24/7 20. Dungeons and Dragons

 

Mulder felt as if he was floating. He couldn’t remember ever having felt this relaxed, or content, this still, and peaceful. He was warm. The sun was shining through a window, and he was an integral part of a mound of hot human flesh entangled with a soft, vibrating feline presence.  His head was resting on a broad chest, his ear tickled by curls of chest hair, and he could hear a heart beating in time to the steady purr that was emanating from the general direction of his chin. Lazily, he opened one eye, and found himself looking into unblinking yellow-green orbs. Wanda gave an explosive purr on seeing that he was awake, and arched her dainty back along the length of Skinner’s torso, which was where she was stretched, both front paws languidly draped on Mulder’s arm which was, in turn, flung over his Master’s chest. Damn but it felt good here, being part of this feline/human triad: too good to move. Outside, the sound of waves ebbing and falling on the seashore lulled him, while inside, the sound of his Master’s heartbeat and Wanda’s purring had a similar, soporific effect. Mulder lay still, just soaking up the moment, his head turned fractionally so that he could gaze at his Master’s sleeping form.

 

Skinner slept, as always, as if he owned the bed, and everything in it, which, Mulder reflected, wasn’t far from the truth. That thought gave him a warm glow of contentment, and he pressed his lips reverently to Skinner’s chest, and bestowed a tender kiss on the other man’s honey-toned flesh. Skinner didn’t move. He was a deep sleeper at the best of times and they had been late to bed the previous night. Mulder loved watching his Master in repose. Skinner always looked younger and more vulnerable without his glasses, and the trappings of his status as Mulder’s Master.  The cut on his chin had yielded a bruise that stood out in livid hues against the tan color of his flesh. Mulder found another bruise on his Master’s ribs, but they were the only legacies of Skinner’s fight with Krycek. Mulder wished he could have been there to witness his Master taking care of their old enemy. Somehow, he knew that the event had been accomplished efficiently, with the minimum of intrigue or fuss. Skinner would have arrived in the middle of the night, let himself in to the other man’s apartment, and taken him by surprise. Krycek would have been allowed one free shot in the scuffle, and then Skinner would have subdued him – quickly, and efficiently, without raising his voice or losing his temper. Mulder shivered. There was something particularly ruthless about the thought of his Master calmly exacting from Krycek precisely what the other man had visited upon Skinner’s slave. The level of calculation that had taken was more impressive and chilling than if Skinner had just hit out at his enemy in rage, not caring where the blows fell. Mulder processed this new information about his Master in his profiler’s mind, as he gazed at the other man’s sleeping form. Skinner was a man of such complexity, that he felt as if he was only now getting to know him.

 

Here was a man who had run from his own emotions for so many years that by the time he stopped to face them he was weak from exhaustion, and crippled by his own feelings of self-loathing. It had taken a man as clever and devoted as Andrew Linker to draw forth the Master Mulder knew so well from the wreckage that had been Skinner’s life after his wife’s death. Somehow, Andrew had found the sensual man inside the AD, and helped him become the living, breathing embodiment of the perfect Master. Then there were the contradictions; the big, strong man who was in thrall to a small, dainty, imperious cat. The experienced, legendary top, who willingly put himself under the lash when his own emotions got the better of him. The hard-assed boss who time and again moved heaven and earth for his chosen, troublesome slave and subordinate. The serious man with an appalling taste in puns, and one line ripostes. Skinner was stern Master and tender lover, hard taskmaster and curiously gentle friend at one and the same time. Friend. Mulder paused at that thought. He had never yet had a lover who had also been a friend. He had never expected to find a Master who would fill that role. In his fantasies, his faceless Master had always been cruel, and demanding, almost dehumanizing – Skinner couldn’t have been more different than the fantasy. After last night, there was nothing Mulder couldn’t imagine being able to share with his Master. He could quite literally tell the other man anything and everything. He had never been in a relationship like this. It felt…good. He felt happy. Curled up here, part of this Master/slave/Wanda unit, he knew that he had at last found a place where he belonged.

 

Mulder dozed for another hour, enjoying the peace and sense of belonging, then finally stirred, and glanced at the clock – then glanced back in surprise. It was nearly noon. He couldn’t believe how long they’d slept, and yet they had both needed the rest after the traumatic intensity of the past few weeks. Mulder slid quietly out of the bed, and padded along the corridor to the bathroom. He peed, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror tiles that lined the room.

 

“Shit, Murray – did you have to cover this entire room in mirror tiles?” he chided their absent host. “I do not look good right after waking up.” It was impossible to avoid seeing his naked body from all angles as he peed, and there was something curiously arousing about watching himself holding his own cock. He finished, and was unsurprised to find himself half hard. Somehow, he had the feeling his cock was going to be spending the next couple of weeks in an almost permanent state of arousal, and, equally, he knew he was only going to be allowed to come with his Master’s permission. That delicious thought made his cock harden even more, and it looked absurd, jutting out from his body and reflected back at him all around the bathroom. If he looked straight ahead, he could see his butt reflected in the tiles on the walls behind him. His white, unlined butt; smooth after many spank-less days. Too many.

 

“You are seriously kinky, Murray,” he observed. He filled the basin with cool water and washed his face, and smoothed his sleep-mussed hair, then looked at himself again.  The bruises on his body and face had faded almost to nothing, and all that remained as a reminder of what had happened in Seattle was a chipped tooth, and the raised scar on his chest. Mulder looked at the carved wound without flinching. Last night, Skinner had kissed it, and touched it, and made it his and that had gone a long way to curing his phobia about the scar. Mulder ran his fingers along the edge of the wound. He still didn’t like the fact that it was there, but he could at least live with it now.

 

Mulder left the bathroom, and wandered down the wooden slatted stairs. It had been late by the time they had gone to bed last night, and Skinner hadn’t done more than show him where the kitchen and bathroom were before they both fell into bed, and immediately into a deep sleep. Mulder was aware of the honor of being allowed to share Skinner’s bed.  He hoped that was a situation that would continue throughout their vacation, but he wasn’t about to take anything for granted. He knew he was still on probation. He had won back the right to call the other man “Master”, but he was still a collarless slave, without status, and he was bitterly aware of his fall from grace. Having once been a collared slave, he would do anything to return to that state again. He wasn’t aware just how much it was a part of his psyche until he had lost it. The collar had been the outward symbol of his place in his Master’s life and the lack of it was a constant ache in his heart. He dreaded that Skinner would take him to another party, and that everyone would see he was collarless, and disgraced. He accepted that he had deserved the punishment, but the humiliation of his disgrace went very deep.

 

Mulder filled the kettle and put it on the stove, smiling to himself as he considered the irony of his position. He was a person of extreme independence. He had made his own decisions from a young age, and he was so determined a personality that nobody and nothing could stop him when he made up his mind to do something, however foolhardy and risky it was. Yet for so long he had been a restless soul, eaten up by guilt, and pain, and a voiceless need that had nearly destroyed him on countless occasions. All that had changed the moment he had accepted Skinner’s rings onto his body. They had been outward symbols of an inner truth: Mulder wanted to belong. He wanted to belong to someone who would allow him to keep his strength but would channel his self-destructive energies into the service of a Master as strong as himself. Mulder could turn his cool, rational profiling mind on himself, and had done, frequently, over the years. He usually understood himself all too well, with a bitterness and lack of compassion that he showed only towards himself. Now, though, he could see himself more calmly, through less jaundiced eyes than before, because now he was loved. Now he saw himself reflected back through his Master’s eyes, and if his Master found his slave pleasing, who was Mulder to disagree with the man he worshipped?

 

There had been many times when Skinner had made him look at himself. In fact, Skinner seemed to enjoy making his slave view himself in his most abject and basic condition. Marked, naked, bound, willing, and eager, his Master’s marks and symbols adorning his body – Skinner had always taken great delight in displaying his slave to himself. He had made Mulder look into the mirror, had pointed out the marks he’d made on his slave’s skin, the rings he’d threaded through his slave’s flesh, the bonds he used to bind his slave, and slowly, so slowly, Mulder had come to see himself through his Master’s eyes. Skinner saw not a weak, pathetic slave, but someone who had handed up his body voluntarily to his Master’s whim, offering him a gift of all that he was, and could ever be, without qualification, or hesitation, or proviso, making no terms as to how the gift was used – merely accepting. He had offered himself in totality, holding nothing back, because his own self was all he could give to his Master in return for the other man’s love and affection. Skinner relished his gift, played with it, adored and protected it like the precious treasure that it was to him. He wanted Mulder to appreciate it as much as he did. He took such joy in his slave that he wanted his slave to see what he saw, to love what he loved – and in some way that Mulder couldn’t even begin to understand, he was starting to do just that.

 

Mulder sipped his coffee, then wandered over to the window, and glanced out. It was beautiful – the sun was high in the sky, and the sea was a shimmering silvery-blue. He heard a rumbling sound around his feet, and something soft rubbing against his ankles and reached down to lift Wanda up against his chest. She nuzzled against his scar, clearly deeming it irrelevant in her universe, and Mulder smiled, and tickled her ears. She gazed out of the window at the sea, her ears flicking back and forth, and her pupils dilating.

 

“What does the apartment cat make of the big bad world, huh?” Mulder crooned, tickling her under the chin to soothe her. She trilled and nestled into him, her gaze still transfixed by the sea – or, more accurately, by the seagulls that were flying around outside squawking. “So, where’s the dungeon, Wanda?” Mulder asked, which was the thought that had been uppermost in his mind since he woke. He imagined a basement, with cold, stone walls, manacles hanging from menacing hooks. He saw himself bound naked to a rack, his tall, strong Master bending over him, while he tormented him to ever greater heights of pleasure. Mulder glanced around, wondering where the dungeon might be, and whether he dared sneak a peek at it, but he guessed that Skinner would wake soon, and he wanted to give his Master a wake up call that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, so, reluctantly, he decided against further exploration.

 

Mulder finished his coffee, and placed Wanda on the kitchen table, then poured his Master a cup of coffee, and padded silently upstairs to the bedroom. He opened the drapes, and then gazed around the room in shock. It had been dark the previous night, and he’d been too tired and spaced out to look around, but the room they were in was frankly…unique. The bright yellow walls were covered with erotic homosexual art, much of it primitive and crude, hanging in huge wooden frames. Mulder stared at pictures of a kneeling man deep-throating a laughing, budda-esque figure that looked suspiciously like Murray, and swallowed hard. He looked closer at the kneeling figure and saw that it resembled Hammer. Glancing around the room, he saw that all the pictures were in fact of their host and his sub having wild, frenzied, unrestrained sex in all manner of positions. Mulder felt almost as if he was intruding, although he had to admit that the artwork was definitely inspiring. That thought made him turn his attention back to his Master. Skinner was still asleep, his whole body sprawled out over the sheets, taking up as much room as possible. Mulder smiled, placed the coffee on the nightstand, and then slid beneath the sheets and located his Master’s sleeping cock. He licked it, lazily, and it stirred beneath his ministrations, as it always did. Mulder wasn’t in a hurry though. He wanted this to be a nice, slow wake up call for his Master.  It had been so long since he’d delivered a wake up call, and he wanted to make it good. It certainly felt good for the slave; Mulder gently lapped at his Master’s hardening penis, and then took it into his mouth. He guessed that Skinner was now awake, because his Master made a small, throaty sound, and twisted slightly, his hips bucking up into Mulder’s eager mouth. Mulder slid his Master’s cock reverentially back and forth between his moist lips, and then finally deep throated it in a move that made his Master gasp out loud. A hand appeared on his head, and grabbed his hair, and he sucked hard, delighting in the way he could send his Master into such a frenzied state so easily.

 

He tasted Skinner’s come, and continued sucking until he was sure that his Master was done, and then crawled back up the bed, smiling to himself, to find his Master wide awake, his dark eyes full of affection.

 

“I’m glad to see you’ve remembered your place, boy,” Skinner murmured, and Mulder grinned and dared to steal a kiss from his Master’s lips. Skinner grunted, and grabbed his slave’s butt cheeks, kneading them as he responded hungrily to the kiss. Mulder’s cock dug into his Master’s thigh, hard, and aroused, but he had no expectation of being allowed to come. The kiss finished, and Skinner stroked his slave’s butt, his expression thoughtful. “It strikes me that this butt is a good deal too cool, boy,” he growled. “It’s been allowed to get away without correction for too long, and that’s made you bold.”

 

“Yes, Master, sorry, Master,” Mulder said without any shred of sincerity, delighting in saying the word Master. Skinner chuckled, and slapped his slave’s ass again, and Mulder moaned and lifted his butt up eagerly for more – which wasn’t forthcoming.

 

“I think I mentioned that you are subject to some intensive re-training for the next couple of weeks,” Skinner said.

 

Mulder nodded. “Yes, Master.” He angled his head forward and stole a kiss from Skinner’s neck, then tried to go back to his Master’s mouth and was stopped by another slap on the ass.

 

“Master- permission to kiss you, Master,” Mulder said hopefully.

 

“That’s better. Permission granted.” Skinner pulled his slave’s body close as Mulder angled his head down again. He opened his mouth as his lips met those of his Master, and their tongues immediately twined, passionately claiming each other. Skinner’s hands were never still, constantly kneading his slave’s butt, and occasionally his fingers disappeared into Mulder’s crease, pushing inside his slave’s body. Mulder moaned, and twisted on his Master’s fingers, opening up his ass, hoping that his Master would use him. It was a forlorn hope.

 

“Very nice, boy,” Skinner chuckled when they parted. “You know, I think it’s possible that you might have missed me.”

 

“I did, Master.” Mulder nodded, daring to drop his head and kiss his Master’s nipple. He was rewarded with a smack on his butt, which only emboldened him to kiss the other nipple. Another smack sent his cock leaping.  “I’d like to show Master how much I missed him,” Mulder said slyly. Skinner gazed at him for a moment, a smile in his eyes. He knew he was being manipulated, but his expression said that he was more than happy to go along with it – for now.

 

“Very well, boy. Show me.” Skinner moved his pillow and lay propped up on it, looking at his slave expectantly.

 

“Where shall I begin?” Mulder asked, kneeling astride his Master and gazing down as if he wanted to consume the other man. “Perhaps at the top. I missed your head, Master.” He leaned forward, and bestowed several kisses on his Master’s bare scalp. “I missed my Master’s warm, naked flesh. I missed kissing it, and licking it.” He gently trailed his tongue along his Master’s bare head, and Skinner chuckled, and slapped his butt half-heartedly.

 

“Keep going, boy,” he ordered.

 

Thus emboldened, Mulder ended his wet trail at one of his Master’s ears. “I missed my Master’s beautiful, edible ears,” Mulder said, nibbling on a lobe. Skinner convulsed slightly, and slapped Mulder’s butt again.

 

“Edible?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

 

“Eminently so, Master,” Mulder replied, grinning.

 

“Carry on, boy,” Skinner commanded.

 

“I missed my Master’s dark, expressive eyes.” Mulder pressed his lips to Skinner’s eyelids, closing them with his tongue, and then kissed each one, “and I missed my Master’s perfect nose.” He kissed Skinner’s nose, and his Master grunted, clearly fighting back laughter. “I missed my Master’s firm jaw, and wide cheekbones, and most of all…” Mulder bestowed a kiss to each of those areas, and then ended up eyeball to eyeball with his Master. “I missed Master’s lips, and the taste of his kisses,” Mulder whispered, stealing another kiss from his Master’s mouth – one that was given very freely. He disengaged reluctantly, and moved further down. “I missed the small dimple in my Master’s chin.” Mulder kissed it, and then went further, “and his broad, strong neck.” He bestowed several kisses on Skinner’s neck, and then moved again, sliding back along his Master’s body as he went. “I missed my Master’s broad chest…” He ran his hands over Skinner’s chest, fondling each of his Master’s nipples as he did so. “And, of course,” Mulder paused, and drew back the sheet dramatically. Skinner’s cock stirred under his slave’s gaze. “His long legs,” Mulder grinned, bypassing Skinner’s genitals. Skinner growled and Mulder turned, offering his butt to his Master as he kissed his way down said long legs, and all the way to his Master’s feet. Skinner used Mulder’s ass as a drum as his slave worked, tapping out a beat on his slave’s white buttocks. “I missed Master’s cute feet, and his exquisitely perfect toes,” Mulder said. Skinner guffawed, and then grunted, and gave Mulder’s ass a sharp swat as his slave took each of his Master’s golden toes in his mouth and sucked on them. Mulder finished sucking and began working his way back up his Master’s body. “Hmm…I’m sure there’s something else I missed,” he murmured, feigning a puzzled look. Skinner was laughing now, as well as trying to look stern, and displeased. Mulder grinned, delighted that he was amusing his Master so much. “I remember!” he announced. Skinner raised an expectant eyebrow. “I missed my Master’s taut, bite-able butt,” Mulder said, nuzzling his face against the side of one butt cheek which was all he could reach with his Master lying on his back.

 

“Bite-able? Just you try, boy,” Skinner warned.

 

“I wouldn’t dare, Master,” Mulder replied. He sat astride his Master again. “I think I’ve finished,” he said, still grinning.

 

“Are you sure there wasn’t something you missed?” Skinner asked, dangerously.

 

“Hmmmm, I don’t think so,” Mulder replied, feigning a thoughtful expression.

 

“Are you sure, boy, or will a trip over my knee refresh your memory?” Skinner asked.

 

“A trip over Master’s knee will refresh more than my memory,” Mulder riposted, glancing down at his half erect cock.

 

“Perhaps we should see…” Skinner rose up and grabbed his giggling slave, threw him face down over his knee, and delivered several deliciously stinging swats to Mulder’s wriggling, eager ass. Mulder writhed, and panted, and gasped, and called out, all the time loving every second of the light spanking.

 

“I’ve remembered something else, Master!” he cried at last.

 

“Well.” Skinner righted him and looked at him expectantly.

 

“I missed Master’s big, strong, hard, pounding, throbbing, pulsing…”

 

“All right, boy. I think I get the idea,” Skinner interrupted, his eyes alight with amusement.

 

“…huge, delicious, pulsating, claiming, filling, totally gorgeous, completely edible, and utterly satisfying…” Mulder dropped his face to Skinner’s hardening penis. “…cock,” he finished, enunciating the final ‘k’, with a lascivious click of his teeth, and licking his lips salaciously at the same time. Skinner broke into a wide smile, and Mulder bestowed a big kiss on the member in question, delighting in the fact that he could make his Master so full of lust for him that he was already showing signs of arousal so soon after last time.

 

“Come here, scamp.” Skinner pulled his slave back down onto his broad chest, and kissed Mulder’s forehead. Mulder went obediently, and lay still on his Master’s body, sighing contentedly.  Skinner’s big hands gently caressed his slave’s warm bottom.

 

“One other thing I missed and am glad to have back, Master,” Mulder murmured, glancing up.

 

“Hmm?” Skinner continued stroking his slave’s ass, gently fondling Mulder’s body.

 

“The right to call you Master.”

 

“Ah, that must explain why you’ve been working the word into every sentence,” Skinner said with an amused grunt.

 

“Yes, Master. Also…” Mulder paused, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Will Master allow me some hope of ever winning back my collar?”

 

“There’s always hope, boy.” Skinner gazed down on his slave affectionately. “If you do well during the next two weeks, and if you can keep that up when we return to work, then I have every expectation that I’ll be sending out invitations to your collaring ceremony sometime in the not too far distant future.

 

“Invitations? You’ll collar me publicly?” Mulder whispered, his heart thumping inside his chest.

 

“Of course. Not only that,” Skinner promised, “if I invite our friends to witness your collaring then I’ll want to make sure they’re kept amused and entertained. It will be an ideal opportunity to show off how obedient my slave is, how well he has submitted to the re-training process, and all the things he’s learned with a willing, eager heart. I want them to see what a credit he is to both his Master, and himself.”

 

Mulder swallowed hard. He saw himself in his mind’s eye, blindly following Skinner’s every order, no matter how hard or personally uncomfortable, being watched by a room full of people, and his cock hardened immediately.

 

“Thank you, Master,” he whispered.

 

“My pleasure, slave,” Skinner replied, stroking his slave’s hair gently. “One thing, Fox. I’ll be disciplining you in front of our guests as well, so you need to become accustomed to that idea.”

 

“Disciplining me…?” Mulder looked up, his heart sinking into his shoes at this unexpected turn of events. He had only ever been disciplined in front of Ian and Donald before, and, briefly, in front of their close friends at the dinner party Skinner had held. He had found the former occasion in particular to be utterly humiliating, and he had no wish to repeat it.

 

“Yes, slave. Any complaints?” Skinner asked, raising a dangerous eyebrow.

 

“I won’t like it, Master,” Mulder said, burying his face in Skinner’s neck.

 

“I know. Think of it as a final act of contrition in order to win back your collar. It will be hard, and vigorous – you’ll cry. I’ll make you do that much in front of our friends. I won’t stop until you’re begging for it to end. I want you completely chastened when I put my collar on you again, boy. Then the slate will be wiped clean, and we can both go forward. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Mulder muttered into Skinner’s neck, his whole body trembling.

 

“Good boy.” His Master’s hands soothed his back gently. “That’s a long way off yet, Fox. For now, I want to concentrate of relaxing, and rediscovering exactly why you’re the best slave boy this side of Reticular.”

 

“I could point out that we don’t know what the Reticulan slave boys are like,” Mulder said, sitting up with a grin. “Or any other alien slave boys come to that.

 

“And I would reply that they could come with ten foot cocks, and lush, spank-able butts, but the fact remains that you are the only slave boy I want in my harem, Fox.”

 

“Thank you, Master.” Mulder’s face broke into a wide grin.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me if I were you.” Skinner smiled, dangerously. “After all, if I only have one slaveboy, then he has to do all the work, and submit to all his Master’s vicious impulses, without having anyone to share the torment with…” He reached up, took hold of each of Mulder’s nipples, and squeezed, hard. Mulder yelped, and squirmed. “Stay still, boy,” Skinner growled, “hands behind your back. Submit to your Master’s will.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Mulder swallowed hard, his cock hardening immediately.

 

“Good boy.” Skinner stroked and pinched the nubs of flesh for several minutes, and Mulder put his head back, enjoying his Master’s attention. Last night’s lovemaking was still a beautiful, treasured memory, and he longed for them to return to their old insatiable sexual relationship. It turned him on so much being this man’s slave, worshipping him, and submitting to his every whim, however painful. He was fully erect within seconds, as Skinner sat up, and pulled him close, then latched his mouth onto his slave’s nipples, and sucked and nibbled at them until it was all Mulder could do to keep still. Skinner’s lips gently brushed Mulder’s scar, kissing and licking at it, reinforcing the message he had drummed into his slave last night, that his scar was part of him, and as loved as the rest of him, then his lips traveled back to Mulder’s nipples again, and attacked them in earnest. Mulder began to moan, his eyes half closed, sweat breaking out on his body from the effort of keeping in position. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Skinner drew back, and slapped his slave heartily on the butt.

 

“Time for a shower, I think,” he grinned, and then he eased himself out from under his slave and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. Mulder knelt there, reeling from the sudden absence of his Master.

 

“Bastard,” he muttered.

 

“I heard that,” Skinner called from the corridor.

 

“Spank me then,” Mulder teased, rolling off the bed and going to join his Master in the mirror tiled bathroom. “Oh god, how can Murray and Hammer stand being in this room,” Mulder said, wincing as he caught sight of his swollen, throbbing cock, reflected back at him all around from every single conceivable angle.

 

“Judicious use of blindfolds perhaps?” Skinner suggested, with a knowingly raised eyebrow. He stepped into the shower, and Mulder grinned, and stepped in beside him, but there were no fun and games on offer. His Master didn’t command him to soap his body, and merely set about washing himself before tossing the soap to his slave, and stepping out again. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and disappeared into the other room. Mulder stared after him, perplexed, wondering if these were some new rules he didn’t know about, or understand.

 

He finished his own shower and then wandered back into the bedroom. Skinner was already dressed, in a pair of denim shorts, and a tee shirt. Mulder stared at his Master: he had never seen the other man dressed this informally, and it was, he had to admit…nice. Not sexy, but just nice. Comfortable. Skinner didn’t look like his Master any more; he just looked like a regular guy on vacation. Mulder finished drying himself and toweled his hair, then sat on the end of the bed, looking a little lost. He didn’t know if he was allowed to dress – he wasn’t in their apartment, but now they were on vacation, and their lives had been so different recently anyway that their old routines seemed a lifetime away. He gazed at his Master as Skinner grabbed some sunscreen, and started lathering it on his arms, and bare scalp. Mulder felt this was a task he should perform, but his Master didn’t ask, and he didn’t know whether that was on purpose or not. Confused, he just sat, watching.

 

“Hurry up,” Skinner urged, seeing he wasn’t moving. “I brought your things – they’re in the green suitcase. Oh, and make sure you slap plenty of this on. It’s looking pretty hot outside and the only part of your body I want to see glowing red is your ass – and not because it’s been sunburned.” Skinner tossed him the tube of sunscreen, and then left the bedroom. Mulder got up, still perplexed. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. True, Skinner had given him a cursory spanking, but it was a long way from the morning discipline he’d come to expect. He had expected orders, and punishments, a list of rules, and tasks to perform – a general framework in which he could show that he had learned, and grown, that he was truly contrite about the whole Seattle fiasco, and that he was genuine in his desire to win back his collar. How could he show Skinner how good a slave he was if his Master wasn’t asking him to be a slave at all?

 

Confused, Mulder wandered over to the suitcase, and opened it. He rummaged through it, and found that Skinner had packed a comprehensive array of garments, mostly vacation wear such as shorts, and tee shirts, but also a pair of jeans, and chinos, and a couple of smarter shirts, and even one tie. His Master hadn’t forgotten anything. There was underwear, footwear, and even a bag of toiletries. Mulder didn’t bother to unpack. He rarely did whenever he stayed in hotel rooms anyway – he lived out of a suitcase, and ignored Scully’s pointed remarks about crumpled suits. His suits usually ended up covered in green goo, or full or bullet holes anyway, so he had long since stopped caring about them.

 

Mulder pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a navy cotton shirt, and a pair of sneakers, and then trotted down the stairs. He didn’t feel like a slave, dressed like this. Was that the point? Was Skinner saying that after what had happened he viewed Mulder more as a lover, and less as a slave? Mulder wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He enjoyed being the big man’s lover. That felt good, and he appreciated having gotten to know the man behind the Master, but he didn’t feel ready to change their relationship. The bottom line was – and Mulder smiled at the pun – he wanted to be Skinner’s slave. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

 

There was no sign of his Master in the kitchen. Mulder glanced around, and his heart skipped a beat as he wondered whether his Master was in the Dungeon, preparing some particularly nasty piece of equipment.

 

“Master?” He opened the kitchen door and found himself on a path leading down to the beach – and there, wearing sunglasses, and lying sprawled out on a sun lounger, reading a newspaper, was his Master. Mulder frowned, and wandered down the path.

 

“There you are,” he said to the other man.

 

Skinner glanced up. “Yup.” Mulder stood on one foot and made patterns in the sand with his other foot, feeling disgruntled. “Problem?” Skinner asked, shaking out his paper. Mulder sighed, and shrugged.

 

“No. Just wondering about breakfast, that’s all,” he murmured, glancing around the beach. He could hardly believe that this was the scene, just last night, of the most beautiful, intense love making of his life. Skinner had been masterful enough then, so why wasn’t he behaving more like a Master this morning?

 

“Yeah?” Skinner glanced up again. Mulder couldn’t see the expression in his Master’s eyes behind the dark glasses. They both looked at each other, as if waiting for something. Finally, Skinner sighed. “There’s food in the fridge. I brought groceries, and Murray always keeps the place well stocked.” He turned his attention back to his newspaper.

 

“Oh. Right. I’ll go and check that out. Uh, do you want some?” Mulder asked. Skinner lowered his paper very, very slowly, almost menacingly. Mulder had the feeling that he had said the wrong thing.

 

“That would be nice,” Skinner replied politely.

 

“Right. I’ll go and see what there is then.” Mulder turned on his heel, and marched back up to the house, feeling decidedly pissed off. What the hell had that been about? He returned with a mountain of toast and some fruit juice, and put them down on the sand between himself and his Master. He wasn’t sure where to sit – there was a small shed by the side of the house, and it was open, so he presumed the sun loungers were in there. Should he go and get one? Or did Skinner want him to sit on the sand?

 

“Are the sun loungers in there?” He asked in a neutral tone, pointing to the shed.

 

“I believe so.” Skinner crunched on a slice of toast.

 

“I…could go and get one?” Mulder suggested feebly. He felt horribly out of his depth. He knew suddenly that this was the reason why he never came on vacation. Vacations were confusing things, full of alien rituals, the smell of sunscreen, and too much time to ponder dark, nasty thoughts. Then there was also the problem of sand getting into your sneakers. No wonder it had been ten years since had last taken a beach vacation. Skinner was looking at him from behind those dark glasses, and Mulder had the feeling that if he could see into his Master’s eyes, he would discover something very revealing. Finally, Skinner gave a curt nod, combined with a shrug, as if he didn’t give a damn where his slave sat. Mulder shrugged, and limped off up the beach with two shoefuls of sand. He dragged out a folded teak chair, carried it down the beach, and spent ten minutes figuring out how to put it up, sweating all the time, and thinking how much he really, reallyloathed vacations. He finally constructed the chair, sat down on it cautiously, and laid back. This was nice enough, he supposed, and god knows his body appreciated the rest after all the recent stresses and angst it had been through, but all the same, he’d have much preferred to be locked up in a dungeon facing an array of torture implements in the hands of his skilled Master.

 

A couple of hours passed and Mulder started to get fidgety. Was this it? Was this what they were going to be doing for the next two weeks? Sitting in the sun? He hated sunbathing. Mulder tried reading his Master’s cast off paper but the sea breeze kept blowing it out of shape, and he wasn’t interested enough to continue struggling against the elements. He idly considered going for a run, and suggested it to his Master, hoping the other man would come too, but there was no reply. Mulder turned to repeat the question and then realized that his Master was fast asleep, his mouth open, and his whole body relaxed.

 

“How much sleep does one person need?” he groused, wondering whether he and his Master might be incompatible vacation companions. Not that it mattered, because he knew there was no question he’d be allowed to go home back to a nice, comfortable apartment without sand, sea breezes and marauding wasps. Mulder just didn’t do relaxing. He found it hard keeping his legs still for long enough. A good hard spanking followed by some stern orders could probably have gotten him to be still, but that didn’t seem to be on the vacation menu. Mulder gave a loud, tragic sigh, but Skinner didn’t so much as twitch and Mulder didn’t dare go so far as to wake his Master. Finally he got up and wandered back to the house. If his Master wasn’t going to introduce him to the delights of the dungeon then he’d just have to find it for himself.

 

Mulder walked through Murray’s house, Wanda on his heels, intent upon thoroughly exploring their new abode. The place was decorated in a somewhat dramatic and eccentric fashion, which was only to be expected, Mulder thought wryly to himself, remembering Murray’s strange taste in robes, extravagant gestures, and booming voice. The master bedroom and bathroom had clearly been merely a taste of what was to be found in the rest of the house. The kitchen was large, and contained every single cooking utensil that a person could ever need, and quite a few that Mulder thought entirely unnecessary. It was a large room, with an enormous wooden table in the center, around which were arranged several rickety, mismatched wooden chairs. It had a charming, rustic feel. Mulder found a walk-in larder, and a laundry room, equipped with state of the art washing machine and dryer. Mulder shuddered, feeling no desire to linger in there. He wandered along a corridor, and tried a door at the end, only to find that it was locked. His curiosity piqued, Mulder crouched down on his haunches, and tried to peep into the keyhole, but it was too dark to see anything. This had to be the dungeon. Mulder briefly considered picking the lock, but decided, regretfully, that it would be a stupid thing to do, and besides, it was no way to win back his collar, so he turned and wandered up the stairs.

 

The house was large, and there were three guest bedrooms apart from the main bedroom. Mulder poked his head around the door of each, and stifled a laugh at the décor. One of the bedrooms looked as if it was straight out of a medieval movie, with wooden flooring, rough plaster walls, and a giant four-poster bed. Delighted, Mulder stepped inside and threw himself on the bed – then laughed again when he saw that a decidedly un-medieval mirror was fitted on the ceiling above. The other bedrooms were equally eccentric. One didn’t even contain a bed – just a load of burgundy and gold cushions arranged on the floor, and it was decorated like some kind of Egyptian harem, complete with flowing drapes, and friezes depicting half naked slave boys in positions of worship. The walls were a dark red, and the wooden floor was covered in dark rugs. Mulder liked that room. A lot. The other bedroom was more like a cell, containing one bed, plain walls, and black and white furnishings. Mulder dubbed it the Puritan room. The cheerful yellow bedroom with its primitive, original erotica that he and Skinner occupied was positively normal by comparison with these other bedrooms.

 

The final room at the end of the corridor wasn’t a bedroom at all. In fact Mulder wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Part library, part junk room, part den he surmised, judging by the enormous bookcases on one side of the room, and the many trunks, covered in tapestry throws, and the closet on the other. There was a large desk, two comfortable armchairs, and a worn rug covering plain wooden floorboards. Mulder thumbed through the books, and was surprised to discover that most of them were plays or poetry. There was also an interesting erotica section, which he made it his business to devour for well over an hour. He finally tore himself away and went to investigate the trunks, only to find them locked. The large closet, however, was not, and opening it, Mulder discovered that it was full of costumes. Mulder stared in surprise, until he remembered that Murray had been an actor, and was still involved in Community Theater. That explained the plays as well. Maybe this was where the cheerful, rotund top came to learn his lines and rehearse. Mulder left the room, and trotted back down the stairs. He hesitated outside the dungeon, desperate to find out what treats lay within, but again he resisted. He was sure his Master would introduce him to the delights inside sooner or later – he just hoped that he wouldn’t have to wait too long.

 

He wandered aimlessly back outside, only to discover, to his profound disappointment, that Skinner hadn’t moved. His Master was still fast asleep. Mulder stared at the other man for a while, and then, with a sigh, gave in, threw himself noisily down on the sun-lounger, and closed his eyes, attempting to emulate his Master.

 

The next two days followed in much the same manner. The freezer was stocked with food, and there were plenty of groceries. Skinner was affectionate towards his slave, but while there was plenty of cuddling, and a lot of kissing, especially of his scar, his Master wasn’t behaving, well, much like a Master. And that was what was bothering Mulder. He had been told that he would be re-trained during these two weeks, and yet nothing was happening. He was confused. Skinner hadn’t even used him, although he often reached out and pulled his slave into an embrace. Mulder wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to come or not. His cock was often half hard, and Skinner hadn’t told him he couldn’t come, and yet, all the same, Mulder wasn’t sure he should. What made the whole thing even worse was that he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject – so he didn’t. They ate in companionable silence on the evening of the second day, and then Skinner got up, leaving the dirty dishes and plates on the table. Mulder shrugged, and left his too. His Master hadn’t ordered him to wash them, any more than he had ordered him to make the dinner. In fact, there was a general lack of orders all around, and in the absence of them, Mulder just followed his own inclination. Maybe, he thought, Skinner intended this to be a vacation for his slave as much as for the Master. Maybe he was giving them both a vacation from their roles. It was the only explanation he could come up with as the pile of dirty dishes grew.

 

By the morning of the third day, Mulder couldn’t stand it any longer. He woke early, too sated by his frequent daytime naps to stay sleeping, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand with a groan. 6 am. It was obscene. He lay there for a moment, thinking about the locked dungeon downstairs, all the hair on his body standing on end as he imagined what delights that room might contain, and finally he couldn’t stand it any more; he had to see that room. He gazed at his sleeping Master, but Skinner slept long and heavily whenever he was given the chance, so Mulder knew there was no likelihood of the other man waking soon. Thus emboldened, he slid out from under Skinner’s arm, and held his breath as his Master grunted, and murmured something in his sleep, then released the breath as Skinner rolled over, still fast asleep. Mulder pulled on his sweatpants and a tee shirt, and tiptoed carefully down the stairs, Wanda scurrying along behind him, clearly unable to bear the idea of being left out of some interesting early morning activity.

 

The door was still locked, but Mulder wasn’t going to let a little thing like that get in his way. He was, after all, experienced with locked doors. He removed the lock pick he had brought with him from his sweatpants, and played around with the lock for a while. It was hardly the most difficult lock he’d ever picked, and a few seconds later, the door swung open. It was pitch black inside. Mulder fumbled for a light switch but couldn’t find one, so, taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. In his mind’s eye he envisioned a large flight of stone steps leading down into the dungeon itself, so he took a tentative step forward, searching for the top step with his toe…but there was nothing. He took another step forward, growing bold, and then another, and then found himself falling, his arms flailing. His first thought was that the entrance had been booby trapped in some way as dozens of objects rained down on him. He landed with a thump on his ass, and heard Wanda make a loud-pitched squawk.

 

“Ssh!” he growled, but it was too late for that – the noise he had made was still reverberating in his ears, loud enough to wake the dead – and certainly loud enough to wake a sleeping Master. Mulder tried to get up, only to find himself trapped under a long handled object. He pushed it aside, and tried to see what the hell it was in the darkness…when the light was suddenly snapped on, and he found himself face to face with his rudely awakened Master.

 

“Perhaps,” Skinner said evenly, holding out a hand to help his errant slave to his feet, “you’d like to explain what you were doing breaking into the broom cupboard at the crack of dawn?”

 

“Broom…?” Mulder glanced around, his heart sinking. Skinner was right. He was in a small room, containing cleaning equipment; the item that had attacked him had been a vacuum cleaner. “Oh shit,” he whispered.

 

“Shit indeed, and you’re up to your neck in it as usual,” Skinner observed. Mulder allowed his Master to pull him up, and kicked a feather duster out of his way. The floor was littered with a variety of cleaning fluids, and cleaning apparatus that he had stumbled into and dislodged from the shelving when he fell. “Tell me that you felt compelled to do a spot of cleaning that was so urgent it necessitated you picking the lock,” Skinner implored.

 

“Uh…” Mulder hesitated.

 

“Rather than using the key which can be found here,” Skinner continued, reaching up and fishing down the key from its resting place atop the door surround. Mulder’s misery was complete. He shrugged, dusted down his sweatpants, and walked haughtily back to the kitchen with what was left of his dignity.

 

“So,” Skinner followed him, filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. Mulder sat at the table, his head buried in his hands. “Are you going to tell me what this was about, or must I assume that you have some kind of compulsive cleaning disorder – bearing in mind that I’ll be extremely skeptical about that considering the amount of washing up that’s piled in the sink.”

 

“I was looking for the dungeon,” Mulder said quietly, seeing any chance of winning back his collar fast disappearing down the nearest toilet.

 

“I see. And you thought it might be in the broom cupboard?” Skinner’s eyebrow was raised, and his lips looked decidedly amused.

 

“I didn’t know it was a goddamn broom cupboard!” Mulder exploded. “I didn’t know what it was because you haven’t told me where the dungeon is!”

 

“It isn’t a secret, but so far, you haven’t deserved a session in it,” Skinner replied mildly.

 

“I haven’t…?” Mulder looked up, surprised. “What do you mean? You haven’t given me any orders since we got here! How could I do anything to deserve a reward?”

 

“Ah. I see. You’ll only behave like a slave when I’m behaving like a Master,” Skinner said dangerously, and suddenly Mulder understood. He glanced at the dirty plates, remembered the way he’d grudgingly made breakfast, and suddenly it all made sense. “What comes first, the chicken or the egg?” Skinner murmured. “The Master or the slave? I wanted to see where our training needed to begin, Fox, and it would seem that it needs to begin right back at basics.”

 

“Oh, shit.” Mulder buried his face in his arms again. “I thought maybe you were giving us both a vacation from being slave and Master or something,” he explained into his arms. That sounded ridiculous, even to his own ears.

 

“Fox.” His Master touched his face, making him lift it to meet the other man’s gaze. “I thought you understood from the beginning that this is a 24/7 arrangement. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You are always my slave, and I am always your Master, even on vacation. However, you seem to think your obligations begin and end with your responses to what I’m doing. They don’t. I expect you to act like a slave in order for me to reward you for being what you are, and performing your tasks well.” Skinner’s eyes wandered over to the dirty dishes piled up beside the sink. “Do I have to keep reminding you what you are? I had hoped you could truly inhabit the essence of your slavery without prompting. You made a good start, but then it all just…” He opened up his hands in a gesture of despair. “I can give you constant guidance if it’s necessary,” Skinner said with a sigh, “but I want to move on from there. I want us to reach another level, Fox, where we function effortlessly, completely in tune with each other, each of us inhabiting our status with confidence, knowing what we are. I see no reason to indulge you if you show no inclination to be what you are, and to impress me with how well you can do so.”

 

“You could have damn well said something,” Mulder muttered mutinously.

 

“So could you. That’s the point,” Skinner replied. “It all comes back to honesty, Fox. You’ve been holding out on me. You could, at any point, have asked me what was wrong, and how you could please me. You didn’t. Instead, you chose to do what you always do – to find out for yourself, to take the lonely path. We have to get beyond this if we’re ever to achieve what I want for us,” he said softly, reaching out to cup Mulder’s cheek in his hand, in an infinitely tender gesture. “Fox, I wish I could make you understand. I’ve seen a Master and slave working in tandem, in perfect symmetry, and it’s the most beautiful sight. It’s a partnership of true equals, each knowing his place, and what is required of him, each dedicated to the other. It’s like watching the most perfectly choreographed ballet. I want that for us. I won’t accept anything less than that. Now, the question is, is that truly what you want, or do you only want the fun stuff? The sex, the eroticism of being a slave, without any of the other chores and duties associated with it?”

 

“I…” Mulder stared at the dirty dishes, and then back at his Master. Skinner was wrapped up in one of Murray’s worn old robes, which was two sizes too big for him. It was decorated with large sunflowers, and looked incongruous on his Master’s burly frame. “I want you, Master, and I want my slavery,” he said firmly. “I can learn.”

 

“I know you can.” Skinner smiled. “You know by now what I require of you, Fox. I don’t expect to have to spell it out.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, I think another hour or so in bed would be nice. I’m sure you have things to do.” He bestowed a kiss on his slave’s forehead, and began walking back upstairs without even so much as a pointed look at the dirty dishes, and remains of last night’s dinner.

 

Mulder watched him go, feeling numb. He’d been such an idiot! Why the hell hadn’t he spoken up before? Why hadn’t he asked Skinner what was going on? That was all it would have taken.

 

“Master!” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

“Slave.” Skinner stopped on the stairs, and turned to glance down at Mulder.

 

“You’re right. Even now, after all this time, I still don’t tell you everything. There’s, uh, something else I wasn’t honest about,” he admitted.

 

“Go on.” Skinner prompted gently.

 

“My scar. I felt sure you were disgusted by my body and didn’t want to make love to me,” Mulder said quietly, feeling his face burn. “I thought you were going to end it but didn’t know how. That’s honestly what I expected when you brought me here.”

 

“I know that, Fox,” Skinner replied.

 

“You do?” Mulder was surprised.

 

Skinner gave the smallest hint of a smile, and nodded. “And why couldn’t you tell me?” Skinner asked.

 

“Because…pride,” Mulder admitted finally. “I didn’t want your pity. I didn’t want you to feel you had to pretend…and I didn’t want to see the look in your eyes when you told me you still wanted me and I knew it was a lie.”

 

“That didn’t happen though, did it? I do still want you. I think I proved that on the beach the other night,” Skinner pointed out. “Didn’t I?”

 

“Yes. You did.”

 

“So you could have saved yourself a lot of worry if you’d just said something,” Skinner rebuked gently.

 

“Yeah, I know that now.”

 

“So don’t keep making the same mistake over and over again.”

 

Mulder took a deep breath, and glanced down at his bare feet. He wished he could say that he wouldn’t. He heard footsteps as Skinner left him to muse on that thought, and bit down hard on his lip. He wasn’t surprised Skinner didn’t want to hang around to debate this issue: his Master must be bored rigid with going over the same ground again and again. He was surprised, however, to feel hands on his shoulders a few seconds later, and then his chin was pulled up, and he found himself looking into a set of dark eyes.

 

“Don’t bite that lip.” Skinner ran his finger over the chewed lip in question. “It’s mine, remember, boy,” he said, his eyes full of affection. “You’ll get it, Fox. One day,” he promised. “I’m not giving up on you so you really don’t have a choice.” He leaned forward, and captured his slave’s lips with his own, claiming him, and Mulder surrendered, a warm wave of relief flowing through his body. “Now, there will be punishment for the broom cupboard incident later,” Skinner promised when he eventually released Mulder’s mouth. Mulder felt his heart thump hard inside his chest, and he rested his head on his Master’s shoulder.

 

“Yes, Master,” he whispered contritely.

 

“And we’ll start the vacation again. This time, I don’t think you’ll be in any doubt about who your Master is, and I trust he won’t have any reason to doubt his slave?” Skinner said seriously.

 

Mulder nodded. “Independence is a hard habit to break, Master,” he murmured.

 

“Oh, I don’t want you broken, slave,” Skinner grinned, drawing back and slapping his slave’s butt heartily. “I just want you tamed.” Mulder grinned back, and gave a wry chuckle. “And tamed to my whip, my touch, and my bit and harness only,” Skinner said, his hand resting on Mulder’s neck, squeezing gently. “Tamed only for me. You can be a wildcat with anyone else, but with me you’ll be a pussycat,” Skinner said. Wanda chose that moment to twine between them, clearly thinking it was breakfast time and they both laughed out loud. Then Skinner turned and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Mulder to contemplate the huge stack of dirty dishes with a regretful sigh.

 

Mulder washed and dried the crockery and cutlery, tidied the kitchen thoroughly, and then brewed a fresh pot of coffee. He tidied the broom cupboard, and then wandered upstairs to the bathroom, where he took a warm shower, and cleaned himself properly, inside and out, before pushing his fingers into ass and lubing himself thoroughly – and somewhat hopefully. Then he examined himself critically in the mirror. His cock and nipple rings were in place, and his hair was freshly washed, and dried. He was looking much better than he had in weeks. If it weren’t for the disfiguring scar on his chest, he would be a halfway desirable slave boy. Mulder placed his hand over the scar, trying to obscure it. He didn’t think he’d ever really become sanguine about bearing that mark on his body, no matter now many times his Master kissed him there. He finished his self-examination, went back to the kitchen, and poured his Master his coffee, then took it up to the bedroom. Skinner was already awake. He was sitting up in bed with his glasses on, reading a book. He put it to one side, and looked up with a smile as his slave walked in.

 

“Your coffee, Master,” Mulder said respectfully, placing the coffee on the nightstand, and then kneeling beside the bed in the submissive position, eyes down, shoulders back, his genitals thrust forward in a way that was humiliating, like an offering.

 

“Thank you, slave,” Skinner replied, taking the coffee and returning to his book. Mulder concentrated on finding in the still center to his soul, a depth of submission that he had attained on only a few occasions before – each time enjoying a serenity in his slavery that he longed to recapture. Minutes passed, and he kept in position until finally he heard his Master put his book aside, and felt his gaze upon him.

 

“At ease, slave. Relax,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder looked up, relieved to be able to kneel more comfortably. “Do you have anything you wish to ask me before I apply your morning discipline?” Skinner inquired.

 

“Yes, sir,” Mulder nodded. Skinner gestured that he should proceed. “What are the rules, Master? Am I still without privileges? Do I still have to ask your permission to use the bathroom?”

 

“No. As we’re on vacation, I think we’ll ease up on those restrictions,” Skinner told him. “You are, however, forbidden to touch your cock at any other time than when washing, or peeing – understood?” Mulder nodded. “Good. You are forbidden to come without my express permission, and your cock is off limits unless I tell you that you can touch it. If I ignore it during sex it’s because I don’t wish to give it any pleasure. You will not attempt to redress that touching it yourself.”

 

“No, Master.” Mulder brightened. At least it sounded as if his Master intended having sex with him sometime soon.

 

“As for the other rules – you’re in deep submission today, boy. That means you talk only when spoken to. If you have anything you wish to ask, then you simply request my permission to speak. If you forget, you’ll be punished. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder’s cock decided that this was the most arousing speech it had heard in a long time and did an upward lurch.

 

“We’ll spend today taking you back down to basics, I think,” Skinner mused, gazing at his slave. “We’ll re-establish some valuable routines – starting with an examination. Present yourself, boy. I wish to inspect my property.”
Mulder didn’t need any urging. He scrambled onto the bed, knelt back on his haunches in position, his hands firmly clasped behind his back, his knees on either side of Skinner’s chest, straddling his Master, within easy reach of the big man’s hands. Skinner ran his fingers through Mulder’s hair.

 

“Time this was cut, boy,” Skinner said. Mulder nodded. His Master’s hands traveled down, and stopped at his jaw. “Open,” Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed, relieved that he’d cleaned his teeth that morning. Skinner’s finger lingered on his slightly torn lower lip. “I don’t want to see this again. It shows poor wear and tear of my property, and it’s entirely self inflicted and therefore unnecessary. There will be punishment for this,” Skinner warned. Mulder blinked, nodding slightly, his face still held between Skinner’s big hands. The other man continued his examination, his fingers tugging on Mulder’s nipple rings, making his slave’s eyes water as he tried to keep from yelping, and then down to his slave’s cock and balls. He inspected these minutely, without any sexual interest.

 

“I’d prefer my slave to be decorated here. A piercing has gone beyond being desirable – I think it’s a necessity. I’d like to train you to the leash down here as well.” Skinner tugged on Mulder’s penis a couple of times and Mulder felt a dizzy tingle of pleasure pass through his body. He had no wish for his dick to be pierced, and the idea of being pulled around on a leash attached to a penis piercing horrified him, but, at the same time, he did love the fact that his Master was so interested in his body, and how it could please him. “I think I’d prefer you shaved during this vacation period. I’ll shave you myself right now,” Skinner mused, as he played with Mulder’s balls, weighing them in his hands. “All over, so you’re smooth like a seal. You can keep yourself oiled – I’ll enjoy catching you when you’re swimming.”

 

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” Mulder said quietly.

 

He followed his Master into the bathroom, and laid in the bath with his legs wide open, resting on the sides of the bath, as commanded, gazing fixedly at the ceiling. Skinner always insisted on using a cut-throat razor when shaving his slave, preferring the smoothness of the skin that way, and Mulder knew it would take all his concentration to keep still while his Master was waving such a dangerous item so close to his genitals. He heard Skinner assemble the items he would need, and then felt the shaving foam being applied to his cock and balls. A few seconds later, he heard the scrape of the razor, and the tingly, tickly sensation of it on the most prized parts of his anatomy. He clenched his fists, and tried not to think about what was happening.  After several minutes of this torment, his chest was shaved, and then he was ordered to raise his arms, and they were stripped clean of hair as well. Finally, Skinner ran the razor over his slave’s legs, and then he was ordered to turn over. His Master shaved his slave’s buttocks, and the back of his legs, until Mulder was hairless, having already shaved his face earlier. Then Skinner turned on the water and ordered his slave to wash off all the foam and dead hair, and Mulder did so, watching with a strange sense of loss as all his hair disappeared down the plug hole. His whole body felt so weird without hair: cooler, and just plain strange. He got out of the bath and dried himself, and then Skinner handed him some oil. “Coat yourself all over and remember to re-apply it regularly throughout the day. It’s sun block oil, so it serves a convenient dual function,” he added. “When you’ve finished come back into the bedroom, and present yourself for the rest of your inspection.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder said meekly. He poured the golden oil into his hands and warmed it, then rubbed it in to his naked body. This felt good. The oil glistened on the surface of his skin, without hair to prevent it from forming an all over sheen. Mulder made sure he was thoroughly oiled from his face down to the souls of this feet – he even rubbed some up into his ass, delighting in the smooth feel of it on his inner skin. He finished up, returned to the bedroom, and climbed onto the bed as commanded.

 

“Turn around. Present your ass to me,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder turned and knelt, with his elbows on the bed, his ass raised for his Master’s perusal. Skinner tapped the flesh a couple of times. “I’m sure I don’t need you to tell me what’s wrong with this, boy,” he growled.

 

“No, Master.” Mulder smiled to himself, envisaging his perfectly white buttocks in his mind’s eye.

 

“Good, then we’ll redress that later.”

 

Mulder gasped as a finger entered between his butt cheeks without warning, or preparation, but the thorough lubing helped made the entry smooth. “I’m pleased to see that you’re prepared for me – remain that way, boy. I expect you to be always clean and ready for use,” Skinner said, one hand fondling his slave’s buttocks, while his first finger had now been joined by another. Both probed deep into Mulder’s anus. “Hmmm,” Skinner mused after several minutes. “Well, you’re still responsive, but you need to practice keeping yourself open for my attention at all times. I think the trouble is that you haven’t been used enough of late. You’re a little tight – not relaxed enough. We’ll have to take care of that. I want my slave to be open, and accepting of his Master’s caress, whatever it might be – at all times. Is that clear?” He punctuated this question by several sharp slaps on his slave’s buttocks. Mulder’s cock went into spasm. The situation, his Master’s words…he found both intensely arousing.

 

“Yes, Master,” he replied obediently.

 

“Good boy. Go and get me a damp washcloth, and bring me the silver box from the closet,” Skinner ordered. Mulder did as he’d been ordered, and returned with the cloth, which Skinner used to wipe his fingers. He knelt in the submissive position as Skinner opened the silver box – to reveal an array of dildos, ranging in size from slender, through the size of an average man’s cock, to one so enormous that Mulder hoped it would never be stuck up his ass. Skinner picked out one of the smaller ones, and applied a coating of lubricant to it, and then he ordered Mulder back on the bed again, ass in the air. Mulder obeyed, and a few seconds later the cold tip of the dildo was inserted in his ass. He found his muscles closing involuntarily against the freezing intrusion, and was punished for this by a slap to his buttocks.

 

“Keep your body open, boy,” Skinner growled.

 

Mulder closed his eyes, his cock crying out to be milked, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch it. Skinner slid the dildo back and forth inside his slave’s ass, in a rhythm that made Mulder thrust his body back to meet the sliding intruder, enjoying the penetration.

 

“Good. Time to move on to something a little more challenging,” Skinner murmured, removing the dildo. Mulder watched as Skinner’s fingers lingered over the larger dildos.

 

“Please, Master,” he whimpered pathetically, and then he gave a cry of surprise as his Master slapped his buttocks hard.

 

“Don’t speak without permission, slave,” Skinner said sharply. Mulder hung his head, and watched out of the corner of his eye, as Skinner selected one of the larger dildos, but not the huge monster one. “I intend to make you take the largest one though, even if only for a short time, so prepare, boy,” Skinner ordered. Mulder swallowed hard, and watched as his Master slathered the larger dildo with lube, and then he felt the cold tip of it pressed between his ass cheeks. He concentrated on relaxing, and opening up, and a second later the dildo slipped easily into place. This one filled him nicely. It was about the same size as his Master’s cock, and it felt good. It exerted just enough pressure to make itself felt, but not so much that he couldn’t take it. Mulder moaned, and rocked back and forth in time to the rhythm Skinner was using to slide the dildo in and out. Finally, it was removed, and he felt his Master’s fingers enter him again. “Okay, this is nice and loose. Now, as part of your punishment for that unauthorized trip to the broom closet this morning, I’m going to make you take the large one.”

 

Mulder closed his eyes, his body shaking with arousal, wondering how he was going to bear this. He wanted to feel that monster dildo inside him, but at the same time, he was scared that it would hurt too much, or, worse, that his body would close against it, denying his Master access. He concentrated on keeping his anus open, ready to accept whatever his Master wished to do to his body. It was so humiliating, to be kneeling in this position, ass in the air, just waiting to be penetrated by this cold, inanimate object, and it almost made him beg out loud to feel his Master’s warm cock inside him instead, claiming him for his own. Skinner clearly didn’t intend to allow him that pleasure just yet though. He wanted to make sure his slave had earned it by showing his obedience, and by enduring something hard, and painful first.

 

Mulder held his breath as he felt the tip of the monster dildo nudge his anus. He willed his rectal muscles to stay relaxed. They had been loosened by all the previous probing play and that, combined with his arousal, and obedience to his Master, made it easier. However, the lubed dildo was truly enormous, and for a moment he didn’t think he could physically take it. He gave a little cry as he felt his muscles distend, but kept his ass as open and welcoming as he could manage.

 

“Good boy.” His Master’s praise meant more to him than anything else in the world, and Mulder closed his eyes, imagining that it was his Master’s monster dick he was taking into his body. His ass felt impossibly stretched, and just when he genuinely thought he couldn’t take it any more, the widest part of the dildo had breached the ring of muscle, and he was fully distended. The rest of the dildo slipped home easily from there, and Mulder gave a gasping cry, trying to remember to breathe, as he was filled by a larger object than he’d ever taken inside his body before. He could feel his muscles clenching around the intruder, trying to adjust to the impossible width, and then he was aching from the size of it within him.

 

“Please, Master,” he croaked.

 

“Is it hurting, boy?” Skinner asked. Mulder considered that for a moment. It wasn’t really hurting. It was, though, supremely uncomfortable and he would have done anything at that moment in time to be relieved of it.

 

“No, Master,” he replied honestly, “but it aches. Please, please…”

 

“You’ll hold it for longer,” Skinner said firmly, and Mulder felt a wave of sweat break out on his body. His cock was aching almost as much as his ass muscles, and he thought he’d explode from this slow torture. Then he felt Skinner’s fingers on his ass, and the dildo was slowly worked out, much to his relief – only to be slid carefully home again almost immediately. Mulder gave a cry, the sweat running down his face in streaks.

 

“Oh god. Oh please. Oh…god…” He tried to get up, but his buttocks were firmly slapped, reminding him to stay in place. He put one hand behind his back to try and relieve the pressure, to release that tormenting dildo just a fraction from its deep insertion in his body, but his hand was pushed back.

 

“Is this what you call obedience, boy?” His Master asked.

 

“Sorry…just…” Mulder closed his eyes again, and for a moment he was alone with the sensations in his body. He felt as if he was being overloaded. He was sure that if he had to carry that large mass in his body one second longer his nerves would explode, but at the same time he loved the feel of being so comprehensively owned and stretched by his demanding Master. He loved being made to endure this exquisite torture, with its dual sensations of pleasure and pain.

 

Skinner set up a steady rhythm with the dildo, moving it back and forth inside his slave until the ache went, leaving Mulder with the most intense burning sensation which seemed to be wired straight to his cock. That massive dildo couldn’t fail to miss his prostate, and soon he was floating, the endorphins flooding through his body.

 

“Oh god…oh please…” he whispered incoherently, and this time it wasn’t a plea for his Master to remove the dildo, but to keep on pushing it back and forth, relentlessly, inside his slave’s body.

 

“That’s enough. I think it’s time to administer your morning discipline now,” Skinner said, thrusting the dildo home, deep into his slave’s rectum.

 

“No…you can’t…oh god…” Mulder protested, not wanting the delicious ‘punishment’ to ever end.

 

“You’ll take your spanking with the dildo in place,” Skinner told his slave firmly. “Over my knee, boy. Now.”

 

Mulder moved slowly into place, his movements hampered by the enormous dildo lodged deep inside his body. He lay, supine, on the pillows Skinner had placed on his knees. He felt Skinner’s large hand on his butt, and groaned as the first slap hit his white buttocks. The oiled condition of his skin somehow made the slaps sound louder, and they certainly stung more. Worse than that, each swat moved the dildo, making him even more aware of its presence, burning deep inside his body. Skinner started slowly, as he usually did, administering merely light swats, but soon he moved the spanking up apace, and then the slaps rained down on Mulder’s willing bottom.

 

“Please stop…please…” Mulder gasped, unable to writhe because of the dildo that Skinner was keeping in place with one hand, while he spanked with the other. “Oh shit!” Mulder almost jumped out of his skin, as his Master’s large hand landed on the dildo, pushing it deeper inside him, hitting his prostate, making his eyes water, and almost causing him come on the spot. He ground his cock into the pillows, desperately wanting release as the spanking continued. Skinner occasionally moved the dildo, or pressed it in even further until Mulder was a mass of sensation, unsure even what his name was.

 

“Why are you being punished?” His Master asked. Mulder blinked the sweat out of his eyes. Was he being punished? It was so intense, and arousing that he couldn’t be sure. His Master’s large hand cracked down on the top of his thighs and a hazy memory returned to him.

 

“The broom cupboard, Master!” he yelled, as Skinner’s palm slapped down again on his bottom. “I’m sorry. I should have just asked you about the Dungeon. I’m sorry!” He yelped again as the spanking intensified in pace and strength until his bottom was on fire both inside and out, and he knew he couldn’t answer any more questions because he was flying far away into space, transported to a different plane entirely.

 

“You can come,” a voice whispered in his ear, and he was profoundly relieved to be given permission because he couldn’t hold it any more, and ejaculated into the pillows, then lay, exhausted, and aching over his Master’s knee, the onslaught over. Skinner dropped the tempo of the spanking, and lightly ran his hands over his slave’s buttocks, before finally grabbing hold of the dildo, and removing it swiftly in a motion that made Mulder gasp out loud.

 

“That was…fiendish, Master,” Mulder moaned, and was rewarded almost immediately by a sharp slap.

 

“And that was against the rules. Remember to talk only when spoken to today, boy,” Skinner growled. “Now, this butt is looking a nice shade of red, but I’m afraid I haven’t finished with it yet.”
Mulder lay there for several seconds as the import of this statement sank in. He loved being spanked, but right now he was shattered – and pretty positive that he’d had enough. That wasn’t his choice though. Skinner continued stroking his buttocks for a long time, and he dozed, contentedly over his Master’s knee, and then, dimly, as if from a great distance, he heard a clicking noise. He ignored it, and a few seconds later he heard it again. He glanced up, and realized his Master was giving him the signal to get into the submissive position by snapping his thumb and forefinger.

 

“Let me warn you that even the tiniest slowness, or disobedience will be punished today. After this morning’s little broom cupboard performance I’m not in a mood to overlook anything,” Skinner told him. Mulder swallowed hard, and half slid, half climbed off the bed, his whole body still shaking in the aftermath of his explosive orgasm. He knelt beside the bed, head down, genitals and chest thrust out, and waited for his next order.

 

“Dress me. Now.”

 

Mulder stood up, and waited for his Master to choose his clothing. Skinner eschewed shorts and tee shirt this morning, and opted instead for a pair of plain black jeans. Mulder helped to smooth them up his Master’s long legs, but when it came to fastening them, he was aware of how his Master’s semi erect cock hadn’t had any attention yet, and he desperately wanted to take it into his mouth. He knelt, and nudged the swelling cock with his lips, and his Master grinned, and placed a hand in his slave’s hair.

 

“You like that, huh, boy?” He asked in a throaty tone. “You want to suck it, yes?” Mulder nodded, looking up hopefully. “Go on then – quickly.”

 

Skinner guided his cock into Mulder’s willing mouth, and his slave accepted it like an offering from a god. He licked it reverentially, and then took it deep into his throat, eliciting a little moan from his Master. He was well on the way to pumping his Master to climax when he felt his head being tugged away.

 

“Enough,” Skinner said, in a low tone that implied that he was close to coming. Mulder could have wept. He wanted his Master to come – he wanted him to come deep inside his throat. He wanted to taste his Master’s semen, to gratefully accept it, and it was being denied him.

 

“Please,” he whimpered but Skinner merely tucked his cock inside his jeans, ignoring his slave’s pleas. “Not yet. I have other plans,” Skinner grinned, his jeans bulging magnificently as he confined his cock inside them, zipping them up. Mulder wondered at his Master’s self control. He didn’t think he could have drawn away at that point, or have imprisoned his hard cock in such a cruel prison. “Get up and follow me, boy,” he said. Mulder did as he was told, following his Master out of the bedroom, and along the corridor. “You’re so interested in finding the dungeon, that I think now is the time to show you,” Skinner said. Mulder looked at his Master in surprise. He’d been in all these rooms, and none of them was a dungeon. Skinner stopped at the door at the end of the corridor, opened it, and ushered Mulder inside. Mulder looked around, surprised. They were in the library-cum-storeroom.

 

“This isn’t the dungeon, Master. Is it?” He looked at the other man, his eyes wide, and Skinner laughed out loud.

 

“Fox, we all have our favorite names for the places where we play. Elaine calls hers the ‘Boudoir’, and I have another friend who refers to his basement as the ‘Sanctum’. ‘Dungeon’ is a pretty common one, as is our own ‘playroom’. It doesn’t mean it has to have stone walls and instruments of torture all over the place.”

 

“Oh.” Mulder looked decidedly disappointed. He had never shown much interest in the niceties of what people called their playrooms. Whenever he had been driven to ‘play’ before becoming Skinner’s slave, it had been such a consuming need, and one he’d fought against for so long, that by the time he ventured out on the scene all he wanted was someone to give him the pain he required. He hadn’t engaged them in conversation and he sure as hell hadn’t asked them what they called the room where they dished out what he needed so much. “So this is it?” Mulder muttered.

 

“Don’t look so upset! Skinner grinned, clicking his fingers. Mulder knelt obediently, still feeling let down and resentful about the so-called ‘dungeon.’ “Watch me,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder looked up. “Everyone has their own way of playing, Fox,” Skinner said softly, as he walked around the room. “Murray was never interested in the S/M aspects of our lifestyle particularly – he was attracted to Dom/sub role playing. You know Murray. He likes to act – it turns him on basically.” Mulder suppressed a smile, remembering the larger than life Murray, striding around his mansion, his loud voice booming. “Hammer, on the other hand, just enjoys sensual pain.” Skinner shrugged. “He submits to Murray’s role play scenarios because they’re hot – and because that way he gets what he wants. Murray, for his part, has learned how to give Hammer the kind of physical sensations he requires in exchange for being able to dress his boy up in costumes, and act out fantasies. This room is perfect for that. I believe Murray enjoys playing stern headmaster to Hammer’s scared schoolboy.” He gestured at the large, imposing desk.

 

“Oh god,” Mulder choked at the image of Hammer in long white socks and shorts that Skinner’s explanation conjured up. Hammer was the sturdiest, toughest looking sub he had ever encountered. The idea was ridiculous.

 

“Now if you want a basement dungeon, with all the manacle fittings, I’m sure I can arrange something,” Skinner grinned. “Maybe as a treat one slave’s day. I know a few people in DC who have them. This place though, is a dungeon of the imagination. Look.” He opened the cupboard to reveal a huge array of costumes, picked one out, and held it up. It was the school uniform Mulder had so recently choked at the idea of Hammer wearing. There was a white shirt, striped school tie, blazer – even a cap. “You’d look good in this,” Skinner grinned. Mulder blanched.

 

“Over my dead body,” he growled, forgetting himself.

 

“No, over your nicely spanked body,” Skinner grinned. “I like the idea. I’ll consider it for later.” He pulled out a schoolmaster’s gown and mortarboard, and held them up. “I think I’d cut an imposing figure in these, don’t you? Complete with an accessorized cane of course,” he added smugly.

 

“You’d look a lot sexier in that, Master,” Mulder pointed to a white naval uniform, complete with cap, and ceremonial sword. He wasn’t sure he wanted to encourage his Master to be thinking about canes.

 

“We’ll see.” Skinner eyes were twinkling. “I think that we should take advantage of Murray’s huge collection of clothing though. Let’s see…” He rummaged through the closet, and then drew out a pale cream, gossamer thin pair of harem pants, decorated with gold piping. “Perfect,” Skinner murmured.

 

“Hmm.” Personally Mulder thought his Master would look stupid in harem pants.

 

“You don’t like them? That’s a shame because I want to see you dressed up like a proper, old fashioned slave boy from ancient Egypt,” Skinner grinned. “Ah, the imagination is a wonderful thing. Stand up, boy, and put these on while I find some more decoration for you.”
Mulder gave his Master the most disgusted look in his repertoire, and reached for the harem pants. They were made of some gauzy, floaty fabric, and they were entirely transparent. He stepped into them, pulled them up to his waist, and then realized, much to his dismay, that they were also crotch less and had been cutaway at the back to reveal his naked, glowing, glisteningly oiled butt.

 

“Oh shit,” he said.

 

“Delicious,” Skinner grinned, coming over, clearly having the time of his life. Mulder regarded his Master sourly. “You’re not wearing them properly,” Skinner scolded, his large hands playing with the folds of fabric at the front of the pants. “Your cock should be on full display at all times. Like this,” he commanded, pulling Mulder’s newly shriven penis into place so that it was clearly visible, hanging proud and pink at the front of his pants. “Turn around.” He motioned with his hand that Mulder should do a twirl, and, flushing all over his body from his glowing butt cheeks to his glowing face cheeks, Mulder did as ordered. “Beautiful. The perfect slave. Don’t forget your slippers though.” Skinner handed his slave a pair of gold, embroidered slippers, and Mulder took them, with a half growl. They had ridiculous pointed, and slightly curled up toes, and open backs. He slid his feet into them, hoping they’d be too small, but unfortunately they weren’t. “Lovely,” Skinner announced appreciatively, with just the slightest note of teasing camp in his voice. Mulder glared at him suspiciously. “Your torso needs decorating though.” Skinner went over to one of the trunks, and unlocked the smallest one. He drew out a clear bag full of gold chains, and considered Mulder for a moment, before making his selection. Then he beckoned his slave forward, and clipped a gold chain to each of his nipple rings, connecting them at the center. He drew forth a gold chain body harness, and placed that over his slave’s head, so that a multitude of chains decorated his upper body, tinkling when he moved. “And, just so that you keep your status firmly in mind…” Skinner pulled a case out of the trunk and opened it, to reveal several shining gold-colored butt plugs all with multiple chains attached. Mulder closed his eyes, and sighed tragically. “Bend over the desk boy,” Skinner said, undoing a tube of lube and liberally applying it to the plug. Mulder did as he was told, bending over the large oak desk, his cock and bare stomach pressing against the cool surface. “Legs open wide,” Skinner ordered, and he moved his ankles further apart, then, a moment later, felt Skinner insert the butt plug into his stretched opening. The butt plug was slender at one end, but much thicker at the other, and Mulder made a face and took a sharp intake of breath as the wider end was pushed home, stretching him once more. “That’s good. Stand up.” Mulder obeyed, trying to get used to the feel of the butt plug inside him. Skinner grinned at him, and picked up the chains hanging from the end of it. They were long, and he attached one to the harness chains on Mulder’s back, and threaded the other through Mulder’s legs to the front, and fastened it to his slave’s cock ring.

 

“There. Perfect,” Skinner said, eyeing his slave appreciatively. “We’re not finished yet though. Come here.” He opened a small side door, and ushered Mulder into a tiny shower room, complete with the usual wall-to-wall mirror tiling that Murray seemed so fond of. Mulder shuddered as he viewed himself in the mirrors.

 

“Oh god. Kill me now,” he muttered as he took in the sight of himself, resplendent in his gauzy outfit, a grown man looking like a ridiculous harem boy.

 

“Not quite yet. I still have plans for you,” Skinner said, tapping his slave’s bottom reprovingly. “Here.” He pulled out two tiny gold baubles from the bag he was carrying, and pressed one on each of Mulder’s ears.

 

“No!” Mulder croaked, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look.

 

“Yes,” Skinner said firmly. “And, a little make up to complete the image.” He took advantage of Mulder’s closed eyes to apply a coating of mascara and a smudge of eyeliner. “Just be grateful that I’m not insisting on rouge,” Skinner teased, applying a trace of lip-gloss to his slave’s sensuous lips. “All right. You can open your eyes now,” Skinner said, and Mulder did so in trepidation. If he hadn’t been so full of loathing for his new image, Mulder would have seen that he looked frankly stunning. Skinner hadn’t done more than was tasteful, and Mulder’s eyes were accentuated by the eyeliner, and looked wide and dramatic, while his moist, shimmering lips positively begged to be kissed. The gold clip-on earrings were merely in keeping with the ensemble of the harem outfit. He looked, to all intents and purposes, like exactly what he was – a pleasure slave.

 

“This is a really good look for you. I might have to ask Murray if we can take it home with us,” Skinner mused, gazing at his slave appreciatively. Mulder wondered whether Murray was bribe-able. “I’ll enjoy having something so good to look at all day,” Skinner murmured, idly playing with Mulder’s cock, “and they don’t come much better looking than this, sweetheart,” he beamed into the mirror tiles, his hands sliding all over Mulder’s oiled body, as if he couldn’t keep his hands off his slaveboy. Mulder’s mood brightened. Wearing this costume wasn’t so bad if it meant his Master was going to be so attentive. “All right, now we have another matter to address, don’t we, slave?” Skinner said sternly, his hands sliding around to cup Mulder’s buttocks. Mulder swallowed hardm and nodded. “It’s been a long time since I last marked you,” Skinner said softly. Mulder stiffened, his eyes meeting those of his Master in the mirror. The last time Mulder had been marked was by himself, trying to get rid of Krycek’s initials on his chest. He and Skinner had once talked about his Master placing a permanent mark on his slave, probably a brand, but events had overtaken them, and now the whole concept of marking had been changed from an idea that excited both of them into a possible psychological minefield. “You do need to be marked again, little one,” Skinner said softly, his hands still kneading Mulder’s buttocks gently, making Mulder’s cock start to harden again. They continued gazing at each other in the mirror for a long time, Skinner’s fingers soothing his slave. Mulder remembered how he had always felt bearing his Master’s temporary marks. While he hated the marking process, which was completely different to an enjoyable hand spanking, or even a strapping, or paddling, he had always loved the fact that his body bore the imprints of his Master’s attention. Once the initial sting of the welts wore off, they faded painlessly, and he had enjoyed glancing over his shoulder to see them, or just the thrill of knowing they were hidden underneath his starched suit while he worked, a secret reminder of his bond to his Master. He often would get hard while just walking to his car, or sitting at his desk, knowing that his body bore those marks, and what they meant to him.

 

“Yes, Master,” he whispered softly into the mirror, and Skinner nodded, and kissed the back of his slave’s neck.

 

“I’m going to use a special implement,” he said in a low, dangerously sexy voice. “It’s a dragon cane – a Murray special. He’s got a whole stock of them, and this one is brand new, unused. I wouldn’t use second hand butt plugs, or canes on you. Do you know anything about dragon canes?” He asked. Mulder shivered within his Master’s arms, and shook his head, swallowing convulsively.

 

“Well, they’re special,” Skinner smiled. “Made of a specially dense, and springy wood. They pack a real punch, slave. Do you feel able to take such an implement? They’re not for everyday use, just for special occasions – like the first marking a slave is to receive after far too long.”

 

Mulder shivered, his Master’s words arousing and scaring him at the same time. He loved the tingly sensation his fear created inside his stomach. He felt as if he had a whole roomful of insects trapped inside him, all fluttering, making breathing difficult.

 

“Will it hurt, Master?” He asked, sinking back against Skinner’s chest, surrendering to his Master’s strong arms, and trusting them to hold him upright.

 

“Oh yes, little one,” Skinner breathed softly into his ear, like a seduction. “It’ll hurt. The dragon cane has real bite. You’ll feel it all right. However, because of its special qualities, I’ll limit the strokes to two. You can take that many can’t you?” He asked seductively.

 

Mulder shivered, and stared at them both in the mirror tiles as if from a great distance. He saw himself, naked, plugged, and adorned with his Master’s chains, and baubles, standing within the protective circle of his Master’s arms. Skinner was standing half naked, his torso bare, but still every inch the Master, his slave nestled against his hairy, muscled chest. They both knew Mulder would agree – this was just the foreplay, a means to arouse the slave, and make the event more exciting for both of them. He nodded, his pink, shaven cock lurching eagerly, and visibly, against its nest of cream and gold gauze.

 

“Good boy. I’m proud of you.” Skinner squeezed his slave’s buttocks, and kissed the side of his face. “Go into the other room, stand in front of the desk, and wait for me.”

 

Mulder went, still trembling. His chains clinked and chattered as he walked, and he was acutely aware of the pull on his nipples from the harness, and the pressure inside his body from the butt plug. The image of himself, dressed like this, about to be marked by his Master, served to arouse him again, and his cock rose inside its gold prison, and pulled on the chain attached to his butt plug, making the plug move fractionally inside him, exciting him even more. He took a deep breath, and bent over the desk once more. He could feel the coolness of the desk against his body, and the breeze from the open window caressing his shiny, oiled bottom.

 

His Master kept him waiting, and as each second passed, Mulder grew more nervous. Finally, he heard footsteps, and Skinner stepped into the room. Mulder swallowed hard, and looked up. He watched as his Master opened the largest trunk, and gasped as he saw the treasure trove it contained. Every single variety of cane, flogger, and whip imaginable was inside that trunk, all of them brand new, and in pristine condition. Skinner drew out a large, solid looking cane, and Mulder’s heart lurched. That thing was big. It would hurt. A lot. He whimpered as Skinner held it between his hands, and bent it back and forth. It was surprisingly malleable for such a thick object, and bent readily, without breaking. Mulder supposed that was why it was so special.

 

“Look at it, boy. Smell it,” Skinner ordered, placing the cane under Mulder’s nose. Mulder saw a smooth brown object, with an intricately carved handle in the shape of a dragon’s head. “You see he has his mouth open – that’s because he’s breathing fire,” Skinner said in that low, sexy tone. “The fire that you’ll soon feel on your butt, boy,” he growled. Mulder’s stomach lurched in anticipation. Skinner removed the cane from the desk, and swished it through the air. Mulder flinched. The sound it made was so beautiful, so arousing, so incredibly frightening that it was all he could do to remain in position. Skinner swished it around a few more times, getting a feel for it, testing the weight, and strength, and then he turned back to his waiting slave. “Two strokes. I won’t ask you to count them because I think after the first one you’ll be too stunned to speak,” Skinner said softly, resting his hand on the small of Mulder’s back. “However, if you bravely take the two of them, I’ll buy you a souvenir to commemorate the occasion. I have something in mind.” There was a grin in his voice as he said that. Mulder shivered. His Master had stoked up the anticipation so much that he was desperate for the other man to get on with it. He felt the cane rest against his buttocks, and then Skinner stroked him with it, making his nerve endings jangle as he waited for the first stroke.

 

“Please, Master…do it quickly,” he begged.

 

“In my own time, boy,” Skinner reprimanded sharply. “Now, you do understand that this isn’t a punishment, Fox, don’t you?”
Mulder nodded mutely. It sure as hell felt like one the way it was being dragged out. It was the most terrible, wonderful torture he had ever endured and it hadn’t even begun yet!

 

“It isn’t a punishment,” Skinner continued, still stroking his slave’s backside with the cane. “This is something much more important. This is to cement the bond between Master and slave. To ensure that you are marked, and that through this marking you come to understand that you belong completely, and irrevocably, to me. The purpose of this is less to inflict pain on you, although it will hurt, but more by means of that pain to impress upon you that you are a slave, subject to your Master’s whim and will at all times. It is also something else…” Skinner’s voice was low, and deep, binding Mulder to his Master, making him lose awareness of anything save his Master and the instrument his Master would shortly use upon him. “It’s also an interim measure before I mark you more permanently. If you can suffer these markings obediently, and without complaint, then I will soon place something more enduring on your skin.”

 

Mulder closed his eyes, the image of his scar rising, unwanted to his mind. He fought to remain in the moment, to keep the bond Skinner was forging between them, tying his slave to the sound of his Master’s voice. Skinner seemed to guess what he was thinking, because he started to tap Mulder’s buttocks lightly with the cane, drawing him back to the scene. “This marking wipes out any previous marking. This marking reasserts my rights to imprint myself on my slave’s flesh. This is a marking of new beginnings,” he said softly. Mulder understood suddenly what his Master was doing, and it was so effective. By talking in this way, Skinner was making new associations in Mulder’s mind, helping to put Krycek and his carving in the past, where he belonged. “It has to hurt to have any meaning,” Skinner insisted. “Like a rebirth. When it’s over, you’ll know you’ve come out of the heat of the fire a new slave. Do you understand that, little one?”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder replied, in a tone so low that he could barely hear himself.

 

“Good, then prepare yourself for the ordeal.”

 

There was an almighty pause, and just when Mulder thought he couldn’t take it any more, there was a swish, a cool breeze, the sound of something connecting on flesh with a snap that reverberated around the room, and then the pain kicked in. He could hear himself howling from a long way off, but almost wasn’t aware that it was him. His Master hadn’t been wrong likening the sensation to fire. He felt as if his entire butt was aflame. He pushed himself away from desk, and grabbed his buttocks, trying to massage the appalling sting, but found his way blocked by the dragon cane.

 

“Don’t touch. You don’t get to touch,” Skinner said, every inch the Master. Mulder’s soul rebelled for just a second.

 

“Oh god, you have no idea…” He said pleadingly. “That thing is vicious…I’ve never felt anything like it. I can’t take a second one. Please.” He gazed at his Master, but Skinner’s face was implacable.

 

“Turn around, and bend over. Now!” He ordered, in a tone so severe that Mulder jumped. He swallowed hard, thinking desperately. He really wasn’t sure he could take another one, and yet…that was what his Master was asking, and he knew that if Skinner let him off now they would never wipe Krycek out of their relationship. This was important on some fundamental level that he couldn’t even begin to unravel. He took a deep breath, and looked deep into his Master’s eyes for confirmation. Skinner gave a slight nod, then drew his slave forward and kissed his forehead. “Go on,” he said pushing him away afterwards. Mulder felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his stomach seemed to have disappeared into the soles of his feet as he turned back, and bent over the desk once more. He closed his eyes, and held on tight, and the next minute he felt the cane on his backside again, resting there lightly.

 

“It makes a good mark. Deep, but blunt, not sharp and raised like the switch,” Skinner informed him. Mulder thought of that mark, replacing the image of his scarred chest with one of his welted buttocks instead. He gave a nod, and then next thing he knew the cane had been lifted again and came swishing back down, biting a line of fire deep within his bottom.

 

“Oh shit.” He was too stunned to move for a moment, and then the pain reverberated out from the line across his butt, traveling up his spine and down his legs, and even into his cock, making it stir, and leap hungrily. “Oh…shit,” he whispered again, speechless after his ordeal, and yet curiously elated as well. Skinner helped him up and he made to grab his buttocks again, desperate to rub some of the appalling sting from them, but again his way was blocked, this time by his Master’s large hands, which grabbed his wrists and held them tight.

 

“Feel it,” Skinner said, holding Mulder against his chest. Mulder whimpered and buried his head in the other man’s shoulder.

 

“Please let me just rub…” he began.

 

“No. Feel the sensation. Remember it,” Skinner said. Mulder hung on, the fire consuming his entire backside, and him, powerless to do anything to lessen it. Sweat started to creep down the side of his face as they stood there, savoring the moment together. Then the first wave of pain passed, leaving him with an aching, widespread glow of pure heat. “Please, please don’t ever give me 6 of the best with that thing, Master,” Mulder said in a muffled tone, speaking into his Master’s chest.

 

“Let’s hope you’re never naughty enough to deserve it then,” Skinner laughed.

 

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Mulder growled. Skinner went silent, and massaged his slave’s back for a moment. “Master?” Mulder lifted his head, to meet Skinner’s thoughtful dark eyes.

 

“Oh, I think I do, little one,” Skinner said, lowering his face to capture Mulder’s lips with his own. “Remember I’d never do anything to you that I hadn’t first tested on myself.”

 

“Who…? When…?” Mulder asked incoherently.

 

“At Murray’s house – when I was with Andrew. It made a lasting impression let me tell you.” Skinner made a face.

 

“Did you do anything to deserve it?” Mulder asked breathlessly, “Or was it just some kind of experiment?”

 

“Oh, I think I probably deserved it. Andrew certainly seemed to think so,” Skinner grinned, and Mulder felt it might be best not to pursue the subject any further. He was intrigued though. He loved hearing stories about his Master being trained by Andrew. It made his cock ache. Skinner seemed to notice that as well, because he smiled down at Mulder’s hardening cock, and pushed his slave away.

 

“I can see you like the idea of your Master being punished,” he mused, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I won’t deny you that after what you’ve just been through. Come here. I want to show you my handiwork.” He took hold of Mulder’s hand, and led him back into the bathroom, and Mulder gazed, transfixed, at the two deep stripes across his bright red bottom.

 

“Mine,” Skinner said possessively, wetting his finger and then running it lightly over the welts in a way that Mulder shiver. He could almost hear his buttocks sizzling. “Now you look the part perfectly,” Skinner said, holding Mulder at arm’s length and gesturing down the entire length of his slave’s body. “The costume, the harness, the rings, the chains, the butt plug, the cock on display…” He touched Mulder’s cock briefly, and it lurched again. “And now the glowing red bottom, perfectly marked. My beautiful, perfect slave.” Skinner pulled Mulder to him, and kissed him long and passionately on the lips until his slave was light headed. He didn’t think he had ever felt happier in his life. He was dizzy with happiness. He loved being so completely his Master’s plaything. Skinner finally released him, and grinned.

 

“Now,” he said matter of factly. “I think it’s time for breakfast.”

 

Mulder leapt into action immediately. Breakfast was his responsibility. While Skinner went outside, and lay down in the sun, Mulder cheerfully cooked them a full breakfast, whistling happily as he worked. Cooking wasn’t exactly his forte in life, but he did his best, and put his whole heart into the task. He carried their breakfast out on trays to find that Skinner had erected a table for them to eat at, although Mulder noted, somewhat ominously, that there was only one chair. Sure enough, Skinner sat in the chair, and gestured for his slave to crouch beside him, which Mulder did, still floating on a haze of happiness. Wanda meandered outside, and flopped down in the sun beside Skinner.

 

“Is she allowed out here?” Mulder asked, worried.

 

“She’s fine. She’s been here before. I brought her when she was a kitten. You know what she’s like – she never strays far away from me so she’s not in any danger,” Skinner replied, eyeing the feast that Mulder had placed in front of him. “My, this does look good, boy. I can see that I underestimated your cooking abilities.” Skinner helped himself to a huge plateful of food, and ate for a few minutes, ignoring his slave. Mulder’s stomach rumbled unhelpfully. He tried to think serene thoughts, which was easy enough, out here in the sun, with the blue sea sparking a few feet away, and his handsome Master seated beside him. He was lost in the thought of how surprisingly perfect beach holidays could be after his dire hatred of them earlier in the week, when he felt something press against his lips.

 

“Open,” Skinner ordered, and he did as commanded and chewed on a pancake thoughtfully. They ate slowly, at a leisurely pace, Skinner sometimes feeding himself, and sometimes feeding his slave. Mulder had no say in what he was given, but he was thoroughly fed, and he noted that his Master made sure to give him something of everything. When his Master had finished, Mulder collected the plates and returned them to the kitchen, where he completed the washing up before returning outside. Skinner had placed a large blanket on the sand beside his sun lounger, and Mulder noticed that a large stake had been inserted into the ground next to it as well. He knelt submissively beside his Master, and awaited further orders.

 

“Well, boy, you haven’t done too badly,” Skinner mused, looking down on his slave. “You’ve spoken out of turn a few times, for which you’ll be punished, but I’m going to save that until later because I think your little session with the dragon cane is enough for now. I’ve already allowed you to come once today ­ so you won’t be allowed again. If you’re good, I’ll allow you to come once again tomorrow, and every day until further notice, but no more than once,” he said, “and don’t take it for granted ­ it has to be earned. I expect you to maintain at least half an erection for me to look at when I’m bored as well,” he grinned. “If I let you come more than once a day you might not be able to manage that.”
Mulder sighed. Being kept on the edge of arousal was agony ­ and yet it focused his mind on his slavery, and in some contradictory way made him feel happy, and content, an object of his Master’s lust. He had no idea why this should be, but it was. “You have no freedom. You’ll ask for everything, and you’ll be in light bondage all day,” Skinner said, picking up a long length of chain. He attached one end to the stake in the ground, and the other to the chain linking Mulder’s nipple rings. “You’ll be at my side for the rest of the day. If I want anything I’ll release you so that you can get it but you’ll return with it immediately, and then you’ll be tied again. Remember to work on keeping that erection,” Skinner warned. “I want you to be at least half hard whenever I look at you. If you aren’t then I’ll punish you.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder said obediently, his cock obligingly immediately, clearly aroused as all hell as much by the idea of the retribution as by the order.

 

“Good boy. In keeping with the Egyptian theme, if it gets too hot, I’ll be asking you to fan me with this.” Skinner pointed to a long handled, old-fashioned fan, resembling a broad palm tree leaf. Mulder nodded.  “Good boy. Now undress me and rub me in with oil,” Skinner ordered. Mulder quickly dispatched his Master’s jeans, and Skinner lay face down on the sun lounger, completely naked. It was a private beach, accessible only by boat, so there was no question of anyone chancing across the handsome, naked Master, and his scantily clad, harnessed, bonded slave, although that thought made Mulder shiver and squirm deliciously. It really amazed him how much he enjoyed this role. He had blundered through his life, single-mindedly following what he thought was his destiny, only to find that his psyche had other ideas, and wanted to follow a completely different path. What surprised him was how relaxed this role made him feel. He felt as if he was coming to life at the same time as he handed over so much of his life to this bronze-bodied man lying in front of him. He poured some oil into his hands to warm it, and then went about a duty that was more of a pleasure.

 

Mulder took his time, and covered every single inch of Skinner’s body with oil, massaging his Master’s firm, toned flesh as he worked. He caressed his Master’s buttocks reverentially, and risked inserting a finger into his crease, and oiling inside his Master’s dark entrance. Skinner sighed, and opened his legs wider, allowing his slave’s impertinence, and, thus emboldened, Mulder knelt between his Master’s thighs, and kissed those perfect, round buttocks, and then dipped his tongue into his Master’s anus. His Master tasted of oil, and indefinable eau de Skinner, and he wriggled deliciously beneath Mulder’s caressing tongue. Mulder rimmed him for several long minutes, until Skinner raised his head, and said: “Thank you, slave. That’s enough,” and then he reluctantly drew back, and turned his attention to his Master’s beautiful golden shoulders and back. He massaged firmly but gently for what seemed like hours, and he felt Skinner’s whole body unwind beneath him. Finally he turned his Master onto his back, and carefully anointed Skinner’s naked head, soothing his long fingers into the flesh, and then covered his Master’s face, stealing dozens of small kisses as he went. His Master grinned, but was clearly feeling indulgent because he didn’t stop his slave, although he did deliver a half-hearted swat to Mulder’s backside when his slave dared to press his lips against his, and open his Master’s mouth with his tongue. Mulder continued with his task, and smoothed oil on his Master’s chest, pausing to bestow a kiss on each shining brown nipple, and then proceeded on to his Master’s swollen cock. He spent a particularly long time oiling this part of his Master’s anatomy, his fingers sliding over the long width of the splendid organ. It was all he could do not to take it in his mouth, or pump it to climax with his hand. His Master was clearly ready for action, and he wondered why the other man hadn’t used him yet.

 

Mulder spent some time on his Master’s balls as well, licking them before oiling them, rolling them over in his hand, and then he smoothed the oil down his Master’s long legs, before ending up at his feet. He lingered here too, rubbing between each edible toe, and daring to suck them thoroughly before applying the oil. Then he finished, and withdrew to his blanket where he knelt in the “at ease” position, awaiting further orders.

 

“Ensure you’re kept oiled as well,” Skinner murmured and Mulder applied more oil to his own body, taking care not to soil his harem pants, and soon they were both gleaming, shining specimens of manhood, their oiled bodies catching the sun. “You can lie down,” Skinner said when Mulder was done, and he did as ordered. It was so relaxing being ordered to lie there. When he tried to lie still of his own accord and just sunbathe, Mulder always got bored and fidgeted, but this was a different matter. Now he was in bondage, his nipple rings attached to the stake in the sand, so he wasn’t going anywhere. Thus forced into resting, and enjoying the sun, Mulder did just that, and was surprised to wake with a start a few hours later to find that he was lying in the shade of a beach umbrella.

 

“Some sun is good. Too much definitely isn’t,” Skinner said, glancing at him with a grin. He was sitting on his lounger, reading a novel. “I’m thirsty. Go and get some water, boy.” He undid the chain from his slave’s nipples, and Mulder returned to the kitchen obediently, and brought a cool box containing several bottles of water back outside. His Master handed one to him and they both drank in companionable silence, and then Skinner pointed to the fan. “Cool me down, boy,” he ordered, and Mulder did as ordered. He felt fairly stupid, waving the huge plastic palm frond around, and was reminded of one of those really bad old Hollywood epics in which a half naked Elizabeth Taylor could be found lounging around being fanned by a slave in a loin cloth. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on keeping his erection at least at half-mast. It wasn’t hard. This whole scenario turned him on. After a while his arms began to ache, and Skinner opened an eye and gestured that he could put the fan away.

 

“I think it’s time to administer that punishment I promised earlier,” Skinner said. “Over my knee, boy.” Mulder wasn’t sure his tormented buttocks could take any more punishing today, but his Master clearly thought that they could. He played with them for a while, squeezing here and there, and delivering light taps, and he pushed the butt plug in further, where it had loosened with Mulder’s movements. Then he began to spank in earnest, peppering Mulder’s bottom with hard slaps from his broad hand. Mulder started to squirm as that hand covered the marks left by the dragon cane, but Skinner was remorseless, and his slave was soon yelping and hollering.

 

“What are you, boy?” Skinner demanded.

 

“S…slave, Master!” He gasped.

 

“Who do you belong to?” Skinner asked, his hand rising and falling relentlessly.

 

“You, Master!” Mulder cried, repeating the familiar litany he remembered from old that was as comforting as pulling on an ancient, comfortable, and much-loved sweater.

 

“What is your purpose?”

 

“I exist to serve you!”

 

“Good.”

 

The spanking came to an end, and Mulder lay over his Master’s large thighs, struggling to regain his breath. He felt Skinner removing the chains that fastened his butt plug, and then it was removed. “Stand up, and undress. I think this butt needs to cool off.” Skinner gestured with his head towards the sea, and Mulder quickly scrambled out of his harem outfit and harness, and toed off his ridiculous slippers. “Into the water ­ run,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder obeyed, his cock bouncing merrily as he jogged into the sea. He turned to see his Master following, at a more leisurely pace, grinning broadly. “Right in,” Skinner commanded, and Mulder continued walking, then threw himself head first into the water. He shivered as his hot bottom met the cold water.

 

“Oh god!” He exclaimed, clutching his butt. Skinner laughed, and eased himself more cautiously into the water, surfacing close to where his slave was standing. “Shit, cold water, burning butt,” Mulder grimaced, half laughing himself.

 

“A seductive combination,” Skinner agreed, sliding an arm around his slave, and pulling Mulder close. He kissed his slave long, hard, and thoroughly, playing with Mulder’s cock until it started to respond, despite the cold water. Mulder noticed that his Master’s cock was also hardening, and he ducked under the water, and took it in his warm mouth, sucking it to full erection, before choking to the surface with a mouthful of seawater.

 

“Warm and cold, that felt so good,” Skinner said, grabbing one of his slave’s nipple rings and twisting. Mulder grabbed on to his Master’s shoulder in order to stay upright. “My slippery seal,” Skinner grinned, his fingers sliding across his slave’s oiled body. “Although you’re a little on the large side to be a seal. More like a whale.” He grinned at Mulder’s expression of outrage. “And you know, I think it’s time for this whale to be harpooned.” He grabbed Mulder’s head and pulled it close, then whispered one word in his ear. “Wanda.”

 

Mulder glanced towards the shore, but the little cat was lying under Skinner’s sun lounger, fast asleep. Then realization sank in.

 

“Here, now?” He squawked. Skinner frowned.

 

“The day you can accept this particular command without question is the day I’ll really know that you’re my slave down to the core of your being,” he said. “Now, bend over, boy. I’ve been patient enough, and now I want to use this hot butt.”

 

Mulder felt a warmth rise up from the pit of his stomach. He loved it when Skinner used this particular command on him. He loved the sensation of total and utter submission it induced in him. He loved being used, roughly, and without any thought for his own pleasure. He took a few quick steps towards the shore to make sure he had room to bend over without drowning, and then did as his Master ordered. His chin was dipping in the water, and he wasn’t able to bend all the way, but it was enough to offer his Master access. His anus was thoroughly stretched after the morning’s many activities, and he was lubed, as always. He felt Skinner’s warm hands on his sore buttocks, and shivered as he felt the tip of his Master’s cock press into his entrance. Then his Master thrust once, hard, and buried himself deep in Mulder’s body. Mulder was knocked partially off balance and took another mouthful of water before finding his legs again, his Master’s hands holding him up. God, this felt so good! The many sensations of hot and cold were exciting in themselves. His Master’s warm cock inside his hot buttocks, both of them surrounded by cool, clear, sparkling water. Skinner grunted, and rested for a moment inside his slave, and they both felt the warm pulsing connection between them. Then his Master slid his fingers around Mulder’s chest, and took his nipples between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard. Mulder gasped again, and almost toppled over once more. Skinner didn’t speak, just shifted his thighs back, and then slammed into his slave again, and with each savage thrust, he squeezed down hard on Mulder’s nipples. Mulder rested his hands on his thighs for purchase, and surrendered to the moment. The sun was shining on his back, and his Master was using him the way he had used him before Seattle. He was slamming into his slave, rough and fast, and overpowering him the way Mulder loved, but had been too fragile to withstand in recent weeks.

 

“Oh god, oh shit” Mulder panted, his own cock hard, and weeping, and Skinner twisted his slave’s nipples, made another lunge deep into his slave’s bowels and came. The warm semen mingled with the cool water, and Mulder felt a sense of well-being and elation flood through him. Skinner stayed embedded in his slave, and then, without warning, kicked Mulder’s legs from under him, and pulled him back into the water so that he was lying on top of his Master, both of them face up, floating, his Master’s cock still inside him.

 

“That was good, boy. Now, time to relax,” Skinner murmured. They floated for a long time, Skinner’s arms stroking his slave tenderly as they relaxed together in the water, bathed in sunlight, Skinner’s cock still buried deep inside his slave’s ass. The back of Mulder’s head was on his Master’s chest, and they both moved their feet and hands aimlessly to keep themselves afloat. Mulder wanted that moment to never end, but finally, his Master pulled away, and it felt so cold without the other man’s large cock embedded inside him.

 

“Beautiful,” Skinner murmured, pulling Mulder close for another kiss. “This is a day I’ll never forget, Fox.”

 

“Me neither,” Mulder said, nuzzling his Master’s salty neck.

 

“Time for more sunbathing,” Skinner grinned, pulling away and cleaning his penis carefully in the water before returning to the shore. Mulder followed him, and they both flopped back on their respective lounging areas. They dried in the sun, but it was getting late, and cooler, so as soon as they were dry, Skinner ordered Mulder to dress in his harem outfit once more, and fitted the butt plug in place, and then they returned to the house.

 

They had just gotten into the kitchen, when there was a loud knock on the front door. Mulder gave Skinner an alarmed look, but his Master just smiled, and shrugged.

 

“Stay here,” Skinner ordered. “I’ll go and investigate.” Mulder stayed in the kitchen, wondering who on earth would be calling on them, and hoping that his Master would get rid of them as soon as possible. He was, therefore, horrified to hear the sounds of two sets of footsteps, coupled with his Master’s laugh, and two voices conversing. He slunk into the corner of the kitchen as the voices came closer. Oh god! He was clad in this ridiculous harem outfit, complete with eye make up, his cock and striped buttocks clearly on display. The idea of anyone seeing him like this sent shivers up and down his spine. Surely Skinner hadn’t forgotten how his slave was dressed? The door opened, and, much to Mulder’s profound alarm, Skinner ushered a man he didn’t know into the room. What was worse was the fact that the man was a police officer.

 

“Fox, this is Hank Tanner. He’s the local sheriff,” Skinner said. 

 

“Please to meet you, boy,” Tanner said in a heartily booming voice. He looked Mulder up and down approvingly, a wide grin on his face, and Mulder felt like sinking into the ground. He felt so naked and exposed, dressed like this. Hank didn’t seem surprised though, as, after a cursory glance at the slave, he turned back to Skinner. “I thought I’d just look in on you Walter. Murray told me you’d be arriving with your boy. I meant to get along before now, but events got the better of me. It’s good to see you again.”

 

“And you, Hank. Here, take a seat. Fox will bring us coffee, and we can catch up.” Skinner ushered their guest to the kitchen table, and Mulder swallowed hard, and set about making coffee as instructed. He went about the task silently. Skinner clearly wasn’t fazed by their guest seeing his slave boy dressed like this, so he guessed that he shouldn’t be embarrassed either. On the contrary, he knew that he should be pleased that his Master was so proud of his slave that he was showing him off in public. Mulder took a deep breath, and held his shoulders back, determined to show his Master that he could be a perfect slave. He was aware of Hank’s eyes traveling over his chained, harnessed, gauze-clad body, and lingering on his striped buttocks, and visible butt plug, but he was proud of his marks, and grew in confidence as Hank and Skinner continued talking as if the slave didn’t exist. He brought coffee and cookies to the table, and laid them silently in front of the other men. Skinner clicked his fingers without even looking at his slave, and Mulder sank to his knees beside his Master, and rested his chin on Skinner’s knee. Skinner’s hand came to rest immediately on his slave’s head, and he fondled Mulder’s hair absently while he talked to his guest. Mulder closed his eyes, and relaxed.

 

“Well, if you need anything, just holler,” Hank said, half an hour or so later, getting up. “Or send your boy into town with a message.” He glanced at Mulder. “Boy’s a credit to you, Walter. Well trained. Murray always did say you were the best. I can see why now.”

 

“Fox is a quick learner. He deserves a vacation,” Skinner replied. “I think we both were in need of one to be honest!”

 

“Well you’ll get it out here. I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Mulder got to his feet in time with his Master, and stood, unobtrusively, as Skinner bade their guest farewell. “I’ll show you out, Hank. I have something I want to ask you,” Skinner said, clicking his fingers again. Mulder knelt, and put his head down, as the other two men left the room, still talking. Skinner was a long time saying goodbye to his guest at the front door and Mulder wondered what they were talking about. He couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself after his performance though. He’d been so completely his Master’s slave, and it had felt so damn good. His chest swelled slightly as he remembered Hank’s praise. This was what Skinner had always wanted ­ to be proud to show him off in public and know he wouldn’t be disgraced by his slave’s behavior. Mulder was both disturbed and aroused to find that he had thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing.

 

Skinner returned a few minutes later, and came to stand in front of his slave. Mulder kept his eyes cast down, and gazed at his Master’s feet, trembling slightly under his Master’s scrutiny. He thought he had done well ­ he hoped he had done well. Finally, Skinner placed a finger under his slave’s chin, and lifted his face up. Next thing he knew, his Master’s face had dipped down, and the sweetest, softest, gentlest kiss had been deposited on his lips.

 

“Good boy,” was all Skinner said. “Hank is an old friend of Murray’s – he’s well used to our lifestyle, or I wouldn’t have brought him into the kitchen, obviously. I don’t approve of outsiders having our little foibles being inflicted upon them. Now, I’m going up to the red room upstairs to get things ready for the evening’s entertainment. I’ll be making a call to a local restaurant who will deliver some food in a couple of hours. They’ll leave it on the porch, and knock on the door. You’ll go and bring it in, arrange it on plates and bring it upstairs. I will provide the wine. You have two hours free time ­ during which I want you to think about how you’ll please me this evening. You might have noticed that there’s no television out here. Murray and Hammer always make their own entertainment and we’ll do the same. I expect my slave to put on some kind of performance, whether it’s a strip tease, a dance, or something else of your own devising.”
Mulder’s heart dropped into his curled Moroccan slippers at these words, and he gazed, dumb struck at his Master as the other man disappeared up the stairs.

 

“Dance? Have you ever seen me dance?” he muttered, wondering what the hell he could do to entertain his Master. He racked his brains, and finally decided to go to the dungeon for inspiration. Skinner hadn’t said he couldn’t go into that room, and it wasn’t kept locked. He wandered up there, and found the dragon cane still lying on the desk where Skinner had left it. Mulder went to look at it, but was careful not to touch, although he wasn’t sure why ­ maybe as a mark of some kind of respect to what was a very formidable implement. His buttocks ached just looking at it. He walked over to the bookcase, and glanced at that, hoping to find some inspiration there, and an idea struck him. He remembered the first time his Master had made love to him, and the erotic charge of that poem his Master had recited as he touched him. Mulder’s fingers raced over the spines of the books, taking some down, and glancing in them, flicking impatiently through the pages until finally he found one he was looking for. He considered it for a moment. Too much? But time was getting short, and Skinner said they had to make their own entertainment, and these words resonated with him so much. Finally, deciding it was either that or dancing, Mulder settled down to learn the sonnet off by heart.

 

His eidetic memory ensured that the task wasn’t too onerous, and Mulder half-remembered the sonnet from his schooldays anyway. He had always hated Shakespeare at school, but this sonnet had spoken to something deep inside him that he hadn’t even dared voice at that age. He had memorized the sonnet but forgotten it over the years. Now, the words leapt out of the page at him with even more meaning, because now he would be saying them to somebody specific, not just a nameless fantasy Master of his own imagination.

 

Mulder was flushing with nervous embarrassment as he knocked on the door of the red room a couple of hours later, carrying a huge tray of food. The door was opened, and he was immediately assaulted by the scent of incense. The room was lit by several large candles, and glowed warm and red. The many cushions were piled up invitingly in the center of the room, and several little tables were scattered around. Mulder just had time to take that information in when his attention was claimed elsewhere. He wasn’t the only one dressed for the occasion; his Master had also taken some time to dress up. Skinner had clearly taken a bath, and he was dressed in a pair of tight fitting leather pants, and a loose embroidered red waist-coat with nothing underneath. He was barefoot, and he looked ­ better than dinner, Mulder decided.

 

“Put the tray down, and serve me, boy,” Skinner ordered, settling his large frame down on the cushions, and beckoning Mulder over. Mulder swallowed hard, and did as ordered. He knelt beside his Master, and Skinner handed him a large glass of wine. Skinner watched him over the top of his own glass, and Mulder took one sip and then looked up, with a delighted smile. The wine was warm, and spicy, and different to anything he’d tasted before.

 

“Good?” Skinner asked.

 

“Oh yeah.” Mulder nodded enthusiastically. He felt the wine warming him, and it combined with the incense to make his head swim. He felt as if the glowing red walls were embracing him, and his cock was responding to the eroticism of the room.

 

“Kiss me,” Skinner commanded, and Mulder leaned forward, and took his Master’s lips in his own, tasting the wine on the other man’s tongue. This was so seductive, so good. He kissed his Master for as long as he could before the big man gently disengaged.

 

“Feed me,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder picked up a plate, and took one of the tidbits from it. Skinner had ordered some kind of ethnic finger food, which was perfect for the occasion. Mulder held a piece of some kind of spiced meat to his Master’s lips, and Skinner took it, licking Mulder’s fingers clean and then nodded that he wanted another morsel. After he’d tasted many of the different foods, he returned the favor, and fed his slave boy in return. The combination of wine and incense, the room and his powerful Master seduced Mulder, and his cock was now so hard it ached. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to come, and that gave the evening an intensity of pleasure that aroused him even more. When they’d finished eating, and licking the food off each other’s hands, Skinner pulled his slave onto his lap, and played with him. He ran his hands through his slave’s hair, and teased each of his slave’s nipples, moved his butt plug, and tugged on his chains, until Mulder was sighing with pleasure.

 

“All right, your turn to entertain me now, boy. What do you have prepared?” Skinner asked.

 

“A sonnet, Master,” Mulder said, all the embarrassment he thought he’d feel disappearing in this warm, inviting environment.

 

“I like the sound of that.” Skinner nuzzled his slave’s jaw with his lips.

 

“Mastee, I’d like to make it more personal by attending to you as I speak it. Could I remove my plug?” Mulder asked.

 

Skinner nodded. “I asked to be entertained, and this sounds most entertaining,” he grinned. Mulder moved into the shadows and prepared himself for what he intended to do. Then he returned to where his Master was lying, spread-eagled on the pillows amid the remains of their feast. Mulder straddled his Master, pushed Skinner’s waistcoat aside, and took one brown nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it, and then turned his attention to the other. His Master closed his eyes, and surrendered to the attention, his body relaxing beneath Mulder’s ministrations. Mulder opened his Master’s leather pants, and released the other man’s pulsing cock. It didn’t take too many flicks of his deft fingers for that cock to become rock hard in his hands. Then Mulder settled himself over his Master’s penis, and lowered himself gently onto it. He always found riding his Master hard, because of the angle of the penetration, which was deeper, even though he could control the thrust. Mulder slowly slid his Master’s cock deep into his own ass, his eyes watering slightly as he rode it home, into the darkest recesses of his body. Skinner sighed, and moved his hips and then they were joined, Skinner’s cock pulsating and hard, warm within his slave’s body. They stayed that way for a long time. Mulder loved the intimacy of this position, as he looked down on his Master. He loved being able to look into the other man’s eyes when they made love.

 

 Slowly, he leaned forward, and kissed his Master on the lips. It wasn’t a deep kiss, just a brush of lips on lips.

 

“Being your slave what should I do but tend,

 

Upon the hours, and times of your desire?” He quoted softly, nuzzling his Master’s ear with his mouth.

 

“I have no precious time at all to spend;

 

Nor services to do till you require.”

 

He moved his body, raising himself up on his haunches, and then slowly impaled himself on his Master’s cock once more. Skinner’s lips parted, and his dark eyes opened and looked at his slave. He moved his hands to cup Mulder’s buttocks, and they were still for a moment. Then Mulder leaned forward again, and licked his Master’s nipples, before continuing.

 

“Whilst I (my sovereign) watch the clock for you,

 

Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,

 

When you have bid your servant once adieu.”

 

He gave a choking cry as his Master kneaded his buttocks, and put his head back, feeling the sweat trickle down his neck. Oh god, this felt good. His Master moved his hips again, thrusting deeper into his slave’s body, and Mulder moaned. His own cock ached for attention but he didn’t touch it, and neither did his Master. It stood between them, shaven, and rock hard, weeping slightly.

 

“Nor dare I question with my jealous thought,

 

Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,” Mulder continued, taking his Master’s face between his hands, and bestowing several kisses on the other man’s features, his fingers caressing Skinner’s square jaw, and the familiar planes and contours of his face.

 

“But like a sad slave stay and think of nought,
Save where you are, how happy you make those.”
He rose and fell on his Master’s cock once more, and then again in quick succession and their breathing quickened. Skinner grasped his slave’s hips to keep them both steady.

 

“So true a fool is love, that in your will,” Mulder quoted softly, dipping his head forward for another kiss.

 

“(Though you do any thing), he thinks no ill.”

 

He quickened his pace, and rode his Master hard, his body aching from the deep penetration, but glowing also from the intense eroticism of the moment. Skinner gave an inarticulate cry, and came with a shuddering bellow of sheer pleasure, grasping his slave’s body close to his as he did so. Mulder grinned down on his Master, delighted by the effect of his seduction.

 

“Thank you, Fox,” Skinner said softly, brushing his slave’s sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Sonnet 57. It’s been a long time since I heard that, and I don’t think it’s ever been delivered to better effect,” he grinned. “Well done, sweetheart.” He undid Mulder’s chain harness and removed it, leaving him in his usual attire of nipple and cock rings. Mulder looked at him questioningly.

 

“We’ll sleep in here tonight. I’ve enjoyed this particular theme,” Skinner explained. “And besides, I’m comfortable where I am. I don’t want to move,” he grinned. Mulder was aware that his Master’s softened cock was still inside him, and grinned back. “Move down beside me without dislodging me,” Skinner commanded. “Fail and I’ll punish you.” Mulder nodded, and slowly, carefully, managed to move his legs and body so that he was lying with his back against his Master’s chest, cradled in his Master’s arms, Skinner’s cock still inside him. It was a tricky maneuver, and took all his ingenuity but he managed to achieve it. The threat of punishment was an effective incentive ­ he really felt he’d been spanked enough for one day. It felt good to be lying down together on the plentiful cushions, still connected. Skinner pulled a light blanket over them, and they watched the candles burn down to nothing, the gentle lapping of the waves outside the only sound in the warm, glowing, scented room.

 

The following day was spent in much the same way. Skinner seemed so taken by his harem boy that he was reluctant to relinquish this particular fantasy, and Mulder, for his part, felt as if he was growing stronger with each day that passed. His skin had started to tan slightly, and he no longer felt the remains of the lethargy that had plagued him since Krycek’s assault. His body was rested, and he felt more like himself than he done in a long time. His confidence was returning with his strength, and he basked in his Master’s attention. When they were working, neither of them had this amount of time and energy to lavish on the other. Skinner reintroduced the daily confessional, and although Mulder always found them hard, he also found that he needed that daily outlet. It helped Master and slave understand each other better and once he started talking, he was surprised by easily the words came.

 

On the following night, he expected to bed down with his Master in the red room again, so was surprised to find the other man had different ideas.

 

“You’re not sleeping with me tonight, boy,” he grinned. “Tomorrow we’ll be playing a different game and I want you to get into the feel of it so you’re ready and willing.”
He took Mulder back to the dungeon, and ordered his slave to undress. Mulder wasn’t too unhappy to see the back of the harem outfit. “Go and take a shower,” Skinner commanded. “Then come back out here to accept your new role.”
Mulder did as ordered, wondering what Skinner had in mind for him next. When he returned to the Dungeon, naked, and still toweling his hair dry, his heart sank as he saw the items his Master had arranged on the desk.

 

“Tomorrow, I want to play with my pup,” Skinner said, smiling broadly, and clicking his fingers. “Pups don’t talk ­ at all,” he reminded his slave. “So you’ll spend all day tomorrow in total silence.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder sighed.

 

“I’ll keep you gagged some of the time so that shouldn’t be a problem. For now, pup, I think a collar is in order. This isn’t a slave collar, boy, so don’t get excited ­ it’s a dog collar, pure and simple.” Skinner opened the thick, soft leather collar, and buckled it around his slave’s neck. Mulder didn’t care that it wasn’t a slave collar. It felt good to have something around his neck again, reminding him of his status in his Master’s life. The collar had a little tag hanging off it, with Fox engraved upon it. “And of course, the best dogs have a nice, bushy tail,” Skinner grinned, holding up a solid butt plug with a long dark tail hanging from it. Mulder closed his eyes, remembering the horsetail his Master had made him wear recently. He got to his feet, and bent over the desk obediently though when commanded. Skinner lubed the butt plug, and then worked it slowly into his slave’s ass, taking his time.

 

“This one is a little bigger than the one you’ve been wearing,” he announced. “I want to ensure you’re fully stretched, boy, as I have plans for you next week.” Mulder wanted to ask what those plans were, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to know. Skinner decided to tell him anyway. “You know I once mentioned fisting you,” he murmured in Mulder’s ear, where Mulder lay, prone and naked, over the desk. Mulder shivered. “I’m going to fist you before the end of this vacation, boy. I’ve been stretching you nicely for the past few days. You’ll be ready to take my fist before I’m through with you.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder croaked, his cock responding almost immediately to the suggestion. He found the idea of being fisted both profoundly frightening and incredibly erotic. It was such an expression of trust, to allow his Master to do this to his body, and yet, at the same time, he had no choice. If Skinner wished to fist his slave, then that was his prerogative.

 

“Good pup.” Skinner sank the final few inches of the butt plug home, and twisted it slightly, making his pup yelp. It was considerably bigger than the last plug, and it was holding his rectal muscles open. He could feel them spasmodically clenching around the plug, trying to repel the intruder, and failing. “You’ll soon get used to it,” Skinner said, smiling happily. He slapped Mulder’s buttocks, and then pulled his slave up. “Here’s your blanket. Follow me down to the kennel,” Skinner commanded.

 

“Kennel?” Mulder repeated, surprised. “Don’t tell me you brought that thing with you all the way from DC.”

 

“Of course not,” Skinner grinned. “Murray has his own kennel. I believe Hammer loves sleeping in it. It’s a warm night, you have a blanket ­ you’ll do fine.” He led Mulder downstairs, out into the back garden, and around a small bank of shrubs. There, lying on the lawn, was a large, wooden kennel, with a long length of chain attached to it. Skinner picked up the chain and fastened it to Mulder’s dog collar.

 

“You can unclip this at any time during the night,” he said, showing Mulder how easily the chain could be unfastened. “I would suggest that you don’t,” Skinner added, “for any reason other than a genuine emergency. The punishment for disobedience on this matter will be severe.” Mulder nodded, and crawled into his kennel, clutching his blanket. Skinner disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a bowl of water. The bowl, Mulder noted, had “Pup” written on the outside.

 

“No hands,” Skinner warned, placing the bowl outside the kennel. “Your day as a pup has begun. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed Mulder’s forehead affectionately, and then returned to the house. Mulder watched him go, mournfully. The past few nights he had spent in his Master’s arms had been so perfect that he felt like howling like a dog as the other man disappeared from sight.

 

 The kennel was actually fairly comfortable. Mulder lay with his head sticking out, looking up at the sky, and he had to admit that he felt pretty good. Being chained was a fantasy of his, and, regardless of the fact that he could easily undo the chain if he wanted, he was enjoying the feeling of being kept in light bondage. He could hear the waves washing up on the shore a stone’s throw away, and if he looked at the house, he could see the light on in the bedroom, signaling that his Master was reading before going to sleep. It was all rather restful, and Mulder lay back with his hands under his head, thinking. It had been a little over seven months since he had signed that contract, binding him to his unknown Master, and his whole life had changed radically since then. What surprised him, and even scared him a little, was how much he preferred this life to his old one. He felt calmer, and more at ease with himself. After the tumultuous events of the past month, he knew that he had genuinely reached a turning point. And now, out here by the sea, in this fantasy vacation straight from BDSM heaven, Mulder was aware that his erotically skilled Master was completing the process of healing his slave’s shattered psyche as much as the sun, sea and rest were healing his body. It didn’t escape Mulder’s notice that Skinner was recapping the finer points of his slave training, in an entirely pleasurable way, prior to the undoubted stress of their return to work. Mulder counted the stars, remembering a time when being alone with his thoughts, gazing up at the sky, would have led inevitably to thoughts about Samantha, and a consuming need to do something, anything, to show her he hadn’t given up on her. Now he could see that his drive had been more about himself, and his need to outrun his guilt over her abduction, than anything to do with her. Yes, he still wanted to find her, but that quest didn’t define his life any more. He had found something else; he had found someone to love him and in return he gave that man his whole life. Willingly. Mulder closed his eyes. His demons, so long with him, had been at least partially slain. As long as that man in the house remained his Master, then he didn’t fear anything that could happen to him. He was at peace.

 

Mulder was wakened by a loud whistle in his ear the following day.

 

“Morning, pup. Time to get up.” Skinner grinned, unfastening the chain from Mulder’s collar. “Sleep well?”

 

Mulder opened his mouth, and then narrowed his eyes, remembering that he was supposed to remain silent all day. He nodded, and grinned sideways at his Master who laughed out loud, and slung a big arm around his slave’s shoulders, tousling his hair affectionately. “Go and take a shower, and then come back downstairs to eat,” Skinner ordered. “You can remove the plug to shower. Clean it and bring it back for me to insert it again.”

 

Mulder hurried to do as he had been commanded, then scampered down to the beach to find his Master seated at the table, chewing on a slice of toast. A bowl of water, and a plate of pancakes cut into bite-sized pieces were on a plate on the ground. Mulder sighed, but couldn’t stop himself grinning. This was so absurd, and conversely so ridiculously horny. His cock was already starting to wake up. After breakfast, Skinner whistled to him again, and he went obediently to his Master side. The other man attached a leash to his slave’s nipples.

 

“I’m taking my pup for a walk,” Skinner explained. “He’s been lounging around for too long. I think he needs some exercise.” Mulder felt the same way. He was longing to stretch his legs along the expanse of beach. He fell into pace beside his Master as Skinner jogged along the beach. The other man was wearing a pair of cut off shorts, and a tee shirt, with a baseball cap protecting his naked scalp from the fierce overhead sun. Mulder loved the feel of the warm wind whipping over his almost nude body, and got an extra frisson from running on the lead, subject to his Master’s commands. They ran up and down the beach for half an hour, and then Skinner slowed to a walk, and opened the small bag he had slung across his back. “Time for my pup to play,” he grinned, pulling out a Frisbee. Mulder placed his hands on his hips and dared his Master to throw it, but Skinner was enjoying himself far too much to take any notice of his slave’s lack of enthusiasm for the game. He threw the Frisbee along the beach and then gazed expectantly at his slave. Mulder stared back at him, one step away from laughing out loud.

 

“You know, I think most dogs would fetch without having to be ordered, but I can make it an order,” Skinner said easily. Mulder glowered at him, and then, with a heavy and pointed sigh, turned and ran after the Frisbee. “Remember, no hands!” Skinner called after him, chuckling to himself as he sat down and watched his pet perform. Mulder picked up the Frisbee in his mouth, along with a mouthful of wet sand, and returned it to his Master’s lap, where he dropped it and the sand with a challenge in his eyes.

 

“Is my pup being defiant?” Skinner asked, brushing the wet sand off his shorts.

 

Mulder’s eyes widened in innocent surprise, and he shook his head, shrugging extravagantly and trying not to laugh. “Hmmmm. We’ll see.”

 

Skinner stood up, and threw the Frisbee in a wide curving arc ­ straight into the sea. Mulder looked at the Frisbee, then looked back at his Master. Skinner smiled pleasantly. “Fetch,” he said mildly. Mulder gave an even more dramatic sigh, and ran into the water after the Frisbee. It was actually nice to cool down in the water after their jog, and he doggy paddled after the Frisbee, and nosed it around in the sea for a long time, playfully ignoring his Master who was whistling for him to return.

 

“Well, you wanted a pup,” Mulder murmured, ducking under the water, and coming up with the Frisbee balanced on his head. “And I’ve just remembered another thing pups do” he muttered mischievously to himself, an idea forming in his mind. He tossed the Frisbee into the air, and leapt up and batted it back into the water before retrieving it in his mouth. He ran back up the beach to his Master, dropped it in Skinner’s lap and then shook himself all over his nice dry Master. Skinner was sitting down and couldn’t avoid the spray of cold water from Mulder’s body and hair, but he shouted loudly, and got to his feet just as Mulder ducked away and made a run for it back up the beach.  He easily outran his Master, who chased him, still yelling, although there was a gurgling sound interspersed with the shouts that sounded suspiciously like laughter to Mulder’s ears. Skinner pursued his errant pup back to the house, where Mulder sat himself down on his blanket, awaiting his fate.

 

“All right, boy. I think this naughty pup needs some discipline, don’t you?” Skinner said, putting his hands on his hips and glaring down at Mulder, who shrugged – rather hopefully. “Go into the house, and fetch me the black leather gloves on the kitchen table ­ bring them in your mouth,” Skinner ordered. Mulder looked askance at his Master, who raised an eyebrow. “Now would be good. Your butt’s in enough trouble as it is.” Mulder loped off to the house and retrieved the gloves in question, returning them to his Master and dropping them in the other man’s lap. “All right, boy. I think it’s time for your morning discipline.” Skinner sat on his beach chair, and pulled the gloves on slowly ­ very slowly. Mulder sat transfixed, watching him. He had something of an erotic fixation with those gloves, and his cock was responding very eagerly to the idea of his Master wearing them while he punished his errant slave.

 

“Over my knee.” Skinner pointed at his lap, and Mulder, all too eagerly, got himself into position. He closed his eyes as his Master ran loving, black-gloved hands over his slave’s proffered bottom. “You can cry out, but no coherent words,” Skinner warned. Mulder nodded dreamily. He could feel those black leather gloves exploring his backside, slapping gently here and there, making a satisfying cracking sound with just the slightest touch. “Open your legs,” Skinner ordered and Mulder obeyed. Skinner’s black clad fingers fondled his slave’s balls, and cock, making him instantly hard, and then, without warning, withdrew the dog tail plug in one smooth action, making Mulder gasp. Then the spanking began in earnest. Those black leather gloves afforded Skinner’s hands protection while delivering a more stinging slap than flesh alone could manage. His Master went slowly, building up the pain like the maestro he was, then slowing down again, until Mulder felt himself trembling on the brink of total jellification. He started to squirm and wriggle over his Master’s knee, alternately sobbing and panting. His butt felt as if it was on fire, and he was yelping and howling loud enough to make Wanda glare at him pointedly and return to the house, her tail high in the air. Finally, just when he thought he couldn’t take any more without coming or bursting into tears, it finished. Mulder lay, moaning, over his Master’s knee and was then flipped to the ground.

 

“I hope you learned your lesson,” Skinner admonished. Mulder nodded tearfully.

 

“I don’t think you have. Not yet,” Skinner said, taking Mulder’s hard cock in his black-gloved hand, and caressing it firmly. Mulder closed his eyes, and made a choking sound in the back of his throat. There was something so intensely erotic about those gloves. “You can come if you want ­ but remember this is the only time you’ll be allowed to come today,” Skinner said. “You might want to hold it until later.” Mulder nodded, determined to save his pleasure until later in the day, and Skinner grinned, and ran the back of one gloved hand over his slave’s cheek.

 

“Sure?” Skinner said. Mulder nodded again, wishing Skinner would stop toying with him, and his Master suddenly, and unexpectedly, leaned forward, and grabbed both his slave’s sore buttocks within his gloved hands, and, at the same time, dipped his head to swallow his slave’s hard cock deep into his mouth. Mulder groaned and bucked back and forth into that warm, wet embrace. “Oh god!” He yelled, and was rewarded by a hearty slap on his backside in punishment, while his Master’s mouth continued to devour his slave’s cock. Mulder didn’t even try to stop himself from coming. He orgasmed with a deep, satisfied shudder into the back of his Master’s mouth. Skinner drew back, wiping his lips contentedly.

 

“I thought you were going to save it?” He said smugly.

 

“You try damn well holding on when someone is deep-throating you like that!” Mulder retorted without even thinking. Skinner grinned, and flexed his gloved hand menacingly.

 

“Oh dear. I think someone spoke out of turn. Time for another spanking,” he growled, grabbing his errant slave and throwing him back over his knee for another short session with the relentless black glove. When at last they’d finished Mulder clung, whimpering somewhere between ecstasy and oblivion, nestled against his Master on the lounging chair. It was warm, and they were both laughing and relaxed, and before long they were both fast asleep.

 

Mulder managed to get through the rest of the day without speaking and was rewarded with a doggy chew when Skinner took him back to the kennel that night. He rolled his eyes, and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at his Master who roared with laughter, and slapped his slave heartily on the bottom. Mulder spent the night sleeping in the kennel again, and woke the next morning to find himself staring at a pair of white pants, and shiny white shoes. His startled gaze traveled up a pair of long limbs, to discover that his Master was wearing a full sea captain uniform.

 

“Wakey wakey, boy. We have a busy day’s sailing ahead of us,” Skinner said, undoing his slave’s chain. Mulder sat up, speechless, and took in the full impact of his Master in Naval dress uniform, complete with starched white jacket, epaulettes, and peaked cap.

 

“Oh, shit,” he exclaimed. “You look fucking amazing.”

 

“Thank you, slave. You look naked. Go and shower, and then report to the kitchen.” Skinner removed his slave’s collar. “You can lose the dog tail butt plug. Your puppy days are over – for now,” Skinner said with a grin, slapping his still astounded and seriously impressed slave boy into action. Mulder went, with one last lingering look over his shoulder at his gloriously attired Master.

 

Mulder was given a pair of cut off denim shorts, a white cotton shirt, and some deck shoes to wear, but not before his Master had inserted yet another butt plug, just as big as the last. Skinner gave his slave a brief inspection before pushing the butt plug home. “We’re getting there, boy. You’re stretching out very nicely,” he commented. Mulder thought that was hardly surprising after being forced to endure wearing a butt plug day and night for days on end but he had to admit that he was becoming used to the familiar intrusion pressed deep inside his body. He pulled his shorts on over the plug, and glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked ordinary. Nobody would know there was a butt plugged, nipple pierced slave beneath the vacation clothing. They ate a quick breakfast, and then walked along the beach to the jetty at the far end of the bay, where a small boat was waiting for them. They scrambled onboard, and, much to Mulder’s disappointment, Skinner stripped off his jacket to reveal a plain black tee shirt underneath. “This is Hank’s brother, Tom. He’ll be taking us along the coast. We’ll stop off at a few places along the way,” Skinner said, introducing Mulder to a man who was unmistakably Hank’s brother, with the same sandy head of hair, freckles, and pale blue eyes. Tom didn’t say a lot, as Mulder soon found out, but he also proved completely unflappable as well, taking no notice whatsoever when Skinner told his slave that he’d be addressing his Master as Captain’ all day.

 

“And you know, boy, one of the things I’ve always wanted to do, is to administer some good, old fashioned naval discipline,” Skinner said, escorting his slaveboy out onto the deck. “You haven’t had your morning spanking yet, so I think now’s a good time.” Mulder stared at him aghast.

 

“With Tom just over there, Ma …I mean, Captain?” He asked, horrified.

 

“Oh, Tom’s paid not to watch,” Skinner said with a grin. “Undress, boy. Your Captain wants to punish you.” Mulder pulled his clothing off, one eye on where Tom was standing in the wheelhouse, steering the boat away from the coast. Skinner bent his slave over some barrels on the deck, and then retrieved a length of rope from his bag. “We want to do this properly, don’t we, boy?” He asked rhetorically, tying Mulder over the barrel. Mulder felt exposed, bobbing on a small boat, beneath the sun, the sea sparkling just a few feet away, and yet paradoxically, despite being tied he felt curiously free. He watched his Master remove his white braces, and Mulder’s stomach went into freefall.

 

“Oh god,” he muttered.

 

A few seconds later, Skinner rested the braces against his slave’s backside, and tapped gently on his buttocks in a series of stinging little slaps that were more like kisses, so light were they. The pace built up, and Mulder moaned, hugging the barrel, feeling his cock harden despite himself.

 

“Why are you being punished, Fox?” Skinner asked.

 

“Because it pleases you, Captain,” Mulder replied quickly.

 

“What are you?”

 

“Your slave, Captain.” Mulder felt the braces burn a line of fire across his buttocks.

 

“Will you forget that?” Skinner demanded.

 

“No, Captain! Never!” Mulder cried out, as the braces whipped freely across his backside again. It was a short, sweet spanking, and was soon over. Mulder was relieved when his Master untied him from the barrel, and reached for his clothes.

 

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want to feast my eyes on that beautiful, naked, glowing red butt for a while. Go and stand facing that mast over there.” Mulder did as ordered, and Skinner tied his hands together loosely around the mast with the rope, and then stepped back. He spent several minutes lovingly fondling his slave’s backside, and kissing his neck, telling Mulder how beautiful he was, and how proud of him he was, and then he left his slave in position, and returned to the wheelhouse. Mulder watched his Master deep in conversation with Tom, and rested his cheek on the side of the cold metal pole he was hugging. The sea wind whipped around his naked body, and the gulls were crying out overhead. He wondered what other erotic treats his Master had in store for him before their vacation was over.

 

Skinner left his slave standing naked and on display for an hour, before untying him, and allowing him to pull his clothing back on.

 

“We’re stopping for lunch in a little town,” he said, pulling Mulder close, and pointing at the shore. Mulder nodded happily. They disembarked a few minutes later, Mulder’s denim shorts chafing against his newly reddened backside, and wandered down the local high street, looking in the tourist shops.

 

“I didn’t bring my credit card,” Mulder complained mournfully, looking at a rack of postcards. “I wanted to send one to Scully.”

 

“Just buy whatever you want. I’ll pay,” Skinner told him. “Send one to your mother as well while you’re at it.”

 

They stopped at a restaurant and ate on a balcony overlooking the sea. “This is amazing,” Mulder murmured, placing his hand over his Master’s and gazing out at the blue water. “Can we come back here for a vacation every year?”

 

“You bet. When else do I get to pretend to be captain of my own boat?” Skinner grinned in reply. “Are you enjoying yourself, little one?” He asked in a low, soft tone. Mulder looked up, surprised, to find an almost anxious expression in his Master’s eyes. Didn’t Skinner know that this was the best time he’d ever had in his entire life?

 

“Walter, this is an erotic fantasyland. How the hell could I not be enjoying myself?” he replied sincerely. “Are you?” He asked in return. He was aware that it fell to Skinner to think up their more extreme and imaginative erotic adventures, but then as he did most of the household chores, that did give his Master time to dream up and arrange such outings as today’s boating excursion.

 

“It’s the best vacation I’ve ever had,” Skinner replied sincerely. “To be honest, I never took many before I met Andrew. I hated being away from the office, and I sure as hell hated all the paperwork that had built up in my absence. Andrew had different ideas though. He made it quite clear that all work and no play isn’t good for a top ­ or a sub.”

 

“I wish I’d known him,” Mulder said, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“He’d have been stricter with you than I am. He was a very firm master,” Skinner grinned.

 

“I bet he had to be in order to tame you,” Mulder laughed. “I have trouble imagining you as submissive you know.”

 

“Serving Andrew was easy.” Skinner shrugged.

 

“I’m still intrigued by that dragon cane. I want to know the story. I can’t imagine you ever being naughty enough to deserve it.”

 

“Well, there are different kinds of deserving. Yours generally tends to be sheer mischief, combined with a smart mouth, and a certain level of willfulness,” Skinner grinned.

 

“And yours?” Mulder asked, as intrigued as ever by his Master’s tales of being a sub.

 

“I was just stubborn – and secretive. And Pig headed.” Skinner shrugged. “Once I decided on something, or got an idea into my head, Andrew had the devil’s own time trying to turn me to his way of thinking. I’m glad he didn’t give up on me. I’m sure he must have been tempted at times.”

 

“No. He knew he had a good thing. He wouldn’t have given up on you,” Mulder said softly, fingering his Master’s palm thoughtfully.

 

“And I’ll never give up on you. You do know that, don’t you?” Skinner said, looking into Mulder’s eyes.

 

“After the past month when I’ve put you through all this shit, I think I’m beginning so,” Mulder replied, flushing slightly.

 

“I put Andrew through a fair amount of shit too,” Skinner said. “You’re not the only one with a monopoly on shit, Fox. He and I weathered a few storms, and you and I will as well. We already have.”

 

“Yeah.” Mulder nodded, and looked straight into his Master’s eyes. “I love you,” he said, honestly, and without embarrassment.

 

“I love you too. Come on. Daylight’s burning.” Skinner got up and Mulder followed him.

 

That one small moment had been another breakthrough. To be able to say what he felt so easily, in passing, and to have it treated so matter of factly, a statement that was so obvious it needed no further elaboration: that was a moment of profound contentment.

 

They wandered in and out of shops, and Skinner emerged from a jeweler’s store with a small, mysterious box, which he put in his pocket. “I said I’d buy you a souvenir of your encounter with the dragon cane, didn’t I?” He grinned, but refused to elaborate further. They returned to the boat, and found a small, deserted bay, where they stayed for a while, diving off the side of the boat naked, and swimming like white fishes in the cool water, before finally returning home just as darkness fell. They bade goodnight to Tom, and walked wearily along the beach.

 

“I going to build a small fire. Go and get some food, and bring it out, and we’ll sit and eat out here before turning in,” Skinner said.

 

It was yet another beautiful, clear evening. They sat on the blanket and looked into the flames of the fire, toasting marshmallows on long sticks. Mulder sat between Skinner’s open legs, his back resting against the big man’s chest.

 

“I don’t want to go home again. Ever,” Mulder sighed.

 

“You’d get bored if you stayed here long enough. One mention of UFO’s and you’d be off chasing all over the country again. You know you would,” Skinner said, squeezing Mulder tight.

 

“Yeah. I suppose, but this is so good. I never used to like vacations much either. I guess it’s who you spend them with that’s important,” Mulder mused, taking a bite out of his marshmallow. “And maybe what you do as well,” he grinned, elbowing his Master in the ribs. “So what else did you have planned for me, Master?” He asked.

 

“You’ll see.” Skinner threw another twig on the fire and they watched it burn. “You’ve done very well though, Fox. I’m pleased with your progress. Carry on like this and we’ll have that collaring ceremony sooner than you think. I have some plans for you, sweetheart. If you continue to respond so well, then before we leave, I’ll give you a treat of the kind you’ve never received before. It’ll be something very special.”

 

Mulder glanced up. “Can’t you tell me what it is?” He asked.

 

“No. It’s a surprise.” Skinner dropped his head and kissed Mulder’s neck. “And one I think you’ll enjoy a great deal. I think you’re ready for it now.”

 

“You’re not talking about the fisting are you?” Mulder asked nervously.

 

“No, sweetheart!” Skinner laughed. “I’m talking about something very different. Wait and see. You know, this has been such a good week that I’m giving you a little reminder of it.”

 

Skinner reached into his pocket, pulled out the little box he had bought from the jewelers, and gave it to his slave. Mulder glanced up into his Master’s eyes, surprised, and Skinner nodded, urging him to open it. Mulder pushed the box open with his long fingers, and smiled. There, nestled inside, was a small gold charm in the shape of a tiny, perfect, fire-breathing dragon.

 

“It’s beautiful, but I don’t have anything to wear it on,” he lamented.

 

Skinner laughed. “Sure you do.” He unbuttoned Mulder’s shirt, and fastened the tiny charm onto his slave’s right nipple ring. “Perfect,” he observed, giving the nipple a little squeeze of approval. Mulder lay back in his Master’s arms, smiling. He left his shirt open, loving the way the firelight caught the gold dragon, making it shine. “That’s for enduring the dreaded dragon cane,” Skinner said. Mulder shivered, remembering his marking.

 

“That thing was appalling. Will you ever use it on me again?” He asked.

 

“I expect so.” Skinner nuzzled his slave’s ear. “The dragon cane makes an effective instrument of punishment as well as of marking, and let’s face it, you’re bound to deserve a severe punishment every now and again. You wouldn’t be you if you were always perfectly well behaved. I wouldn’t want you to be perfect all the time either. That would spoil the fun.” Skinner grinned. Mulder sighed.

 

“Somehow I thought you’d say that. That thing is lethal though, Master.”

 

“I know.” Skinner’s arms squeezed tighter around his slave.

 

“Tell me about your time on the receiving end,” Mulder requested.

 

Skinner was silent for a moment, and Mulder wasn’t sure his Master was going to answer him, but then Skinner sighed.

 

“All right. You really enjoy stories involving my suffering far too much, boy,” he chided.

 

“I know. It’s just I get to see you in a completely different light,” Mulder admitted, chuckling. “The dragon cane story, Master,” he reminded Skinner when the other man fell silent again. Skinner nipped the back of his slave’s neck reprovingly, and then began the story.

 

“It was the first physical punishment I hadn’t requested myself,” he recalled. “Usually, Andrew only used corporal punishment on me at my own request ­ and he often made me pay for being too hard on myself by a session of bondage, which, as you know, I found very hard to take. I wasn’t fond of being restrained. I’m still not, but I have come to appreciate the stillness, and calm of being placed in bondage. It’s hard for me to feel out of control, which was why Andrew used that as a punishment, rather than pain, which I’ve always found easier to take.”

 

“Do you ever enjoy pain – I mean, being spanked, or paddled, or whatever I mean?” Mulder twisted around to look at his Master. Skinner considered it for a moment.

 

“I’d defy anyone not to enjoy a really well delivered erotic spanking, so yes, I understand the appeal. I don’t usually get an erotic thrill from more severe instruments though, or more serious punishment spankings, unlike you, my little pain slut.” He kissed Mulder’s ear, and Mulder grinned goofily in the firelight.

 

“Trust me, there are some punishments that even I don’t enjoy,” he retorted. “But then you know that.”

 

“Yes.” Skinner shrugged. “Well, a top must have some sanctions after all. Anyway, I was never really what you’d call bad’ or disobedient. On the contrary – I was almost too eager to be of use. I was very grateful to Andrew for dragging me out of the mess I was in, and I didn’t want to be any trouble to him. I’m used to obeying orders from my time in the military ­ and Andrew rarely asked me to do anything I didn’t want to do anyway. I was very eager, very helpful, but Andrew hadn’t really tamed me. I was just scared of losing him. I was too proud to admit that then, but it’s the truth. When I arrived at Andrew’s house I was already an all but broken man. He rebuilt me. We never went through the processes that you and I have been through, because I was drowning from the beginning and I clung to him for reassurance. He never had to take me down, the way I took you down, because I was already at rock bottom. Andrew needed to find my fire, to push me into becoming myself again, because I wasn’t. I was becoming completely dependent on him, and he didn’t want that, and he knew it wasn’t right for me. He knew that at work I could act confidently, and make decisions that affected many people’s lives, but at home, I’d lost all confidence in myself on an emotional level. He wanted to free me up, to make me find myself again, to be as assured on a personal level as I was in my career. It wasn’t easy because getting to open up about anything was always the hardest part. You’re not the only one who has trouble with honesty, Fox. I learned that the hard way. Not because I deliberately wanted to keep anything from Andrew, but because I was too used to hiding my secrets deep inside, and coping alone. I’m not like you. I can hide the way I’m feeling much more easily. Your emotions are read in your eyes, and your responses. You don’t hide yourself. You say what you think, you protest, even if it’ll get you into trouble. Not that you don’t have your secrets, everyone does, but I was much less forthcoming than you. It was hard for Andrew to know what was going on inside my mind when I’d just agree with him or stay silent about my worries and fears so he didn’t guess what they were, and one day, he just called me on it.” Skinner stopped and gazed into the fire for a long time. Mulder waited, patiently, eager to hear the rest of the story.

 

“We were staying at Murray’s house. I’d had a bad week. It was during that time when we had that second Waco on our hands, the Temple of the Seven Stars or whatever they were called. I took hell for that fuck up.” Mulder winced, remembering the pile of dead bodies that had been the end result of that particular case. He hadn’t realized Skinner had been in such deep shit with the higher echelons of the Bureau about that. “I didn’t tell Andrew any of this, because that was my habit with Sharon and I just didn’t know how to break it, but I was tired, and stressed by the weekend. I didn’t know Murray very well and I resented staying with him. I had wanted to spend the weekend in the apartment with Andrew, recharging my batteries, not making polite chit-chat with people I barely knew. I didn’t tell Andrew that though. I didn’t let my annoyance show, but Andrew had a sixth sense. He asked me how I was four times during the Saturday, and each time I replied that I was fine. He asked me if I was enjoying myself, and if I was pleased to be there, and I answered that I was. Finally, in the evening, he made our excuses to Murray and took me back to our room, where I found the dragon cane waiting. He picked it up, and asked me again how I was. I stated that I was fine. So he ordered me to strip, and bend over the bed. I was surprised.” Mulder looked up, to find Skinner staring straight ahead, lost in the memory. “Like I said, Andrew had never, ever punished me for something without me asking him to before. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. I asked him what I’d done, and he told me that he expected me to be honest about my feelings. I got angry, and told him I was being fucking honest ­ because I was, to my mind. I was fine. I just needed a bit of time to get over the events of the week. I didn’t need to do a whole emotional scene with Andrew. What I really didn’t want was for him to find me weak, or a burden. I wanted to be perfect, and undemanding, so he wouldn’t dump me.” Skinner shrugged. “He didn’t take any notice of my protestations to the contrary. He just fixed me with those vivid blue eyes, and said that if he had to tell me again, he’d use handcuffs to hold me in place. I didn’t need telling twice.” Skinner gave a rueful shrug. I bent over the bed, and I was really unsure how to take this. I could absorb a lot of punishment, but I was angry with him for not being sensitive to my needs by dragging me away to Murray’s house for the weekend, even though I hadn’t told him that I didn’t want to go. He rested the cane against my butt, and asked me again how I felt. I yelled that I was fine, and what do you expect me to fucking well say?’ and that was when I felt the first stripe.” Skinner shivered, and pulled Mulder closer. Mulder empathized all too well. He lowered his head and kissed his Master’s hands. “Well, you know what that damn cane feels like. I hollered something, and he asked me that same damn question over and over again, and it became a matter of pride to me to resist, to just yell that I was fine, to prove to him that he couldn’t damn well break me. Only of course he intended to. After the 8^th stripe, I was shaking.”

 

“Eight?” Mulder kissed his Master’s fingers again. Two had been bad enough. He wasn’t sure he could have stood eight.

 

“Yeah. After the 8^th, he came over, and ran his hand over my back, and asked me again how I was feeling. This time I snapped. I roared that I was fucking angrily. I told him I didn’t want to be here, that I’d had the week from hell, and I wanted to be relaxing at home, and then I stopped, worried by what I’d done, but instead of yelling back at me, he just sat down beside me, pulled me close, and held me. least that’s honest,’ he said, and I think” Skinner paused for a long time. “Yes, I think that’s probably when I started to cry,” he finished.

 

Mulder looked up, startled. “You cried?” It didn’t even seem possible. He couldn’t imagine it.

 

“Yeah. I cried. Like a fucking baby. And Andrew held me until it was over, and then he packed our bags, made our excuses to Murray, and took me home. It was the first of many such battles we had over my inability to talk about my feelings.”

 

“You’ve come a long way,” Mulder murmured.

 

“Andrew drummed that lesson home the hard way, believe me. Whenever I feel I’m backsliding, I take myself off to Elaine for another reminder,” Skinner said, hugging his slave close. “You’ll get there too, eventually,” he whispered into his slave’s ear.

 

“The hard way?” Mulder glanced up.

 

“To be honest, I don’t think there’s any other way,” Skinner replied with a grimace.

 

“Thank you for telling me that story.” Mulder leaned back in his Master’s arms again, and they stared into the fire for a long time, each lost in their own private thoughts. They had been here a week, and had a whole week left. Mulder felt a tingle of anticipation at the thought of the treat his Master had promised, and wondered what it was. He didn’t think the vacation could get much better, and even the fisting didn’t seem so horrifying now.

 

“You know, I used to hate beach vacations,” Mulder murmured some time later.

 

“Me too. Sand, sea, swimming, sleeping, spanking and far too much sex. So boring,” Skinner grinned.

 

“Exceedingly dull,” Mulder agreed, angling his head up for a kiss.

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 20