Fresh Start Series by DiAnn Fresh Start - Part 10 Rating: NC17 - SLASH/ language/ BDSM/ Violence Category: Pure Trash / Discipline / m/m Slash Warning: Scully / Mulder / Skinner Slash / Threesome Severe discipline. Mulder/Other / Non Consent If you don't like this kind of thing, or you are underage, go somewhere else . . . Please! I don't want to hear from you and I don't want to hear from your Mama. Spoiler: Very little. Summary: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and Krycek are on vacation of a slave island but find even that remote sanctuary breeched by the arm of the consortium. Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Krycek or anyone else from the X-Files. I am borrowing them without permission and am obviously not receiving money for this stuff. We all know who they really belong to, CC, Fox and lots of other people but again, not me. Special thanks to Nicole who corrects my commas and consistently tells me that I have not gone too far with the smut. Blame her. Also to Olivia who made my Aussies sound more authenic. DiAnn's Discipline Page can be found at Mulder Torture Anonymous: http://www.slashcity.com/Muldertorture/discipline/discipline.html Fresh Start Part 10 By: DiAnn "I'm not wearing that." "And might I inquire as to why my slave refuses to wear a shirt that I personally picked out for him." Skinner snarled, hoping to intimidate the stubborn man in front of him. "It has flowers on it." Mulder said in the same tone he used for dimwit law enforcement officers who refused to believe in shape shifters, vampire nests or alien visitation. "I don't wear flowers." Walter looked down at the hand-embroidered, Italian silk shirt that he held in his hand. The soft weight of it was like a whisper on his skin. It was the purest white, almost transparent, shimmering and fluid. The shirt was also embroidered in white. Ivy, so exquisite that there appeared to be drops of dew on the twining leaves. Some of the areas between the vines had been cut out forming what could be considered a lace-like design. It should, perhaps, have been very feminine but it wasn't in the least. The pattern was much too heavy and bold for any woman to wear. But on Walter Skinner's gorgeous Fox, it would be stunningly beautiful and perfect. That is if he could ever get the infuriating slave to put the damned thing on his body. He looked back up at this man who was supposed to obey his every command without hesitation, but who stood, at this very minute, rebelliously staring back at him. Gloriously naked, a gold slave collar around his neck, and the familiar green fire of defiance in his eyes. Skinner secretly loved that look. Exasperated in it, marveled at it, and often times, even strove to cause it. Mulder, spitting fire and passion from those expressive hazel eyes, and so damned beautiful it hurt to look at him for very long. "And why, might I ask, do you object to flowers?" "That's a girly shirt! And I won't wear it." "I see." "You . . .you do?" The slave asked warily. "Of course. You know that I didn't complete your punishment last night so you are arguing with me this morning to remind me of my duty to you as your Master. That's very commendable, Fox." "I . . .I didn't mean . . ." "Why don't you go get the strap or the paddle, I'll let you choose, then offer that delectable bottom to me for its first good tanning of the day." "I'd really rather . . ." "You'd rather I chose? No Fox, I insist. This first spanking was your idea, it's only fair that you get to decide how and where. Now hurry up. I have a big day planned for us, and we don't have time to dawdle over a mere first spanking." Mulder stuck out his bottom lip, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his Master. The slave sighed dramatically, and stomped off toward the bedroom. He came back a few seconds later with the paddle, threw himself over the back of a brightly upholstered chair, and released another theatrical sigh. Skinner surveyed the bare bottom presented up to him. Poor Fox. This was going to happen anyway this morning. His backside was still a little pink from last night's session, but the outfit that his Master had planned for him to wear today was meant to be accessorised by a bright, scarlet bottom. He brought the paddle down hard on one round, tempting cheek. That set the bottom in motion and the game was on. So while Mulder yelped and wiggled his tormented butt, his Master applied himself to achieving just the perfect shade of crimson from hip to mid thigh. Walter wasn't particularly concerned with inflicting a good burn this morning. Although, he had no doubt this little application was stinging mightily, but what he was after was an even, consistent, and very fiery blush. In less than twenty minutes, his diligence was rewarded when that sweet bottom was glowing like last night's tropical sunset. As an added bonus, its remorseful owner was now more than ready to get dressed without further arguments. "There that should do it. Get up and get moving, Fox. We don't have all day. By the way, you can expect to have your bottom reheated about every two hours or so today. Be ready." The Master grinned as the woebegone expression on his slave's handsome face. When the drill instructor, Scorpion, arrived a few minutes later to collect his charge, he was met by a tantalizing sight. Fox was standing in a corner wearing white, silk, drawstring pants. His freshly spanked bottom clearly visible through the filmy material. The well-toned, tanned skin of the slave's back could be glimpsed through little cutouts that adorned his gossamer thin, white silk shirt. But the most amazing thing. The thing that made Scorpion swallow hard and move his hands down to conceal his sudden arousal was that when Fox was ordered to turn and show the disappointed trainer out. There was one larger round cutout on the front of the shirt, right over the right nipple. The nipple that was always adorned with a small, gold ring. Today, from that ring dangled a thin gold chain approximately four inches long. It swayed hypnotically as the slave moved. The light catching on the gold charm that dangled down against the white silk shirt, an exquisitely crafted golden fox. "Beautiful, isn't he?" Skinner asked as he noticed Scorpion's admiration. Mulder blushed but didn't dare raise his bowed head. He didn't want to give his Master any reason to apply that paddle again. He thought his bottom was probably red enough now. The slave's eyes were focused on the patch of dark hair and hard cock that could be seen clearly through the sheer folds of the loose pants he wore. He hated being displayed in this manner but Mulder had decided long ago hat a slave island was no place to complain about his Master's fashion choices. "Ye . . .yes, sir. Beautiful, sir." Scorpion managed to choke out through his suddenly dry mouth. "You really should allow me to take him. The other guests would be blown away by the way he looks today. It could be most beneficial should you ever wish to sell him." "Fox will never be for sale." Skinner barked and then smiled as he watched his slave visibly relax. Had Mulder been worried that Skinner would grow tired of this and pass him on to someone else. Not likely! The trainer finally stopped his incessant arguing about his right to take Mulder, and was all but forcefully ejected from the suite by a throughly piqued Skinner. Walter didn't like the big trainer, hadn't from the moment he first lay eyes on him. He wasn't happy about Fox having a male trainer in the first place, although he noticed that Dana seemed relieved to be rid of the blond, amazon woman. In Skinner's opinion, Scorpion was too big, too muscular and much too eager. He feared Fox would be unable to defend himself against the larger man should the need arise. Of course he wasn't going to mention this to Fox. The agent fancied himself quite dangerous. And he was, to a certain extent, but not in a confrontation with a man the size and physical condition of this trainer. The Master attached the gold leash to his slaves collar. Kissed him soundly and pushed him out the front door to begin their day of sightseeing. Today, Skinner felt he was contributing greatly to the variety of gorgeous views available on this tropic paradise. Fox looked magnificent. For the first hour, Mulder blushed every time someone complemented on his appearance. Skinner loved every minute of it but he really wished Fox would relax just a little. He wanted his slave to have a good time today. He wanted to make this a day that his self-deceiving sub would always remember as one of the hottest experiences of his life. Anyone checking out the front of his pants could immediately see that although Fox found this embarrassing, he was also totally turned on by it. Finally, they visited a jewelry store and for the first time, Fox started to have a good time. He forgot about what he was, or more accurately, was not wearing. He became completely oblivious to the drooling people around him. There was only one thing that had his attention now. He wanted to buy Scully a present. Skinner stood, leaning against one wall, enjoying himself immensely as he watched Mulder Shop. Always entertaining, today the man was delightful. He approached his selection with the same intensity he would use if he were tracking a serial killer. It couldn't be too big and flashy, that wasn't Scully's style. It had to be elegant and expensive but couldn't be something that would elicit questions about how she could afford it on a government salary. Mulder's taste in suits could be explained by his family's money. It would be considered suspect if the Mulder fortune was being invested in extravagant jewelry for a partner. After much agonizing, and several inquiries into Walter's opinion, Mulder selected a bracelet. A circle of perfect, half-carat, emeralds with a row of diamonds on each side. Total weight, thirty- six carats of perfect stones. It was elegant, beautiful and outrageously expensive. Mulder loved it. "You don't think that might look a little too expensive?" Skinner smiled at his happy agent. "No. Remember those diamond earrings I bought for her birthday. I heard Agent Anderson tell Agent Morrison that she was certain they weren't real. As if Scully would ever wear cubic zurconia." "She might if her adoring partner weren't a millionaire." "No way. Scully's would only wear the real thing, it would just be a little smaller." "I think it would be a lot smaller, slave boy. Come on, let's hit some more stores. I'm in the mood to watch you spend your money!" They visited several more shops, picking up bottles of imported Paris colognes for all of them. A silk teddy for Scully. A remarkable leather briefcase for Skinner. Italian shoes for Mulder and an expensive leather paddle that the slave wanted very much to leave right where they had found it. But even with the purchase of the paddle, Fox couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed his money this much. Mulder was very touched when Skinner showed him the beautiful silk tie he, himself, had purchased for Mulder, and the silk scarf that would go to Scully. Mulder loved presents but had gotten very few in his life. Next they wandered into the island bookstore, and once again Mulder perused the shelves while a crowd of appreciative spectators formed around him, gaping at him. Mulder was in his own world, and had absolutely no idea he was the center of attention in the store. He looked so relaxed, Skinner almost regretted what had to happen next, but a promise was a promise. Fox carefully picked out several books for himself and Scully, and one very old, very rare first edition on the Civil War for Walter. He lay his selections on the counter for Skinner to dole out the cash, and started to wander off again, only to be stopped by a big, strong hand wrapped around his upper arm. He looked up at his Master whose only reply was to hold up his watch for the slave to see. "What?" Without saying a word, Skinner sat down in a convenient chair and pulled his clueless slave over his knees. Mulder immediately caught on to what was about to happen, but by then it was far too late. His silk pants were pulled to mid-thigh, and the excited crowd was treated to the sight of a very handsome young man getting his bare bottom thoroughly heated. The slave might not be able to stop his bottom from wiggling but he was determined that would be the only indication of how painful this spanking really was. From the first hard slap, every nerve ending reawakened, sending distress messages to his brain that his already well-spanked bottom was receiving yet another painful dose of hard discipline. He bit down on his bottom lip, tasted a trace of copper, and quickly let up again. Walter did not like his lip-biting habit in the least. He couldn't count the number of times he had received an unexpected thump to the back of his head for that very thing. The spanking continued until every inch of previously spanking skin had been carefully warmed once more. Skinner admired his work, adding a few extra slaps to ensure a bright, even color. Mulder managed not to cry but he couldn't stop a couple of yelps and the few tears that leaked down his cheeks. Walter pulled the useless silk pants up over his blazing bottom and pulled the blushing slave to his feet. "I want to go home." Mulder pouted as he rubbed at his sore backside. "No, first we're going to have lunch. Then I'm taking you to see this old fort that was used hundreds a years ago to defend this island. Very historical. And stop rubbing your butt." Mulder's lip came out another millimeter. "I don't want to see any old fort." Skinner pointed to a nearby park bench. "Okay, how would you like a close up look at the seat of that bench while I tan your hide again. Would you like that better than exploring a fort?" "No, sir." "I thought not." Walter leaned toward him a little, peering at his mouth. "Is your lip bleeding?" "No! I mean, no sir, it's not bleeding. I would know if my lip was cut or something. Let's get moving, sir. I don't want to miss that fort." "After we see the fort, it should be time to go down to the docks and pick up Alex. We'll have to see if he's in any condition to visit another attraction of two on the island. It he's too traumatized, we may have to go back to the room early after all." "Humph!" Mulder snorted. "It's more likely he traumatized everyone and everything on board that poor, unfortunate ship, including the other rats." "Mul-der." Skinner warned. The slave refused to meet his Master's eyes, instead making a careful study of his own engorged cock. He had been rock hard off and on all day. He couldn't believe this mortifying experience was actually turning him on in some weird way. As if reading his mind, Walter ran an appreciative hand over the silk covered bulge causing Mulder to gasp loudly. "I have a place all picked out at the fort to make love to you. We'll be sure to take care of this then." Mulder's erection immediately disappeared. "You can't mean . . .you wouldn't really . . . please no!" "Of course I will. You're my beautiful slave, this is a slave island, why wouldn't I want to prove my ownership publicly. It's all but expected here. Now no more discussion, let's have lunch." Mulder kept his eyes on the front of his pants as he was led by his leash to one of the sidewalk tables of the restaurant Walter had chosen for lunch. As all businesses on the island, the restaurant catered to Masters and their slaves. "Will your slave be sitting in a chair or on the floor, sir?" "Chair, please." Mulder breathed a sigh of relief until he saw his chair. While his Master would be seated in a comfortable dining chair, Mulder would occupy a slave chair. Wrought iron, beautifully and intricately designed with a rose pattern. Unfortunately the design was perfect right down to the sharp little thorns on the stems, and the chair seat had a lot of stems. The Matradee left Mulder standing while he seated Walter. "I fear our famous slave chairs will damage your boy's beautiful silk clothing, sir. May I lower his pants?" At Skinner's nod, the man reached for the drawstring at Mulder's waist. The slave's hands came up of their own violation to stop what was happening, his eyes wide and beseeching to his Master. "Fox," Skinner pointed to another table where a thronged slave was bent over receiving the business end of his Master's strap. "You're going to be applying an already sore bottom to that chair, do you really want a fresh strapping right now?" Mulder dropped his eyes and his hands, allowing the matradee to lower his pants. "There, that should get them well out of the way." Without further comment, Mulder was unceremoniously pushed down onto the diabolical chair. He hissed as his red, sore bottom came in contact with roses, stems and thorns. He squirmed once, quickly realizing that fidgeting would only make it worse. Mulder looked around at several other slave bottoms resting uneasily on these damnable chairs. All were clothed very scantily but to his dismay, he was the only one who was sitting completely bare bottomed. "You know, whoever designed this island is a sociopath, don't you?" Mulder wiggled one more time, cursed under his breath, then tried to sit as still as possible on his miserable perch. "Perhaps. But a very rich sociopath. And very creative. Scully was given some great ideas while she was here. You know, these chairs are available through one of the local shops. Maybe we should take one home with us. Scully would love it." The Master smiled as Mulder buried his flushed face in his hands, groaning in despair. "Please, no." "Uncomfortable?" Mulder felt his temper flair. "No it's just great! I'm sitting here with my pants around my knees, on a sore ass that you've done nothing but pound on for hours, and this damned chair has little pointy things that are digging into my butt and balls. It's not uncomfortable, Walter, not in the least." Mulder looked horrified as he realized what he had just said. He quickly dropped his eyes. "Sorry, sir." "It's fortunate for you, my spoiled brat, that I love you, bad attitude and all. Any other Master would have you upended over this table by now." "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The words were right but Skinner suspected there wasn't much sincerity behind them. "Stop pouting, you're not in any immediate danger," Skinner brushed a hand over Mulder's erection. "And as embarrassing as you say this is, it's still a turn on for you, isn't it?" Mulder blushed bright red, "I can't even begin to think about that aspect of myself, sir." "All right. Why don't you tell me what you think of the island then? Do you like it here, Fox? Would you like to come back here again?" "No! What I mean is, this place is . . .well, wrong, sir. Maybe not the whole club but without a doubt that trainer, Scorpion. There's something not right about that guy and I'm very close to proving it, sir. I'm almost certain he's on the Consortium's payroll and it wouldn't surprise me if this whole island wasn't connected toThem in some way." "Have you been investigating this club, Fox?" Mulder looked up and into the eyes of his Master. Uh oh! "Uh . ..no, of course not. Not really. You told me not to investigate, so . ..You know how it is, a question here, a question there. Those slave stables are pits of gossip, sir. You'd be amazed what you can overhear there." "I see. Finish you lunch, Fox. We'll be discussing this latter tonight. I want to go see that fort." * * * White Sands Beach Club Historical Fort The fort turned out to be a rather barren affair with a great view of the ocean. Walter and Mulder strolled around the ruined walls, enjoying the gentle breeze that swept across the tall hill that the fort occupied. It would have been a great lookout in it's day. Almost the whole island was visible. Mulder was standing in one of the many open windows. The roof was long gone, as were many of the alcoves that once housed cannon. The place had a peace about it that felt wonderful to the agent's battered soul. Much like the way Walter made him feel. Safe and protected from harm. Mulder was so lost in thought about his protective lover that he yelped when a strong arm reached around his waist and lifted him easily to the ground. "Hey!" Quiet slave boy. It's 2:00 and time for your next spanking. Where would you like to do it?" Mulder looked around frantically. The fort wasn't particularly crowded today, but there were still people around. He didn't see any other slaves or Masters. This looked like a crowd of the voyeurs who came to the island to watch the show the slaves were forced to put on for their entertainment. Mulder dropped his head. "Please, sir, don't do this again." "Sorry, slave boy, I promised you a spanking and I want you to know that I always keep my word. Let's go for a walk." Skinner took his arm and pulled him down one of the many paths that led away from the fort. As they walked, they encountered fewer and fewer people, much to Mulder's relief. When they reached a small stone building, practically hidden by lush foliage, Skinner hesitated not a moment before opening the door and ushering his slave inside. It was a gardener's shed of some sort, rich with the smell of peat. A large, tall workbench stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by shelves of clay pots and gardening tools. The white corrugated roof allowed the afternoon sun to warm and brighten the cozy little shed. "I found this shed on one of my walks while you were training. Since you've been such a good slave today, I've decided to administer your punishment in private this time." Mulder was appalled to hear himself thank Walter for spanking him in private. He couldn't believe how low he had fallen. Skinner hefted himself up to sit on the tall workbench, his feet resting on a stool. He looked at his slave and patted his thighs. "Over my knees, Fox, I can't guarantee the landscaping crew won't show up at any minute." "How am I supposed to get up there?" Mulder looked up at his Dom who was not seated well above the ground. "Come here. I'll help you up. It isn't often that I have an opportunity to get you in a position where those long legs of yours dangle off the ground. This is going to be great." "Yeah great," Mulder pouted as he allowed himself to be helped up and over his Master's waiting knees. Walter had been right, his feet were now at least a foot off the ground. It was a very precarious feeling. He grabbed a firm hold of the far edge of the table, trying desperately for some stabilization. He felt the drawstring on his pants loosened, and they were soon resting in a tangle at his ankles. He shivered as cool air wafted around his now bare bottom. Mulder felt a large hand rub across his sore bottom. "You are just so beautiful, Fox. Move your legs apart a little more. That's nice." Skinner shifted one knee so his slave's bottom was presented well up, the muscles flexing anxiously as Mulder anticipated yet another unwelcome bout of chastisement. Mulder hissed as a stinging slap landed on his upturned bottom. He hardly had time to register the burning pain before another was delivered to the same spot. "Ouch!" Skinner chuckled. "I see I'm not going to have to work too hard for this one, your bottom is coloring up quickly this time, slave boy."?" He tightened his hold on Mulder's waist and proceed to rain down a series of devastating slaps on sensitized skin. The slave yelped dramatically and starting kicking his feet for all he was worth. It was exactly the effect his Master had hoped for. For his part, Mulder was highly distressed by this spanking. He was certain Walter had known just how disconcerting it was to not be able to touch the ground while your backside was being set on fire. It was a very humbling experience for a six foot man. But before long, it didn't matter in the least that he was dangling over his Master's lap like a naughty six year old. All he cared about was trying to wiggle away from that punishing hand attending to his bare bottom and legs. That hand moved down to deliver several stinging blows the inside of Mulder's thighs. He yelped louder and increased the power of his kicks. It didn't help. He felt like he had sat down on a hot stove. He felt his Master's knee shift under him again, raising his bottom even higher into the air. "I know this next is going to sting, Fox, but I'd be willing to bet you will think twice the next time you want to disobey my direct orders." Skinner reached down into the crevice that separated the firm, glowing cheeks and spread the bottom open for his attention. He then proceeded to spank the delicate skin usually so carefully hidden. He spanked up one side of that tender slope and down the other until he his slave came completely undone over his knees. The crying, begging, kicking young man didn't even realize the spanking was over for some minutes while he sobbed and made wild promises of complete and utter obedience to his Master. Skinner rubbed his back until a calmed down, then carefully lowered them both back to the ground, Mulder's wet face buried in his shoulder. He hugged the man tightly for several minutes before turning him to bend over the tall stool. Mulder looked up at him over his shoulder, panic in his eyes. "Don't worry sweet boy, I'm not going to spank you again. I want to make love to you, Fox. Would you like for me to show you how much I love you, Fox? Would you like to come for me?" Mulder hiccuped once, then nodded his head. Big warm hands removed his shoes and pants, pushing the silk shirt even further up his back. A slow glide of those warm hands over his tingling skin. A hiss as the hands gently soothed his burning, throbbing bottom. "Before the Consortium captured you and gave you to me Fox, did you know you enjoyed playing spanking games?" "I . . .I don't." One of the big hands slid around the slave's belly to make contact with his swollen cock. "Really? Are you sure about that, slave boy? Your body tells me differently." "Can't . . .can't possibly get turned on my that." The big hands were gently soothing his body again, leaving a path of heat everywhere he was touched. "You're a bottom, sweet boy, I'm a top. I get very turned on by controlling you, by bending your beautiful body to my will. And part of that turn-on is knowing I'm turning you on as well." "Bu t. . . why?" The Master had leaned across his back and was delivering fiery kisses to the back of his neck and behind his sensitive ears. "Why do you get turned on when your bottom is burning so badly? Because you are a perfect bottom, sweet one, accept it. Let yourself go and enjoy what you are and what I am." A slick finger was pushed gently up inside him, making Mulder feel like the top of his head was going to come off. His bottom burned and tingled where Skinner was touching him but the real fire was burning inside him now, his cock so swollen with need he thought he might just explode. And Walter was working those big fingers up inside him, and kissing him, and whispering in his ear. Seductively. So seductively. Then he was being filled. Slowly. Completely. His scalded bottom burned as his Master's groin came to rest against his well-punished cheeks. He was burning everywhere now. But it felt good, it felt so damned good. And then his Master started to pound into him. The slap of solid flesh against other hot, aching flesh. The nerve endings in the slave's body were on fire. Pain and pleasure. Such a fine line between the two. Now they were hardly distinguishable from each other. His burning bottom, his throbbing cock. So close. So close. Then he was coming, coming so hard he thought he might pass out. He heard his Master calling his name as he pumped into him. And it was all so wonderful. So very, very wonderful. Another soft, lingering kiss to his ear. "I love you, slave boy." White Sands Beach Club Wharf He saw the huge crowd long before Skinner reached the dock where he was to collect his released slave. Walter pushed his way through the crowd, Mulder hot on his heels. If Alex were really hurt, he would never forgive himself, and those responsible would be made to pay. As he broke through the last line of onlookers, Skinner stopped so suddenly he felt Mulder crash into his back. He quickly reached around to pull his pretty slave up beside him before any of the spectators decided to grab a free sample while the grabbing was good. Now both men stood with their mouths agape. Alex Krycek, resplendent in black leather pants, white silk shirt and boots, paced the dock. Before him was a line of fishermen, all naked and holding on to their ankles. Each bare butt bore the marks of the crop that Alex was slapping idly against his palm. "Al . . .Alex?" Mulder finally managed to croak. Krycek looked around and gave a low whistle. "Now, that's what a slave should look like." He strolled over to Mulder, wrapping his arms around the surprised agent and kissing him soundly, only to be pulled off a few seconds later by an indignant Skinner. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Krycek?" "Claiming my reward. I spent two days on that stinking boat because I saved your brat's cute little ass. The least you can do is let me enjoy my homecoming." Mulder looked over at the bent fishermen, eyes wide with surprise. "What did you do, Alex? I thought they were supposed to be raping you." "Not hardly. Oh at first, the captain there, thought that was the way it was going to go," he turned around toward the men. "Gustov, tell my little Fox how you tried to rape me that first day." A large, older man near the end of the line slowly rose to his feet and turned, blushing furiously as the eager gathering got their first look at his exposed cock. "I . . .it is expected, Mr. Krycek. It's why slaves are sent to my ship, to be punished." "But who really got punished this time, Gus?" "We did, sir." "That's right, you did. Turn back around, captain, and show off your welts to these nice people." "So you weren't forced to have sex with them." Mulder whispered as he eyed the line of beaten and humiliated seamen. "No, my little boy scout. I wasn't forced to have sex with them. I forced them to have sex with me. Or rather, two of them. The rest weren't up to my standards. Mike turn around so Fox can get a good look at you, you too Mick." Two tall, dark young men rose and turned toward Alex. "I used up most of that bag of lube and condoms on these two." The two handsome sailors smiled sweetly at Alex. "The rest just did their jobs under my watchful eyes. You'd be surprised how many fish a naked man can haul in while under the threat of a good lashing. This is the biggest haul they've ever brought in." "Krycek, I swear," Walter blustered. "I can't turn my back on you for a minute. Let these men go and let's go back to our room. Fox has some explaining to do about investigating when I ordered him not to do so, and I think you need to explain your behavior on that boat." Alex and Mulder watched as Skinner stalked off, never once thinking that his two slaves would dare not follow him. "Nice pants, Mulder." "You're not a bottom." Mulder accused as he eyed the man in black leather. "Wow Spooky, what gave you your first clue?" "Then why are you pretending to be Walter's slave?" Krycek reached out and ran a finger down Mulder's smooth jaw, only to have his hand slapped away. "Because, wonder boy, that's the only way he'll let me near you." Alex wrapped one hand around Mulder's waist and the other around the back of his neck, pulling those lush lips to his own. The kiss was passionate and deep and Alex could hear Mulder moan deep in his throat. He hoped it was desire and not just lack of oxygen. Abruptly Alex found himself kissing thin air as Mulder was pulled away and thrown behind his big Master's back. "I've told you not to kiss him, Krycek. You just won't listen, will you?" "Give it up, Skinner. Fox wants me. That should be more than obvious to you by this time." "The only thing that's obvious to me, Alex, is that you . . ." Mulder rolled his eyes. Nothing like a little shouting match to decide who got to fuck the slave first, and right here on a crowded dock to boot. Shit! At the moment, Mulder didn't care if he ever saw either one of those bullies again. They were treating him like a piece of property to be owned. It made his furious. He turned and fought his way back out of the crowd. The naked fishermen had all scurried back to their boat and he could see them now, all dressed again and preparing to unload their catch. He glanced back at Skinner and Krycek who were still arguing loudly. Mulder sighed and starting walking back toward their suite. It would tick Skinner off, but what the hell, everything Mulder did ticked Skinner off one way or another. Mulder was still furious when he arrived back at the room. He quickly stripped off the disgusting white silk and put on his favorite faded jeans and a t-shirt. The only underwear he had been able to find were leather thongs and silk bikinis, which he rebelliously refused to wear. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd had to forgo boxers under his jeans. In fact, during the old days when he lived alone in Alexandria, doing his laundry had been a necessity but not always a priority. So a couple of times he had been gone bare-assed under his Armani too. He came back out into the sitting room, still grumbling under his breath, only to stop short. "You shouldn't be walking around by yourself, pretty boy." A large man in a dark suit stood smirking at him. "Who are you? How the hell did you get in here?" He continued without giving the intruder a chance to answer the question. "I'd suggest you leave the same way you came, my Master will be here any minute. And besides that, I can take care of myself." "I'm Melvin Buckles, little Fox, and believe me I'm most happy to finally meet you again." He reached out to draw a finger down Mulder's smooth jaw. "And are you sure that you can take care of yourself?" Mulder knocked his hand away. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Now if you'd please leave, I have some things I need to do." Mulder turned only to be confronted by two more linebackers wearing black suits and smirks. Mulder attempted to make a dash around them but was quickly caught from behind by Buckles. The last thing he remembered was a sweet smelling cloth being placed over his face. * * * El Santuario Ranch 24 Hours Later The big bodyguard looked down on the handsome young man who lay sprawled on the leather couch. Carl Evan Adams, was six foot four inches tall and weighed almost three hundred pounds. All of it pure muscle. He diligently lifted weights, and ran ten miles every day. He had worked for the Perry- Hoskins family for twelve years, and was fiercely loyal, at least to two of the three. At the moment, he was thoroughly disgusted by what Joshua Hoskins had done by kidnapping this young man. He also knew that Marcus Perry, Joshua's half brother, would not be happy to see Joshua had come to for an extended visit with his ill-gotten gains. Marcus and Joshua's mother had buried two husbands. Stewart Perry had been a big, hard-working, raw-boned Texas millionaire, rapidly approaching fifty years of age when he had married nineteen year old Miss Texas, Patricia Sands. Marcus had been born one year later. Only three months after that Stewart had dropped dead of a heart attack while attempting to break a half-crazy bronco. His death had broken his wife's heart. But two years later, Patricia, now all of twenty-two, had found a second and even richer husband, the devastatingly handsome, Nigel Hoskins of New Zealand. Joshua had been born one week before his father was killed in a hunting accident. After that, Patricia had sworn to never remarry again. Keeping true to her word, she had spent her days dividing her time between her huge cattle ranch in Texas, an even bigger sheep spread in New Zealand, and a town house in New York. Early on, it had become obvious that Marcus Perry had inherited his father's large, muscular frame as well as his remarkable head for business, while his younger brother, Joshua, was incredibly handsome and completely useless. He cared not one wit for adding to the family fortune, instead opting to spend his days gambling and jet setting with the rich and beautiful. Two years ago Joshua had become a member of a group called The Consortium. They tolerated him for his money but let him in on none of their secret agenda. That was fine by Joshua. He didn't care much for political intrigue but he liked the power that was available to him through his association with the group. And he especially liked their sex slaves. Marcus was the one the Consortium really wanted to join them, but he would have nothing to do with the corrupt old men. But his words of warning to his brother fell on deaf ears. Mulder woke to a dull headache and a bad taste in his mouth. He slowly opened one eye. He was lying on a couch in someone's sitting room. Open, spacious and very masculine. It was a nice room, warm and sunny, with a cool breeze drifting through several large windows. He noted that he still wore his comfortable jeans but that was it. He was barefooted and his favorite t-shirt was missing. Still, jeans was a hell of a lot better than nothing at all. A very large man dwarfed a leather wingback chair, as he calmly read a newspaper, ignoring Mulder's attempt to make some sort of sense about what had happened to him. "Where am I? Where's Walter?" Carl did not want to get into this with the man. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cellphone, dialing a number from memory. "He's awake." "Who was that? Who did you call? Why won't you answer my questions?" Mulder's head jerked around as the door opened and a man came into the room. He was probably in his mid forties, an inch or so taller than Mulder but with more bulk. His hair was silver, full and thick. His face tanned and handsome. But it was his eyes that caught Mulder's attention. Blue, almost the same shade as Scully's but without the warmth that lie in his partner's beautiful eyes. Cold, cruel ice-blue eyes. Mulder knew he had seen this man before but he just couldn't place where it had been. He slowly sat up on the couch, desperately trying to shake off the fuzzy feeling from him mind and just how much trouble he was really in this time. "Really, Fox, so many questions. You do live up to your reputation, now don't you? Unfortunately, that inquisitiveness isn't all that attractive in a sex slave. I'll enjoy training you as you were meant to be trained. You can go now, Carl. I'll take care of Fox from here." "But sir . . ." Carl thought that his employer was very much underestimating the attractive, young man whom he had captured. Carl had been a bodyguard for a very long time, and he knew a scrapper when he saw one. This was no compliant little slave boy, this one was trouble. Mulder's mind was going a hundred miles an hour trying to place that Australian accent. He had heard this man speak before, but where? "I think it would be best if you just let me go right now. My Master will be looking for me. He's a very dangerous man." He was relieved to hear his voice sounding steady and calm, even a little dangerous he thought. "I'm sure he is, Fox, but I'm not overly concerned. You belong to me now and I really doubt that your former Master will be able to get you back. So, would you like something to eat before we start your training? You're going to need your strength, Fox." "Uh . . .yeah. Could I have some water." "Of course you may have some water, precious. Follow me." Mulder cringed at being called precious', Walter had better get here, wherever here was, quickly or Mulder might just have to kill this guy himself. "Stop pouting, precious, I know you're not one of those pretty slaves that likes to be pampered and coddled, and you don't like the name I've chosen for you. I'll call you or do to you, whatever I like, when I like. You had best get used to that, pet." Mulder gritted his teeth as he followed the man through the large house. It appeared to be a ranch house of some sort, or perhaps just decorated to resemble one. He noted where all the doors were located, all the time shuffling through his mental files trying to locate the name of the man who now claimed to own him. Abruptly, Mulder stopped in his tracks. "The poker game! You were the one who accused Walter of cheating you when we were at that damned camp the last time." "Very good, Fox. You were a little preoccupied that day, I wasn't sure you would remember me. I'm flattered." "Don't be." With a growl, Joshua Hoskins turned to grab this disobedient slave. Mulder did an impressive little hop jump, turning to his right. He placed both arms over his face and threw himself through one of the large windows. He could see a porch outside. He tucked and rolled and was on his feet running before Hoskins knew what was happening. Unfortunately for Mulder, Carl was stationed right outside the front door. It took him only a fraction of a second, after the agent came crashing through the window, to pursue his boss' reluctant slave boy. He took the younger, smaller man down easily. Quickly rolling off the slender body as the boy tried to breath again. "That was a mistake, kid. You'd better learn or Joshua will have your hide hung up on that barn wall over there." A still gasping Mulder lifted his dust covered face to see that he was indeed on a working ranch. High wooden fences separated pens of horses, neatly kept barns, outhouses, and about eight men in dusty dungarees and cowboy hats, all staring down at him. "You catch yourself a rustler, there Carl?" One of the men laughed as he spit a mouthful of tobacco juice into the dirt beside his feet. "More like I caught the rustled, Jim." Carl dragged Mulder to his feet just as an infuriated Joshua Hoskins arrived on the scene. "Tie him to the fence, Carl." Joshua gritted out. "Shorty, go get that buggy whip from the barn. I need to teach my property a lesson in obedience." The cowboys eyed each other in shock as Big Carl tried to reason with his boss. "You don't want to do this, sir. Mr. Marcus will be furious." "I could care less what Marcus thinks. Now get him spread out on that fence." Carl reluctantly pulled a furious Mulder over and using some horse lead that he had been handed by one of the cowboys, tied the struggling slave so his arms were pulled high above his head and secured to the top pole of the fence. Joshua came over, his handsome face distorted by anger. He ran a hand down Mulder's trembling back. "You ever been whipped, precious?" "Don't call me that!" Mulder hissed, glaring into those cruel blue eyes. "I just knew you would be every bit the challenge I imagined you to be. It will take me months to break you, and then when you have learned to whimper and cringe every time I so much a look at you, I'll sell you to the highest bidder. Carl, take down his pants." "Sir, I don't think this is . . ." "You're not paid to think, Carl. If you won't do your job, and follow my orders I'll have one of the boys go get Buckles to help me." Melvin Buckles was Joshua Hoskins other body guard. A big, quick- fisted Aussie with a mean disposition that made his boss look like a saint. Carl did not want him around Fox. It would, of course, be inevitable sometime in the future but maybe Carl could secretly get word to Marcus before this all got too much out of hand. Not that it wasn't already a fuck-up of gigantic proportions. Carl reached for Mulder's zipper, quickly pulling the jeans down to the man's ankles. He moved away, looking around the group of hard working ranch hands. Simple men who lived simples lives, away from the concept of pretty sexual slaves being beaten for pleasure. A couple of them looked fascinated at the naked beauty displayed before them, two or three others looked aroused but the remaining cowboys looked to be somewhere between disgusted and angry. Carl watched as his employer shook out the whip. It wasn't a particularly viscus looking instruments as such things went. A couple of feet of light braided leather with a small knot at the end, all attached to a handle. The bodyguard was pretty sure that even though it would sting like the devil it would not cut the boy's smooth skin to ribbons. It Mr. Hoskins proved him wrong, Carl had every intention of stepping in to stop this farce. The whip snapped out and landing with a hiss and a pop against one broad, smooth shoulder. Mulder threw his head back and gasped. Carl looked closely. There was a livid, red welt standing out brightly against the golden skin but no blood. Joshua better make sure it stayed that way. The leather hissed through the air again, this time biting into the bare backside in its direct path. Mulder bucked hard against the heavy wood of the fence but made no sound. Again a raised welt began to form before their eyes. The whip popped again, vibrating loudly in the now silent air of the corral. Mulder moaned this time, a line of fire extending from right shoulder to left hip. The whip began to descend on the slave in a steady cadence. Shoulder to mid thigh, each lighting strike painting a raw, burning welt in its wake. Each stroke now eliciting a moan or yelp from the unfortunate recipient. Almost all of the onlookers now looked slightly sickened by what was happening to the young man's bare, unprotected flesh. The strokes began to fall repeatedly on Mulder's naked backside. Each stroke earning cry of distress from its hapless owner. Twenty five stripes now decorated the man from shoulder to thigh. Two more lashes were quickly laid on to form an X' across the already ravished bottom, this time earning a full throated scream for the efforts of the chastiser. "Enough!" Carl put up one big hand, catching the whip handle in mid air. "No more, Mr. Hoskins." "You dare to . . ." Hoskins looked around at the gathered men. He didn't like the accusation that he saw in many an eye. They would get used to this in time. Fox was his slave and he would do what he wanted to him. And if these men wanted to keep their jobs they could just enjoy the show or look the other way. Hoskins looked around, dismayed to see that Carl had already taken Fox off the fence, pulled up the jeans, and stood with the wounded man in his arms. "Pu . . .put me down. I can walk." "Shut up, kid. I'm the only friend you have right now." Carl ignored the glare of his furious boss as he started back toward the ranch house. His heart sank when he heard Mr. Hoskins fall in step behind him. He had hoped to get the kid to bed without any interference. Upon reaching his entryway of the house, Carl started to ascend to one of the second floor bedrooms only to be met by Melvin Buckles. Buckles eyed the limp man in Carl's arms with a smirk. "Did I miss something, Carl?" "Get out of my way, Buckles. He needs to lie down for a while." Hoskins came through the door, smiling up at Melvin Buckles. "You're back! And just in time, it seems that Carl has lost his taste for slave owning. Give Fox to Melvin, Carl." "He needs to rest, sir." "He'll rest when I say he can rest. Give him to Buckles." Carl Baker reluctantly handed over the man in his arms to Melvin Buckles, who gave him an evil look as he hefted the slave in his arms causing Fox to cry out as he welted back came in contact with the guard's hard, muscled arm. "Get your first spanking, did you, pretty boy?" Buckles jostled him again as he followed Hoskins into the den. Carl watched them disappear inside before he went in search of a private phone. * * * El Santuario Ranch Later that Evening Joshua Hoskins looked up as the den door flew back on its hinges, crashing against the wall with an ear shattering racket. "Marcus, so nice you could make it home." Joshua said, an indifferent expression gracing his handsome face. Marcus Perry in no way resembled his half-brother. Where Joshua was considered extremely good-looking, Marcus could be called ruggedly attractive. A big man, well over six foot tall. Well developed muscles that attested to the fact that he was as comfortable on a horse as he was in the boardroom. As the president of Perry-Hoskins, Inc., Marcus spent most of his time in New York but not by choice. He often wished his brother would show a little interest in the family business and take some of the burden off Marcus' own shoulders. He now eyed his ner-do-well brother suspiciously. "I could say the same for you, brother. The last I heard you were busy fleecing all the fine gentlemen of Melbourne out of their cash." "Only for sport, Marcus, you keep me more than adequately supplied with funds. For which I am most grateful, by the way." "Grateful enough not to cause embarrassment for the company, or for our mother?" "You know I'm mum's darling boy. She'd never believe a word of any idle gossip she might hear about me." Marcus ran an exasperated hand over his face. Joshua was forty-two years old and his brother was still as big of a pain-in-the-ass as he had been as a wild teenager. A soft moan caught Marcus' attention, causing him to look into one corner of the room. Shock registering on his face as he saw a naked man hanging by his wrists from the ceiling of his den. "What the hell!" "Oh calm down. He's mine. You don't have to worry your busy little head about him." Marcus walked over to stand in front of the suspended man, studying him closely. He was very pale, the long dark lashes standing out dramatically where they lay on those ashen cheeks. In fact he was so pale he almost appeared to have a blue tint to his skin, especially his lips. Lips which Marcus noticed were quite beautiful. He was also shivering and his teeth were chattering although the room was comfortably warm. Suddenly before his very eyes, the bound man began to flush. He groaned loudly, his body shaking, as his skin heated to a bright red from hairline to navel and perspiration began to drip from his face. "What the hell's wrong with him?" "Sensor balls." Joshua held out his hand. In the middle of his palm lay four round metal balls, about the size of large gumballs. Two were blue and two were red. Marcus looked at his brother in confusion. "I don't understand." "Mr. Spender from the Consortium gave them to me. You put one of each in the slave's mouth, and one of each up inside his rectum. Now I don't know how this next part works but for fifteen minutes he is freezing from the inside out, then it all changes and he's on fire. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen." "How long have you had those things inside him, Josh?" Marcus asked as he raised one of the slaves' eye lids to peer at the dilated pupil. The man's skin was burning up. Shit! "Couple of hours I guess. He needed to be punished." "Get him down from here now, Josh. Can't you see the man's in shock. You're going to kill him if you keep this up much longer." Marcus started to reached for the cuffs on the prisoners wrists but was stopped by his brother. "No, don't you touch him! He's mine." "You're not going to kill a man in my house, Josh. Get those damned things out of him and do it now." "I decide when he's been punished enough, Marcus. You stay out of it." Marcus Perry looked around to see the slumped slave start to shiver as his skin cooled rapidly. "This is the final straw, Josh. Who the hell is this man anyway?" "His name is Fox, and he's my new sex slave. Cute isn't he?" "Fox? Fox?" Marcus ran a hand over his tired face. "I've heard that name somewhere . . .I just can't . . ." He turned on his brother. "Fox! Please tell me this is not the handful that was given to Walter Skinner by that despicable group of old men you insist on associating with." "And what if it is?" "It's no secret that Skinner threatened to kill anyone who touched this man. Your arrogant friends are beginning to see that they made a mistake when they forced Walter Skinner into the roll of Master. He seems to take his job very seriously where Fox's safety is concerned. And now you . . . Are you completely out of your mind, Josh. I told you that you should stay away from that group of old deviates. This is going to get you killed for certain." "I'm not afraid of Assistant Director Skinner." Joshua's voice dripped with disdain. "You should be." Marcus looked over his shoulder to see Mulder's skin flush red and perspiration bead on his lip once more. Shit! He had met Walter Skinner at several political functions. The Assistant Director was intelligent, polished and dangerous as hell. Discrete rumor also said that the man was obsessively in love with his slave', Fox Mulder. Shit! Shit! Shit! Joshua had to be insane to pull a stunt like this. Joshua turned his back on his brother, staring out the window at the now darkened pastures beyond the house. "Stay out of this, Marcus." "How can I, when you've brought him to my home. Why didn't you take him back to New Zealand with you? Oh wait, I know. You were afraid Skinner would track you down there, weren't you? I thought you weren't scared of him, Josh?" Hoskins stalked across the floor, opening the door, and yelling for Melvin Buckles to come in and get Fox down. As soon as the restraints were released, Mulder's knees buckled and he tumbled into Buckle's waiting arms. "Melvin, get him cleaned up, then put him up in my room." Marcus didn't miss the look of cruel delight that crossed the big bodyguard's homely face as he quickly left the room. "You better watch Buckles, Josh, if he hurts that boy Skinner will take it out of your hide." "Skinner! Skinner! Skinner! I'm sick of hearing that name! Just leave it alone, Marcus. And leave Fox alone, too. I know he's just your type but he belongs to me. Don't be forgetting it, big brother." Marcus laughed without humor. "You don't have to worry about that, Josh, I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. Unlike you, I'm smart enough to fear Assistant Director Walter Skinner." * * * El Santuario Ranch 2:00 a.m. Marcus awakened from a deep sleep but he wasn't sure what had disturbed him. He listened for a moment, but hearing nothing he nestled back down in his warm nest of blankets. Then he heard it again. It sounded like a wounded animal. He rose quickly, donning robe and slippers as he moved out into the hallway, again pausing to listen. There it was again, so low he had to strain to catch it. It was coming from his brother's room. Marcus moved as quietly as possible to stand before the closed door. He ever so carefully reached out, silently turning the knob. He breathed a soft curse as his eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through the open curtains of the room. He could see Josh's figure sprawled across the bed. His brother had obviously found his comfort in a bottle of Irish whiskey again tonight. His drunken snores echoing throughout the room. But it was the still figure, lying naked on the floor, that captured his attention. Josh had apparently not seen fit to give his purloined new slave either clothing or a blanket. The man was curled up in a tight, shivering ball, his teeth chattering loudly. Intermittently he would utter a low moan. This is what Marcus had heard from his room. Marcus reached down, shaking one of the man's cold shoulders. "Hey, get up and get in the bed." The naked man didn't respond. Maybe he was more unconscious than asleep. This worried Marcus greatly. When Carl had called him, telling him he needed to get back to the ranch, the big man had refused to elaborate on what was happening. Only that it concerned Josh and was deadly serious. Marcus truly feared that Josh had gone too far this time. If he inadvertently let this boy die, or hurt him badly, Walter Skinner would exact revenge of the worst kind. And that group of old men that Josh admired so greatly wouldn't lift a finger to stop it. Marcus walked over to stand beside the bed. He reached down and shook his brother until the man's eyes opened slightly. "Your slave' is cold. You need to put him under the covers with you." "I don sleep with laves." Josh mumbled as he turned over and buried his face in his pillow, immediately starting to snore again. Marcus sighed heavily. Fine, if that's the way Josh wanted to play it, Marcus wouldn't mind keeping the pretty boy warm for the night. Maybe it would teach Josh a much needed lesson. With considerable effort, Marcus got Fox on his feet and moving toward Marcus' own room. The boy was shivering and limping badly. "What's wrong with you, Fox? Did you hurt your leg?" "Ra . . .raped me." Mulder whispered. Marcus stopped dead in his tracks, too stunned to go further. "Are you saying Joshua raped you or just had sex with you?" "Raped. . .me, son-of-a-bi . . .bitch." "I can see how you might feel that way, although I doubt my mother would appreciate the sentiment." He steered his new charge over to lie face down on the huge bed. As he inspected the damage that had been done to Skinner's boy, he felt a cold knot of fear developed in the pit of his stomach. "Was it just Josh, or did Buckles get involved as well?" "Just . . .just Hoskins." "I need you to just hold still, Fox. I have to examine you, make sure that drunken fool brother of mine didn't cause any permanent damage." "No! I'm . . .I'm fine." Mulder tried to wiggle free of the big hands that held him face down on the bed. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax." Marcus found himself becoming totally captivated as Mulder blushed and squirmed throughout the entire examination. The area was very red but the big rancher could find no sign of any tearing. He gently patted the taut bottom that was presented up for his inspection. "All done now, you can get under the covers. You haven't been with a lot of men have you?" "I have now." Mulder pouted, further enticing his new admirer, who smiled down at him affectionately. Marcus watched as Mulder immediately burrowed down into the thick covers. The rancher removed his dressing gown, thankfully crawling under the warm, waiting covers himself. Mulder was cold. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this cold. He felt a source of warmth settle down beside him and without delay wrapped himself around it. He didn't care if it was Cancerman himself at this point, he just wanted to be warm again. Marcus' breath caught in his throat as the firm, slender body cuddled up next to him and then tried to burrow in even deeper. It was like the man wanted to inch his way right inside the larger man's body. Not that Marcus would mind that, although he would prefer to be the one doing the inching. He ran a hand down Mulder's back and bottom, grimacing when he felt the welts still raised on the taut globes. He felt the young man tense in his arms and then attempt to again bury his nose in the older man's warm neck. Marcus chuckled. "So what they say about you is true. Beautiful to look at, exasperating to deal with, and a real charmer when you want to be." He kissed a perfectly formed ear. "So Fox, how are we going to get you back to Skinner without getting all of us killed in the process?" He rubbed his chin on the soft, dark hair. "And will I even want to give you back by then?" "Skinner?" The slave mumbled sleepily before falling sound asleep. Marcus smiled and kissed the top of the dark heard. "A real charmer." Marcus felt that he had no more than closed his eyes when he was awakened by a blast of cold air and the frantically thrashing body beside him. He reached out to try to calm Fox but immediately pulled back his hand as it exploded with pain. He struggled to sit up, only to be met with the sight of his irate brother swinging a belt down on Fox's exposed body. "You're my slave! Mine! I won't let you abandon me for my brother. You're going to pay for this, slave." "Josh stop!" Marcus made a wild grab for the swinging belt, successfully catching it on the third attempt. Mulder lay withering and moaning beside him. He had been totally unprepared for the attack, and had little reserve left after the events of the last thirty-six hours. "I brought him in here, Josh. He was freezing last night and I couldn't wake you up. He isn't going to be much good to you if he dies of pneumonia, now is he?" "He's mine." Josh pouted. "If he belongs to anyone, which from what I hear is highly doubtful, it would be Walter Skinner, Josh. You have to get out of this now. He was asking for Skinner last night. He wants to go back. Find a way to get him back to Skinner before its too late." Hoskins reached down and pulled Mulder to his feet, keeping one hand on his arm as Fox swayed dangerously. "Come on, slave, you have another lesson to learn about sleeping where I tell you to sleep." "Josh." Marcus scrambled out of bed, following the other man and his staggering captive back to Josh's room. Holding his breath as Josh pushed Mulder through the open door, the dazed man landing with a strangled cry as he hit the floor hard. "Position three, slave." Hoskins ordered. Mulder just looked up at him, defiance in his eyes. Hoskins brought his retrieved belt down hard on Mulder's chest. The slave hissed with pain, but refused to follow Hoskin's command. "Josh, stop!" Marcus grabbed his brother from behind, forcing him against the wall with his greater bulk. "You can't do this. What the hell is wrong with you?" "He's my slave!" Hoskins shook off his brother but didn't try to resume Mulder's beating. He turned to the two big bodyguards who now stood watching the scene in front of them. "Carl, give Fox some breakfast. I've laid his cloths out on the bed. Make sure he's dressed and ready to meet me downstairs in one hour." Buckles started to move toward the man still curled up protectively on the carpet. Carl put out one big arm to stop him. "He told me to take care of him. You'd best go see to Mr. Hoskins, he had a lot to drink last night. He might need one of you to make one of your special cures' this morning." "But I want to . . ." "I know what you want to do, Buckles." Carl gave him a warning look. "This boy is off limits to you. He has enough trouble at the moment, and I'm afraid his trouble is going to multiply ten-fold and come back to bite all of us in the ass. Now just go downstairs and let me handle this." Buckles left, with only one covetous glance at the beautiful slave on the floor. Carl and Marcus moved to help Mulder to his feet. Carl raised a questioning eyebrow as his boss pulled the trembling young man into a strong embrace, holding him tightly as Fox moaned softly. "Please, Mr. Marcus, not you too." "Uh, no, of course not, Carl. I just . . .just . . ." "Yeah, I know. He does have a way of getting to you, doesn't he? What are we going to do, sir? Your brother is going to kill this boy, and then we'll all be dead men, if we aren't all ready." "I have to leave for New York this morning, Carl. See if I can get this mess straightened out without losing my only brother. Though why I should care at this point if beyond me. Walter Skinner is a reasonable man, at least usually. Maybe he has a pain-in-the-ass brother, too, and will be at least a little understanding. Until I can get back, you need to keep an eye on things. The whole thing will go to hell, for all of us, if that boy gets badly hurt while he's here. Keep Buckles away from him." "That won't be easy but I'll try." After Carl had Fox soaking in a hot bath, he walked in to get the clothes Mr. Hoskins had indicated he wanted the boy to wear for the day. Carl looked down at the bed in astonishment, sighing heavily. Not only was Fox going to throw a fit as he tried to dress him but some of the straight ranch hands were not going to like this either. Carl had been right, getting his charge dressed had turned into a major fiasco. Only when Carl bluffed that he would go get Buckles to help him did Fox settle down and allow himself to be prepared for his day with Joshua. Mulder followed Carl down the stairs, face flaming, to be met by a grinning Hoskins and Buckles. "You look great, Fox!" "Yeah, Fox," Buckles leered. "You were born to wear cowboy clothes." Mulder felt his face heat another degree. He was indeed wearing traditional western wear, boots, hat, stiff leather chaps, a red neck bandanna and even worn work gloves. Not a problem except that it was all there was. No shirt, no pants. It appeared that Joshua Hoskins expected him to spend the day with his cock and red ass on full display. Hoskins stepped forward, ignoring his slave's flinch and glare for the moment. He tied a thin strip of leather, attached to an eagle feather, to the small gold ring that adorned Mulder's nipple. "Beautiful," he breathed as he admired his embellishment. The feather tickled as it dangled against Fox's chest, but it was a mild irritation compared to his still burning ass and his deep humiliation. "Come on, Fox. I want to show you around the ranch. This is going to be your new home for a while." Mulder hesitated as Hoskins attempted to pull him out into the bright sunlight but when the man started to reach for his belt, Mulder thought better of his defiance. He wasn't sure he could take another public beating right now. Mulder kept his head down as he was marched by the men working around the ranch. Upon finally reaching the horse barn, Hoskins noticed a new thoroughbred mare in one of the first stalls. He immediately launched into a discussion with the young man who was brushing the animals silken coat. Mulder saw another man standing in the middle of the barn leering at him. As the stranger walked closer, Mulder felt his mouth go dry. He knew a dangerous man when he saw one. This was no ordinary cowboy. When he was standing so close Mulder could feel the warmth of his body, a big stubby hand reached out to caress the agent's bare chest.. "Well now, you're a right pretty one, aren't you?" When Mulder did nothing but glare back at him the cowboy chuckled and reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "Want a smoke, boy?" No one was more surprised than Joshua Hoskins as Mulder dropped to his knees at the stable hand's feet. "What the hell did you do to him?" Hoskins demanded. "I was just makin' conversation with him, Mr. Hoskins. Maybe he just likes me." "You'd better hope that isn't the case." Hoskins pulled Mulder to his feet, one hand wrapped around the slave's upper arm like a band of steel. Joshua cautiously waved a hand in front of Mulder's face. "Tell me exactly what you said to him, Hash." "Told him he was pretty, which I'd be willing to bet was not a big news flash for him, then I offered him a smoke but he . . ." Mulder suddenly omitted a low growl and viciously shook off the hand that was bruising his upper arm. "Get your filthy hands off me!" "Hum-m-m-m, that was interesting." Hoskins brows knitted in thought as he stared at his glowering slave. "Well, back to normal I see. Fox, show Mr. Hash your bottom and ask him to pick out a nice riding crop for you." "I . . . You can't," Mulder looked into the insane eyes of his captor and knew he had little choice at the moment. The man was dangerous in his madness. He slowly turned his back on the leering stranger. "Mr. Hash would you choose a crop for me?" Hash ignored the beligerant tone to the request and made a great show of examining the bottom presented for his inspection. He made Mulder bend at the waist as he ran his hands over the still warm flesh. "I have just the thing for you, slave boy." Hash left for a moment and returned to hand Mulder a wicked looking black crop. "This is just the thing for marking insolent little slave boys pretty bottoms. My guess is by the time you get back here, you'll be hanging over that saddle instead of sitting in it." Joshua chuckled. "You're probably right, Mr. Hash. You hang on to your crop, Fox, I'll ask you for it each time I need it. Now mount up." Mulder obediently mounted the horse when it was brought to him, surprised and angered when Hoskins swung up into the saddle behind him. Before he could properly protest, the big man had put one arm around Mulder's waist and pulled him tightly back against his chest, kicking the horse into a gentle gallop. A gallop designed to torment Mulder's already sore backside as it was now pounded against hard, relentless leather. * * * One Hour Later His well-toned muscles rippled with strain as he stood on tiptoe, his arms stretched and tied to a sturdy eyebolt in the ceiling. It had been a long time since he had felt this kind of paralyzing fear. He shuddered as he looked into his kidnapper's cold, sadistic eyes. This man would enjoy hurting him. "Now, Mr. Scorpion," Skinner snarled at the quaking man hanging in front of him. "Let's talk about Fox." The End Chapter 10