27/7 4. A Marked Man


Mulder heard the alarm clock beep, and rolled over, ignoring it. The beeping didn’t go away, so, with a sigh, he turned back, and opened his eyes…then sat up straight, suddenly remembering where he was, and, more importantly, what he was, and to whom.


The clock told him it was 8.30, and Mulder was amazed that he had slept so well. Usually his nights were trials of insomnia, which was partly why he slept on the couch – at least that way he could flick through the TV when he couldn’t get back to sleep. Of course, his unusually long slumber could probably be explained by the fact that he had been exhausted by the events of the previous day. Mulder felt a thrill deep in his stomach as he remembered everything that had happened to him over the past 24 hours. The gold rings, nearly passing out on finding that Skinner was his new owner, being brought here, that fantasy Playroom down the corridor, kneeling naked before his Master, being caressed by him, fondled by him…kissed by him. Mulder didn’t usually kiss his tops, nor did he expect them to kiss him. This was different though – this was someone who had known him for years, unlike the usual ships that pass in the night scenario that had been the more usual pattern of his sexual relationships. This was…this was more like it had been with Phoebe. Mulder bit down on his lip. That had ended badly – would the same problems occur this time, in this…could he honestly call it a relationship?


Mulder got up, and noticed that the butt plug had fallen out in the middle of the night. He retrieved it and washed it, then took a shower, making sure he cleaned himself thoroughly, inside and out, wondering whether Skinner would put him out of his misery today, and use him in the way he wanted to be used. Afterwards he lubed himself up, and carefully inserted the plug again. Skinner wouldn’t know, and anyway, how could Mulder be expected to keep the damn thing in when he was asleep?


He glanced at the clock again. 8:50. Mulder scrambled into his sweatpants and a tee-shirt, and ran downstairs, barefoot, trying not to make too much noise. Skinner’s newspaper was sitting outside the door. He retrieved it, made a cup of coffee for himself, and drank it, flicking through the newspaper. Then he made a coffee for Skinner, and took it up to his Master’s bedroom. It was 9:05, but Mulder reasoned that a few minutes here or there wouldn’t make much difference. Skinner was asleep, his large, muscled arms splayed out on the bed. Mulder put the coffee and paper on the nightstand, and looked down on his sleeping Master for a long moment. Without his glasses, lying fast asleep, unguarded, Skinner seemed strangely different – somehow innocent, and much younger. Mulder gazed at him curiously, suddenly appreciating how much of Skinner’s power lay not in his magnificent physique, but in the depths of those dark eyes, and the power of that rich, deep voice, that could send shivers up his spine. Mulder tingled all over in anticipation.


He quickly removed his clothing, and slid under the bedclothes. It was warm and dark underneath, and smelled of his Master – it was a good smell; musky, and masculine, but inviting and arousing too. Mulder’s cock was hard before he even located Skinner’s. He got comfortable, curled up beside Skinner’s groin, then gently flicked a tongue over his Master’s sleeping cock, reasoning that Skinner would probably wake with a shriek of surprise if he went straight in for some deep-throating without any foreplay first. He heard Skinner shift, and mumble something, then the big man’s hand appeared by Mulder’s head and stroked his hair softly, and he heard little murmured words of encouragement. Duly encouraged, Mulder took the rapidly hardening cock in his mouth and swallowed it. He was good at oral sex – as a sub, it had been one of the main ways he had served his various tops, as he had rarely allowed them to penetrate him anally, after a couple of painful experiences.


Mulder sucked Skinner’s cock gently, then squeezed the tip between his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. Skinner’s hand increased its stroking motion on Mulder’s hair so he guessed the big man was enjoying this move. Mulder took even more of the cock in his mouth – Skinner was so big that he hoped he could bring him off quickly, or he’d have a sore jaw all day. Luckily, Skinner was happy to oblige, and a few minutes of hard, but entirely pleasurable work on Mulder’s part, brought the desired result. Mulder swallowed Skinner’s come, then cleaned the other man up, before wriggling up the bed, and poking his head out of the top of the sheets.


“Good morning, Master.” He grinned. “I trust it is a good morning.” He licked his lips pointedly, tasting Skinner’s come on them.


Skinner shook his head, and gave a deep laugh. “Yes, slave – a very good morning. Thank you.” He sat up, picked up his coffee, sipped it, and glanced at the clock. “However, when I say 9, I mean 9. Not 8:58, or 9:05. Understood?” He asked.


Mulder pouted. “Sorry, Master,” he muttered, privately thinking Skinner was making a big fuss about nothing.


“And next time – wear slippers, or socks when you’re running around first thing in the morning. Your feet are freezing.”


“Yes, Master,” Mulder murmured, feeling somewhat crushed.


“And as for this newspaper.” Skinner held it up with a frown. “It isn’t ironed.”


“What?” Mulder gasped.


Skinner grinned. “Just kidding. Your wake up call wasn’t bad for a first attempt.” Skinner tousled his hair affectionately. “One of your problems is bending the rules, Fox, just a little bit here and there, thinking it doesn’t matter – but it does. I expect to be obeyed to the letter. The sooner you understand that, the easier it’ll be for you.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder made a face. “Being a slave isn’t easy, Master,” he muttered mournfully.


Skinner laughed, and reached out a big arm to pull Mulder close against his naked chest. “I know,” Skinner told his slave with a theatrical sigh.


“You do?” Mulder looked up in surprise.


“Of course.” Skinner’s eyes looked different without his glasses – closer, naked, more intense. “Everybody is owned by someone – we’re all slaves to something.”


Mulder’s mouth opened in surprise. “Who owns you?” He asked. Who would dare…? He thought.


“I have a very demanding, very beautiful mistress,” Skinner replied.


A woman? Skinner had a woman? Of course he did. Why did Mulder think that he would be attractive to a man like Skinner? To someone this big, strong, attractive, and self-assured. No, Skinner had just taken him as a slave to amuse himself and get all that damn ironing of his done. He didn’t feel anything more for him than that. Mulder felt a stabbing wave of the most intense jealousy deep in his gut. He was appalled by himself – how had he gotten to feel this strongly in less than 24 hours? There was such a vulnerability for him in this situation. If it hadn’t been Skinner, someone he already knew, and, if he was honest, liked and respected, then maybe he wouldn’t be feeling like this. Mulder sat up, unable to control his emotions, knowing they were splayed across his face as obvious as if he had said them out loud. He had felt like this with Phoebe, and he could see the whole thing happening again. He was right never to get involved, never to have more than a few one night stands and safe, twice a week visits with a series of faceless tops. It hurt too much to be devoted to someone, and have that devotion thrown back in your face.


Skinner was gazing at him intently.


“Who is she? Where does she live? How often do you see her?” Mulder demanded.


“She’s called Wanda, and I see her every day,” Skinner replied calmly, unfazed by the interrogation and the tone it was delivered in. “She has big green eyes, and long, elegant limbs. She’s the most beautiful creature in the world, and she lives here. In fact, I believe you’re sitting next to her right now.”


“What?” Mulder frowned. Skinner pulled up the sheet, and Mulder found himself looking down into a pair of sparkling emerald eyes.


“Wanda.” Skinner patted his thigh, and an exquisite cat emerged from under the bedclothes. She treated Mulder to a disdainful look, then padded onto Skinner’s lap, and settled there with a contented purr. Mulder hated her on sight. Skinner rubbed her behind her ears, and Mulder glared. You will not be jealous of a cat…you will not be jealous of a cat…he repeated to himself, trying to get a grip. Skinner sighed, and pulled Mulder’s head onto his chest, then rubbed himbehind the ears too.


“So, the little green eyed devil plays with your heart,” he whispered.


Mulder nodded, wretchedly, and arched his back, leaning into Skinner’s caress. “I’m sorry, Master,” he whispered.


“Don’t ever be ashamed of your feelings – just be honest about them,” Skinner told him firmly. “I want to know how you’re feeling. I’m not a mind reader – I need to know what goes on inside your convoluted brain, slave.”


Mulder moved his head, and gazed at the cat. She was very beautiful, with soft, creamy-colored short fur. “Is she a special breed, Master?” He asked.


“Yes – she’s a Burmese.” Skinner carried on rubbing both his pets.


“Wanda – that’s a pretty name.”


“I named her after the character in Venus in Furs. I am Severin to her capricious majesty.” Skinner gave a rumbling laugh. Mulder glanced up at him, a question in his eyes. “Haven’t you read that book?” Skinner asked in surprise. Mulder shook his head. “Well then you must!” Skinner said firmly. “I’ll give it to you to take to your room and I expect you to read it. How about The Story of O, and The Torture Garden? They’re all classics of the genre, Fox.”


“I’ve heard of them, but haven’t read them. I suppose I’m not very well read on these matters, Master.” Mulder made a face, privately thinking that he’d learned all he needed to know from the top shelf of the video store.


“Your education has been woefully lacking,” Skinner lamented. “You will read all of them, and I want you to tell me how you felt after each one. Which aroused you, and why. What in particular worked for you, and what scenes raised strong emotions.”


“Yes, Master,” Mulder agreed. It didn’t exactly sound like a chore. “I did flick through something by the Marquis de Sade, once.” He heard Skinner make a grunting sound, and looked up. “He wasn’t on your list, Master.”


“Read him, if you want.” Skinner shrugged.


“You don’t like his writing? I’m surprised.” Mulder’s eyes were alight with curiosity. “In many ways I suppose I view myself as a masochist…” Mulder began hesitantly. “Does Master not view himself as a sadist?”


“No. Oh no.” Skinner smiled, and traced a finger lovingly down his slave’s face, and over his lips. “Not a sadist, no – I’m a sensualist, Fox.” He said the word sensualist in such a deep, sexy tone that Mulder’s cock leapt in response. He gazed at his Master thoughtfully, then settled his head back on Skinner’s chest. “There are many great erotic poems, and novels.” Skinner continued to play with Mulder’s ears as he talked. “I’ll introduce you to some of them, Fox. I expect my slave to be interested in more than flying saucers, and chasing after monsters. It’s very easy to become totally focused on one area of your life, and neglect the many other sides of your personality. It happened to me once, and cost me dear. I won’t allow it to happen again.”


Mulder’s ears pricked up at that. “What happened, Master?” He asked, holding his breath.


Skinner smiled and shook his head. “I told you yesterday – personal questions are not permitted at this stage of your slavery.”


Mulder fought down a wave of curiosity and irritation. He wanted to know what kind of man his new Master was, damn it! He wanted to reconcile the strict, no-nonsense bureaucrat he had always known Skinner to be, with the relaxed, inventive, and devastatingly attractive sensualist he had already found his Master to be.


Mulder watched out of the corner of his eye as Skinner read his paper, and finished his coffee. The agent’s cock hardened even more as he remembered what had been promised after coffee. Finally, Skinner put the paper to one side, and glanced down on his slave. “I see that you remember what I told you last night about our morning routine.” He looked pointedly at Mulder’s cock which was straining prettily within its gold ring.


“Yes, sir.” Mulder held his breath. He liked being spanked – but he had always decided when, where, what implement, and how many strokes before. There had been negotiation, and safe words – Mulder had, basically, always been in control. This was different. This time, his Master would decide, and Mulder would have no choice but to submit, to fully relinquish all control. The idea of it excited him, even as much as he feared it.


“Kneel beside the bed,” Skinner commanded, and Mulder scrambled to do his bidding, dislodging the sleeping Wanda in his haste. She shot him a look of utter disgust, and left the bedroom with her tail held high in the air in jaunty protest. “Every morning, you’ll present yourself to me for discipline,” Skinner informed his slave. “When you do you’ll be humble, and contrite – or I’ll certainly make you so during your punishment. I would therefore advise you to present yourselfwithout attitude.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder muttered, his whole body tingling in anticipation.


“Shoulders straight,” Skinner ordered. “Hands behind your back, head down.” Mulder did as commanded. “Knees wider – that’s right, display your pretty cock for me. Good. This is the pose I’ll expect to you to assume prior to punishment, or whenever you’re being scolded.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder nodded, wide-eyed.


Skinner continued. “Sometimes I’ll punish you for misdeeds and disobedience the previous day, but even if your behavior has been exemplary, you will be spanked every morning. This is to enforce in your mind the knowledge that you are subject to my will, that your position in this household is one of slave, and that you may be punished solely for my pleasure – for no other reason than that it pleases me to tan my slave’s naked ass. I find it’s a very successful method for focusing a slave’s mind on his duties for the rest of the day, and most particularly on his status.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder bit down on his lip, seriously aroused by the idea.


“On this occasion though, we have some real issues to address, don’t we?” Skinner placed a finger under Mulder’s chin and lifted it up, so that the younger man was gazing at him. Mulder’s eyes widened. “M…master?” he stammered. “I’ve tried to do everything you asked, I…”


“You’ve disobeyed a direct order,” Skinner said firmly.


Mulder racked his brains. “I don’t remember, Master.”


“Then let me refresh your memory,” Skinner told him curtly. “Last night, I told you not to remove your cock ring, and gave you strict instructions not to come without my permission. You disobeyed me.”


Mulder sat back on his heels, his open mouth in surprise. How could Skinner have known what Mulder got up to in the privacy of his bedroom? “I didn’t!” He blurted.


Skinner looked at him steadily for a long time, until Mulder began to blush, and couldn’t hold that stare any more. “The punishment for lying is considerably more than for disobedience,” Skinner told him. “Now, I’ll ask you again – did you jerk off last night?”


Mulder considered bluffing it out, then gave in with a sigh. “Yes, Master.” He flushed bright red, and dropped his gaze, unable to meet Skinner’s eyes.


“And you removed your cock ring, which I specifically told you was to stay in place until such time as I chose to remove it.” Skinner continued the interrogation in a cool, thorough manner.


“Yes, Master.” Mulder bowed his head, feeling a sense of awed anticipation. His first taste of discipline at his new Master’s hands, and he was guilty of so many offenses! His butt ached already.


“Do you have anything else to confess?” Skinner asked.


“No, Master.” Mulder shook his head, his stomach turning to jelly. Wasn’t this bad enough as it was?


“Wrong answer.” Skinner gripped his chin firmly, and raised his head again so that Mulder was looking into those strong, merciless dark eyes once more. “That’s two lies,” Skinner said.


Mulder remembered the butt plug, too late. “The plug fell out, Master. Please, I didn’t do that on purpose,” he said desperately.


Skinner shook his head. “The first thing you should have done was tell me what had happened. I would have been lenient with you if you had done that. Instead, you’ve just made things worse.”


Much to his surprise, Mulder found that he was shaking. “How did you know, Master?” He whispered.


“It’s virtually impossible to hold that particular butt plug in place while you sleep – it’s too slender and not the right shape.” Skinner shrugged, giving a wry, wicked grin. “I wanted to see how honest you are – I can see that’s another area we’re going to have to work on. Tonight, I’ll see that the plug is chained in place.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder looked at Skinner miserably, waiting to hear his sentence.


Skinner gazed at him speculatively for a moment. “I was going to just use my hand, to get to know the feel of my new slave, and observe his reactions, but I see we have some serious work to do here, so I’m clearly going to have to be more severe than I intended. I will not allow disobedience or deceit to go unpunished – that’s a lesson that you might as well learn early in your slavery, to save yourself considerable discomfort later on. I want you to go up to your bedroom, and bring me your hairbrush,” Skinner ordered.


Mulder bit on his lip, his stomach quaking. His hairbrush had a flat, tortoiseshell back, and he was sure it would pack a deadly smack. He got up, and walked towards the door.


“Fox.” Skinner called him back. “Take your clothing with you.” The big man gestured at the sweatpants and tee shirt strewn on the floor. “For this next week, whenever we are alone together at home, you will be naked,” Skinner said firmly. “I enjoy looking at my naked slave, and your lack of clothing will also help you to focus your mind on what you have become. I want there to be no doubt in your mind that you are owned, subject to your Master’s will and whim. When this lesson is learned, you’ll be allowed to wear clothing more often, at my discretion of course.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder picked up the clothes, and carried them back up to his bedroom. He was surprised to find that he was still shaking. This was getting serious. Every nerve-ending in his body screamed his arousal at the same time as making him tremble in worry about his own helpless lack of control. He was now scared stiff about the spanking, and berated himself every step of the way for trying to lie his way out of his predicament.


Mulder dumped the clothes on his bed, and picked up the hairbrush, already hating the innocuous object. How the hell had Skinner known? Did he have eyes in the back of that bald skull of his? And how the hell was Mulder going to manipulate his Master if he was always going to be one step ahead? He had a sudden idea, and glanced up at the ceiling. He saw the box housing the bell in one corner, and got on the chair, and fiddled around with it, checking it for a hidden camera. He couldn’t see anything, but it was the only explanation for Skinner’s prescience that he could think of. He was busily examining it when it let out a loud chime that sent Mulder falling off the chair and onto the carpet in surprise. He realized that his Master was sitting awaiting his return, and cursed himself once again for knowing how to unerringly get into trouble. He grabbed the brush and ran back down to Skinner’s bedroom, jumping the steps two at a time.


The big man glared at him. “What did you do? Go out and buy a less painful one?” He demanded. “When I send you on an errand, I expect you to come straight back, not dawdle.”


“Sorry, Master,” Mulder gulped, still none the wiser on whether Skinner had just guessed about him jerking off, or really did have a camera installed in his bedroom. He handed Skinner the hairbrush, noticing as he did so that his Master had placed several pillows on his lap.


“Present it properly!” Skinner ordered, and Mulder knelt down, assumed the kneeling position he had been taught earlier, head down, shoulders back, and held the hairbrush out. There was a long pause during which Mulder was dying to look up, but he restrained himself. Finally, the hairbrush was taken out of his hands, and he immediately placed them behind his back as he had been instructed.


“This will do very well I think.” Skinner slapped the hairbrush against his hand a couple of times, making a resounding smacking sound. Mulder closed his eyes, feeling giddy. “All right – over my lap.” Skinner pointed, and Mulder arranged his long body on top of the pillows. Skinner pulled him into place. “I’d make sure you’re comfortable if I were you,” Skinner commented dryly. “You’re going to be there for quite some time.” Mulder wriggled into a position where he could breathe easily. His butt was pushed up as if it were an offering – he felt as if it were sky high, with all those pillows under his thighs. Finally, he was still – feeling cushioned and warm, lying face down on the bed, across his Master’s legs. He felt Skinner’s hand on his butt, and tensed, but no blows were forthcoming. Instead, Skinner stroked his buttocks, kneading them, and occasionally pinching them. Mulder started to relax. Skinner took hold of the end of the butt plug, and pulled it out, placing it on the nightstand. Mulder relaxed even more without the need to keep the object clenched so tightly between his butt cheeks.


“I’m going to save the hairbrush for after I’ve given you a good hand spanking,” Skinner told him, in a low, sexy growl. “I enjoy feeling a slave squirm under my hand – I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of that pleasure. Open your legs.” Mulder obeyed, feeling exposed, his hole open and gaping. “Wider.” Skinner’s fingers dipped into his lubed opening, and Mulder gasped. “Relax.” Skinner stroked him, soothing him, and finally Mulder gave in, allowing the probing. Then, with two fingers still inside his slave, Skinner gave Mulder’s buttocks a light tap with his other hand, then another. He continued with the taps, covering Mulder’s whole bottom, until it began to glow a light pink. “Good…this is a good color for you,” he observed. Mulder made a face into the pillow he was resting on. His bottom felt deliciously warm, and he was all too aware of those two fingers still inside him. The taps morphed into harder, heavier slaps, and Mulder started to wriggle – increasing the stimulation of those two fingers probing his anus. The slaps picked up in pace and with them went Mulder’s squirming body.


“Master…” he panted, wanting some relief from the endless slaps, twisting against those fingers, every lunge from him causing them to thrust deeper inside him.


“Yes, slave?”


“Please…Master…” he begged. He didn’t really want it to stop, but at the same time, he was both aroused and worried by the fact that he couldn’t stop it if he had wanted to. The slaps were harder and faster now, and Mulder’s cock was straining for release. He started to move his hips, to rub his cock against the pillows.


“Remember, slave – you’re forbidden to come,” Skinner told him.


“Yes, Master…” Mulder gasped, as the smacks got harder, making him howl and wriggle so much that he almost fell off the pillows he was rested on.


“Keep still,” Skinner commanded. He withdrew his fingers and pressed down on Mulder’s waist to keep him very firmly in place. Now his hand covered every inch of Mulder’s flaming bottom, hitting home with a series of resounding loud slaps until Mulder was crying out loud, sure that he couldn’t bear the intensity any more. Then, suddenly, without warning, it stopped.


“Now for the brush,” Skinner informed him.


Mulder tensed up, expecting a stinging slap from the hated object, but instead, Skinner ran the cold, smooth, tortoiseshell surface over his burning buttocks, cooling them. Then he began to tap, just as he had before, working into a rhythm that was light, and comfortable. Mulder’s muscles turned to jelly as he lay there, accepting the caressing strokes. Then suddenly, without warning, the rhythm changed, and a powerful slap reigned down on his reddened flesh.


“OW!” He cried out. This was far worse than anything that had gone before – this was real punishment.


“This…” Skinner brought the brush down hard on his lower buttocks, drawing another anguished sob from his hapless slave, “is for disobeying me by removing the cock ring.” He slapped down two hard strokes in succession, making Mulder squeal and squirm fruitlessly under his big hand. It was no use – Mulder was like a butterfly pinned to a board, his body pressed into the pillows by Skinner’s superior strength. “And this…” Two more viciously stinging blows descended on Mulder’s quivering, unprotected flesh. “Is for lying to me about jerking off.” The slaps for lying came fast and furious, making that point very clear. Mulder was surprised to find tears running down his cheeks.


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he gasped. “Ow! I won’t lie again.”


“Good. These are for the other lie – about the butt plug.” Skinner delivered several more stinging blows until Mulder felt as if his whole butt was on fire. He gave up his incessant squirming, and just lay there, moaning and sobbing into his pillow. “These…” Skinner brought the hairbrush down smartly on the top of Mulder’s thighs, and Mulder almost jumped out of his skin, “Are for jerking off.”


“You just punished me for jerking off!” Mulder protested. His protest was met by swats of even more force.


“No, I punished you for lying about it. This is for the disobedience,” Skinner told him, raining several more blows down on the tops of Mulder’s thighs in swift succession. Mulder’s sobbing started in earnest as the spanking continued. His tortured butt felt as if it had been blistered from waist to knee.


“Please, please, please…” he moaned incoherently, the tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he was aware that the slaps were softer, dissipating into little taps, and finally they stopped altogether. Skinner wound down by repeating the warm up, his probing fingers entered between Mulder’s twin globes of reddened flesh, his other hand gently slapping and tapping the tortured buttocks, finally ending by stroking them softly. Then Skinner dipped his head, and licked the hot skin, teasing it with his teeth, giving a series of gentle bites, before finishing with that part of Mulder’s anatomy, and withdrawing his fingers.


Mulder lay there, stunned. He had never been so comprehensively, and yet so lovingly, erotically, punished in his entire life. It had been hard to bear, but paradoxically he was glad that Skinner had made him bear it. He was dimly coming to understand what Skinner meant when he called himself a sensualist.


“Lie there for a moment,” Skinner told him, in a low, intense tone. His fingers continued to lightly stroke Mulder’s hot flesh as Mulder sobbed his heart out. Skinner moved one hand to Mulder’s sweaty hair, and stroked that as well as his butt.


“Hush, it’s all over,” he soothed. “Hush, hush, little slave. You’ve been well punished, and your Master is very pleased with you for taking it so bravely. It was a hard lesson, but I’m sure you’ve learned it well. Hush.” He continued to talk in that low, soothing tone, until Mulder’s sobs finally dissipated, and then the slave turned his head to gaze at his punished bottom over his shoulder.


“Is it blistered?” He asked tremulously.


Skinner shook his head, and laughed. “It just feels that way. It’s certainly a nice color though,” he winked.


Mulder winced as he caught sight of his bright red cheeks – but Skinner was right. The flesh was burning hot but entirely unmarked by lines. He was amazed. It felt so much worse than it looked!


“I like the way you look when you’ve been punished,” Skinner mused. “I like seeing signs of my ownership imprinted on your flesh. I think that a permanent mark will be necessary eventually.”


“B…branding?” Mulder asked fearfully, remembering what Skinner had mentioned previously.


“Hmmm.” Skinner considered the matter thoughtfully. “I think branding would work. Maybe a tattoo as well. Two marks.” He gently tickled Mulder’s balls through his open legs. “Not yet though. Such a mark would be a sign of great commitment. I could only go ahead with it as part of a deeper level of understanding between us. It’s far too early to think of such a marking.”


Mulder’s heart sank at that news. He didn’t like the idea of experiencing the pain of a branding, but the idea of being permanently marked as his Master’s property was curiously appealing. He wanted to be worthy of the brand, and worried that he wouldn’t be able to convince Skinner that he was.


“I do like the idea of marking you as mine though – and also of forcing you to remember, in these early stages when you’re still very prone to forgetting, that you are a slave,” Skinner mused, his fingers resting lightly on Mulder’s warm cheeks. “I think that I’ll keep you marked for a while to help teach you that little lesson.”


“Marked, Master?” Mulder asked, tremulously.


“With a crop – or a switch,” Skinner said. Mulder’s stomach flipped. Both those instruments hurt – big time. “A couple of welts should help you keep your condition in mind, don’t you think?” Skinner asked.


“I don’t know,” Mulder replied, somewhat acerbically.


Skinner laughed out loud. “I do,” he said, slapping Mulder’s butt heartily. Mulder yelped.


Skinner picked up his paper again, and began reading it. Mulder gazed at him for a moment, then wriggled off the pillows, and slid up the bed, putting his head under the paper, and laying it on his Master’s warm, furry chest. Skinner smiled, and looked down on his slave, then kissed his forehead gently. He put his arms around Mulder, and held him. Mulder lay there for a long time, still hiccuping occasionally, his butt throbbing. It felt so good to be held, and comforted. That had so often been lacking in his previous encounters with tops – not because they had not been willing, but because he had never let them. The endorphins kicked in, taking Mulder to some other plane. He was aware, dreamily, of his beating heart, of Skinner’s beating heart, of the big man’s chest hair scratching the side of his cheek, of the warmth of his Master’s flesh, and the pleasing ache in his own buttocks. He sighed contentedly, and nestled closer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Skinner pick up the hairbrush again, and he gave a little whimper, and held on to his Master’s chest more tightly.


Skinner shook his head. “It’s okay, little one. I’m just going to do this…” He placed the hairbrush gently against the side of Mulder’s head and began to stroke it through his hair, smoothing it. It was such a beautiful sensation, that Mulder began to bliss out.


“Tell me…” Skinner murmured, his low tone not breaking the mood. “Who was the first person to spank you?”


“My mom.” Mulder sighed. “She just used to smack the backs of my legs though, when I was small – nothing more than any other kid receives, and she never spanked me on my butt. It didn’t scar me for life or anything. My father never disciplined me like that. He was never there for a start, and when he was… well let’s just say that he had his own special ways of making his disapproval felt,” Mulder trailed off. “I can’t blame them for me being like this – corporal punishment really wasn’t a big feature of our household. Hell, I think I was just born this way,” he said, with a big grin. “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it, everyone’s got their own fetish after all, just that it’s a pain in the butt sometimes – literally.” He grinned again.


“And as an adult? Who was the first person to spank you then?” Skinner asked.


“Phoebe. Only she…” Mulder hesitated. “It didn’t feel safe. The first time she did it, I thought I’d die from the pain. I’d fantasized about it for years, but the reality was different – it hurt. In my jerk-off fantasies, it didn’t – I just had the concept of pain, not the reality.”


“Hmm, yes. The first time can be a shock – it doesn’t sound as if your girlfriend handled it very sensitively,” Skinner mused.


“She told me I was a wimp for crying, but it just brought up all these feelings. I wanted to be…” Mulder stopped, and buried his head in Skinner’s chest, but that gentle stroking on his hair continued.


“Go on,” Skinner’s voice was soft, but insistent. “I told you – I want you to be honest.”


Mulder nodded. “Loved,” he whispered. “She made me feel weak, and useless. I came to believe her too – all the things she said about me not being strong enough to take it, and not being good enough to be with someone like her. It was kind of the way my dad used to make me feel. That whole sense of being a giant disappointment to everyone.” Mulder glanced up, and caught Skinner in an unguarded moment. The expression on the other man’s face took him by surprise. There was something akin to fury reflected in those dark eyes. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear all this crap,” Mulder apologized.


“On the contrary,” Skinner replied, his expression quickly being replaced by the inscrutable mask he usually presented to his slave. “Continue,” he commanded.


Mulder nodded. “After we split up, I just sought out the pain – there didn’t seem any point wanting anything more. I suppose I pursued the pain – I craved it, and then I skipped out as soon as I received it. The catharsis was reached, and I was cut loose, adrift. It wasn’t the fault of my partners though…” Mulder looked up into Skinner’s dark eyes. “It was me. I didn’t wanted to get close, to be obligated, or known, but this…” He hesitated again, and Skinner’s big arms squeezed him encouragingly, “this is different,” he mumbled into Skinner’s chest, feeling a lump forming in his throat, and tears squeezing from his eyes. He knew the tears were partly the aftermath of such a thorough and skilled spanking, but he was angry with himself. Usually he could get out before this mood hit him, but this situation didn’t allow him to do that. He was forced to stay, forced to accept the comfort he had so long told himself he didn’t require, because with it came obligation, and affection, and with that he was soon disappointing the very people he most wanted to love him. He tried to rub the tears away surreptitiously, but Skinner reached out two gentle fingers and wiped them away for him.


“Forget everybody else. You belong to me now,” Skinner told him, his tone so strict that Mulder looked up in surprise. “And I’m an exacting Master, Fox. I’ll train you well, but it’s a hard path.”


“I know, Master.” Mulder nodded. “I want it, Master,” he added.


“Good. I’m starving – let’s get breakfast.”


Skinner sent Mulder on ahead, while he took a shower and got dressed. Mulder mooched around in the kitchen, finding some cereal and laying two bowls on the kitchen table. Skinner appeared a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of tight denim jeans that showed off his long legs, and a tight white tee shirt, that did the same for his chest. He smelled of soap and toothpaste, and Mulder’s cock showed its appreciation – something that Skinner signally failed to notice.


“Does Master want me to feed the cat as well?” Mulder asked, glancing at Wanda who was winding her way around Skinner’s legs in a none-too-subtle fashion.


“Absolutely not.” Skinner looked shocked. He picked up the elegant cat, and lovingly kissed her behind the ears. “I will serve Wanda, just as you serve me. We all know our place in this world.” He bestowed another kiss on Wanda’s delicate little nose and Mulder sighed, suspecting he’d always come second to the damn cat.


“Of all the Masters, in all the world, I have to be owned by the one who goes gooey over a stupid cat,” he muttered under his breath. He was immediately rewarded by a firm slap on his already sore butt.


“Ow!” he squealed.


“Then don’t push me.” Skinner frowned. “Now sit down, and eat.” He took a seat himself, and watched as Mulder eased himself gingerly into his chair, wincing slightly as he did so.


“I’ve never eaten naked and collared before,” Mulder said, glancing down ruefully at his ringed cock.


“Get used to it,” Skinner told him, grinning.


After breakfast, Skinner piled a mound of shirts into Mulder’s arms and commanded him to get ironing. He was under strict instructions to present the first results of his labors to his Master for his approval. Mulder slaved over that shirt for fully thirty minutes, doing his best with it, but his efforts were met by a raised eyebrow from his Master.


“Using steam might help,” Skinner observed.


“Steam?” Mulder repeated blankly.


Skinner got up, took hold of his slave’s ear, walked him back into the laundry room, and showed him how to add water to the iron.


“Steam.” Skinner repeated firmly.


Mulder wondered at the miracles of the modern steam iron as he made a much more passable attempt at the shirt on his second go. Skinner still sent him back to put some extra effort into the collar but finally, after an hour, he had managed to iron one whole shirt to his Master’s satisfaction. Skinner left him there for the remainder of the morning, and Mulder stared dreamily into space as he ironed on automatic pilot. He ran through that spanking again, his buttocks still throbbing pleasantly from the memory. Occasionally he picked up the shirt he was working on, and pressed it to his nose. He could just smell the faint scent of his Master, clinging to the fabric even after washing. Mulder inhaled – it was a clean, musky smell. He idled away a few minutes fantasizing about it being bottled in some way, for him to smell whenever he needed his fix. He was so spaced out that he barely noticed when Skinner returned to the laundry room.


“Fox.” Skinner waved at him. “Hello? What were you thinking?” He asked, when Mulder finally looked at him.


“Oh, I was just wondering how the hell I came to be standing here, butt naked, next to an extremely hot object,” Mulder said with a heartfelt sigh.


“Tell me that you’re referring to me, and not the iron, and I might just let you out of here,” Skinner said with a gleam in his eye.


“Oh, definitely you, Master,” Mulder replied with a grin.


“Okay, get moving then. I think it’s time I showed you some of the other facilities in this building.” He held the door open, and Mulder sidled past him – but he wasn’t quick enough to evade the slap that descended on his naked butt.


“That’s for the lie you just told,” Skinner grinned


“Aren’t you ever going to let me get away with anything?” Mulder whined.


“No.” Skinner handed Mulder his sweats, tee shirt, and sneakers, and then beckoned him to follow.


“Where are we going, Master?” Mulder asked, as Skinner pressed the button for the basement.


“There’s a pool, and a gym in this apartment building. The 18th floor elevator card I gave you grants you access,” Skinner said, as they got out of the elevator. He showed Mulder to a small pool, and a well-equipped gym.


“You’ll swim every morning before waking me. 5:15 to 5.45, Skinner told his slave.


Mulder pouted. “That’s very early, Master,” he pointed out neutrally, not wanting to earn himself another swat.


“That’s all right – you’ll be having a lot of early nights so you’ll be getting more than enough sleep.” Skinner grinned. Mulder’s heart sank. “We’ll use the gym together on various occasions after work. You can spot me, and I’ll make sure you’re put through your paces – I want to work on building up some definition in your arms and legs – not much, just toning. For today though…” Skinner glanced at the empty pool. “It looks like we have the place to ourselves. Get undressed, and start swimming,” he commanded.


Mulder stared at him. “I don’t have my speedos, Master,” he protested.


“I don’t want you to wear them.” Skinner grinned. “I want to see your red butt doing lengths in that pool. Now!” He snapped. Mulder jumped, and began to strip off his clothing. Skinner removed the cock ring, then beckoned with his head for Mulder to dive in.


Mulder gasped as the cold water made contact with his still warm backside, the chlorine stinging his sensitive flesh. He was desperately worried that someone would come in and see him, red ass up, but also enjoyed the sheer sensory delight of swimming naked, his cock hanging down, the water caressing his skin. Skinner watched him swim for half an hour, then beckoned Mulder out of the pool. They returned to the apartment, where Mulder was set about doing various menial tasks for the rest of the day, before Skinner called for take-out, and instructed Mulder to assume his submissive position for feeding.


“Whilst in this position you’ll speak only when spoken to,” Skinner told him. “Other than that you’ll remain silent. Understood?”


Mulder nodded.


“Good. I’m going to outline some of the activities I have planned for the rest of this week, so that you can become accustomed to the idea of them in advance,” Skinner informed him, as he spooned some food into Mulder’s waiting mouth, then took a forkful himself and chewed it thoughtfully before continuing. “Training a completely obedient and submissive slave, who is also charming, intelligent, witty, cultured, thoughtful and can show initiative, is a long, hard process. I don’t expect to complete it in a week – but I do expect to cover the basics. You should make the most of this week, Fox. It’s unlikely that you’ll receive this much time and attention once we return to work.”


Mulder nodded, keeping his eyes low, waiting to be fed again. The food was delicious – Skinner clearly had great taste in restaurants.


“I have a small, private party planned for next Friday evening,” Skinner informed him. Mulder looked up in surprise, then lowered his eyes again, as he had been commanded. “I will be inviting close personal friends – and will take the opportunity to show off my new slave. By then, I’ll expect you to be walking to the leash, to entertain, and serve, and to submit publicly to whatever attention I wish to bestow upon you.”


Mulder looked up again. “Publicly…?” he blurted, then bit down on his lip, aware that he wasn’t allowed to speak.


“Publicly,” Skinner repeated, allowing the transgression to pass with nothing more than a glare. “I should make one thing clear – you’ll be displayed naked at the party. While I expect my friends to bring their subs, I’ll specify that they should be clothed. You will be the only one without clothing. The whole point of the party is to show you off, after all,” he grinned. Mulder felt a flush start at his neck, and flood up his face. “You’re embarrassed by the idea?” Skinner asked.


Mulder nodded. “Yes, Master,” he whispered. “Please don’t make me do it.”


“It’s my wish,” Skinner said firmly. “You’ll obey.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder bit down on his lip again.


“If you’re not naked, how can I display the signs of my ownership?” Skinner told him. “On Friday, the only things you’ll be wearing are my rings – all five of them.”


Mulder looked up, the panic showing in his eyes.


“Don’t worry.” Skinner smiled, and caressed his slave’s hair gently. “I’ll pierce you towards the middle of the week. Probably on Wednesday or Thursday. It will be an important experience for you. Trust me.”


“Will…does Master intend to do the piercing himself then?” Mulder faltered, surprised and aroused by that thought.


“Of course.” Skinner nodded. “I’m fully proficient so you needn’t worry. I wouldn’t bring anyone else in – I don’t want you to speak to anyone else between now and your return to work, even at the party. That way you can learn to focus entirely on me, and my demands, and it will reinforce the fact that your sole aim in life is to think of ways of pleasing me.”


“Yes, Master,” Mulder whispered, thinking of X Files, and bureaucratic procedure, and how very unlikely it was that when they returned to work he would be half as obedient as he was kneeling here, enjoying himself in this extended sex game. He had a feeling that he wasn’t likely to please Skinner any more in their professional lives than he had before he had signed that slavery contract.


“Good. Next Saturday I’ll take you out shopping,” Skinner continued with the timetable, “to buy you clothes. Sunday will be spent preparing for our return to work, and discussing what will be expected of you. After that – we’ll take it as it comes. Do you have any questions, Fox?” He lifted Mulder’s chin so that Mulder was looking into his eyes.


“Only one, Master,” Mulder said softly. “When will you fuck me?”


Skinner was silent for a long moment, looking down on his slave, and Mulder wondered whether he should have asked that question, but it had been preying on his mind. Skinner was keeping him in an almost permanent state of arousal, and not only was he refused his own release, but Skinner was also refusing to take any pleasure from using Mulder himself. Skinner studied him intently, then leaned forward, and drew Mulder’s head close.


“Is that what you want, slave?” He hissed into Mulder’s ear.


Mulder moaned, his cock hardening unbearably. “Yes, Master,” he replied.


“It’ll happen,” Skinner stated, “when I’m good and ready, slave.”


“Yes, Master…please, Master…will Master allow me to come?” Mulder requested.


“Now?” Skinner raised an eyebrow.


“Sometime soon,” Mulder begged weakly.


“No, slave. It’s another hard lesson for you to learn, but I’ve told you before – your own pleasure has to be earned. What’s important is serving your Master.” Skinner’s gentle, continuous fondling belied his stern words. “Now, if you hadn’t disobeyed me on this matter last night, I might have been more lenient on the subject today. As it is – I want to make very sure you don’t have the opportunity to repeat last night’s mistake. You clearly can’t be trusted when left to your own devices.” Skinner stood up. “I think it’s time to reinforce a few of the lessons you’ve learned today. Follow me.”


Mulder followed his Master upstairs, his heart beating as he realized they were going to the 18th floor apartment, and quickening even more when Skinner took the key from around his neck, opened the door to the Playroom, ushered him inside, and locked the door again behind them. He turned the lights on low, and the room was bathed in a warm, red glow. Skinner went over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a complicated leather contraption, then he went and sat down in a large, throne like chair, and beckoned Mulder over. Mulder was grasped between his Master’s legs, and pulled close, then Skinner took hold of his cock and balls, and began fastening the contraption around them.


“This, in case you haven’t figured it out, is a male chastity device. It’ll prevent you from becoming erect – and you won’t be able to touch your cock either, as it’ll be encased in leather. There’s a small opening here,” Skinner demonstrated, “so you’ll be able to use the bathroom, but I’m attaching this,” he held up a tiny padlock, “to ensure that you can’t get access to your cock.”


“That’s…cruel, Master,” Mulder spluttered.


“You only have yourself to blame. If you’d kept your hands by your sides, and your mind on pleasing me, and not yourself, then this wouldn’t be necessary. Hands behind your back – NOW!” Skinner ordered, as Mulder’s fingers feebly protested the strapping on of the leather device. Mulder gave the other man a hard look, then, reluctantly, did as he was told. Skinner also fastened a thick leather bag over Mulder’s balls. “For protection,” he told Mulder, slapping them lightly.


“Protection from what?” Mulder asked in alarm.


“From my switch. It’s time to mark you,” Skinner informed him, his legs tightening around Mulder’s body as the agent’s knees started to fail him, toppling him forwards. “I’ll raise a couple of welts on your backside. That should give you something else to think about apart from your cock while you’re in bed tonight.”


“Master.” Mulder found himself sinking to his knees, and resting his chin in a gesture of supplication on Skinner’s thigh. “Please don’t punish me, Master,” he whispered.


“It’s not a punishment, little one.” Skinner kissed Mulder’s forehead gently. “It’ll hurt a great deal – but by experiencing my switch marking your body as mine, and welcoming everything I choose to do to you, you’ll come to truly understand the nature of your devotion.” His lips trailed down, and covered those of his slave, and Mulder opened up his mouth, welcoming his Master’s tongue inside him, relishing the taste of him, and the power of his kiss. When it was over, Skinner gently fondled his face again. “Do you understand, Fox?” he murmured softly. “This isn’t to punish or correct you, merely to mark you as mine. It’s purpose is less to make you endure pain, than to enforce your understanding of your slavery.”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder nodded. He felt his cock fighting a desperate battle with the leather that encased it – a battle it couldn’t win. “I…I’m your slave Master,” he said, finally giving in, and kissing his Master’s knee. “Do whatever pleases you. I’m yours.”


Skinner smiled down on him approvingly. “That’s good – very good, Fox. I’ll take very good care of you,” he promised. Mulder nodded, and followed his Master over to the cupboard, watching from his kneeling, submissive position, while Skinner found the switch he wanted to use, and sliced it through the air a few times. Mulder’s stomach clenched in fear and anticipation. Switches hurt, but the idea of bearing his Master’s marks on his skin aroused him. He was once again torn between his fear and desire. Finally, Skinner was satisfied. He nodded Mulder to the spanking horse and bent him over it, but didn’t tie him down.


“Knees wider, that’s right.” Skinner tapped his slave’s knee with the switch, until Mulder was fully stretched and open. Now he understood why Skinner had protected his testicles – he could feel them exposed to the air between his open legs. “Push that ass up, so I can get a nice clean target. All right – as this is the first time, I’ll just give you three strokes,” Skinner said. “The marks will take 2 or 3 days to fade completely. I think though, that an ass like yours…” he fondled Mulder’s exposed buttocks, “should be kept permanently marked. It’s up to you to keep an eye on them. When they’re gone, I want you to remind me that it’s time to mark you again. Understood?”


“Yes, Master.” Mulder agreed, staring face down at the floor.


“If you fail to inform me, and the marks fade, then I’ll punish you. It’s unlikely that I won’t notice them this week, when you’ll be mostly naked, but in a few weeks time, when you’re out chasing after UFO’s again and I’m busy with my own job, it’s entirely likely that I might not notice. The penalty for not refreshing my memory will be severe. Is that clear?”


“Yes, Master,” Mulder repeated, his buttocks twitching as Skinner sliced the switch through the air experimentally again.


“Just because I might not always see them every day, and they are invisible to anybody else, doesn’t mean that they aren’t important. The crucial thing is that you will be aware of them constantly, wherever you are. Marking is more for your instruction, and to focus your mind on your slavery, than for my enjoyment – although I’m sure I’ll enjoy them too!”


Mulder shivered in anticipation, as Skinner took up position behind him, and rested the switch lightly on his backside. Mulder began to say a little prayer, moaning softly to himself. The switch was lifted, and there was a whoosh of cool air, before a line of pure fire was painted across his buttocks. Mulder let out a howl, and hopped up and down, holding onto the horse with both arms. “Again,” Skinner said firmly, pressing his slave back down, and Mulder calmed himself, trying to prepare mentally for the next stroke. Another streak of lightning cut into his flesh and he wailed. “You’re doing well, Fox. One more. You can stand it, little one. For me.” Skinner’s hand stroked Mulder’s sweaty back, soothing him, and Mulder closed his eyes, awaiting the final stroke. It was as hard as the others, imprinting itself deep into his waiting, exposed bottom. Mulder gave a heartfelt whimper but he was secretly pleased by his ability to take the strokes. Skinner helped him to stand, and then his Master escorted him over to the cupboard and opened a door to reveal a full length mirror. Skinner put his arms around his slave, holding him tight against his chest, and turned Mulder’s head so that he could look over his shoulder at his newly marked backside. Mulder surveyed the three distinct red welts with a sense of pride.


“I haven’t broken the skin,” Skinner informed him, his arms tight around Mulder’s shoulders. “You look beautiful with my marks on your flesh,” he breathed, his fingers spidering down Mulder’s back to lightly touch the welts. Mulder smiled at his reflection, then up at his Master, and buried his face in the other man’s shoulder.


“Thank you, Master,” he whispered. Skinner smiled down on him tenderly, and held him for a few moments, then he disengaged, and walked Mulder over to the window. That side of the room wasn’t lit, and for a disoriented moment, Mulder thought they were going to walk right out into the darkness. Instead, Skinner stopped him and placed his nose against the window.


“Stand there and think about being marked as my property, and what that means. Just reflect on those marks, think of nothing but them,” Skinner said in a low, intense voice that made Mulder shiver. Skinner’s fingers touched the welts again, more firmly this time, and Mulder winced. “I’ll be right here, enjoying the view.” Skinner gave a throaty little laugh, and Mulder heard him move away.


Mulder stood looking out onto the city beneath him, with its bright lights. This was the tallest apartment block around, and nobody overlooked the 18th floor, but even so, he felt exposed, standing naked in front of the window. It was impossible not to do as he had been instructed. His backside throbbed constantly, and it was all he could think about. He heard Skinner moving around the room, and he wondered at how comprehensively Skinner had outmaneuvered him during the course of this day. His Master had effectively provided him with a wonderland of sadomasochistic eroticism, as if he had seen into Mulder’s secret soul, and dragged out even those fantasies he hadn’t admitted to himself. A part of Mulder still wanted to fight, to manipulate, to force the pace, but another part of him just wanted to give in, and accept whatever new game Skinner came up with next. Mulder’s cock ached inside its casing, throbbing in time to the ache in his sore backside. He fantasized about Skinner taking him, about Skinner piercing him, displaying him naked to his friends, branding him. He still feared it, but he was surprised by how much he wanted it all too.


Mulder was dimly aware of time passing, of the soreness in his buttocks subsiding, of a feeling of calm washing over him, as he stood there, presenting his naked, marked ass to the room. Finally Skinner came over to him again, and kissed the back of his neck.


“You’re tired,” his Master said, and Mulder was surprised to find that it was true. “We’ve just got one more thing to do, and then you’ll go to bed.” Skinner’s hands ran up and down the outside of Mulder’s arms, and his voice was seductive, and full of promise. He led Mulder back over to the large chair again, and sat down. Walking behind his Master reminded Mulder of something the big man had mentioned earlier.


“You said…that you’d train me to walk to the leash, Master,” he began. Skinner nodded, beckoning his slave forward. “When will that be?” Mulder asked tentatively.


“When you’re pierced.” Skinner smiled. “The leash will be fastened to these.” His fingers tweaked Mulder’s nipples. Mulder opened his mouth wordlessly. “Ah, you assumed it would be attached to your collar.” Skinner shook his head wryly. “No, Fox, my slave will be trained to walk to a leash attached to a much more intimate part of the anatomy. I find it helps focus a slave’s mind minutely on his Master’s slightest command if the pull is to this delicate little area.” He rubbed Mulder’s nipples again, and Mulder moaned, seeing himself in his mind’s eye – naked, pierced, marked… His cock made another desperate bid for freedom, and was again constricted by the leather chastity device. Mulder whimpered in frustration, convinced that being constantly on the edge of arousal would drive him crazy.


“Here. Over my knee.” Skinner patted his knee, and held up a butt plug. It was slightly larger than the one Mulder had worn the previous night. Mulder swallowed, and arranged himself over his Master’s lap. Skinner stroked his back for a moment, then gently blew on his welted backside, dipping his head to lick the marks. This sent a wild heat through Mulder’s body, and he let out a little cry. He felt Skinner’s fingers push inside him, and tried to relax and open up.
“That’s good. You’ve already improved on this,” Skinner told him approvingly. “Keep open, there…” His fingers brushed Mulder’s prostate, and Mulder writhed, a wave of ecstasy flooding through him. “Does that feel good?” Skinner asked. Mulder nodded, his throat dry. “Good. Now stay open for me.” He removed his fingers, and Mulder felt the blunt nose of the butt plug gently inserted into his anus. It slid smoothly along the lubed passage, until it was fully inserted, wedging his butt cheeks apart. It wasn’t painful – merely intrusive. Skinner set Mulder back on his feet, and attached a series of chains from the plug to the chastity device, securing it firmly in place.


“That won’t fall out,” Skinner told his slave approvingly. “Now, bed.”


Mulder looked at him questioningly. “Doesn’t Master want any personal attention.” He knelt between Skinner’s open legs, and gestured to his fly.


“Not tonight. You’ve had a busy day. Save that talented mouth of yours for my wake-up call.” Skinner grinned, fondling Mulder’s hair. “I’m delighted that you’re thinking of ways to please me though.” He bent to kiss his slave again, and Mulder opened up his mouth, savoring his reward. Then Skinner stood up. “Bed,” he said firmly, delivering a light slap to Mulder’s backside that made his slave yelp and scurry for the door.


Mulder lay face down on his bed, his mind and body both reeling from the day’s events. He felt tired, and drained, and yet curiously happy. Suddenly he remembered his earlier worry about the camera that might be hidden in his room, and sat up, then yelped as his buttocks protested at being sat on. He got up cautiously, and searched the room, but found nothing. Mulder threw himself back on the bed, exhausted.


“I’ll play along for now,” he told nobody in particular, “but only because I’m enjoying myself. Well, maybe not the ironing, but the rest of it. I’ll just figure out what game you’re playing, then I’ll start to manipulate things. I won’t be this obedient forever,” he muttered, his eyes closing.


Half asleep, he was almost sure that he heard a deep, rich laugh mocking his words.


End of Part 4


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