and that just
excited his cock even more. Skinner was merciless – he slid up and down on
Mulder's cock for a long time, always stopping his motion just before his slave
was about to come. He waited until Mulder had stepped back from the edge of
climax and then began riding him again. Mulder gazed up at his Master in awe.
Skinner's body was so large, his muscles rippled so beautifully beneath the
oiled golden skin and he rode his slave so expertly. Mulder reached out and
touched his Master's tattoo lightly, smiling to himself. Skinner grinned at him,
and, leaning forward, deposited a kiss on his slave's lips. Mulder moaned and
opened his mouth, and his Master obliged by pushing his tongue inside. They
kissed while Skinner squeezed his ass muscles around his slave's hard cock, and
then he drew back and rode his slave once more, pinching his nipples with each
downward slide, until Mulder began to scream out loud and then he was lost in
his own ecstasy and a few moments later he came – loudly and violently, thrust
deep inside his Master's body – and, more importantly, he came for the first
time as a branded slave. Skinner
stayed where he was, straddling his slave's body for a long time, and then,
finally, he slid off Mulder's softening cock. Mulder was dimly aware of his
Master disappearing into the bathroom and the sound of water splashing and then
the big man returned to his exhausted, sated slave and ran a wash cloth over
him, taking care not to disturb his newly branded flesh. Finally, while Mulder
still recovered, Skinner pulled on his gray sweatpants and white tee-shirt, and,
still barefoot, returned to his slave's side. "Are
you back with me now?" He asked, grinning. "Sure,"
Mulder replied hazily. "What's
your name?" Skinner demanded. "No
idea," Mulder slurred happily. "Your
name is Fox William Mulder, and you are my branded slave," Skinner told him
firmly and Mulder gave a huge, beaming smile. "Oh.
Yeah," he muttered. “I remember that last bit!” "Hold
still. I'm going to lift you," Skinner said. He moved forward, and picked
up his slave in his big arms. It never ceased to amaze Mulder how strong his
Master was, and he submitted, feeling like a huge bag of jelly, to being picked
up, carried out of the Playroom, and along the corridor to the upstairs lounge.
Skinner deposited his slave on the couch and Mulder gazed round the room
blankly. It was decorated with garlands and tinsel, and, in the corner of the
room, next to the roaring log fire, was a huge Christmas tree, with a pile of
wrapped presents underneath it." "Yes
it is." Skinner smiled. "Merry Christmas, Fox." He sat down on
the couch beside his slave and pulled Mulder to rest against his chest. "Today."
Skinner nodded. "The fridge is fully stocked with food. I thought we'd eat
later on this afternoon." "You
certainly do, boy." Skinner grinned back, giving his slave a big, wet kiss. "When
did you do all this?" Mulder asked, astounded, glancing around the room. He
noticed Wanda stretched out in front of the fire, seemingly elongated to four
times her normal length, looking as utterly blissed out as he felt right now.
"And when did you buy all the food?" "During
those times when you were standing with your butt on display looking out of the
windows in the Playroom," Skinner told his slave, one arm wrapped around
Mulder's chest and shoulders. "I finished off this morning, while you were
still sleeping. I got up early. I wanted this to be a very special day. You were
so ready for this, Fox." "I
know. I enjoyed it too." Skinner looked pensive. "It
was harder for you – you had to plan it all, and gauge my reactions,"
Mulder commented. "Hmmm?"
Skinner looked down on his slave. "Oh…yes. That wasn't always easy. I
wanted to make sure that this time it was right for you. I screwed up last time
we attempted it and I wasn't going to have that happen again," Skinner said
firmly. "There were times when I wondered if you were going to go down with
me, or keep fighting me, but in the end it worked out just fine." "That
story about the prince and the warlord was amazing, Master. It really helped.
Did you just make it up?" "It
was fantastic. I hope you let me make up some horny stories with you at some
point, like you did with Andrew," Mulder requested. "I like the idea
of that." "And
the club…maybe we could do that again one day?" Mulder asked. "My
little exhibitionist!" Skinner grinned and tickled his slave. "I'll
think about it, but I'm not sure I liked all those men leering at my
property." "I
needed to see how into your role you were – and how easily you might be jolted
out of it. There was no use you being in deep submission if you came out of it
the moment I took you near the branding iron. I wanted to ensure that you could
stay in the right headspace even under extreme conditions – and you did. In
fact you did it remarkably well. I knew then that I could brand you today as I'd
hoped to. What about the branding, Fox? Was it everything you wanted it to
be?" Skinner
smiled back in return. "Yes, Fox. It was so intense, and it was better just
being the two of us. I know you wanted me to brand you in front of everyone and
I thought you might be disappointed that I changed that to a private
scene." Mulder
grinned, stupidly, barely able to take his eyes off the brand on his skin. He
felt ridiculously high – not just from the pain endorphins, but from the
knowledge that he had undergone something this profound. He had walked into the
fiery furnace and emerged stronger and more certain than he had been before –
and more totally in love with his Master, if that were possible. Skinner had
been right – it had to hurt that intensely in order to mean something - and
because of that it had been somehow transforming; he felt as if he was new born. "Okay,
we have some presents to unwrap." Skinner got up and retrieved a pile of
presents from under the tree. "Most of these are from me, but there's one
from your geeky friends, and a little something from Mrs. Asher - and Scully and
Doggett dropped something by for you the other day when you were in deep
submission. Sorry I couldn't let them see you." Skinner smiled
apologetically. "There's something from Elaine, and Hammer and Murray sent
their usual case of champagne, which I'll open in a minute. Oh, and Ian and
Perry said they'd drop by tomorrow if you're up to receiving visitors." "We'll
see. You might come crashing down with a bump but Perry gave me some strict
instructions for your aftercare so I think you'll be all right. I’d also like
him to take a look at my handiwork to make sure everything is healing
okay." Skinner sorted through the parcels, found one wrapped in purple
paper with a large purple bow and gave a gentle little smile. "And this one
is from Tabi," he said softly. "For
me?" Mulder was surprised. "Yeah."
Skinner handed it over to his slave and Mulder gazed at his Master, completely
overcome. Mulder
ripped into it eagerly, and unwrapped a book and something soft, wrapped in
tissue paper. The book bore the legend: "UFO's – Fact, Fantasy, and
Myth. By Samantha Skinner." Inside was an inscription: "To my
new big brother, Fox. Happy Christmas! Lots of love, Tabi." Mulder
bit down hard on his lip. He opened the tissue paper and found a cashmere
sweater inside, in shade that was a cross between petrol blue and deep sea
green. A note fell out: "I thought it would suit you – I loved the
colour. Oh, and the book is a stupid thing I wrote a couple of years ago but it
seemed appropriate! Hope to see you soon. Tabi." "We'll
phone her later to thank her," Skinner said softly, seeing his slave's
reaction. Mulder nodded, unable to speak. "And you can wear the sweater
when we eat – I'll let you get dressed for that…although later on I’ll
want you naked again. I want to have something good to feast my eyes on.” "Yes,
Master," Mulder whispered. Skinner
sat down on the couch again and pulled his slave onto his lap. Mulder lay there,
naked, and at peace with himself and the world. He kept glancing down
surreptitiously to see the brand on his thigh and it gave him a thrill each
time. "I'm
sorry…I did order you a present, Master…but it hasn't arrived yet. Or at
least I don't think so." Mulder looked up at his Master. He'd been in such
deep submission for the past few days that he wasn't sure whether the package he
had been expecting had been delivered or not. "I'm sorry. I wish I had
something to give you today," he murmured. Skinner laughed, and his hand
went down to rest next to Mulder's brand. "You did, Fox," he whispered into his slave's ear. "You already did."
Friendly, branded feedback to Xanthe@xanthe.orgTo see a very erotic and naughty NC17 pic by JenR that goes with the sex scene at Tabi's house, click here. Warning - very explicit! 24/7 is concluded in Part 26: Here, There And Everywhere
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