It wasn't an easy three weeks, but Mulder had never been more proud of his Master as Skinner struggled to regain his mobility. The problem was that on a good day he'd be walking almost as well as he had been before the Consortium had infected him, but the following day he might have a total relapse as his nerve endings flared up again, and even putting weight on his feet was an unbearable agony. It was disheartening for both Mulder and Skinner to have their hopes dashed; one moment they'd be celebrating a day of near normalcy and the next Skinner couldn't walk without leaning heavily on his slave – as he refused point blank to use the wheelchair again.

However there was a slow, steady improvement – and that was largely down to the big man's sheer force of will. Now Mulder could appreciate Tabi's comment about how his Master had recovered from his terrible injuries after Vietnam. It was testament to Skinner's strength of character that he forced himself to get back on his feet again for the second time in his life.

Skinner hadn't wanted anyone knowing about his recovery – he wanted to concentrate on it without any distractions and the only visitor he allowed was Tabi. Mulder had left his Master and his sister alone for an entire afternoon when she visited, and he suspected they'd done a lot of talking about Vietnam. She was looking suspiciously red eyed when she left, but very happy.

"Thank you," she whispered to Mulder, giving him a heartfelt hug on her way out. She didn't say anything more – she didn't need to. They both knew what she was referring to.

"Y'know," Mulder commented one day two weeks later as Skinner completed another set of punishing exercises aimed at restoring the muscle tone in his legs and aiding his co-ordination. "I think you're going to do it, Master. The wedding I mean. I think you're going to walk Elaine to the altar." He was crouched down beside his Master, naked, helping Skinner with his exercises.

"I said I would," Skinner growled. "Only don't tell her that." He paused in his exercises for a moment, sweat running down his forehead, and gave his slave a grin. "I want to surprise her. Tell her we'll be there, but don't tell her I'm back on my feet."

"Ah, you always were the Master of surprises," Mulder said, with an appreciative smile. "Speaking of which…what exactly will we be wearing to the wedding, Master?"

"Uh-uh." Skinner shook his head. "You'll find out on the day, boy, and not a moment before. Now, why don't you go and stand facing the wall, legs apart, ass out, so I have something nice to look at while I'm doing my exercises."

Mulder rolled his eyes but ran to do his Master's bidding all the same.

By the following Friday, Skinner was able to walk almost normally. He still got tired easily, and his right leg sometimes gave way unexpectedly, causing him to stagger, or even fall if there was nothing to hold onto, but he was at least mobile again. Mulder didn't want to ruin his laconic exterior by appearing to be excited by anything, least of all a wedding, but the truth was that he was looking forward to it and woke up on the Saturday with butterflies in his belly.

He gave his Master his usual wake up call, then started to get up – until Skinner pointed out that he was two hours early, and insisted his slave get back into bed. Mulder lay there, utterly unable to keep still, wondering what kind of a costume his Master had ordered for him to wear at the ceremony which wasn't going to take place until later that evening.

"Is my ass going to be on display?" He asked.

"What?" Skinner growled into his pillow.

"At the wedding. In the costume you had Elliott and Donald make for me. Is my ass going to be on display? Only, it's a pretty cold day – it's been snowing – so, I'm not sure that would be such a good idea."

"Oh, we can *always* find ways of warming up your ass, as you well know, little one," Skinner said dangerously, placing a hand on Mulder's bottom to illustrate that point.

"Hmm." Mulder wasn't too thrilled by the way that had gone. "Okay, what about my chest…or my…oh god…I'm not going to be naked am I?" He asked with a little whimper.

"Who knows?" Skinner said grumpily, burrowing his head into his pillow.

"You do!" Mulder remonstrated. "And what will you be wearing? Will we match?"

"Oh, I think people will be able to tell who is the Master and who the slave," Skinner said with a little chuckle. "Now, will you be quiet so we can get some sleep?"

"I've never been married," Mulder mused thoughtfully. "You have. What did you wear then?"

"Something very conventional," Skinner snorted. "Because that was a normal, regular wedding and this, my noisy slave, will be a scene wedding. So, I think you can take it as read that you won't be wearing a black tux. Now be quiet."

"Did you get Elliott to adjust the size of your costume?" Mulder continued, ignoring his Master's order. "Only you did lose quite a bit of weight when you were ill, and I know Elliott wouldn't want you to be seen in public in an ill fitting…what? Tux?"

"Elliot's made some adjustments to the costume," Skinner replied patiently. "And as for whether it's a tux or not…you'll just have to wait and see."

"Did you say Donald and Elliott would be bringing our costumes over?" Mulder asked. "Or are we going to collect them? Because if we are I think we should get up now."

"You have the closest thing to a photographic memory of anyone I ever met," Skinner pointed out. "You know that I said they're being delivered. You're just fishing for information, boy."

"I was just wondering what time, and whether we should, you know, be getting up, because…"

"Wanda," Skinner said, suddenly and unexpectedly, in Mulder's ear.

Mulder had learned, during his time as Skinner's slave, to never question or delay his response to that command, and even though he suspected Skinner was only saying it to shut up his slave, he immediately backed up against his Master under the warm sheets, and pulled his butt cheeks apart to facilitate his Master's insertion into his body. A few seconds later he felt his Master enter him, hard and fast. Skinner placed his hands on Mulder's hips and pumped into his slave vigorously, sending all thoughts about the day ahead from Mulder's mind as he found himself able to focus only on how insanely pleasurable it was to feel Skinner's thick, hard cock thrusting in and out of his body. His own cock was semi erect but he knew it would get no release. He also knew that Skinner's climax would be a long time coming because he had already brought his Master to orgasm once this morning. He was right; Skinner took his time, his hands travelling over his slave's body in a proprietary fashion as he sank himself into Mulder's willing, waiting flesh. He tweaked a nipple, sucked down hard on Mulder's neck, and rested his hand heavily on his slave's thigh as he claimed Mulder totally and inexorably as his property. Mulder felt himself going into a daze. There was just him and his Master and the silence of that snowy world outside, and the feel of that beautiful, hard cock deep inside his warm body, making them one. A white heat took hold of him - and then he felt it; as Skinner's cock unerringly found his prostate with every thrust, Mulder felt as if his nerve endings had melted into each other, one after the other, sending a wave of the most exquisite pleasure through his entire body. He didn't come because he had been forbidden to do so during these Wanda commands, and because his Master hadn't given him permission to touch his own cock, but he saw a starburst of golden white lights and then he felt as if he was soaring through space, connected and yet disconnected from his own body. He stayed that way for what felt like an eon, and then he heard something, as if from a great distance.

"Hmm?" He asked, lazily.

"Nothing. Just testing," Skinner said, with what sounded like a distinct chuckle in his voice. Mulder knew his Master had come, but Skinner didn't withdraw. He just stayed there, lodged deep inside his slave's body, his hand still resting heavily on Mulder's thigh. Mulder closed his eyes dreamily, loving the sensation of being held, of being owned and enslaved, of being of sexual use to his Master as a plaything; something to be fucked, loved, stroked and petted at his Master's whim. At some point in this dreamy reverie, he fell into a deep, contented sleep, with his Master's cock still buried up to the hilt in his sweaty, sated body.

Mulder woke several hours later to find the Winter sun filtering weakly through the open drapes.

"Wha…?" he said, glancing up at his fully dressed Master.

"You were sleeping like a baby. I didn't want to wake you when Donald and Elliott brought our costumes around," Skinner said, smiling broadly as he gestured with his head to the two outfits, hanging on the outside of the closet, both encased in an impenetrable plastic shroud.

"Master is both cruel and dastardly," Mulder sighed.

Mulder spent the next few hours in a state of heightened anticipation once more until Skinner, tiring of his fidgety slave, told him to go and draw a bath. Mulder did as ordered, and then helped his Master to undress and get into the bath. He soaped Skinner lovingly, and washed the small fringe of hair on the back of his Master's scalp, stealing one or two forbidden kisses as he did so, but he knew his Master was indulgent of such behaviour. Then Skinner lay back with a sigh, and Mulder watched as his Master reached down and playfully massaged his cock into a full erection. Then Skinner glanced up at his slave and beckoned to him.

"Get in the bath, boy. I want to use you again," he said. "You can slide down on top of me – and do it gracefully. If you splash any water outside the tub I'll punish you."

Mulder felt his customary thrilled shiver at hearing Skinner being so completely in Master mode. He did his best to lower himself onto his Master's waiting, ready cock without spilling any water, but it was a fairly impossible task and a little splashed out onto the tiles. Skinner laughed and nuzzled his slave's neck as Mulder impaled himself on his Master's cock, and then slid down into the warm water and rested there for a moment, trying to become accustomed to the sensory overload of being in this position in the warm water.

"Well done, boy," Skinner whispered into his ear. "I'll spank you for the water later, but you didn't do too badly."

"Master did set an impossible task," Mulder pointed out, sighing happily as Skinner angled his hips up and rocked even deeper into his slave's body.

"That's a Master's prerogative," Skinner said throatily, his hands fondling his slave's body idly. "Now, I want you to listen to me and listen well, boy. I want to be assured of your best behaviour at the wedding this evening. I want you to be a credit to your Master."

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, privately wondering what mischief he could possibly get into at a wedding.

"Also, you will not touch your cock from now on. If you need to use the bathroom you'll ask my permission," Skinner told him. "No jerking off, nothing. If you're good, you'll get to come in our room at Murray's house after the wedding. If not…" He left the sentence hanging ominously. "To make things a little more interesting…" Skinner's voice had a tone of amusement in it that Mulder found worrying, "I've had Donald and Elliott incorporate a chastity belt into your outfit."

"You did what?" Mulder said, trying to stand up, completely outraged. Skinner grabbed him firmly by the hips and kept him in position.

"You heard. Not only will you need my permission when you need to use the bathroom – you'll also need my key," Skinner said, in that same, low, throaty tone.

"Oh god." Mulder's entire body convulsed in anticipation of such deliciously restrictive torture.

"I own you, boy. This body is mine," Skinner told him, running his hands lightly over Mulder's pale skin. "And this…" Skinner reached for Mulder's cock, took it in his hand, and caressed it lovingly, making Mulder moan. "This is mine above all else. You can't come, boy, in case you were wondering. I want you nice and aroused all day just thinking about how you can't come, and how much you want to."

"Please…" Mulder whispered, throwing his head back as Skinner's big, blunt thumb caressed the sensitive flesh on the underside of his cock.

"No," Skinner told him firmly. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Master," Mulder whispered, forcing himself back from the brink of his own arousal.

"That's right – you're mine, and this is my big cock in your ass, ramming that message home." Skinner wrapped his arm around Mulder's waist and began thrusting into him in earnest. Mulder tried to think of cattle ex-sanguination and fire wielding mutants but it was all he could do to hold back from coming while Skinner was filling him so expertly. Finally his Master came, leaving Mulder totally frustrated. He wanted to come so much that his balls ached, and yet there was something diabolically delicious about his Master's plan. Skinner lay back in the warm water with a happy sigh and Mulder turned and glanced at him over his shoulder.

"Master is beyond cruel," he said in an abject tone.

"Yes, boy." Skinner nodded and gave a broad grin. "Now get your ass out of the bath, and into the bedroom. I owe you a spanking and I think I'll administer it to wet skin – just to make it count."

Mulder got out of the bath, reeling from the dark thrill of being with his Master when he was in such an uncompromising mood. Skinner was a long way from being the lost, despairing man Mulder had nursed back to health a few weeks ago, and, while Mulder was seething with arousal and sexual frustration and trepidation about the spanking ahead, he was aware, in some dim part of his psyche, that, torture though this was, his Master was keying in to all his fantasies right now. He suspected, although he couldn't be sure and he knew Skinner would never tell him, that this was his Master's way of thanking him for his help and support during his recent illness.

Mulder scooted out into the bedroom, and stood, waiting for further orders. Skinner emerged a few seconds later, still damp, wrapped in a bathrobe.

"Put this towel on the bed and then lie face down on it," Skinner ordered, throwing his slave a towel. Mulder did as ordered and a few seconds later he felt the cool sensation of a long, thick, leather strap being trailed over his ass. He held his breath, waiting, but nothing happened. Skinner just kept floating that belt over his slave's back and bottom. Mulder began to relax, and then gave a gasp as his Master slapped a light, stinging swat onto his bare, wet bottom. It gave a little thwapping sound as it made contact with his damp skin, and it smarted. Mulder moaned, and opened his legs wide, loving it when his Master sometimes gently slapped the belt over his exposed asshole.

"Wider," Skinner instructed and Mulder obeyed readily. He told himself, in his head, that this was a particularly hard punishment to endure, but in reality he was always turned on when his Master sought out his anus with his belt, aiming deliberate little licks at it until it smarted both with sensation and the slight sting of pain. Skinner slapped the belt back onto Mulder's buttocks several times, warming them, and then returned to his slave's delicate opening. He aimed his belt in there over and over again, very lightly, until Mulder was wriggling around on the bed, both to evade the beautiful, hideous sting of the belt on this most sensitive of areas and also to try and accommodate his thick, full, hard cock which was jutting out uncomfortably in front of him. The spanking was less of a punishment and more of a deliciously erotic treat and Mulder was half out of his mind with pleasure by the time Skinner stopped.

"Okay, boy. You've gotten all sweaty again. Go take a shower and then come out here to get dressed – and don't you dare jerk off in the shower. I'll know if you do and then you can give up any idea of accompanying me to this wedding," Skinner told him sternly. Mulder's heart jumped in his throat. It had been a long time since he'd disobeyed his Master; he had wanted to jerk off in the shower, but he knew he wouldn't have done it.  He rose up off the bed, and, overcome by the high of the spanking, he knelt down in front of his Master, and kissed Skinner's feet. His cock was still hard, and bobbed in front of him, but his Master was as cruel as Mulder liked him to be on occasions like this, and took absolutely no notice at all of his slave's plight. Mulder got up and went to the shower, feeling dazed. It was then that he realised, as he surveyed his desperate cock, that it would be hours before he got the chance to come. With a sigh, he turned on the shower to its coldest temperature and stepped under the freezing water.

When he finally stepped out 10 minutes later, his cock had just about returned to its normal size, for which Mulder was grateful. He returned to the bedroom, dried his hair, and then knelt by the bed at his Master's order.

"Close your eyes." Skinner came over to his slave, holding a blindfold in his hands, and Mulder did as ordered. Skinner bound the soft leather tightly over his slave's eyes, making it impossible for Mulder to see a thing, and then ordered him to stand. "First the chastity belt," Skinner said, and Mulder felt him wrap what felt like a cool box around his genitals. A belt was fastened around his waist and the box was attached to that. "It's open right now. I'm going to close it and then lock it," Skinner said. He placed his hand on Mulder's cock to force it back into the cage, and Mulder moaned as his treacherous body betrayed him once again, and he hardened instantly. "Ah, that's very flattering, but it'll just make it even more uncomfortable for you," Skinner said, forcing Mulder's cock down and back. A minute later, Mulder felt a terrible pinching in his genital area as Skinner closed the cage, and he gasped. "If you lose that erection it won't hurt," Skinner told him, without any sympathy at all in his voice. "Now, for the lock." Mulder heard a little click and he swallowed hoarsely.

"You won't lose that key will you, Master?" He said feebly.

Skinner laughed. "Don't worry about that, slave."

"You've got a spare set haven't you?" Mulder fretted.

Skinner just laughed again and made no reply. "Okay. Now for your pants. Here, lean on me and step into them," Skinner said, guiding Mulder's legs as he spoke. Mulder felt a plush, soft fabric on his legs and sighed with pleasure. This felt nicer. Skinner fastened the pants and Mulder frowned.

"Won't I look very strange with the fabric of the pants straining over the bulge of the chastity belt, Master?" He questioned.

"No need to worry about that, boy. That's what this is for," Skinner said, and Mulder gave another little gasp as something was fitted over the cock cage. "It's a cod piece," Skinner told him informatively. "Something the Elizabethans used to wear to, one can only assume, draw attention to their 'manhoods'. There. Ah, I can assure you that people's attention will be very much drawn to your manhood, slave. It's a good thing they'll only be able to look and not touch." He gave what Mulder could only describe as an evil laugh and then continued dressing his slave. He fastened what felt like light chains to Mulder's nipple rings and then helped his slave into what felt like a gauzy shirt. A pair of calf length boots were pulled onto his feet, and finally Skinner applied lip gloss to Mulder's lips and then undid his slave's blindfold.

"Ready?" He asked. Mulder offered up a brief prayer and then nodded. Skinner whipped the blindfold away and Mulder gazed at the vision of himself reflected in the mirror in front of him.

"Oh. My. God." He hissed. "Oh my god!" He was wearing a pair of exquisitely beautiful cream coloured velvet trousers that hugged his legs, accentuating their long lines, and snuggled intimately into his ass, leaving nothing to the imagination. His groin seemed to jut out at a positively obscene angle; the codpiece was made of cream leather, and decked out with a multitude of glistening jewelled stones in reds, blues and greens. He was wearing a see-through gold gauze shirt, through which he could see the sparkling silver of the chains Skinner had attached to his nipple clamps. Skinner had also attached a length of fine but strong gold chain to his collar, which ended in a black leather lead that Skinner clearly intended to hold, keeping his slave leashed for the evening. Even the boots were kinky. They had two black spurs at the heel with a little hole in each, as if they had been designed for some particular purpose although Mulder couldn't think what. Mulder thought he looked exotic, beautiful, utterly ridiculous and, above all, like a total sex object. A creature to be petted, stroked and fucked, with his glistening lips promising oral sex, and his accentuated groin promising much more besides. "Oh shit," he whispered. "You don't think…there's the slightest possibility that I'll be, uh, overdressed, do you, Master?"

"No, slave. I don't. This is a scene wedding – trust me, you'd look an idiot if you turned up in jeans and a sweater. This occasion is a chance for people to wear their most outrageous clothing and to enjoy it, without worrying about looking stupid or out of place."

"What will *you* be wearing then, Master?" Mulder asked innocently.

Skinner grinned. "Watch," he said, in such a low, dark, promising voice that Mulder felt tingles of anticipation pass up and down his spine. He knelt beside the bed and did as ordered as Skinner took the other outfit out of its wrapping…and then practically drooled as Skinner showed him a beautiful, exquisite morning suit – made entirely from the finest, butter-soft black leather. There was an expensively tailored white cotton shirt to go with it, but the bow tie was also made from leather. Mulder just sat there and stared at it. The scent of fine quality leather filled his nostrils and made his cock harden uncomfortably again inside its prison.

"It's…beautiful," Mulder breathed. "Can I help you dress, Master?"

"I'm counting on it," Skinner said, laying the leather morning suit carefully on the bed. Mulder scrambled to help his Master. Skinner clearly wasn't going to wear underwear beneath such a magnificent outfit, and Mulder spent far longer than was entirely necessary helping his Master into those leather trousers and smoothing the fabric up his Master's long legs. He nestled Skinner's cock and balls lovingly into the pants and then fastened them at the waist. Skinner's legs were getting tired by this point, so he sat on the side of the bed, his arms outstretched, and allowed his slave to help him into the white shirt. Mulder took his time smoothing the cotton over Skinner's broad, strong shoulders and then did up the mother of pearl buttons. Then he fastened the crimson leather cummerbund around his Master's waist, before helping his Master into the leather jacket. Finally, he knelt and helped Skinner into a pair of black socks and some shiny, Italian leather black shoes, before standing back and surveying his Master in stunned silence. Skinner didn't just look magnificent – he looked superbly glorious with the fabric stretched tight over his muscular frame. He was a little leaner than usual after his illness, but that only served to accentuate his enviably slim waist and endlessly long legs. It was such a perfect combination of traditional morning suit and fetish costume that Mulder was full of admiration for his Master's creative abilities.

"I should have known that someone who wore such expensive suits and tasteful shirts and ties would be hiding a deep, dark interest in fashion under his FBI work clothes," Mulder commented with a grin.

"There's nothing wrong with caring about your appearance," Skinner reprimanded mildly but Mulder couldn't help but suppress a grin. The truth was that Skinner loved clothes in a way that Mulder couldn't begin to comprehend, but that didn't matter. Skinner loved dressing his slave as much as he loved dressing himself, and despite his occasional embarrassed moments, Mulder was coming to enjoy the pleasure of being dressed to his Master's taste and exact specifications.

"Y'know…I think we look pretty damn good," Skinner said, putting a big arm around his slave's shoulders and surveying them both in the mirror. Mulder had to agree. His own cream outfit blended perfectly with his Master's black and crimson, and it was also clear who was Master and who was slave, just as Skinner had predicted. Mulder's costume was soft and lush against Skinner's harder leather outfit, and they looked as if they belonged together.

"Now go and put some kohl and mascara on your eyes," Skinner ordered. "I have one last thing I need to do."

Mulder gazed at him speculatively but did as he had been ordered. When he returned to the bedroom, Skinner was waiting, with two thick, long, dark coats laid out on the bed. He was also carrying a leather duffle bag, much to Mulder's curiosity.

"Am I allowed to know what's in the bag?" He asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," Skinner replied infuriatingly. They pulled on their coats, which effectively disguised their outfits, although Mulder couldn't help flushing at the thought of being seen out in make up.

"One more thing," Mulder said, as Skinner turned to go. "I went online and found something I thought would suit you. Having seen your outfit I'm pretty sure it'll look perfect with it." He knelt and retrieved a package from under the bed and then handed it to his Master. Skinner ripped the wrapping paper from it, and then gazed at the thick, black, leather bound cane, with a silver engraved handle in the shape of a bear's head. Mulder knew that Skinner was sensitive on the issue of needing to use a cane but although his walking was much better, this was a big occasion and they both knew that sometimes, especially when he was tired, he faltered and needed support. The cane would give him that while at the same time just looking part of the costume – and lending it an even more distinguished air. Mulder waited, unsure what the reaction would be, wondering whether Skinner would be offended that his slave thought he might not manage to be steady on his feet all night, but Skinner's expression told him he'd done the right thing.

"Thank you," he said softly. "It's just right."

Mulder smiled, and picked up their overnight bag, while Skinner swung the mysterious duffle bag over his shoulder and they set off for the wedding.

It was dark and cold when they stepped out of the car at Murray's house an hour or so later. The snow was crisp underfoot, and the lights were ablaze in Murray's house, making it look warm and welcoming. Mulder got out of the car and then went around and opened his Master's door. Skinner stepped out, his breath lacing the icy air.

"Take off your coat – I want to make a grand entrance with you," Skinner ordered, removing his own thick overcoat. Mulder crammed both the coats into the overnight bag,   and was about to follow his Master into the house when Skinner paused, and opened the duffle bag. "There's one more thing I want you to wear," he said. "Something to set off the whole outfit and to remind you who you belong to and why you're wearing that chastity belt."

Mulder took a deep breath. "Somehow I have a feeling I'm not going to like this," he muttered.

"Oh, you’re going to love it," Skinner chuckled. He pulled something that clunked and tinkled out of the bag, and then knelt down beside his slave, and fastened it to the spur of his boot. Mulder looked down in horror as he realised what was happening. Skinner fastened the other end of the thick gold chain to the other spur, and it was then that Mulder realised the spurs had been deliberately fashioned to serve this exact purpose. Skinner stood up, a somewhat evil smile curving his sensuous lips.

"Now you're hobbled," he said, before grabbing his cane in one hand and the end of Mulder's leash in the other, and walking slowly and majestically towards the entrance of the large house. Mulder had no choice but to follow on behind, stunned by this last, diabolical proof of Skinner's mastery over him. "Walk in pigeon steps or you'll fall over," Skinner warned over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Right. Way to spoil my fun for the whole night, Master," Mulder groused, as he took one tentative step forwards, and then another. The hobble allowed him a couple of handspans of movement and, in fact, it wasn't hard to walk in the chains at all as long as he remembered that they were there. Mulder quickly realised that a little running step was the best way of keeping up with his Master's long strides. It was humiliating, but then Mulder figured it was intended to be. He felt like a geisha as he made his mincing little movements behind Skinner, at the end of his Master's leash.

The house was full to the brim with guests. Murray had clearly spared no expense in decking it out with dark red and white flowers, and the enormous staircase was swathed in velvets and silks in rich, deep reds, golds and creams – the exact same shades, Mulder realised, as Skinner's cummerbund and his own cream velvet suit and gold shirt. Obviously a *lot* of planning had gone into this wedding. The guests were dressed in a multitude of rich fabrics. Mulder saw uniforms and brocades, corsets and rubber, and other exotic plumage. People were laughing and showing off their costumes as Skinner walked into the house, carrying his walking cane in one hand and leading his slave by the other on the end of his leash. The laughing and chatting continued for a moment, as Skinner came to a halt and stood, unmoving, resplendent in the hallway, and then, slowly, a hush fell over the room, as everyone turned to gaze at the two late entrants, in their exquisite outfits.

Mulder felt a shiver run up his spine and he knelt beside his Master the moment Skinner stopped walking, as he had been trained to do, every inch the obedient slave. A little hum of approval radiated around the room at the perfect tableaux Master and slave made, framed in the doorway, dazzling and splendid. Skinner stood with his legs slightly apart, his walking cane on the floor in front of him, his hands resting lightly on it.

"I hope we're not late," he said, glancing at Murray and Hammer, who had materialised out of nowhere and who were both staring at him as if they'd seen a ghost.

"No…but…we built a makeshift ramp…we thought…" Hammer began, gesturing in confusion.

"Where's your damn wheelchair, man?" Murray roared, cutting through Hammer's polite stuttering.

"As you can see…" Skinner lifted his hands and gestured to his long legs with his black cane. "I don't need it. True, I'm not as steady as I was, but that's why I have my slave to lean on." He glanced down at Mulder with a little smile.

"This is fantastic, Walter! Last time we saw you, you were the colour of that snow out there. We were all so worried about you, and then Mulder said you didn’t want any more visitors…" Hammer shook his head, still looking at Skinner as if he didn't believe his eyes.

"I told him to say that," Skinner said. "He and I had some things to work through. As you can see, we were successful."

"What I can *see* is that the Master is so jealous of his slave's beauty that he's got him hobbled and leashed!" Murray said with a roar of laughter. "Or maybe you thought you'd teach him a lesson about how hard it is when you can't walk properly – is that it?" He gave another hearty roar of laughter. Skinner shook his head and gave Mulder another little smile.

"Ah, the first explanation is closer to the truth. I couldn't have wished for a more devoted slave throughout my recuperation," he replied, reaching out a hand to tousle his slave's hair affectionately. Mulder was sure that he'd have found such a gesture profoundly embarrassing in any other company than this, but here he found himself leaning into the caress and smiling dreamily at the pleasure of being touched by his Master. He wanted all these people, all these exotically dressed slaves, Masters, Mistresses and subs, to know that he was with this magnificently attired man, that he was the Guardian's slave, and much loved by his Master. It made him tingle all over to know he was being so publicly viewed, and now he was pleased that his Master had dressed him in this exotic outfit. He had always had a love/hate relationship with people looking at him in the past, but now the love was definitely to the forefront. The truth was that he had an exhibitionist core to his soul, and he had grown more comfortable with that fact under his Master's tutelage. Whereas before he'd have found it embarrassing to be seen being so obviously submissive in such revealing clothing, now he found it thrilling, and he wanted to be showed off and displayed all night. He remembered one of the previous occasions when he'd been at Murray's house, when Skinner had sold him to Perry in a slave auction. Mulder hadn't enjoyed it at all and his Master had been surprised, as he had thought it would have given his slave a thrill. Now Mulder understood the appeal of public display, and he was much more relaxed about his role. Next time there was a slave auction, he thought he might ask his Master to submit him to it – on the understanding that he would not be required to perform any service more personal than a massage of course. He knew Skinner wouldn't agree to anything other than that in any case; his Master had never made any secret of the fact that he was a very jealous man, and his slave was his property and his alone.

"Has the bride arrived?" Skinner asked.

"She's about to make her grand entrance," Murray said, waving his hand at the staircase. "The ceremony will take place in the Lodge." Murray's house was extremely palatial, and Mulder knew there was a guest house in the grounds which was referred to as 'the Lodge'.

"Fox – why don't you take your luggage up to your room?" Hammer suggested. "You know which one it is – the same one you used last time. It's the best in the house apart from our own and that of the bride, obviously!"

Mulder looked to his Master and Skinner gave him a nod of permission. He hobbled up to the big bedroom, with its four poster bed and en suite bathroom, dumped their overnight bag there, then scooted back down to his Master's side as fast as he could with his chained ankles, eager not to miss anything.

He got back just in time, as there was a sudden drumroll from the 5 piece band located in the centre of the stairwell, and everyone looked up. A collective cheer went around the hall as Elaine made her entrance at the top of the staircase. She looked stunning in a tight crimson velvet dress, made in the style of an old fashioned, turn of the century, riding habit. She was wearing a hat, from which hung a red veil, there were black gloves on her hands, long lace up boots on her feet - and she was carrying a riding crop. Mulder grinned, loving the sheer theatricality of this event. He joined in the clapping as she walked, in an utterly regal way, down the stairs, waving to people with an elegant twist of her wrist as she went, obviously enjoying herself enormously. She got to the bottom of the staircase, and that was when Skinner stepped forward and offered her his arm. Her eyes widened, and turned a little glassy as she saw him.

"Walter," she said softly. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. Hammer was prepared to be your stand in but I told him it wouldn't be necessary. I knew you'd be here."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Skinner replied, in a low, husky voice. "You have my slave to thank for the fact that I'm not here in my wheelchair though."

"Ah." Elaine sought out Mulder in the crowd, and her eyes held his for a moment. Mulder knew, deep down, that however nice they had been to him, and however warmly they had welcomed him into their circle, Walter's friends had always wondered whether he was worthy of his Master. He didn't blame them. They had seen how much trouble he had been to Skinner; they had been involved in his dramatic falling apart this past year, and they'd watched Skinner put him back together again. Now, in this moment, as his eyes met Elaine's, he knew they wouldn't doubt him again. She smiled at him, a knowing smile, and he smiled back. Then the moment was over, and she took Skinner's arm and allowed him to lead her to the door.

The crowd surged behind them, with Mulder hobbling close to his Master, still at the end of Skinner's leash. They all rushed outside, where, on cue, there was a sound of clattering hooves, and 4 pony boys ran up to the house, pulling a small carriage behind them. Mulder grinned at Ian as he came to a halt in front of the house. He was the first pony on the right, and, like all the other identically clad pony boys, was warmly clothed in winter furs, with a bridle over his face and polished black PVC boots on his feet. There was a tinkling of bells which was coming, Mulder surmised, from a variety of body areas. Mulder guessed that if this had been a summer event they might have been naked, but they looked good in their matching outfits.

"Here – Perry will hold your leash on the walk down," Skinner said, handing Mulder's leash over to his good friend. Mulder grinned good-naturedly, so caught up in the event that he didn't even care about being handed so casually over to someone else. 

Elaine took the time to walk around stroking and offering sugar lumps to all her ponies which they all took with good grace, and then she sat in her seat, beside Skinner, in the little carriage. Skinner picked up the long, black whip and swirled it around alarmingly, making an impressive silhouette, lit by the lights from the house, his long legs tightly encased in their black leather, his arms powerful and strong as he wielded the whip like the Master he was, his breath making a little white cloud in the air around him. There was a loud snap as Skinner cracked the whip, and the pony boys started forward on their cue. It was only a short walk to the lodge so everyone else followed on behind.

The lodge was lit by slave boys holding real flame torches. They ran to greet the party, and formed an aisle for them to walk down. Then they were inside the lodge, and there, waiting in front of a large, stone table in the enormous back room being used for the ceremony, was David. He was dressed like a cavalry officer in a turn of the century uniform, the red of his epaulettes and the flash of red in his hat precisely matching the crimson of Elaine's dress. Mulder took his seat in the room, beside Perry and an un-harnessed Ian, and they watched as Skinner walked Elaine to the large stone table and then stepped away and sat down beside his slave. David was so overcome by the emotion of the event, and by his Mistress's costume, that he immediately knelt before her when she came to stand beside him in front of the stone table. Mulder didn't blame him – Elaine looked fantastic. She smiled down at her bridegroom, and then tipped his chin and stroked his cheek gently, but he remained on his knees throughout.

Murray presided over the ceremony with his loud, booming voice, and then David and Elaine read out their vows. Elaine presented David with a thin, shiny gold collar which she placed around his neck.

"With this collar, I thee wed," she said, holding the two ends open. "It's a specially crafted collar, David – once it's locked it will be impossible to unlock it again. The only way you'll be able to get it off will be to cut through it. Do you accept this symbol of my ownership of your body?"

"Yes, Mistress," he breathed and Mulder felt a brief pang of envy.

Elaine clicked the ends of the chain in place and the room broke out in a peal of delighted clapping. David, for his part, presented Elaine with a gold ring, in a more traditional wedding rite.

"I pledge to serve you for the rest of my days, Mistress, as your lover, servant and adoring slave until the end of time. I know I have no rights over your body or your will, but I would ask you to accept this gift as a symbol of my undying love," he said, in such a soft voice Mulder could barely hear him. "To wear or discard as pleases you, Mistress," he finished, glancing up at her hopefully. She smiled and gave him her hand, and, with a delighted smile, he removed her glove, kissed each of her fingers and then pressed the ring onto ring finger. Another cheer went around the room and the happy couple looked as if they had been frozen there, in that tableau, with David kneeling at his Mistress's feet while she accepted his ring. Mulder's eyes were drawn to Elaine's face. Even though she was the top, she looked just as besotted with her sub as he was with her, and she seemed delighted to be wearing his ring. Mulder thought back to the previous November, when Tabi had asked why he wore a ring and his Master did not. He remembered the note of sadness in his Master's voice when he replied that nobody had given him one. Mulder knew that was what Skinner wanted, but he also knew why he had not felt able to give his Master that ring. It wasn't that he doubted his love for Skinner - he doubted himself. He had never thought he would be able to commit himself to one person, and live with him or her for the rest of his life. He was, by nature, too restless, too tormented by his own demons, and too scared that he might let down someone he loved, and hurt them. At least… he always had been. Was he still the same?

Mulder glanced at his Master sideways to find Skinner gazing, with rapt attention, as Elaine and David finished their vows. Mulder thought of the many times he had made his Master prove his love to him; by keeping him after he had deliberately disobeyed him by digging around in his Master's past in California; by chasing out to Seattle to rescue him from Krycek's clutches; by standing by him after he fell apart so spectacularly in the days and weeks that followed; by collaring and branding him, and taking everything Mulder threw his way and never, ever giving up on his slave. Mulder hoped he'd repaid some of that devotion in these past few weeks when Skinner had been so ill, and in some ways he thought Skinner's illness had helped him understand his role more clearly. He was just as capable as Skinner; he could be the strong one too, strong enough to keep them both together. He had been forced, during Skinner's illness, to make decisions that affected both their lives, and he had done so with confidence and maturity. Maybe he was wrong to doubt himself.

The ceremony came to a close, and Skinner picked up Mulder's leash and led him back out into the night, where they all followed the happy couple back up to the main house.

"Did you enjoy it?" Skinner asked his slave as they walked – or rather Skinner walked and Mulder trotted.

"It was okay. For a wedding." Mulder shrugged nonchalantly. Skinner gave him a sideways grin and tugged affectionately on his leash.

"Ah, my unromantic slave – although I think, this past year, you've come to appreciate some of your Master's more romantic gestures – yes?"

"Master's slave has no choice but to accept it when his Master is being romantic," Mulder replied with a sly grin. Skinner gave a bark of laughter.

"Insolent pup. I should tan your hide for that!" he growled, but instead he stopped, and pulled Mulder into a heart stopping kiss, his hands finding his slave's ass and fondling insistently. Mulder surrendered happily to his Master's embrace, feeling his cock stirring in the evil chastity cage that imprisoned it.

"Please, Master," he whispered, pressing himself against his Master's body. "We could steal away for a few minutes, couldn't we?" He asked plaintively.

"Ah, is my boy suffering?" Skinner looked as if he was pleased by the thought so Mulder guessed that sympathy was going to be in short supply. "Later, my boy, I'll fuck you so hard you'll scream," he said, his hands still caressing his slave's ass, his breath warm on Mulder's cheek.

"Why wait until later?" Mulder pleaded, his cock growing even harder inside its prison.

"Because we have a wedding to attend!" Skinner gestured with a flourish of his arm, and then he set off up to the house with long strides, tugging his slave behind him. Mulder had no choice but to hobble along in his Master's wake, taking fast little steps to keep up, cursing under his breath that he had a Master this fiendish.

They spent the next couple of hours talking, laughing and eating in Murray's huge house. Elaine and David circulated around the room, talking to all their guests, and then finally arrived at the table where Mulder, Skinner, Ian and Perry were seated.

Perry grabbed a chair and offered it to Elaine, and Mulder pulled one over for David, who declined with a slight smile, and knelt beside his mistress instead.

"Ah, I think someone's too sore to sit," Ian commented as Elaine started chatting with Skinner and Perry. "I thought you were walking in a certain, uh, way, Dave – what did your beautiful but capricious mistress do to you last night?"

"I was nervous." David gave a little grin and glanced sideways at Mulder. "She got tired of me pacing around the house and sent me out to have a good time."

"Ah. I think we know what that means." Ian grinned.

"What?" Mulder looked from one to the other, completely clueless.

Ian snorted. "Dave's mistress has forbidden him from going to one particular scene bar," he told Mulder.

"You disobeyed her?" Mulder was aghast. "On the night before your wedding?"

David gave a dreamy smile. "I would never disobey my Mistress without her permission," he replied.

"What?" Mulder said again, feeling even more confused now. Ian sighed.

"Mulder and his Master don't play games," he explained. "Everything they do is for real,"

"That's not true!" Mulder protested, feeling aggrieved. "This is a game?" He said, the light finally dawning.

Ian grinned at him, and then explained. "David is forbidden to go to a certain scene bar – so if he *does* go there, it's pretty much a done deal that he wants his Mistress to punish him. There's a barman there – Louis isn't it, Dave? – who can be relied to call Elaine and tell her that her errant boy is where he shouldn't be. She comes down and gives him a very public spanking. I was there one night when it happened." Ian winked at David.

Mulder glanced from Ian to David, intrigued by this insight into another couple's relationship. It wasn't true that he and his Master never played games – they had introduced a very satisfying role-playing element into their sex life and Mulder enjoyed it enormously. However, he realised that what had surprised him was that David so clearly initiated this particular game. He decided when he needed a public spanking scene and deliberately went to this forbidden bar in order that his Mistress could find him there and punish him. That was something of a revelation to Mulder. He always threw himself into role-playing games with his Master but when he thought about it, there was no reason why Skinner had to do all the work. Mulder was sure he could be just as creative in this arena. Maybe he'd lacked the confidence before, but he felt their relationship had matured  since the branding.

"A public spanking?" Mulder questioned, feeling his body tingle all over at that thought. He remembered how he had enjoyed being displayed earlier, remembered that night, a couple of months ago, at the leather bar, where Skinner had stripped and whipped him while the crowd stood and watched, and how exhilarating that had been. "You're a lucky man, David," he said softly, and he glanced up to find his Master watching him, his dark brown eyes thoughtful. Maybe, just maybe, Mulder thought to himself, it was time for him to start initiating some sex games of his own.

He watched as Elaine and David started the dancing, and soon a sizeable group of couples had joined them.

"Would Master like to dance?" Mulder asked Skinner. His Master smiled and shook his head.

"I'm giving my legs a rest."

"Are you okay?" Mulder asked, with a worried frown. Skinner's legs had stood up pretty well to the whole event, but they both knew that Skinner was shakier when he was tired.

"I'm fine," Skinner replied. "Just pacing myself."

"Would you mind if I danced?" Mulder requested, surprising himself – he usually just stuck by Skinner's side at events like this, and he didn't even *like* dancing, but he had a glimmer of an idea and he thought it would add some spice to the evening if it worked.

Skinner looked surprised as well. He thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. Mulder looked mournfully at his hobbles. Skinner rolled his eyes.

"All right, boy. Come here. I'll let you off your leash for an hour or two."

Mulder grinned and shuffled over to his Master so that Skinner could remove the chain linking his boots. His Master did so and then placed a proprietary hand on his slave's cod piece.

"Be good, boy," he said.

"I will, Master," Mulder replied. "I know how jealous Master can be and I wouldn't want to make him angry." He gave a startled Skinner a wide grin, and hoped that would be enough to clue his Master in on what he was doing.

The dancefloor was teeming with people and Mulder felt strangely free without the fetters on his ankles. It was a peculiar feeling, being released from such confining chains, and he threw himself around, enjoying the sheer physicality of being able to move normally again. He saw people he knew from Murray's summer party the previous year, and the various scene parties he and his Master had attended, and he busied himself dancing with anyone who could stand to be near his flailing, over excited limbs as he charged around the dancefloor. Mulder had never been a good dancer – usually he was content to shuffle around in an embarrassed fashion whenever there was dancing, before making his excuses and sitting down again - but tonight he felt a wild energy take over. He felt comfortable inside his own skin, and he was with people with habits and lifestyles similar to his own, so he didn't feel as if he was being judged. More than that, he knew that somehow, inside his own head, something had clicked. Maybe he had never worried so much about being judged by others as being judged by himself. He didn't have that problem any more. He was content with himself and he knew who he was. There didn't seem to be any need for embarrassment, or to hide. No, he wasn't the best dancer in the world, but that didn't matter as long as he had a good time, and he definitely intended to do that.

Mulder was aware of his Master's eyes on him, as he danced with one person after another. He deliberately singled out the people he knew were tops, women as well as men, and, with one eye always on his Master, he danced with them energetically all evening. He was aware, in turn, that Skinner's dark eyed gaze followed him the entire time. Even when talking to Elaine, or Perry, or Ian, Skinner's eyes would wander back to the dancefloor to see what his slave was doing.

As the evening wore on, the dancing grew more intense. Mulder knew that he was stoking an invisible fire between himself and his Master, and he felt a warm, heady sensation course through his veins. This was fun! He would never do anything to consciously hurt his Master, but now Mulder could see a way forward – a way to walk that fine line between the rollercoaster and the quiet life, so that both he and his Master could have the occasional thrills and edginess that their relationship thrived on, without that being a threat. Mulder knew he had an inventive and curious mind, and he could see a whole future for them where Skinner wasn't the only one who had to think up scenarios they could both enjoy. The excitement of this knowledge fired up Mulder even further, and he began teasing and taunting his dance partners, flirting with them, fanning the flames between himself and his Master to fever pitch.

Mulder put his hands around the biceps of the Leather Daddy he was dancing with and made an admiring face, and then wiggled his hips in a hopelessly inept parody of Mick Jagger on a bad day, feeling like a shameless slut, his cock permanently semi-erect inside its cage. He really didn't have any interest in Leather Daddy's biceps, which weren't nearly as impressive as his Master's in any case, but he could feel Skinner's eyes boring into him, red hot and ready to explode. Just a little more heat…Mulder pushed his hips forward, and realised, too late, just how obscene that looked while wearing such a boastful codpiece, and the next thing he knew, his arm was being grabbed in a tight fist.

"You. With me. Now," his Master growled in a low tone in his ear, yanking his slave forcibly off the dancefloor. Mulder felt a thrill of excitement as Skinner bundled him physically out of the room, and then pushed him up the stairs.

"What's the matter, Master?" He panted, as Skinner pushed him along the hallway in the direction of their bedroom. Skinner's breath was warm on the side of his face and neck, and he could smell the other man's sweat and scent of raw, powerful jealousy.

"Your behaviour is the matter!" Skinner snapped, his grip on Mulder's arm tightening.

"I can't help it if people found me attractive tonight," Mulder said slyly, deliberately stoking the scene.

Skinner gave a little growl of annoyance and kicked open their bedroom door and threw Mulder inside. He slammed the door shut after him and Mulder backed away, seeing the wild expression in Skinner's eyes. He knew it was a sex game, a scene, but it was more than a game too, and that was what gave it its edge. He knew that he had a safe word – Wanda – if he was genuinely frightened, but he wasn't. He was loving it. This was the first time he'd initiated any play of his own, and although it wasn't a very sophisticated scenario, he loved the feeling. He always adored it when Skinner was in full he-man mode, and his Master sure as hell was looking big, strong and angry as he faced his slave down.

"Slut," Skinner growled. "I think you've forgotten who you belong to, boy."

"I think Master's jealous," Mulder taunted, edging back against the bed.

"Yeah – oh yeah," Skinner slurred, his breathing come in harsh pants. "Master sure as hell IS jealous, and I think I need to remind you who your Master is."

Skinner pounced on him, stumbling slightly as his unsteady legs gave way beneath him, and the weight of his body pushed them both back onto the bed, with Mulder squashed firmly underneath. He lay there for a moment, winded, and then realised he was trapped under his Master's weight and Skinner was making no move to get off him. He managed to free his arms but his Master grabbed them and pinned them over his head.

"Who do you belong to, boy?" He asked, in a rasping voice. Mulder's cock was as hard as it could get inside his cage and he gave a moan of frustration as he realised that unless Skinner released him, his cock would remain imprisoned throughout this scene.

"You, Master!" He panted.

"I don't think you understand what that means," Skinner growled. "I think I have to make you understand." Mulder felt Skinner's hands on his pants, and the cod piece went flying, then he heard a ripping sound as his Master literally ripped his pants from his body.

"Oh shit," he moaned softly, seriously turned on.

"Shut up, boy and get your legs open. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't forget who owns you ever again," Skinner told him. He slapped the inside of Mulder's thighs open, and forced his body between Mulder's open legs. Then he opened his pants, and released his thick, swollen cock. Mulder watched, fascinated; no matter how often he had seen his Master's erect penis, it still never failed to impress him, and now, with Skinner in this mood, it seemed more magnificent than ever. Mulder decided that a little more resistance on his part was required – he didn't want his Master to have it all his own way – so he wriggled out of Skiner's grasp, and, hobbled by the remains of his pants, just as he had been hobbled by chains earlier, he turned and threw himself off the bed. He heard Skinner give a muffled curse behind him, and was half way to the door when he felt his Master slam into him. He was pushed up against the wall, his head angled to one side, his Master's big body covering him from behind. His hips were grabbed and pulled back, his buttocks forced open, and the next thing he knew his Master's large cock was impaling him from behind, imprisoning him against the wall. He was cornered, completely unable to move, totally and utterly at his Master's mercy.

"I'm going to fuck you right through this wall," Skinner promised, and Mulder threw his head back, feeling the sweat run down his face. This was so raw, so intense, that all his emotions were heightened. "You'll think twice about making me jealous again, boy," Skinner said, in a threatening voice, and then he gave a forward thrust so savage that Mulder cried out. He lost all sense of the next few minutes as his Master used his slave without mercy. He was just grateful that Skinner had his arms wrapped around his slave's waist as otherwise he didn't think his legs would hold him up. He couldn't help but wonder about Skinner's stamina, and how long Skinner's tired legs would hold *him* up, but right here and now, Skinner seemed every inch the invulnerable, physically overpowering Master he had always been. His thick, powerful cock impaled Mulder vigorously with every thrust, and Mulder's own cock was so painfully erect inside its cage that it was agony and yet all the nerve endings in his body were telling him that he was having a fantastic time. He wanted to come but it was impossible. He could only stand there, his hands uselessly trying to find some purchase on the flat wall, as his Master made use of him with a jealous intensity that Mulder could almost smell. Skinner's cock pumped into him, hard and fast, stretching him as never before, filling him. "Who are you?" Skinner asked on his inward thrust.

"Yours!" Mulder panted in reply as Skinner withdrew.

"Who do you belong to?" Skinner asked, thrusting again, just one shade short of savage.

"You, Master. You! Please!" Mulder begged, knowing that he was pleading for it to go on forever, and not to stop.

"I own you, boy," Skinner told him, thrusting vigorously. "I own this tight asshole, and these nice, firm asscheeks. I own them. I own you. I own your cock, which belongs to me and me alone. If you're lucky I'll unlock that cage around it but not anytime soon. If you're unlucky I'll throw away the key and you'll never come again. I can do that because I own you, boy."

"Yes, Master. I know! I know! You own me! I'm yours! Fuck me, Master! Use me!" Mulder gabbled incoherently. "I love you, Master! I love you!"

Skinner's hard thrusting reached a crescendo, and he gave a loud roar as he shot his load deep inside his slave's body. Mulder convulsed in time with his Master's orgasm, seeing white stars in his head, his own body screaming for release. Skinner stood there for what felt like an hour, his entire body pressed against Mulder's, his arms still wrapped around his slave's waist, his cock still buried deep inside him. Mulder could feel that his Master's head was hanging down, resting slightly on his shoulder, and he could smell the heady scent of the leather outfit his Master was wearing. He waited, wondering what would happen next, and whether the scene was over, and then his Master spoke, in a low, growling tone, in Mulder's ear.

"I'm not done with you yet, boy. You were deliberately teasing me this evening and you're going to be punished for that."

"Yes, Master," Mulder whispered, and a thrill of anticipation ran up and down his spine while his stomach did several somersaults.

"I'm going to tan your hide, boy," Skinner told him, withdrawing from his slave with a plopping noise. Mulder tried hard to remember to breathe as his Master finally released him. He sagged, but Skinner held him up until he was steadier, and then his Master moved away and sat on the large, four poster bed, making himself comfortable on all the pillows. "Over my knee, boy," Skinner ordered. Mulder eyed his Master nervously. Skinner looked every inch the large, angry, Master, sitting there in his leather pants, his shoulders gloriously displayed in that tight, white shirt, open at the collar, the bow tie and jacket long since discarded somewhere along the way. "Don't make me come and get you," Skinner warned. "You're in trouble, boy. You forgot the first rule of your slavery – that you belong to me and nobody else touches you. You're going to be punished and punished hard."

"Nobody else *did* touch me, Master," Mulder pointed out.

"People have been slobbering over you all night, boy," Skinner snapped. "And you were encouraging them like a shameless slut. Now come here – I'm going to tan your hide but good."

Mulder loved the threat inherent in those words and he stepped cautiously forwards to meet his fate. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, as Skinner grabbed his wrist and pulled his slave over his knee

"Oh, you will be, Fox. I can promise you that," Skinner replied. He took a few seconds arranging Mulder over his knee, and then, leaning forward and wrapping one arm firmly around his slave's waist, he went straight in, whaling on his slave's ass in earnest from the very first spank. Mulder hollered, kicked and screamed to begin with, but Skinner had a tight hold on him, and his Master's hand was big, hard and heavy, making short work of turning Mulder's ass into a crimson beacon. Mulder stopped struggling when the endorphins hit him, and he felt himself starting to fly. He felt his body relaxing, as he received the first proper spanking he'd had since his Master's illness. Sure, Skinner had started giving him his usual morning spanking again, but mostly that was a few hard swats, and there had been the occasional erotic spanking too, culminating in that beautiful strapping earlier that evening, but nothing this intense. This felt like punishment, a proper correction for transgressing his Master's rules, and that gave it a special edge, making Mulder's belly tingle and his cock ache even harder. It felt cathartic – more than that, it felt totally and absolutely necessary, as an expression of his Master's power over him after his recent illness. This felt like Skinner's way of reasserting their roles in the most raw and basic manner possible, and it thrilled Mulder to his core.

Then, finally, it was over, and Mulder lay a panting, sobbing wreck over his Master's knee. Skinner let him rest there for a long time, just stroking his slave's glowing ass, and muttering "Mine, boy, mine," over and over again. Mulder turned and gazed at his Master dreamily over his shoulder.

"That was fantastic, Master…" he began, but Skinner cut him off.

"I'm not finished with you yet, boy," he growled. "I think a further lesson on this subject is in order. Lie on your back." Mulder did as ordered, hissing as his throbbing bottom made contact with the cool sheets. Skinner knelt over him, and quickly divested him of the rest of his clothing, save for the cock cage. "This body is mine," Skinner told his slave. "And I'm going to play with it. You can just lie there and offer yourself up to me, boy. Don't expect any release. I'll only set that cock of yours free when I'm good and done with taking my own pleasure…and I might want to fuck you again before that happens."

Mulder felt his entire body spasm at that news. He hadn't thought this could get any better but it was. He watched as Skinner slowly removed his own shirt, and threw it onto the floor. His Master looked lean, tanned and fit, and Mulder wanted to touch him. He put out his hands to caress his Master's chest but Skinner batted them away. "Don't touch, boy. You belong to me – not the other way around," he warned. Mulder swallowed hard and his hands fell back to his sides. Skinner was only wearing his tight leather pants and the big black belt with the silver buckle, and he looked totally magnificent in the semi-darkness of the room. The moonlight bounced off the snow outside and in through the still open drapes, illuminating Skinner's large, domed head and shrouding him in silvery light as he bent his head and worked on his slave's body. Skinner hands were both gentle and cruel at the same time as they explored Mulder thoroughly. He stroked his slave, rubbed his nipples into fine points, and then moved lower, but always avoiding the groin area. Mulder moaned, and pushed his hips up, seeking release, but Skinner shook his head.

"Is that cage pinching you, boy?" He asked. "I hope so," he added darkly, and Mulder lay back on the bed, almost screaming with frustration. Skinner held Mulder's arms pinned into the pillows over his head, lowered his own head, and began licking Mulder's nipples. Mulder groaned, sure that he would explode from sheer sensory input.

"Quiet, boy. Take your lesson and remember that this body isn't yours to give to anyone else. It belongs to me and only I have the right to do this to it." Skinner lowered his head again and began sucking down more forcefully on Mulder's nipples, nipping at them lightly with his teeth, causing Mulder to squeal and wriggle pointlessly against his Master's superior strength and position. Skinner did as promised – he played with his slave's body for what felt like forever. Mulder felt sure his cock was dying inside its cage but his Master's cruelty in not allowing him his release just stoked the fire of his arousal even more, until he was incoherent with need. He couldn't, at this point, have said just what it was he wanted; he was just a total mass of jello, utterly surrendered to his Master's whim, allowing Skinner to do what he pleased with him.

Skinner took hold of one of Mulder's sensitised nipples between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently.

"You're a slave. You're my boy. You belong to me," he hissed. Mulder was beyond speech. He just lay there, whimpering. "And this cock…" Skinner's hand went to the cock cage, and Mulder took a sharp intake of breath, hoping beyond hope…only to have that hope dashed a few seconds later as Skinner's hand passed over it and grasped his thighs instead.

"I'm feeling horny again," Skinner told him. "I think I'm gonna bury myself in my slave's hot, tight ass and fuck him into the bed," he promised throatily. He moved his hands and began stroking his way up Mulder's chest. He stroked his slave's neck and then pressed a finger inside his slave's mouth. Mulder sucked on it greedily and Skinner laughed. "Slave slut," he said. "*My* slave slut," he clarified, presumably in case Mulder hadn't gotten that message. "Open your legs, boy," he ordered. Mulder moaned, unable to believe that his Master would fuck him again without giving him release but turned on by that very thought. Skinner leaned in and stole a long, deep, brutal kiss from Mulder's lips, leaving them bruised and him breathless. "This asshole is mine," Skinner said, his thumb slipping inside it as he went back in for another kiss that was so forceful it pinned Mulder back on the pillows. Skinner took hold of Mulder's hair in his fist and pulled his slave's head back, then kissed him again, his thumb slipping rhythmically in and out of Mulder's ass at the same time. Mulder opened his legs wider, greedily needing more, and then Skinner removed his thumb, and Mulder heard him fumbling with his own pants and a few seconds later his Master entered him again, his mouth still covering Mulder's in a series of plundering kisses that left Mulder breathless and in no doubt at all about who owned him. His Master went more slowly this time, easily sinking himself in and out of his slave's ass with lazy motions of his hips, his fist still wrapped in Mulder's hair. Mulder was well and truly fucked by his Master. Fucked without any thought for his own pleasure; fucked for Skinner's release; fucked to prove a point – that he was owned, a slave, and he existed to serve his Master. It was thrilling and exhilarating and it was Mulder's ultimate turn on. He no longer cared if he came or not…he felt utterly quelled, and totally in thrall to his Master's every whim. Skinner was nose to nose with him, taking those dark, hungry kisses from Mulder's lips, while he powered slowly inside his slave's body. Skinner took his time drumming his message home and Mulder's already sore ass started to feel stretched and even more sore as the pounding continued. His whole body was quivering with a surfeit of sensation – he felt almost as if he had sailed through the waters of his own arousal and come out the other side. He was his Master's plaything, his toy, his property and that was the best feeling in the world. Skinner covered his mouth again, and stayed kissing him forever this time; Mulder felt him come inside his body and experienced his Master's groan of release deep inside the kiss. Skinner continued to kiss him for several seconds longer and then finally released him, and withdrew from his slave's body.

Mulder lay there, utterly shocked and stunned by the onslaught and barely noticed his Master fish a key out of his pocket, and undo the cage around his cock. It sprang eagerly up, and Mulder let out a howl as Skinner took it in his fist and squeezed, hard.

"This is mine too," he growled, sliding his hand along the hard, needy cock. "Shall I give it what it wants or not, boy?"

"I don't mind, Master," Mulder whispered, meaning it. "It's yours – whatever pleases you." Skinner surveyed him for a long moment, his dark eyes assessing, and then he gave a nod.

"I think it pleases me to let you come, boy. Whenever you want…" And with that he lowered his head and wrapped his warm, wet mouth around Mulder's sensitive penis. Mulder yelped and bucked up against his Master but Skinner didn't intend for it to be an easy ride. He took Mulder's abused cock to the edge of orgasm and then released it, sat back on his heels, and looked down on his slave again. "Whenever you like, boy," he said. Mulder reached out to touch his cock and bring himself to climax but Skinner brushed his hands back. "Your cock is mine, boy. Don't touch it," he said, and Mulder felt another wave of the most terrible frustrated arousal sweep through him. He was so close!

"Oh god…" he sighed, pushing his thighs high, needing release, needing stimulation on his cock. "Master…Master…" He felt his cock spasm with need, and then, much to his own surprise, he was coming without even touching himself, and his come spurted out so explosively that it sprayed his Master's chest. Skinner roared with laughter as Mulder lay there, seeing white lights all around him. "Sorry, Master," Mulder murmured dreamily, almost out of it.

"Don't worry, boy," Skinner said, grabbing his discarded shirt and wiping himself clean. "Your come belongs to me too!" He gave a deep chuckle, and then threw himself down beside his slave and took him in his arms.

They lay there for ages, gazing out of the window at the moonbeams glancing off the white snowy world outside. Downstairs they could still hear the sounds of dancing and laughter.

"Thank you," Skinner said suddenly, after more than an hour had passed.

"Mmm?" Mulder glanced up at his Master hazily. Skinner dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"For providing the entertainment. That was exhilarating."

"Ah." Mulder smiled. "Bet you'd begun to think I'd never initiate a scene, huh?"

"I was starting to wonder," Skinner chuckled. "But it was well worth the wait." He stretched out his big body, with a satisfied smile. "I thought, after seeing the way you reacted to hearing about David and Elaine's little arrangement, that maybe you wanted me to spank you down there in front of everyone," he said.

"Maybe another time," Mulder sighed. "What happened tonight was perfect. I wouldn't change any of it. You're really scary when you're jealous, Walter."

"Yeah." Skinner gave an amused grunt.

They were silent again for a long time and then it was Mulder's turn to speak.

"I think I can see it now, Walter," he murmured.

"See what?"

"Life without the rollercoaster. We can invent our own rides. I don't have to go into self destruct mode to make life interesting. That was something I was worried about."

Skinner hugged his slave tight and bestowed a kiss on the back of Mulder's neck.

"You're right. We don't need it. Although, knowing you, I'm figuring there will still be *some* rollercoaster rides we hadn't planned on."

Mulder gave a wry chuckle and stretched out - then moaned as every single nerve ending in his body protested the movement. "Oh god I ache. Why was it such a good scene, Walter?" He asked, stroking Skinner's chest idly.

"Because it was yours – that's exciting when you start a scene and someone else jumps in and runs with it," Skinner told him. "And maybe because it was rooted a little in reality. I *am* a very jealous man, Fox, and you…you've come into your own lately. You've grown and matured. You've been spreading your wings, preparing to fly – and while that's a good thing, it also can cause tensions in a relationship. We poured those tensions into a scene and made it hot."

"But you think the underlying tensions are still there?" Mulder looked deep into his Master's brown eyes.

"Yes." Skinner gave him a wan smile. "They have to be, Fox. I always wanted you to get this far but I knew that if you did it would inevitably decrease your dependence on me. I wanted to wean you off the self destructive behaviour though. I wanted you to see yourself and your needs more clearly, and be happy with them. If, in the end, that means you need to move on one day, then so be it. Nothing stays the same forever."

"Not even us?" Mulder frowned, trying to get his head around this new knowledge.

"Not if it isn't right for us both," Skinner replied.

"I don't want anyone else!" Mulder protested. "You've got no reason to be jealous."

"I know." Skinner kissed Mulder's lips with infinite gentleness and care.

"You're like my ultimate fucking wet dream and…a whole damn lot more as you well know," Mulder told him.

"Yes…but maybe we'll both want more one day. You might want more freedom and I…"

"You?" Mulder asked, feeling his breath catch in his chest.

"I might want more commitment," Skinner murmured.

"I asked you to brand me. What greater commitment is there than that?" Mulder replied, in a choked voice.

"Not your body. I know I can have that. I know you'd give me that because you like what I do to it and the way that makes you feel."

"You have my heart too," Mulder chided softly.

"Yes…but you never trust yourself enough to give all of it to me," Skinner replied, in a sad voice. Mulder gazed at him silently in the darkness. He understood what his Master was referring to. It was hard to put into words but he understood it. He worshipped his Master, he adored him, but Skinner was asking him to love Walter, the man behind the Master, and although Mulder honestly knew that he did, he was still afraid to commit himself totally and irrevocably to that emotion in case he let Walter down, the way he felt he'd let down so many other people in his life, from his distant father and ailing mother to his lost sister – and Walter, out of all of the people who had ever loved him, was the one, above all the others, who Mulder really didn't want to hurt. Better not to commit than to hurt Walter, a voice inside him insistently whispered, and Mulder didn't know how to make it go away. He wrapped his arms more firmly around his Master and kissed Skinner's mouth with as much love as he knew how to give.

"I do love you, Walter," he said, and his Master wrapped his arms around his slave in turn and kissed him back.

"I know," he whispered.

"Hey," Mulder said softly. "Of all the people I danced with tonight…there was one person I missed. Would Master care to dance with his slave?"

Skinner gave a little chuckle. "You hate dancing, Fox," he reminded him.

"Not any more. I felt like I kind of got the hang of it tonight – when I realised that it doesn't actually matter whether you're any good at it or not. So…" He got up, and held out his hand. "Would Master do me the honour?" He asked with a grin.

Skinner rolled his eyes but he accepted Mulder's hand anyway, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to stand, but the events of the day and the long, intense scene they'd just shared had taken their toll on his weary legs, and he staggered. Mulder ran forward and caught him, and Skinner hung onto his slave for a few seconds. 

"It's okay if you're too tired," Mulder said. "We don't have to."

"I *want* to dance with my slave," Skinner replied firmly. "You'll have to help me though. I'm beat."

"It'll be my pleasure," Mulder assured him softly, and he held his Master up, and allowed Skinner to rest his weight on him. He was surprised to find how much he liked the way Skinner leaned on him for support. It felt good. Mulder laced his arms around his Master's body, and they swayed together in time to the music floating up from downstairs. There had been so many revelations this past year, but he thought the most intense one, for him, had taken place these past few weeks, during Skinner's illness and recuperation and now, here, tonight. It felt good having a big, strong, loving Master, someone who could sweep all your worries away with a wave of his large, capable hands, someone to take care of you and look out for you…but, Mulder had to admit, it also felt good to be the one doing the take care occasionally. It felt good being the person the other guy leaned on, and knowing you were strong enough to do that – that your life didn't revolve around you and your needs, mental, emotional or sexual – that there was someone else who was just as important – more so, because you loved him more than you loved yourself. That felt best of all.

They swayed around the room for a long time, neither of them saying a word. Mulder thought they probably looked bizarre, himself naked, his Master clothed only in a pair of leather trousers, both of them covered in little bites and scratches from their vigorous sex session, but he didn't give a damn about that. He didn't give a damn about anything except showing his Master – no, showing *Walter* - how much he loved him. At some point, he felt all the tension go out of Skinner's body, and his Master lowered his head and rested it on Mulder's shoulder, and that, Mulder thought to himself as he danced serenely around the room with his Master in his arms, was better than all the most explosive orgasms in the world.

Mulder woke feeling stiff the next day. He took one look at his sleeping Master and decided to go and make some coffee to bring to his Master. He got up and stepped into the shower. His entire body ached but it was such a good ache. Looking down, he saw that he was covered with a multitude of little bruises and bite marks and he soaped them down proudly, tingling all over again when he remembered just how good the previous night's scene had been. He didn't want to think too much about the conversation that had followed it and skipped to that dreamy dancing instead, savouring the memory of his Master's muscled body under his hands, and the way Skinner had rested his head on his shoulder.

He got out of the shower, got dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, and then wandered downstairs. It was nearly noon, and several of the guests who had stayed overnight were already up. Mulder greeted Ian, and they both laughed as Murray told an outrageously obscene joke. He felt totally at ease in this company, and in his own skin, as he talked to the various people in the kitchen. Suddenly, looking around at the assembled guests in their various stages of undress, Mulder realised that he didn't have a clue who was a top and who was submissive. They were all just people, and, to be honest, it didn't really matter any more. It had only mattered when he had been ashamed of who he was and what he wanted. Now he could see that all these people were just like him, one way or another. Nobody was any better or any worse. It felt good – he felt, at last, as if he belonged. He stayed for several minutes, chatting easily, and then bumped into his old nemesis, Lee.

"Hey, Mulder." Lee, whose hair was now several shades of vermillion, still had an annoying habit of smirking whenever he met Mulder. He looked as beautiful as ever, his wide almond eyes and soft, tan skin clashing with the vermillion hair to give him an appealing, exotic look. "I saw your Master drag you off the dancefloor last night. Looked like he was pretty pissed with you."

"It was a scene, Lee," Mulder explained patiently, as if talking to an idiot. Lee frowned, clearly annoyed at having the wind taken out of his sails just as he was working himself up into full 'taunt' mode.

"Well, where's your Master now? If you're down here then I guess he's up in bed alone. I wonder if he needs any company?" Lee goaded. Mulder gazed at him blankly, wondering how on earth he'd ever let this insect get under his skin.

"Be my guest, Lee," he said pleasantly. "I'm pretty sure Walter will throw you out of the window but if you want to risk it then up you go."

Lee gave him a vicious glare, and then turned his back on Mulder and stalked away – but not, Mulder noted, in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Ah, it's amazing how some people change and others stay exactly the same," a voice commented, and Mulder turned to see Murray standing there, watching. "You're a good cub, Mulder. A handful, and headstrong – but I think we're all starting to understand what Walter always saw in you now. Hmm?" He reached out a surprisingly strong arm, pulled Mulder into a warm embrace against his chest, pressed a kiss against Mulder's forehead and then released him again, and was gone. Mulder stood there, stunned, and then remembered his Master and quickly made the coffee and took it upstairs.

Skinner was still asleep when he returned. Mulder put the coffee down on the nightstand, and kissed his Master awake.

"Hey," Skinner said groggily.

"I think your friends all thought I'd run out on you when you were ill," Mulder commented, sitting down on the bed beside his Master.

"Yeah, well, they don't know you the way I do." Skinner smiled. "You’ve always been loyal to everyone you love, Fox. Loyal to your mom when god knows she didn't seem to deserve it, loyal to Scully – and most of all loyal to your lost sister. I don't think you give yourself enough credit for that."

Mulder felt himself colouring at the compliment and changed the subject hurriedly. "Oh – that reminds me, when Elaine first mentioned getting married, you looked as if you weren't sure we could make it – you had to look up the date in your diary. What was that about?" It had vaguely bugged him at the time but he'd forgotten all about it until now. Skinner gave him a little smile.

"I wanted to make sure it didn’t clash with next week," he replied.

"What's next week?" Mulder frowned.

"It's the anniversary of the day I took you as my slave. Next Saturday to be precise. One year, Fox. It's been a year."

"Shit," Mulder said, shaking his head.

"Yeah – and luckily, it happens to fall on Saturday. Slave's day. I have something special planned for that day," Skinner said mysteriously.

"Mmmm…and I suppose that you won't tell me what," Mulder sighed, snuggling against his Master and allowing Skinner to wrap a big arm around him.

"Now, now, boy. You know that…"

"'Anticipation is half the pleasure,'" Mulder quoted. "Yeah. I know. Or at least I should since that's what you've been telling me for a whole year now."

"You'll find out on the day," Skinner promised, sipping his drink. He leaned down and gave Mulder a coffee scented kiss and Mulder opened up his mouth for more, his head spinning. A slave's day anniversary had to be good – he couldn't wait.

They left early – the following day would be Skinner's first day back at work since his illness, and Mulder wanted to make sure that his Master got his rest. It felt strange the following day to bring his Master his coffee, give him his customary wake up call, receive his usual morning spanking, help his Master wash and dress…and know that he wouldn't be going to work with the big man. Mulder didn't regret his decision, but it had been easier to live with when it had been some nebulous thing in his future, and now the reality of it was kicking in and he felt at sea.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with this?" Skinner asked, as Mulder smoothed his Master's dark navy suit jacket over Skinner's broad shoulders.

"I don't have a choice," Mulder replied with a shrug.

"You can change your mind." Skinner's dark eyes were sombre.

"I already told you – my resignation letter is on your desk…and besides, I think the price of me changing my mind is more than either of us would like to pay."

"Maybe so." Skinner gave a deep, weary sigh. "But I hate that they're essentially blackmailing you into this, Fox."

"It'll be fine. I told you – there's a lot of stuff I always wanted to do if I only had the time. Now…I guess I do. It feels weird but I suppose I'll get used to it. I can always hang out with the Lone Gunmen playing video games all day if I get bored." He grinned at his Master. "Or cards. Or role playing games. Or…"

"Not without my goddamn permission," Skinner growled and Mulder laughed. "Speaking of which, you do know you have my permission to go after the bastards that did this to us, don't you?" Skinner told him softly. "If there's a way, if it's possible to nail them – I'll be right there with you. Just keep me in the loop – run everything past me. I know you will anyway, but I'm saying that I'll help. I want to be free of them just as much as you do – but if you want to let it drop then I'm with you on that too. If you just want to live out the rest of your life writing, or…" Skinner smiled, "being my slave, then that's fine as well, although I don't think it'll ever be enough for you not to have an outlet for that ingenious brain of yours. I know it's too early for you to be making any decisions on this, but I want you to know that I'll support you – whatever you decide to do."

"Thanks." Mulder nodded. "That means a lot to me, Master."

"Oh, and there's something I had done while we were away overnight," Skinner said, grabbing Mulder's arm and pulling him towards the staircase leading to the 18^th floor apartment. Mulder followed his Master, mystified, and he was even more mystified when Skinner led him to the room that had been his old bedroom when he had first arrived here as a new slave, nearly a year ago.

"Close your eyes," Skinner said. Mulder did as ordered. He heard Skinner open the door and he was walked inside, guided by his Master's hand on his shoulder. "Okay. Open them again," Skinner told him, and Mulder looked around – to find himself in a fully equipped study. The bed, nightstand and closet that had been here when this was his bedroom were gone. In their place was an expensive oak desk, several bookshelves complete with many of his books, a supply of pens, pads of paper, a telephone, his computer…and there, right above his desk, was his I want to believe poster. His fish completed the tranquil working environment, swimming happily around their tank in the corner of the room. "I realise this is a big change for you," Skinner said, "but I hope you'll find this a good place to work. I thought you might like to have the peace and quiet of this apartment as your office. You've got the en suite bathroom and the kitchen is nearby of course. I thought it might be helpful, psychologically, if you had somewhere else to go rather than our own apartment. So it felt like there was a clear demarcation between work and home."

"It's…" Mulder gazed around the room, lost for words.

"Will you be able to work here d'you think?" Skinner asked him. "Will it do?"

"Walter – I used to work in a basement, and you've put me up high among the stars," Mulder said, startled into lyricism by the unexpectedness of the gesture. "I think this will do just fine," he added softly. "It's perfect, Walter."

"Good." Skinner planted a kiss on his slave's cheek. "By the way – I also had some, uh, amendments made to the Playroom while we were away too. I know I can trust you not to peek in there before Saturday, but I'm just warning you not to go inside or it'll spoil the surprise on Slave's Day."

"Mmm. I'm so looking forward to this Saturday you have planned," Mulder grinned. They both knew that Mulder wouldn't peek in the Playroom. They also both knew that the Mulder who Skinner had first taken as his slave wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation, but that Mulder hadn't so much changed as matured, Mulder thought to himself, as he walked back downstairs with his Master and watched Skinner leave the apartment.

It felt strange at first. Mulder found himself making frequent cups of coffee and then running to the bathroom as a result, just to avoid sitting down and starting the huge, empty canvass that was his future working life. Then he clicked on his email and found Scully's request for a lunch date which cheered him up, and another few clicks brought up an email from one of his old correspondents bringing his attention to a mysterious case in Wisconsin that tied in with something he'd worked on a few years before, and that prompted him to go back to his old notes on the subject and before he knew it several hours had passed and he had written a chapter plan for the book he intended to write. He also emailed his Master for permission to fly to Wisconsin later in the month to do some more in-depth research. Somehow, Mulder doubted he'd be happy sitting behind a desk writing all day…he still needed to get out and do some fieldwork…but he could at least see what his future might be – and he felt content with it.

Someone else was very content to have him around as well. He'd been in his new office for less than an hour when the door was pushed open and he had a visitor. She leapt onto his lap, almost spilling his 3^rd cup of coffee in the process, and proceeded to settle down while he worked around her warm, soft, sleepy, permanently purring body. Wanda spent the entire day on his lap, and was thereafter his constant companion whenever he was at home working.

"Y'know…I used to think you didn't like me," Mulder told her at one point, rubbing her ears and listening to her purring ecstatically. "But really I think you were just waiting for me to like you so you could add another slave to the one you already have. You played a clever waiting game, and I have to say you've won, Madam. You beat me. I worship at your altar, M'lady, and bow before your dainty paws." He bent his head and kissed her soft forehead and she tilted her head up to meet his lips. "Ah, you and I both know how good it is to be a pet, to be stroked and loved, don't we?" He grinned at her, and she trilled back her response. It *was* good, he thought to himself, but he also knew it wasn't the end of the journey. He could live like this forever, cocooned inside this comfortable world of slave, Master and cat, and he knew he could be as happy as Wanda here, safely wrapped up on his knee, but he was growing and he could see that one day the gilded cage might no longer be as attractive as it was now. He wasn't sure when that day would be, but he could sense the change in himself and he didn't know what it presaged or where it would lead him. It didn't scare him, as it might once have done, into going off and doing something stupid, but he was quietly aware that a change was in the process of taking place.

The week passed in a blur, but Mulder felt increasingly excited as Saturday drew near. He knew that whatever his Master had in mind for him would be good – it was such a special occasion, and Skinner had shown himself to have a very inventive erotic imagination. It was fortunate that their anniversary fell at the end of his first week working on his own, as it gave him something to focus on and look forward to, and that eased the transition slightly.

His Master didn't make him wait too long for his gift on Slave's Day. They ate a leisurely brunch together and then Skinner handed him a parcel tied up in brown paper. "Open it," he ordered.

Mulder glanced at his Master and then pulled the string on the parcel. The paper slid away easily, to reveal an orange prison jumpsuit…and a pair of hard, metal handcuffs. Mulder glanced at his Master with a frown.

"Get changed," Skinner said, his poker face giving nothing away.

Mulder quickly scrambled into the clothes, leaving the handcuffs on the table, unsure what to do with them. When he was dressed, Skinner stood up, and picked up the handcuffs.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back," he ordered. Mulder did as he'd been told, and a second later he gave a little groan of arousal as the metal cuffs clicked into place. This was already hot and it had barely even begun. Skinner rarely used metal cuffs on him – they were usually too restrictive and besides, both men were used to handling these cuffs as the tools of their trade and that made them a little less erotic. However, there was something about the feel of the cold metal on his wrists, which, combined with his Master's increasingly surly demeanour, got to Mulder, and he felt his groin respond accordingly. There was something delicious about being pushed, barefoot, his hands in their bonds, his Master's heavy hand on his shoulder, up the stairs towards the 18^th floor apartment.