24/7: 7. I Must Always Be Honest With My Master

 

 

Mulder paused outside Skinner’s door, carrying two cups of coffee. It was amazing – he’d only been living here for a few days, and already Skinner was allowing him to sleep in his bed, to have sex on demand, and to skip the ironing chores. He’d even promised to give Wanda away to Scully. Mulder smiled, and pushed open the door: everything was good. He felt safe, secure, loved, and the sex was so damned hot! This was everything he could have hoped for, or dreamed of. What could possibly go wrong? He entered the bedroom, and stopped short. The coffee spilled, dark brown liquid spiraling in slow motion, scalding his naked chest.

 

Skinner wasn’t in the bed.

 

He was standing by the window, frozen, caught in the beam of a bright light. Mulder shouted at him to get away, ran to the night-stand, found a gun, aimed it, and tried to fire, but nothing happened. He could hear his own voice from a great distance, screaming, and his chest hurt. He watched, helplessly, as Skinner disappeared in front of him, and he couldn’t do, or say, anything to bring him back. As the light faded, Mulder knelt down beside the bed, and cried until his ribs ached, and his chest hurt damn it! It hurt.

 

Mulder woke up, still sobbing from the dream. His chest did hurt – his nipples throbbed from the piercing yesterday. His cock twitched as he recalled the erotic heat of that ceremony, and he longed to pump it into a full erection, and jerk off, but Skinner had hobbled that particular pastime by strapping him into the chastity belt again. His Master had also warned him that he wasn’t allowed to come for the next few days, so he’d be wearing the damn thing every night until the party, after which he’d consider the situation again, depending on how well Mulder behaved. Four days without being able to come! Here he was, slap-bang in the middle of the most erotic situation he’d ever been in, in his entire life, and he was unable to relieve the pressure. It was a most exquisite torture, and his Master seemed to know the best way to manipulate it for maximum torment value. His Master… Mulder felt a cold sweat sweep over him as the full details of the dream came flooding back. He tried to calm himself. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to insomnia, but he’d never had this particular nightmare before.

 

He got up, turned the light on, and the sparkling gold of the nipple rings caught his attention as he passed the mirror on his way to the bathroom. His nipples were erect, and if they weren’t so damned painful he’d have enjoyed how enticing they looked. As it was, he shuddered at the very thought of anyone touching them. His Master had already exhibited a strong interest in this particular part of his anatomy, so he might well choose to fondle them. Mulder knew there was nothing he could do if Skinner wanted to play with any part of his slave’s body, but he was hoping that his Master would be merciful, and allow the painful nubs of flesh a few days in which to heal.

 

Mulder winced as he saw how pale he looked, with dark shadows under his eyes. Damn! Where had that dream come from? He went to the bathroom, then crawled back into bed, but, try as he might, he couldn’t erase the image of Skinner disappearing from sight, wrenched away from him. Taken, just as Samantha and Scully had been taken, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. He was always so damn helpless, a victim of circumstance, and fate. It was as if everyone he loved was doomed to this particular fate. Everyone he loved…Mulder bit on his lip. Love. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to fall in love with anyone. Skinner had entered his heart like an unstoppable force of nature, and taken up residence there as if it were a kingdom he had been born to rule.

 

Mulder tossed and turned, and then finally gave up any hope of sleep. He thought about Skinner lying all alone in his bed, unprotected, unaware of the danger he was in, and struggled with himself for half an hour. He knew he was being stupid, that it had just been a dream that had tapped into his worst fear, but he couldn’t stop himself worrying. Losing Skinner would just about kill him. However likely or unlikely, he couldn’t just stand by and let it happen. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he did. Mulder got up, picked up his blanket and pillow, grabbed his gun for good measure, then crept noiselessly down the stairs. He paused for a moment outside Skinner’s bedroom, then took his life in his hands, and opened the door.

 

Skinner was lying under the bedclothes, arms and legs outstretched as always, in a pose of abandoned repose. Wanda was nestled under one of his strong, muscular arms. She looked up as Mulder came in, and he willed her to be silent. She didn’t move, just stared at him with those glowing green eyes as he lay down on the floor at the foot of the bed, and pulled the blanket around him. He didn’t even want to think about the trouble he’d get into if Skinner found him here. It was just where he needed to be. Mulder fell asleep within seconds, reassured by the deep, comforting sound of his Master’s breathing.

 

He awoke just after 8 am, wondering why he was suffocating. He soon located the source of the problem: Wanda was sitting on his chest, gazing at him curiously with her shining eyes. Clearly the novelty value of having a strange man lying on the floor for half the night had been too much for her.

 

“Wanda, there’s a saying you should be aware of. It goes ‘curiosity killed the cat’. Remember that,” Mulder hissed in an undertone, casting a glance at his sleeping Master to make sure he wasn’t in deep shit. He sent up a swift prayer of thanks to whatever deity looked out for insomniac slaves for the fact that his Master was clearly a deep sleeper, and disengaged himself from Wanda, placing her soundlessly back on the bed.

 

“Just view it as a friendly warning,” he whispered, patting her head. She emitted a trilling purr that erupted like the sound of a volcano in the quiet room, and Mulder hotfooted it for the door, making it just in time as his Master mumbled something drowsily in his sleep, and turned over.

 

“Did you sleep okay?” Skinner asked, an hour or so later, looking at his slave keenly as he sat up and accepted the coffee Mulder brought him.

 

“Yes. Why?” Mulder replied defensively. Of all the Masters, in all the world, why the hell had he been lumbered with the one with eyes in the back of his head, and the ability to seemingly know what was going on in the entire household when he was clearly fast asleep?

 

“Because of your piercing,” Skinner replied mildly. “I thought you might have been in some discomfort during the night.”

 

“Oh, yeah. That.” Mulder shrugged. “No. I’m fine.”

 

“So you slept okay?” Skinner repeated, those dark eyes still staring at him searchingly.

 

“Yes. I slept fine,” Mulder lied, just managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes in irritation at his Master’s sudden obsession with his sleeping habits. He let out a startled yelp, as Skinner put the coffee down smartly on the night-stand, plucked his ear between his thumb and forefinger, and dragged him onto the bed, delivering several slaps to his upturned rump in quick succession.

 

“I’m hearing some attitude this morning,” Skinner told him, cheerfully peppering this statement with a series of stinging slaps.

 

“I’m sorry!” Mulder gasped, taken by surprise.

 

“No, I’m still hearing it.” Skinner clamped one hand firmly over Mulder’s waist, and began whaling his slave’s ass in earnest.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…Master!” Mulder yelled at last, dimly realizing what had offended his Master. The spanking stopped, abruptly.

 

“That’s better. Kneel.” Skinner clicked his fingers, and Mulder quickly obeyed, getting into position beside the bed, back straight, and head down. “All right, let’s start again. Did you sleep well last night, slave?”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder responded immediately.

 

“Are you sure? You’re not exactly looking bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning.”

 

Mulder looked up, suppressing a sigh. How the hell did Skinner get to be this observant? Was he never going to get anything past his Master?

 

“My chest did hurt a bit in the night, Master,” he admitted finally.

 

“Did you take any painkillers?” Skinner asked.

 

“Um, no.” Mulder remembered the medicine cabinet in his private bathroom. He had been so preoccupied by his nightmare that he hadn’t even thought of taking any painkillers, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Skinner. He never spoke of his restless nights – not to Scully, not to anyone. Investigating the causes of his insomnia required a level of self-analysis that he didn’t feel capable of. He was so used to his fucked-up, dysfunctional life that he didn’t even think there might be a solution to any of it, and he sure as hell wasn’t telling Skinner that his worst nightmare was seeing his Master whisked off by a spaceship. For a start, that would mean admitting how much the other man meant to him, to say nothing of the fact that he’d probably die laughing at the absurdity of it.

 

“Why not?” Skinner took a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving those of his slave.

 

“I don’t know,” Mulder snapped, with a sulky shrug. “Master,” he added hastily as Skinner’s face darkened.

 

“Well in future, please remember to take better care of yourself,” Skinner told him firmly.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder muttered.

 

“Good. Go and get me a bowl with some boiled water in it, and the salt,” Skinner instructed, “and bring me some cotton balls as well.”

 

Mulder scurried to obey, and returned a few minutes later with the requested items, laying them on the night-stand. Wanda wandered over and sniffed at them curiously, clearly intrigued by the proceedings.

 

“On the bed. I think we’ll do a thorough inspection today,” Skinner told him, clicking his fingers.

 

Mulder felt stupid clambering onto the bed and trying to arrange his long limbs as tidily as possible for Skinner’s examination.

 

“All right – I’m going to start your leash training today, so we might as well start with some basic commands,” Skinner said, as he surveyed his slave’s clumsy maneuvering. “When I click my fingers, you’ll assume the kneeling position that I’ve already taught you. Kneel facing me on the bed – you can put your knees on either side of my legs. That’s right.” He moved Mulder into position. “Hands behind your back, eyes down. I’ve noticed that you’re not very good at keeping your eyes down, slave.”

 

“No, Master. Sorry, Master.” Mulder bit on his lip, keeping his eyes lowered. “I like reading your expressions, Master.”

 

“Well, you can listen to what my voice tells you instead,” Skinner replied. “You should learn to respond to non-visual clues, Fox. I want you to become attuned to every aspect of my command – from my voice to my gestures.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder nodded. This was so hard though! He liked looking at his Master, and he found it almost impossible to keep his head down, in the submissive position. He was just too curious, too eager to know what was happening, and to figure out a response to it.

 

“I suspect that you disobey me on this because you’re fighting your submission,” Skinner observed. “Isn’t that the case? You’re so busy trying to read my response to you, that you aren’t thinking about pleasing me. I’ve already told you that addressing yourself to my needs is the only thing you need concern yourself with. Forget about yourself, Fox, and learn to embrace your submission.”

 

“I’ll try, Master,” Mulder replied in a small voice. He let out a deep sigh, and Skinner chuckled.

 

“I know – it’s hard, but we’ll get there,” he said gently, kissing his slave’s forehead. “If I want you to look at me, I’ll lift your chin up. When I want you to look down again, I’ll click my fingers. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

“Good. Remember it then. Now, let me have a look at these.”

 

Mulder watched from under lowered lashes, as Skinner’s hand came into his field of vision, making a beeline for his sore nipples. It was all he could do not to flinch, as his Master investigated the newly pierced nubs of flesh gently but thoroughly, then reached for the bowl of salt water.

 

“I’ll bathe these twice a day. It might hurt,” Skinner warned him. Mulder nodded, and took a sharp intake of breath as his Master carefully dabbed the warm water over his sore flesh. It was actually quite soothing, and he soon relaxed, but he yelped when Skinner gently turned one of the rings, and put his hands out instinctively, looking up. Skinner paused, and flicked his fingers again.

 

“Eyes down, hands behind your back. Get used to it, Fox,” he said softly. Mulder swallowed hard, and then did as he was told. He’d found that one of the hardest thing about his slavery was allowing Skinner to touch his body whenever, and however, he wanted – but it was also one of the things that aroused him most as well. Skinner finished up with his nipples, much to Mulder’s relief, and continued his inspection.

 

He undid the chastity belt, and examined his slave’s cock, and balls, although Mulder wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for.

 

“Is there a problem, Master?” he asked, as the examination continued for several interminable minutes, during which his cock started to swell and rise.

 

“No, I just enjoy touching my slave, and you know, I’m thinking that a piercing would look pretty here.” Skinner grinned, caressing the tip of Mulder’s cock.

 

Mulder looked up in alarm. “Please, Master…” he said weakly.

 

“Any argument with that?” Skinner asked dangerously.

 

Mulder hesitated for a long time before backing down. “No, Master,” he whispered.

 

“Good. Fox – you’re supposed to be in deep submission right now. I don’t recall asking you a question, or giving you permission to look up.” He clicked his fingers, and Mulder reluctantly lowered his eyelashes. “That’s better.” Skinner slapped his rump lightly. “Turn around. I told you today’s inspection would be thorough, and that’s exactly what it’s going to be. On your hands and knees, slave.”

 

Mulder obeyed, flushing furiously. He found this to be the most humiliating position of all – butt raised in the air, right in front of his Master’s nose, and not for the purpose of their mutual pleasure, just for inspection. He felt Skinner’s hands on his bottom, stroking, and prodding. His Master trailed along a sore area with his finger, and Mulder winced.

 

“This is where I punished you yesterday afternoon. I told you that would leave a mark. Do you remember the lesson you were being taught with that punishment?” Skinner’s fingers pressed hard on his sore butt, and Mulder gave a strangled yelp. “I’m waiting. If you can’t remember the lesson less than 24 hours after the punishment, then I’ll clearly have to make your corrections more…memorable.”

 

“Ow! Sorry, Master. I do remember,” Mulder gasped. “I must not disobey my Master. That was the lesson!”

 

“Good.”

 

Mulder bit on his lip, as Skinner’s finger continued to examine the welted area in exquisitely painful detail. Then he moaned as Skinner pried his buttocks apart, and inserted a finger into his anus, wriggling it around. It felt different, and Mulder realized, too late, that after his interrupted night, he had forgotten to lube himself.

 

“Fox, you’re dry. Supposing I’d wanted to use you this morning?” Skinner asked.

 

“I’m sorry, Master. I forgot.” Mulder wriggled as Skinner inserted a second finger, and then a third. He was rewarded by a slap on his bottom.

 

“Still.” Skinner commanded. “Forgetting isn’t good enough, Fox. Have you ever experienced a dry fuck?”

 

“No, Master.”

 

“Well, trust me, you wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. Can you feel that this is more uncomfortable dry?” He pushed all three fingers forcefully into Mulder’s anus, making Mulder gasp.

 

“Yes, Master,” he panted.

 

“Well, imagine it’s my hard cock, slave,” Skinner said shortly. “You’re a bit red here after yesterday, so I’m not going to use you today. This…” he thrust his fingers deep into Mulder’s anus, and twisted them, making his slave yelp, “will have to get used to receiving me on a daily basis, but we have more than enough ground to cover today without wasting time on pleasure.”

 

Mulder’s heart sank at that statement but he didn’t dare say anything. Skinner withdrew his fingers and clicked them again, and Mulder turned around and knelt obediently, facing his Master.

 

“Hands out.” Skinner ordered, dipping his own hands in the water, and wiping them on the washcloth beside the bed. Mulder obeyed, confused.

 

“Why does Master want to inspect my hands?” He asked, as Skinner took hold of his wrists, and examined each finger in detail.

 

“Has my slave forgotten that he’s in deep submission and forbidden to speak until spoken to right now?” Skinner asked.

 

“No, Master,” Mulder sighed. After a shitty night, it looked as if he was in for a shitty day. His nipples throbbed, and his head felt like it was filled with sawdust after his nightmare and lack of sleep. He wanted to scream, and shout, but instead he was forbidden speech altogether. Mulder wondered how the hell he was going to get through this day without bringing his Master’s wrath tumbling down on him like a ton of bricks.

 

Skinner finished his inspection of Mulder’s hands, then examined his head, sifting through his hair as if looking for nits, and bending his ears back to look behind them. Mulder endured this with a growing sense of frustrated humiliation. Skinner tugged at the hair under his arms, and chest, then continued down his belly, stopping to insert his little finger carefully into Mulder’s navel, for no reason Mulder could fathom, then his Master’s firm, capable fingers traveled down his thighs, and examined his feet. Finished with that, Skinner tipped his slave’s face up, and ordered him to open his mouth. Mulder obeyed, flushing to the roots of his dark hair. He felt like a damned horse being examined for purchase! Skinner felt around in his mouth for what seemed like hours, then he let him go, and sat back, regarding his slave with a frown.

 

“Your fingernails are dirty, and a couple of them are broken. Your hair could do with a cut, and you haven’t brushed your teeth this morning,” he said briskly. “To say nothing of the fact that you haven’t prepared yourself properly for my use. You will, in future, ensure that whenever you are in my presence your grooming is impeccable. The same applies for when we return to work, when I will expect you to look your best whenever I see you. Your hair grows quickly?”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder replied sullenly from under lowered lashes.

 

“Then I’ll trim it once a week starting this weekend,” Skinner said.

 

“What?” Mulder looked up, alarmed.

 

“Problem, slave?” Skinner asked.

 

“No, Master…just…I hope Master isn’t going to make my appearance, um, emulate his own,” Mulder said, then regretted it instantly.

 

“You think I’m going to shave your head?” Skinner roared with laughter. “Why would I do that? I love your hair, slave, and, you know, I wouldn’t want it too short, or I wouldn’t be able to do this with it.” He buried his fist deep into Mulder’s locks, and tugged his slave’s head back so that his throat was exposed, then ran a finger down his jaw, and over his Adam’s Apple. Mulder hung in mid-air, trying to keep his hands behind his back, as Skinner licked a line from his collarbone to his chin, finishing up at his slave’s lips, and kissing him firmly. Mulder moaned.

 

“You really like being kissed don’t you?” Skinner grinned, releasing him a few seconds later.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder agreed.

 

“Well, perhaps if you behave yourself, you’ll earn more kisses.” Skinner’s words sounded somewhat ominous to Mulder’s mutinous ears. “Now, it’s time for your morning discipline. We’ll do things differently today. Go and brace yourself against the wall. Hands flat, legs open, butt out. We’ll call this the Grace position shall we?”

 

“The Grace position, Master?” Mulder raised an eyebrow, but he did as he was told, scrambling off the bed, and going to stand in front of the wall, placing his hands on it, and sticking his butt out.

 

“That’s right,” Skinner took up position behind him, and delivered a stinging slap to Mulder’s backside. “As in, ‘for what we are about to receive, may the lord make us truly thankful.’” He punctuated this statement with a series of smacks to Mulder’s exposed ass. Mulder made a face. Really, the scariest factor about this whole Master/slave thing was discovering the true weirdness of Skinner’s sense of humor. It had been bad enough discovering his Master had one at all, but it just kept getting worse with each new corny pun and wisecrack. “Keep that ass out, ready and waiting, slave,” Skinner ordered, as Mulder hopped from foot to foot, trying to ease the pressure of the punishment on his already sore backside.

 

It took all Mulder’s willpower to stay with his hands flat, his legs open, and his ass pushed up to receive the punishment his Master was dishing out. Skinner was as thorough as ever, although he did only use his hand, for which Mulder reallywas truly thankful. He still remembered the vicious sting of that paddle his Master kept in his night-stand.

 

“What are you, Fox?” Skinner asked, the familiar morning litany, slapping his slave firmly on the middle of his ass.

 

“A slave, Master.” Mulder panted, his cock going hard, and immediately lurching into a full erection.

 

“Wrong. Again.” Skinner slapped him hard.

 

“Ow! Um…oh, your slave, Master. I’m your slave!” Mulder yelped.

 

“Good. And what is your status?”

 

“None, Master! I have none. I exist to serve you!” Mulder cried.

 

The spanking came to an abrupt halt, and Skinner turned him around.

 

“Thank me,” he ordered.

 

Mulder swallowed, and nodded, then knelt and kissed his Master’s beautiful toes. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered.

 

He looked up at Skinner’s magnificent, naked body, and felt a wave of serenity wash over him. He blinked back his tears, and kissed his Master’s toes again, and then again, hiding his face from the other man, not wanting him to see how much he loved him. All he could think about was that damn nightmare, and how much losing his Master would hurt. I can’t lose you, Master. I’ll protect you with my life…

 

“All right,” Skinner said softly, soothing Mulder’s hair. “Stand up, little one.”

 

Mulder obeyed, trembling slightly. Skinner pressed his lips softly against Mulder’s forehead, and pulled him close, fondling his buttocks lightly as he pressed him against his body. Mulder’s hard cock got even harder, and Skinner laughed. “You’re amazing, slave,” he murmured, pushing Mulder away from the warm, comforting circle of his arms.

 

“Master?” Mulder frowned.

 

“Like a car ad.” Skinner glanced at Mulder’s erect cock. “From zero to fully erect in less than 10 seconds,” he grinned. “It’s a shame that this,” he squeezed Mulder’s cock, “won’t be racing anywhere for the next few days, but it sure as hell is nice looking at it!” He ran a finger along Mulder’s swollen shaft, and Mulder felt himself start to leak. “Hold it, slave,” Skinner whispered in an unforgivably sexy tone, making Mulder shiver. “You have to learn to come on order,” Skinner told him.

 

“Yes…Master…” Mulder ground out, wishing he could think of anything but the close proximity of his Master to his straining cock right now.

 

“And the cock ring keeps you nice and erect, doesn’t it?” Skinner purred, touching the ring, and the hard flesh around it.

 

“Yes…Master…” Mulder gasped, clenching his fists behind his back, desperately wanting to pump his cock into orgasm.

 

“Does it ache, slave-boy?” Skinner asked, circling him, his warm breath caressing Mulder’s naked flesh.

 

“Yes, Master…it aches…I want to come, Master.” Mulder looked at his Master with a plea in his eyes, but Skinner shook his head.

 

“Not today, not tomorrow, not any day soon, sweetheart,” he replied. “After the party, if you’ve been good all week, then, when I take you to my bed, I might allow you to come. Would you like to come down my throat, slave? Do you think you deserve to have my mouth wrapped around this desperate, needy piece of flesh? Sucking you? Taking your shaft whole and warming it with my tongue?”

 

Mulder closed his eyes, unable to reply.

 

“I’m waiting for an answer, slave!” Skinner’s voice hurt him with its intensity.

 

“Master…I want that so bad, I could weep,” Mulder managed to stammer at last. “Please, Master…please let me come, let me come now…”

 

“No.” Skinner smiled, and flicked a lock of dark hair from his slave’s forehead. “Now, we have work to do. Let’s recap on what you’ve learned so far, Fox. The three positions. When I say them, I want you to assume them – immediately, and without question. First – the Submissive position.”

 

He clicked his fingers, and Mulder knelt, hastily, hands behind his back, shoulders straight, head down.

 

“Good. The Confessional.” Skinner slapped his hands together once, and Mulder immediately went down on all fours, nose pressed against the carpet. “Good – remember the non-verbal signal as well, the single clap. Now, the Grace position.”

 

Skinner slapped his hand against his own thigh, and Mulder got to his feet, and leaned against the wall, butt out, legs spread wide, hands flat.

 

“Very good.” Skinner delivered a quick smack to Mulder’s exposed buttocks, and then turned him around. “I want you to focus all your attention on getting into position whenever I ask you to. I won’t always ask verbally, but my non-verbal signals will always be very clear and direct. Follow them, Fox. I expect you to be alert to them at all times. I’m sure you don’t need to be reminded that you’ll be punished if you’re slow or don’t pay attention.”

 

“No, Master,” Mulder agreed, very sure that he knew what sort of punishment to expect for such lapses.

 

“And we have one more position don’t we?” Skinner moved close, his large body overwhelming, and Mulder’s cock went into a painful spasm against the gold ring. “Wanda.” Skinner said in a sibilant undertone, his voice dark with sexual promise. Mulder glanced around frantically, then knelt down by the bed, bending over it.

 

“First things, first,” Skinner stood over him, forbiddingly. “Before you get into position you will hand me a condom. When you’re bent over, ready, you’ll make access easier for me by holding yourself open with your hands until I’m inside you. Understood?” Mulder felt as if his heart had stopped beating, as he nodded, his cock about ready to burst. “Do it then!” Skinner commanded, and Mulder put his head down, and grabbed his buttocks, holding them open. He flushed as he did it – this was the most unbearably humiliating position he’d ever been in, in his life, and yet his cock was practically perpendicular to his body. Skinner stood there, just looking at him for an eternity, and Mulder waited, wondering if his Master was going to take him despite what he’d said earlier. Then a thought occurred to him.

 

“Master…I don’t have a condom at the moment,” he confessed.

 

“I know that, slave. That’s fine, as I have no intention of using you right now. When you’re naked in the apartment you will ensure that you have a stash of condoms in every room. You will go and get one, present it to me, and then make yourself available. When you’re clothed, and out and about, you will carry a supply of condoms around at all times, in case I should wish to make use of you. You will not talk. When I say this particular word to you, I want you to enter into the deeply submissive mode immediately, and simply present yourself for my use.”

 

“Yes, Master. Is there a signal for the word, Master?” Mulder asked, looking up into his Master’s dark eyes.

 

“Well, I allowed you to pick the word – why don’t you pick the signal too?” Skinner suggested.

 

“Thank you, Master.” Mulder swallowed and racked his brains. Skinner seemed to have taken all the best signals already. “Master could…um…cross his arms?” Mulder suggested.

 

Skinner raised an eyebrow. “I cross my arms a lot during the average day, Fox. Unless you want to spend your entire life on your hands and knees, I’d suggest a different signal if I were you.”

 

“Master could…make two fists and bang them together once?” Mulder offered.

 

“Hmm, that’s verging on Neanderthal. Another suggestion, please, and quickly, slave.”

 

“Um…” Mulder thought frantically. “When I was a kid, we got a puppy, and when we were teaching her to lie down, we went like this.” He held his hand flat, and moved it down towards the floor.

 

“Okay, that works for me.” Skinner looked at his slave thoughtfully, then smiled. “Pup,” he said. “I think I’ll call you that for the rest of the day, pup. After all, I’m going to be training you to walk on the leash, and you make such sweet puppy-dog eyes. I believe the fox is a member of the canine family as well, although personally I’ve always thought them fairly feline. You’re that same nice mix of cat and dog, puppykins.” He tickled Mulder under the chin, and smiled at him fondly.

 

“Yeah, a puppy with a degree from Oxford.” Mulder said, tartly, unable to bear the humiliation of that particular term of endearment. He didn’t usually give his degree a second thought, but there was something too degrading about being reduced to the level of household pet.

 

“You know, I’m sensing that my slave is having some trouble keeping silent today,” Skinner mused. “Is that the case, Fox? If it is, just say, because I have a few tricks that will help you with that little problem.”

 

Mulder looked his Master in the eye, and bit back his smart reply. Skinner was looking very dangerous right now, and he had no wish to become acquainted with any of his Master’s ‘little tricks’. He had a feeling that they were likely to be either very painful, very humiliating, or both.

 

“No, Master.” He bowed his head.

 

“You’re sure you don’t want my help, pup?” Skinner fondled Mulder’s ears affectionately.

 

“No, Master. I promise I’ll try harder,” Mulder whispered.

 

“Good, pup. You know, I think that we should consider getting you your own kennel. What do you say to that, puppykins?”

 

“A kennel?” Mulder echoed faintly.

 

“Yes, a kennel. For the puppy to sleep in.” Skinner grinned.

 

Mulder closed his eyes, and swallowed, then opened them again. He had a sudden mental image of himself naked, his long limbs arranged awkwardly in a kennel, and a thick dog’s collar around his neck with the name PUPPYKINS written on it.

 

“Whatever pleases Master,” he whispered, drowning in his Master’s dark, brown-eyed gaze.

 

“Good puppy.” Skinner patted his head. “I think we’ll keep this theme for a while. It might help you with the problems you’re clearly having with obedience today. Let’s give the puppy a good wash, and then feed him, shall we?” Skinner grinned, cuffing Mulder lightly around the head, and then shooing him in the direction of the bathroom.

 

The shower was business-like; Skinner had forbidden Mulder to touch him, so he just watched, miserably, as his Master soaped himself down then handed the soap to Mulder. His Master didn’t even allow his slave to help him get dressed, so instead Mulder had to kneel in Submissive mode, his eyes cast down so he couldn’t even enjoy the sight of his Master pulling on his jeans and tee shirt.

 

If that was bad, breakfast was worse. Mulder knelt by the table, expecting to serve his Master as he had the previous day, but again, Skinner neatly circumvented his expectations, clicking his fingers instead towards the corner. Mulder watched surreptitiously, from under lowered eyelids, as Skinner made some oatmeal, then placed the bowl on the floor in front of him. Mulder looked up at him, horrified.

 

“Breakfast, pup!” Skinner grinned. He seated himself at the table, and immersed himself in the newspaper.

 

“Um, Master hasn’t given me a spoon,” Mulder pointed out.

 

“That’s right, pup, Master hasn’t.” Skinner didn’t even look up, his intent obvious.

 

Mulder sighed loudly and tragically, then hastily lowered his face to the bowl as Skinner looked at him warningly. It wasn’t easy, dipping his tongue in the oatmeal, but he managed to consume most of it, although not before thoroughly decorating his face with the creamy mixture. When he’d finished, Skinner put a couple of slices of toast on a plate in front of him. “No hands,” his Master warned, and Mulder shot him a look of pure malice.

 

“Problem?” Skinner asked mildly.

 

“No, Master.” Mulder swallowed down his reply, and picked up a slice of the toast with his teeth, somehow managing to get a bite of it.

 

“Good, make sure you finish it all up.” Skinner patted him on the head and returned to the table.

 

With breakfast over, and his face given a brisk wipe with a cloth, Skinner announced that it was time his puppy learned to walk to heel. Mulder felt his stomach flip, and his nipples started to ache before they’d even begun. He followed Skinner up the stairs, and into the Playroom. It looked totally different to the previous day. Then it had been so nice, and warm, decorated by candles, and today – well today it was a mess. There was wax on the floor, implements strewn around, and the remains of the piercing operation on the table.

 

“Looks like you have some clearing up to do,” Skinner glanced at his slave. “I think this is the perfect opportunity to train you to the leash.” He clicked his fingers, and Mulder knelt immediately, watching as his Master went over to a cupboard, and returned a few seconds later with a gold chain, and a leather lead.

 

“Shoulders straighter – that’s right.” Skinner clipped the ends of the short gold chain to each of his nipple rings. “Oh, that’s nice,” Skinner smiled, opening the cupboard door so that Mulder could see his reflection in the mirror. “Look up, slave – there, don’t you look good with this piece of decoration?”

 

Mulder considered himself for a moment. He did look kind of cute, in a slave-boy way, with the gold chain stretched in a loose semi-circle between his nipples. The chain was gossamer light, and didn’t tug on the healing flesh.

 

“Yes, Master.” He smiled up at the other man.

 

“Sweet pup!” Skinner laughed, and then he unwound the long, leather leash, and clipped that onto the gold chain, midway between the two nipples. “Now, there’s no reason why this should be painful,” his Master told him, “as long as you remain alert at all times, and concentrate on my every signal, and move. I have no intention of causing you any distress or discomfort during your leash training – if that happens, it’ll be because you aren’t paying attention. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder gulped, quivering slightly at the thought of any pull on his tender nipples.

 

“All right – let’s take this slowly. I’ll explain the rules, and then I’ll lead you around the room. You can clear up gradually as you go. Firstly – whenever you’re on the leash you’ll walk to heel. There’s no exception to this rule. When I’m walking, you’ll walk one step behind me.” Skinner started to walk, and Mulder followed him, making sure he kept exactly one step behind. He didn’t allow his Master to get any further ahead than that, for fear of creating a pull on his sensitive nipples. Skinner took him on a tour of the room, and then stopped beside the disciplinary implements. Mulder stopped immediately behind him.

 

“Okay, rule number two. Whenever I stop – you kneel.” Skinner clicked his fingers and Mulder immediately sank to his knees. The leash stayed loose between them. “Very good,” Skinner bent down and kissed his slave soundly on the lips. “Well done, pup. Now, I want you to pick these implements up, and return each item to its proper place in the cupboard. Take them one at a time – and pup?” Skinner looked down into his slave’s eager eyes. “There’s no need for me to accompany you. When I send you on errands, I’ll place the lead in your mouth so it doesn’t trail. Open for me.” Mulder opened his mouth obligingly, and Skinner slipped the leather between his lips. “I don’t want to see any bite marks,” Skinner warned. “Hold it under your tongue – that’s right.” Mulder picked up the rubber tawse and took it to the cupboard, then returned and reached for the sleek black paddle.

 

“Not that.” Skinner plucked it out of his hands. “We’ll keep that out for now. Let’s just call it my doggy paddle shall we?” He grinned maliciously at his own joke. Mulder sighed, and rolled his eyes. Another bad pun – he was beginning to wonder if they weren’t more of a torment than all the discipline and slave training put together.

 

It took them a couple of hours intensive work to clear up the room, with Mulder walking to the leash the entire time, every nerve fiber in his body concentrating on following his Master, and obeying his every command – non-verbal as well as verbal. Skinner tested him several times on each position, and introduced some new commands.

 

“Fetch.” Skinner pointed at the paddle he’d left on the throne, and Mulder walked over obediently, picked it up in his mouth, and walked back. Then he knelt at his Master’s feet, and offered the paddle to him. “Good pup.” Skinner fondled his head, and Mulder surprised himself by practically panting with appreciation for the caress, and rubbing his head against his Master’s leg.

 

“When I issue the ‘stay’ command, you’ll remain put, wherever you are, until I come back for you. Understood?” Skinner looked down into his slave’s willing hazel eyes, and Mulder nodded, uncertainly.

 

“Even at work, Master?” He asked, having a vision of waiting in meeting rooms, or outside Skinner’s office for hours on end while Skinner was off elsewhere, leaving him bored.

 

“Fox – do you remember the terms of your contract?” Skinner frowned down at him.

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder gulped.

 

“Then I think you’ll recall that your obedience is required at all times, not just when you’re naked on the end of my lead,” Skinner said sharply. Mulder nodded, his heart sinking. He didn’t think he liked this ‘stay’ word. Somehow, it seemed to be the very opposite of the ‘ditch’ word, which he was fairly partial to. “In your free time you’ll learn the terms of your contract off by heart,” Skinner informed him tersely. “I expect you to be able to recite them to me when ordered.”

 

“Yes, Master.” It wasn’t that much of a chore; Mulder was pretty sure he already knew the terms of both contracts by heart.

 

Mulder returned all the implements to the cupboard, then knelt beside his Master again, awaiting further instructions. Skinner took the lead out of his mouth, and led him around the room, opening each blind as he went, letting the daylight in. Mulder knelt beside him obediently each time he stopped, and made sure he stayed exactly one step behind him the entire time. It was tiring, concentrating on each minute detail of his Master’s walk, and pretty boring too. Mulder went on automatic. When Skinner reached the end of the row of blinds on one side of the room, he assumed his Master was going to cross the room to the other row of blinds, but instead Skinner wrong-footed him, going in the direction of the cupboards instead. Mulder howled as the leash gave a tiny tug on his nipples, sending shock-waves of pain through his entire body.

 

“Shit, fuck! Shit!” he yelled, stopping immediately.

 

“All right – kneel down.” Skinner crouched in front of him and examined his chest carefully. “No damage caused, but I think you learned a lesson. Don’t try and second guess where I’m going, pup – just follow me.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder sobbed, leaning his head on his Master’s shoulder. Skinner rubbed his back for a moment, then stood up.

 

“Come on, pup, that wasn’t so bad, let’s continue.”

 

“After just having my fucking nipples yanked around? No fucking thanks!” Mulder growled, the aftershock of the tug still reverberating through him. Mulder wasn’t sure what happened next, but before he knew it, he was face down over his Master’s raised knee, and the paddle was being applied liberally to his ass. After four sharp strokes, that took his breath away, he was walked over to the cupboard, and shoved unceremoniously onto his knees. Skinner pulled out a ball gag, and pushed it into his slave’s mouth, fastening it behind his head, with short, angry movements.

 

“That’s better.” Skinner looked down on his gagged slave. “Now, perhaps you’ll lose the attitude.”

 

Mulder stared up at him miserably. The ball gag was large, and it kept his mouth uncomfortably open. He felt tired, sexually frustrated, and humiliated, and now he couldn’t even damn well say so!

 

“You’ll wear that until I see an improvement in you,” Skinner warned, then his expression softened. “The sooner you give in, the easier it’ll be. Now, try harder,” he said, gently fondling his slave’s hair. “Fox?” He tipped Mulder’s chin, and looked directly into his eyes. Mulder nodded, feeling all the fight leave him. He hated this gag, but more than that, he hated himself for fucking up so badly. He wanted his Master to smile at him again, and call him ‘sweetheart’, and kiss him, and most of all, he wanted to sleep in his Master’s bed on Friday night, and if he carried on like this, he knew that wouldn’t happen. He nuzzled his face against Skinner’s knee in a gesture of contrition.

 

“Fox – this is for your own benefit. I want to display you at the party, and I want you to be proud of your slavery, and eager to show off your training, but if I don’t prepare you properly, then you’ll freak out. I told you this week would be hard work.” Skinner looked down on his slave thoughtfully. “You look very tired. Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Fox?”

 

Mulder stared up at his Master miserably. He knew he should tell Skinner that he hadn’t had much sleep the previous night, and he also knew that he should probably tell him about his nightmare, but he just couldn’t. He knew how stupid his worries would sound in the cold light of day apart from anything else, and he also knew that it would be clear he had lied this morning when Skinner had asked him how he’d slept. All these thoughts whizzed through his head, and he came to a decision, and shook his head.

 

“Fine, we’ll continue then.”

 

Skinner picked up the leash again, and started walking. Mulder buried himself in the lesson, the tears pricking at the back of his eyes even while his cock stayed swollen and erect. The idea of being on the end of his Master’s lead was so horny he was permanently hard. He could see himself, naked, walking to heel, straining to obey the slightest change in his Master’s body language. He hated the gag, but in some ways the silence it afforded him was a relief. As he wasn’t able to protest, he had to resign himself to Skinner’s will, and, somewhat to his own surprise, he realized that his Master was right: he was happier when he just gave in, and accepted.

 

By the time the Playroom was tidy again, Mulder had returned to that serene state he’d enjoyed briefly the previous day. He knelt, obediently, as Skinner got the harness out of the cupboard, so lost in a submissive daze that he hardly wondered what was going to happen. Skinner smiled at him.

 

“Stand,” he ordered, and when Mulder obeyed he pulled his slave into a loving hug. “You’ve done well, pup.” He kissed Mulder’s forehead, and held him close, hugging him tightly. Mulder felt as if his entire body had melted into nothing, as he nuzzled into his Master’s chest, burrowing there, loving the attention. Skinner looked down on him fondly. “This gag seems to have done the trick, Fox. Is it uncomfortable?”

 

Mulder nodded vigorously, longing to have the pressure on his aching jaw relaxed. Skinner ran his finger around the sides of the gag, checking it carefully.

 

“It isn’t biting, so I’m going to keep you in it, uncomfortable or not.” Skinner smiled at Mulder’s obvious disappointment at receiving this news. “It’s a punishment, Fox, for your smart mouth – a sore jaw might help you remember to keep it closed in future. Learn from this, and then hopefully I won’t have to gag you too often. You know, Fox…” He tipped Mulder’s chin and gazed into his eyes, “I think that sensory deprivation might be a good way of dealing with you. You clearly have some trust issues, and you find it hard to let go. I need you to trust me implicitly, to give yourself up to my every command, obedient to my every whim. Come with me.”

 

He marched Mulder over to the hoist, buckled him into the harness, and then blindfolded him. Mulder took a deep breath around the gag.

 

“I’m not going to do anything to hurt you – I won’t let you come but this will be entirely pleasurable. I want you to relax, and trust me, without being able to see what I’m doing,” Skinner said. “If you’re in real distress, shake your head, but I expect it to be genuine distress or there’ll be trouble. Understood?”

 

Mulder nodded, and a few seconds later he gave a gasp as his feet disappeared from under him, and he was suspended in mid-air.

 

Mulder felt strangely dislocated from the world, wrapped up in black silence, his body hanging in space. He relaxed into his bonds. Skinner hadn’t put him in tight bondage at any point during his slavery so far, and Mulder had never yearned for it before, but for the first time, he felt as if he’d enjoy it, and wanted to try it. Maybe he would ask his Master for that, next time he was offered a reward.

 

He lay in mid-air for a long time, suspended in nothingness, every part of his body supported by the harness. He couldn’t see Skinner, and the big man was being very quiet. Mulder strained his ears to hear where his Master was, but after several long minutes he relaxed his vigilance, and just gave himself up to the sensation. Therefore, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a light touch on his abdomen.

 

“Easy,” Skinner’s voice soothed. “I’m going to play this particular game with you every day until Friday. “There’s only one rule – you mustn’t move. Not a muscle. It doesn’t matter what I do to you, you must stay completely still. It’s important – I have the paddle here,” he touched it against Mulder’s thigh, “if you move, you’ll get a lick from it.”

 

Mulder relaxed again, determined to obey. He felt what must have been Skinner’s fingertips, trailing over his chest, and down to his cock, which leapt in response.

 

“Well, I’ll forgive you for that, as it’s clear you don’t have any control over this part of your anatomy,” Skinner said with a wry chuckle.

 

His fingers moved on, just stroking gently, touching every part of Mulder’s body – his hair, his neck, his throat, even his sore nipples. Mulder didn’t move – he didn’t even flinch. He just allowed it all to happen. This was nice, this gentle stroking. “I’m doing this for a reason. By Friday, I need you to be able to keep absolutely still. I’m not telling you why,” Skinner whispered, his fingernails continuing that light, scratching caress.

 

Mulder barely heard him – his whole body was sinking into a state of bliss. He was floating away, on a haze of…Mulder jerked into the air as Skinner’s fingers tickled under his armpit, and he was immediately rewarded by a slap from the paddle on his butt. He gave a muffled “oomph”, and squirmed in his bonds.

 

“Relax…breathe through your nose,” Skinner advised.

 

His fingernails continued gently scraping at Mulder’s armpits, and it was all Mulder could do not to wriggle. He started to break out into a sweat, wishing Skinner would touch him anywhere but there.

 

“You have to get used to this,” Skinner told him, “relax.”

 

He delivered another firm swat to Mulder’s butt as Mulder twisted away from the tickling fingers. Mulder couldn’t think of one single reason why it was important he had to get used to such agony, except possibly to satisfy his Master’s more sadistic impulses, and he felt somewhat aggrieved as the paddle kept thwacking against his ass. I’m trying, dammit!Finally, Skinner turned his attention to Mulder’s balls, teasing them unmercifully, and tugging on his pubic hair. Mulder began to relax again – he wasn’t so ticklish here, and soon he was transported away on that haze of serenity again.

 

There was a pause, and he felt Skinner turn him over, onto his front, and refasten him. He hung there, in the darkness, and silence, his jaw aching in earnest around the ball gag. Skinner’s fingertips scraped over his legs, up and down, down and up, and then played around his butt for a while, just lightly caressing him. He didn’t push his fingers inside Mulder’s ass, just played with the hair on his butt, tweaking it. Mulder moaned, and moved, wanting his Master’s fingers inside him, and was immediately rewarded by a hard smack from the paddle. He gave in, and surrendered to the stroking. It was delicious – soothing without being overtly erotic. Just what he needed to relax him after his tense day.

 

Mulder enjoyed this so much that at some point he tuned out completely. The silence, the way the gag denied him a voice, focusing him inwards, the darkness…it all contributed to his blissful mood. Mulder gave himself up to the moment, and the next thing he knew Skinner was laughing as he took the blindfold off his slave.

 

“I think someone fell asleep,” Skinner grinned, kissing his slave fondly. “What’s the matter, pup – didn’t I send you to bed early enough last night?” He lowered Mulder to the ground, and untied him, before instructing him to kneel.

 

“How’s your jaw holding up?”

 

Skinner fondled the side of Mulder’s face, checking the straps again. Mulder looked up at him eagerly. His jaw muscles ached so much, he was sure he couldn’t stand having the ball gag in his mouth for one more second.

 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Skinner asked. Mulder nodded enthusiastically. “So, when I take this out, you’ll be respectful, courteous, and obedient?” Skinner asked. Mulder nodded again. “I’m glad to hear it. However…” Mulder’s heart sank. “Before I remove it, I just want to warn you that there are worse punishments than this for a smart mouth.” He opened the cupboard. “The ball gag you’re wearing is pretty small. I save this one for when I’m really pissed.” He pulled out the most enormous ball gag Mulder had ever laid eyes on. He blinked, horror registering in his eyes. He already felt as if he had a giant bomb in his mouth – he had no wish to experience its big brother. “I can see that you’re duly impressed,” Skinner chuckled. “And let’s not forget, that good, old-fashioned favorite – mouth washing. There’s some hard soap in the bathroom – I find that more effective than the liquid variety. There’s nothing like a good scraping around the teeth to really drum the message home. I always choose a quick foaming variety – guaranteed to clean the most filthy of mouths!” He laughed at Mulder’s look of complete outrage, and undid his slave’s gag, easing it out of his slave’s mouth. Mulder moved his jaw cautiously, relieving the ache.

 

“Thank you, Master,” he leaned forward and kissed Skinner’s feet devotedly. “And I’m sorry for swearing at you, Master. Thank you for taking the time and trouble to correct me.”

 

“You’re welcome, pup. You see, you really do have the prettiest manners when you try.” Skinner smiled fondly. “Now, you can spot me while I work out, and do a small work out yourself, then we can eat. After that – I have some new lessons I want you to practice, and then it’s bed for you, I think.”

 

Mulder spent the next few hours wondering what the ‘new lessons’ would be. After they’d eaten, Skinner handed him a packet of balloons, some shaving cream, and a cutthroat razor. Mulder looked at them in surprise, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with them.

 

“Blow up a balloon, cover it in shaving foam, and then give it a nice, clean, shave,” Skinner instructed him.

 

“Can I ask why, Master?” Mulder ventured, thinking the whole thing sounded like a giant waste of time.

 

“No, but I’ll tell you anyway. I like to have a good, clean shave once a week – slow and thorough. It will be your job to perform that task, but I’m not letting you anywhere near my throat with a razor until I’m sure you can do it without cutting me.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder gulped, suddenly seeing the sense in the preparation, even though he knew he was going to feel stupid shaving a balloon.

 

He set to work, while Skinner sat down on the couch, leafing through the sports section of the paper. Mulder exploded 7 balloons in all, showering himself in shaving foam on each occasion.

 

“I can see this is going to take a lot of practice,” Skinner observed, surveying the mess of foam and balloon remnants and a rather bedraggled slave an hour or so later. “An hour a day until Sunday, Fox. Don’t forget – if I do, then remind me. My face isn’t going anywhere near your razor until you can shave 3 balloons in front of me without killing them.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder sighed, wondering why the very idea of shaving his Master sent a delicious warmth through his body.

 

“Sundays are when I expect a full service,” Skinner tickled him under the chin. “You’ll wait on me in the bath, dry me, shave me, give me a massage…talking of which, did you call Clark?”

 

“No, Master. I forgot.” Mulder admitted.

 

“Go and do it now – and wash yourself down. Then come back here, and keep that smart mouth of yours occupied putting condoms on this dildo.” He placed the object on the table. “That’s another skill I want you to have in your repertoire, slave. Talking of skills,” he looked at Mulder thoughtfully, “before you go to bed you can serve me with your mouth – you can demonstrate what you’ve learned with the dildo, and I want to help you brush up on your oral techniques.”

 

Mulder stared at his Master resentfully for a while, but turned on his heel and scurried to the ‘phone when Skinner took a threatening step towards him. First he doesn’t like the way I massage, then my hair’s too long, now he doesn’t like the way I give head. Fuck, what the hell does the miserable bastard like? He aimed a kick at the passing Wanda with his bare foot, only to succeed on stubbing his toe on the wall, which didn’t help his mood. He made the call, then returned to address himself to the task of putting condoms on the dildo using only his mouth. This was almost as stupid as the balloon shaving, and Mulder grew tired of it. His jaw ached, and the whole exercise was ridiculous. What possible difference was there to Skinner whether he put his own condom on, or made Mulder twist himself into contortions doing it using his mouth?

 

“Problems, pup?” Skinner asked from the couch, hearing his loud and dramatic sigh.

 

“I can’t do this.” Mulder pouted. “And it’s ridiculous. Look, I have…”

 

“A degree from Oxford, yes, I know.” Skinner nodded. “You’re also a talented profiler, an excellent, if ill-disciplined agent, and my slave. The last part of that description is the only one I’m interested in right now, so get cracking.” He turned his attention tersely back to his paper. Mulder sat there for a moment, staring at his Master resentfully, and then turned back to his task with a sigh. It didn’t help that his jaw still ached from the ball gag incident earlier.

 

After another half an hour, Skinner called him over, and for a demonstration of what he’d been practicing. Mulder knelt in front of his Master, while Skinner opened his jeans, and stroked himself into an erection.

 

“Hands behind your back, pup. Serve me with your mouth.”

 

Skinner placed the condom in Mulder’s mouth, and the younger man leaned forward, and carefully tried to ease it into place. He failed.

 

“One more try. If you don’t get this right, then you can spend another hour practicing before bed, pup.” Skinner pulled on Mulder’s ear to punctuate this statement, and his slave nodded, glumly. He put all his effort into the next one, and managed to get it almost into place before it slid off with a sloppy, plopping sound. “Not bad, but you clearly still need practice. You can take the dildo and condoms to your bedroom. I won’t check up on you, but if you still can’t manage this the next time I ask you, then there’ll be punishment,” Skinner told him.

 

“It’s not fucking easy!” Mulder protested, his hackles rising. Skinner grabbed his hair, and thrust his hard cock into Mulder’s mouth, holding him still.

 

“Right – I’ve just about had enough of your opinions today. I think this might be a good way of keeping you quiet.”

 

Skinner held Mulder’s head, and thrust back and forth into his slave’s mouth. Mulder opened his eyes wide – he was used to being the one giving oral sex, not having his mouth so comprehensively fucked in this way. He struggled to keep his throat open, and his gag reflex under control, as Skinner pushed back and forth in his mouth.

 

“Now, you give head pretty well, slave-boy, but you can still learn a thing or two,” Skinner told him brusquely between thrusts. “In the next few days I want you to try varying your technique, and experimenting with a few new things. In other words – surprise me. It’s not enough to just deliver the same thing each day. I want variety. I want to be the proud owner of the slave that gives the best head in this city, hell, in this whole damn country. Think you’re up to that?” He eased himself out a little way, and Mulder nodded, his cock hardening. He really loved it when Skinner got forceful with him – the feeling of being totally dominated by someone bigger, stronger, and more powerful than himself just did it for him, and the mouth-fuck was a giant turn on. He lowered his eyes, and sucked Skinner’s hard cock enthusiastically, until the big man came down his throat.

 

“Good.” Skinner fondled Mulder’s hair affectionately. “Now, you’ve been tired and cranky all day. Go to bed, slave, and wake up in a more willing mood tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder knelt there for a moment.

 

“Is there something else?” Skinner demanded.

 

“Could…Master kiss me?” He asked, hesitantly. He was dreading what dreams the night would bring, and had no wish to hurry off to bed. Skinner looked at him coolly.

 

“Kisses have to be earned. Have you earned one tonight, pup?” he asked.

 

Mulder sighed, and looked down. “No, Master,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder tomorrow.”

 

He was surprised when Skinner tipped up his chin, and planted a sweet, tender kiss on his lips. He moaned, opening his mouth for more, but a tongue wasn’t forthcoming. “You can have that on account,” Skinner murmured, squeezing his slave’s naked buttock. “Before you go, slave.” He held up the chastity belt. Mulder sighed.

 

Mulder tried to avoid sleep for as long as possible. He went over the day’s events, and was just about to drop off, when a chilling thought occurred to him. Why was Skinner insisting that he got so good at giving oral sex? Was it because he wanted to show off his skills at the party on Friday? Mulder shuddered. He had been forced to give oral sex to strangers before, with other tops, as an extreme demonstration of his submission but somehow, this time, it felt different. It would be the ultimate humiliation, and usually he got off on that, but…but…he heard a small voice deep inside: he didn’t want to know that Skinner felt so little jealousy, that he could just stand by and watch Mulder serve another top. He wanted Skinner to become enraged at the thought of anyone else enjoying his services – he wanted a degree of exclusivity that he knew he was in no position to ask for. Mulder tossed and turned, worrying about it for an hour or so. He didn’t know that was what Skinner intended, but it was a reasonable assumption to make, wasn’t it?

 

Skinner’s bedroom was empty when Mulder pushed the door open the following morning. He glanced around, but the only occupant in the bed was the green eyed Wanda. He checked in the bathroom but there was no sign of his Master. Feeling anxious, he began checking the whole apartment, room by room, then the upstairs one. He was starting to feel worried now. Skinner hadn’t told him he’d be going anywhere this morning…Mulder began to run, looking under beds, and in closets, chasing around in circles like a dog pursuing its own tail. Outside, it got darker and darker, until he couldn’t see anything. “Master!” He yelled. “Skinner! Where are you?” Finally, he gave up, and just sat, alone in the dark, by his Master’s bed, clutching one of his lost Master’s crisply ironed shirts to his chest, and drinking in the scent of him, sobbing his heart out…

 

Mulder woke up, still shaking, exhausted by his dream. He sat in bed for a long time, but he knew he couldn’t stay there. The need to check that Skinner hadn’t really disappeared was overwhelming, and he grabbed his pillow and blanket as he had the previous night, then picked up his gun just in case his Master needed protecting, and slipped silently down the stairs.

 

Wanda didn’t even look at him as he tiptoed into the room. Mulder’s heart skipped a beat – Skinner was there, spreadeagled as usual. He couldn’t resist tiptoeing closer, and kneeling for a moment beside his Master, in silent worship. Then he leaned forward and laid the merest whisper of a kiss on Skinner’s thumb, before going to lie down on the floor at the foot of his Master’s bed. As he had the previous night, he fell asleep immediately, the tension leaving his face as soon as his head hit the pillow. Here he was not only safe; he could be of service. If anyone came to hurt his Master, he could protect him, with his gun, and every last drop of blood in his body.

 

A bright light shone into Mulder’s dreams a few hours later.

 

“Fuck – get away, get away from the window!” he yelled, disorientated. He sat up, reaching for the gun under his pillow, only to find his wrist grasped firmly, and twisted behind his back.

 

“Slowly…it’s only me,” Skinner said, disarming him. Mulder blinked, and then let out a groan. The clock beside Skinner’s bed read 6:38. “Now, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’re doing here?” Skinner asked, placing the gun out of his reach, and taking hold of Mulder’s other wrist, keeping both Mulder’s arms firmly at his side. Mulder swallowed, and looked up into his Master’s dark eyes.

 

“I couldn’t sleep, Master,” he admitted.

 

“Did you sleep last night?” Skinner asked.

 

“No, Master,” Mulder began to tremble.

 

“Did you lie to me about that?” Skinner demanded.

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder’s trembling got worse. Skinner pulled the quilt off his bed, and sat down on the floor behind his slave, wrapping them both in it. He pulled Mulder back so that his shoulders were resting against his Master’s chest.

 

“So you thought you’d come down here and sleep in my room without permission?” Skinner continued.

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder said miserably.

 

“With a gun?”

 

Mulder knew without looking that Skinner had that raised eyebrow expression. “Yes,” he replied, not sure just how bad this was going to get, but feeling pretty certain that he was up to his neck in shit.

 

“Okay, I’m going to ask this, although I’m sure I’ll regret it – the gun, Fox. Why?”

 

“Oh, you know, in case you found me, and got so angry I had to defend myself,” he wisecracked. This was a bad move. Skinner’s body stiffened.

 

“All right. It’s early, and I was on my way to the bathroom when I tripped over you, so, as you’re clearly not in any mood to be co-operative, I think I’ll continue just as I would have done.” Skinner got up, and Mulder immediately regretted the loss of his Master’s warm body, and his comfortable quilt, which was whisked away and replaced on the bed. “I told you I want your honesty, Fox,” Skinner told him firmly.

 

“Are you going to punish me?” Mulder couldn’t keep the quaver out of his voice.

 

“Yes, I am – in a way that will cause me the least inconvenience. I’m going back to bed, slave. I want you to use the next couple of hours to think very carefully about this honesty issue. You can do that from this position.”

 

He moved quickly, dragging Mulder to his feet, and over to face the wall. “That’s nearly two hours corner time you’ve bought yourself, slave. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you in that time. You can go downstairs at 8:45 and get me my coffee. When you come back, I’m going to want a full explanation. Think very carefully about it,” Skinner hissed into his ear.

 

Mulder bit on his lip. He didn’t dare defy his Master, but two hours! Standing, facing the wall, while his Master slept in his nice, warm, comfy bed. Mulder heard Skinner return from the bathroom, and walk towards the bed. He half turned his head.

 

“Master, I’m…” he began.

 

Skinner froze him with a look. “Face back towards the wall. You had your chance, Fox. Now you can think about how you blew it, and how you’re going to make up for that in the morning.” He picked up the quilt, and slipped under it. “Fox – trust isn’t just about the things I do to your body in the Playroom. It’s about your heart and mind too. Give me those and the rest will follow,” he said softly, then he turned out the light, and left Mulder standing there.

 

It was a long two hours, and cold too. Mulder didn’t dare move in case Skinner was still awake, so he stood, as silently as he could, resting his forehead on the wall, churning things over in his mind.

 

He felt as if there were two of him. There was Mulder, the FBI agent, who was preoccupied by his quest, who was bright and intelligent, and haunted by nightmares, and there was Fox, who wanted nothing more than to give it all up, and kneel at his Master’s feet. So far, he had gone as willingly as he was able down this path. He knew he wanted it – it had been his choice to sign himself into slavery. Skinner was asking him for more than he could give though. He was looking beyond Fox, to Mulder, and he wanted to have them both. He wanted to see into the darkest recesses of Mulder’s psyche, at what made him tick, and to know even his darkest nightmares. Mulder wasn’t sure that he could give him that. He took a deep breath. This was just the beginning. Next week, when they returned to work, he could see the difficulties would start in earnest. No wonder Skinner was putting him through this intensive training program. Mulder closed his eyes, and wondered what the hell he was going to tell his Master in the morning.

 

Mulder slipped out, as he had been ordered, at 8:45, and grabbed the paper. He was almost distracted from his problems as he read that the Red Sox were playing the Yankees for the American League title that evening. He wondered if there was any chance in hell that Skinner would let him watch it.

 

Skinner was already sitting up in bed when Mulder returned.

 

“Master is awake,” he murmured, putting the coffee down on the night-stand.

 

“Master had an interrupted night,” Skinner scowled.

 

“Sorry, Master.” Mulder knelt down, wretched, beside the bed. “I think…Master might want to give up on me,” he said, surprising himself. “I think…maybe I’m not trainable, Master.”

 

He was surprised when Skinner broke into a long, deep laugh. Mulder looked up, wide-eyed.

 

“I’m sure you’d like to believe that, Fox. It’d save you from having to reveal anything about yourself. You could just duck out of this, as you’ve done before whenever anyone has gotten too close. Well, tough luck, sweetheart. This is it. There’s no escaping this one. You’re mine, and that’s the way it’s going to stay, however hard it damn well gets for you. Now get up on this bed, and into the Confessional position.”

 

He patted the empty space on the bed beside him. Mulder hesitated, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, combined with a gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Do I have to come and get you?” Skinner asked dangerously. “If I do, your butt will pay for it.”

 

Mulder was galvanized into immediate action. His butt had been on the receiving end of enough spankings in the past few days. He knelt beside his Master, tucked his whole body neatly into position, and placed his nose on the quilt, eyes closed. He was surprised when Skinner’s hand came down gently on his exposed back, stroking him.

 

“All right, little one. Tell me why you were sleeping on my floor last night,” Skinner asked softly.

 

“I couldn’t sleep, Master. I have…nightmares. It isn’t a recent thing,” Mulder admitted.

 

“But you didn’t feel the need to tell me before?” Skinner asked.

 

“I…I didn’t think it was relevant, Master,” Mulder whispered.

 

“Something that affects my slave’s well-being, and you didn’t think it was relevant,” Skinner echoed, in a tone of disbelief. “Well, in future, slave, let me decide what’s relevant and what isn’t.”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

Skinner’s hand continued it’s slow caress up and down Mulder’s spine. “Keep going,” he ordered. “What do you normally do when you have these nightmares?”

 

“I watch TV, Master,” Mulder said, “and sometimes I go out for a run.”

 

“I see. Well, you can’t run without my permission, but you have a television in your room. Did you try that?” Skinner asked, his fingers straying into Mulder’s hair, stroking him softly, like a cat.

 

“No, Master,” Mulder said.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it doesn’t work. I just lie awake all night, watching. Sometimes it takes ages to fall asleep again. Sometimes…I just don’t.”

 

“But you didn’t even try – why?

 

“I don’t know,” Mulder said the lie before he was even aware of it. He did know. He knew he couldn’t have just stayed in his room watching TV when his nightmares had been about Skinner. The urge to check that his Master was safe had been too strong for him to resist.

 

“What were your nightmares about, little one?” Skinner asked gently.

 

Mulder started to rock back and forth. He hated being perceived as weak, or emotionally needy. Even in his submission he tried to keep his strength, the strength that had kept him going for so long through innumerable ordeals. He didn’t need his tops – emotionally any way. He just needed what they could give him. If he let them get close it would end up like…Phoebe.

 

“My nightmares are usually about my sister, Master, or Scully. About them being abducted. About…not being able to help them.” Mulder told the half-truth, curling himself up even tighter in the semi-fetal position and rocking with a vengeance now. And about you, about losing you, Master…

 

“Usually?” Skinner picked up on the detail. “Was that what they were about last night?”

 

“Very similar, Master, yes,” Mulder whispered. There was a long silence during which he hoped Skinner wouldn’t delve any further or he knew he would tell the other man an outright lie.

 

“All right. Come here.” Skinner held out his arms, and Mulder looked up in relief, and crawled into them eagerly. He found himself settling against his Master’s chest, clinging on for dear life. There was something so reassuring about the scent, and strength of his Master, about his muscular arms, and powerful body. It’s just a physical thing, not any big emotional deal, he told himself, as he closed his eyes and allowed his Master to kiss his forehead.

 

“Is there anything else?” Skinner asked.

 

Mulder didn’t want to lie, but somehow, the truth was beyond him. “No, Master,” he whispered.

 

“All right.” Skinner pushed him back so that he could look into his eyes. “I won’t have my slave distressed, and tired during the day. It’ll interfere with your training, and your ability to serve me, apart from anything else, but I also take the terms of my contract very seriously. Quote me clause 2 of the Master Contract, slave.”

 

Mulder thought about it for a moment, then opened his mouth.

 

“I will provide the physical and emotional necessities of life for my slave, and he will know my love as I choose for him to know it,” he gabbled.

 

“I think sleep counts as a physical necessity,” Skinner commented. “Now, as far as I’m concerned, being allowed to sleep on my floor, is just one step down from allowing my slave to sleep in my bed. In other words – it’s something that I would usually make you earn. However, I have an idea, pup, based on our discussion about the kennel yesterday.”

 

He got up, and pulled on his robe, clicking his fingers for Mulder to kneel in the submissive position.

 

“Stay,” he ordered. Mulder did as he was told, and Skinner returned a few minutes later, bearing a long length of chain. He fastened one end of it to one of the legs at the foot of the bed, then beckoned his slave over. “In future, if you have a nightmare, and feel that you need to sleep in my room, you can. However – if you do, you must sleep chained to the foot of the bed, in bondage. Please try to ensure you don’t wake me as well. Just clip this,” he held up the end of the chain, “to your collar. It’s a locking mechanism – I’ll be the only one with a key to it. So, you should think very hard about whether to come down here. If you do, you’ll be chained for the rest of the night, unable to use the bathroom, or to move around much.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder nodded, feeling relieved. He didn’t mind about being chained – in fact, his cock told him that he rather liked the idea. It was just so good to know that he could spend the night here without worrying about the consequences.

 

“And if I find you here in the morning, I’ll expect a full account of what brought you here,” Skinner warned. Mulder crossed his fingers behind his back, and nodded.

 

“All right – I’ll do a quick inspection and then we should get moving. I want you to do a thorough work out in the gym this morning.” Skinner took off his robe, and headed for the shower.

 

“Doesn’t Master want…” Mulder gestured to Skinner’s cock.

 

“No – I’m going to be using you in the shower. Get a move on.” Skinner slapped Mulder’s butt and his slave scrambled quickly for the door.

 

Skinner inspected his slave briefly, and removed his chastity belt, before stepping into the shower. He allowed his slave to soap him thoroughly, and then he told him to get into the Grace position. Mulder obeyed, placing his hands flat against the wall. Skinner soaped his fingers and finger-fucked his slave for several minutes, then withdrew. Mulder watched out of the corner of his eye, as Skinner unhooked the long back scrubbing brush from the shower rail.

 

“Oh shit,” he murmured.

 

“I told you, slave, morning discipline is a given. Accept.” Skinner warned.

 

“Yes, Master,” he gasped, putting his head back, the water flowing down his face. The brush packed an almighty whack as it slapped against his buttocks. Wet skin always hurt more than dry, and the brush was as big and hard as any paddle, although Skinner was swinging it lightly on his already tenderized flesh.

 

“What are you?” Skinner asked.

 

“Your slave, Master,” Mulder replied automatically, knowing the litany by heart now.

 

“And your status?”

 

“I have none, Master, I exist to serve you,” Mulder panted, as the brush made painful contact with his upturned butt several times.

 

“Who does your body belong to?” Skinner demanded.

 

“OW! You, you, Master,” Mulder whimpered.

 

“And how can I use you?” Skinner asked.

 

“Anyway you like. Unnnnhh! Ow!”

 

“That’s just what I intend to do.”

 

Skinner threw the brush down, and Mulder heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped. He gasped out loud as his Master grabbed his sore buttocks, and entered him swiftly, and smoothly. “Push your butt out, slave. More,” Skinner squeezed Mulder’s red ass, making his slave’s internal muscles contract around his hard cock, milking him. Mulder struggled to push his butt out, gasping as Skinner’s cock slid home. His Master’s hands slipped around, and lightly touched his slave’s sore nipples, making Mulder yelp. His cock, already hard, went as straight as a ramrod.

 

“Master…please…” he whimpered, as Skinner continued that gossamer light touch on his nipples.

 

“Quiet, slave. Accept me.” Skinner grabbed Mulder’s hips and thrust into him with more urgency. It took all Mulder’s strength to keep in position as Skinner pounded into him, over and over again, his wet hands fondling Mulder’s entire body, sometimes stroking, sometimes pinching, sometimes making the lightest contact with his nipples, or squeezing his tender ass, before finally reaching climax. He stood, covering his slave’s body with his own for several minutes, while their breathing returned to normal, and then he withdrew, and disposed of the condom. He returned to the shower, and turned his slave around.

 

“Good boy.” He kissed Mulder firmly on the lips, plundering his slave’s mouth with his tongue, and Mulder opened up, and went weak at the knees, holding onto this Master’s shoulders for dear life.

 

“Please…” he found himself rubbing up against Skinner’s groin, trying to achieve the climax that was always just out of reach.

 

“Naughty.” Skinner stepped out of the shower, flicking the switch to cold as he left. “You know the drill. You can stay there until that,” Skinner pointed at Mulder’s erection, “has gone down.”

 

Skinner took Mulder through the rest of the day at such breakneck speed that his slave barely had time to remember his broken night. He was given a thorough work out in the gym, whisked up the Playroom for an hour’s light stroking in the harness, then ordered to spend another hour shaving balloons. After that, it was time to wash the brunch dishes. Mulder approached the full sink and noticed Wanda nosing around under the faucet.

 

“Stupid cat,” he murmured. “You have a bowl of water, Madam. On the floor, which, incidentally, is where you belong.” Wanda didn’t take any notice of him, she just continued licking moisture from the faucet. Mulder glanced over his shoulder, but Skinner was in the other room. With a grin of evil delight, Mulder reached out, and snapped the faucet on quickly. Wanda jumped, as the deluge consumed her, and scurried away, her tail twitching angrily and one damp ear flicking back and forth. It was at that moment that Skinner came into the kitchen.

 

“Not even started yet?” Skinner raised an eyebrow. “Hurry up, Fox. I want you to join me on the couch.” He picked Wanda up absently, and kissed her, then paused. “Fox – Wanda has a wet ear,” he commented.

 

“Does she, Master?” Mulder busied himself clearing up, plunging his hands in the soapy water.

 

“Do you know anything about that?” Skinner asked ominously.

 

“No, Master,” Mulder gave a seraphic smile, his hazel eyes meeting Wanda’s. “Maybe she dunked it in her water bowl by mistake, Master,” Mulder commented neutrally.

 

Skinner’s eyes narrowed and he regarded his slave thoughtfully. “Maybe she did,” he murmured, taking Wanda with him back to the other room. “Come on, little darling,” he crooned as he went. “Let me take you away from the nasty slave.”

 

Mulder made a face. It was ridiculous, a grown man talking to a stupid cat like that, although not, he pondered, any more ridiculous than a grown man doing the washing up stark naked, save only for a cock ring, 2 nipple rings, a gold collar, and a wedding ring.

 

He joined Skinner on the couch as requested after doing the dishes. Skinner was leaning back, looking through the TV Guide, and he beckoned Mulder to sit between his open knees, then he pulled his slave back against his chest. Mulder relaxed into the embrace with a sigh. This was so nice.

 

“You had an interrupted night, last night, pup,” Skinner mused, gently stroking Mulder’s hair. “Now, I want you to take a nap.”

 

Mulder closed his eyes obediently, listening as Skinner rustled through the TV Guide again. A
thought occurred to him, as he remembered the game. Normally, nothing on this earth would have stopped him watching a playoff game between the Red Sox and the Yankees for the American League title. Skinner seemed to be in a very mellow mood this afternoon. He wondered if there was any way he could wheedle his Master into allowing him to watch the game. Still musing, he turned on his side, and fell into a deep slumber.

 

He was awakened a couple of hours later, by an insistent stroking inside his anus. He blinked, and glanced up. Skinner was finger fucking him awake.

 

“You can’t sleep all day, pup,” Skinner smiled. “We do have some more chores to do. However, I must say, this is nice.”

 

His fingers picked up speed, and Mulder started to writhe, and moan, as they found his prostate. His cock jerked awake with a vengeance.

 

“You know, I think it’s your lucky day,” Skinner murmured into Mulder’s ear. “I think I’m going to use you again.” He dug into his pocket for a condom, then removed his finger, and pressed his hard cock against Mulder’s buttocks, rubbing it between them. “One of the good things about having you in my bed, when the day comes, is that I’ll have you to hand to use if I wake up in the night. I’ll enjoy using you while you sleep.”

 

“I’m sure I’ll soon wake up if you do that, Master,” Mulder moaned, trying to impale himself on his Master’s cock. He could hardly believe himself. Up until last week he had avoided anal sex, but now he was rubbing himself on Skinner’s cock like a cat on heat. He still found Skinner’s thick cock hard to take, but the sensation of it filling him, left him satisfied in a way he could never have imagined. He opened up eagerly, as Skinner pushed his hard length into him, and rocked his hips against his slave’s body, getting into an insistent rhythm, never quite thrusting to the hilt, just dipping in and out. It was a new angle for Mulder, with both of them lying on their sides on the couch, and he had to will himself to relax for the first few strokes, which he always found the most painful. Once Skinner was fully inside him, the big man stopped moving, and held his slave close. Mulder closed his eyes. Shit, this felt so good. His back against Skinner’s chest, being held tight, his Master’s cock fully inside him, claiming him. They were still for a moment that seemed to last forever, and then Skinner started a slow, tantalizing movement, back and forth, every thrust seeming to stimulate Mulder’s prostate, until Mulder felt sure he’d come just from that dizzying pressure. Skinner seemed to sense that he was on the edge, and pinched the tip of his cock firmly. “You don’t come. Not yet. Not until Friday, and then only if you’re good. I’ve been too soft on you so far, slave.” Skinner murmured in his ear.

 

“Master feels pretty hard right now,” Mulder quipped.

 

Skinner tightened the grip of his arm across the front of Mulder’s chest and thrust a few more times before coming. Once more, he stayed inside his slave for several minutes, as his penis softened inside Mulder’s body.

 

“I want you to remember what this feels like, to think about me inside you, as often as possible,” Skinner whispered in his ear. “I read somewhere, about someone who had a plaster cast made of his cock. I’d like to do something similar – have the shape and size of my hard cock fashioned into a butt plug, and make you wear it all the time, so that I’m claiming you, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, like the slave you are. The only time I’d take it out would be to use you, like I just did, so there would never be a time when you couldn’t feel me inside you. How does that sound, slave?” his voice was low, and sexy, and Mulder groaned, his
cock aching with need.

 

“Master is just tormenting me now,” he whispered.

 

“That’s right. I like tormenting you, little one. It gives me pleasure,” Skinner laughed. “How are you feeling after your nap?”

 

“Fine, Master.” Mulder snuggled against his Master’s body.

 

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Skinner’s hands gently stroked his body.

 

Mulder sighed happily. “No, Master,” he whispered.

 

They lay there for a long time. Mulder felt himself drifting off into a dreamy haze. He glanced at the TV Guide on the floor, and remembered his plan. He was sure Skinner wouldn’t let him watch the game if he asked him, so he decided on a different tack.

 

“Master?”

 

“Hmm?” Skinner hugged him close, and kissed the back of his neck, making Mulder’s hair stand on end.

 

“You know what I was saying about not sleeping?”

 

“Yes,” Skinner nibbled at his earlobe.

 

“Well, I usually find that watching baseball before I go to bed helps me drop off. I don’t know why,” Mulder said, taking his life into his hands.

 

“Baseball?” Skinner licked behind his ears. Mulder shivered, willing his erection to go away.

 

“Yes, Master. It works every time. I’ll probably sleep all night if I watched the game this evening,” he said. It sounded unbelievable, even to his own ears, but Skinner seemed to be relaxed, and zoned out, so it was worth a try. It might work. His Master sounded as if he could be in an indulgent mood right now, on his post-sex high. “Could we have the game on tonight, Master?” he asked.

 

“Why not?” Skinner nipped Mulder’s earlobe again. “Yes, we’ll have the game on tonight, slave. I’ll enjoy that. Very much.”

 

Mulder grinned silently to himself. Hah! At last he had found a chink in his Master’s armor. Appealing to Skinner’s good nature, taking advantage of his concern over Mulder’s nightmares, and asking straight after some hot sex. Those were the keys. Mulder snuggled down in his Master’s arms, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.

 

Skinner seemed to be looking forward to the evening as well. He put Mulder through his paces once more on the end of the leash, then they had dinner, after which, Skinner got out some beers, and a bag of popcorn and handed them to his slave.

 

“You can’t watch a game without these vital accessories,” he grinned. Mulder grinned back, sensing the training being relaxed. Maybe tonight, for just a couple of hours, they could be regular guys. They could immerse themselves in the game, and forget about the training for a bit. Maybe, if he was lucky, Mulder could lie in his Master’s arms again while they watched TV, just as he had that afternoon. Mulder took the beers into the living room, and put them on the table, then sat down expectantly, turning on the TV to catch the intro. Skinner came in and sat down beside him.

 

“On the floor, pup,” he gestured. Mulder pouted, reluctant to relinquish his fantasy of lying in Skinner’s arms, but Skinner clicked his fingers and he didn’t dare disobey. “Okay, I think we can use this as a training opportunity.” Skinner smiled down at his slave. “For tonight, Fox, I’d like you to be my footstool.”

 

“What?” Mulder opened his mouth wide in wordless shock.

 

“You heard me, pup. On your hands and knees. No – facing that way.” Skinner pointed in the opposite direction to where the TV was located. Mulder just knelt there, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

 

“But – Master said I could watch the game!” he protested at last.

 

“No, Master said we’d have the game on, and we will – but you won’t be watching it.” Skinner smiled at him. “Instead you’ll be on your hands and knees with my legs on your back. I think I’ll balance the remotes on you as well. Get used to it, slave. I’m fond of human furniture – and it’s a hard skill to learn. You have to be completely still for a start. I won’t put any drinks on you tonight, but I will at some point, and I don’t expect them to spill. I think it’s time that you found a quiet center to your soul, boy. Blank out the rest of the world, and just concentrate on being a footstool.”

 

Mulder choked in disbelief, but Skinner turned him around, placed his unwilling limbs into position, and then rested his long legs on Mulder’s back.

 

“Master, please,” he whimpered, hearing the game start on the television behind him. He was rewarded by a swat on the butt from a rolled up copy of the TV Guide.

 

“Quiet, boy.” Skinner said, leaning back in the couch. He opened a beer, and dug his hand into the popcorn.

 

Mulder flushed to the roots of his hair, feeling utterly humiliated. Apart from anything else, it was uncomfortable, this kneeling in position. He tried to remain still, but after barely ten minutes, he felt sure he’d collapse, and shifted his weight – only to receive another hearty slap. From then on, every wriggle was met by a swat from the TV Guide. Behind him, he could tell he was missing one of the most exciting games in living memory.

 

“This has been a game for the history books so far! I’ve never even seen a play like that before,” Tim McCarver, the Yankee announcer babbled. Skinner leaned forward, excited, removed his legs from Mulder’s back, and plunked his remote and the popcorn down on him instead.

 

“Master!” Mulder protested, flinching from the anticipated blow from the TV Guide. He wasn’t disappointed as it swatted down on his upturned butt.

 

“And now here’s the play at the plate!” Mulder heard from the television behind him. “This run could be it! He’s out! No! The ball is dropped! He’s safe! He’s safe at home!”

 

Oh god, this was excruciating. Mulder craned his neck to get just one glimpse of the play, and found the back of his head swatted with the rolled up magazine. Fuck! He couldn’t bear this!

 

“Master, I’m sorry. Please let me watch,” he begged, doing his best to sound contrite, while thinking furious thoughts.

 

“What are you sorry for, slave?” Skinner asked.

 

“For lying to you so that you’d let me watch,” Mulder admitted with a sigh. “Hell, it was worth a try, Master!”

 

“What about just asking me? Wasn’t that worth a try?” Skinner demanded.

 

“I–you might not have let me, Master,”

 

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to let you now!” Skinner retorted. “Just kneel there, and give the matter of honesty some more thought. That seems to be a theme with you at the moment.”

 

“Is Master going to punish me?” Mulder asked, suddenly worried.

 

“Yeah. Now shut up. I’m watching the game, boy. One more word out of you and
I’ll kill the sound so you can’t even listen to it.”

 

Mulder opened his mouth, and then closed it again. It wasn’t worth the risk. He listened in agony, as the duel between the Yankees and the Red Sox progressed. Mulder missed it all, including a final ‘once in a lifetime’ triple play that brought the game to an end.

 

“But not in my lifetime,” Mulder groaned to himself as the announcers exulted about the end of a baseball game that would go down in the history books as one of the most exciting ever played.

 

Skinner turned the TV off, and clicked his fingers. Mulder rose up stiffly into an upright kneeling position, his back protesting the movement.

 

“Okay, we have some issues to address.” Skinner got up, and took off his belt. Mulder watched him, alarmed, his butt cheeks clenching in anticipation. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to get this message home, Fox, but I do know I’m going to keep trying until we get there. I need your honesty.” Skinner stood in front of his slave, looking down on him. “It’s important. I need it in the little things – like the stunt you just pulled, because if you can’t be honest about that, then there’s no hope with you about the big things. And I need you to be honest about those, Fox, because if you’re not, I might end up doing you some serious harm, and I don’t want that any more than you do. I’m talking emotional harm as much as physical harm,” Skinner warned. “By big things, I mean the truth about your nightmares, because I don’t think you gave me that this morning did you?” Skinner asked.

 

Mulder looked up, his eyes wide and fearful, then looked down again, and shook his head, wordlessly.

 

“I did hope that relaxing you on the couch might encourage you into confessing of your own free will, but I can see that’s not going to happen, so I’m going to be take a harder line with you. You deserve to be punished for the crap you spouted to manipulate me into letting you watch the game. I hope you learned that lesson. Did you?”

 

“Yes, Master.” Mulder bit on his lip, and watched as Skinner doubled up the belt in his hands, and pulled it taut, then slapped it against his thigh a couple of times with a resounding thwack.

 

“What did you learn?” Skinner asked. “Tell me the lesson you learned, slave.”

 

“That I must always be honest with my Master?” Mulder suggested.

 

“Yes – that’s about right, and to drum that lesson home, I’m going to give you one lick of my belt for every word in that sentence, with you spelling each one out as we go. Present yourself for discipline, Fox.”

 

He sat down, and patted his knees. Mulder got up quickly, and bent himself over them, his stomach churning. He reallydidn’t want a spanking right now.

 

“Okay, let’s go,” his Master said, laying the first lick right across the middle of Mulder’s tender flesh.

 

“I,” Mulder panted.

 

“Leg’s further apart,” Skinner widened them with his knee, then, trapped Mulder’s cock between his legs, before delivering the next lick.

 

“M!” Mulder yelped. Another swat followed on quickly behind.

 

“U!” he cried.

 

Each lick came hard on the heels of the next one. If Mulder was too slow spelling the phrase, Skinner laid down an interim stroke to remind him to hurry up. He got lost somewhere around the middle of the word ‘honest,’ so Skinner started all over again from the beginning of that word. By the time he’d finished spelling out the phrase, Mulder’s butt felt like it was on fire, and he was sobbing freely, his head buried in the couch. “Okay,” Skinner paused. “Say each word for me, and I’ll give you a stroke for each, then we’re finished.”

 

“I…ow! Must…always…fuck!…be…hon…honest…please, ow!…with…my…unnnh…Master!” Mulder repeated frantically, each lick of Skinner’s belt printing a line of fire in his flesh. Finally, the onslaught stopped, and Mulder lay, panting, over his Master’s knee. He felt Skinner’s hand soothing his back, and got up, burying his face in his Master’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he sobbed incoherently.

 

“I know you are. Come here.” Skinner pulled his kneeling slave between his open legs, and kissed his hair until the tears finally subsided. Mulder felt sure he’d soaked his Master’s shirt through to the skin. He’d never cried like this after a whipping. He’d always had his escape, damn it! He hated himself for his weakness, and tried to draw back, to retreat, but Skinner held him close, soothing him, which just made Mulder’s sobs start up again. He cried for a long time, then lay limply in his Master’s strong arms. Skinner pushed him back, and gently wiped the tears from his slave’s cheeks, and deposited a light kiss on Mulder’s swollen lips. “Now, talk to me, sweetheart,” Skinner murmured, “and this time, make it the truth. Or I’ll throw you back over my knee, and make you spell out that phrase again. In fact, every time you’re dishonest, that’s exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

 

“Please…I promise I’ll tell you…” Mulder babbled. “The nightmares…they were about you, Master.”

 

“About me?” Skinner frowned.

 

“Yes…I…” Mulder closed his eyes and some instinct made him assume the Confessional position. “I dreamed you were abducted, just like Sam and Scully were abducted. It happens to everyone I love.” He froze, annoyed with himself for uttering that word. He didn’t want Skinner to know the hold he had over him. It made him vulnerable, and weak. “I saw you being taken away, and, another time, you just disappeared. I looked for you everywhere. When I came to your room, I brought the gun because I wanted to protect you. I feel so goddamn helpless in my life, Master. I couldn’t stop them taking Samantha, or Scully. I suppose – I wanted to protect you if they came for you. I know it’s load of fucking stupid crap, but it was 4 o clock in the morning, and it made some kind of half-assed sense then.” Mulder sighed, trembling with the effort of the confession.

 

“Hush, it’s all right.” Mulder was surprised that Skinner hadn’t burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he’d heard. “Fox, I’m not going anywhere,” Skinner told him, softly. “Not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me, slave.” His fingers gently massaged Mulder’s stiff shoulders. “We have to deal with these issues, Fox. You’ve had some bad crap happen in your life. You can move on – but only if you deal with it, instead of trying to hide from it. From now on, you’ll tell me if you have any more nightmares, and you’ll tell me what they are. Now, do you have anything else to confess?”

 

Mulder shook his head, and was surprised when his mouth opened and he started talking.

 

“I’m worried you’ll make me suck the other tops at the party, Master,” he admitted, shaking again. Skinner’s fingers dug deep into the back of his neck.

 

“What the hell made you think I’d do that?” he asked.

 

“Because you want me to be so good at it. I thought that was why,” Mulder admitted.

 

“I want you to be good at it for my own benefit, not anyone else’s!” Skinner laughed. Mulder felt his shoulders relaxing in relief. “Anything else, sweetheart?”

 

“I turned the faucet on, and soaked Wanda’s ear,” Mulder gabbled, seemingly unable to stop the torrent of guilty secrets. Skinner roared with laughter, and Mulder looked up in surprise.

 

“Well, I’m not saying I condone that, but hell, she does hover around that faucet like she’s asking for it sometimes,” Skinner said between great gasps of hysteria. “Well, Fox, it seems like you’ve got a lot on your conscience. I think, maybe, we should institute a confessional half hour every evening.” He leaned forward, and helped his slave to kneel upright, his face turning suddenly serious. “The honesty issue is important, little one,” he said, fondling Mulder’s cheek. Mulder nodded, a lump in his throat. “The fact that you have trouble being honest with me shows you don’t trust me yet. I need that trust. I told you, Fox, I’m going to take you right down. If you don’t trust me, if you fight me all the way, then it’ll be a harder experience for you. Learn to trust me, and it’ll be a lot less painful.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Mulder bowed his head.

 

“And, you know, the excitement of that game has made me horny. There’s something I’d like to do to you before you go to bed. Lie on the floor, hands above your head. Good.”

 

Mulder lay on the carpet, watching as Skinner approached him. Without warning, the big man knelt down on top of him, his legs astride Mulder’s ribs. He took hold of Mulder’s arms, and pushed them back onto the floor, leaning over his slave, and looking into his eyes for a long moment. “Who do you belong to, slave?” He asked. Mulder felt a thrill pass through his body, at being held in such a submissive pose.

 

“You, Master,” he said, happily.

 

“There are many ways of marking you.” Skinner grinned. “Do you know that cats scent mark their territory? That’s what I’m going to do to you now. Hold still.”

 

He opened his jeans, and pulled out his cock, then fed it into Mulder’s waiting mouth. “Suck me until I’m just about to come. No, don’t move. I’m going to hold you down, slave boy.”

 

Mulder obeyed his Master, sucking on his hard cock, his hands held captive over his head, the weight of Skinner’s body keeping him pinned to the carpet. When Skinner was on the verge of coming, he withdrew from his slave’s mouth, and spurted out on his naked body, his come splashing onto Mulder’s chest, and over his neck. Mulder closed his eyes as he accepted the semen onto his body.

 

“Okay,” Skinner leaned forward, and held Mulder down again. “Wait here until it dries, slave boy. Then go to bed stinking of me, with my come still marking your chest. You can’t wash it off until tomorrow morning. If you wake up in the night, I want you to smell me on your body, to feel claimed by my come, and to remember that it’s me marking you as my territory. Nobody,” he said the word with savage intent, “gets to use you but me, boy. You’re mine.” He dipped his finger in his come, and painted some down the center of Mulder’s chest. “Scent-marked,” he whispered.

 

Mulder shivered. He felt more owned than he ever had in his life. He loved the note of jealousy he heard in his Master’s voice. Skinner had even made the thought of sleeping in dried spunk sound sexy. Skinner held him there until the moisture had dried on his body, and then let him up. He fastened Mulder into his chastity belt for the night, and then pulled his slave into a deep, loving kiss.

 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he murmured. Mulder gazed at him in wordless adoration, and then retreated to his bedroom in a haze of happiness.

 

He got into bed, smelling of sex, the dried semen feeling slightly itchy on his chest, but for some reason he found the smell and sensation reassuring – and he didn’t have one bad dream all night.

 

End of Part 7