24/7 26. The Branding – Part 2

 

 

Mulder was in the middle of deep, comfortable sleep when a voice cut through his dreams. He struggled to make sense of it, burying his head in the pillow with a little moan, trying to ignore the insistent tones that were rousing him.

 

“Wanda,” the voice said to him. “Wanda!”

 

“Mmmm?” Mulder woke enough to wonder whether his Master was trying to find the little cat, but a second later he felt a whoosh of cold air as the sheets were pulled from his body. “Wanda!” His Master said in his ear, a discernible note of irritation in his voice.

 

“Wha…?” Mulder gazed around blearily.

 

“Obey me, boy!” His Master growled, and then, a split second later, Mulder found himself being flipped, none too gently, onto his stomach. His hips were grabbed and yanked up, and he found himself kneeling. He put out his hands to brace himself, and then came fully to wakefulness as he felt his Master’s hands pull his buttocks open and enter forcefully into his anus with one powerful thrust.

 

“Oh shit! What the fuck…?” Mulder shouted, as every nerve ending in his body jangled at the sudden intrusion into his sleepy flesh. His Master ignored him and Mulder struggled to stay upright as Skinner pumped into him forcefully. ‘Wanda’ fucks were always of the rough, extremely basic variety, which was usually a turn on for Mulder, and sure enough, his treacherous cock responded as soon as his brain got to grips with the situation. He realised that his Master had woken him early using the ‘Wanda’ word with the sole intention of making use of his slave without any finesse. Mulder glanced at the clock – it was 6.30 am, but they had been in the habit of sleeping in over the past few days so it felt as if he had been woken in the middle of the night. Skinner clearly intended for this to be an object lesson as well, because he kept up a fast but controlled pace for several long minutes while Mulder tried to come to terms mentally with what was happening. The suddenness of the event and the time his Master was taking was making him sore, and he was all too well aware that this was part of the lesson – his Master was making his slave fully aware that he was starting as he meant to go on.

 

“Shit…please…ow…shit…” Mulder moaned as the onslaught continued relentlessly.

 

“Hold your position, boy. I want to make full use of you,” Skinner told him tersely. His Master’s hands were firm on his hips, wrenching them back to meet his powerful thrusts and there was no way that Mulder could escape from the other man. Skinner finally came with a low roar and withdrew from his slave’s body. Mulder collapsed forward onto his arms, burying his head in them.

 

“Jeez, what a wake up call,” he murmured weakly, wondering if he’d ever walk again, although the ache in his cock told him he’d enjoyed the sensation of being so powerless and available even if he hadn’t enjoyed the actual physical sensation very much.

 

“Up.” Skinner’s hand thwapped down hard on his exposed bottom. “Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up and bring a washcloth for me, and then get your ass out here. I am NOT happy about your response so consider yourself in a whole heap of trouble, boy.”

 

Mulder slid out of the bed so fast he nearly fell over. Skinner sounded pissed as all hell and, as he headed for the bathroom, Mulder realised why. Skinner had used his special word, the one that Mulder had chosen, only to be almost completely ignored by his, admittedly sleepy, slave. This wasn’t good. Mulder washed himself down and then scrambled back to the bedroom with the washcloth. He knelt beside the bed and held the cloth out to his Master, his eyes down.

 

“Clean me,” Skinner ordered tersely.

 

Mulder did his task quickly, and then knelt back down again.

 

“All right – your explanation, boy,” Skinner demanded.

 

“I’m sorry, Master.” Mulder grimaced. “I was asleep…I didn’t understand what you wanted. It took me a few minutes to wake up enough to figure it out and by then it was too late.

 

“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear,” Skinner told him, in low, stern tones, “but you are my slave. Your body exists for my pleasure and use, and when I want access to it I expect it to be given to me immediately. I don’t care if you’re asleep – I expect you to be so attuned to your Master’s will that if I came to you in your dreams and commanded you to get on your hands and knees so I could use you you’d do it, immediately, and without question.”

 

“I’m sorry, Master,” Mulder said again, his cock responding as it always did to his Master’s more forceful choice of words.

 

“Maybe you are, but this is an indication of the fact that you’ve been backsliding, boy. I can see we have a lot of work to do to make you responsive to me. I’ve been too soft on you – you need to be reminded of who and what you are. There isn’t any part of your body that doesn’t belong to me. It isn’t yours, boy, it’s mine. You will not deny me entrance to your mouth or your ass – and I’ll enjoy myself in both those places whenever I please, for as long as I please, whether you’re asleep or awake. Understood?”

 

Mulder nodded, his throat dry. “Yes, Master,” he said croakily.

 

“Good. However, in order to make sure that the lesson has really been learned, I think a long punishment session is necessary,” Skinner informed him.

 

Mulder looked up, his heart pounding in his chest. It had been a long time since he had been on the receiving end of a serious punishment session and he wondered exactly what it would entail. He was astonished by how quickly his Master had succeeded in completely wrong-footing him. He had imagined that Skinner would slowly get him into headspace, maybe play some demanding but highly enjoyable sex games with him on and off over the next few days, but still be his kind lover, Walter. At the moment, however, there was no sign of Walter in those stern dark eyes. Skinner was completely and utterly every inch his Master and he was making it very clear to Mulder that right now he was a slave and that he would be treated as such. If Mulder had imagined he would struggle and resist he felt a very long way from being able to do so at this moment in time. He had been caught off guard and now he didn’t have a clue what he was doing – the control hadn’t so much been taken from him as yanked out from under his feet completely, leaving him out of breath and disoriented.

 

“Eyes down, boy,” Skinner barked. “Hold the submissive pose the way you were taught – or have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

 

“No, Master!” Mulder said hastily, straightening his back, widening his legs so that his erect cock was offered to his Master, and holding his chin up high but lowering his eyes, as he had been instructed a long time ago. Skinner rarely made him hold these poses nowadays – and Mulder hadn’t even realised that he missed it. Most of the time he enjoyed the comfortable relationship he had with the other man too much to even think about it, but in terms of getting into subspace it certainly didn’t hurt to revisit some of the basics – which was what Skinner had warned him they would be doing.

 

“That’s better. Now, this will be a long punishment session – in fact it will last the entire day,” Skinner told his slave. Mulder felt sure that his gulp was audible. “By the end of the day I want this to be a lesson you have learned down to the core of your soul so that if I were to whisper your special word to you while you were eating you’d present yourself to me the way you were taught to and the way in which you signally failed to do just now. Do you remember the position you are to assume when I use your word, boy?” Skinner barked.

 

“Yes, Master!”

 

“Then assume it now,” Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder got up, quickly, bent over the back of the armchair, and presented his ass to his Master. He held apart his ass cheeks to make his Master’s access easier should he choose to use him, flushing wildly as he did so because the position was both humiliating and intimate.

 

“Good,” Skinner commented. Mulder began to get up. “No – don’t move. I like the view,” Skinner said. “And as you didn’t present yourself properly to me earlier you can stay like that for the next few minutes. I’m going to use your special word several times for the next few days and I expect you to assume your position as quickly as you did just then – whatever time of the day or night I give the order. I might not choose to use you on many of the occasions I give the word, but you will stay in that position each time until I tell you that you may get up again. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder said, squirming at the thought of how he must look, standing here, his asshole exposed in this way.

 

“Good. The choice isn’t yours, Fox – you’ll do what you’re told, when you’re told, for as long as you are told.”

 

A firm slap on his bottom illustrated this point, and then Mulder heard his Master go into the bathroom. He listened to the sound of his Master peeing, taking a brief shower, and then brushing his teeth. Finally, after several long, degrading minutes, Skinner returned to the bedroom. Mulder watched from under his own armpit as Skinner pulled on sweats and then glanced at his slave again.

 

“I’m leaving the room. Remain in position, boy. If you move so much as an inch then you’ll take 6 strokes of the cane before I even begin your punishment session. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder muttered, wondering how long he could stay like this. This really was a reminder of their early days together – Skinner was uncompromising and demanding and Mulder found himself responding, even if he knew there was a rebellious, mutinous nugget deep inside himself that would have to be subdued before he achieved the total serenity that was eluding him. Although Skinner was doing a mighty fine job of taking him down, Mulder knew he was nowhere near the bottom of his submission yet – they had barely scratched the surface. The real challenges lay in front of him – and his cock told him that on some level he would enjoy every single torment even while his mind reeled from the knowledge of what was ahead.  

 

His Master returned a few minutes later bearing an armful of disciplinary implements, including the hated dragon cane. Mulder swallowed down hard, barely even daring to look at his Master from under his arm.

 

“All right, boy.” Skinner clicked his fingers and Mulder sank quickly into the submissive position at the other man’s feet. “First I’m going to clamp you,” he said ominously, opening a little velvet box and showing Mulder a set of nipple clamps. Mulder gave a low moan – these nipple clamps were the most vicious ones that his Master possessed and he knew just how painful they were.

 

“Fox,” Skinner said sharply. “You do understand that this is a punishment session, don’t you?”

 

Mulder swallowed hard, never taking his eyes off those hated clamps.

 

“Yes, Master,” he said, his voice barely audible.

 

“Good – do you understand why you’re being punished?” Skinner asked. Mulder shrugged. Skinner tapped his head firmly. “Well?” He asked.

 

“For not obeying you more quickly, Master?” Mulder asked with a tinge of rebellion in his voice. “Although I was asleep, Master,” he added resentfully. Although he had told Skinner to take him down, he hadn’t expected to be so forcefully wrenched back into his slavery and it was rankling with him. He had expected to be eased down gently with his Master’s usual erotic skill, and after the past few days of peace and quiet and enjoyable togetherness he was in no mood to be pushed, which was precisely what his Master seemed to be doing.

 

“I’ve already explained this to you, Fox, but you seem unwilling to accept it,” Skinner told him firmly. “You’re a slave – your sole purpose is to address yourself to my pleasure. I own you and it pleases me to introduce myself into any part of your body whenever I wish. I don’t care whether you’re fast asleep, boy. When I want to make use of you then I expect you to open your legs or mouth for me and immediately make yourself available.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder murmured.

 

“You do understand that such service is the most important and basic function of your slavery?” Skinner pressed.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder agreed.

 

“Then you will understand why you are being punished,” Skinner told him in a tone that allowed for no contradiction. Mulder squirmed. Put like that then it was all entirely logical but he had been asleep damnit! And he was a long way from the early days of his slavery when all this had been new to him and he was alert to every single nuance of his Master’s needs. Things had gotten…comfortable between them. Routines weren’t always followed. They knew each other much better now, and had settled into a version of slavery that wasn’t quite so demanding as this. Mulder wasn’t sure he wanted to be reminded so forcefully of the basics.

 

“Yes, Master,” he agreed at last, with a resentful grimace.

 

“You will also understand why this is going to be a particularly harsh punishment session,” Skinner told him. Mulder felt as if his heart had dropped out of his chest and into the soles of his feet. He glanced up and met his Master’s eyes for the first time.

 

“Eyes down!” Skinner snapped. Mulder obeyed hastily, shivering slightly.

 

“Yes, Master,” he said at last, feeling as if he was drowning, splashing around blindly with nothing to hold onto except his Master.

 

“Good. I don’t want you to be in any doubt about this. I want you to prepare yourself mentally for an extremely long and painful day,” Skinner said. “You may look at the implements on the bed.” Mulder did so, shaking even more as he took in the array of disciplinary implements lying there. Skinner had brought down half a dozen of the most no-nonsense implements in the Playroom. “I will be spanking you every hour, on the hour,” Skinner said, glancing at his watch. “Beginning at 8 am and continuing until your bedtime. For each spanking you will wear the nipple clamps. It’s your responsibility to remind me when your next spanking is due. Keep an eye on your watch – I can assure you that your punishment will be considerably worse if you forget to remind me.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder was shaking in earnest now. This sounded so damn serious.

 

“I’ll use whichever implement I feel appropriate at the time – although it will always be one of these 6 implements. You will therefore carry them around all day in preparation for your next spanking – I don’t want them to be further than an arm’s reach from you at any point in time. For this first spanking, I’ll use the paddle.” He picked up a hard, wooden paddle. It was plain, workmanlike, and utterly un-erotic – and Mulder knew from personal experience that it packed a flat, solid punch.

 

“However, as we have another half an hour or so to go until 8 am, I think some silent reflection would do you good. It will give you time to consider the day’s punishments, how you’ve brought them on yourself, and what you will learn from them. I think that in order to give the next half an hour some additional impact, that you can wear the nipple clamps as well.”

 

Mulder had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from protesting but his heart did a flip from where it was currently residing in the soles of his feet.

 

“Problem, slave?” Skinner asked.

 

“Those clamps are particularly painful, Master,” Mulder said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a squawk to his own ears.

 

“Yes, they are,” Skinner affirmed. “Did I not make it clear that this was to be a punishment?”

 

“No, Master…I mean, yes, you did,” Mulder replied.

 

“The clamps are part of your punishment, boy. They’re supposed to be painful. Maybe the pain will help to focus your mind on where you went wrong this morning and how you can improve on that dismal performance,” Skinner snapped. “Now, come here and present yourself for clamping.”

 

Mulder shuffled closer to his Master but didn’t dare get to his feet without permission. He knelt, instead, his shoulders thrown back, his nipples standing pert and proud on his chest, seemingly unaware of the torture that was about to be visited on them. Mulder watched in trepidation as his Master removed the clamps from their box.

 

“Eyes down!” Skinner commanded. “If I have to remind you of that again then you’ll receive a lash from my bullwhip.” Mulder shuddered and dropped his gaze immediately. He had no wish to experience the bullwhip while his Master was in this kind of mood. “Shoulders out, arms behind your back – and keep them there,” Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed, aware that the action pushed his chest out even more, leaving his nipples totally exposed and vulnerable. He waited for what felt like several long minutes, expecting to feel those torturing clamps on his nipples at any point, wondering what on earth could be taking his Master so long. Finally he started to tremble in earnest – the anticipation of imminent pain was almost worse than the pain itself, and he was on the brink of getting up, and telling his Master it was a mistake, and he couldn’t face it, when suddenly his left nipple was grasped firmly, and a second later the steel jaws of the clamp snapped shut over it with a resounding lash of pure pain. Mulder gave a gasping cry, which his Master ignored.

 

“Now the other one,” Skinner told him.

 

“Please…Master…it hurts…” Mulder whimpered. Skinner had never made him wear these clamps for more than five or ten minutes before. He couldn’t imagine how he would endure half an hour in them, followed by a spanking, which was to be conducted while he was still wearing them, but Skinner was utterly implacable.

 

“It’s supposed to hurt, Fox. This is a punishment. I want to hurt my slave in order to make him understand the full extent of his Master’s displeasure. Now, what are you being punished for?”

 

“Not making myself immediately available for my Master’s use,” Mulder whispered.

 

“Exactly – and as the crime is so serious, I can assure you the punishment will be correspondingly severe,” Skinner told him. Mulder didn’t have time to reply because Skniner grasped his other nipple and fastened the clamp onto it with a swift movement that took Mulder’s breath away.

 

“Oh shit…” He broke position, his hands coming up to whisk those cutting steel-jawed points of pure fire from his nipples – only to find the way blocked by his Master’s large hands.

 

“Back into position, boy,” Skinner said firmly, pushing him back down. Mulder gave a disconsolate cry, and settled back on his heels, tears of pure pain pricking in the back of his eyes.

 

“Good boy. If you take your punishment well I’ll be proud of you,” Skinner told him, more gently than Mulder had been expecting. His Master pushed his slave’s sweaty, tousled hair away from his face. “That’s good. Go with the pain, boy. Give yourself up to it,” Skinner whispered and Mulder moaned and leaned his head in to meet his Master’s embrace, needing Skinner’s strength and reassurance to see him through this ordeal. His nipples were points of blazing agony and it still hadn’t abated to a manageable level.

 

“Please…please…” he whispered, nuzzling his Master’s hand hopefully. “I can’t wear them for much longer, Master…please…”

 

“You’ll wear them for the next half an hour and you’ll continue to wear them through your spanking. Only when your spanking is over will I remove them,” Skinner told him, although his tone was loving, almost erotic now. He bent down, lifted Mulder’s chin, and then pressed his lips against his slave’s, claiming him utterly with his mouth. Mulder moaned again and leaned in to his Master’s body, distracted a little from the burn in his chest by his Master’s sweet, loving kiss. “Good boy,” Skinner said releasing him. He crouched in front of his slave and took Mulder’s face in his hands. “This will be hard on you, little one, but it’s a lesson you need to learn,” he said, his dark eyes full of encouragement.

 

“It hurts so much, Master,” Mulder said miserably, leaning his head against the other man’s chest.

 

“I know, sweetheart. Go with the pain, bear it as your right and your due. Take it into yourself, and learn from it,” Skinner whispered, stroking his slave’s hair comfortingly.

 

Mulder gave a choking cry and tried to do just that. The presence of his Master, gently stroking and comforting him helped – with Skinner at his side, encouraging him, he felt he could endure any ordeal.

 

Skinner stroked him for several long minutes and the pain subsided into something a little more bearable although still unbelievably agonising, and then, just as Mulder thought he might be able to endure this, Skinner moved away and said: “Wanda.”

 

Mulder looked up at his Master in alarm, and then, seeing Skinner’s expression start to turn thunderous at his slow reaction, he quickly turned, got to his feet, and bent himself over the armchair once more. Every movement seemed to jolt his painful nipples unbearably, and he had to be careful how he arranged himself over the back of the chair so that they didn’t dig even further into his pained flesh. When he had gotten himself ready, he carefully moved his hands back and held his buttocks open for his Master, should he wish to use him. Skinner stepped over to him, and slapped his butt sharply.

 

“Still too slow. When will you understand that there is to be no delay on this, Fox? I say your word to you, and you immediately present yourself to me for use. You don’t look at me for confirmation, and you don’t hesitate, or play for time. You just get into position, smoothly, quickly, and demonstrate to me what a good and available slave you are.” Skinner illustrated the word ‘available’ by sliding a finger into his slave’s anus. Mulder closed his eyes, and tried to ignore his hard cock – it went without saying that his Master didn’t intend for him to come today but despite the pain and frustration of his current situation, he couldn’t deny that he was turned on, as he always was when Skinner treated him in this most uncompromising and yet erotic way. Skinner sank his finger deep into Mulder’s anus and Mulder sighed and pushed his butt out as his Master unerringly hit his prostate.

 

“Don’t move, boy,” Skinner warned. “This is NOT about your pleasure.”

 

“No, Master,” Mulder replied, wishing desperately that it was.

 

His Master finger fucked him for several minutes, which Mulder thoroughly enjoyed despite his Master’s injunction that it wasn’t about his pleasure, and then Skinner withdrew his finger and walked into the en suite bathroom, leaving his slave exposed over the armchair, his hands still keeping his buttocks open should his Master wish to use him.

 

Skinner left his slave there for what must have been ten or fifteen minutes. It was the most unendurably humiliating position, made even worse by the fact that Mulder couldn’t lean comfortably on the armchair for fear of disturbing the vicious points of steel that were digging into his nipples. Mulder felt as if he was going to pass out – the nipple clamps were unbearable and the position he was in was making his legs shake from the strain but his Master showed him no mercy. Skinner insisted that his slave remain clamped and in position until 8 am precisely, and only then did he call his slave over. Mulder stood up, red faced and winded by the fact that it was only 8 am and the day had a long, painful way to go before this punishment session was over.

 

“All right – time for your first spanking. Get yourself into the grace position, boy, and prepare to be truly thankful for what you’re about to receive.” Skinner gave a macabre smile, which made Mulder shudder. He walked over to the wall and got into position, his hands flat against the surface of the wall, his legs wide apart, his butt jutting out, exposed, waiting for its punishment. He heard his Master approach and then jumped as the other man placed a gentle hand on his butt, fondling tenderly.

 

“Ah, this is such a beautiful bottom. Unfortunately I haven’t kept it as red as it should be. An ass like this should be permanently glowing and I can assure you that today there will be no opportunity for the lovely blush I’m about to bestow to fade. I’ll keep your ass constantly warm…” Mulder lost himself in the litany, loving the deep, rich sound of his Master’s voice even as he quailed at the import of what the other man was saying. The caressing hand was removed from his ass, and, a few seconds later, the hard wooden paddle descended on his waiting flesh with a resounding thwack. Mulder gave a hoarse cry and was soon yelling in earnest as his Master rained down blow after blow. He didn’t give Mulder time to get his breath back between swats, and he didn’t stop until every square inch of his slave’s bottom had been covered numerous times.  

 

The onslaught came to an abrupt end and Mulder stood there, still braced against the wall, his breathing coming in hard pants.

 

“Good boy. I’m very proud of you for taking that so well. I enjoy punishing you, Fox. Your ass looks so good when it’s red…I love watching it wriggle as it waits for my paddle to punish it. You look very sexy when you abandon yourself to me, head thrown back, legs wide apart…I like that,” Skinner said throatily, making Mulder’s cock become even harder, if that were possible. “Good boy. I’m going to play with you for a while. Hold still,” Skinner said, standing close behind his slave, his sweats rubbing maddeningly on Mulder’s sensitised backside. His Master kneaded his buttocks for awhile, making Mulder squirm and cry out although he held position – just. Then Skinner’s hands went around his slave’s front and he gently rubbed Mulder’s chest. His fingers spidered up towards Mulder’s nipples, and then there was a slight jerking tug as Skinner removed the clamps and a few seconds later Mulder felt a flash of pain so bright that it almost blinded him. He knew he was howling out loud and reeling as the blood flowed back into his nipples after their half hour of torment.

 

“Oh god! Oh shit!” he cried. “Please, Master…please…” His cries didn’t fall on deaf ears. Mulder felt Skinner’s hands on his body, pulling him away from the wall, turning him, and then his Master’s warm mouth descended on his nipples, soothing them, roving from one to the other, softly reviving them. After a few seconds of this, Skinner drew back and pulled his slave close, hugging him to his chest, comforting him.

 

“Good boy. I’m proud of you…good boy…well done, Fox…” he murmured over and over again and that was the only thing that gave Mulder the strength to continue. He buried his face in his Master’s shoulder and held on for dear life as Skinner fondled, kissed and caressed his naked slave, taking good care of him.

 

“Please don’t use those clamps on me again, Master,” Mulder whispered abjectly. “Please don’t…I’m sorry…please…”

 

“Hush, little one,” Skinner told him, hugging Mulder and rocking him against his chest. “I will use them again because I promised I would and because you’re being punished. You’ll endure it, little one, every hour, on the hour, although only for a few minutes next time. You’ll take it because I ask you to, and because you have to learn your lesson.”

 

“I’ve learned it!” Mulder protested.

 

“Wanda,” Skinner murmured and Mulder didn’t even register the word for several seconds. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of his Master’s loving arms. He wanted to be rocked here forever. “Wanda,” Skinner said again, pushing his slave away. Mulder gave a moan of protest and got onto his knees. He leaned forward, and held his buttocks open. “You see,” Skinner said, tracing a finger down his slave’s back. “You haven’t learned this lesson yet, Fox. You just want the punishment to stop and that’s a different thing entirely. Now, you can get up and get washed and then come downstairs for breakfast. Remember to bring your implements with you. And Fox…” He called his slave back as Mulder walked, disconsolately towards the bathroom. “Don’t jerk off in there,” Skinner told his slave, a knowing expression in his dark eyes. “From now on you don’t even touch your penis without my permission – and that includes going to the bathroom. Ask me if you need to go.”

 

Mulder nodded miserably. This was a familiar part of his Master’s training routines – and one he hated. He knew that Skinner was trying to remind him that his body belonged to his Master, even down to the most basic of bodily functions, but it was humiliating to have to ask permission to touch his own cock in order to take a piss. Mulder fought with himself for a moment, struggling with what he knew he had to do, and then he opened his mouth.

 

“Master, please may I touch your property when I pee?” He asked.

 

Skinner nodded. “Very well, slave. And?” He prompted.

 

“And may I wash your property in the shower, Master?” Mulder whispered, hating the words as he fought his own submission. If only this was easy! If only he could just be in the right place in his head at a snap of his Master’s fingers, but Mulder had to concede that it had been a very long time since his Master had last taken him this low, and while he fought it and struggled against it, he so desperately wanted to achieve the serenity and joy that always awaited him when he made the journey. He remembered, wryly, how he was the one who was always urging Skinner to take him close to edge play, to make it really count – and yet now it was happening to him he just wanted to fight it.

 

“No, slave. You may not,” Skinner told him. “You can allow the water to wash over you but you won’t touch yourself. You can do without soap and you can dry off naturally by walking around the house.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder murmured, only just managing to stop himself from answering back at the absurd limitations that had been placed on him.

 

“Well hurry, slave. Daylight’s burning.” Skinner shoed him into the shower and then turned and went back downstairs. Mulder glared after him.

 

  If Mulder imagined there would be any respite over breakfast he was sorely mistaken. Skinner swiftly instructed him to kneel beside his chair at the dining room table, eyes down, and disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the food. A few seconds later Mulder was instructed to open his mouth and a spoonful of food was pushed between his lips. He couldn’t see the food so it was only when he started to chew that he realised what it was – and almost spat it out in disgust.

 

“Problem, slave?” Skinner asked.

 

“It’s salad, Master,” Mulder told him.

 

“Very observant, slave,” Skinner replied urbanely, pushing a spoonful of beetroot into Mulder’s mouth. Mulder almost gagged on it.

 

“For breakfast, Master?” He questioned, swallowing the vegetable down hurriedly.

 

“That’s right,” Skinner affirmed pleasantly.

 

Mulder wasn’t a great fan of salad at the best of times and his Master seemed to have gathered together all his least favourite items of food and put them on one plate. They were all foods he could actually eat – he didn’t loathe them and they didn’t make him retch so he could swallow them down – but he didn’t actually like any of them. Skinner continued feeding his slave until Mulder had devoured a fair amount of lettuce, cucumber, beets, and various other salad vegetables. Then his Master handed his slave a portion of plain brown bread, without any butter on it. His Master disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a plate of eggs and toast, which he proceeded to devour. It smelled divine and Mulder’s mouth was watering as he slowly put bite-sized pieces of the plain, cold bread into his mouth. His Master didn’t offer him any of his own breakfast though, and he spent a long, leisurely hour eating his fill and reading the paper, utterly ignoring his kneeling slave. Mulder felt the nugget of rebellion grow inside him. He couldn’t stand much more of this. On the dot of 9 am, Skinner stood up.

 

“On your feet, slave,” he ordered. Mulder got up, and was taken by surprise when his nipples were grasped firmly and the clamps reapplied to them. Skinner had moved so fast that he hadn’t even realised what was happening until too late and then that familiar flash of agony shot through his chest, making him cry out loud.

 

“Good boy. Now, over the table. I’m going to use the strap on you this time.” Skinner pushed Mulder firmly over the dining room table and Mulder found his face ended up so close to his Master’s plates that he could smell the divine scent of a really good breakfast. It was tantalising and it distracted him from his pained nipples – but not for long, as within seconds his Master’s strap was making painful contact with his bottom. The spanking was short and to the point, and then he was pulled to his feet, and the clamps were whisked away from his nipples, making him hop, silently yelping with pain as he did so.

 

“Don’t make a fuss, boy. Take your punishment properly, like an obedient slave who knows he is deserving of his Master’s correction,” Skinner told him sternly. Mulder took several deep breaths, trying to pull himself back together, his resentment growing. His Master clearly had no idea how damn painful those clamps were – and that strap had gone about its work with a mighty sting as well. “Clear away the plates and wash up,” Skinner ordered. “Quickly, slave, we have a lot to get through today.” And so saying he went and sat down on the couch.

 

“We?” Mulder muttered under his breath. “We have a lot to get through today?” He piled up the plates on top of each other and started taking them into the kitchen. He was half way across the room when Skinner’s voice rang out.

 

“Wanda.”

 

Mulder skidded to a halt, unable to believe his ears. Now? When he had his arms full of dirty plates? He shot his Master a vicious glance, returned to the table, dumped the plates back on them, and bent over, grasping his buttocks to open himself for his Master’s use.

 

“Still too slow – and next time lose the attitude, boy,” Skinner snapped. Mulder gritted his teeth and tried to keep from growling out loud. His Master made no use of him. He just left him there for a few minutes and then ordered him to continue with his task of washing the dishes.

 

Mulder found Wanda sitting in her usual place by the faucet waiting for someone to turn it on so she could drink, despite the fact that she had a full bowl of water waiting for her on the floor.

 

“Oh fuck. Shit, fuck, shit,” Mulder growled in a low undertone once he was alone in the kitchen. “Fuck,” he said again, kicking a cupboard for good measure. Wanda flicked her ears at him. “Nothing personal, Wanda, but I’m coming to really hate your name,” Mulder mused. He rested his elbows on the kitchen counter and stared morosely at the wall. “Your slave is a total bastard, you know that?” He told her. She blinked solemnly. “Yes, I know I told him to take me down, but I didn’t expect this. I was thinking more of a long, hot sex session in the Playroom,” he grumbled. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, taking him by surprise. “It’s so hard, Wanda,” he whispered, and she tripped daintily across the counter and nestled under his chin, rubbing her head affectionately against his face. He buried himself in her fur, and she purred delightedly, coaxing a small smile from him. “I know,” he told her. “A session in the Playroom would have been fun but it wouldn’t have taken me down enough to cope with being branded – and I do want that, Wanda. I just wish it wasn’t so hard…Maybe if it was easy then I wouldn’t appreciate it…I dunno. I’m trying to find a silver lining here because I hate him so much right now.” He said that with such vehemence that Wanda’s yellowy-green eyes widened and gazed at him anxiously, her ears darting back and forth. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. Come here.” He picked her up and gently caressed her until she relaxed again. Then, with a sigh, he put her down and returned to the dirty plates.

 

As soon as he was finished, Skinner clipped his nipple lead on him and took him upstairs to the 18^th floor apartment. Mulder walked to heel, as he had been taught many months previously – but it had been a long time since his Master had leashed him and he struggled to remember all the correct moves. They hadn’t been upstairs since the aborted party and Mulder’s heart sank when he surveyed the total mess that greeted them. There were empty glasses and bottles strewn around, as well as the congealed mess of food on dozens of plates.

 

“You’ll clean the entire apartment,” Skinner told him. “Make sure that your implements are within arm’s reach at all times. I’ll sit here and direct operations.” He cleared a space on the couch and sat down. Mulder stared at him.

 

“I’m sure that will very helpful, Master,” he said sarcastically, unable to stop himself. Skinner raised an eyebrow.

 

“There’s no point in keeping a slave and working yourself,” he replied sweetly. Mulder clenched his fists and tried hard to hold onto his temper. “Wanda,” Skinner said, piling on the pressure. Mulder fought a split second battle with himself. Of all the freaking times to use that word, now was one of the worst his Master could have chosen. Mulder knew he was close to the edge, knew he was fighting a silent battle with Skinner every step of the way instead of just surrendering himself to his Master’s will, but he couldn’t stop himself. He seriously considered not obeying, as Skinner watched him, his dark eyes studying his slave’s response searchingly, although he made no move, as if waiting for Mulder to come to a decision. Finally, with a growl of anger, Mulder got on his hands and knees and presented his ass to his Master. He was surprised a few seconds later to feel the strap on his still warm bottom. His Master gave him three swift swats. “That’s for the delay, Fox. Now get this hot ass into the kitchen and start washing the glasses,” Skinner ordered.

 

Mulder scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the little galley kitchen, his cheeks flushing almost as bright as his butt cheeks. Damn but he really couldn’t take much more of this.

 

 

 

The day didn’t improve. Mulder suffered through 3 more hourly spankings, and his nipples were now sore almost all the time from the repeated clampings. The tidy-up in the upstairs apartment went at a snail’s pace – mainly owing to Skinner’s insistence that he take his disciplinary implements everywhere with him, so if he was carrying glasses from the Playroom to the kitchen he had to carry his implements in one hand and under his arm, leaving him with only enough room to carry a couple of glasses back to the kitchen. It was infuriating, and Mulder’s irritation level was soon sky high. Skinner stopped the proceedings after his slave’s 1 o’ clock spanking and fed his slave a bean stew – which Mulder disliked to the point of almost spitting it out. Then it was straight back to his task of cleaning the upstairs apartment. By 3 o’ clock Mulder was close to the edge. He took a garbage sack around the apartment, picking up litter, nudging his implements into accompanying him with his foot as he went. He glanced over to the couch and saw that his Master’s eyes were closed – which seemed like a perfect opportunity to abandon the implements and chase around the apartment at a much faster pace in order to clear up all the litter. He worked quickly and efficiently, one eye on his Master as he went, and he was almost done when he heard a noise behind him.

 

“I thought I made it clear that your implements were to be kept within reach at all times?” Skinner said ominously, rising from the couch.

 

“Oh for god’s sake!” Mulder snapped. “It’ll take all night to get this done if I have to bring them along every step of the fucking way!”

 

“Who said there was any hurry?” Skinner replied smoothly. “There isn’t. If it takes all day then that’s fine. If it takes 2 days then that’s fine too.” He smiled urbanely. “You aren’t going anywhere, slave and I’m happy to supervise you until it’s done.”

 

“This is ridiculous!” Mulder complained. “What the fuck point is there in this?”

 

“The point, slave, is that you learn to obey my orders,” Skinner said in a tone of pure steel. “But as I can see you prefer to circumvent them and as you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head I think we need to help you. Now, stay.” He gestured with his hand and Mulder sank reluctantly to his knees, wondering what was going to happen next. His Master went along to the Playroom and returned a few seconds later with an item that made Mulder’s heart sink. “Maybe this will keep you quiet,” Skinner said, holding up the large ball gag. “Open.” He stood over Mulder, waiting for his slave to open his mouth. Mulder stared up at his Master, mutely, and they gazed at each other for several long moments. Mulder could feel himself giving up precious fragments of his independence with each passing minute and he hated it – and hated his Master for bringing him to this, for being so implacable, for not giving an inch, and for making Mulder take everything he handed out. Skinner didn’t give the order again, he just held out the gag, waiting for his slave to obey. Mulder stared him out for a long time, and then, finally, with a growl of pure frustration, he gave in and opened his mouth. Skinner strapped the ball gag into his mouth and Mulder moaned as he realised this was one of the most punitive ball gags his Master possessed – his jaw was aching within seconds from the sheer size of the thing. His misery was complete.

 

Skinner set Mulder back to work, which he did in enforced silence, his rebellion growing with every passing second. He hated the ball gag with a vengeance, and longed to rip it from his mouth and throw it at his Master who was sitting comfortably on the couch reading a novel while Mulder did all the hard work. What made matters worse was that while he couldn’t talk, he could drool which was both humiliating and annoying. The large ball gag made it impossible to stop the spittle sliding out of the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin and when he tried to wipe it away with his hand his Master forbade him to touch his property which just put Mulder in an even worse mood as he had to endure the slow, steady tide of his own spit rolling down his chin almost constantly. Mulder stomped around the apartment with bad grace and his next few spankings did nothing to improve his mood. Skinner made sure that each one was hard and his bottom was now as sore as his nipples. He couldn’t even yell during spankings because of the intrusive ball gag and the ache in his jaw was getting worse with every passing second. Skinner didn’t remove the gag for several hours, and Mulder couldn’t bring himself to go and beg his Master to remove it by sitting at the big man’s side and giving him his famous pleading puppy dog gaze. Skinner ignored both him and the atmosphere of total anger and frustration that was now emanating from his slave. Mulder’s movements became noisier and noisier as he cleared up – if he couldn’t speak then he could sure as hell make his annoyance known by crashing plates and glasses around and generally making as much of a racket as possible.

 

Skinner only released him from the gag at dinner-time, when he fed his slave a watery vegetable stew. Mulder jaw ached so much that for several minutes he couldn’t do much but kneel, working his jaw back and forth trying to loosen it while his Master fed him. Mulder was close to retching as he swallowed the tasteless meal, and then his Master directed him to finish in the upstairs apartment. It was now 7 o’ clock, and Mulder was exhausted, sore, and in the worst mood he’d ever been in his life. He finally finished cleaning at 8.45, and then Skinner inspected the apartment, wiping his finger over all the surfaces to ensure that they were clean and dust free. Mulder’s internal voice kept up a bitter dialogue throughout as he silently berated his Master for putting him through such a day from hell.

 

“Good, slave. I’m pleased,” Skinner said, gazing around the now spotless apartment.  Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed – as soon as possible. “I’ll just inspect the Playroom,” Skinner said, and he walked along the corridor with Mulder at his heels, inspected that room as well, and then, finally satisfied, he nodded to his slave. “You’ve finished now, slave, so I think it’s time to mark you. Hand me my cane.” He held out his hand.

 

“What?” Mulder stiffened.

 

“My cane, slave, and quickly,” Skinner urged.

 

Mulder felt the full force of his anger and misery well up inside him. “You cannot be serious!” He snapped.

 

“I most certainly am.” Skinner drew himself up to his full height and gazed imperiously at his slave. “Your ass may be sore but it isn’t marked – and it’s time it was.”

 

“You’ve been spanking me all fucking day,” Mulder spat. “My ass hurts so much…I can’t take a marking as well, Master. You are not going to use this fucking cane on me after all the spankings I’ve taken today. You’re not…YOU ARE NOT!” Some wild urge inside him made him throw all caution to the wind and he grabbed the cane from the pile of implements and snapped it over his knee, breaking it in two.

 

“Come here,” Skinner said in a deadly tone.

 

“NO!” Mulder cried. “I’ve had enough!”

 

His Master walked towards him and something in Mulder snapped. He lunged at the other man, transformed into a sobbing, hissing wildcat. He pummelled his fists against Skinner’s chest, screaming incoherently at the top of his voice. Skinner endured the worst of his slave’s explosion, just standing there, absorbing the blows, and then he grabbed his slave’s wrists and held them firmly behind Mulder’s back. Mulder tried to free himself, struggling pointlessly against his Master’s superior strength for several long minutes, still screeching like a banshee. 

 

“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” He screamed, fighting for breath, all the anger washing through him, exploding out of him in a torrent of abuse. Skinner held him for several long minutes while he struggled, and then finally Mulder gave up, all his energy leaving him in one go. He almost fell but his Master, whose hands had been holding him down, now held him up.

 

“It’s all right, little one,” Skinner said softly. “Let it all out. It’s fine. Scream all you want. Let it go. I’m not going to let you fall.” He held Mulder up for a long time while Mulder sagged against him. Finally Mulder’s anger turned into tears and he found himself holding onto his Master for dear life, burying his head in Skinner’s shoulder as the sobs came out of him in great choking gasps. Skinner released his slave’s wrists and his hands came up and gathered Mulder in close, holding him tight against his chest.

 

“You can get as angry as you like, and you can struggle as much as you like,” Skinner said in firm, low tones, “I’ll still be here. I’m strong enough to take all of it, Fox. I can take all of you.”

 

“I hate you,” Mulder whispered into his Master’s shoulder.

 

“Yup. I guess you do right now,” Skinner said with a low, rumbling laugh. “I didn’t think you’d last as long as you did. You are such an obstinate boy.”

 

“What?” Mulder drew back. “You were testing me?”

 

“No, I think you were testing me. I was just trying to get all that anger out of you so we could move on,” Skinner said softly.

 

“I wasn’t angry until you made me angry,” Mulder muttered.

 

“Sure you were. You wanted to be branded and it didn’t happen. You’re angry with yourself for not being able to go through with it and you’re angry with me for not insisting that you did. I can insist, Fox, as I’m sure I proved today. I can be every inch the implacable, demanding Master whenever it’s necessary. I think in your heart you already knew that, but you needed a reminder.”

 

“Fuck.” Mulder leaned his head wearily against his Master’s shoulder. “You’ve been psyching me out again,” he murmured.

 

“Yes. I just didn’t expect the explosion to take this long to happen – although you sure as hell have been building it up all day. How’s it going in there? Do you need to kick and scream any more or are you done?”

 

Mulder glanced up into his Master’s amused brown eyes.

 

“You knew I was going to explode?”

 

“You wanted to struggle…you told me so last night. I needed to get that struggle out of the way so we could move you down into a more serene state of acceptance. I am not going to brand a slave who is spitting, cursing and hollering at me all the way through. I just forced the pace a little, to get to the stuff you’d buried deep. You never can just let something go – you need to get it out and express it before you can move on. That’s just you.” Skinner gently kissed his slave’s forehead. “Now listen to me, pup,” he said fondly, and Mulder sighed and relaxed against his Master’s chest, comforted by being addressed lovingly as ‘pup’ and not the colder and more distant ‘slave’ which was how Skinner had been addressing him all day. “Good boy.” Skinner kissed him again. “I know it’s hard being taken right down – and we still have a way to go. It’s been a long time since I’ve made you go this far down but we’ll get there,” Skinner said soothingly.

 

“I just want to be at peace,” Mulder sighed, swaying in his Master’s arms. “I want to feel that serenity again.”

 

“I know, and you will – but first you have to give up all the Mulder stuff,” Skinner told him calmly. “You have to give up what you want, or what you think you want, and you have to remember that first lesson I taught you – the one about honesty. You have to stop fighting me, boy. I needed to make you literally fight me in order to move you beyond it. You have to start working with me. Remember that you don’t have any choices…I’m in charge. Do you trust me, Fox?”

 

Mulder looked up into his Master’s dark eyes, then sighed and replaced his head on Skinner’s shoulder.

 

“Yes, Master. You know I do,” he said at last.

 

“Good. Then surrender yourself to that trust and we can start to make some progress here. Put aside your own small wants and needs, give up the pettiness, anger and guilt…and just be, Fox. Find the root of your slavery and enjoy it. Give all the negativity up to me. Give me the fear – of your own submission, of being branded and all the commitment that entails because you are afraid of that, deep inside. Give all that up. Give up your worries about the last time someone put a mark on your body.” Skinner’s fingers gently caressed the scar on Mulder’s chest where Krycek had carved his initials into is flesh. “Because you have been worried about that, pup,” Skinner said softly. “This will be different. This branding will be done with love, and when it happens you’ll welcome my mark onto your body. It won’t be done in fear and pain by someone who hates you.”

 

“How do you know all this?” Mulder felt as if all the most secret parts of his psyche had been uncovered, and that his Master had found a secret side of himself that he had not even known existed.

 

“Because you’re my slave,” Skinner said softly. “And you belong to me.”  

 

Mulder rested his head against his Master’s shoulder again. Those few words just about summed everything up, and they filled him with warmth.

 

“You’ve been fighting me, sweetheart,” Skinner said, caressing his slave gently. “Oh not just now, you’ve been fighting me all day. Instead of giving yourself up to me, you’ve fought with me every single step of the way, over every order. Today was a battle of wills – I expected it to be and it was, and of course you fought tooth and nail but you didn’t win, sweetheart because you didn’t want to – not deep inside. Now…are you ready to trust me properly? Are you ready to accept my mastery over you? Can you turn off that little voice inside your head that questions and complains about everything I ask of you?”

 

Mulder bit on his lip, shame-faced. He had done that. Although he had superficially obeyed his Master throughout the day, he had not done so willingly, and several sharp retorts had risen to his tongue, whether he had actually spoken them or not. He had not actually accepted his Master’s right to punish him, even though he had presented himself for that punishment.

 

“I can do that, Master,” he said, wearily, feeling better just for saying it and for starting on the journey to true submission that would bring him the reward he wanted at the end of it.

 

“Good boy.” Skinner kissed his slave. “Because I can keep being an S.O.B if I have to.”

 

“I’d rather you didn’t have to, Master,” Mulder said softly.

 

“So would I,” Skinner chuckled. “I will keep pushing you though, boy, because you need that right now. I’d like to make it more erotic for you though…if you’re good, I might even let you come.”

 

Mulder glanced up eagerly and Skinner laughed out loud. “I can see that’s an incentive. Bear it in mind, pup.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder angled up his face for a kiss, which Skinner duly obliged him with. It was a deep, loving kiss, full of warmth and reassurance, and Mulder drowned in it for a long time. Then Skinner disengaged his arms and pushed his slave away. He picked up the remains of the dragon cane and held them up.

 

“Very impressive,” he commented.

 

Mulder made a face. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said with a sigh, although he wasn’t sure he felt all that repentant.

 

“Fortunately, I have more than one,” Skinner told him brightly. Mulder knew his face had to be a picture of dismay. He watched as Skinner opened a cupboard and pulled out another hated cane.

 

“Please, Master,” he begged. “You’re not…you’re not still going to mark me are you?” After the catharsis of releasing his own emotions, and their conversation, Mulder couldn’t believe Skinner still intended to go ahead with the marking.

 

“Yes, Fox, I am,” his Master told him firmly.

 

“But…Master, I thought…that is…I’m not fighting you any more, I promise…but I really can’t stand any more tonight,” Mulder said desperately. Skinner put the dragon cane on the massage table and walked over to his slave. He put his hands on Mulder’s shoulders and looked into his slave’s eyes.

 

“Yes you can, sweetheart. If I ask you to, you’ll take it. You’ll take whatever I ask you to, however hard, because you’re my slave, and you want to obey me,” Skinner said.

 

Mulder bit on his lip again and looked down at the floor, trying to get control of himself. He could feel the tears threatening to well up again and fought them down. He had made enough of an idiot of himself for one day…but he really couldn’t bear the idea of being marked. His ass felt sore and sensitised from all the spankings it had received during the day, and he was tired and over-wrought and just wanted to go to bed, lie down in his Master’s arms, and recover.

 

“Fox.” Skinner put a finger under Mulder’s chin and tipped up his head so that his slave had no choice but to look at him.

 

“My ass hurts so much, Master. Please, can’t we do this tomorrow?” Mulder asked.

 

“No, little one, we can’t,” Skinner told him, gently, but firmly. “You understand it intellectually but you aren’t feeling it yet, Fox. You’re my slave. You don’t have a say in what I do to you, sweetheart. You aren’t making the choices around here – I am. It pleases me to mark you – and you need to know that there’s no way out, and that when your Master promises something, he delivers it.”

 

“I do know that. I’m just asking…” Mulder began. Skinner hushed him by putting a finger over his mouth.

 

“Come over here, Fox,” he said, leading Mulder over to the heaped array of cushions in the corner of the room.

 

Skinner turned off the lights, casting the Playroom into darkness, and then settled himself down on the cushions and pulled his slave between his open legs. He wrapped his legs and arms around his slave, effectively imprisoning him, and they both gazed out at the city beneath them. There was no more beautiful view than that from the huge Playroom windows at night, Fox thought to himself as he surveyed the sight. Gradually he felt his tense muscles relax and he melted back against his Master’s chest. Skinner stroked his arms and kissed his hair and then, when Mulder was almost asleep, he started talking.

 

“Once upon a time…” he began.

 

Mulder opened his eyes. “You’re telling me a story?” He interrupted.

 

“Yes, I am,” Skinner said. “I’m going to tell you a story and I want you to keep this story in mind for the next few days. When I’ve finished, I’m going to mark you with the cane – 3 strokes, Fox.”

 

Mulder shivered, whimpering slightly, and his Master gently soothed him with his hands.

 

“Once upon a time,” he began again, and Mulder tried to listen and not to think about that cane descending on his vulnerable flesh, “in an ancient world, long, long ago, there was a warlord. He rode into battle and was always victorious, and his fame spread throughout the land.”

 

Mulder found himself fascinated despite himself. He would never have imagined his Master to be a story-telling kind of man, but Skinner’s deep, baritone voice soothed him, and he was intrigued by the subject matter, despite himself.

 

“The warlord had many slaves,” Skinner continued, “and he used them all well. He bought men and women in the slave markets or won them as spoils of war, and they worked in his house and on his fields, and he worked many of them in his bed as well. Remember that this was an ancient society, Fox. His slaves had no choice but to serve him and submit to his will. He wasn’t a harsh master but he was unhappy because despite all his success, he had never been in love. The slaves came and went from his bed but he barely noticed – one body was so much like another, and he didn’t love any of them – nor did he find any free man or woman to love either, not even among the nobles with whom he mixed. He had simply never been in love and began to wonder whether he was even capable of it. He was an intelligent, literary man, and it pained him that he could not identify with the great classic romantic stories. It also pained him that the one thing he was good at was warfare – he knew that he was a genius at that, and it worried him greatly that he should be good at something so destructive and yet fail at something as simple and beautiful as falling love. The warlord became desperate – he tried to find something in his slaves to keep him interested, but failed. They all bored him and he cast them off, one after the other, as a result. One day, the warlord went to battle and met the spoiled young prince of a neighbouring city in a fight. The young man was beautiful and strong, and he fought well. He wore the most sparkling breastplate, and his sword was decorated with the most magnificent jewels – all of which made our warlord laugh. He wore more comfortable clothes in which to do battle – a little torn in places but weathered and practical. He didn’t need adornments – he knew he was there to fight and to win, and that was what he did. As he fought the young prince, he decided that when he won he would take this pretty, overdressed young man as his slave, and enjoy himself with the spoils of this particular battle.”

 

Mulder leaned further back against his Master’s chest, loving the story. His cock was semi-erect as he imagined the spoiled young prince as the slave of the strong, lonely warlord. Skinner paused and Mulder looked up.

 

“He did win, didn’t he, Master?” he asked, anxiously.

 

“Yes, Fox, he did win, and he took great pleasure in stripping the lovely prince of his fine cloak, his jewelled sword, and his sparkling armour. He tied the prince’s hands in front of his body and then dragged him back to the camp behind his horse. The prince ran well, the warlord noted, and he often turned back so that he could see the young man’s long legs chase along behind the warlord’s horse, keeping pace with him. When he got back to the camp, he untied the prince and took him to his tent. He ordered his other slaves to bring warm water and then he commanded the prince to kneel in front of him. He explained to the young man that he was no longer a prince – he was now a slave, a spoil of war, and subject to the whim and will of his new master.”

 

Skinner’s hand reached expertly for Mulder’s now erect cock and caressed it firmly, and Mulder sighed and leaned back.

 

“Much to the warlord’s surprise, his new slave didn’t protest, or howl, or scream, or struggle, or complain as many before him had done. Instead, he knelt at his master’s feet, and offered to wash his master’s bruised body. The warlord was taken aback – he had not expected this – but he allowed the prince to wash him. Then the young man asked for permission to oil his master’s battle weary body, and, surprised once more, the warlord agreed. The prince took a long time slowly, almost reverentially, massaging his fingers into his master’s skin. When he had finished, he knelt at his master’s side, awaiting his orders. The warlord was delighted. He instructed his new slave to remove what was left of his expensive clothing, and then he inspected his new slave’s beautiful body.”

 

Mulder moaned and thrust up into his Master’s hand. Skinner squeezed the top of his penis hard.

 

“Uh-uh, boy, not until the end of the story,” he instructed. “The warlord took a long time inspecting the prince – the young man was exquisite, if a little bruised from battle, and the warlord was delighted with his new acquisition. He took the young man to his bed, and used him hard, still high from the adrenaline of battle. He expected his slave to cry out and flinch from him, as so many had done before, but this strange, exotic new slave responded in a way that none of his other slaves ever had. Instead of flinching from his master’s touch, his slave returned the warlord’s passion with a passion of his own. He begged for his master’s kisses, and covered his master with caresses. When the warlord finished with his slave the first time, the young man rested in his master’s arms, and kissed him, sighing with contentment. Instead of cowering at the far side of his master’s bed, he stayed close to him, and, when his master had recovered from his first climax, his slave asked permission to pleasure him again. He brought his master to climax over and over again during the course of that night and the warlord was stunned and delighted. He was so strong that his slaves often feared him, but not this one. This one took all his strength and matched it with his own. His new slave sighed and moaned in his master’s arms and came as many times as the warlord. He was excited by the warlord’s slightest touch, and begged for more. He begged to feel his master’s hard cock in his mouth and up his ass, begged for his master’s kisses – he even begged to feel his master’s whip on his back and butt. The warlord had never had a more exciting lover, and for the first time he felt the cold around his heart begin to thaw. Over the course of the next few weeks, he spent many a long hour pounding into his slave…”

 

Mulder gave a little cry and struggled hard not to come…this story was turning him on so much.

 

“And when they were not making love, the warlord talked to his slave and discovered an intelligent man like himself, a literary man who shared his love of the romantic classics. They had so much to talk about that the warlord found himself growing besotted not only with his slave’s beautiful body but also with his mind…and this scared him.”

 

Mulder groaned, as Skinner dropped the tempo on his cock, soothing it more slowly now.

 

“He was scared by how much he loved the prince, and, because of his fear, he decided that he had to remind the young man that he was just a slave. So, he took his whip to his slave. When he had finished, the prince crawled to his master on his hands and knees, kissed his whip, and thanked him for his attention. The warlord was astonished – and even more in love than before. And because he was so much in love he became jealous, and decided that he must show the world that the prince belonged to him and was his slave – so he resolved to brand him.”

 

Mulder glanced up, jolted out of the story, but Skinner’s eyes were warm and reassuring as he continued.

 

“He told the young man that he was no longer a prince but was now his slave, and he wanted to put his mark on him to proclaim that fact to the world so that everyone would know – and, more importantly, so that the slave himself would fully understand and appreciate that fact as well. The young man trembled but knelt before his master and kissed his master’s feet. He had no choice – his master wanted to brand him and the prince could do nothing to prevent it. He was a slave, a possession, a belonging and his master could brand him if it pleased him to do so. The warlord tied his slave, heated a brand in the fire, and then pressed it into his slave’s flesh as if he were a calf, or some other animal. When he released his slave, the warlord was amazed when the young man sank to his knees again and kissed his master’s feet. When he raised the prince’s head, his slave’s eyes were full of tears. The warlord was filled with remorse but his slave brushed his concern aside – he told his master that they were tears of joy because at last his master had chosen to acknowledge his love by placing a brand on him. The warlord hadn’t branded any of his other slaves so the prince took this as a sign that he was special, and beloved.”

 

Mulder sighed, and grasped his own Master’s arm. He stroked it gently, and Skinner smiled down on him and kissed his forehead.

 

 

 

“The warlord was disturbed and he took himself off to his tent to be alone. He was afraid. Although he was a big, strong, powerful man he was afraid of his own emotions because falling in love made him feel vulnerable, and weak. He sank into a decline, and refused to allow anyone to come near him – but his slave was not so easily dissuaded, and one night he managed to bypass the guards his master had placed at the entrance to his tent, crept inside, and knelt at his master’s side, watching him as he slept. His master woke and, in despair, asked his slave why he was there, and his slave replied: “Where else would I be but by my master’s side?”

 

The warlord was upset by his slave’s words. “You are so devoted to me, despite everything I do to you,” he said, taking hold of the young man’s face and gazing deep into his eyes, searching for an answer to this enigma. “Why?”

 

His slave smiled. “Because I know that you whip me and brand me because you love me, and that makes me happy,” he replied.

 

The warlord shook his head. “I do love you,” he said, no longer able to fight it, and amazed to find that he had finally fallen in love after so many long, lonely years. “But what I don’t understand is why you should love me when I enslaved you.”

 

“Oh, master, you didn’t enslave me – I gave myself to you freely,” his slave replied. “I followed your exploits for years, my lord. I watched you go into battle, and you were so strong and noble and yet also so alone and lost. You became an obsession with me and I longed to bring happiness into your life. I was a spoiled prince but I had always known in my heart that I longed to worship at the feet of a strong man like you. I knew that I had fallen in love with you but I also knew that you only ever took slaves to your bed and I was sure you would reject me if I approached you any other way. So, I decided to meet you on the battlefield. If you killed me there, then I could at least die happy, having been felled by your beloved hand. If I survived, then I hoped you would find me interesting enough to take as your slave. I was lucky – you did – and as soon as I felt your touch I knew I was where I belonged. It was as if I was consumed by fire – I’m still burning for you and always will be. I’m yours, master, which is all I ever wanted to be. You can do what you like to me but please don’t turn away from me because I worship you, my master.”

 

The warlord gazed at his slave, shocked. “You gave yourself up to slavery because you loved me?” He asked, uncomprehending.

 

“Yes, my lord,” his slave replied. “And I have never been happier.”

 

The warlord smiled, finally understanding that in this young man he had found the ideal complement to himself – the other side of his own coin. He pulled his slave close. “Even if I whip you, or use you harshly?” he asked. “You love me, even then?”

 

“I am yours, master. I love the kiss of your whip.” His slave smiled. “And you may use me in any way that pleases you, because I am your slave.” The young man kissed his master, and his master held him tight. And the warlord was never lonely again from that day forward – he loved his slave until the end of their days and sometimes, as he looked at his naked, sleeping slave, he would trace his finger over his slave’s brand and wonder who, exactly, had enslaved who.”

 

Skinner came to an end, his hand still grasping his slave’s cock firmly.

 

“That was beautiful, Master,” Mulder said dreamily.

 

“I’m glad you liked it, little one,” Skinner said softly. “I want you to use it. Over the next few days I want you to remember the prince whenever you feel that you can’t go on, or you don’t want to obey me. I want you to think about the joy he took from his own submission, and I want you to find that same joy inside yourself.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder agreed readily. He wanted that too.

 

“Now…I’m going to allow you to come, and then I’m going to mark you,” Skinner told his slave.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder agreed, no longer protesting. He thought of the prince, back in a time when he truly wouldn’t have had any choice in what his Master did to him, and he found that thought unbearably erotic. It took no more than a couple of strokes of Skinner’s hand on his hard cock to make him come. Skinner smiled and held his panting slave against his chest in the aftermath of his climax.

 

“Good boy,” he murmured. He waited until Mulder’s breathing had returned to normal and then squeezed Mulder’s shoulder lightly. “Get up, Fox. I want to mark you,” he said.

 

Mulder got to his feet quickly, eager to accept his Master’s mark onto his flesh. Yes, his butt was already sore, but he didn’t care about that any more. Like the prince in the story he was his Master’s slave and Skinner could do what he wished with him. He waited, in a dreamlike state, as his Master tied the leather pouch over his genitals, and he obeyed immediately when Skinner directed him to lie over the spanking horse. He shivered as he felt the tip of his Master’s cane between his knees.

 

“Further apart, slave. Offer this ass up to me for marking,” Skinner ordered. Mulder opened his legs wider, and pushed his bottom out to meet the cane. “Good boy.” Skinner rested the cane on his slave’s buttocks for a long time, and then Mulder heard a sudden whoosh followed by a deep, stinging pain. He gave a little cry, but didn’t break position. The second stroke hit the sit spot with a powerful force and Mulder gave a gasping cry, but still he didn’t break position – instead he just pushed his ass out even further, making an even easier target for his Master. He repeated the litany over and over in his head – he belonged to Skinner, he was his Master’s beloved slave, his Master could do what he wished with him. He was proud to bear his Master’s marks on his bottom and would be even prouder to wear his Master’s brand, proclaiming who and what he was, the proof of his Master’s love and ownership burned into his flesh. The final stroke took his breath away and he lay over the spanking horse, gasping, for several seconds until his Master helped him to his feet, enveloped him in his warm arms, and deposited a deep, heartfelt kiss on his slave’s lips. Mulder swayed dreamily in his Master’s arms, utterly lost in the possibilities of his own submission.

 

“Well done, slave. I’m proud of you,” Skinner said. “Now, I think it’s time for bed.”

 

“Yes, Master!” Mulder agreed readily.

 

They went back downstairs to the main bedroom, and Mulder slid eagerly under the sheets. Skinner emerged from the bathroom, took one look at his slave, and shook his head.

 

“On the floor, pup. You’ll sleep at the foot of the bed tonight,” he ordered. Mulder gazed at his Master in dismay – after the day he’d had, he longed to sleep curled up in his Master’s arms. 

 

“Quickly, slave. On the floor.” Skinner pointed and Mulder scrambled hastily from the bed. He lay down at its foot instead, and Skinner threw him a pillow and some blankets, and then he went over to the closet and drew out a long length of chain.

 

“You’ll sleep in bondage,” he instructed. He fastened Mulder’s thick, heavy collar around his slave’s neck and then attached the chain to it, and finished by tying it to the leg of the bed. There wasn’t much slack – Skinner had tied his slave tightly, not giving him much room to move around during the night.

 

“I’ll leave the key here.” Skinner put it under his slave’s pillow. If you need to use the bathroom, or there’s an emergency, then you can unlock yourself – but you are forbidden to do so under any other circumstances. Understood?”

 

Mulder nodded glumly and then settled down at the foot of his Master’s bed. He would have given anything to have slept in Skinner’s arms so he consoled himself thinking of the prince, and how he would have enjoyed even the small boon of being allowed to sleep close to his master’s feet, and within seconds Mulder was fast asleep.  

 

 

 

He was woken early the next morning, by someone leaning over him and saying one word in his ear:

 

“Wanda.”

 

Even half asleep as he was, Mulder rolled immediately onto his front, kicked his blankets away, and presented himself for his Master’s use, wincing slightly as his hands made contact with his sore, marked bottom. A few seconds later, he felt his Master’s hard cock enter into his body and cried out, welcoming it in, opening himself up even more to his Master’s touch. Skinner had spurned his slave so many times the previous day that Mulder was delighted to find himself being so comprehensively used today. His cock was already hard, knowing he was being of service to his Master, and Skinner made very good use of him, riding him hard and fast and then coming deep within his slave’s body. His Master lingered there for a few moments, surprising his slave by dropping several kisses on his back, and then he withdrew.

 

“That was excellent, boy. I’m very pleased with you,” Skinner told his slave affectionately. He turned Mulder over and kissed his slave soundly. “Time for a shower – please remember that you are forbidden to touch your cock for the rest of the day without my permission,” he told his slave. Mulder nodded and followed the big man into the shower. Skinner turned on the water, pulled his slave in behind him, and then frowned, looking down at his own, now flaccid penis.

 

“My slave isn’t as clean as I’d like,” he commented.

 

“I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t have time yesterday to perform my usual cleaning routines,” Mulder said, shamefaced and embarrassed.

 

“Then today I will take charge of the matter,” Skinner told him. “There will be no spankings today unless you do something to earn them, slave. I’m more than satisfied with the state of my slave’s buttocks this morning. Today we will concentrate on what’s inside instead. Hands against the wall, boy.”

 

He turned Mulder around and pushed him against the tiled surface of the wall. Mulder put his head back, loving the feel of the warm water washing over him, and his Master’s strong hands playing with his body. He felt his buttocks being parted, and then Skinner pushed a finger inside him. “This area is going to get a lot of attention today, boy,” Skinner hissed into his ear, only just audible above the sound of the water gushing down on both of them. “I want you to focus on this opening, and how it’s ready and available for your Master’s use at all times,” he purred. “You were a little tight this morning – probably because it was early and you were surprised, but we’ll loosen you up today. I want to keep you stretched, and I want you to understand that I can fill you whenever I choose, however I choose, because your body belongs to me.” His teeth closed gently over Mulder’s skin, nipping his back as he roved over his slave’s shoulders, one of his fingers sliding in and out of his slave’s anus. Mulder moaned and pushed his ass back, and Skinner wrapped his arm around Mulder’s body and thrust into him several times with his fingers until Mulder felt as if his cock would explode. Then Skinner withdrew, and handed his slave the soap.

 

“Wash us both, boy,” he commanded. Mulder obeyed, and then dried his Master. He was overjoyed that Skinner allowed him to dress him as well, and then he followed his Master downstairs.

 

 

 

Mulder wasn’t surprised when his Master ordered him to kneel beside his chair, instead of allowing him to sit up at the table, but he did as commanded immediately, and knelt there peacefully, allowing his submission to wash over him. It felt like such a relief not to be fighting his Master! His cock stood out proud from his body, on display for his Master to touch or ignore as he saw fit, and Mulder felt much calmer than he had the previous day. He was pleasantly surprised to be fed warm, sweet oatmeal for breakfast, and not salad, and he opened his mouth obediently for his Master to feed him, keeping his head up and his eyes down throughout. After breakfast Skinner took his slave by surprise by walking him along to the little workroom that was next to the laundry room.

 

“I’m going to make something,” Skinner told his slave. “Something secret,” he added. “I want you here, boy, but I don’t want you to see what I’m making until it’s ready, so I’m going to blindfold you. A bit of sensory deprivation will do you good, and you can keep yourself occupied by imagining what exactly I’m building.”

 

“Could you give me a clue, Master?” Mulder surveyed the pieces of wood that his Master had piled up in the corner of the room but he had no idea what Skinner intended to make from them.

 

“Well, this has been something I’ve been thinking about for some time. I bought the necessary materials some time ago but haven’t had a chance to work on the actual project. Rest assured that it’s something very intimate that I intend to ensure my slave makes full use of.” Skinner gave a broad grin, and Mulder tried not to look as apprehensive as he felt. “You can kneel over here. I’ll put you through all your positions at ten minute intervals. You can start with the submissive position,” Skinner told his slave with a click of his fingers.

 

Mulder obeyed and a few seconds later a thick, dark, rubber blindfold was placed over his eyes. It was a very efficient blindfold and Mulder couldn’t see anything around the edges. He knelt for ten minutes, listening to his Master move around the room. Skinner was whistling softly to himself and a little while later, he returned to his slave’s side.

 

“Grace position, slave,” he commanded.

 

Mulder got up, shakily, and turned to the wall, which was just behind him. He reached out fumbling hands, found the wall, and leaned against it, ass out. He heard his Master move away and then there was the sound of sawing. What on earth could Skinner be making, Mulder wondered? A paddle? They had plenty of those upstairs so why would his Master need to make one? Anyway, there had been too much of that wood for just a paddle. The blindfold was a strange sensation. It really did make Mulder focus on the sounds in the room, and the feel of his own body, naked, his ass pushed out and exposed to the room. He was woken out of his reverie by a swat from his Master’s hand on his butt.

 

“All right, boy, confessional position,” Skinner ordered and Mulder got into position quickly. He wasn’t sure how many hours were spent changing positions in this way, listening to his Master work, and wondering what on earth the big man was making. Mulder lost himself in the fantasy of visualising his Master’s strong arms as he worked on the wood. In his mind’s eye he could see a bare-chested Skinner leaning over whatever he was building, lovingly working the wood with those blunt capable fingers, in much the same way as he lovingly worked his slave, his burly forearms rippling, effortlessly pushing the plane down the wood, brow furrowed in concentration, little curls of wood shavings clinging to his chest hair… The smell of sawdust filled Mulder’s senses, making the fantasy image seem achingly real. He longed to be able to sit in silent contemplation, studying his Master at work, and yet curiously found that being denied that simple pleasure was somehow the gateway to his submission. He settled into it, accepting it, and felt a calmness descend on him that seeped all the way into his body and gave him a feeling of genuine peace. He felt at one with his Master, felt as if he had contributed somehow to whatever it was his Master was making, and that he was a vital part of that creation.   

 

They broke for lunch, which Mulder ate at his Master’s knee in the dining room, still blindfolded, trying to identify each new taste, and sometimes failing. It was amazing how hard it was to guess what some foods were by taste alone, but thankfully his Master only fed him one thing that he disliked – although the big man insisted that he swallowed down the broccoli without complaint. They spent some more time in the workroom in the afternoon, and then, after much sawing, banging and sanding, Skinner seemed to be satisfied with his creation.

 

“Stay here. I’m going to put this in the living room. I’ll be back in a minute,” Skinner informed his slave. Mulder was tempted to peek when his Master had gone, but he figured it wasn’t worth it – the item, whatever it was, was gone, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tell what his Master had made just by examining the sawdust. Skinner returned a few minutes later, and took his slave’s arm.

 

“We’re going up to the Playroom, boy,” he said. “I’m going to keep you blindfolded – I think it’ll help focus your mind on the sensations in your body.”

 

Mulder cock leapt at that and he docilely allowed his Master to lead him up the stairs and into the Playroom, all the time wondering what erotic delights his Master had in store for him.  

 

Skinner escorted his slave into the Playroom’s en suite bathroom, and Mulder frowned, wondering what on earth was going to take place in here. His heart sank as he was bent over the side of the bathtub and a nozzle was pushed into his ass. A few seconds later he felt a flood of warm water in his bowels and he gave a little exclamation.

 

“Quiet, pup. I told you once that if you didn’t keep yourself clean for me I’d give you an enforced enema,” Skinner told him firmly. Mulder gritted his teeth, disliking the sensation intensely. The cramps started a couple of minutes later and Mulder tried to get up.

 

“I need to go…” He said, reaching for the blindfold, feeling a sensation of panic. Skinner grabbed his hands and put them back down at his sides.

 

“I want you to hold it,” he said.

 

“I can’t!” Mulder protested, disoriented, wondering where the toilet was.

 

“Yes you can.” Skinner grabbed his slave and held him.

 

Mulder tried to remember to breathe as he held on, trying to ignore the sensation in his bowels. He knew what Skinner was attempting to do – first he removed his slave’s sense of vision, making him dependent on his Master, and then he demonstrated the level of control he had over his slave, even down to the most fundamental of bodily motions. Mulder rested his chin on his Master’s shoulder, giving in and accepting.

 

“Please…soon…” he whispered.

 

“Another minute. Hold it,” Skinner told him.

 

Mulder found the strength from somewhere to obey and when the minute was up his Master led him to the toilet and allowed him to relieve himself – only to then push Mulder over the bath and repeat the process, much to his slave’s dismay. Skinner went through the whole thing a third time, by which time Mulder had become more familiar with the sensations and less panicky, but all the same he was very relieved when his Master handed him a towel and told him it was over. Skinner gave his slave a kiss as a reward.

 

“Good boy – you’re now all clean and ready to use the new toy I made for you,” he said. He took Mulder’s arm again and led him back down the stairs to the living room. “All right, boy, kneel in the submissive position, then I’ll remove the blindfold so that you can appreciate my handiwork but afterwards it goes back on. I think you benefit from being blindfolded.” Mulder wasn’t too sure about that but he had to admit that it did focus his thoughts inward and he was starting to enjoy the hazy darkness, and lack of visual stimulation. He knelt and then held his breath as he felt his Master stand behind him. Skinner removed the blindfold and Mulder blinked – and then gazed at what was in front of him. It looked like a seat, attached to a pole, and sticking out of the centre of the seat was…a large dildo. Mulder glanced up at his Master in alarm.

 

“See how nicely it’s designed so that you sit on the stool at precisely the right height to give me your oral services should I need them.” Skinner waved his arm expansively at the extremely pervy looking seat.

 

“I’ve got to sit on that?” Mulder squeaked.

 

“You’ve taken bigger.” Skinner raised an eyebrow. “It pleases me to have you on display, and to know that you will be constantly thinking about what’s inside you, boy. I’m going to start you off this afternoon. You’ll be here for quite some time so I want you to relax and learn from the experience. In a moment I’ll put your blindfold back on, and then I’ll seat you. Once you’re in position you will remain as still and silent as possible. You will only talk if in distress. Whenever you hear me walk past, I want you to open your mouth, in case I should wish to use it.” He gave a broad grin and Mulder swallowed hard.

 

“It’s diabolical, Master,” he said, somewhat awestruck.

 

“You like it then?” Skinner asked. “I thought you would, little one.” He glanced down at Mulder’s straining, erect cock with a delighted smile.

 

 

 

Mulder watched as his Master placed a condom on the dildo and lubed it thoroughly, and then his blindfold was replaced and his Master ordered him to his feet. He was ushered over to what his Master had dubbed the ‘peg seat’ and he was lowered over it. “Hold your ass cheeks apart…that’s good,” Skinner said, as he eased his slave down.

 

“Shit!” Mulder complained as the broad dildo distended him.

 

“Keep going.” Skinner pushed him into place, so that the dildo completely filled him, and then he bound his slave’s hands behind his back, and fastened them to the pole. Mulder settled down cautiously, with a grunt. The dildo was hard and unyielding and it felt different to wearing a butt plug – because the dildo was stuck into the surface of the chair and didn’t move with his body so he had to be careful to sit up straight and not move around or it poked him. “Oh that’s good…that’s beautiful. You make a sight for sore eyes,” Skinner told his slave, and then he kissed Mulder firmly on the mouth. “How does it feel?”

 

“Like I’m sitting on a chair with a big fuck-off dildo up my ass?” Mulder commented, wishing he could see himself, sitting here naked, his arms tied behind his back, his ass claimed by the large intrusive dildo. He was as turned on as all hell by it.

 

Skinner laughed. “Ah, I can tell you like it as much as I do! Now, be still, slave. And remember that I will expect your oral services at frequent intervals.”

 

Mulder nodded, feeling utterly aroused by the whole scenario. He listened to his Master walk over to the couch, and imagined what he must look like to the other man. The large dildo served to keep the nature of his servitude constantly in mind – it wasn’t painful but it was uncomfortable – and it was certainly impossible to think of anything else except the fact that he was sitting impaled on a dildo, especially as he was blindfolded so he couldn’t even look around the room.

 

 

 

There was silence for a long while, and then Mulder heard his Master get up from the couch and walk over to him. He opened his mouth immediately, and was rewarded when he felt his Master’s large, velvety cock pressed against his lips. He sucked enthusiastically for several minutes, enjoying the dual sensations of the dildo up his ass and his Master’s big cock in his mouth. Skinner thrust into his open mouth for several long minutes and then withdrew without coming. Mulder closed his mouth and settled back with a sigh. This was good! This was better than he could have expected. He praised his Master mentally for his truly perverted imagination in coming up with something this utterly depraved and delicious. He wasn’t sure how much time passed but then he heard Skinner again. He opened his mouth, feeling a bit ridiculous, but this time Skinner walked past him and he was left disappointed. Soon his Master returned and again he opened his mouth, but once more he was ignored, and left, jaw open, like a hungry goldfish. He closed his mouth and bowed his head. He could feel himself fitting into his slavery, like a hand into a glove, being embraced by it, pulling it over him like a second skin. This was beautiful. The silence, the bondage, the intrusion in his ass, being dependent on his Master’s every whim…he loved it. He was a slave, the young prince of the story, waiting to be of service to his Master, waiting, hopefully, to worship his Master’s cock with his mouth. He couldn’t stop concentrating for a second – he was utterly consumed by the knowledge of his slavery, and was on constant tenterhooks knowing he might be called upon to pleasure his Master at any moment. Another noise and Mulder opened his mouth – and this time he was rewarded when Skinner entered him hard. His Master tangled his hands in Mulder’s hair and fucked his mouth for a long time and Mulder opened up and allowed his Master to penetrate deep into his throat, adoring the scent of his Master’s cock, which he often didn’t notice because he was too engrossed in the other senses of sight and touch. The movement of his Master’s cock in his mouth made his ass move on the seat and that made the dildo press inside him, and Mulder felt as if he was lost in his slavery. This was so good…for the first time in a long time he felt himself reaching that beautiful, serene state that came whenever he gave himself up to deep submission.  

 

Skinner made good use of his slave’s mouth for the next few hours. He kept Mulder blindfolded and immobile and used him frequently, never staying long enough to come. Mulder abandoned himself to his slavery, losing himself in it, becoming utterly at one with it. He existed to serve, he was his Master’s slave, and his Master’s pleasure was his sole concern. Every second when his Master was not using him was one he spent in yearning, longing to feel that beautiful velvety cock in his mouth once more, hoping that his Master would soon bless him with his presence again. And then, finally, Skinner returned. Mulder opened his mouth and his Master fucked him harder than ever before, thrusting into him in a way that was almost savage, not allowing his bound, blindfolded slave any control, forcing Mulder to surrender everything which he did – willingly – and he was rewarded when his Master came in his mouth, his salty come sliding down Mulder’s throat, much to his slave’s profound joy.  

 

Mulder wasn’t released immediately after his Master’s climax, and he felt strangely grateful for that. He needed those extra few minutes to savour the taste of his Master’s come in his throat, and to remember the feel of his Master’s cock thrusting into his waiting, willing mouth. He needed time to resurface from the blissed out state he was in, and to slowly come to. Skinner gave him that time, and, after perhaps half an hour or so, Mulder felt himself coming slowly back to life. He moved his shoulders and sighed, and then let out a startled yelp as something whiskery and wet tickled his inner thigh.

 

“Oh shit…Wanda…your timing, as always, is impeccable,” Mulder groaned. He heard his Master give a loud guffaw but Wanda continued her nuzzling, clearly keen to investigate the new seating arrangement in the room, and the strangely bound and naked slave who was occupying it.

 

“OW! Oh, please, Master,” Mulder begged, as Wanda’s whiskers tickled his sensitive inner thigh area unmercifully, and her wet nose nudged perilously close to his genitals. His Master took pity on him and whisked Wanda away, then returned to untie his slave. He went slowly, standing over his slave, his clothes brushing Mulder’s body. He dropped several kisses on his slave’s face as he untied him, and then, slowly, and very carefully, he helped Mulder to stand. Mulder gave a gasp as he was pulled away from the dildo. His ass muscles ached from being distended for so long – something he hadn’t even been aware of when he was in his blissed out state of total serenity. Skinner held him up, supporting him as he stood, and Mulder swayed, disoriented by the blindfold and his return to normal existence after the past few hours of unreality. Skinner pulled him close, and held him gently but tightly while Mulder readjusted and Mulder hung onto his Master, reassured by those big, warm arms, holding him up.

 

“That was good, boy – you did so well,” Skinner murmured lovingly and Mulder felt his heart swell with pride. “I’m very pleased with my boy. He’s brought me a lot of pleasure today,” Skinner whispered, stroking his slave in a proprietary way. “In a moment, I’m going to allow you to see again. I want you to prepare yourself for this, Fox. You’ve spent a long time blindfolded so you need to take your time to get used to being able to see again. I’ve dimmed the lights and I want you to close your eyes while I remove the blindfold.”

 

Mulder nodded, astonished to find himself trembling as Skinner carefully removed the blindfold. The air felt strange on his face, and Mulder felt almost naked without the blindfold.

 

“All right, boy. Open your eyes,” Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed – and was glad that his Master still had his arms around him because everything seemed too bright and intense as his sense of vision was restored to him. He swayed but Skinner kept him upright and, after a few minutes, Mulder felt himself returning to normality.

 

“How was that, little one?” Skinner asked gently, tipping his slave’s chin and dropping a tiny kiss on Mulder’s lips.

 

“Mind-blowing, Master…” Mulder sighed dreamily and rested his chin on Skinner’s shoulder.

 

“I can see that.” Skinner grinned.

 

“I love you, Master,” Mulder murmured, angling his face sideways, somewhat hopefully, for another kiss. He wasn’t disappointed.

 

“I love you too, slave,” Skinner told him solemnly when he released his slave’s face several seconds later.

 

Mulder felt almost profoundly changed by the day’s sensory deprivation. Skinner had succeeded in taking him down and he felt a sense of peace and calm deep inside. He would have been quite happy if his Master had branded him there and then, but Skinner was by nature more cautious than his slave, and he clearly didn’t want to rush things. After dinner, he tied his slave to the foot of his bed as usual, and chuckled when Mulder closed his eyes immediately, completely worn out by the day’s events.

 

“My sleepy pup,” he murmured, tousling Mulder’s hair affectionately. Mulder wished he could stay awake and listen to all the nice things his Master wanted to say about his slave, but he was too tired and fell fast asleep, utterly content with his lot in life.

 

 

 

Skinner continued to wake him with the ‘ Wanda’ command and Mulder found he was now so keyed into his Master’s pleasure and wishes that he obeyed instinctively, even when roused from the deepest sleep. By dint of some hard work, Skinner kept Mulder permanently immersed in his submissive state for the next few days, alternating hard demands on his slave, with impossible heights of sexual arousal – which were never allowed to reach fruition.

 

“I want you to save this – I have something special planned for it,” Skinner told his slave, tapping Mulder’s eager, expectant cock, as his slave moaned and begged for climax. Mulder had never felt happier surrendering his sexual release to his Master. Giving over control of his climax reinforced his own slavery and kept him constantly on edge…and he was full of tingling anticipation for when he would finally be allowed to come. His Master wouldn’t tell him when that would be – he only promised that it would be an experience Mulder would never forget – and it wouldn’t take place until after his slave had been branded.

 

“You’ll never again come as an unbranded slave,” Skinner told Mulder firmly. “Next time I allow you to come you’ll be my branded slave,” and Mulder shivered, aroused, excited and scared by those words all at the same time. “And it’ll be very, very special,” Skinner promised solemnly.

 

Mulder nodded, more than happy to wait in the circumstances.

 

“Just to make sure that you don’t come by mistake…” Skinner held up the plastic cock cage and Mulder submitted to having his genitals firmly constrained within it, effectively preventing him from attaining a full erection. He could pee through the device, but not come – it was frustrating and arousing at one and the same time and Mulder found himself loving the restriction.

 

 

 

Mulder lost track of time over the next few days. He was totally absorbed in the enchanting possibilities of his own submission. He wouldn’t have wanted to spend his entire life in this state, serenely, dreamily at peace with himself, relieved of the responsibility for any aspect of his life, unable to take even the most simple decision about what he would eat and when he would go to bed – but for a short period of time it was incredibly restful, and he could feel his batteries recharging almost tangibly. The days became a blur – sometimes he was bound onto the peg seat again, and at others he was commanded to present himself when his Master used the ‘Wanda’ word on him. They spent hours in the playroom, with Skinner tying his slave into all manner of different positions and playing with his slave’s body at length until Mulder had no resistance to anything his Master did to him – he surrendered everything up to the other man. There were times when his Master left him alone in the Playroom, just facing the window, naked, adorned, but unchained, his ass freshly spanked, gazing out on the world below, lost in thought. Mulder didn’t know where his Master went during those times and didn’t question. He remained in position, at peace, and utterly in thrall to his Master.

 

 

 

The following day, his Master took his slave to the Playroom, made him kneel, and brought out the bullwhip. Mulder stared at the whip, mesmerised by it.

 

“I know you’ve been fascinated by this particular implement for a long time,” Skinner told his slave. Mulder nodded, his throat suddenly dry. “I did once promise you a long session with it – but I also promised that you’d be in the right place mentally to deal with that,” Skinner purred, circling his slave.

 

“You can do whatever you want to me, Master. I’m yours,” Mulder said softly, although his heart still did a little flip. He was scared and exhilarated at the same time. He was fascinated by the bullwhip – he’d only ever received a couple of light taps from it, but he longed to experience it more fully. He had an image of himself as the prince once more, in a cruel, ancient world, where slaves might be whipped with such an implement for their disobedience.

 

“What are you thinking?” Skinner asked, still circling his slave. Mulder told him about the prince and Skinner smiled. “Or maybe the warlord whipped his slave just because he could – because he wanted to show his slave who was Master,” he said in a throaty, sexual tone. Mulder swallowed hard.

 

“Maybe, Master,” he whispered.

 

“I’m not giving you any choices at the moment, slave,” Skinner told him firmly. “You’ll accept it if I choose to whip you with the bullwhip, just as you’ll accept whatever else I do to you. You belong to me, Fox.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder shivered, the words soothing and caressing him.

 

“Prepare yourself, boy,” Skinner ordered, “submissive position – head back, eyes down.” Mulder obeyed and heard his Master go over to the cupboards that ran along the wall and open them. There was some rustling and a few minutes later his Master returned.

 

“All right – you can break position. Eyes up and look at me,” Skinner commanded.

 

Mulder obeyed – and his jaw dropped open. His Master was wearing thigh length black leather boots that accentuated his long legs. He was also wearing a pair of tight black pants and an even tighter sleeveless mesh tee shirt that showed off his bulging biceps to perfection: he was, in short, every inch the warrior warlord come to life. Mulder couldn’t stop himself bending forward and kissing those shining boots reverentially.

 

“Please, Master…” he whispered, not entirely sure what he was even pleading for. Skinner held the bullwhip under his slave’s nose.

 

“Kiss it,” he ordered, and Mulder obeyed, gladly, kissing the whip over and over again. “Good boy.” Skinner shook the whip out and lazily snapped it in Mulder’s direction. It wrapped around Mulder’s body, not hurting, just caressing, the leather soft, supple and deadly against Mulder’s naked flesh. Skinner circled Mulder again, soothing him with the whip, stroking it over his slave’s body until Mulder started to whimper.

 

“Please, Master…” Mulder whispered, utterly fascinated by the snaking black leather as it twirled around his skin, making light contact here and there. Sometimes his Master snapped it sharply on the floor and the sound would make Mulder jump, but then the whip was wrapped around his skin again, comforting, and at the same time full of vicious promise.

 

“Move with it!” Skinner ordered and Mulder found himself dancing to the whip’s tune. He rolled onto his belly and felt the whip caress his shoulders, and then he moved onto his back and the whip tapped lightly at his genitals, and strayed over his nipples. Mulder moaned and opened his legs and the whip intruded between them, the long lash making love to him.

 

“Please, Master…please…” Mulder moaned, almost weeping now.

 

“Please what, slave?” Skinner demanded. “What do you want?”

 

“Please whip me, Master!” Mulder begged, longing to feel the lash on his body, wanting to really dance to its tune, lost in a wild choreography of snaking black leather and his own endorphins.

 

“You want to taste my whip?” Skinner asked, standing over Mulder, stern and demanding.

 

“Yes…please…” Mulder begged.

 

“You want to feel it sear my mark into your skin?”

 

“Yes! Master…please!” Mulder kissed his Master’s boots again, lost in the scene.

 

“Stand up, slave,” Skinner ordered and Mulder did so, trembling. “Go and stand in the centre of the room. I will see if you are worthy to receive my whip’s kisses,” Skinner said in a low growl. Mulder scrambled to obey. He stood in the centre of the room, waiting, shaking in earnest now. His Master looked at him and he felt his nerves begin to steady. “Keep your arms by your sides, and stay perfectly still,” Skinner ordered. Mulder obeyed. “Good.” Skinner grinned, and raised the whip. Mulder closed his eyes, shaking with fear and arousal. A second later he heard a sharp crack and then the whip folded around him and he found his arms pinned to his body. Mulder opened his eyes in alarm to find himself being dragged towards his Master, his entire body in the whip’s bondage, unable to move his arms. Skinner pulled him close, caught him, and kissed his slave firmly on the lips. “Good boy,” he said approvingly. “Again.”

 

Mulder wasn’t sure how many times they played that particular game but he stood in the centre of the room over and over again while his Master practised his skills upon him, always wrapping the whip around his slave, and drawing him back in for a kiss. It didn’t even hurt beyond a slight sting as the whip first wrapped around him and Mulder stopped closing his eyes and instead watched, marvelling at his Master’s skill. Finally Skinner was satisfied.

 

“Now, slave, as you’ve been so good, I think I’ll give you what you want,” Skinner told him. “Your Master will whip you. I’ll take a long time, Fox, and I’ll give you plenty of time to scream and recover between each stroke…but you have no choice as to when this will end, little one. I’ll whip you for as long as it pleases me.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder whispered, utterly engrossed in the scenario. He submitted to having his hands cuffed together, and was dimly aware of his Master wrapping a large belt around his waist to protect his kidneys, and fastening the leather pouch over his genitals to protect them – and that just made him shiver with anticipation all the more. If his Master was taking these precautions he meant business – and Mulder was both thrilled and scared by that fact. He was also aware that this was out of his hands, that he had surrendered himself to his Master, and that he had no choice in what would happen next, and that was a huge relief. It meant he could just relax, give in, and float out into space on whatever high his Master created for him. Skinner led him to the whipping post and hooked his bound wrists into place, making sure that his slave couldn’t free himself. Mulder struggled for a moment, wanting to know that he was well and truly tied, and when he had satisfied himself that he was, and could do nothing about it, he gave into it, relaxing into his bonds. Skinner circled him once more, caressing him with the whip. He grabbed Mulder’s hair, pulled back his slave’s head, and kissed him roughly. Mulder moaned, surrendering himself to the savage caress…then his Master stepped away.  

 

Mulder felt as if he had been abandoned in limbo and the next few seconds seemed to last for an eternity – and then he heard a loud crack and a sharp stinging sensation on his buttock. He gave in to the emotion of the moment and howled, and, true to his word, Skinner let him scream. Only when he had quietened down did the next lash fall on his shoulder blade. His Master started very slowly, giving little licks between the harder ones, taking his time, flicking lazily at his naked, bound slave, or swinging harder, drawing forth a scream from his slave’s lips. And Skinner stopped frequently, and came to stand behind his slave. He caressed Mulder’s sensitised skin lovingly, dropping frequent kisses on it, sucking and nibbling. Often he would lick at a welt he had just made, and Mulder felt so aroused he was relieved that his Master had imprisoned his cock in the plastic chastity device to ensure that he couldn’t come. The bullwhip hurt but only in a stinging way – and his Master wasn’t using anything like his full strength – yet. Somehow Mulder had the feeling this wasn’t a state of affairs that would last. He was right. As Mulder became fully warmed up, the strokes fell harder and faster on his naked, exposed body making him moan and squirm under the lash. Mulder was crying all the time now, transported to an amazing high, the endorphins sending him into the stratosphere as the pain merged with the most astounding pleasure. He saw himself; tied, naked, utterly subject to his Master’s will and whim, completely unable to stop the torment. He was the prince from the story – he had no choice. His Master truly could do anything he wanted with his slave. It was all out of Mulder’s hands. He could only endure.  

 

His Master’s stern voice was with him throughout, calming and comforting him.

 

“You look so beautiful under the lash,” Skinner murmured. “I’ll have to whip you more often. The way your body moves…ah, if only you could see the red lines I’m painting on your white flesh, boy. That’s it, scream…your Master loves hearing you scream…”

 

Mulder obliged, screaming with sheer arousal and need, wanting to feel those little flashing licks landing on his body. He couldn’t predict where they would fall, and they hurt so much, and yet they made him feel so warm and blissful. The strokes grew heavier and faster, with less time between them, and Mulder was lost in the sensation, totally absorbed in it as he writhed and squirmed under his Master’s bullwhip. Finally, after what seemed like a whole day, his Master dropped the pace, and then slowed completely to nothing, and, finally, he came over to his slave and caressed him again. He kept one arm around Mulder as he unhooked his slave from the post and Mulder dropped immediately against him. Skinner deposited him gently on the floor and looked down on him.

 

“Kiss the whip, boy, and thank me,” he ordered.

 

Mulder looked up at his magnificent Master, utterly consumed by love.

 

“Thank you, Master. Thank you!” He whispered as he kissed the leather whip, shivering as he realised that it was warm from tanning his own hide. He kissed it over and over again and then transferred his attention to his Master’s shiny boots. His Master crouched down in front of him, took his slave’s face in his hands, and looked into his eyes. Mulder saw his own reflection in his Master’s irises. His hair was sweaty and dishevelled but his eyes were bright and sparkling with life.

 

“Still with me, boy?” Skinner asked.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder replied dreamily.

 

“Hmmm…well, only just,” Skinner laughed. He disappeared into the bathroom and Mulder heard the sound of the bath filling, then Skinner came back and helped his slave to his feet. He opened the cupboard door and showed Mulder his reflection in the mirror. “Admire your Master’s handiwork, boy,” he ordered and Mulder did just that. His back and buttocks were covered with a myriad of small red welts – he had imagined the damage was so much worse when his Master had been whipping him, but Skinner had, as always, been careful to provide the maximum sensation with the minimum amount of damage.

 

“They’ll last for a few days,” Skinner murmured, fingering the welts, making Mulder shudder and hold onto the big man in order to stay upright. His entire skin felt so sensitive that the least touch set his nerve ends jangling.  

 

Skinner didn’t torment him for too long, and he soon escorted Mulder into the bathroom and helped his slave into the warm bath. Mulder howled out loud as his skin made contact with the water, but his Master was insistent. It didn’t take long for the unpleasant sensation to subside, to be replaced by a feeling of warmth and comfort as he floated happily, caressed by the warm water. He watched, hungrily, as his Master undressed, and then Skinner climbed into the bath with him. He took his slave in his arms, seated Mulder between his legs, and they both lay back with a sigh. Mulder didn’t think he’d ever felt closer to his Master.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured.

 

Skinner chuckled and kissed his slave’s cheek. “You’re welcome, boy,” he replied.

 

Mulder drifted along on the endorphin haze incapable of coherent speech. A few moments later he gazed at his Master again.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered once more.

 

“I know that you’re very grateful,” Skinner grinned, “but hush, boy. Just let yourself come down gently. Here… this might help.” He carefully parted his slave’s buttocks, and eased his hard cock between them. Mulder surrendered, all too willing to being impaled, loving the sensation of his Master’s big cock as it slid inside his hot, tortured, thoroughly whipped skin. Skinner embedded himself fully into his slave’s ass and then held his slave close, his arms wrapped around Mulder’s stomach, his slave’s hot back pressed against his chest. Mulder closed his eyes and laid his head back on his Master’s shoulder, utterly at peace with the world. His Master didn’t thrust inside him – he just held his slave fully seated on his Master’s cock, the two of them, Master and slave, joined, connected, and as one together in the warm, comforting water.

 

 

 

The following evening, Skinner took Mulder completely by surprise by laying out some clothes on the bed.

 

“Get dressed, boy. I’m taking you out,” he said.

 

Mulder stared at his Master, confused. They’d had such a peaceful time alone together in the two apartments that he wasn’t sure he wanted the outside world to intrude. Skinner wasn’t giving him any choice in the matter though.

 

“Get dressed, then come and dress me,” he ordered. “Oh, and you can lose the cock cage.” He undid the plastic cage imprisoning his slave’s cock and threw it on the bed. “But you’re still forbidden to come!” He told his slave, disappearing into the shower.

 

Mulder picked up the clothes that had been laid out for him. They were pretty basic – a pair of black jeans and a black waistcoat – there was no underwear or shirt, so Mulder guessed that they wouldn’t be going anywhere very conventional. His heart began to thump loudly as his mind kicked into gear: Was Skinner taking him somewhere to be branded? Had the time come? And if so, where was he being taken? Not to Murray’s place, surely, with the other top still convalescing. Maybe, Elaine’s house – she could host the branding in her boudoir…and who would be there? Mulder’s heart thumped even faster. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. It was one thing to be completely and utterly his Master’s slave here in the apartment, but he was worried that going out into the world would ruin the haze of submission he was currently in. It might break into the mood, and jar the beautiful bond they had built up between them. Still, he had no choice, so Mulder pushed his fears to the back of his mind and got dressed. Then he went into the shower, and dried his Master as he emerged. Mulder was surprised to see the outfit Skinner intended to wear – it was exactly the same as his own, and that gave Mulder a frisson. He eagerly dressed his Master, and then they surveyed themselves in the mirror; Master and slave, both dressed in plain black jeans and black waistcoats, their well toned biceps and just the hint of pectorals clearly visible. Skinner’s chest was covered in curls of hair, while Mulder’s was smooth – and the beautiful fox tattooed on his Master’s chest seemed to be peering out just over the top of the other man’s waistcoat. There was something incredibly erotic about the sight of the pair of them dressed like this.

 

“We look good, don’t we?” Skinner grinned at his slave.

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder grinned back happily. He was just an inch or two shorter than his Master, but much slighter, and the contrast between them was highlighted by their identical clothes.

 

“Where are we going, Master?” He dared to ask as Skinner began walking towards the door.

 

“You’ll see,” Skinner replied over his shoulder. He picked up the bulging black bag that he’d left in the doorway, slung his arm around his slave, and escorted him out of the apartment.

 

 

 

Skinner drove them to a leather bar just out of town. Mulder knew the place as they drew up – it was the kind of bar where people who weren’t serious players hung out. They were wannabes, people who liked to dress up but who didn’t know much about proper BDSM play. Mulder had frequented the place for only a couple of weeks when he was new to the scene and soon figured out that this wasn’t the right place to meet the really serious players. He glanced at his Master wondering why the Guardian of the House would choose to come here. It was so far removed from the real scene that nobody here would even know who Skinner was! Mulder began to wonder whether that might not be the point. Skinner had clearly chosen to bring him somewhere where neither of them would be recognised, and where there would be no expectations. Mulder grew more and more curious about what his Master’s intentions were.  

 

“By my side, slave,” Skinner said, as they got out of the car, clicking his fingers. “Remember who and what you are.” He squeezed his slave’s nearest butt cheek firmly to remind him and Mulder felt reassured. He was his Master’s slave: here, there and everywhere as Skinner so often quoted to him. The evening, whatever it held, did not have to be an ordeal as long as he remembered that basic fact. Skinner handed his slave the bag and Mulder shouldered it silently, wondering what it contained. 

 

They walked into the bar, and almost immediately there was a noticeable dip in conversation and noise as the men inside checked out the two newcomers. Both Skinner and Mulder were too attractive to go unnoticed, especially in their matching outfits. Mulder wondered if it was obvious which was the Master and which the slave – he felt sure it was. What was noticeable to him was how much confidence they both had in their roles. Mulder knew what was expected of him and he went to find a seat for his Master immediately while Skinner bought the drinks. His Master brought two large glasses of coke back to the table and sat down, while Mulder knelt beside him, placing the bag by his Master’s feet should the big man need it. Their actions were so in sync with each other that they could almost have been choreographed. Skinner sipped his coke for a moment, surveying the crowded room and staring down anyone who looked at his slave for too long, while Mulder knelt in the submissive position, head up, eyes down, and waited for further orders. After a while, his Master clicked his fingers and Mulder looked up, alert to Skinner’s every need. His Master handed him his coke with instructions that he could drink, which Mulder did, gratefully. It was hot, and the floor was dusty.  

 

A few people came over and made conversation but Skinner politely rebuffed them. Mostly people gave them a wide berth though – contenting themselves with many awed looks in the direction of the burly, confident, utterly sure of himself Master and his slender, perfectly trained slave. Mulder loved the way they were being looked at – and he felt sure that his Master was more than a little satisfied with the response as well. A man in tight leather came up to them and surveyed the kneeling Mulder with interest.

 

“Hey, cute boy,” he cooed.

 

Mulder ignored him, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on his Master.

 

“Doesn’t he talk?” The man glanced at Skinner.

 

“No. He’s my slave. He’ll talk only to me,” Skinner replied, sipping his coke.

 

“Your slave?” A sly grin appeared on the other man’s face. “Is he for sale? I’d give you a couple of hundred bucks to have him for an hour.”

 

Mulder’s face betrayed nothing. He kept his gaze fixed steadily on his Master.

 

“He’s not for sale,” Skinner said curtly.

 

“Aw, come on – where’s the fun in that?” The man persisted. Skinner got up very, very slowly, drew himself up to his full height and looked down on the other man.

 

“He’s not for sale,” he repeated. “Not for an hour, not for a day, not for a lifetime – not even for a second.”

 

“Okay, okay.” The stranger held up his hands and glanced around. “I was only asking! I mean for fuck’s sake…you come in here looking like this and you say the boy’s a slave. Who wouldn’t ask for a piece of that ass, huh?” Skinner moved his hand slightly, and the man flinched and backed off. “I’m going!” he said quickly. Skinner waited until he was out of sight before sitting again. He rested his hand reassuringly on Mulder’s head and tousled his hair gently. Mulder trembled. He loved it when his Master was possessive.

 

“Very impressive…got any other moves,” a tall, skinny, mustachioed man asked casually. “Or are you all talk and no play, hmmm? That would make Jack a very dull boy!”

 

Skinner smiled. “I was hoping someone would ask,” he said. He clicked his fingers and Mulder got to his feet immediately. “Is the play area still where I remember it?” Skinner asked, heading for a small side room in a dark corner of the bar from which Mulder could hear the thudding, grunting and wailing sounds of someone on the receiving end of a thorough spanking.

 

“Oh yeah,” the man grinned, “but…” He put a hand on Skinner’s arm and Mulder stepped forward between the stranger and his Master feet warningly. The man hastily removed the hand and Mulder stepped back behind Skinner once more, satisfied that his Master wasn’t being threatened. “I was just gonna say that it’d be a shame to hide you two in that little room. I own this place – so I’m going to clear you a space over there, on that raised area, where everyone can see you. Then we’ll see whether you boys are just for show or not.” It was said politely, but it was definitely a challenge.

 

Skinner raised an amused eyebrow.

 

“That sounds fine,” he said. “Bring me a post – I’ll need something to tie my boy to.”

 

Mulder swallowed nervously, wondering what his Master had planned for him, but Skinner fondled his butt reassuringly, and Mulder’s nerves subsided. Whatever Skinner had planned, it was out of his hands. He belonged to his Master who could do what he liked with his slave, either privately or in public.

 

 

 

The owner of the bar clapped his hands and a couple of bar staff began moving tables. The denizens of the bar started to gather around, clearly expecting some hot action. Skinner climbed the steps to the little raised area now containing just the post and a table and Mulder followed behind. His Master stopped in the middle and began unpacking the bag. Mulder knelt beside him, eyes down, staying calm within his own submission.

 

“Look at me, boy,” Skinner said softly, and Mulder did so. His heart did a flip as he watched his Master unpack a variety of disciplinary implements, some cuffs, and a couple of candles from his bag. He laid them out on the table, one by one, taking his time, talking to Mulder in low tones throughout. It could have been a totally private scene for all the notice Skinner took of the crowd watching them. An eerie hush had fallen over the room but Skinner wasn’t hurried. He took a long time laying out his equipment, and he insisted that Mulder watch him. He seemed unconcerned by the audience and didn’t play to them. Mulder started to relax, tuning out the crowd, focussing instead on his Master’s every move. His heart did another flip as Skinner took out the bullwhip.

 

“Front and centre, boy,” Skinner ordered and Mulder went to stand in the middle of the platform. Skinner raised the bullwhip and Mulder waited…and a few seconds later there was a loud crack, and he found himself wrapped in the whip. There was a gasp from the crowd and a smattering of applause as Skinner pulled him forwards, kissed him, and then snapped his fingers. Mulder sank to the floor without saying a word. “Good boy,” Skinner said soothingly, gently massaging Mulder’s neck with his fingers. “Eyes on me now. Keep them on me throughout.” Mulder nodded and gazed at his Master intently. Skinner ordered him back into the centre of the room and repeated the whip manoeuvre – this time to even more applause as people got into the swing of things.

 

“Very nice,” the bar owner said from his vantage point on the edge of the platform. “But it’s just a trick. Got anything more impressive than that?”

 

Mulder could have sworn he saw Skinner’s mouth turn up at the edges in a wryly amused smile but his Master ignored the other man completely – his attention was fixed solely on his slave, and Mulder’s on his Master.

 

“Here, boy,” Skinner said, and Mulder went to his Master’s side. “Undress,” Skinner ordered, and Mulder felt his throat go dry. “For me,” Skinner added. “Undress for me.”

 

Mulder nodded, never taking his eyes off his Master. He began unbuttoning the waistcoat slowly, teasingly, using all the provocative skills his Master had taught him during their time together. He knew how to put on a good striptease and this was what his Master was asking from him. He finished unbuttoning the waistcoat and let it slide from first one shoulder and then the other. Vaguely, in the distance, he was aware of the room going completely silent, and could feel hundreds of hungry gazes focussed on him, but there was only one gaze he was interested in, and that was the dark-eyed gaze of the man standing in front of him. Mulder twirled the waistcoat on his finger and then dropped it onto the table, before reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans. He moistened his lower lip with his tongue as he worked the zipper down, wriggling his ass, going very slowly. Finally he slid the jeans down his long legs, and turned to present his ass to his Master as he bent over to step out of them. He turned back again fast, so that the watching crowd didn’t get more than a glimpse of his genitals, and then knelt at his Master’s feet, his nose pressed into the other man’s crotch hopefully. He was very aware that he was naked, but it meant nothing to him beyond the fact that he was naked for his Master. The watching crowd almost didn’t exist for him.  

 

Skinner smiled, bent down, and kissed his slave to steady and reassure him, and Mulder nudged up, wanting more, always eager to be caressed by his Master. Skinner drew back, and reached for the cuffs on the table. He clicked his fingers and Mulder held up first one wrist and then the other. Skinner then moved the post into the centre of the platform, before attaching his slave to it. He spent some time fastening Mulder’s cuffs, talking to his slave constantly.

 

“Good boy. I want to play with you now, Fox. Just give yourself up to me. Take everything I do…and stay relaxed. You’ll be fine.”

 

Mulder smiled dreamily and bowed his head. He knew he would be fine. He trusted his Master implicitly. He was more aware of the crowd now, as he was displayed, naked and tied in front of them for their entertainment. He heard his Master go over to the table and a moment later Skinner returned with a small snake whip. He showed it to his slave, and then began tapping him with it, taking his time, building the tension in the room. Mulder surrendered to it, throwing back his head and moving his body rhythmically in time to the light swats. Then it got serious. Skinner snapped his wrist and the whip flashed across his buttocks, drawing a line of fire there. Mulder moaned, seriously aroused. His cock rose in its gold cock ring and Mulder was glad that his Master had removed his chastity device. He knew he should be embarrassed to be displayed, naked and erect in this way, in front of all these strangers, but he wasn’t. A part of him loved it. It was a part he had never had the courage to explore before – another, more timid side of himself always stopped him from enjoying events like this one – he fantasised about them but when he had his own free will he had never had the courage to participate in them, although he had watched often enough and had wanted to so much. Now his Master was demanding this of him so he had no choice – and he was finally able to give in and surrender to the pure pleasure of it, his exhibitionist side titillated by the watchful gazes of all these men. This was more erotic than the pony race had been – or even the slave auction. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on him – and he was also being lovingly whipped by his strong, powerful Master. Mulder felt himself responding to Skinner’s every slight touch, every hard stinging blow of the whip, every murmured order or lovingly given caress. He abandoned himself to his Master and felt a sweet serenity well up inside him. After a while Skinner stopped whipping his slave, and another hush descended over the room as his Master lit a candle. Mulder held very still as his Master came over to him, and showed him the candle. He looked into his Master’s eyes and smiled.

 

“Thank you, Master,” he whispered, nodding slightly. Skinner kissed him, and then began waving the candle over his slave’s naked body. Nothing happened at first, and then Mulder felt the first sting of the hot wax as it landed on his buttocks. He gave a cry and stiffened in his bonds and his Master soothed him with his hands. Another drop of wax, and he writhed, trying to escape from its molten heat but to no avail. His Master soothed him again but a few seconds later more wax descended on his naked body and he cried out loud, throwing his head back, his cock proudly erect in front of him. He could almost feel the audience reaction as they drank in the scene – the quiet, powerful, totally confident Master teasing the most beautiful, erotic responses out of his slave as he played with him. Mulder felt a surge of warmth and wriggled his body excitedly. He was enjoying this! And so, judging by the rapt silence, was their audience.  

 

The wax torture continued for a long time, the droplets falling onto his skin more frequently as Skinner upped the ante and now Mulder was wriggling and squirming the whole time, dimly aware of how this displayed his entire body. Then, finally, it was over. Skinner blew out the candle and his slave hung, exhausted in his bonds.

 

“Good boy,” Skinner came to stand behind him again. “Ass out.”

 

Mulder obeyed and Skinner slid a lubed finger into his slave ass, and just held it there. It was a moment of the most sublime and intimate intensity for slave and Master. The angle at which they were standing made it almost impossible for anyone to see what they were doing – his Master’s large body blocked the view, and Mulder knew this was an act meant for him and him alone. His Master was confirming the bond between them, reminding his slave that this place in Mulder’s body was for him and him alone – as well as, of course, making it clear to Mulder that he had complete mastery over his slave and could enter him whenever he liked, however he liked – that no part of his slave’s body was denied him. Skinner was talking all the time, whispering in his slave’s ear, although Mulder couldn’t really hear what he was saying. He was just aware of that finger lodged deep inside him, keeping him still, and making him sweat. After several long minutes Skinner withdrew his finger and wiped his hand on a cloth. He untied his slave and Mulder slumped against him, wondering if it was over.  

 

Skinner took his slave in his arms and held him against his chest, so that Mulder was facing out to the audience. Skinner displayed his slave’s charms thoroughly to the watching crowd, his hands covering Mulder’s body with the confidence and ease of a Master totally in tune with his willing slave. Mulder leaned back against Skinner’s chest, and his Master grasped his nipples and began squeezing. Mulder gasped, and bucked in his Master’s arms, surrendering to the pain and the pleasure at one and the same time. The audience were a dim blur in front of him, the sea of faces all running into each other, and although Mulder knew they were all watching him, he was just aware of his Master’s hands, claiming his slave’s body. Skinner’s hands were relentless, teasing his cock and balls, pinching his nipples hard then tickling them softly, sliding down over his abdomen, covering, and owning his slave completely and Mulder lay back limply in his Master’s arms, taking it all, giving everything he had to his Master. Skinner’s hand movements slowed, and then he moved his head so that his lips were by Mulder’s ear and said just one word: “Wanda.”

 

Mulder didn’t hesitate. He knew he was in a room full of people, and that this was the most intimate command his Master could give him, but he sank immediately to his knees, his front to the audience, his back to Skinner, and used his hands to open his buttocks so that his Master could use him if he wanted. The audience gazed at the tableau, clearly wondering what was going on, and why the slave was abasing himself in this way, and it was only then that Mulder realised that his Master had cleverly got him into position so that only he would see Mulder’s most private of places. Skinner didn’t make him hold position for long. A few seconds later he slapped his slave’s ass, then pulled Mulder to his feet and kissed him lovingly, signalling that the scene was at an end.  

 

The audience erupted with a wild roar of approval, breaking the spell that had transfixed them since the beginning of the scene. They clapped their hands and stamped their feet but Skinner took no notice of them and, taking his cue from his Master, Mulder ignored them as well. He knelt by his Master’s side as Skinner returned the equipment to the bag, and, at a click of his Master’s fingers he got dressed. He picked up the bag and followed Skinner as he began to walk down the stairs of the raised platform.

 

“Wait!” The bar owner grabbed Skinner’s arm and then released it again as Mulder gave a low growl. “Sorry…but you can’t just leave! That was fantastic. Please – I’ll pay you to do another scene. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was mind blowing!”

 

“Thank you, but we’ve got to go,” Skinner said formally. “The scene is over. We don’t perform for money.”

 

“At least tell us your names!” Someone called.

 

Skinner smiled and shook his head. He clicked his fingers again and Mulder fell into step behind his Master. People parted in front of them as if in awe, and they left the bar without looking back.  

 

They got into the car, and it was then that Mulder noticed that a crowd of people had tumbled out of the bar to watch them go.

 

“You do know that you just created a legend at that bar don’t you?” Mulder said. “You’ll be remembered for all time as the mysterious stranger who came among them and showed them what a really good scene should be like.”

 

“Not just me. You were the other half of that legend, Fox,” Skinner said with a smile. “You were superb tonight, little one. I can’t tell you how proud I was of you. You did everything perfectly – you were the slave I’ve trained you to be and the one you always wanted to be in your heart.”

 

“Thank you, Master.” Mulder smiled back, feeling warm with the praise. For the first time he had obeyed the Wanda command outside of the apartment immediately, without questioning it, and he remembered that his Master had once said that if he ever did that he would finally, truly be his Master’s slave. Mulder sat back in his seat with a dreamy smile, and let his hand rest on his Master’s thigh as the other man drove them home.

 

 

 

It was late by the time they got back, and Mulder helped his Master to undress then removed his own clothing and settled himself down at the foot of the bed, waiting for his Master to fasten his chain for the night. Skinner crouched down beside him, a loving smile on his face. He touched Mulder’s cheek gently.

 

“You know, slave, I think that as a reward for your superb service to me this evening, that you should be allowed to sleep in the bed,” he said softly. Mulder sat up, surprised. He hadn’t even asked, and yet his Master was offering to grant him the one thing he knew that his slave loved – sleeping by his Master’s side, in his Master’s bed.

 

“Thank you,” Mulder whispered, bending his head to kiss his Master’s toes. Skinner allowed the devotion for a few seconds, and then he held out his hand. Mulder took it, eagerly, scrambled to his feet, and slid into the bed. He resolved never, ever to take sleeping in this bed for granted. It was a boon, granted by a loving Master, and Mulder was fully aware of just how great an honour it was. Skinner got in beside him, turned of the lamp, and reached for his slave. Mulder went happily, loving nothing more than to feel his Master’s large arms clasped around him. He wondered whether his Master would use him – Skinner had been very sparing in his use of his slave of late, as they explored the wider aspects of Mulder’s slavery, and Mulder had missed feeling that large cock in his body several times a day. Skinner didn’t use him though, he just nuzzled up to his slave, holding him tight, his hands wandering idly over Mulder’s body, fondling here and there but not enough to be a serious prelude to sex.

 

“I’m very proud of you, Fox,” Skinner said and Mulder was surprised to find that his Master’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “This evening was one of the best of my life. You were so beautiful, your responses so perfectly tuned to me and what I was doing to you, your attention fixed so completely on me. I felt as if I was playing a musical instrument, and each note was clear and perfect. It was the culmination of my years as a top, of what I learned from Andrew, and what I’ve tried to teach you. Thank you, Fox,” he whispered in a husky tone.

 

Mulder turned and faced his Master, overwhelmed by the occasion.

 

“Thank you,” he said. “For showing me how to be what I most wanted to be and then for revealing just how good it can be as well.”

 

Skinner leaned forward a little way in the dark and caught his slave’s mouth with his own, then proceeded to kiss him for so long, and so thoroughly, that Mulder thought he might pass out.

 

Mulder was woken the next day by something warm and wet on his cock. He gave a startled cry of surprise, and then realised his cock was being vigorously sucked by his Master. He relaxed, opening his legs and enjoying the sensation. His Master did occasionally please himself by giving his slave oral sex and Skinner was a maestro at it. Mulder’s sleeping, semi-erect cock soon hardened into a full blown erection and he moaned as his Master lavished attention on it, sucking, deep-throating, and licking until Mulder was on the verge of coming – at which point his Master withdrew. Mulder sighed – much as he longed to come, he knew that was forbidden until after he had been branded. Skinner slid up the bedclothes and surfaced beside his slave.

 

“Thank you, Master,” Mulder said dreamily.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, slave – because I did.” Skinner licked his lips like the cat that got the cream and Mulder laughed. “I wanted you nice and turned on, boy, because there’s something I wish to do to you.”

 

“What, Master?”

 

“I want to make love to you – and I want to take a very long time about it. I thought, as a warm up, that a spanking would be in order.” Skinner threw back the blankets and Mulder felt a waft of cold air on his body. “On your front, slave. Your Master intends to make very good use of you today,” Skinner warned in an ominous tone. Mulder felt a shiver of arousal and it was all he could do to stop his still rampant cock from spasming and coming there and then. He rolled onto his stomach and relaxed, giving himself up to his Master. He still felt on a high from the previous night and it was so easy surrendering himself to his magnificent Master. He could hardly understand why, just a few short days ago, he had found it so difficult. He hoped that Skinner would ride him hard and use him well – he longed to feel his Master’s hard cock inside him, longed to open up his body and be of use to the other man, to devote himself to his Master’s pleasure.

 

Skinner leaned over his slave, and his tongue found a slightly raised welt – a legacy of the previous night’s whipping. Mulder made a little sound in the back of his throat. It always turned him on unbearably when Skinner sucked on the marks he’d placed on his slave’s body. Skinner held him down, although in reality they were now so perfectly attuned to each other that it only took the lightest touch for Mulder to respond to whatever his Master wanted of him. He loved being so in tune with the other man’s needs and orders – it felt so easy, as if they flowed into each other and were a part of each other. Skinner spent a long time sucking on the marks on his slave’s bottom, and then he drew back, and, straddling his slave, he bestowed several light taps on Mulder’s backside. Mulder’s skin was still sensitive from the previous night and he wriggled and writhed, staying still enough to accept his Master’s swats, but moving around enough to give his Master a pleasant view – Mulder knew how much the sight of a squirming ass aroused his Master. Skinner gradually built the spanking to a climax, slapping harder and faster, the palm of his hand flashing up and down. Mulder glanced back over his shoulder and saw that his Master’s hand was almost a blur as he worked on his slave’s exposed butt and Mulder began crying out and wriggling in earnest now, although he couldn’t go anywhere as his legs were firmly pinned down by his Master’s weight. Finally, when he knew his ass had to be glowing a sweetly rosy hue of red, the onslaught stopped. His Master dipped his head and licked the warm flesh like a cat and Mulder mewled like one as well, adoring the attention and starting to get high as the endorphins kicked in. Then his ass cheeks were parted and his Master entered a lubed finger inside his slave. Mulder sighed and opened his legs to facilitate an easier entry and Skinner finger fucked him for a long time, going at a slow, leisurely pace.

 

“You’re my slave – subject to my every whim,” Skinner purred. “I love opening you up for my use – making you nice and stretched so that you can take me, and bring your Master pleasure. Open wider, boy.” He slapped Mulder’s ass and Mulder obliged, opening his legs even more, and pushing back on his Master’s finger. Skinner inserted another, and then a third, and played for a long time, teasing his slave’s prostate, and taking Mulder right to the edge of climax before withdrawing. Finally, he finished playing with this slave, and turned Mulder onto his back.

 

“Move with me, slave. Become one with me,” Skinner invited, opening his arms, and Mulder sat up and wrapped himself around his Master’s body. They kissed for a long time, and then Mulder moved down to suck his Master’s nipples, while Skinner moaned, and stroked his slave’s hair. Mulder pushed his Master back onto the bed, and busied himself sucking and licking the other man’s magnificent body, and then Skinner pulled his slave down on top of him and they rolled over, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing and nuzzling, both of them totally lost in their love making. They moved together, as Skinner had requested, each of them giving of himself totally, and after half an hour or more this, Mulder knew the time was right, and, moving perfectly in sync with his Master, he laid down on the bed, opened his legs wide, and guided his Master’s hard cock into his anus. Skinner flowed into Mulder like a river, easily breaching the ring of muscle, and then sliding home, snug, right up to the hilt, his body rocking in time to that of his slave. Mulder gasped, and clung into his Master’s arms, loving the sensation of that beautiful, warm, hard cock filling him. Skinner dipped down and kissed his slave firmly on the lips, his pulsing cock unmoving inside his slave’s waiting body. Mulder moaned, and offered himself up into that kiss and then, slowly, Skinner began to thrust back and forth. He was true to his word, and went infinitely slowly, never taking his eyes off his slave as he moved within Mulder’s body. Mulder arched his back and felt the sweat pouring off his forehead. He was making strange, animalistic noises in the back of his throat and his every sensation was filled by his Master’s presence. Skinner’s cock in his ass, Skinner’s tongue claiming him in a kiss, or teasing one of his nipples with each slow forward thrust, Skinner’s musky, sexual scent, filling the air around him, Skinner’s voice, murmuring to his slave, Skinner’s burly forearms on either side of Mulder’s torso, bulging as they held his Master up. Skinner was everywhere and everything to him and it was intoxicating. The sex was so slow as to be almost dreamlike. Each lazy, measured thrust stimulated Mulder unbearably and his cock screamed for a release he knew it would not get, and that just aroused him even more. Time stood still, and ceased to have any meaning – there was just a slave and his Master, joined together in a beautiful communion.  

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of slow thrusting, Skinner speeded up the pace, and then, not long after, came deep within his slave’s body and Mulder cried out the climax with his Master, feeling it in tandem with him so closely were they connected. A bright white light flashed behind Mulder’s eyes and he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything, could only feel that large cock still lodged inside him. After what felt like another age, he felt his Master withdraw and could have wept from the loss of that warm, claiming cock. Without it he felt incomplete, and it was all he could do not to go down on his hands and knees and beg Skinner to fill him again. Mulder turned his head towards the window. He wouldn’t have been surprised if night had fallen and they had spent the entire day in that one long marathon love making session, but, to his surprise, it was light outside.

 

“Thank you, Master,” he whispered fervently, as Skinner took him in his arms.

 

“My pleasure, slave,” Skinner replied. They lay there for awhile, recovering, and then Skinner got up and ordered his slave into the bathroom. They took a slow shower together, moving lazily, and Mulder was glad that he didn’t have to wake from the beautiful, hazy, dreamlike state he was in.

 

“Your litany, slave,” Skinner asked, as his slave washed him.

 

“I belong to you, Master. I’m your slave. I exist to serve you. All that I am belongs to you. My body, my heart, my mind, my soul. I love you, Master.” Mulder bent to kiss his Master’s toes and then knelt up and washed his Master’s penis reverentially.

 

“Good boy,” his Master said approvingly, tousling his slave’s wet hair. Mulder got to his feet and Skinner pulled him in for a long, wet kiss, and then he turned off the shower and led his slave out into the bathroom. Mulder knelt and dried his Master, still lost in a blissful haze of serenity. Skinner then ordered him to dry himself, while he dressed in sweats. He returned to the bathroom when Mulder had finished, took hold of Mulder’s face, and looked into his slave’s eyes.

 

“It’s time, my love,” he said softly. It took several seconds for Mulder to even understand what his Master was referring to and then realisation flooded in, but he didn’t feel scared – he just felt absurdly content.

 

“Yes, Master,” he agreed, moving his face forward to meet the other man’s lips. They kissed, and then Skinner drew back, took hold of his slave’s hand, and led him out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and up the stairs to the Playroom. Mulder followed, still lost in a dream. He didn’t even think about what was going to happen – he was just happy to abandon his fate to his Master’s hands and take whatever it pleased his Master to give him. Skinner kept hold of Mulder’s hand all the way up to the 18^th floor apartment, a gesture not of fear that Mulder might draw back, but of companionship, shared experience, and reassurance. Skinner opened the Playroom, and ushered Mulder inside and Mulder went and knelt immediately in the centre of the room in the submissive position without being told.

 

“You can look around, boy,” Skinner said softly, and Mulder did so – and then gave a little gasp. Skinner had clearly gotten up early and decorated the room in preparation. It was warm in here and Mulder could smell the heat of the brazier, which was no longer hidden behind the screen but instead took up centre stage, next to the massage table. The blinds were all drawn, adding to the impression of intimacy, and his Master went around and lit every single candle in the room, making it glow.

 

“Sit on the table,” Skinner ordered and, still in a dream, Mulder obeyed. Skinner caressed the side of his slave’s face. “I’m going to brand you with my mark, little one,” he said softly. Mulder nodded, trembling slightly, not from fear but from the intensity of the situation.

 

“I want you to understand that I’m doing this not to cause you pain, although it will hurt, little one, but because through the fiery pain of branding you will come to bear my mark on your flesh. You can wear it as a badge of honour – if it were painless there would be little pride to be taken from the mark,” Skinner told his slave. “You must go through the ordeal and come out the other side a more worthy slave than before; cleansed, reborn, and more fully your Master’s slave than ever before.”

 

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned into his Master’s hand, Skinner’s words washing over him like rich, warm, molten chocolate – sweet, dark, beguiling and utterly satisfying.

 

“I’m not giving you a choice, Fox,” Skinner told him, as he began to strap his slave down onto the table. “You have no choice. I’m branding you because it will please me to see my mark on your body and to know that you are my branded slave.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder shivered, utterly lost in the moment. Skinner took his time with the straps, fastening them tight and then checking the fastening.

 

“I want you to be on your back although I’ll mark your thigh slightly to the side…here.” Skinner touched the spot. “I want you to look into my eyes throughout – you must look at me during your entire branding, Fox. I don’t want you to close your eyes, or look away. You must keep your attention fixed on me unless I order you otherwise.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder agreed, overawed by the solemnity of the occasion. Skinner finished with the straps and Mulder found himself completely immobile, unable to move so much as a fraction of an inch.  

 

He watched as his Master walked over to the cupboards and drew out a pair of leather trousers. Skinner removed his sweats and slid the trousers up his long, lean legs. Mulder feasted on the sight, and Skinner went slowly, ensuring that his slave got a good view. Then Skinner stripped off his tee shirt, and grabbed a bottle of oil from the cupboard. He came over to his bound slave, and, standing right in front of Mulder, he began to oil his magnificent chest and arms. Mulder watched, transfixed by the eroticism of watching his Master prepare himself for branding his slave. Skinner’s hands rubbed the oil into the tattooed fox on his chest and Mulder felt his heart leap; just as his Master had gone through a painful ordeal to bear a visible token of his love for his slave, so the slave would endure a painful ordeal to do the same for his Master. He had seen the tattoo rarely over the past few days, as Skinner had mostly been dressed when in his presence, or Mulder had been blindfolded. Now he feasted on the sight of it, a tangible reminder of why he was about to undergo this branding.  

 

Skinner finished oiling himself and returned to his slave’s side. He stroked his hand over Mulder’s cock, which sprang eagerly to life, still semi-erect from the morning’s love-making, and easily aroused into full erection both by the scenario and his Master’s attention to it. Then Skinner turned to the little table next to the massage couch, which held a variety of different pots and jars. Skinner opened one of them, took out a cotton ball, doused it in liquid from one of the other pots, and then pressed the cotton ball against Mulder’s thigh, where he would brand him, sterilising the area thoroughly. He took his time, and was firm and masterful but at the same time caressing and loving, a mix that made Mulder relax, his cock still standing stiff and hard in front of him. Skinner finished sterilising the area, and walked towards the brazier. He pulled on a thick glove, picked up the iron that was warming in the fire, examined it intently, and then held it out for his slave to view. Mulder could feel the heat emanating from it and the elegant ‘S‘ glowed white with the intensity of that heat.

 

“My mark. ‘S‘ for Skinner. ‘S‘ for slave,” Skinner told him.

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder remembered the story of the prince and the warlord and found in it a parallel with his own situation. The prince had no choice – his master had branded him because it was his will, and they lived in a time where even if the prince had refused, the warlord would have taken no notice and proceeded anyway. That thought comforted him for some reason. He was a slave who was being prepared to take his Master’s mark. He would be proud to undergo the pain in order to bear that mark. It was his right and his destiny and he longed to fulfil it – and his eager cock told him he was very happy with that destiny. Skinner returned to iron to the fire, and Mulder watched the other man’s oiled muscles ripple as he moved. The waves of heat obscured his Master’s body somewhat, making the big man a large, hazy presence, and Mulder had never felt more impressed by that large, solid chest, and the long, lean legs. His Master was every inch the perfect Master – who would not want to bear the brand of a man such as this? Mulder would welcome it into his body, no matter how much it hurt.

 

“Remember, slave, you can scream all you like – be honest and open in your responses,” Skinner said.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder whispered, beyond any speech save the absolute basics. He gazed at the iron, transfixed, and then back at his Master. Skinner’s dark eyes were fixed on him.

 

“Look at me, boy. I’m going to take the iron out of the fire now, and mark you.”

 

Mulder nodded, his throat dry. He watched, as if in a dream, as his Master withdrew the white hot iron from the fire and then walked slowly, as if in a procession, around his slave to the right side of his slave’s body. Mulder could feel the heat now, coming closer, and closer, and then Skinner came to a halt beside his slave’s body. He held the iron a few centimetres away from the flesh on Mulder’s thigh into which he would sear it, and looked at his slave intently.

 

“Look at me, not the iron,” he commanded and Mulder managed to tear his eyes away from the iron itself and look into his Master’s dark eyes. “What are you?” Skinner asked.

 

“Your slave,” Mulder replied, lost in his Master’s gaze.

 

“Who do you belong to?” Skinner asked.

 

“You!” Mulder replied. “You, Master.”

 

“What can I do to you?”

 

“Whatever you like, Master. My body is yours to do with as you wish.”

 

“Good boy. What I wish to do is to mark your flesh with my iron, to brand you as my slave for all the world to see, and to sear in your mind as much as I sear into your flesh, that you are mine for all time. I want you to look down and see my mark on your body and understand that basic, fundamental truth: you belong to me, boy. You’re mine in times of crisis and in times of pleasure, mine to love, to play with, to enjoy – mine for all time.”

 

Mulder nodded, his throat dry, and his cock still hard, utterly lost in the moment. He was his Master’s slave and he longed to bear his Master’s mark on his skin for all time. He was immobile, surrendered to his Master’s will, and Skinner had never looked more the magnificent Master as he did at this moment in time, with his oiled torso, and the look of love and determination in his eyes.

 

“I’m yours, Master,” Mulder whispered, “please…brand me.”

 

Skinner positioned the iron over his slave’s thigh – Mulder could feel the heat of it and almost passed out just from knowing it was there and that this moment was finally about to happen. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear the wait any more, Skinner moved his arm forward forcefully.  

 

Mulder cried out loud, never taking his eyes from his Master’s face. He could have sworn that the iron was lodged in his flesh for hours – or at least a minute, although later Skinner told him it was only 2 or 3 seconds at the very most. However even that short a time felt like an eternity as the fiery kiss of the iron claimed him and time seemed to slow almost to a standstill. He cried out loud, tried to move, to do anything to dislodge the burning metal from his flesh but he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except scream and gaze into his Master’s eyes and accept his Master’s will. It was those dark eyes that anchored him and reassured him throughout, despite the pain, and he was transfixed by them, relying on that steady, loving gaze to keep him calm. There was an odour of burning flesh, and still that branding iron seemed to be there, sunk deep into his body, claiming him, consuming him, and owning him utterly and completely and Mulder surrendered to it, offering himself up to his Master’s brand.  

 

Then it was gone. His Master replaced the iron in the brazier and returned to his slave’s side but Mulder barely registered that the iron was no longer in his flesh – he was still screaming both from the pain of it and as a release from the sheer intensity of the moment. Skinner stroked his slave’s sweaty face, and kissed him softly, murmuring to him the whole time, and Mulder started to calm down. He knew that his face was streaked with tears and sweat but he was proud beyond belief. He had endured it! He was a marked slave! He looked down, eager to see the mark on his body but his Master blocked his way.

 

“Not yet. Lie back and recover first. Get your breath back. You did well, little one. I’m very proud of you.”

 

Skinner’s dark eyes looked suspiciously glassy, as if he was holding back tears of his own. He smoothed Mulder’s hair out of his eyes, all the time whispering encouragement and endearments to his slave and Mulder smiled happily at the big man. The endorphins started to kick in and Mulder felt as high as a kite. Yes, his thigh still hurt, but he was too high to care. He was dimly aware of Skinner rubbing something lightly onto the new brand and there was a momentary sting, followed by a numbing sensation. Mulder didn’t ask what it was, and nor did he care. He just smiled insanely at his Master, giddy with joy. Skinner returned the smile, his whole face lighting up, utterly overjoyed by the occasion and Mulder knew he wasn’t the only one who had been deeply affected by it. His Master cupped his slave’s face in his hands and they stayed there for a couple of minutes, as one, at rest, both exhilarated by what had passed between them, and what it symbolised.  

 

After about half an hour, Skinner untied his slave, with strict instructions that Mulder should not move. Mulder obeyed, gazing stupidly at his Master.

 

“Okay.” Skinner took hold of Mulder’s hand. “You can look at it now, boy.” Mulder glanced down and fell immediately in love. The brand was perfect. The skin was raw and red and he guessed that it would take some time to heal but the brand itself was so elegant and beautiful – just the kind of mark he would have expected his Master to put on his body, and completely different to the ugly jagged scarring that Krycek had initially left him with, until Perry had cleaned up that wound.

 

“Beautiful.” Skinner traced his fingers over the ‘W’ on his slave’s lower abdomen and then moved his finger over to his slave’s right side. He didn’t touch the brand, just rested his finger next to it the S. “Both my initials printed in your skin for all time,” he whispered.

 

“Oh god. I love it,” Mulder whispered, utterly overwhelmed. “It’s so perfect.”

 

“Good.” Skinner smiled, and rested his forehead briefly against his slave’s. Mulder felt exhilarated by the occasion and filled with an odd energy. “Now, I think I told you that the next time I’d let you come it would be as a branded slave,” Skinner said, his hand going to Mulder’s cock. Mulder felt his penis respond eagerly, as always, to his Master’s touch. He was amazed that he could feel so horny after so much intense pain but he did – he felt utterly alive, as if the heat that had penetrated his skin had gone right the way through into his veins.

 

“So…lie back…” Skinner lowered the massage table and then, as his slave watched, he removed his leather pants, and stood, magnificently naked, before Mulder. “I don’t want you to do anything,” Skinner said. “Just enjoy – let your natural responses happen, whatever they are.”

 

He swung his leg over his slave’s body so he was straddling him, taking care not to let his thigh press against Mulder’s new brand. Then he parted his own buttocks and sank done on Mulder’s hard cock, guiding it into his body. Mulder cried out, completely dazed by the honour his Master was showing him. He so rarely got to serve his Master by giving him anal sex that he appreciated just how big a deal this was. Skinner slid down firmly onto his slave’s hard cock, still in charge even though he was the one being penetrated. He rested his hands on his slave’s body and squeezed his slave’s nipples lightly. “Hmm, this reminds me of another important occasion,” Skinner said, teasing Mulder’s nipples, and then pinching them more firmly. Mulder growled and thrust up, almost overwhelmed by the overload of sensations – being buried in his Master’s warm, tight ass, his burning thigh, and the pain in his nipples. He squirmed and that just excited his cock even more. Skinner was merciless – he slid up and down on Mulder’s cock for a long time, always stopping his motion just before his slave was about to come. He waited until Mulder had stepped back from the edge of climax and then began riding him again. Mulder gazed up at his Master in awe. Skinner’s body was so large, his muscles rippled so beautifully beneath the oiled golden skin and he rode his slave so expertly. Mulder reached out and touched his Master’s tattoo lightly, smiling to himself. Skinner grinned at him, and, leaning forward, deposited a kiss on his slave’s lips. Mulder moaned and opened his mouth, and his Master obliged by pushing his tongue inside. They kissed while Skinner squeezed his ass muscles around his slave’s hard cock, and then he drew back and rode his slave once more, pinching his nipples with each downward slide, until Mulder began to scream out loud and then he was lost in his own ecstasy and a few moments later he came – loudly and violently, thrust deep inside his Master’s body – and, more importantly, he came for the first time as a branded slave.  

 

Skinner stayed where he was, straddling his slave’s body for a long time, and then, finally, he slid off Mulder’s softening cock. Mulder was dimly aware of his Master disappearing into the bathroom and the sound of water splashing and then the big man returned to his exhausted, sated slave and ran a wash cloth over him, taking care not to disturb his newly branded flesh. Finally, while Mulder still recovered, Skinner pulled on his gray sweatpants and white tee-shirt, and, still barefoot, returned to his slave’s side.

 

“Are you back with me now?” He asked, grinning.

 

“Sure,” Mulder replied hazily.

 

“What’s your name?” Skinner demanded.

 

“No idea,” Mulder slurred happily.

 

“Your name is Fox William Mulder, and you are my branded slave,” Skinner told him firmly and Mulder gave a huge, beaming smile.

 

“Oh. Yeah,” he muttered. “I remember that last bit!”

 

“Hold still. I’m going to lift you,” Skinner said. He moved forward, and picked up his slave in his big arms. It never ceased to amaze Mulder how strong his Master was, and he submitted, feeling like a huge bag of jelly, to being picked up, carried out of the Playroom, and along the corridor to the upstairs lounge. Skinner deposited his slave on the couch and Mulder gazed round the room blankly. It was decorated with garlands and tinsel, and, in the corner of the room, next to the roaring log fire, was a huge Christmas tree, with a pile of wrapped presents underneath it.”

 

“Is it…?” Mulder glanced at his Master in surprise.

 

“Yes it is.” Skinner smiled. “Merry Christmas, Fox.” He sat down on the couch beside his slave and pulled Mulder to rest against his chest.

 

“Today?” Mulder had completely lost track of the time.

 

“Today.” Skinner nodded. “The fridge is fully stocked with food. I thought we’d eat later on this afternoon.”

 

“Do I get to sit up to the table?” Mulder asked with a grin.

 

“You certainly do, boy.” Skinner grinned back, giving his slave a big, wet kiss.

 

“When did you do all this?” Mulder asked, astounded, glancing around the room. He noticed Wanda stretched out in front of the fire, seemingly elongated to four times her normal length, looking as utterly blissed out as he felt right now. “And when did you buy all the food?”

 

“During those times when you were standing with your butt on display looking out of the windows in the Playroom,” Skinner told his slave, one arm wrapped around Mulder’s chest and shoulders. “I finished off this morning, while you were still sleeping. I got up early. I wanted this to be a very special day. You were so ready for this, Fox.”

 

“Thanks to you. It’s been such an incredible week,” Mulder whispered. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to live in this level of submission the whole time, but for a vacation, a few day’s break from reality – it’s great.”

 

“I know. I enjoyed it too.” Skinner looked pensive.

 

“It was harder for you – you had to plan it all, and gauge my reactions,” Mulder commented.

 

“Hmmm?” Skinner looked down on his slave. “Oh…yes. That wasn’t always easy. I wanted to make sure that this time it was right for you. I screwed up last time we attempted it and I wasn’t going to have that happen again,” Skinner said firmly. “There were times when I wondered if you were going to go down with me, or keep fighting me, but in the end it worked out just fine.”

 

“That story about the prince and the warlord was amazing, Master. It really helped. Did you just make it up?”

 

“Sort of.” Skinner grinned. “I don’t think I’m that good a storyteller but Andrew insisted I explore erotic scenarios and we used to sit up at night, making up stories that turned us on. That was one of them. I’m so glad you liked it too. It’s always been one of my favourites. I’m glad I could share it with you.”

 

“It was fantastic. I hope you let me make up some horny stories with you at some point, like you did with Andrew,” Mulder requested. “I like the idea of that.”

 

“So do I.” Skinner deposited a kiss on his slave’s forehead.

 

“And the club…maybe we could do that again one day?” Mulder asked.

 

“My little exhibitionist!” Skinner grinned and tickled his slave. “I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure I liked all those men leering at my property.”

 

“Why did you take me there then?”

 

“I needed to see how into your role you were – and how easily you might be jolted out of it. There was no use you being in deep submission if you came out of it the moment I took you near the branding iron. I wanted to ensure that you could stay in the right headspace even under extreme conditions – and you did. In fact you did it remarkably well. I knew then that I could brand you today as I’d hoped to. What about the branding, Fox? Was it everything you wanted it to be?”

 

“Yes, Master. Everything and more,” Mulder said dreamily. He registered the slight note of anxiety in his Master’s voice and looked up. Skinner always seemed so sure of himself, so confident, that these little glimpses into his Master’s soul always took him by surprise. “And you?” He asked, smiling at his Master to ensure the other man realised just how perfect it had been.

 

Skinner smiled back in return. “Yes, Fox. It was so intense, and it was better just being the two of us. I know you wanted me to brand you in front of everyone and I thought you might be disappointed that I changed that to a private scene.”

 

“No, not at all. I didn’t even think about it.” Mulder shook his head vehemently. “I think that it didn’t happen before because it wasn’t the right way for it to happen. It had to be a private moment, just you and me and it wouldn’t have been right if anyone else had been there. I wouldn’t trade the intimacy and intensity of what we just went through for anything. It’s a memory that will stay with me forever – one of the happiest days of my life. Honestly…I couldn’t be any happier, Master.”

 

“Good.” Skinner kissed his slave full on the lips again, and Mulder was pleased to see that his Master’s dark eyes were happy as well – and a little relieved too he thought. “In a moment I’m going to put some aloe on it and then I’ll put a dressing over it to avoid infection,” Skinner told him. “But you can have a few minutes looking at it first. Let me know when you need painkillers – you will soon. You’re on a high right now but it’ll wear off and then the pain will kick in with a vengeance.”

 

Mulder grinned, stupidly, barely able to take his eyes off the brand on his skin. He felt ridiculously high – not just from the pain endorphins, but from the knowledge that he had undergone something this profound. He had walked into the fiery furnace and emerged stronger and more certain than he had been before – and more totally in love with his Master, if that were possible. Skinner had been right – it had to hurt that intensely in order to mean something – and because of that it had been somehow transforming; he felt as if he was new born.  

 

“Okay, we have some presents to unwrap.” Skinner got up and retrieved a pile of presents from under the tree. “Most of these are from me, but there’s one from your geeky friends, and a little something from Mrs. Asher – and Scully and Doggett dropped something by for you the other day when you were in deep submission. Sorry I couldn’t let them see you.” Skinner smiled apologetically. “There’s something from Elaine, and Hammer and Murray sent their usual case of champagne, which I’ll open in a minute. Oh, and Ian and Perry said they’d drop by tomorrow if you’re up to receiving visitors.”

 

“I should think so.” Mulder nodded enthusiastically.

 

“We’ll see. You might come crashing down with a bump but Perry gave me some strict instructions for your aftercare so I think you’ll be all right. I’d also like him to take a look at my handiwork to make sure everything is healing okay.” Skinner sorted through the parcels, found one wrapped in purple paper with a large purple bow and gave a gentle little smile. “And this one is from Tabi,” he said softly.

 

“For me?” Mulder was surprised.

 

“Yeah.” Skinner handed it over to his slave and Mulder gazed at his Master, completely overcome.

 

“Open it.” Skinner nodded.

 

Mulder ripped into it eagerly, and unwrapped a book and something soft, wrapped in tissue paper. The book bore the legend: “UFO’s – Fact, Fantasy, and Myth. By Samantha Skinner.” Inside was an inscription: “To my new big brother, Fox. Happy Christmas! Lots of love, Tabi.“

 

Mulder bit down hard on his lip. He opened the tissue paper and found a cashmere sweater inside, in shade that was a cross between petrol blue and deep sea green. A note fell out: “I thought it would suit you – I loved the colour. Oh, and the book is a stupid thing I wrote a couple of years ago but it seemed appropriate! Hope to see you soon. Tabi.”

 

“We’ll phone her later to thank her,” Skinner said softly, seeing his slave’s reaction. Mulder nodded, unable to speak. “And you can wear the sweater when we eat – I’ll let you get dressed for that…although later on I’ll want you naked again. I want to have something good to feast my eyes on.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder whispered.

 

Skinner sat down on the couch again and pulled his slave onto his lap. Mulder lay there, naked, and at peace with himself and the world. He kept glancing down surreptitiously to see the brand on his thigh and it gave him a thrill each time.

 

“I’m sorry…I did order you a present, Master…but it hasn’t arrived yet. Or at least I don’t think so.” Mulder looked up at his Master. He’d been in such deep submission for the past few days that he wasn’t sure whether the package he had been expecting had been delivered or not. “I’m sorry. I wish I had something to give you today,” he murmured. Skinner laughed, and his hand went down to rest next to Mulder’s brand.

 

“You did, Fox,” he whispered into his slave’s ear. “You already did.”

 

End of The Branding Part 2