【24/7】(5-7)

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 17:41:55

Author: xanthe Word Count: 98277 Thread: thread-9206304-1-1.
Mulder
lay there, his body churning, naked and sprawled out like a sacrifice, bearing his master's mark, while Skinner sat there, as if reading a newspaper for God!
He began to feel restless, but was immediately rewarded with a heavy slap, right on his wound. "Ouch!"
He looked up.
"Be quiet and don't move. You'll be like this for an hour or longer, so get used to it,"
Skinner told him.
Mulder glared at him. "I'm not a newspaper rack!" he shouted through gritted teeth.
“No, you are my slave. If I consider one of your uses to be my newspaper rack, then I will use you as a newspaper rack. If I were you, I would seriously consider whether you would even want to ejaculate by this time next year,” Skinner warned ominously. “In this house, service and payment are directly linked, Fox. The sooner you understand this, the better.” With that, he unfolded the newspaper and continued reading.
Mulder buried his face in the pillow, trying to caress his throbbing penis telepathically. He had collected all the technical information on this subject and was convinced that if he thought about it hard enough, he could bring it to orgasm before Skinner found out. He was lost in his fantasy for what seemed like an eternity until Skinner’s voice suddenly broke in, startling him.
“Where is Wanda?” Skinner asked.
“Hmm, she was out when I came in.” Mulder chuckled, burying his face in the pillow, a proud cat being outmaneuvered by a slave.
“That doesn’t seem like Wilda. What time did you get up?” Skinner asked.
“Eight o’clock sharp. There’s something I want to ask you, Master.” Mulder turned his head, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, you ordered me to swim every morning, but I can’t wear this, um, thing.”
He gestured with his chin toward the leather cage. “I’m sure you don’t want me to wake you up to ask what to do.” He said, feeling as if he had received some kind of guidance from a kind little elf.
“Of course not. I was planning to let you start swimming after we go back to work, not this week.” Skinner told him, then picked up his coffee and took a sip. “So what did you do between 8 and 9 o’clock?”
“Read the newspaper.” Mulder shrugged.
"Very good." Skinner closed the newspaper and began to scrutinize his slave. "Fox—I know you're still unfamiliar with your current situation, but I truly hope that marking you last night helped you focus more on your identity. I told you before, and I've told you again since you got here, that you'll be rewarded for keeping yourself busy for my needs, won't you?"
"Yes, Master." Mulder looked at him, puzzled. "Did I do something wrong?"
Skinner suddenly pointed to the floor in front of the bed. "Get in position, now!" he roared.
Mulder quickly climbed off the bed, still unsure what he had done wrong. He quickly assumed his position, knees apart, hands behind his back, shoulders straight, head bowed.
“This morning, you were unsure whether to go swimming, and that was perfectly reasonable—I wasn’t very clear, and it was right of you not to wake me. But didn’t you think about how you could please me? For example, could you offer to iron my shirts in your free time? Or cook breakfast?”
“No, Master. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that,” Mulder muttered, cursing himself for being foolish.
“I said I would try to be lenient with you at first, but even if I could refrain from punishing you, I have no reason to reward you for consistently focusing only on your own needs,” Skinner admonished.
“So stingy…then I can’t ejaculate today, Master?” Mulder asked softly.
Skinner sighed. “Are you only thinking about your own pleasure?” he asked.
Mulder bit his lip, realizing he had made another mistake.
Skinner reached out and grabbed his slave’s chin. “Sometimes I think you won’t even try,” he said.
"I'm so sorry, Master. I'll do better next time, I swear," Mulder said with deep remorse.
"Very good. Let's see if you can do it," Skinner said to him in a very firm tone.
"Now, go to the bathroom—I think today is a good day for some wet training."
Mulder hurriedly ran to the bathroom, his penis erect, the timing of this 'training' was perfect.
Skinner went into the bathroom with him, turned on the tap, and handed him a bar of soap. "Help me wash," he commanded.
Mulder eagerly jumped forward to carry out the task, which was quite unexpected for him. Watching and touching his master's beautiful body were two things he enjoyed doing very much. Before, he didn't pay much attention to his tops' bodies; their existence was only to serve him, and also to be used for training. He was used to sucking other men's penises, and he enjoyed kneeling at their feet; this complete submission made him feel dominated by another man. But since being with Skinner, he couldn't remember anything from before.
He suspected that Skinner's attraction to him had always been there; he remembered craving Skinner's embrace on many occasions—damn it! Even when they were working alone, he fantasized about it, even though he wouldn't admit it himself. Of course, he had other tops, so this scenario was impossible.
Remembering how infatuated he was with Skinner, Mulder was shocked. A voice in his head screamed: Get out before it's too late. But what did "too late" mean? Mulder didn't know.
More than that, Mulder felt he should consider how to make up for his previous lack of attention to his master's body. He carefully lathered Skinner with soap, gently kissed Skinner's collarbone, licked the water droplets that fell around him, and lightly swirled the soap around his master's nipples.
As Mulder gently washed his penis with soap, combed his pubic hair with his fingers, knelt to lather his legs, and kissed his knees and inner thighs, Skinner sighed and leaned against the wall. Skinner's body was happy, without a doubt.
Mulder had never thought before what constituted an attractive male body, but he had always vaguely realized that his long limbs and tall stature attracted the attention of some men and women.
Skinner was a more typical male—his muscles were the best proof. And he was taller and had more body hair. Mulder loved the power contained in those strong limbs and the smooth feel of the honey-colored skin under his fingers. His frustration stemmed from the sheer ease with which he could worship a master like this, requiring absolutely no effort.
He had accomplished his task, and Skinner pulled him into her arms, kissing him passionately—his reward. Their naked bodies pressed tightly together, water dripping incessantly onto their faces.
"Wash yourself," Skinner ordered, then leaned against the wall watching Mulder quickly and efficiently wash his body. Once finished, he turned to face his master, obediently awaiting further instructions.
"Put your hands on the wall," Skinner told him. "Pull your ass out a little… a little more… that's fine."
As Skinner kicked his legs, making him spread them wider, Mulder felt certain he was about to slip. He glanced behind him and saw Skinner pick up the soap, then felt it slip into his buttocks, lubricating him.
Skinner's fingers effortlessly entered his anus, then withdrew, repeating the action over and over. Mulder panted, his head bobbing, water dripping from his hair. His penis pressed tightly against the piercing ring, but he knew asking his master for permission to orgasm was pointless. Skinner added another finger, and Mulder opened up under this relentless caress, welcoming them into his body. He stretched his hips back further, trying to open himself wider, hoping to encourage his master to possess him.
Skinner seized his hips, pressing his penis against Mulder's buttocks. It felt so hard, so violent, so huge… big enough to assert dominance over him, to completely fill him… Mulder groaned, wanting it, wanting him.
"Do you think you're ready to receive me?" Skinner asked in a low, hoarse voice in his ear.
"Yes, oh God, yes!" Mulder cried out.
"No, not yet." Skinner inserted a third finger into Mulder's anus, caressing his prostate, making his slave's penis throb.
He continued to use his fingers on Mulder for several more minutes, until finally all that remained in Mulder's mind were those thick, powerful fingers, consuming him, making love to his body, and taking over him. He felt a dazzling white light in his mind, and even though he couldn't release, his body was still exhausted by wave after wave of pleasure.
Finally, Skinner withdrew his fingers. "Like this?" he roared.
"Yes...yes, Master," Mulder gasped.
"Good, stay there. I think it's time for you to experience the taste of training, don't you think?"
Skinner's hands gently rubbed Mulder's buttocks. "Put your hands on the wall, and don't move them,"
he warned. "Trust me, if you dare to move them, the punishment will be very severe."
"Yes, Master," Mulder groaned, bracing his hands on the tiles.
Skinner continued stroking his buttocks, then without warning, slapped him hard on the side, then another, avoiding the marks, hitting only the middle, below, or beside them, making Mulder's buttocks increasingly hot. Then Skinner's attack targeted his groin, skillfully slapping them.
Mulder hated being hit there, he cried out in pain and tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but suddenly remembered what his master had said and quickly stopped, though one hand almost left the wall.
"If you dare move an inch more, I'll turn your ass into toast," Skinner warned him.
Mulder reluctantly braced his hands against the wall again, offering his buttocks once more to his master's persistent hand. It hurt, but it was a pleasurable pain, a pain that surged wildly through Mulder's body, giving him a sense of existence.
Skinner struck harder, the blows slapping against his flesh. Mulder began to cry, tears mingling with the bathwater as they streamed down his face. Now, Skinner's hand was gently patting his marks, a sharp pain shooting through Mulder's body, making him tremble uncontrollably, his penis hardening even more.
He tried to keep his hands from leaving the tiles, he wanted to writhe, wanted to scream, but all he could do was jump back and forth, pleading incoherently, "Oh God, Master... I'm hurt, I can't take it... please..." he wept.
"Why are you being beaten, slave?" Skinner's low growl cut through the rushing water.
“For…for…not to have considered your wishes better, Master,” Mulder sobbed. “Oh, Shit…please…oh God…”
“Are you determined to do better from now on?”
“Yes, Master! Oh! I promise! I promise!” Mulder cried out his promise as Skinner’s hand pounded harder and harder on his red bottom.
“Is there any other reason for your punishment?” Skinner asked.
“For…” Mulder racked his brains, then he remembered, “because it pleases you, Master! There’s no other reason…” he gasped.
"Good." Skinner chuckled. "That's right, slave. Seeing your ass turn a bright red, feeling you writhe under my hands, hearing your pleas, seeing how you try so hard to obey me in this situation, befitting your status, truly pleases me. In that case, let's keep it up until it's all over. Are we finished?"
With that, he punished Mulder with a thud of his heaviest slaps. As the blows rained down on Mulder's wet, burning buttocks, all he could do was brace himself against the wall. Then the slaps lessened and stopped completely.
Skinner poured cold water directly onto Mulder's hot buttocks. Mulder believed that if the water were any colder, it would have hissed against his skin.
He leaned his forehead against the wall and felt Skinner pressed against his back, gently kneading his hot buttocks with his hands. Mulder groaned and gasped, but didn't move.
Skinner continued rubbing, occasionally inserting his finger into Mulder's anus, lingering for a moment before withdrawing.
Mulder was used to these intrusions; he wasn't nervous. In fact, he kept squeezing, trying to push his master's finger onto his delicious spot before Skinner noticed, because that would bring him pleasure. Skinner didn't forcefully pull his finger away quickly, like those brief kisses.
He rubbed and kissed the back of Mulder's neck, and Mulder could feel the man's hard penis pressing against his aching buttocks. He wondered if Skinner would immediately penetrate him, pinning him against the damp wall. But after a few minutes of rubbing, his master came to the side and told him he could stand up.
Mulder's first action was to kneel directly at his master's feet, kissing them repeatedly and murmuring words of gratitude.
Skinner smiled as he accepted his adoration, then pulled him up, brushed the wet hair from his face, and kissed his forehead.
Mulder leaned weakly against his master's shoulder. After a while, he reached out to stroke the tall man's firm, bare buttocks, but immediately found himself pushed aside, and the gushing water suddenly stopped.
"I'm sure we're clean enough now," Skinner said coldly.
Mulder hurriedly and enthusiastically opened the cupboard door, grabbed a large towel from the railing, held it in his hand waiting for his master to come out, then wrapped him in the towel and dried him off.
“Good, very good.” Skinner smiled, cupping Mulder’s face in his hands and kissing the tip of his nose. “Such consideration has earned you a reward, little one,” he whispered.
Mulder’s heart pounded. He wanted so many rewards, and he didn’t even know which one he wanted most. He wanted orgasms, to play in that dreamlike playroom, to be used by his master, to welcome his penis into his body, to sleep in his master’s bed, to have his master’s deep kisses, to let his tongue plunder his mouth…
…The list was endless. “Yes, master,” he whispered, feeling more like a slave than ever before. He wanted to serve this man, he wanted to bathe him, dry him, and worship him—it was the easiest thing to do.
“Your concern reminds me of something else,” Skinner grinned. “Dry yourself off, then come with me.”
Mulder followed Skinner, who was wearing a yukata, upstairs. When Mulder realized their destination was the playroom, a premonition of what was about to happen made his heart race. “Master, I… well, I didn’t have a chance… to use lubricant this morning,” he murmured.
“No problem, slave,” Skinner smiled. “I won’t touch you, in fact, quite the opposite.”
He smiled at the bewildered Mulder, then opened the door and stepped aside to let Mulder in first.
He led his slave to a large massage table, took out a box of oil from underneath, and asked, “I felt very stiff this morning. Can you give me a massage?”
Mulder silently shook his head.
“Alright, then improvise and let us see how good you are.”
Mulder nodded eagerly, itching to apply the oil to his master’s naked body immediately. After Skinner lay down on the black leather massage table, Mulder rubbed the oil between his hands to warm it, then tentatively placed his hands on Skinner’s shoulders.
“A little harder,” Skinner commanded.
Mulder’s slender fingers quickly and greedily devoured the newly oiled skin, probing the areas that felt tight under his fingers, trying his best to eliminate every knot he found, and soon he was completely focused on his task.
Skinner had remained lying still, and when Mulder rudely slipped his fingers between his master’s buttocks, he didn’t object, so when Skinner suddenly spoke, Mulder was startled.
"Would you like to serve me there?"
"Yes, Master," he answered honestly.
"With your penis?" Skinner asked.
Mulder considered for a moment, "Yes, Master," he admitted, swallowing hard.
Skinner laughed, "That's probably something off the list of rewards you thought of when you earned your prize,"
he said.
"Yes, Master."
"Have you ever served one of your tops anally, Fox?" Skinner asked.
"No, Master." Mulder kissed his master's knees.
"Well, we'll correct that someday," Skinner mused for a moment, "As for now, I allow you to worship me there with your tongue."
Mulder had never licked anyone's there before, but he was ordered to do so, so he gently parted his master's buttocks and tentatively slid his tongue inside.
Skinner's genitals were clean, smelling of soap and oil, and he quickly responded to Mulder's movements—Mulder noticed him writhing his hips with satisfaction. Mulder relaxed and began to enjoy himself, teasing the small folds with his lips and tongue, enticing them to open, his tongue moving in and out, making his master sigh repeatedly. He worshipped his master in this way for several minutes, satisfied with bringing such pleasure to this tall man, not to mention he also enjoyed the pleasure of having his cheeks gripped by those taut buttock muscles.
Finally, Skinner groaned and quickly sat up. "I think," Skinner said, his huge erection pointing to the air, "I desperately need your service, Fox."
Mulder obediently knelt before him, and Skinner guided his penis into the other man's waiting mouth, thrusting forcefully for two or three minutes before releasing. As his slave swallowed, he affectionately stroked his hair with his fingers. "This is the second time before breakfast," Skinner said with a grin.
"I'm very lucky, Master," Mulder replied.
Skinner gave him a pleased smile, then stroked his slave's cheek. "You've done wonderfully, Fox, I'm very pleased with you," he said. "If you can keep this up, then this afternoon I'll show you some playroom fun."
Mulder grinned from ear to ear, his face almost splitting in two.
"Go look in the cupboard," Skinner pulled open his bathrobe. "Give me your favorite."
Mulder rushed over, examining the contents of the cupboard with the eyes of a child seeing candy—so many, he didn't know which one to choose!
"Is there a problem, slave?" Skinner came up behind him.
“Yes, Master,” Mulder bit his lip. “I initially intended to give you the birch branch, but I wasn’t entirely sure… I’ve already been punished once today.” He sighed.
“Fox, I can use the birch branch as punishment, or I can use it for pleasure. Trust me, if you choose it, I guarantee it will give you an alluring, stinging kiss like never before,” Skinner told him. “Is there anything else that fascinates you, sweetheart?”
He sounded like a indulgent lover, and Mulder looked up at him, a joyful smile on his face as he savored the moment.
“Horse harness,” he said. “I’ve been strapped to it before, but I’ve never experienced being suspended in mid-air. I’ve always loved the idea.”
“You’ll have your chance,” Skinner kissed him tenderly. “Now, I think it’s time for brunch. Afterwards, you can work in the laundry room for a few hours. If you can finish everything and satisfy me, then we’ll play later, and I’ll allow you to release.” He grinned wickedly, brushing his finger across Mulder’s penis.
Hearing his master’s words, Mulder felt a wave of triumphant dizziness, but he was immediately jolted back to reality by the next sentence.
“Here’s a business card; he can teach you massage.” Skinner handed him a piece of paper. “Call him tomorrow and ask him to arrange it. Fox, I expect you to become a complete master.”
Mulder silently took the business card. Did his master not like his massages? Was his effort not good enough?
“Just in case the temptation is too great, so that you…” Skinner took another chastity belt from the cabinet.
Mulder sighed. This one was smaller, but seemed more effective, and Skinner hadn’t forgotten the padlock.
Feeling a bit deflated, Mulder returned to his room, tossed the massage therapist's business card on the bedside table, and then jogged downstairs to have brunch.
After a hearty brunch, Skinner instructed Mulder to clear the dishes first, then go to the laundry room to finish the remaining work from yesterday.
"I'm going out for two or three hours. Don't succumb to temptation and wander around the apartment area," he told his slave in a stern tone.
Mulder nodded, feeling a little aggrieved. "Of course not, Master, I never intended to do that,"
he protested.
Skinner raised an eyebrow, and Mulder's face flushed red. "Okay, I won't now, you already told me not to," he quickly corrected himself.
Skinner grinned, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Alright, if you've ironed all the shirts when I get back, then we'll go play," he promised.
Mulder nodded, clearing the dishes with unusual enthusiasm. Soon Skinner would strap him to that amazing device and do strange, intense, pleasurable things to his naked, helpless body, and even allow him to release! Mulder's penis throbbed gratefully inside its cannula, panting like a dog about to be released from its leash. He wanted to know where Skinner had gone, but he didn't have time to care now.
He cleared the table, and as soon as he turned around, he clearly felt someone staring at him.
There, sitting on the refrigerator, staring intently at him, was Wanda.
"Cat..." Mulder said to her, starting to clean her habitat and putting her on the floor, "You're not allowed to sit on the refrigerator, and..." He jumped up, and Wanda suddenly leaped onto the counter.
"You're only allowed on the floor in the kitchen." He firmly placed her back at his feet once more. "We all know where a cat is, ma'am. You can't control this place, as your noble paws used to think, but now there's a new regime, Wanda, my darling, so you'd better get used to it."
He glared at her, trying to instill this
idea in her. Then he headed towards the laundry room, ignoring Wanda's malicious glare behind him. Mulder threw himself into the washing and ironing with almost compulsive enthusiasm, pouring every ounce of energy and sexual frustration into this chore until it evaporated like steam from an iron.
Finally, he surveyed a row of neat, crisp shirts with satisfaction. "I'm coming!" he announced loudly to the empty room, then excitedly danced around the room, completely oblivious to how bizarre he looked—wearing only a chastity belt, one hand gripping the iron, waving a brightly colored red bottom.
Mulder had just hung up a few shirts when the hangers ran out. He carefully placed the remaining shirts on every available shelf, then jogged upstairs to Skinner's bedroom to find more hangers.
A moment later, he returned to the laundry room, whistling excitedly, but stopped abruptly, his mouth agape in despair—the shirts, the ones he'd left outside, the freshly ironed, delicate white shirts, were all covered in…paw marks!
Suddenly, a creamy-white and gold shadow darted out from beside him and darted away. He let out a hysterical, furious cry, “Wanda! I'll fucking make you pay!” he roared, unsure whether to chase the cat or salvage the damaged shirts.
A quick inspection revealed that the shirts were beyond repair; each one was invariably adorned with Wandada's exquisitely detailed paw prints, requiring them to be washed and ironed again.
Mulder was speechless with despair. He stood there for a long time, filled with despair and anger. Every sexual frustration had invariably awakened him, yet each time he was denied liberation.
He threw his shirt on the floor, turned and ran upstairs to his room, took out his suitcase, and tossed his clothes inside. But then he realized he was penniless, and worse, he was still locked in a chastity belt. There was no other choice but to wait for Skinner to return.
Fine, so be it.
Mulder loosened his jeans, tugged at his t-shirt, and went downstairs to sit in the living room, waiting for his master—no, the man who was no longer his master—to return.
Mulder's emotions worsened as he waited, the anguish of disappointment and the despair and helplessness he had often felt in the past engulfing him.
What the hell had bewitched him to sign that stupid contract?
He was a mature man, yet he was being treated like a worthless… “slave,” his brain coldly presented him with that word. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted.
Mulder buried his face in his hands, struggling with his human side.
But what had driven him here? Had he escaped without this reason?
Perhaps he could renegotiate with Skinner, asking his boss to consider accepting him as his sub, a normal, easy relationship. Two dates a week, which could be ended whenever Mulder wanted. No obligations, no constraints, no effort required, just two nights a week in that fantasy wonderland upstairs.
Mulder jumped up, his fantasy shattered by the sound of a door closing outside. Skinner entered the room.
His boss was dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a plain black leather jacket.
Mulder hoped his throat hadn't gone dry at the sight before him.
“What’s this?” Skinner tossed the keys onto the table, giving Mulder’s clothed body a sharp look. “And this?” He lightly kicked the box.
“I’m leaving. I’ve had enough. This is ridiculous. We’ll never get it working. It’s a crazy idea—that you can be my master and I can be your slave. I’m a free man, not an unpaid maid!” Mulder exploded. Skinner
looked at him thoughtfully. “Go on,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair.
Mulder noticed a package tucked under his arm. “I don’t want to be controlled by your every damn weird idea! I’m used to making my own decisions. I’m a free spirit, Skinner, you know that. I can’t handle these restrictions well. Damn it! I’m just bad at following orders! I can’t obey them. Why is this the damn difference?” Mulder yelled.
"What caused all this?" Skinner asked calmly, placing the package on the table and pouring himself a glass of water.
"It doesn't matter! Didn't you hear what I told you? You don't own me, you can't control me, you can't fucking decide anything for me!" Mulder roared desperately. "This whole thing is absurd. I know part of it is my fault, I admit it, and I know I signed that stupid contract. But it's over. You can't force me to stay here. I don't want to be left here. I need to leave… I need… oh fuck, I don't even know what I need!"
Skinner finished his water coldly, waiting until Mulder's long, impassioned speech ended before uttering three words, "Come with me."
Mulder hesitated, biting his lip, shifting his feet, unwilling to follow.
Skinner picked up the package and started to walk away, but stopped when he saw this, turning back to Mulder. "This is an invitation, not an order," Skinner said gently.
Mulder swallowed hard, then nodded and followed the other man down the corridor to a room he had never been to before.
The room was a small study with a large desk, two chairs, and a wall of bookshelves.
"Sit," Skinner gestured, placing the package on the desk and sitting in a large chair behind him.
Mulder felt a little more relaxed; the arrangement of the desk and chair reminded him of their more familiar surroundings, environments he could handle. He noticed a pile of documents on the table and nodded, which further explained the other man's unusual calm. "Bringing work home, sir, is quite a sacrifice." "
That's a side job, and it has nothing to do with my work." Skinner waved the documents away. "Fox, you asked me to allow you to terminate your contract, and I refuse." He said firmly.
Mulder looked up at him, surprised to find that he seemed both angry and relieved. "You can't force me to stay here against my will," he retorted.
"Yes, I can't, but someone else can," Skinner told him.
Mulder frowned. "You mean?" he asked.
“I mean, you’ve signed a contract, selling yourself to someone you’ve never met as a sex slave. You don’t know that person will be me, Fox. You may have sold yourself to someone who will beat you unconscious, tie you to the bed all day, and fuck you without letting you think. You plan to go back to work in a week, but you don’t know where you’ll be then, and I bet you haven’t told anyone what you’re planning to do. Anything can happen to you, Fox.”
Skinner’s disapproval was obvious, and Mulder trembled uncontrollably.
He looked down at his hands. “This guy, I mean, you’re a famous person, I think I should be safe…” he whispered.
“Fox, you have a self-destructive tendency, I’ve noticed it since the first time I saw you, and you’ll continue like this until someone pulls you back from the brink, and I’m going to be that person.”
Mulder looked up in surprise.
“You are mine, Fox, whether you like it or not,” Skinner told him firmly.
“This is non-negotiable. I made it clear to you before you signed that contract that you had no way out. However, what I want is a devoted slave, not a suffering slave. If you have any questions you want to discuss with me, you can tell me anytime. You have my permission to do so; in fact, it is an order. I promise you, I will always listen to what you have to say, and even if I disagree, I will tell you why. I told you before that your honesty is important to me. As for now… I knew we were bound to have this conversation, and I’m just a little surprised it happened so soon, but I’m not particularly worried. Tell me, what is bothering you?” He leaned back in his chair, no longer speaking, but just rubbing his thumb and forefinger together as if in a hypnotic motion.
Mulder hesitated. Faced with this calm, unusually reasonable man, all his anger and frustration seemed so insignificant and meaningless. His rage dissipated, leaving only utter self-loathing.
“I don’t know where I stand with you,” he said weakly. “I’m not used to this. I thought you would do me, but you didn’t. I don’t know what you want from me.” “
Just because of this? Just because I didn’t shove my penis into your ass?” Skinner asked incredulously. “Didn’t we just do something else, Fox?”
“I know.” Mulder shrugged, feeling two inches shorter.
“Fox, look at me,” Skinner said gently.
Mulder slowly raised his head, afraid to see another man’s eyes, but when he did, they were warm and convincing.
“What else?” Skinner asked.
“You won’t let me cum!” Mulder knew it sounded incredibly stupid, even he thought so, but Skinner’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t scoff or stand up angrily.
“I can’t stay on this edge forever,” he said, barely managing to finish the sentence.
“Is there another reason?” Skinner asked.
Mulder bit his lip. Since it had already started, he might as well let it go all the way.
“The massage. I thought you were satisfied, but instead you gave me a business card and told me to go learn how to do it properly. I wanted to make you happy,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’ve tried so hard to please you, but I don’t think I can. I’ll only disappoint you, just like my massage…oh fuck!”
he yelled, standing up angrily. “Why the hell am I the one apologizing? Let me leave. We can pretend this never happened. I don’t need this. I can start over and throw myself into my work…”
“Until next time,” Skinner gently interrupted him. “What the hell does that mean?”
Mulder paced back and forth in the study, completely out of control.
“You can’t hide this side of yourself forever. You’ve tried, and you’ve failed. This will only happen again and again,” Skinner told him.
“What do you know? You’re just one of those damn sadists. You don’t understand me, Skinner, and you certainly won’t have me,” Mulder yelled.
As he did this, even he himself found it strange why he had lost him like this.
“Sit down,” Skinner told him sternly.
Mulder’s fists clenched at his sides, waging a silent battle with himself, until he remembered that Skinner had the key to this damn chastity belt, and unless he wanted to take a sharp knife and cut it off, he had to cooperate with Skinner.
Mulder took a deep breath and obeyed.
“Very good,” Skinner said softly, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I have to, Fox. These documents aren’t work; they’re you.”
“What?” Mulder stared in surprise at the bound files. “Have you been spying on me all this time?”
He breathed heavily, his knees twitching like a paranoid maniac from an X-File.
“Let me finish,” Skinner said, raising a hand. “I’m not trying to capture you, Fox. When you started contacting me a year ago, I tried everything to avoid you. I realized it would be difficult during work, and besides, your behavior is notorious in this circle. Let me finish.” He glared at Mulder, who opened his mouth to protest.
"Everyone says you're a very charming player, a really good one. You know what you want, and you say it clearly without any misunderstandings. It's just that they feel you don't seem very committed. Although I think some of them weren't entirely sure about that until the very end. Everyone says you want more than they can offer, and they all vaguely sense that they're letting you down in some way. One person who knows you better told me they think you're silently heading towards extremes, desperate and out of control. I'm worried you'll seek out more extreme thrills until you kill yourself in the process. You confirmed this to me when I spoke with you last week. I initially planned to say 'no' to you during our first meeting and let you go before you find out who I am, but some of the things you said changed my mind. I know I can't abandon you; I have to help you."
Skinner paused, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. "Fox, these documents include the contents of my conversations with the people you've recently been in contact with. Once I accept you as my slave, I want to prove to them all that I can figure out what your dreams are and how you react to different stimuli.
Based on that, I've devised a training plan for you."
Mulder sat there, mouth agape, completely stunned. "I can tell..." he finally commented, wrapping his arms around himself, "that you're doing it for your own amusement."
Skinner gave him a strange smile. "You could say that, Fox, but have you ever thought about why I would accept you? What do you think would be attractive to me?"
"Hmm..." Mulder pondered the question. "I don't know. I guess you just like the power, the control, and the exploitation of sexual services..." His voice trailed off.
“I do like it, that’s true,” Skinner pondered. “But that’s not the main reason, so I didn’t ask them for all the details. And let me tell you: a good top brings pleasure to his sub, or his slave, and anyone else he plays with, not just by inflicting pain or by some weird controlling behavior, but by making his sub writhe, be excited, beg him to stop, while desperately wanting more. A good top is also safe.”
He emphasized the word ‘safe,’ “You don’t seem to care about that, because you’re prepared to sell yourself to a stranger.”
“No,” Mulder covered his face with his hands. “It’s a thrill, sir. I have to be myself again; this unpredictable danger is so alluring.” He sighed.
“So, I’m disappointed,” Skinner said softly.
Mulder's head throbbed. "No, sir, it might be better to expose it like this." He smiled weakly. "You come from this kind of alliance, sir. I've never played with someone like you before. It's a…"
He hesitated, then smiled again, "a fantasy." He concluded.
"But you still want to leave?" Skinner pressed.
Mulder hesitated. "It brings me some very familiar fears," he admitted. "You can make me leave whenever you want, and I can't refuse." He bit his lip, realizing he had revealed a motive for wanting to leave.
"Ah," Skinner smiled. "You think my not doing this is also a form of refusal, don't you?" he asked gently.
Mulder nodded, staring at his feet.
"Fox, you've only been here for two days," Skinner pointed out.
“I know. I’m an idiot, you must hate me.” Mulder shrugged. “I’m a huge disappointment, unworthy of staying, huh?” He looked up, trying to force a smile.
“I think you need someone to guarantee you’ll stay, which is why I emphasized your slave status. I’ll definitely fuck you, though I don’t know when. Haven’t I been training you for that all along? Your previous anal experiences were painful. My thing is big, and if I just went in, you’d definitely get hurt. Even now, it might still be a little uncomfortable, and although you like pain, it’s still too much for you. You told me you wouldn’t ask for your previous tops anal sex because getting in from behind is horrible.”
Mulder leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “These anal plugs… they’re not just for humiliation and showing ownership,” he muttered, annoyed at how quickly he’d come to his senses.
“Yes,” Skinner smiled affectionately, “it’s preparation.”
“Damn, I’m such a fool,” Mulder sighed.
“Yes. But you are my fool,” Skinner laughed.
Mulder looked up. “Will you still accept me?” His heart pounded in his chest as he realized how much he wanted to stay.
“Of course,” Skinner said without hesitation, “we have a lot to do, Fox. First, I want you to come down with me, to treat it like a dive. I want to go with you into your heart, mind, and soul, where we’ll find something. I’ll embrace you the whole way, but it might hurt, it might frighten you. You’ll want to run away, to turn and run, but I won’t let you. We’ll face it together, we’ll swim to shore together. That way, you can breathe freely under the sky again, freed from the darkness and the long-term pressure. You’ve given me your whole life, but you still haven’t learned to let go of control. Once you do, you’ll find this journey easier, though it’s not a journey you can escape. You’ve made a promise, and I won’t let you leave until we do. This isn’t a short time. Tell me your thoughts, Fox, tell me honestly, what do you want to do?” Skinner’s dark eyes stared at him, making Mulder momentarily disoriented.
“I…” He closed his eyes, then opened them again, finding Skinner still sitting there waiting, his gaze unwavering. “I want to stay… Master,” he whispered.
“Good.” Skinner opened a package on his desk, took out two framed photos, and placed them on the table, each containing a signed contract.
Mulder’s eyes gleamed as he gazed at their signatures. He was so used to seeing them in the same places, like on his work reports. But this was different; it was personal, and it felt so good, so right.
“Let’s look at this, as a reaffirmation of our oath,” Skinner smiled. “I want you to keep them on your bedside table. I want them to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night. The road is difficult at first, but you can trust me, I will always be by your side.”
“Yes, Master,” Mulder nodded.
"As for the massage—fox, if I didn't like your massage, I would have told you. Isn't my reaction enough to prove that I enjoyed your efforts?"
Mulder shrugged, reluctantly agreeing, "fox, you can't know everything without guidance. Clarkhammond taught me massage! Massage is a very complex skill; different oils can be used to treat different ailments, and I want you to understand all of that. Your massage this morning was very comfortable; Clark will teach you how to do it even better."
"Oh." Mulder bit his lip, feeling foolish. It made perfect sense; he didn't know why he had doubted his master before. He hated himself for almost messing up the most important thing in his life, trying to run away for some hypothetical reason. He glanced at Skinner. "I messed it up," he admitted.
His master shook his head. "Everyone makes mistakes, my slave," he said softly. "I might too during your slave training. If so, please point it out to me."
Mulder smiled, doubting his courage. "Well, there's something I'd like to know, Master. You just reminded me," he said cautiously. "Did you install a camera in my bedroom?"
Skinner looked at him strangely. "A camera? Oh, I see!" he laughed. "You're wondering how I know about the penis ring and your orgasms!" He stood up, walked to his slave's seat, lifted his chin with one finger, and looked down at his possessions. "Do you think I need to secretly monitor you?" he asked in a low, hoarse voice, "when I found out you were this good?"
Mulder's eyes widened. "You guessed?" he asked. "How could I?"
"Fox, I won't reveal all of my master's secrets to you," Skinner scolded, poking his slave's nose hard. "But since this is the first serious discussion we've had since you came here, I'll make an exception this time. Don't expect a second time. Before you went to sleep, I deliberately refused to let you have any relief, so that you would have an idea in your mind, which I'm sure was the only thing you could think of. You've just started as a slave—I have some doubts that you'll obey me in this respect, and I guess you won't.
Sometimes you obey me, but that's because you want to obey, not because pleasing me is the only thought in your mind. You haven't decided to wake up, whether it's about life or death. Little one, have you thought about this since I brought you here?"
"No, master," Mulder admitted, a small lump rising in his throat. “
Alright.” Skinner lowered his head and gently kissed Mulder’s lips. “Now,” he stood up straight, his eyes stern and his movements swift, “we have some issues to deal with.”
“You’re going to punish me for what I said to you earlier,” Mulder guessed, feeling his stomach churning with worry.
“Yes, I will. If you had come to me calmly to discuss your concerns, there would have been no punishment. But that’s not what I’m talking about now. Did you complete the task I assigned you?”
Mulder recalled the painful incident, his heart sinking. “Yes, Master, I did,”
he whispered. “But that cat,” he uttered the last word with hatred, “decided to ruin all my efforts.”
Skinner looked at him curiously. “Take me to see it,” he commanded.
Mulder led him heavily to the laundry room. Skinner picked up a torn shirt, examined it, shook his head, and smiled slightly. "Dear Wanda,"
he whispered, "you know, Fox, I don't think she likes you much."
He shifted his gaze to Mulder, frowning. "You're dressed too warmly, slave," he commented.
"Yes, Master," Mulder hurriedly removed his jeans and t-shirt, then knelt before the other man. His body trembled slightly as he assumed a submissive posture, unsure of what to expect.
"What's going on in your head?" Skinner asked. "Do you think I'm so irrational that I can't recognize this as a disaster?" He grinned deliberately, his words carrying a double meaning.
Mulder sighed. There are so many masters in the world, yet I'm destined to be possessed by one with such a bizarre sense of humor. “I’m sorry, Master. I’ve just been thinking about the playroom and what you promised me,” he explained. “I’m so eager for it.”
Damn, that reason sounded utterly unconvincing.
“Alright. Let me describe what’s going to happen next,” Skinner commanded sharply. “Right now, take these clothes to wash and then iron them.”
Mulder looked up, his anger, which had just subsided, reignited at being treated like a maid. “Yes, Master,” he said through gritted teeth.
Skinner smiled and shook his head, acknowledging his effort to appear obedient. “Afterwards, I’ll take you to the playroom,” he said.
Mulder’s face immediately crinkled into a smile. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered, quickly leaning forward to kiss Skinner’s shoes, feeling guilty for his earlier impatience.
“But,” Skinner continued.
Mulder’s heart skipped a beat.
"This isn't just for fun. I'll use the harness, as you requested. But you'll have to prove to me that you're good enough before I allow you to release. Understand?"
"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, determined not to let the man find any fault.
"Furthermore, I'll use something else you asked me for for your pleasure to carry out the punishment, and I'll enjoy that too." Skinner chuckled.
"Master, are you going to punish me with birch branches?" Mulder lowered his head, noticing his penis was starting to leak.
"Yes, Fox, Master has decided to punish you severely with birch branches." Skinner told him in a cold tone.
Mulder swallowed hard; he knew this was the punishment he deserved, though just imagining it was enough to make him tremble.
After seeing his master off, the first thing Mulder did was lie down and carefully examine the back of the washing machine, and sure enough, he found what he was looking for. He reached in, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and dragged her out, then lifted her to her feet.
"Well, miss, you've gotten me a good whipping," he said, staring into Wilda's fierce green eyes. "Look into my mouth. I don't want you to have any doubts. From now on, this is a battle. Understand?"
Wilda twitched her tail angrily. Mulder nodded. "Yes, you think he belongs to you, but he's mine, ma'am. So, watch out." He opened the laundry room door, threw her onto the floor outside, and then slammed the door shut in a show of force.
Mulder spent the entire afternoon in a state of unease. He longed to experience the fun in the playroom, but his fear of the birch branch was growing stronger. He had never tried this particular form of punishment before, so it didn't help him at all, and he didn't know what to expect.
In the evening, he finished his work in the laundry room and went to report to Skinner.
Skinner was working at the dining table, with Wanda perched on his shoulder, her soft fur wrapped around his bald head like a ruffled collar.
His master couldn't possibly be feeling well, but Wanda was undeniably comfortable; her contented purring could be heard from the next room. Skinner was also gently stroking her tail as he worked, carefully tending to her, afraid of scaring her away.
Mulder gave his enemy a vicious, fake smile, warning her to leave and return his "beloved servant" to him.
When Skinner inspected his work, Mulder held his breath, desperately praying no flaws would be discovered.
However, his master seemed quite satisfied, instructing Mulder to take a relaxing bath before going to the playroom.
Skinner unlocked the padlock on the chastity belt and pulled it away from Mulder's penis. Instantly, Mulder's penis almost inevitably became erect. Skinner quickly removed the gold ring, and Mulder's penis immediately leaped into a state of near-certainty, as if it had never been released before.
"Careful," Skinner gently patted it, "You haven't received my permission yet; you'll have to work harder to earn it." He told his slave.
Mulder took a deep breath, his face contorted in a grimace.
"I said relax!" Skinner smiled and kissed his forehead. "You'll experience pleasure and pain, fox, but it won't exceed your limits."
Mulder nodded, then dashed to the bathroom, his body already aroused by the anticipation.
When he finished showering and reached the game room door, it was ajar. He knocked.
Skinner opened the door, and for several seconds Mulder simply stood there, staring at him: Skinner had changed into tight leather pants, his upper body bare, revealing broad, powerful shoulders and strong, taut muscles, looking like a god, making Mulder eager to kneel at his feet.
Skinner led him into the room. Mulder noticed the harness was already in place, several pulleys suspended directly from the glass ceiling.
"I think I told you to relax," Skinner frowned.
"I am relaxed, Master," Mulder lied, and a standard heavy blow landed on his backside because of his lie.
"Then why are you trembling?" Skinner stretched out his long arms and wrapped them around Mulder's neck, pulling him into his embrace, offering him absolute warmth and security to calm his trembling.
Finally, Mulder's trembling subsided. Skinner released his grip, took a step back, and his expression turned stern again.
"Hold your hands together," he commanded, then handcuffed Mulder's wrists and ankles with fur-trimmed shackles, followed by a wide, soft leather strap around Mulder's abdomen. "This will support your back," Skinner told his slave.
Mulder nodded; the strap felt comfortable, just like the shackles.
"Now go and fetch me the birch branch from the cupboard," Skinner ordered.
Mulder swallowed hard, almost reverently removing the instrument of punishment, and returned it to his master with both hands. His master was busy adjusting the height of the harness.
Mulder knelt at Skinner's feet in obedience, eyes on the ground, offering the birch branch with both hands, his entire being brimming with wild emotions, the fear of the impending danger long since overwhelmed by awakened excitement.
Skinner, satisfied with his work, turned to his slave but did not take the birch branch. He placed a finger on Mulder's chin, lifting his face to look him in the eye.
Mulder trembled involuntarily—Skinner's expression was resolute and stern.
"This will be a real punishment, Fox," he told the kneeling slave.
Mulder swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Master, I understand." He tried to keep his voice from sounding too hoarse.
"Punishment is to teach you a lesson—I want you to think about what you should learn from this punishment," Skinner told him. "When I punish you, I hope your suffering will first prompt you to think."
"Yes, Master," Mulder said, trembling again.
Skinner gently stroked his hair, comforting him, "It will be tough, little guy, but you'll make it."
Mulder closed his eyes, nodded, cold sweat seeping from every pore of his body.
Skinner took the birch branch from his hand and placed it on the table beside him.
"Your feet," he commanded, and Mulder quickly crawled over. Skinner seized Mulder's shackles and belt, fastening them to the harness, then tested each connection for security until he was absolutely certain. Satisfied, he stopped, gave his slave a brief kiss to reassure him, and then quickly lifted the shocked Mulder into the air.
Caught off guard, Mulder cried out, but he immediately relaxed, beginning to savor the sensation. In fact, it was incredibly comfortable; his body was supported, as if he were flying.
Finally, he was stopped at waist height.
"I won't leave this room while you're bound," Skinner told him. "If you feel uncomfortable anywhere, you must tell me immediately, it's important, understand?"
Mulder nodded immediately.
His breath caught in his throat as Skinner picked up the birch branch.
Mulder was extremely nervous, but Skinner simply moved the branch slowly along his back to between his spread legs, then over his penis and scrotum, and down to his feet.
Mulder lost sight of his master, then reappeared after a while, brushing Mulder's torso with the tip of the branch. It was light, just a little itchy, not painful.
"I think you should see yourself being punished," he said, then placed a large, gilded-framed mirror against the "throne" opposite Mulder.
Mulder watched himself suspended on the harness, like a bird soaring through the air.
There was a strange beauty to his enslaved state, Mulder thought, and seeing himself bound and unable to move, begging for his stern master's forgiveness sent a shiver of awakening through him. He looked at himself, imagining Skinner looking at him: a bound, naked man awaiting his master's attention.
Skinner moved to his side again, continuing to brush Mulder's bare limbs with the birch branch, gently scraping his chest, grazing his nipples, making Mulder gasp.
Then he stopped, shifting his focus to Mulder's buttocks.
It didn't hurt at all; in fact, it created a wonderful, prickly sensation on his skin.
The birch branch once more traveled along his buttocks and thighs, reaching his feet. Now Mulder understood why Skinner had said he could use the birch twig as a tool for pleasure; the gentle scraping felt erotic.
But without warning, the scraping turned into whipping.
The twig fell harder and faster on his naked flesh, making him gasp and cry out.
Skinner ignored his writhing and continued wielding the birch branch, primarily targeting Mulder's exposed buttocks, but occasionally striking elsewhere, making Mulder extremely tense, unsure where it would land next.
When the tip of the branch lashed his bare back, it brought double the pain, making Mulder suddenly understand Skinner's earlier warning—this was a real punishment.
"It stings, Master!" he gasped.
"Yes, slave, that's how it feels," Skinner replied, swinging the branch even harder.
Mulder began to sob, struggling on the harness, desperately trying to escape the torture, knowing this thing would surely tear him apart.
"Please, Master…it hurts me…ow!…it hurts…" he sobbed desperately.
“It’s a punishment, fox, and it will only hurt you more until I’m done,”
Skinner informed him experiencedly. “Now, have you thought about what you’re going to learn from this punishment?”
“No! Yes… I… Oh!” Mulder gasped.
“Hmm?” Skinner pressed.
“It’s difficult to talk now, Master, when you are… oh fuck!” A scab fell on Mulder’s shoulder, making him cry out in pain, then fell on his thigh, before returning to his already throbbing buttocks.
“I’m waiting.” Skinner drew a deep welt on Mulder’s buttocks, bringing tears to the helpless man’s eyes.
“What will you learn from your punishment?” Skinner pressed relentlessly, his tone unwavering.
Mulder knew that the torment would never end unless he gave a satisfactory answer.
"Learn… to leave without even trying!" he gasped.
"No," Skinner slapped him hard. "That's not what you're being taught.
Think again." Mulder racked his brains, desperately trying to find the right answer.
He saw himself being punished in the mirror. His tall, strong, cold, and capable master eased his trembling, leaving him overwhelmed by the intense sensory stimulation of the pain. He felt his penis throbbing and glistening with a beautiful sheen.
"Lesson… I was thinking… Oh! I said I was thinking!" Mulder cried out in pain as the birch branch savagely pierced his flesh.
"Hurry up," Skinner commanded. "This isn't a difficult lesson, Fox, and I sense you've learned more from it than the punishment itself intended."
Mulder recalled the day's events, all the scenes flashing through his mind like a kaleidoscope.
He saw himself ironing clothes, saw Walda sitting on the refrigerator glaring at him, saw himself in jeans and a t-shirt sitting on a recliner, and then saw himself loudly telling his master he was leaving.
"I can't be rude to you!" he gasped, pleased with himself. "I'll never curse you or throw a tantrum like that again... I swear... aarrrrgghhhh!" He screamed as the birch branch, as always, landed on his upturned, waiting backside.
“If you can manage that, that’s good,” Skinner chuckled, “but I can’t guarantee I can control my temper. And it’s not a lesson I want you to learn from this punishment. Think again.”
“I can’t take it… Master, please!” Mulder pleaded, feeling he was about to reach his limit. If this punishment could pause for a second or two, he could think things through, but the birch branch continued its vicious work, relentless and merciless.
Mulder remembered sitting in Skinner’s little study, listening to his master talk about diving, and other things… He felt as if he were diving, suspended in mid-air.
And Skinner had also told him…
“I must talk to you, Master! I must tell you what I’m thinking and what I’m feeling, especially when I’m upset. I must be honest with you!” he shouted.
The nightmare stopped, and Mulder hung in mid-air, drenched in sweat.
Skinner cupped his face in his hands, gazing deeply into his eyes.
"Good, well done, Fox," Skinner told him, then gently nuzzled his hair with his nose, kissing his forehead and lips.
"You did very well. I'm so proud of you, little one." He continued to whisper words of praise and affection until Mulder's breathing became steady and he was intoxicated by the warm embrace.
The bitter physical punishment and the double pleasure of being suspended in mid-air like this gave Mulder.
The dreamlike feeling vanished, and he felt more real and satisfied. "Thank you, Master...
thank you..." he mumbled, not knowing what he was saying.
"Why?" Skinner asked, his voice cheerful.
"So that I... could receive more than I could have imagined..." Mulder sighed.
Skinner grinned, reaching out to smooth Mulder's hair. "I'll give you more, little thing," he promised in a deep, sensual voice.
Mulder closed his eyes, savoring the promise, the passion coursing through his body.
Skinner gently wiped Mulder's burning body with a cold, damp towel, letting it cool. He paused briefly over the marks left by the birch bark, which were already fading.
"Right away—I'll play with you," Skinner promised. "I'll slowly derive my pleasure from you, little thing, and you'll obey whatever I want to do to you. In the end, if you satisfy me, I can release you. Understand?"
Mulder nodded weakly, deciding to calm his rampaging penis until he was allowed to erupt.
Skinner adjusted Mulder's position, turned him around, and then grabbed him again, checking the rope connections to ensure his slave was safe.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," Mulder nodded, then turned to gaze at the sky outside the window.
It was getting dark, and the sky was a deep blue. A flock of birds flew into his view, turned a corner, and disappeared together.
This feeling... was indescribably good!
A small box that Skinner took out caught Mulder's attention, and he craned his neck to see what it was.
"You'll soon become very intimate with them, believe me," Skinner chuckled.
He spread and secured Mulder's legs, then stood between Mulder's open legs and, without warning, inserted a lubricated finger into Mulder's anus.
The sudden attack made Mulder gasp, then begin to pant. When Skinner's hand touched his inner thigh, the texture felt less like human skin and more like some soft, warm fur.
Looking down, he saw it was true; Skinner was wearing gloves.
His master was stroking him with a smooth, furry hand, while the fingers of his other hand continued to explore his supine slave's body, soon adding a second finger, then a third, all searching for Mulder's prostate, sending the captive man tumbling with pleasure.
"Ah, you like being touched like this…like a cat…" Skinner whispered, his gloved hand tracing Mulder's neck down to his chest.
Mulder groaned, nuzzling Skinner's hand affectionately with his nose.
Skinner continued to caress Mulder with both hands for several minutes, until Mulder felt he was about to turn into a purring cat.
Then, a warm object landed on Mulder's thigh, startling him.
He looked down and saw it was a dildo.
"It's filled with hot water," Skinner told him, the slender dildo parting his buttocks and sliding between his fleshy walls.

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