24/7 28. Here, There and Everywhere – Part 2

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“What?” Skinner growled into his pillow.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“I’ve never been married,” Mulder mused thoughtfully. “You have. What did you wear then?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Wanda,” Skinner said, suddenly and unexpectedly, in Mulder’s ear.

 

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

 

“Hmm?” He asked, lazily.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Master is both cruel and dastardly,” Mulder sighed.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Oh god.” Mulder’s entire body convulsed in anticipation of such deliciously restrictive torture.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“You won’t lose that key will you, Master?” He said feebly.

 

Skinner laughed. “Don’t worry about that, slave.”

 

“You’ve got a spare set haven’t you?” Mulder fretted.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“It’s…beautiful,” Mulder breathed. “Can I help you dress, Master?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Am I allowed to know what’s in the bag?” He asked.

 

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

 

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

 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “It’s just right.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Mulder took a deep breath. “Somehow I have a feeling I’m not going to like this,” he muttered.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Where’s your damn wheelchair, man?” Murray roared, cutting through Hammer’s polite stuttering.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Has the bride arrived?” Skinner asked.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Ah. I think we know what that means.” Ian grinned.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Mulder and his Master don’t play games,” he explained. “Everything they do is for real,”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“I’m giving my legs a rest.”

 

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

 

“I’m fine,” Skinner replied. “Just pacing myself.”

 

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

 

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

 

“All right, boy. Come here. I’ll let you off your leash for an hour or two.”

 

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

 

“Be good, boy,” he said.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Your behaviour is the matter!” Skinner snapped, his grip on Mulder’s arm tightening.

 

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

 

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

 

“Slut,” Skinner growled. “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to, boy.”

 

“I think Master’s jealous,” Mulder taunted, edging back against the bed.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“You, Master!” He panted.

 

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

 

“Oh shit,” he moaned softly, seriously turned on.

 

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

 

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

 

“Yours!” Mulder panted in reply as Skinner withdrew.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Yes, Master. I know! I know! You own me! I’m yours! Fuck me, Master! Use me!” Mulder gabbled incoherently. “I love you, Master! I love you!”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“For providing the entertainment. That was exhilarating.”

 

“Ah.” Mulder smiled. “Bet you’d begun to think I’d never initiate a scene, huh?”

 

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

 

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

 

“Yeah.” Skinner gave an amused grunt.

 

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

 

“I think I can see it now, Walter,” he murmured.

 

“See what?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Not if it isn’t right for us both,” Skinner replied.

 

“I don’t want anyone else!” Mulder protested. “You’ve got no reason to be jealous.”

 

“I know.” Skinner kissed Mulder’s lips with infinite gentleness and care.

 

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

 

“Yes…but maybe we’ll both want more one day. You might want more freedom and I…”

 

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

 

“I might want more commitment,” Skinner murmured.

 

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

 

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

 

“You have my heart too,” Mulder chided softly.

 

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

 

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

 

“I know,” he whispered.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“It’s okay if you’re too tired,” Mulder said. “We don’t have to.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Hey,” Skinner said groggily.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“What’s next week?” Mulder frowned.

 

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

 

“Shit,” Mulder said, shaking his head.

 

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

 

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

 

“Now, now, boy. You know that…”

 

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

 

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

 

~*~

 

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

 

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

 

“I don’t have a choice,” Mulder replied with a shrug.

 

“You can change your mind.” Skinner’s dark eyes were sombre.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“It’s…” Mulder gazed around the room, lost for words.

 

“Will you be able to work here d’you think?” Skinner asked him. “Will it do?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

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

 

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

 

“Yours!” Mulder panted in reply as Skinner withdrew.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Yes, Master. I know! I know! You own me! I’m yours! Fuck me, Master! Use me!” Mulder gabbled incoherently. “I love you, Master! I love you!”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“For providing the entertainment. That was exhilarating.”

 

“Ah.” Mulder smiled. “Bet you’d begun to think I’d never initiate a scene, huh?”

 

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

 

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

 

“Yeah.” Skinner gave an amused grunt.

 

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

 

“I think I can see it now, Walter,” he murmured.

 

“See what?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Not if it isn’t right for us both,” Skinner replied.

 

“I don’t want anyone else!” Mulder protested. “You’ve got no reason to be jealous.”

 

“I know.” Skinner kissed Mulder’s lips with infinite gentleness and care.

 

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

 

“Yes…but maybe we’ll both want more one day. You might want more freedom and I…”

 

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

 

“I might want more commitment,” Skinner murmured.

 

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

 

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

 

“You have my heart too,” Mulder chided softly.

 

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

 

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

 

“I know,” he whispered.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“It’s okay if you’re too tired,” Mulder said. “We don’t have to.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Hey,” Skinner said groggily.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“What’s next week?” Mulder frowned.

 

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

 

“Shit,” Mulder said, shaking his head.

 

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

 

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

 

“Now, now, boy. You know that…”

 

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

 

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

 

~*~

 

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

 

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

 

“I don’t have a choice,” Mulder replied with a shrug.

 

“You can change your mind.” Skinner’s dark eyes were sombre.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“It’s…” Mulder gazed around the room, lost for words.

 

“Will you be able to work here d’you think?” Skinner asked him. “Will it do?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

They stopped outside the Playroom, and Mulder gave his Master a nervous smile. Skinner didn’t return it – he just glowered at his slave and Mulder glanced at his own bare feet instead, feeling a little shiver of fear course through his body. Skinner opened the Playroom, and pushed his slave inside. The first thing Mulder noticed was that there was a screened off area in one corner of the Playroom. The room was enormous and they’d never used all the space so there was plenty of room to play with. Skinner pushed Mulder over to the screened off area, and then, just as they got tantalisingly close, he stopped his slave, pulled a blindfold out of his pocket, and placed it over Mulder’s eyes. Mulder was now practically screaming in anticipation, wondering what awaited him beyond the screens. Skinner steered him there carefully; Mulder heard a clunk and the sound of a key and his fertile imagination supplied all kinds of scenarios. Skinner guided him forward again, and then, to Mulder’s surprise, pushed him down so that he was sitting on something hard.

 

“You once went looking for something like this in a broom cupboard,” Skinner told his slave, as he undid his handcuffs. “And I told you that if you wanted to play in one this badly, that I’d see what I could do.”

 

“Oh shit. It’s a dungeon?” Mulder asked, his stomach doing a flip.

 

“Yes – a very versatile dungeon,” Skinner replied. “Today we’re going to use it as a prison cell, but another day – who knows? Happy Anniversary, slave.” Skinner whisked the blindfold off Mulder’s head, and Mulder gazed around at his anniversary present with a sense of wonder. He was sitting on a hard, narrow bunk in a small 6 X 6 cell. It was a real cell, surrounded by bars and with a lockable door – there was no way out once locked inside what was barely more than a cage. There was a toilet and basin in one corner, both pretty basic, and a thin blanket on the bed. Apart from that, there was nothing in the cell. However, the screened walls, outside the cell, held their own terrors. They looked as if they had been roughly hewn out of stone, and there were hooks all over them, with shiny new manacles attached, and, taking up one screened wall all of its own, was a cabinet of whips, paddles and canes. Mulder shivered.

 

“This is just a start,” Skinner said. “I ordered a rack too but that’ll take a few weeks to arrive.”

 

“A rack?” Mulder moaned, his mind going into freefall.

 

“You’ll love it,” Skinner hissed into his ear. “Note the lighting – I’ve kept it deliberately low on purpose.” Mulder glanced up at the one, bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling overhead and shivered again. His Master stood behind him, and rubbed his hands over Mulder’s arms. “Scared, boy?” He whispered, his body warming Mulder’s.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder replied.

 

“Good,” Skinner told him and Mulder swallowed hard at the promise inherent in his Master’s low, throaty tones. “Okay, let me tell you how it’s going to be today. This is your prison cell. I’m going to leave you here for awhile to get acclimatised. I might choose to leave you for hours at a time in future – maybe even overnight. It’s not comfortable, but there’s a blanket and some basic amenities.” Skinner gestured with his head at the small basin and toilet in the corner. “For now, I want you to think about how you ended up in here, boy, what you might have done to wind up in prison, what kind of a prisoner you are…and what awaits you at the hands of the other prisoners.”

 

Skinner stepped away, and walked out through the cell door. He clanged it shut behind him, turned the key in the lock, and then left the screened area. Mulder heard his footsteps, and then the light click of the door signalling that his Master had left the Playroom, and that he was alone. He felt the butterflies rise in his stomach again, combined with a wave of total adoration for his Master. Trust Skinner to remember what he’d said about playing in a dungeon, and to go to all this trouble to hand him that fantasy on a plate.

 

Mulder gazed at the manacles hanging from the screen walls outside the cell and shivered, violently. He imagined himself hanging from those manacles, as his Master whipped him with one of the whips in the collection that was arranged so neatly on the other wall. It thrilled, excited and terrified him all at the same time. Today though, Skinner had signalled that they would play a different kind of game. Today, Mulder was a prisoner…what kind of prisoner, he wondered? A tough, seasoned pro? Or someone who’d never been in trouble before? Someone scared, out of his depth, worried about his future and the loss of his freedom…someone not entirely like himself, this time last year, as he contemplated his new life as a slave. He wondered if that had been what his Master intended, but it didn’t matter; Mulder knew this was a feeling he wanted to revisit. He lay on the bunk, gazing at the metal bars of the cage he was confined in, trying to imagine what this would be like for real. He was an innocent, a man who had never been in jail before and had no idea what to expect. He was scared – petrified, and he was all alone in this dark, austere cell. Mulder stroked his swelling cock through his jumpsuit. He was seriously turned on, but he didn’t want to spoil himself for the main event so he satisfied himself with just stoking up the heat a little.

 

Some time passed. Mulder turned onto his side, brought his knees up to his chest, and lay there, listening for noises. How long would he have to wait, he wondered? Hours? Days? Skinner could keep him locked up in here for as long as he wanted. Nobody was expecting him anywhere…it was a terrifying thought, and, even though Mulder knew his Master would never allow him to come to any harm he allowed his imagination free rein as he really got into the role. He gave a jolt of surprise as he heard a door slam, and sat up on the side of his bunk, eager, expectant, and not a little afraid as his Master returned to the dungeon area of the Playroom. Mulder wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but what he saw took his breath away.

 

Skinner was dressed like a prison guard, only he looked a million times sexier than any prison guard Mulder had ever seen in the course of his work. His long legs were encased in a pair of tight, navy blue pants, over which he wore a pair of knee length boots, polished up to such a high shine that you could see your reflection in them. His pants were so tight that you could see the outline of his large, straining penis through the fabric. Mulder took a deep breath, and managed, finally, to drag his gaze away from the other man’s crotch, and take in the rest of his outfit. A pale blue shirt was stretched tautly over his Master’s superb chest and arms; it was as crisp and sharp as the white ones Skinner habitually wore for his real job, but this one was considerably tighter, and the fabric was strained over bulging biceps and tantalisingly toned pecs. The shirt was tucked into the pants, and a neat, black belt covered his waist…hanging from which was a variety of keys that clinked and clanked as Skinner walked. Mulder found the sound arousing for some reason he didn’t understand. Maybe it was the aura of power that those keys gave Skinner; he was the one with the authority to lock and unlock the prison which Mulder inhabited. In this situation, Mulder’s whole life depended on pleasing this man, and he could tell by the way Skinner walked that he was aware of that too. A long, shiny black nightstick also hung from Skinner’s polished belt, and the outfit was completed by a navy blue tie, and, on his head, a dark blue uniform cap. Mulder took a deep breath of surprise as he realised just how incredibly sexy his Master looked in this uniform. He wondered what Skinner had looked like in his Vietnam uniform, but couldn’t imagine his Master as a gangly 18 year old boy. He was about to speak when Skinner unhitched the nightstick from his belt, and ran it along the bars of the cell. It made an appallingly loud noise and Mulder covered his ears with his hands, wincing.

 

“You – the new prisoner,” Skinner said, beckoning, and Mulder realised they were going straight into this, and his cock gave a little leap of anticipation.

 

“Yeah,” he said, standing up and trying to stare the other man down.

 

“SIR!” Skinner barked. “You will address me as SIR at all times. Is that understood, boy?”

 

“Yes…sir,” Mulder said, licking his lips nervously. “But I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m innocent, sir. I haven’t done anything wrong. I shouldn’t be here.”

 

Skinner gave a thoroughly evil smirk. “Yeah, that’s what they all say, son,” he said.

 

“It’s true!” Mulder retorted indignantly.

 

“Son…” Skinner shook his head, sadly. “A word of warning; you’re here for the next five years. Now…you’re a pretty boy…plenty of the other prisoners will be interested in you. You can make it easy for yourself or hard – it’s up to you.”

 

“Wha…what do you mean?” Mulder asked, throwing himself into the role and loving every second of it.

 

“I can take care of you, boy. I’ll look out for you, and I’ll put the word around with the other prisoners to leave you alone…but I’ll want something in return.”

 

“You’re blackmailing me?” Mulder asked incredulously.

 

“No. I’m making you an offer…and the way I see it, it’s an offer you can’t refuse, boy.” Skinner gave another of those evil grins. “Now, you can either be my bitch or you can suck the cock of every guy out there who wants a piece of your ass. Do you understand me now, son?”

 

“You can’t do that!” Mulder replied, feeling his nerves tingling with arousal at the thought of being Skinner’s ‘bitch’.

 

“Sure I can.” Skinner reached for the set of keys hanging from his belt, and Mulder took a step back as he selected a key, placed it in the lock, and turned. Within seconds the big man was in the cell with him, locking the door behind him. “So what’s it gonna be?” Skinner asked, moving in too close, invading Mulder’s personal space. Mulder took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

 

“Go to hell!” He hissed. Skinner shrugged.

 

“You’ll change your mind. When you see just how hard your life will be.” He gave a confident laugh. “And just how hard I can make it for you – beginning right now.” He gave a vicious grin. “Okay, son, it’s time for your strip search. Stand against the bars, legs open.” He grabbed Mulder by the shoulder and propelled him over to the bars. Mulder sagged against them, and a few seconds later he felt his Master’s hand roughly undo his jumpsuit and yank it down to his ankles, despite his feeble protests and an attempt to block the other man’s way with his hands. “You do what you’re ordered, son. This is my prison and you’re in my custody now,” Skinner told him, grabbing Mulder’s wrists and forcing his hands back onto the bars. He stood close, too close, so that Mulder could feel the warmth of his body, and the sharp, crisp folds of his shirt against his back. “Ah, you really are one of the pretty ones. The other guys in here are gonna love you,” Skinner leered. “We have a couple of murderers – they usually like to take their pick of the new meat. I can see them fighting over you. They might pass you back and forth between ’em until one of them wins.”

 

“You’re just trying to scare me,” Mulder hissed.

 

“You should be scared, son. You should be real scared,” Skinner told him. “Now, keep your hands on the bars and your legs apart, or I’ll call an trustee to hold you down while I search you.” He ran his hands over Mulder’s body, stroking lasciviously. “Mmm, nice toned body. Long, lean legs…” Skinner mused as he stroked. Mulder stood there, his entire body tense and trembling as Skinner’s hands went lower. He reached Mulder’s buttocks and cupped them.

 

“Please…” Mulder said throatily.

 

“What’s the matter, son? Don’t tell me you’ve still got your cherry?” Mulder trembled even more violently at that and heard Skinner’s answering laugh from behind him. “Ah, you have. This is good. This is real good. Mmmm…I can’t wait to take that cherry from you, boy. Better me than one of those guys out there – they might cut you up some, rip into you, maybe use a knife…I won’t do that. I’ll get you nice and ready for my hard cock, stretch you a bit, and then I’ll slide into you, nice and easy. You’ll like that, boy. You’ll like feeling my hard cock inside you.”

 

“No, please, sir…I’ve never done anything like this before,” Mulder begged.

 

“You have to learn, son. Someone’s gonna pop that cherry of yours while you’re in here and it might as well be me,” Skinner told him. “Now, hold still while I search you.” Mulder gave a start of surprise as he felt something hard and cold ease between his butt cheeks.

 

“Oh god…please…no,” he whispered weakly, hanging onto the bars of the cell.

 

“This is my nightstick, boy. I’m a similar shape but you’ll find me larger. There…just let it slide a little way in…” Mulder held his breath as the cold, hard nightstick breached the ring of muscle in his anus. “Just slide it in…you’ll thank me for this later, boy. Those guys out there wouldn’t stretch you first – they’d just go straight in, take what they want. There, legs further apart, boy.” Skinner leaned forward, insinuating one large thigh between Mulder’s legs, forcing them further apart, and at the same time he twisted the night stick a little further in. Mulder felt the sweat pouring off his body and realised he was fully erect, and dripping pre-come. “Mmm, I think you like this, son,” Skinner purred warmly into his ear. “I think you want to feel my cock inside this tight little virgin ass. Yes?”

 

“No…I…please, sir…please, don’t…” Mulder whimpered. Skinner pushed the nightstick a little further in and Mulder gave a cry of surprise. It didn’t hurt – it was smaller than Skinner’s cock, but it felt cold, and different, and mainly he was just so totally into the scene that he felt as if he was this innocent, virginal prisoner being violated against his will.

 

“Someone has to get you ready for your new life,” Skinner told him. “You have to be prepared, boy.” He wrapped his arm around Mulder’s torso and impaled him a little bit more on the nightstick. “Just take it, boy…take a bit more…that’s good…I’m just slicking you up, getting you ready…” He slid the nightstick in and out of Mulder’s ass for several minutes, one big arm keeping Mulder in position as he slowly, grindingly, worked the nightstick in and out of Mulder’s anus. Mulder wasn’t sure he could hold back from coming – Skinner hadn’t told him he couldn’t but he wasn’t sure he wanted to just yet. He was enjoying this too much. “Now, it’s me, or I throw you to the guys out there,” Skinner purred. “They don’t look so good and they don’t wash much either…I could assign you to a different cell each night… they’d take you, one after the other. Or, I could put the word around that you’re my bitch and anyone who touches you is dead…you should think about it, boy.”

 

“I’ll do it!” Mulder said desperately.

 

“Say it,” Skinner ordered, still grinding that nightstick in and out.

 

“I’ll be your bitch,” Mulder said, moaning softly.

 

“There’s a good boy. Okay. Let’s see what I’ve bought myself then.” Skinner removed the nightstick, wiped it casually on the remains of Mulder’s prison jumpsuit, and took a step back. “Turn around, boy. Put your hands over your head and stand under the light.”

 

Mulder stepped under the light and put his hands on his head as ordered. He flushed as Skinner walked slowly around him, viewing him from every angle. It didn’t make any difference that this was his Master, who had seen him naked every day for the past year – Mulder was so caught up in the scene that it felt real.

 

“Mmm, nice hair…and as for these lips…” Skinner changed ends with his nightstick and stroked the handle down over Mulder’s nose, ending at his lips. He pushed the handle a little way into Mulder’s mouth and then gave a little sigh. “Yeah. I thought so. Cock sucking lips. You ever sucked a man, son?” He withdrew the handle of his nightstick and waited for his reply.

 

“No, sir,” Mulder whimpered.

 

“That’s another thing I’ll teach you,” Skinner promised. “You want to feel my hard, thick cock in your mouth, boy?”

 

Mulder shook his head. “Please, sir…” he whispered. “No…please don’t make me.”

 

Skinner snapped his nightstick back onto his belt. “I think you need some time to think this through, son,” he said, turning on his heel and striding towards the door. He let himself out, locking the cell door behind him. “You just sit here and think about what those other guys will do to you, son. Then, maybe, you’ll open those cock sucking lips and put them to the use God designed ’em for.” He turned to go, and Mulder threw himself against the bars.

 

“Please!” He cried. “I’ll do it. Show me what you want me to do!”

 

“Aw, you’re all scared. Okay…seeing as you’re so hot to trot…get on your knees, boy. This is one lesson I can teach you right now – and, trust me, I’m gonna make sure you get a damn fine education.”

 

Mulder got down on his knees in front of the bars, so that he was at eye level with his Master’s crotch. Skinner undid his pants, and his hard cock sprang out, stiff and purple with arousal. Mulder gazed at it in anticipation, pleased that the scene was turning his Master on as much as it was turning him on. “Okay, boy, just open your mouth and suck,” Skinner ordered. He put his hands through the bars, grabbed a fistful of Mulder’s hair, and pulled his head forward. Then he pushed his hard cock through the bars, and directed it into Mulder’s mouth. Mulder opened, with feigned reluctance. He was excellent at giving head, having had a year’s daily experience, but in his role, he figured he’d be a little clumsy and not know what to do, so he choked a little and tried to pull back.

 

“You need to relax your throat, son. Just let it slip down easy,” Skinner instructed, nudging his cock back into Mulder’s mouth. “There…oh shit…those lips of yours were made for this, boy. Now, you do a good job and I’ll make sure those other guys don’t get their hands on you. That’s it…that’s good…mmm, suck on it, son…that’s it…take it all the way in…” Skinner pushed his cock more forcefully down Mulder’s throat and Mulder held onto the bars to stay in position. He closed his eyes and imagined viewing this scene from afar. Himself on his knees, naked, hopelessly submissive, sucking desperately at this prison guard’s cock in order to save himself from a much worse fate. It would have made a distressing reality but it was a horny fantasy, and Mulder loved the feel of his Master’s magnificent penis in his mouth, the soft skin covering the hard flesh like velvet stretched over hard stone. “I’m going to come,” Skinner told him, and Mulder could feel the big man’s balls tightening. “And when I do I want you to swallow me down, son. Just swallow…don’t draw back…there’s a good kid. Doesn’t that taste good, huh?” He came in Mulder’s throat, keeping his hold on Mulder’s hair until he was done. Mulder swallowed him down easily, but choked a little just for the sake of the scene.

 

“That was good, son,” Skinner said, releasing his grip on Mulder’s hair. “Now…I’m going to go and do my rounds. When I come back, I’m going to take that cherry of yours. I want you to lie here just thinking about how that’s gonna feel – my hard cock inside your tight ass.”

 

“Please don’t do this to me,” Mulder begged. Skinner grinned and banged his nightstick against the bars of the cell.

 

“Get back on your bunk, son. I’ll be back soon and I’ll want to fuck that virgin ass of yours when I do.” And with that, Skinner walked slowly away, trailing his nightstick noisily against the bars of the cell as he went. Mulder sat back on his heels, feeling completely abuzz with exhilaration. He though this might be one of hottest scenes he’d ever played with his Master, and they’d played a few in the past year.

 

He got up, and threw himself down on his bunk. The thin wool blanket felt scratchy against his skin and his cock was sticking out at a rigid angle. Mulder couldn’t resist. He ran his hand down over his long, hard penis and stroked it. He was aroused, but he didn’t want to come too soon so he pinched himself to cool down, then began jerking himself off again. He did this a few times, until he was at fever pitch, replaying the scene of poor, helpless young man and blackmailing (and yet curiously seductive) prison guard over and over again in his head as he stroked himself until he couldn’t contain himself any more and came over his hand. He lay there, sighing happily to himself, and then heard the door click again. He didn’t know whether he was allowed to come or not, but he didn’t want to hold up the rest of the scene so he ran over to the sink and washed himself off.

 

Skinner appeared behind the screens a few seconds later. “Are you ready to take the next part of your lesson, son?”

 

“Couldn’t I just suck you off again, sir?” Mulder asked in trepidation, playing the young innocent for all he was worth. “It’s just that your cock is so big. I don’t think it’ll fit inside my ass.”

 

“It’ll fit, son. You’ll stretch to meet my size, or I’ll force it a little,” Skinner said, opening the cell door again and then locking it behind him with a rattle of his keys. He came close, reached out a big arm, and pulled Mulder against him. “Mmm, you’re quite the cutie,” he said, pawing Mulder’s naked body. He bent his head and kissed Mulder’s lips, still swollen from the sucking he’d done earlier. “My, you taste good too,” Skinner said when he drew back. “So good I want to do that again, but this time I want you to kiss me back, son – or I know plenty of fellas out there who’ll be happy to just take what they want from you without any preliminaries at all. Understood?”

 

Mulder gave a shy nod, and Skinner went back in for another kiss. This time Mulder kissed him back, and he gave a start of amazement as a buzz of electricity went through him. This was almost like the first time he’d kissed his Master – it was like kissing someone new to be roleplaying to this extent. He felt as if he was a young novice who’d never been kissed by another man, and that Skinner was the tough, seasoned, manipulative guard showing him the ropes. “That’s better,” Skinner said. “And I’m guessing you didn’t find it so bad after all, huh?”

 

“No, sir,” Mulder whispered. “Is that bad of me? I liked it, sir.”

 

Skinner gave a roar of delighted laughter. “I thought you might if we just gave you the right kind of education, boy.” He lowered his head and began sucking Mulder’s earlobe, and then went down to his collar bone. “Keep still, son. I want to enjoy taking your cherry,” Skinner said, as he continued licking and kissing his way down Mulder’s chest. His mouth found a nipple and stayed there, sucking and kissing it, before moving on to nibbling. Mulder gave a little moan as Skinner’s teeth showed they meant business, but he felt completely trapped in the big man’s arms. He had no choice. He was a prisoner and if he didn’t agree to this then something worse would happen. Mulder’s cock was already rock solid again as Skinner moved onto the other nipple. He continued his sucking, biting tormenting caress until Mulder was wriggling and squirming in his arms, and then drew back. “Hmmm…y’know, I think someone couldn’t keep his hands to himself while I was gone. Yeah? I think you jerked yourself off. I can smell it on you.” He sniffed at Mulder’s body. “Yeah…I can definitely smell it,” he said with a lascivious grin.

 

Mulder bit on his lip. “I’m sorry, sir. I was so turned on by having you in my mouth I couldn’t stop myself,” he said.

 

“That’s fine, boy – as long as you remember that you’re my bitch and no other man except me touches you then you can jerk off all you like.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“Of course, I’ll have to give you a whipping each time you do it,” Skinner said with a grin.

 

“What?” Mulder tried to draw back but Skinner had him in a vice-like grip.

 

“Oh yeah – there’s always a price for everything, sonny. You want to jerk off that’s fine, but I’ll whip you for it after.”

 

“No!” Mulder cried, but Skinner had him by the arm and was already unlocking the cell door. He propelled Mulder out of the cell, pushed him up against the wall, and locked his arms in the manacles.

 

“Now…which of my whips shall I use?” Skinner pondered, going over to the rack of whips. “I think this one. It’s got a nice tail and it makes a good sound as it cuts through the air. Hear this, boy?” He raised the whip and flicked it through the air with feline grace. Mulder moaned as it swished by his ear. “Just a little whipping to warm you up, sonny,” Skinner promised him, running a hand over Mulder’s pale bottom. “Just to get a bit of heat into those cheeks and put my mark on you before I fuck this ass.”

 

“Please…no….please!” Mulder begged uselessly, pulling against the manacles, but it was no use – they were locked tight. He buried his head in his arm as he heard the swish of the whip, and a second later a beautiful, stinging lick was stroked lightly across his ass. It wasn’t so hard as to change the mood of the scene, or quell Mulder’s arousal, but it was just hard enough to make it real. Mulder jumped. “Oh god…please…please…” he begged. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

 

“Sure you will. I know boys like you,” Skinner said behind him. “You can’t keep your hands off your dicks…you have to jerk off every few hours or you go out of your mind. Now, like I said, you can jerk off all you like but I’ll whip you for it every time, son. Not because I care but because you’re mine now, and I want you to know it. Only time you can come without being whipped is when I’m in your ass – that should focus you on wanting to keep me happy. You just go ahead and offer me that fine ass of yours any time you want to come, and I’ll take it whenever I feel in the mood.”

 

“Oh god!” Mulder panted, as the big man laid down a couple more strokes on his naked bottom. He tried to think of the true fiendishness of what Skinner had just said and it aroused him beyond belief. He wanted to play it for real because he loved the sexual tension of it so much. Not to be able to come without being whipped…except when his Master was in his ass…maybe he could get Skinner to play that with him for real one day, for a week or two maybe – it was such a hot fantasy. His Master proceeded to lay several more stripes of the whip on his ass, and, glancing over his shoulder, Mulder saw a row of thin red weals on his bottom. He loved it when he was marked! Mulder wriggled in his bonds, feeling a heat rise up inside him. As the whipping continued he felt himself starting to fly, and he was almost sorry when it stopped. His Master came and stood behind him, cupping his glowing buttocks in his hands.

 

“Ow! Please, sir!” Mulder begged. “That hurts so much…” It didn’t – it was a little sore, but Mulder loved the way his skin felt so sensitive from the kiss of the whip. However it turned him on to be this young man who had just had his first whipping and he played up the part. “My ass is on fire, sir. Please don’t whip me again,” he said.

 

“That will depend on you keeping your hands to yourself,” Skinner told him. “Now, I like fucking a warm ass, so I’d be happy if you jerked yourself off a few times a day. I liked whipping your white butt, kid, and I’m going to like fucking it even more.” He squeezed Mulder’s butt cheeks unmercifully, making Mulder cry out, and then reached up and released him from his manacles. “Now, it’s time to take that cherry,” he said, pushing Mulder back into the cell. “Get on the bed on your hands and knees, son.”

 

“Don’t do this to me, sir…let me suck you again but don’t do this,” Mulder begged.

 

“You’ll be fine, son,” Skinner purred, stroking Mulder’s naked shoulders gently. “Now go on – I’m impatient to be inside you, boy.”

 

Mulder went, slowly, feigning fear and reluctance. He took up position on the bed, as ordered, and watched over his shoulder as Skinner released his big cock from his pants again. It was liberally wet with pre-come, proving his Master was as totally into this fantasy as Mulder was.

 

“Heh – see how hard I am for you,” Skinner said huskily. “Now, be a good boy and stay still while I fuck you. This is for your own good…better to have just one cock in this fine ass of yours than to take every cock in this prison – and, trust me, a pretty boy like you would be very popular.” He gave a grim chuckle as he came up close behind Mulder and slowly inserted a finger inside Mulder’s ass. “Yeah, you’re tight…we’ll soon loosen you up though, boy. You’ll learn how to take a man’s hard cock and you’ll learn real good.” Skinner withdrew his finger, and then parted Mulder’s buttocks, and slowly, achingly, inched his cock into Mulder’s ass. Mulder reacted as if it really was the first time he’d ever been fucked. He threw his head back and made a howling sound in the back of his throat. Skinner placed his hands on Mulder’s back and hips, calming him. “There you go, son…just let it ease slowly in…there, that’s a good boy…this is good isn’t it? Mmmm, how does it feel having this big monster inside you…yeah you’re tight…shit that’s good. Work it, boy…that’s right. Put that pretty head of yours back and scream all you like…nobody’s gonna disturb us….”

 

Mulder made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. His Master’s cock felt impossibly big inside him. He’d taken it many times before, but now he was so into the role he really felt that it was too big, he was being stretched so much, he couldn’t take it. He begged and pleaded, but Skinner continued to slide into him, slowly and surely, until he was buried up to the hilt.

 

“Oh god…take it out…take it out…please!” Mulder begged. “It’s so big…I’m gonna tear…”

 

“You’re doing fine, son…just relax,” Skinner purred, stroking Mulder’s back. “There…just get used to how it feels…that’s right…” He adjusted his position a little, making Mulder’s eyes water as his Master’s cock hit his prostate. Then Skinner was still for a little while, and just stroked Mulder’s back, as if calming a wild animal. “There, that’s good…now I’m going to spice things up, son, so get ready…”

 

“Oh shit! Oh! Oh fuck!” Mulder screamed as Skinner started moving his hips slowly backwards and forwards. He thrust in and out of Mulder’s tight passage, bringing him exquisitely close to orgasm each time. “Can I come, sir?” Mulder moaned, tossing his head back and feeling the sweat pour off his forehead and into his hair.

 

“Anytime you want, boy,” Skinner said with a chuckle. He moved his hips faster now, and one big hand went around Mulder’s body and squeezed his cock. Mulder almost bucked off the bunk and out of the cell at the sensation but Skinner had a firm hold on him and before long they’d built up a rhythm as Skinner roughly stroked Mulder’s hard cock in time to his own inward thrusting. “Come for me, son…that’s it…come for me…good boy,” Skinner crooned as he took his own pleasure, and soon Mulder was doing just that, coming over and over again, his brain a mass of white starbursts of pure, intense pleasure. He flopped forward on the bunk, and lay there, panting, for a long time. When he finally came to, he found Skinner sitting on the bunk beside him, stroking his hair gently.

 

“I take it that was as good for you as it was for me?” Skinner said with a grin. Now he was clearly himself again – the curious persona of the guard, gruff and manipulative but also strangely affectionate, was gone.

 

“Oh god yeah,” Mulder sighed. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you…a thousand times, for the best anniversary present ever, Walter.” He turned over, put his head on his Master’s lap, and lay there, gazing up at him. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “This was such a perfect present.”

 

“Yeah.” Skinner stroked his slave’s face softly, and affectionately. “And who knew you were such an innocent! And that that would be such a goddamn turn on! I really enjoyed naïve Fox. That’s a cherry I could take time and time again!” He grinned.

 

“Yes please,” Mulder said with a weary, totally happy smile of contentment. “I can’t believe you remembered what I said about a dungeon, Walter…or that you’d go to all this trouble to give me the fantasy.”

 

“Well, I’ll admit I usually prefer things to be more erotic and less obviously about torture.” Skinner surveyed the manacles and the rack of whips. “But this does set the scene for several fantasy scenarios – and if today’s was anything to judge by, you and I are going to be having some fun in this room, Fox.”

 

Mulder smiled, and reached up and gently touched his Master’s face. “You know…when you were ill, I came up here and I vowed that you and I would play in this room again – and today we did.”

 

Skinner nodded, his jaw tightening. “You did good, Fox. You were exactly what I needed when I was ill. I just wanted you to know – you never made me feel less than the Master, even when I couldn’t walk. You were my rock – someone to lean on, and I won’t ever forget that. You didn’t let me down. Not once. When I needed you, you were there.”

 

“Well, you’ve been there for me all year, through one screw up after another. Bet you never thought, a year ago, that I’d actually turn into someone who could stand beside you when you needed help. I was such a selfish bastard. I remember playing you and sneaking around, delving into your past and digging up whatever I could find, then running off after my own quest and causing havoc along the way. I’m amazed you let me stay this long, frankly.”

 

“Heh. Well, you’re mine – and I took you on willingly, so of course I let you stay. Oh, and I guess I loved you too. Yeah, that might have something to do with it.” Skinner smiled and Mulder reached up, put his hand around the back of his Master’s neck, and pulled the big man’s head down so that he could kiss him.

 

It was, Mulder thought, one of the happiest days of his life. They took a long, shared bath together, and then went downstairs and cooked a meal together too. They didn’t say much – neither of them was feeling very chatty. They just enjoyed being together, at one, both of them feeling mellow and at peace after their explosive and satisfying sex session. They ate the meal they’d prepared, then sat on the couch, Mulder’s head in Skinner’s lap and watched TV for the evening, before retiring to bed.

 

Skinner fell asleep almost immediately, as he usually did, but Mulder lay awake for an hour or so, just watching his Master sleep. He had plans for the next day – Master’s Day. He doubted that he could make it as special for Skinner as his Master had made Slave’s Day for him, but he would damn well try. He intended to give his Master a full massage and shave, and a few sexual services along the way. Mulder smiled and rested his head on his Master’s shoulder. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered, tracing a hand over his Master’s chest, and then he fell asleep, having no idea that, once more, just as it had done a year ago to the day, his life was about to change for ever.

 

~*~

 

Mulder was surprised to find that his Master was already up and dressed when he woke the following morning.

 

“Hey – I was going to give you your wake up call,” he complained, sitting up in bed as Skinner placed a cup of coffee on the nightstand.

 

“I thought I’d make the coffee today instead,” Skinner said softly, sitting down on the bed beside Mulder. “It’s been a long time since I made the morning coffee.”

 

“Well, that’s what you have a slave for,” Mulder grinned. Skinner didn’t return the grin. He looked sombre instead.

 

“Not any more,” he said softly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Here.” Skinner handed him a parcel. Mulder opened it, and found his framed slave’s contract inside.

 

“What’s this?” Mulder asked, with a puzzled frown.

 

“It’s for you. I’m giving it back to you,” Skinner told him, his voice low, and hoarse with emotion. “I’m setting you free.”

 

“What?” Mulder swallowed hard. “What have I done?” He asked. “Did I do something wrong? Why are you doing this?”

 

“Hey – it’s okay.” Skinner reached out and gently brushed Mulder’s hair out of his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be forever – but that’s up to you. It’s your choice.”

 

“Then I choose to be your slave,” Mulder said quickly. Skinner shook his head, a little smile curving his sensuous lips.

 

“No, Fox. This isn’t a decision you can make that quickly. There are some things you have to understand first.” He got up, and stretched his neck, rubbing it wearily. “Fox – I made a vow a year ago. I vowed that I would take you as my slave, and honour my contract to the best of my ability…but I also vowed that I wouldn’t make you stand by the terms of this contract forever. What suited you then might not suit you for the rest of your life…and besides…it wouldn’t be good for both of us to take this relationship for granted, to set it in the stone in which it was first forged, when we might have moved on, and want something else. Something different.”

 

“I don’t want anything different,” Mulder interrupted. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, Master. Yesterday was the happiest day of my life.”

 

Skinner held up his hand to stop the torrent of words. “That’s fine, Fox…and…don’t call me Master. I’ve given you your contract back – you’re free – and I want you to really think about what it is you want for the future. Don’t make any decisions lightly. Think about it.”

 

“Do you want me, Walter?” Mulder asked quietly, because he needed to know. “Or is this a way out for you?”

 

“No.” Skinner shook his head. “You’re my slave, Fox. On one level you’ll always be my slave. I still have my Master’s contract, and I’ll be your Master forever if that’s what you want. Here, there and everywhere – that’s what I said and I meant it, but I knew what I was doing when I took you to be my slave. I knew the responsibility I was taking on and I was happy to take it because I already knew that I loved you. You, on the other hand – you didn’t know anything. You didn’t even know who your Master was going to be! I had to do that, Fox – I had to make it something you couldn’t back out of and run away from if I was going to get around that legendary self destruct button you kept pressing. I had to make it non-negotiable, and provide a cage that was so full of love and damn good sex that you didn’t notice the bars too much – but I knew even then that I had to stop after a year, and give you a real choice. I always intended for this day to happen.”

 

“I don’t need a choice, Walter,” Mulder whispered, shaking his head. “I understand why you feel you have to give me one, but I don’t need it.”

 

Skinner shook his head. “I’m sorry, Fox, but this is my last duty as your Master, and I have to carry it out. There are some things I want to explain, and something I have to give you.” He went over to the closet, opened it, and took out a briefcase which he brought back to the bed. “This is your old life, Fox. It’s all in here,” he said, sitting down on the side of the bed again. He opened the briefcase and handed Mulder a piece of paper. “That’s the lease on your apartment. I sublet it for 10 months. The tenant moved out a couple of weeks ago. Here.” Skinner handed Mulder a bank statement. “I opened a bank account for you. I’ve been paying your salary into it ever since you became my slave. I deducted whatever you bought on your credit card and that’s the balance – it’s quite a tidy sum as you can see.” He gave Mulder a little smile.

 

“You’ve been too generous. What about my food and lodging here?” Mulder said.

 

“You were my slave. My responsibility to feed, clothe and take care of,” Skinner replied. “I wanted to bear that cost. Whatever is in the account is rightfully yours.”

 

“It still seems too generous,” Mulder murmured. “Characteristically so, Walter.”

 

Skinner shrugged, and drew a set of keys out of the briefcase. “Your apartment keys,” he said. “I don’t know what you want to do with it but I felt it was a decision only you could make. You might want to go back there to live.” He handed Mulder the keys and Mulder gazed at them, unsure what he was feeling. He hadn’t set foot inside his apartment at Hegal Place for exactly a year and a day. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back there – and yet, curiously, he thought that for the first time since he had become Skinner’s slave, now he would be able to handle revisiting this particular part of his past.

 

“I never wanted your money,” Skinner explained. “I always intended to keep it safe for you. I thought you must have been wondering about that but…”

 

“Hell, no! Trust me, my mind was occupied elsewhere!” Mulder cut in, with a wry grin.

 

“Well, all the same. I needed to take away your financial independence if I was going to stand any chance of helping you – and you did need help.”

 

“I know. I remember.” Mulder shook his head. “I can still hardly believe that I was so stupid as to give myself in slavery to someone I didn’t know. It could have turned out so badly.”

 

“You were desperate.”

 

“Yeah. Or I was thinking with my dick,” Mulder said ruefully.

 

“No. This wasn’t about sex.” Skinner leaned forward and looked at Mulder. His eyes were warm, understanding and compassionate. “It was rooted in sex, and in your sexuality and your struggle to understand it, but it wasn’t about sex. You’d been through just about every top in Washington DC after all. You’d had enough good sex to last you a lifetime. What you hadn’t found was anything to fill the emptiness inside – and I knew I’d go the same way as every other top you played with if I let you take charge and dictate how our relationship was going to work. That self destruct impulse of yours would have crippled anything we had before we got anywhere. I had to take it out of your control. I had to make you a slave, and not a sub.”

 

“I know. I’ve known this for a long time,” Mulder told him. “So what’s changed now, Walter?”

 

“You have,” Skinner replied with an honesty that took Mulder’s breath away. “You really have, Fox. You’re still you. You’re still wild and crazy and inventive, only now you seem to have found yourself. You don’t seem lost any more. You’re not reeling permanently from one crisis to another. You’re in control of yourself again. I think, maybe, that you even like yourself a little now.”

 

“Because you loved me,” Mulder whispered. “You gave me that, Walter.”

 

“Partly. But partly you found it in yourself. You started to accept yourself, Fox. You accepted you couldn’t save your sister – not now and not back then when she was taken. You accepted that you enjoy being sexually submissive and that there’s nothing wrong with that. I think, maybe, that you’ve also accepted that you won’t always hurt the people you love. I hope so because that’s the last thing you need to do.”

 

Mulder gazed into those dark, brown eyes, uncertainly. “You always did know too much about me, Walter. I feel as if you can see into my soul, and sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.”

 

“You make a fascinating study.” Skinner smiled. “And I’ve loved studying you. I love you. You know that. I’ve loved you for a very long time – far longer than you’ve loved me – and I’m proud of what we’ve done together this past year. I knew it would be tough, and boy, at times it really was, but I wouldn’t change any of it. It was necessary – even all the pain and heartache was necessary.” He rested his hand, gently, on Mulder’s chest, over the scar caused by Krycek carving his initials into Mulder’s skin. “We’ve come a long way,” Skinner murmured.

 

“And now you’re saying it’s over? You want me to go back to my old life? You want me to pick up the pieces as if all this never happened?”

 

“No. Not unless that’s what you want,” Skinner said, with a shake of his head. “I’m offering you your freedom, but I didn’t put that brand on you for nothing. In some way, you’ll always be my slave, and I promise you that I will always be your Master. Only now I’m giving you a choice. Go back, Fox. Revisit that old life. Be sure there’s no part of it you want any more. I’ll still be here. Decide what you want from your future. If you want, you can come back and tell me you want to be my slave for the rest of your life and that will be fine.” Skinner broke off and gave a little smile. “Or, if you want to come back, with some new ideas, a different way to conduct our relationship – that’s fine too. I’m happy to talk about them. Or…if you don’t want to come back at all…” His voice trailed off. “I’m just saying it’s your choice, Fox. It’s for you to decide. I want you, and as far as I’m concerned this is your home. I just built you an office and a dungeon and I sure as hell didn’t do that thinking we’d only get a week and a day’s use out of ’em!” He gave a little laugh. “I’m hoping you’ll come back – but you know the saying. If you love someone…”

 

“Set them free. Yes.” Mulder nodded. “If they come back they’re yours…and if they don’t…”

 

“They were never meant to be,” Skinner finished softly. “So go, Fox. Take as long as you like. I’ll be waiting.” He leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss on Mulder’s lips, and then he got up, and quietly left the room.

 

Mulder sat there, gazing at the remnants of his old life, in a haze. He wasn’t sure what he felt. He knew that if Skinner had set him free a few months ago, before he’d been branded, that he would have felt devastated, but now he just felt…curious. He had never had a chance to say goodbye to his old life. His slavery had happened so quickly, and had been such an impulsive decision. He felt so significantly changed that he wasn’t even sure he remembered his old life in any detail, and he wondered what it would be like to revisit it. He got out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, packed a few belongings, picked up the briefcase, and went down the stairs. Skinner was waiting for him there, Wanda in his arms. He looked strained – and he was stroking Wanda’s ears desperately, as if he needed something to hold onto right now.

 

“Hey,” he said. “You’re going?”

 

“Yes.” Mulder nodded. “You’re right. This is something I have to do. There are some things I need to figure out for myself.”

 

“Yeah.” Skinner nodded. “Take care. You know where I am. If you need me, just call.”

 

“I will.” Mulder nodded again. They stood there, looking at each other awkwardly. “Oh god, this feels so weird, Walter,” Mulder sighed.

 

“Yeah.” Skinner smiled. “You’ll be fine though. Look at you. Look at what you’ve become. You’re smart, strong, and totally in control of yourself and your own destiny. You don’t allow yourself to be swept along by anyone else any more. You don’t throw yourself into the wind hoping that you’ll find answers somewhere along the way. You know the answers – and you know that you find them inside yourself and not anywhere else. I’m proud of you, Fox.”

 

“Thank you,” Mulder whispered. “For everything.” He didn’t trust himself to say a long farewell, so he just leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Skinner’s forehead. He paused and dropped a kiss on Wanda’s head too, and then he opened the door, and left the apartment, a free man once more, for the first time in a year.

 

His own apartment was just how he’d left it. Mulder didn’t know how Skinner had done that, but it was. Mulder opened the door and felt a sea of memories wash over him. He saw himself, taping an X to his window, and working late into the night on his computer. If he turned, he could see himself feeding his fish, or lying on his couch eating pizza and watching bad sci fi movies…and, if he turned again, he caught a glimpse of himself crouching in his own hallway, crying into his hands, lost, desperate and alone. He moved silently through the rooms of his apartment like a ghost. The bedroom seemed small, empty and cold after the warmth of the bedroom he shared with Skinner back at Crystal City, and the kitchen was tiny, although Mulder had to smile as he realised that he did at least know how to cook a fairly decent meal now, which was something he hadn’t been able to do when he left this place. All his furniture was here – his couch, his bed, his closet, his nightstand…and yet why was it that they didn’t seem to belong to him? He had been a slave at Skinner’s apartment – he’d owned nothing – and yet he had felt more at home with all that furniture than he did here, with all this stuff that belonged to him.

 

He sat and turned on the TV, wondering what his future would bring. Did he want this old life back? He had missed his freedom, if he was honest. Having to account to Skinner for the money he spent had always grated, and now he had a chance to be his old self again. He could pick up the pieces easily enough. He was a grown man after all. He didn’t need to be taken care of like a child.

 

Mulder lay back on the couch, easily settling back into an old, familiar position. He had always been wildly independent. Being a slave had been the antithesis of his personality, and it had been hard; there had been times when it had been almost *too* hard to endure. Skinner had been a good, kind and indulgent Master but he had been a Master all the same, and what he said went. Mulder had spent a good deal of the past year on his knees, waiting on his Master, serving him meals or drinks. He had taken his orders and learned not to question them. Skinner’s word had been law, and Mulder had no say in how the apartment they shared was decorated, or what they would do with their free evenings, or where they might like to go on vacation. It was all decided for him, and that had been especially hard. Did he want that for the rest of his life? Was it possible to turn back the clock though? Could he negotiate a new living arrangement with Skinner, and, if he did, wouldn’t it irrevocably change what they had come to cherish so much? Was there even any possibility of him having a future with Skinner if he changed the boundaries? Did their relationship only work when he was the slave and Skinner the Master and, if that was the case, was that what he wanted for the rest of his life?

 

Mulder gazed around the place, wondering what it would be like to live here again, to see Skinner for meals sometimes and occasionally for the big man to stay the night, or for him to go over to Crystal City. He could pursue his work quite easily – more easily alone than as Skinner’s slave – and there would be no need to ask the other man’s permission to follow any lead he wanted. He would be free to do that again, free to take off wherever he wanted without telling anyone. Skinner had seen to it that he had some sizeable savings – he could use those to pursue the Consortium, or to research his book…or to do what the hell he liked. He didn’t have to account to anyone any more. He could go where he liked and do what he liked with the money he had.

 

Mulder pondered all these possibilities for the next few days. He purposefully didn’t call Skinner. He needed to have time, needed to be sure he knew what he was doing and what he wanted. He did as Skinner had suggested – he revisited his old life. It felt strange sleeping in his own bed, and yet, after just a couple of nights it felt as if he’d never been away, as if the past year hadn’t happened at all. He missed his Master’s strong arms though, missed Skinner’s scent, and the warmth of him lying in the bed beside him. He also missed Wanda’s soft fur, her low, rumbling, ever-present purr, and the feel of her warm little body pressed against his as they all three of them slept in a tangle of human-feline limbs.

 

In the daytime, he went through some of the stuff he’d put in storage, placing big boxes of old belongings in the centre of his living room. He worked his way through it slowly, missing Wanda’s enquiring nose pressing against his hand to see what he was doing. He found old photograph albums, showing him and his mother alone together after Sam’s abduction. His father showed up rarely in the photos, although there was one happy family shot of them all together, when Sam had been about 5. He looked into the eyes of his 9 year old self and wished he’d known then what he knew now, wished he could tell him that despite all that would happen to him, it would all, one day, turn out okay.

 

Mulder found his parent’s wedding photos. He’d barely looked at them before – knowing how badly that marriage had turned out, there had been little enough reason to do so. His mother looked happy though – radiantly happy – and his father had a serene little smile on his face. They hadn’t known the future either, or Mulder felt sure that neither of them would be smiling in that picture. He rummaged deeper, and pulled out a little wooden box. Inside were odd items of antique family jewellery. A string of pearls that had belonged to his grandmother, his father’s mother; she’d never got on with his mother, and, as she’d been slowly dying of cancer, she’d pressed the pearls into his hand.

 

“I wanted to give these to Sam,” she told him sadly. “My only granddaughter. Maybe she’ll come back one day – maybe you’ll find her – and if not…you can give them to your wife instead.”

 

Mulder smiled sadly, knowing there wouldn’t be a wife to give them to, and accepting now, as he never had when he’d lived in this apartment before, that he’d never find Samantha and thus be able to give them to the one person to whom they truly belonged. Why hold onto them, he wondered? And that made him think they’d look nice hanging around Tabi’s neck. She had been so fantastic during Skinner’s illness that he wanted to give her something. He found an intricately worked jade brooch in the box, and thought how well that would suit Scully – maybe he could find something for her baby too. It made him happy thinking how well things had worked out for his diminutive partner. She deserved a good, solid, strong man like John Doggett, and soon she’d have the baby she had longed for too. In fact, Mulder realised that many of his friends were happily settled; Elaine had married David, Ian had found Perry. Hell, he’d even watched Donald and Elliott finally get it together after years of unrequited longings.

 

Mulder’s questing fingers came to rest on a very small ring box, and he hesitated, knowing what was inside. Then, finally, he flicked the box open, and gazed at his father’s wedding ring, nestled inside. He remembered this – it was one of the only things his father had left to him in his will. Everything else had gone to his mother, and now Mulder thought he kind of understood why. She’d lost her daughter, and his father hadn’t been a good husband to her in that aftermath of that great loss. His father had clearly figured that his son would always be able to take care of himself financially, but his mother’s health and state of mind were fragile, and he took some responsibility for that. He’d left her his money not to snub his only son, but to ensure that at least she wouldn’t have to worry about her finances, and he must have thought that his son would end up with his inheritance anyway, after his mother died. Still, he’d given his wedding ring to his son – presumably figuring that his ex-wife wouldn’t want to be reminded of how they’d failed at the one thing that had bound them together. Mulder gazed at it hazily, wondering how it would look on Skinner’s finger, wondering how it would feel to place it there. The ring stared at him and he stared back. Was this what he wanted? Mulder thought about it for a moment, and then snapped the box shut. No. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t it at all. Suddenly his future seemed very clear to him, and he knew precisely what he had to do. He put the ring back into the box, and then began, purposefully, to sort through all the boxes. He wouldn’t put them away again this time. He’d only keep the photos, and just a few keepsakes. The rest he’d throw out. This was a time for new beginnings – a time to say farewell to the past, once and for all.

 

~*~

 

Mulder arrived back at Skinner’s apartment on Friday afternoon. It had been less than a week, but it felt like a lifetime since he’d left. The apartment felt cold so he put on the heating, and dumped the bag of groceries he’d bought in the kitchen. He found Wanda sitting on the couch in the living room, and she blinked at him lazily, as if not at all surprised to see him.

 

“Hey. Did you miss me?” He asked, sitting down beside her, and hauling a massive brown bag up onto the couch with him. She gazed at him thoughtfully, as if considering that question, and he grinned. “Always playing hard to get, my inscrutable little mistress, huh? Well, okay. Let’s see you keep that poker face when I show you *this*.” And with that, he emptied the contents of the paper bag all over the couch. Little sparkling balls, and small, pseudo-mice with gaudy coloured feathers for tails fell out, amid a myriad of other cat toys. “This,” Mulder said, holding up a big clockwork fish, “is because you’re obsessed with fish, madam. I thought this might distract you from terrorising those poor guys in my tank.”

 

Her green eyes lit up and she began to studiously examine her booty, but not with too much enthusiasm in case it betrayed a kittenish lack of cool.

 

“Hah!” Mulder said. “You don’t fool me, M’lady. I know you’re itching to play.” He picked up one of the balls and threw it across the room, and Wanda hesitated for only a second before bounding off the couch and running after it. She picked it up in her mouth and came trotting back to him. She stopped a few feet short of him, as was her customary habit, and dropped the ball there. Mulder rolled his eyes. “What really pisses me off is that you know I’ll come and get it and throw it anyway,” he told her with a sigh. “Yeah… I know, what’s the point of having an adoring slave if you don’t make him work a little – and there’s also that need you have to prove who’s mistress, as if any of us were in any doubt.” He got down on his knees, teased the ball out from between her paws, and threw it again, and then lay there, watching her with a stupid grin on his face as she danced and pounced and generally had a great time with his gifts.

 

Skinner returned home a couple of hours later. Mulder was sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting for him. He was surprised that he didn’t feel nervous. He had thought that he would, but he didn’t. This just felt…right. It did feel strange to be seated on the couch wearing clothes in the big man’s presence, when as a slave he had so often been naked, but all the same, it didn’t feel wrong. It just felt different. He was wearing the outfit his Master had bought for him on their first shopping expedition together – a green silk shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, soft navy pants, and a pair of expensive Italian loafers on his feet.

 

“Hey,” he said, as Skinner walked into the living room, making straight for the whisky bottle on the sideboard as he often did after work, for a small shot of his favourite drink.

 

Skinner turned, startled. “I thought it was warm in here…and I can smell something cooking,” he said, sniffing the air.

 

“Yeah. I came back a couple of hours ago.”

 

“And?” Skinner asked, his entire body tense.

 

Mulder smiled. “Relax. We have all evening. I even cooked.”

 

“Hmm.” Skinner remained standing, still as a statue. “So, you won’t tell me your answer now?”

 

“No. You can wait.” Mulder’s smile widened. “After all, I seem to remember someone telling me that anticipation is half the pleasure.”

 

“That guy was an idiot.” Skinner grimaced. “You shouldn’t have listened to him.”

 

“Oh, but I did. He was a good Master. I learned a lot from him,” Mulder said softly. He got up, crossed the room, and pressed a gentle kiss against Skinner’s cheek. “It’s good to see you, Walter,” he said quietly, and then he carefully removed his Master’s coat, with the unobtrusive, elegant flick of his hands that he’d learned from a year’s devotion as this man’s slave.

 

Skinner reached up and stopped his hands. “You don’t have to wait on me,” he growled.

 

“I’m not. It’s just a kindness, a courtesy…a gesture of affection,” Mulder told him softly. “Just the kind of thing you do for someone you love.”

 

Skinner hesitated, unsure what he was being told. “Are you here to stay?” He asked, in a strained voice. Mulder suddenly saw a world of vulnerability in the big man’s dark brown eyes, and he knew it had always been there – he’d just chosen to look away before, and see only the Master, and not the man underneath.

 

“Let’s eat,” he replied, taking Skinner’s hand and leading him over to the dining table. It was laid for two, and Mulder had taken care to light candles, and lay everything so that it looked inviting and romantic. That was something else he’d learned from his Master; that taking the time to prepare something, whether it was yourself, or a meal, or a bath or whatever for someone you cared about wasn’t time wasted. It was another kindness and courtesy, another gesture of affection. Just something you did for someone you love.

 

He held out Skinner’s chair for him, and then served up what he knew to be one of the big man’s favourite meals.

 

“Is this a last supper?” Skinner asked. “You’ve gone to a good deal of trouble.”

 

“No trouble at all,” Mulder replied with a smile. “It’s been an interesting week, Walter.”

 

“For me too.” Skinner rubbed his chin absently, never taking his eyes off Mulder. “You look well. Did you come to a decision?”

 

“Yes.” Mulder nodded. “Forgive me for not calling. I needed some time alone.”

 

“That’s okay.” Skinner waved his hand in the air. “I knew you would. I wasn’t expecting a call. Did it go okay? Are you alright?” There was an anxious expression in his eyes.

 

“I’m not your slave any more. You don’t have to worry about me,” Mulder told him gently.

 

“I do anyway. I always will.” Skinner shrugged. “That’s just the kind of thing you do for people you love.”

 

Mulder smiled at having his own words repeated back to him. “I went through all my old stuff – threw most of it out,” he said. Skinner nodded, those dark eyes of his so watchful. “I thought a lot about the past year – and about what led me to your door…in a manner of speaking anyway.” He shrugged.

 

“Did you come to any conclusions?” Skinner asked.

 

“That you can’t go back,” Mulder said firmly. “You can’t turn back the clock – you can only keep moving forwards.”

 

“I guess so.” Skinner nodded. They finished eating the main course and Skinner sat back with a sigh. He was wearing one of his crisp white shirts and a dark grey suit, with a swirly red and navy tie. He looked as handsome as ever. More so maybe, Mulder thought to himself, because he thought he was seeing the man more clearly than he’d ever seen him before. “The meal was delicious. Thank you, Fox,” Skinner said.

 

“There’s dessert.” Mulder got up and brought a thick chocolate mousse to the table. He sat back down again and dipped his spoon into the dark, rich, creamy whorl. “You look tired,” he said, gazing at the big man keenly. “Are you okay? You haven’t been overdoing it? It’s only been a few weeks since you were ill and you should be taking it easy.”

 

“I’m doing fine.” Skinner shook his head. “You’re not my slave any more, Fox. You don’t have to worry about me.”

 

“Just something you do…” Mulder smiled, knowing he didn’t need to finish the sentence. Skinner finished his mousse and pushed the dish away.

 

“That was superb,” he said with a satisfied sigh. Mulder pushed his own unfinished dessert away too.

 

“Walter,” he began softly. Skinner’s jaw tightened, and Mulder reached out and put his own hand over the other man’s tense one where it rested on the table. “I will always be your slave, in my heart,” Mulder said softly.

 

Skinner nodded, a kind of realisation flooding into his eyes. “But?” he said, in a low, dull tone.

 

“But you deserve more than that,” Mulder told him. “You’ve been so good to me. You put your own needs to one side for this past year to take care of me, to take the time and trouble to figure me out psychologically and emotionally, and to give me what I need. For a long time I wasn’t worthy of that. When I think back…I once asked you for permission to love you, and you gave it – but I think you knew, and it must have been hard to live with, that I was falling in love with the Master and not the man. Kind of like the difference between loving Superman and not Clark Kent,” he said, with a wry grin.

 

“How could I not expect you to fall in love with the Master?” Skinner replied. “He was what I was handing to you on a plate, and he was what you’d been searching for so desperately that you were prepared to sell yourself into slavery with a stranger to find him.”

 

“I know. And I know why you gave me the fantasy as well. I wasn’t ready for anything else. For the first few months I barely saw the man, hardly understood who was behind the fantasy. There are many things I regret, but that is the one I regret most,” Mulder told him honestly. “You must have wondered if I even had the capacity to truly love anything but the reflection of what I most desired. You must have wondered if I had a single unselfish bone in my body.”

 

“I didn’t view you like that,” Skinner interrupted him. “I knew what you were and I knew how you’d been damaged. I wanted to help. I wanted to love you – I just had to find a way of making you let me.”

 

“And you sure as hell did,” Mulder chuckled. “Walter…I’ll always be your slave in my heart…but, like I said, you deserve something more.”

 

“You’re leaving?” Skinner asked, those dark eyes of his sad but resigned. Mulder thought of all the people the big man had lost – first his wife, then Andrew Linker, and now his slave, and his heart ached. He had been so preoccupied with the losses in his own life that for a long time it had passed him by how much Skinner had suffered too. Mulder reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. He leaned across the table, and placed it in front of the big man.

 

“No. I’d like to stay. If you’ll have me,” he whispered. “I’ll always be your slave, Walter, but I’d like to be that something more too. I’d like to be your lover, your friend, your soulmate and your life partner too. If you’ll have me.”

 

Skinner stared at him wordlessly, and then reached out and opened the box. He gazed at the thick, solid, antique gold wedding ring lying inside for a long time, still speechless. Mulder found himself filling the silence.

 

“I found my father’s old wedding ring and I thought of giving you that, but it wasn’t right, Walter. He and my mother had such a sad marriage, and I didn’t want any of that mojo hanging over us. I intend this to be forever, and I hope you feel the same way too. I also wanted to choose a ring – to buy one, and have it mean something. I looked at a few – but I settled on this. It seemed like you. It’s got a nice feel to it. It’s solid and classy, and it felt good in my hand. I thought it would suit you. I had it engraved…” He pointed to the inner rim of the ring, and Skinner turned it up and held it just over the candle so that he could see what it said.

 

“Here, there and everywhere,” he read out loud.

 

“Yeah. I thought that kind of summed it up,” Mulder said. “It’s kind of our theme after all, and it can mean what it always did – and something new too.” He got down on his knees in front of Skinner, and it felt different to the countless times he’d knelt in this position before. “Will you have me, Walter?” He asked, taking the ring from the big man’s hand and holding it over Skinner’s ring finger. “Here, there and everywhere, as it says, and not just as your slave. As your lover, friend, soulmate and life partner?” 

 

Skinner gazed down on his slave, and Mulder thought that the other man’s eyes were a little glassy.

 

“Are you sure this is what you want, Fox?” Skinner asked softly.

 

“Absolutely,” Mulder replied with a firm nod. “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time, Walter. Your illness brought home to me just how much I love you – and I mean you, Walter, and not just the Master. I realised how much more we could be to each other – how much more we’d already become.”

 

“You gave up the X Files for me,” Skinner murmured.

 

“I love you more than I loved them. In the end, it was a simple enough decision to make.” Mulder shrugged.

 

Skinner glanced back at the ring again. “Here, there and everywhere,” he quoted softly. “This is pretty much all I ever wanted, Fox.”

 

“So you’ll have me?” Mulder held his breath. Skinner gave a slow smile that lit his entire face, making him look almost unrecognisable.

 

“I’d be delighted,” he replied.

 

Mulder gave an insanely happy smile in return, and then carefully pushed the ring into place. It fitted perfectly, which he took to be a good omen for their future life together.

 

“With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship,” he murmured. He’d said it before, a little over a year ago, but he’d been joking with the words then to deflect how awkward he’d felt in that situation. This time he meant it, and he wasn’t embarrassed to say it either. He noticed that Skinner’s entire body had relaxed, and the other man’s dark eyes were glowing. Mulder picked up his lover’s hand and kissed the ring and his finger – he remembered Skinner doing this to him, in the elevator, the night he’d first taken him as his slave, and how much his Master’s sincerity had affected him. He hadn’t realised then how big a deal it was for Skinner to have put that ring on his finger. At the time it had just been a symbol of ownership for him – he hadn’t known that Skinner had meant it for real. Now he knew what his lover must have felt like. He could see that Skinner remembered too, because the big man reached down, took Mulder’s face in his hands, and dipped his head to bestow a loving kiss on his lips. Mulder could feel his lover’s hard thighs under his hands, as he lifted his head to receive that kiss, opening his lips to savour the taste of their first kiss, not as Master and slave, but as lovers. It felt good. The candelight was flickering gently, bathing them both in its warm glow, and Mulder felt as if everything was right in his world. It had taken him a long time to reach this place in his heart, but, now he was here, he wondered how on earth it had taken him so long.

 

“I’m not sure how this plays out. I guess we can talk about that,” Mulder said when the kiss ended. “I’m still, you know…sexually submissive.” He grinned. “And being your slave is still the hottest thing I know. Period.”

 

“I’m pretty attached to being your Master too,” Skinner replied with a grin, stroking his lover’s hair.

 

“I’m thinking we could make up some new rules as we go along,” Mulder said. “We have the rest of our lives to figure ’em out after all.” He stood up, and held out his hands to his lover. Skinner took them, and Mulder pulled him to his feet. “I was also thinking that it would be a good idea to continue this conversation in the bedroom,” he added, with a cheeky grin. Skinner laughed, and Mulder blew out the candles, and, still holding one of his lover’s hands, drew Skinner out of the door, and up towards the bedroom.

 

Mulder had prepared the bedroom too. He turned on the disc he had placed in the stereo earlier, and then returned to where his Master was standing, gazing at the shrine Mulder had made on one of the nightstands of their two framed contracts, surrounded by lit candles.

 

“I don’t want to ever put these contracts in storage, Walter,” Mulder said, putting his arms around his lover, and drawing him close as the music began to softly play. “They’re how it all began – and I think they’ll be our touchstone in the years to come. When I need taking down, I know I can rely on you to do that. And when you need the worshipful attention of your adoring, naked slave – well, you know you can rely on me for that too. Also…there are all the little rituals we’ve built up. The confessional position, the grace position, the inspections, the Wanda command…” He paused and glanced at his Master with a mischievous glint in his eye, knowing how much they both loved that particular command. “The wake up call, the morning spankings, the marking…I’ve loved all of it, and I don’t want to lose it.”

 

“You won’t,” Skinner said huskily, lacing his arms around Mulder’s waist and pulling him close, nuzzling at his hair. “We can work them all into our new life together.”

 

“I was hoping you’d say that, Walter,” Mulder sighed, laying his head on Skinner’s shoulder.

 

 

 

“Hey…it sounds like they’re playing our song,” Skinner murmured. Mulder grinned.

 

“I asked Mark to make a recording of his version of Here, There and Everywhere – the way he sang it for you at Murray’s party last year. It’s definitely our song.”

 

He nuzzled his face in for a kiss, and his lover happily obliged. “You weren’t nearly this romantic when you were my slave,” Skinner commented. “I’ll have to set you free more often.”

 

“I learned how to be romantic from you. It didn’t come easily. I had to pull out the really big guns for this evening though – I wanted it to be special,” Mulder said, swaying contentedly against his lover’s shoulder as they danced. “There’s something else I’d like to do – to mark the occasion?” He said, feeling a little nervous.

 

“Mmm?” Skinner glanced at him, his big hands stroking loving patterns on Mulder’s back.

 

“I’d like to make love to you, Walter. To make love to *you*, Walter, not my Master, but my lover,” Mulder asked quietly. Skinner gazed at him for a moment, and his dark eyes glowed in the candlelight.

 

“I’d love that, Fox,” he said, quietly and sincerely, and Mulder had the feeling that this was something for which his lover had been waiting for a very long time.

 

Mulder started to undress Skinner slowly, gently, lovingly as they danced. He tangled his fingers in the big man’s tie, stripped it away from his collar, and let it fall to the floor. Then he sensuously began to unbutton his lover’s shirt, slow button by slow button. His fingers dipped beneath the cool, cotton fabric, to find his lover’s chest beneath, covered in its fine layer of light curls. He pulled the shirt off Skinner’s shoulders, and then nestled back in again. He liked the feel of Skinner’s bare flesh against his own silk shirt; Skinner felt so warm and solid. Mulder dipped his head and began licking his lover’s nipples, and Skinner sighed, and threw back his head. His nipples were sensitive, something that it had taken Mulder several months to discover, and now he had the heady sensation of realising that there was no part of his lover’s body that he couldn’t touch and make love to. He didn’t have to ask permission any more – Skinner was his, he belonged to him, in a way that transcended any Master/slave contract. Mulder reached for his lover’s pants and undid them, then slid them down Skinner’s muscular thighs, along with the big man’s briefs, to reveal his lover’s hard, erect penis.

 

“Mmmm…” Mulder sank slowly down to his knees, and took that beautiful penis in his mouth. His lover gave a deep sigh of satisfaction as Mulder tongued it, but after a few minutes, Skinner pulled Mulder up, and went down on his own knees. He opened Mulder’s pants, and took Mulder’s own hard cock in his mouth. It should have felt strange, his old Master on his knees sucking off his former slave, but it didn’t. It just felt very natural, and very right. Skinner sucked on him for a little while, and then came back up again. Mulder gently guided him to the bed, pushed him down on it, and then slowly removed his own clothes, gazing down on his lover all the time as he did so. Skinner looked magnificent lying there, his large thighs outstretched and waiting, his deliciously edible golden skin glowing in the candlelight. Mulder finished divesting himself of his clothes, and slid onto the bed beside his lover. He covered Skinner’s large, tanned body with his own more slender, pale one, delighting in the sensation of flesh against flesh. Mulder gently pressed his lips to Skinner’s tattoo, and his lover, just as gently, touched his own lips against the brand on Mulder’s thigh.

 

Their bodies moved as one together, rising and falling, each coaxing the other to greater heights of arousal. They knew each other so well, knew each other’s bodies so intimately, and yet, Mulder thought, there was always something new to discover. They were making love, after all, for the first time as lovers, and not Master and slave, and it felt breathtakingly beautiful. There had been a time when Mulder had wondered whether he could enjoy vanilla sex; he had wondered whether he needed submission in order to get off, but Skinner had taught him, as he had taught him so much else, that with the right person vanilla sex could be just as satisfying.

 

Mulder took the lube he’d left on the nightstand, and knelt between his lover’s legs. Skinner opened up further, gazing at Mulder with a look of total trust and contentment in his eyes. Mulder lubed his fingers and gently inserted one into his lover’s anus. Skinner sighed and stretched those long legs of his, making a little gurgling sound of arousal in the back of his throat. Mulder took a long time stretching the big man, enjoying the little noises Skinner made, and then, finally, he lubed his own cock, and nudged it against Skinner’s entrance. He gazed down at his lover and then slowly, carefully, slid inside him. His lover welcomed him in, and soon Mulder found himself buried up to the hilt inside the big man’s tight flesh. He looked down into Skinner’s dark eyes and smiled, and his lover smiled back at him. Skinner reached out a hand to gently caress the side of Mulder’s face, and Mulder caught a flash of gold as his lover’s ring caught the candlelight. A starburst of happiness exploded in Mulder’s heart and he paused, shocked by it.

 

“You okay?” Skinner asked, still stroking Mulder’s cheek.

 

“I…yes…I just…everything just went whitehot and spangly. Is this how you felt when you first made love to me?” Mulder asked, still stunned.

 

Skinner chuckled. “That’s how I felt every time I made love to you, Fox. That’s how I’m feeling right now,” he said. Mulder locked eyes with him, savouring the moment, and then started to slide in and out of his lover’s anus. It wasn’t a night for wild, rough, passionate sex. Tonight was about long, slow, gentle loving. They moved together, in perfect rhythm, Mulder’s hand on Skinner’s cock, his own buried deep inside his lover, and when they came, it felt as if the sun, moon and stars had all exploded at once. Mulder rested there awhile, still buried deep inside his lover, and then he rolled off him, lay down beside him, and took him in his arms.

 

They made love over and over again throughout that night, each taking turns to be on top, until Mulder didn’t think he could rise to the occasion one more time, and yet whenever Skinner touched him his cock responded anyway, even when he felt he was totally spent. At some time, around dawn, they both fell into a sated, exhausted doze, arms wrapped around each other, bodies entwined.

 

Mulder guessed that Skinner thought he was asleep, because his lover moved his hand into the light cast by a chink in the drapes, and gazed at the new ring on his finger, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

 

“Here, there, and everywhere,” Skinner quoted softly to himself, under his breath. Mulder smiled, and buried his face into Skinner’s broad back, aware that he’d seen a rare glimpse into his lover’s heart. There was a little ‘whoomph’ sound and Wanda appeared on the bed beside them. Mulder shifted slightly so that she could get under the sheets next to them, and she took up her customary position, purring away happily to herself.

 

Mulder closed his eyes. His arms were wrapped loosely around his lover’s body, and he could feel Skinner’s warm skin against his, and smell his lover’s heady, earthy scent. He felt totally at peace, as if his whole life had been leading up to this moment. He knew that on some level he would always be Skinner’s slave, just as Skinner would always be his Master, and he knew also, that they were both happy with that. It was what they were in their hearts, along with a whole lot else beside.

 

And this was where it all ended, and where it all began, with Master and slave, entwined in each other’s arms as lovers, living happily ever after.

 

The End