Fresh Start Series
by DiAnn


Fresh Start - Part 11


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, Skinner, Scully and Krycek take a vacation on a 
slave island. 

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. And to 
whomever the poor soul was who wrote to ask when this would be done . 
. .and I immediately lost your e-mail . . . sorry. 

DiAnn's Discipline Page can be found at Mulder Torture Anonymous:
http://discipline.tvheaven.com//diann/diann.html
Or the Persuaders Archive :
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Aurora/8903/index.html 

Fresh Start Part 11
By: DiAnn 

Mulder was white-hot, insanely, blindly, dangerously furious. He could 
feel the always tenuous hold on his infamous temper slipping rapidly. 
He closed his eyes trying to force his mind to bring forth the calming 
voice of his Master or maybe Scully telling him to just cool it. To 
remain under control, and not get himself hurt before they could 
rescue him. The little exercise in restraint wasn't helping much this 
time.. 

He had been riding in the saddle in front of Joshua Hoskins for well 
over an hour. An hour of pure hell. The man had set a pace with the 
horse that was meant to slap Mulder's already sore butt against the 
leather saddle with maddening consistency. And to make matters worse, 
the man's hands had explored every inch of the agent's body that was 
so shamelessly exposed by the leather chaps he wore. Mulder was more 
than ready to blow a gasket, and be damned the consequences. 

Just when he was sure he was about to do something characteristically 
rash and dangerous Hoskins stopped his horse beside an outcropping of 
large rocks. "This should do it." 

Melvin Buckles laughed evilly as he dismounted, coming around to pull 
Mulder down from his uncomfortable perch. 

"Get your damned hands off me!" 

Buckles shook Mulder roughly, "Shut up, slave boy. You're in need of a 
good thrashing if you ask me. You don't know your place." 

Hoskins slid gracefully from the horse. "Lay him over that rock, 
Buckles." He chuckled as Mulder struggled against his captor. "My 
brother isn't here to save your sweet ass this time, brat." 

"Maybe I'll just save it myself. Omph!" All the air left Mulder's 
lungs as he was thrown face down over the unforgiving surface of the 
boulder. He felt a hand rubbing over his bare backside, and jerked 
trying to dislodge the unwanted touch. From his bent over position he 
could see Hoskins reach for his belt buckle, deftly pulling the 
insidious strip of leather from his pants. The sound made Mulder's 
skin crawl, and his temper rise another notch. 

Without any further warning the belt came down in a devastating blow 
on Mulder's butt. He bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood, 
determined not the give the man the satisfaction of hearing him 
scream. Before he could fully draw another breath the lash descended 
again, a white, hot stripe of fire across his abused skin. He 
instinctively started to rise, only to feel Buckles' large hand push 
him harshly back into place. A small choking sob escaped Mulder's 
lips, he bit down harder on his injured lip, waiting for the next blow 
to fall. 

Hoskins brought the strap down brutally again and again, loving the 
way the helpless bottom in its path was squirming so frantically, 
pleading cries of distress being cut off before they could be voiced 
by a man determined to take the punishment in silence. Hoskins 
increased his effort. He was equally determined to make his tenacious 
slave scream his pretty head off. 

"Someone's coming, boss." 

Mulder heaved a sigh of relief as the strap stopped its onslaught for 
a moment. He glanced over his shoulder, avoiding looking at his own 
scarlet bottom, to see Hoskins with his hand shading his eyes, a look 
of worry on his face as he watched a rider, still some distance away, 
but heading straight for them. 

"Shit, I think it's Uncle Joe. Melvin, you stay here and watch Fox. 
I'm going to go head him off before he gets up here. The last thing I 
need is more interfering family members poking around in my business." 

Hoskins mounted quickly and rode off in the direction of his unwanted 
visitor. When he was a safe distance away, Melvin Buckles stepped up 
behind Mulder. 

"Well, little slave boy, looks like you and I are gonna' have a few 
minutes of quality time together." He ran a calloused hand over 
Mulder's exposed and throbbing buttocks. 

"Get your hands off me, Buckles." 

"You're mighty mouthy for a lowly slave, you know that? I think you 
need a little attitude adjustment delivered through the seat of your 
pants. Oh wait," the big man chuckled, "you aren't wearing any pants. 
Too bad for you." 

As Buckles bent to pick up the discarded belt, Mulder temper finally 
reached its limit. The agent performed a perfect pivot, raising his 
right boot to connect with the big man's temple. It was a move that 
would have made his Quantico instructor proud. Buckles dropped to the 
ground, his face suffusing with angry color. 

"That was a mistake, boy." The big man snarled. 

"Bring it on, little man." Mulder taunted as he crouched, preparing 
for the fight of his life. He was committed, no turning back now, at 
least if he wanted to survive this confrontation. 

With a furious roar Buckles lunged for the smaller man, only to find 
himself with a mouth full of well placed foot. This time as he hit the 
ground belly first, Mulder was ready. Covering the dazed man with his 
body he placed an arm around the man's throat, using his other hand to 
twist his head just as Walter had shown him. Mulder winced as a 
sickening crack sounded in the quiet countryside. 

Mulder rose, the fight had ended quickly but only because of luck and 
Walter's insistence on intense sessions of survival training. Mulder 
may well be a slave but his Master saw no reason for him to be a 
helpless one. Most Masters wouldn't want their slaves to be quite so 
dangerous but Walter Skinner didn't control his property with physical 
strength, he preferred to crawl inside Mulder's head and turn him into 
a blob of ready and willing silly putty. 

Mulder felt a little nauseous. He was not a killer by nature but 
Skinner had impressed upon him that often times, it was kill or be 
killed. He was certain that this had been one of those times. At the 
very least, life would be safer without Buckles influence on the 
unstable Hoskins. Now he just had to find a place to hide the body. 

He looked around carefully. He could see Hoskins still carrying on an 
animated discussion with the person who had almost interrupted the 
man's perverted little game. Buckles horse was gone, headed in the 
direction of the ranch at the first kick of Mulder's foot. 

The agent quickly dragged Buckles body around behind the boulder, his 
luck holding as he found a crevice in the rocks big enough to almost 
completely conceal the bodyguard's corpse. He hoped to be long gone 
from the ranch before it was found. 

He had no idea which way to go to escape. There seemed to be little 
other than rolling prairie, dotted here and there with scrub pines and 
rock formations for a far as he could see. Giving Hoskins one last 
glance, he quickly set off in what he hoped was north. It was away 
from the ranch and if Hoskins saw him and followed, he would not be in 
a position to see Buckles' body. 

Mulder managed to set a good pace as he ran. He had been lucky so far, 
now he just needed that luck to hold. If he could reach another ranch, 
and assuming said ranchers would allow a half naked man to use their 
phone, he could contact the nearest bureau office and go home to 
Walter and Scully. 

He was so deep in thought it took a few minutes for him to recognize 
the sound of a horse coming up fast and hard behind him. A surge of 
adrenaline kicked in, giving him a much needed burst of speed, knowing 
full well the effort was useless. 

He felt something slip smoothly over his head and around his chest. 
Abruptly he was jerked back, his feet leaving the ground as he landed 
hard on his back in the dust. 

Hoskins slid from his saddle, the end of the lasso held tightly in his 
right hand. He quickly pounced on his runaway slave, wrapping the rope 
around his chest several times before deftly tying Mulder's hands 
behind his back then bringing the rope down to tightly encircle his 
ankles. Mulder lay in the dirt like a calf ready for the branding 
iron. Hoskins stood over his rebellious slave with what might have 
been a smile on his cruel lips. 

"Want to tell me what you think you're doing, Fox baby?" 

"Go . . .going home!" Mulder gasped as the rope around his chest 
continued to hamper his ability to draw a good breath. 

"Home's that way." Hoskins pointed back toward the ranch house. 

"My home! I want to go to my home! I want my Master!" He had been so 
immersed in his dreams of seeing Walter again and now it hurt to have 
his hopes dashed so completely. 

"I'm your Master, boy, and you'd best be remembering it. Where's 
Buckles? I told him to stay with you, where did he go?" 

"How the hell should I know?" Mulder lied as he gasped for breath. "He 
said something about needing something back at the house. Told me to 
wait for you by that rock." 

"Knowing Buckles, he probably needed a good stiff drink. I should fire 
that son-of-a-bitch, this isn't the first time he's disobeyed my 
orders." 

"Come . . . come on, Hoskins. You're breaking my heart." 

Hoskins looked down at his smart-assed slave. "You know if you'd keep 
a civil tongue in your head, life would be a whole lot easier for you. 
I would have carried you over and put you on my horse. As it is . . ." 

Hoskins grabbed hold of the rope between Mulder's boots and dragged 
him across the rough ground. The agent hissed in pain as he felt the 
skin on his naked butt and back scrape across sand and sharp stones. 
He was abruptly lifted and slung face down across the saddle, Hoskins 
mounting effortlessly behind him. For a man who spent his time 
drinking, gambling and chasing tail, Hoskins was remarkably strong. 

Arriving back at the stables, Mulder wasn't surprised when Hoskins 
ordered Colin Hash to lift him down and place him face down over a 
bail of hay, his bare backside high in the air. He couldn't help 
wiggling as the hay caused the front of his naked, sweaty body to itch 
horribly. 

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Hash handed his employer a 
riding crop and stood aside, ready for the show to begin. 

The crop stung unbearably as it descended repeatedly on his 
unprotected skin. With his hands and ankles tied so tightly that he 
couldn't even try to wiggle out of the way of the painful implement. 
He was trapped across the hay, easy prey for the crop's stinging 
bites. 

When his bottom was well striped and he could no longer hold back his 
cries of pain and self pity, Mulder felt the ropes holding his ankles 
together being cut apart. Then the boots and leather chaps were 
quickly stripped from his exhausted and pain-racked body. He held his 
breath, waiting for one or both of the men to begin raping him. 

Instead he was flipped over on to his back, two cowboys given the task 
of holding his legs spread widely apart. He wanted to scream again as 
his welted bottom abraded on the scratchy hay beneath him. 

Then his heart froze as Joshua Hoskins began to describe to his stable 
foreman the iron he wanted forged to change the 'S' brand so near 
Mulder's groin to 'JHS', his own initials. Mulder didn't remember much 
about receiving that first brand. Only a vague sensation of hanging 
upside down and intense, burning pain. Walter refused to talk about it 
at all, but Krycek had filled him in a little, and from what Mulder 
could tell, it had been bad. 

Mulder tried to kick his foot out of the cowboy's grip, only to have 
Hoskins bring the crop down hard on the inside of his thigh. 

"Ah-h-h-h-h!" 

"Stay still while Mac makes this diagram or there's plenty more where 
that one came from. You will be marked with my brand, slave boy, so 
just get used to the idea." 

Mulder closed his eyes and forced himself to remain quiet while the 
stable hand carefully traced his brand, the man's hands brushing 
against his exposed cock more times than could have possible been 
necessary. 

"When will we be ready to alter that brand, Hash?" Hoskins sounded 
aroused and excited by the prospect. 

"I'll get right on it, boss," Hash smiled into the frightened, hazel 
eyes of the man lying on the hay bail. "I used to do a little cattle 
rustling in my younger days. This brand change will be a piece of 
cake. And I'll be real careful boss, this has to be the prettiest 
piece of prime beef I've ever marked. My best guess, the new iron 
should be ready in a couple of days at the most.." 

Hoskins rubbed his hands together anxiously. "Good. I don't want to 
have to wait too long to brand him as my personal property." 

Mulder determined to be long gone from the ranch, one way or another, 
before the new branding-iron could be finished, and any additional 
branding could be done on his body. 

* * *

Ranch House
Three Hours Later 

"You look great, Fox." Joshua inspected his slave as Carl brought him 
into the library. Tight, faded jeans, nipple ring, and nothing else. 
Beautiful. "I'm having a poker game here tonight." 

"And what would that have to do with me?" Mulder snarled. 

Joshua sighed heavily. This owning a slave thing was not all it was 
cracked up to be, especially now that Buckles had obviously found 
something more important to do than his job. "You're going to help me 
win every hand." 

"You want me to cheat for you?" Mulder asked incredulously "I don't 
think so. Have you conveniently forgotten that I'm a federal officer?" 

"Not any more you're not. Have you forgotten that you're my slave boy 
now?" 

Hoskins took a step forward, trying desperately to intimidate his 
irritating slave. Said slave didn't budge an inch, he just stood there 
nose to nose with his Master, staring him down. 

Hoskins reached for his belt. 

Now it was Mulder's turn back down. "All right - fine. What do you 
want me to do?" 

"Just do the same thing you did at that other poker game." 

"Excuse me? What other poker game?" Mulder looked at him blankly. 

"You know, at Camp Fresh Start. You distracted all the other players 
causing your previous Master to win every hand. Just do that again." 

"I didn't distract anybody. I was just reading a book." 

"A homo-erotic sex novel? Is that what you were reading?" Hoskins 
leered at him. "Is that what made you so hot and irresistible?" 

"No-o-o-o." Mulder rolled his eyes at him. "It was a book on how to 
build a chicken coop. My Master had gotten this wild idea that we 
needed one in our backyard. He had me read the instruction manual 
cover to cover. Most boring thing I ever read. And then . . ." 

Mulder made sure he had the other man's full attention. Now that he 
finally had someone willing to listen to his complaints about this 
appalling injustice, he wasn't going to miss his chance. "When he did 
build the stupid thing, he let Krycek help him instead of me." 

"Chicken coop?" It was Hoskins turn to wear the blank look. "There 
must have been something else you did that night. Something that kept 
the other players from giving their full attention to the game. I 
remember I couldn't concentrate for the life of me." 

Mulder remembered Scully's little cock-tickler that Walter had forced 
him to wear under his jeans, but he wasn't about to mention that 
demonic little device. He doubted it had anything to do with the poker 
game anyway, that was just another example of his Master torturing him 
in public without anyone else knowing. "No. I read the book and my 
Master played poker. That was it." 

"Fine." Hoskins had his silently amused bodyguard pull a wing-back 
chair up close to his own seat at the round table where they would 
play cards. He, himself chose a book from the shelves and handed it to 
Mulder. "Here, read this." 

Mulder took the thick volume, reading the spine. "The Early Warning 
Signs of Anthrax'. 

"Anthrax?" Mulder blinked at his wanna' be Master. 

"You said boring. That should do it I would think." 

Mulder leafed through the book, grimacing at some of the more graphic 
illustrations. "Yeah, this makes the chicken coop book look positively 
spellbinding." 

Mulder was forced to kneel in a far corner until the other four 
players had arrived. He felt a hand close around his arm, as he was 
dragged to his feet. 

"I want you all to meet my Fox." Hoskins shoved the half-naked man 
toward where the other men were seated around the table. "He's my new 
sex slave." 

"What exactly do you mean by a sex slave'?" Frank McCord asked 
incredulously, as he checked Mulder out from dark head to bare toes. 
"You mean you own him? You can do anything you want to him?" 

"Yeah mate, he's mine to punish, to have sex with, to . . . " 

"One time," Mulder felt obligated to correct his Master. "He raped me 
one time. Not sex. Rape. Once." 

Seeing the sudden flash anger on Hoskins' face, Carl started forward, 
fear for the mouthy young slave boy clearly evident in his eyes, but 
Joshua waved him off, "Would any of you gentlemen like a drink before 
we begin. Fox would be happy to serve you." 

"I would?" 

"Yes, you would." Hoskins glared at his obstinate slave. "Unless of 
course, you'd rather show these men how prettily you can wiggle that 
cute little butt of yours while I take a strap to it." 

Mulder sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes again, giving the other 
men at the table a put-upon look. 

"See if I have this straight, Josh," Harlan Peterson laughed from 
across the table. "This pretty boy smarts off to you at every turn, 
withholds sex, and refuses to do the simplest task that you assign 
him. You know, " he chuckled, "I've got one just like him at home. All 
these years I've been calling Justin my lover, I had no idea he was 
really my sex slave." 

Joshua flushed bright red as the four men howled with laughter. 

Mulder served the drinks, testily suffering the men's awkward gropes 
and occasional slap to his sore backside. 

When the game was ready to begin, Mulder was roughly pushed down into 
the wingback chair. He sighed again, crossed his legs and lowered his 
head, squinting at the book's small type. 

"Where are your glasses?" Hoskins asked, disappointment heavy in his 
voice. 

"How the hell would I know, you're the one who had me kidnaped. Why 
didn't you tell your goons to grab them before they knocked me 
unconscious?" 

Joshua glared at his less-than-appealing slave, looking behind him for 
help from Carl. But it was quickly obvious that Carl was there to 
protect the slave, not assist his self-appointed Master. Joshua sighed 
in self-pity. He needed Buckles. No one had any idea where the man had 
gotten himself off to, and it was becoming more than obvious that Fox 
behaved much better when the big, mean bodyguard was around. 

Two hours later and Hoskins was losing steadily. He glared over at his 
slave, who was still squinting down at the book he was now holding 
right under his nose. Losing patience, Joshua slammed his fist down on 
the table, causing everyone in the room to flinch. 

"What the hells wrong with you tonight, Josh?" Curtis Jacobs snarled. 
"You haven't had your mind on one hand so far." 

"I'm losing." Josh whined. 

"Curtis is right," McCord pointed out. "Your problem is that you don't 
have your mind on the game." 

"You're supposed to be watching my slave." Joshua grumbled, glaring at 
the beautiful, half-naked man sitting by his side. A man who was now 
staring at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads and sprouted 
wings. Of course, the other men around the table were looking at him 
the same way. 

"Watching him what?" Peterson asked. "I'll admit he's easy on the eyes 
but all he's doing is reading a book. What's to watch?" 

Hoskins scowled at Mulder. "Do something!" 

Mulder's eyes widened as his eyebrows climbed into his hairline. 
Mulder looked around at the other men, who all shrugged their 
shoulders, as mystified by that command as was the slave himself. 

Carl came forward, snickering under his breath. He had accompanied Mr. 
Hoskins to that ill-fated poker game at the camp, where his employer 
had first become obsessed with Fox. Mulder. And Carl knew exactly what 
the difference was tonight. Fox had done exactly the same thing at 
this game that he had done at the other, with one small exception. 
Master Skinner knew how to play his pretty slave like a fine violin. 
Subtly stimulating the boy in ways Joshua would never understand. 
Skinner knew exactly how to make his slave an object of desire through 
Fox's own natural beauty and intense sexuality. And of course, his 
Master's firm but loving control. That was Mr. Hoskins problem, he had 
no finesse. Never had. Never would. 

"Why don't I take Fox upstairs now, Mr. Hoskins, so you can 
concentrate on your game." 

Mulder jumped up, anxious to leave the thrilling epic of Anthrax 
behind him. 

Hoskins glared at his worthless slave, then studied the quickly 
dwindling pile of money in front of him. "Oh all right, take him." 

Carl grabbed Mulder's arm, ushering him from the room before Mr. 
Hoskins had a chance to change his mind. He started for Joshua's room 
but as he passed Marcus' door he changed his mind. Joshua would stay 
up late, drinking too much. He would never miss Fox's presence when he 
finally staggered upstairs, if he made it to his room at all that 
night. But Marcus would be thrilled to find the pretty Fox occupying 
his bed when he returned to the ranch tonight. And heaven knew, Mr. 
Perry deserved a break once in a while. 

"What are we doing in here?" Mulder looked around the cozy room. 

"Would you rather Mr. Hoskins find you in his bed when he finally 
loses all his money and decides he's had enough to drink for one 
night?" 

Heavy sigh. "No." 

"I thought not. Get undressed." Carl moved to the bath, returning with 
a glass of water and a small white pill. "Take this, it will help you 
sleep." 

"I don't do drugs." 

"Look kid, I can put you in that other room. Chain you to Mr. Hoskins' 
bed and leave you there like an sacrificial offering for whenever he 
comes around enough to use you. " Carl held out the tiny pill. "So, 
what will it be, kid?" 

Mulder quickly swallowed the little white pill. 

* * *

Ranch House
1:00 a.m. 

Marcus Perry arrived home feeling the weight of the world on his 
shoulders. He had made a deal today that had left a gaping hole in his 
heart. Not that he didn't think it was necessary. Walter Skinner was 
not a man to be trifled with, especially when it came to Fox Mulder. A 
few discrete inquiries had convinced Marcus that the big AD would 
never give up his search for the beautiful Mr. Mulder. . .or the man 
who had dared to take him. He just hoped it wasn't too late already. 
It wouldn't surprise him to be awakened tonight by Skinner's 
full-fledged and deadly assault on the ranch. 

Marcus saw the light coming out from under the door of the den. He 
thought briefly about checking to make sure Fox was not the main 
entertainment for Josh's friendly little gathering. Then thought 
better of it. He just wasn't up to a confrontation with his brother 
tonight of all nights. 

Trudging up the stairs, he stopped before his door, retrieving an 
envelope with him name written on the front in Carl's loose scrawl. He 
hesitated a moment before opening it, fearing the worst of news. 
*Please don't let Fox Mulder have been injured today.* 

Mr. Perry: Happy Birthday. Carl 

Well that was certainly odd. Not only was his birthday still some 
months away, he couldn't remember Carl ever giving him a birthday gift 
before. 

He cautiously opened the door, then stood gapping at the sight that 
met his eyes. 

The only light on in the room was a small table lamp that illuminated 
nothing save his big bed. But it was what was lying on the bed that 
made Marcus' breath speed in his chest. A long, sleek, beautiful and 
very naked Fox Mulder. Spread out like some offering to a pagan god, a 
very choosy pagan god. One who would except nothing but the very 
finest in the way of human sacrifice. 

Marcus moved closer. The man was even more beautiful up close. Long 
dark lashes resting on smooth, high cheekbones. A look of such 
innocence that Marcus might easily be convinced that an angel had 
fallen from heaven to land in his bed. A very sexy angel, but an angel 
nonetheless. A gift from the gods in thanks for the long years of 
loneliness and self denial that Marcus had suffered for the good of 
his family and their business. 

The man on the bed looked so sweet, so peaceful, even with the padded 
leather cuff that held his left hand firmly to the bed post. So 
perhaps this angel was a little fallen before he landed in the bed. 
Marcus chuckled to himself, stopping abruptly as his breath caught 
once more. The angel had opened his eyes and was staring up at him 
with a wide, hazel gaze that seemed to sink to the center of his very 
soul. Then the angel smiled at him. 

"I'm cold." Mulder whispered up at the blurry figure that stood 
looking down at him so adoringly. He didn't think it was Walter but he 
could tell it was someone who meant him no harm. He didn't know how he 
knew that, he just knew. 

Without much thought, Marcus threw off his own clothing before lying 
down to wrap his arms around the poor, chilled angel. He reached down 
to pull the thick comforter up over both of them, delighted when the 
angel snuggled into his chest. 

Upon feeling the thick hair on the chest under his nose, Mulder's 
fizzy brain became convinced that he was back home and in bed with 
Walter. He sighed contentedly and began to run his lips over the 
heavily furred chest. 

Marcus sucked in his breath, running an exploring hand up and down the 
smooth skin over hard muscle that was the angel's back. He was certain 
that this was a case of mistaken identity but was beyond caring at 
this point. He needed this so very badly. How he longed to make slow, 
sweet love to this beautiful man. How he longed to sink himself into 
hot, welcoming flesh. To give as much or more pleasure than he 
received. To see the angel's eyes glaze with passion, and those lush 
lips to moan with pleasure. One night. Just one night, that was all he 
asked. 

"Oh, Master - Master - Master." Mulder chanted as he explored the 
large, well-muscled body now at his disposal. It had been so long. So 
damned long. He needed this, just for this one night, he needed to 
make love to his Master. 

Marcus was torn. He should stop this. Should tell the young man that 
he was not his Master. Was not the man he wanted. He should tell him . 
. . but oh God, it was so good. So very good. He had to sell his soul 
today, he deserved one night in heaven before his descent to hell. 

The big Texan closed his eyes, lost in sensation as the pretty agent 
worshiped his body with mouth and hand. The man was so skilled, so 
sensitive. So very beautiful. The light glistened off brown hair, 
caught in bright hazel eyes and reflected back to Marcus, making his 
libido soar. Skinner might well kill him for this but perhaps it would 
be a price well worth the value received. For just one night. 

Marcus opened his eyes, hearing the pull of the cuff on the bedpost as 
the angel tried to free himself to get better access to his lover. 
Marcus smiled down at the man, kissing him softly on his plump lips. 
"Quiet angel boy, I'll come to you." 

He reached for the lube and condoms, situating himself between the 
begging man's sprayed legs, hesitating just a moment to taste the hard 
shaft pointing up at him. He carefully prepared Mulder to receive his 
body, delighting in the process of stretching him. Then he carefully 
slid into the hot opening offered up to him. 

"Oh, Master!" Mulder hissed with pleasure. 

Marcus smiled down at him, slowly and carefully seating himself fully 
into the oh so willing angel. Then he began to rock, and learned that 
the angel came equipped with a very extensive vocabulary when he 
needed it. Marcus wondered where the boy had learned all those exotic 
phrases. Some he recognized, some he did not. All were words of need, 
expressions of pleasure or curses designed to move Marcus to greater 
haste. If he had not been so lost in his own lust, Marcus would have 
found it all extremely amusing. He did so love pretty, demanding, 
smart-assed little subs. And this one was perfect in every way. 

Marcus held back as long as he could but it was just too good. Feeling 
himself on the edge, he reached down to gently stroke the angel's hard 
cock. It took surprisingly little effort and the angel was throwing 
back his head, screaming his pleasure at the top of his lungs. The 
shock of it sent Marcus to his own satisfaction, if perhaps a little 
more quietly. 

Pulling out gently, Marcus collapsed beside the spent angel. Mulder 
immediately snuggled back into his chest with a contented sigh. A soft 
knock at the door had Marcus scrambling for the discarded comforter. 

"Who is it?" 

The door opened, and Carl stuck his head inside waving a key. "How 
about I let the boy loose now so both of you can get some rest." 

Marcus chuckled at the big bodyguard. "Did you feel you had to bind a 
man with chains to get him to stay in my bed, Carl?" 

"No, sir. It was all for show." Carl smiled at he released the slim 
wrist from its padded prison. Mulder immediately threw the freed arm 
across Marcus' chest. 

"I wouldn't have thought he would have accepted another lover so 
easily." Marcus observed as he kissed the dark head so close to his 
lips. 

"Oh I might have given him a little something to help him along and 
relax his inhibitions. He's quite dedicated to Mr. Skinner, but I'm 
sure you showed him some much needed comfort, and besides he likes 
you. He'll have no regrets." 

"Well, I will if Skinner finds out." 

"You can trust the kid, Marcus. I think he understands loneliness and 
need better than most." 

Marcus sighed sadly, gazing at his fallen and well-used angel. "I'm 
not sure he even knew it was me who was making love to him." 

Mulder stirred but didn't awaken completely as he was cleaned up, and 
tucked back down into Marcus' warm arms for the night. 

"I need to go back to Walter, Marcus." A soft whisper. 

The big Texan looked down, surprised but delighted that the agent knew 
who was holding him so tightly. "I know you do, angel boy. I'll take 
care of it. You can trust me." 

"I know." And Mulder was sound asleep. 

* * *

White Sands Beach Club
Master Skinner's Suite 

Skinner should have felt guilty. He stopped his pacing for a moment to 
look up as Sugar yelled once again. He really wasn't into punishing 
women but then again it wasn't him who was causing such torment for 
the amazon drill instructor. 

Scully had flown back to the island the minute he had called to tell 
her that Mulder had been taken. She had been enraged upon learning of 
the duplicity of the two club trainers. 

Skinner watched as she allowed the riding crop in her hand to snap 
against one of the blond woman's naked breasts. Skinner felt himself 
wince for the woman. That had to hurt. Her body was welted from neck 
to knees, both sides, with particular attention having been paid to 
breasts and ass. And those tight nipple clamps, pushing those bits of 
tender flesh out to better receive the bite of the crop, that had to 
add to the torment. Skinner very much doubted this woman would involve 
herself in the Consortium again. She seemed to know little about what 
was going on. Had just blindly followed her big, dumb boyfriend. Only 
to end up sharing his painful fate. 

Scorpion hung limply from his own harness. Krycek had taken over when 
Skinner lost patience with the man. Walter felt sure that Scorpion had 
told them everything he knew. He did not, however, believe that the 
man who stole Fox would take him to the Orient as he had told 
Scorpion. But where would he take him? That was the question. 

Scully walked up beside him. "What are we going to do with them?" 

"There's a man who owns his own private slave island. He has agreed to 
put both of them into his personal stable. He's into pony-slaves - 
bridles, bits, tails and stinging whips applied to naked rumps. He's 
very excited, thinks these two will make a pretty pairing." 

Scully's eyebrow rose. Skinner was sure she was going to object to 
federal officers engaging in white slavery, but once again she 
surprised him. 

"Sounds good to me." She glanced over at the well-punished duo. "Can 
we trust the man? I don't want to ever lay eyes on those two again." 

Now it was Skinner's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Yes, I trust him. He 
has more power than money, and that's saying a lot. He'll make sure 
these two pay for their sins while they pull a cart around his 
secluded island. No one will ever see them again. Except for a few of 
Mr. D'Angordio's very special guests that is." 

Two hours later, six large men came to collect Mr. Philippe 
D'Angordio's' new pony slaves, Scorpion and Sugar, a matched pair. 
Skinner, Scully and Krycek didn't bat an eye as the two were 
forcefully pulled from the room, begging for mercy. Skinner was a 
forgiving man, except where Mulder was concerned. Those two had made a 
fatal mistake in hurting Fox. And so had the man who had stolen the 
agent. 

Skinner resumed his pacing while Scully and Alex sat on the couch 
staring into space. 

"Okay," Walter stopped in front of them. "Here's what we know. A 
member of the Consortium stole Fox. He had wanted him for a long time, 
first seeing him at that damned Camp Fresh Start. He has, of course, 
taken him off the island. I'm think we should call that cigarette 
smoking bastard and . . ." 

He was interrupted by the phone. 

"Let the machine get it." Alex snarled. 

"It could be Mulder." Scully reminded him as Skinner grabbed it on the 
second ring. 

"Skinner." 

"What? - If you've - What do you mean by that? - Of course I will.- 
I'll call when we arrive." He slammed down the phone. 

"We're going back to D.C." Skinner told his anxious companions. "That 
was Mr. Lawrence George of Fitzpatrick, Hanson and George, New York 
City. They want to meet with me tomorrow in regards to my lost fox." 

* * *

Law Offices of
Fitzpatrick, Hanson and George
New York City 

Skinner sat nervously in one of the expensively decorated conference 
rooms at the swanky Manhattan law firm. He had growled at the young 
clerk who had greeted him, offering coffee, then felt a little guilty 
when the young man had practically run from the room. A waste of a 
good scare tactic on a kid who didn't have a clue why the big, angry 
man had been asked here today. 

Skinner rose to his feet once more as the conference room door opened. 
He was prepared to attack but had the wind taken out of his sales as a 
petite blond woman entered the room. 

Patricia Perry-Hoskins was still a very beautiful woman. Entering the 
room with a sad smile on her face. A face belying its years by at 
least a decade. She was dressed in a smart suit of soft gray, the 
lighter gray blouse and pearls softening the look. Making her appear 
confident but approachable. The woman oozed charm and style. 

She held out a perfectly manicured hand for him to shake. "My name is 
Patricia Hoskins but most everyone calls me Trish. I do hope you'll do 
the same." 

Skinner took her hand, the puzzled frown still on his face. "Walter 
Skinner." 

"Yes I know. I've heard a great deal about you. My son is quite an 
admirer of yours, Assistant Director Skinner." 

"Your son?" 

"Marcus Perry. He's CEO of Hoskins-Perry, Inc. He tells me that you 
two have met at several political functions." 

"Oh yes." Skinner smiled as a face slipped into place with the name. 
He had very much liked Marcus Perry. "May I ask what all this has to 
do with a fox?" He asked cautiously. 

The smile left the woman's face, replaced with what looked like grief. 
It frightened Skinner. When she saw his expression change, Trish 
reached out and patted his hand. "Your Fox is fine. I'm the one who 
has lost someone in all of this." 

"I'm afraid I don't understand." 

"Please sit down, I'm afraid I must tell you a story." When they were 
both seated in the comfortable, leather chairs, Trish Hoskins took a 
deep calming breath. "Marcus is my oldest son, I also have a younger 
son. Joshua Hoskins." 

She looked to the man for some sign of recognition. Relieved when she 
saw none. Perhaps Josh had not gotten as far into this Consortium 
thing as she had feared. 

"Joshua has always been a . . .well, a challenge. Not like Marcus at 
all. Josh was wild and unruly from birth. I'm afraid he was 
responsible for the kidnaping of your Agent Mulder, Assistant Director 
Skinner." 

She couldn't help but flinch at the intense rage that instantly came 
across the big man's face. She really couldn't blame him. 

"Has Fox been hurt?" Skinner ground out between his teeth. 

"I'd like to tell you no, Mr. Skinner, but I won't lie to you. My son 
had some delusions about having a sex slave, and was often times 
unkind to your agent. I am so sorry." 

"Where is he? Where is Agent Mulder? I want to see him now." Skinner 
rose from his seat, but felt compelled to be seated once more when the 
lady gently laid a small, restraining hand on his sleeve. 

"He's safe, and most anxious to see you, but I must have some 
assurances first, Assistant Director." 

"I don't make deals, Mrs. Hoskins." 

"I'm not fond of them myself, but in this case I have no choice, and 
I'm hoping you will see the benefit as well. As of this morning, I 
have committed my son, Joshua to a private mental hospital. In this 
too, I had no choice. He is quite obviously in need of professional 
help. I have no idea if he will ever recover enough to rejoin the real 
world. Should Josh be returned to me, I want your assurance, Assistant 
Director Skinner that you will not kill my son in revenge for what he 
did to Fox Mulder." 

Skinner again rose from his chair, unable to sit still any longer, not 
only for his own anxiety over Mulder, but because of the grief he saw 
etched so plainly in Patricia Hoskins' lovely face. Skinner paced the 
conference room. 

"Am I to assume that if I don't agree to this, you will not return my 
agent?" 

"Oh heavens no! I would never do that. I know that Fox Mulder is much 
more than an agent to you, AD Skinner. I would never be so cruel as to 
keep him from you. And even if you loved him less than he loves you, I 
could never do that to him. He's really a very charming young man." 

"Occasionally." The AD gave her a wry look, relaxing somewhat for the 
first time in a week. "Then what . . ." 

"What do I bring to the table? The Consortium, Mr. Skinner. If you 
allow my son to live, I will help you bring down that evil group of 
arrogant, old men. Perry-Hoskins is a highly successful and powerful 
company and we are a wealthy family. Our well-placed influence could 
do much to help you and your friends expose these men for what they 
are." 

"They're dangerous men, Trish." And was gratified to see her eyes 
light up at his use of her first name. 

"We're well aware of that. But Marcus and I both feel strongly about 
this group. We hold them responsible for part of Joshua's breakdown. 
My eldest son is quite heartbroken over the forced hospitalization of 
his only brother. Joshua was ever a challenge but he was still much 
loved by his family. We understand the desire for revenge, AD Skinner, 
and while we wish to deny you that release, we want it for ourselves. 
Our only hope is that you would also derive some satisfaction from 
seeing the Consortium crumble." 

Skinner studied his feet for a moment, then turned to look at the 
woman seated at the table. "Agreed." 

The woman gave him a gorgeous smile. "Thank you, Mr. . ." 

"Walter." 

Another blinding smile. "Thank you, Walter. Now come with me, there's 
someone who wants very badly to see you again." 

Skinner felt a little like a puppy, anxiously hopping along behind 
her, wanting to get to their destination with all possible speed. She 
stopped at another closed door, opened it onto a room very similar to 
the one they had just left. Except this one contained a fox. 

Mulder was busy pacing the room, just as Skinner had been doing 
earlier. Upon hearing the door open he turned quickly, his eyes 
lighting up at the sight of his Master. He wanted to throw himself 
into the other man's arms but instead glanced distrustfully at the 
woman by Walter's side. 

"Assistant Director Skinner, sir." Mulder tried to keep his face 
impassive but finally gave up and let the relieved grin cover his 
whole face. 

Skinner couldn't help smiling back at him, holding out his arms. "Come 
here. I've missed you, brat." 

Mulder gave one more weary look to the beautiful woman, then did as he 
was told, finding himself embraced in warm, strong and oh so familiar 
arms. Tiny kisses landing over every inch of his face. 

Patricia Perry-Hoskins, tears filling her bright blue eyes, slipped 
quietly from the room. 

* * * Their House Outskirts of Washington D.C. 

Mulder was practically knocked off his feet the minute he stepped 
through the door by a flying bundle of red hair and even redder lips. 

"Oh Mulder! I was so worried about you." Again his face was being 
covered with tiny, loving kisses. He wasn't going to complain. 

Mulder looked around, sighing with relief. Home. He felt a profound 
sense of peace settle over him. 

His illusion was soon shattered when Scully announced that she had a 
plane leaving in one hour to fly her back to her brother's house. The 
baby was improving daily but her family still needed her. Mulder got 
one more good kiss and she was gone. He stood looking at the door for 
several minutes, feeling abandoned. He had missed her so much but he 
did understand about her family. Who wouldn't want their MD/sister 
there when they had a sick infant? 

He felt Skinner's arms wrap around him, a warm mouth nuzzling his 
neck. "It's good to have you home, my beautiful Fox." 

Mulder took in a shaky, aroused breath. "It's good to be home, 
Master." 

Skinner turned him in his arms and covered his lips with his own hot, 
wet mouth. The kiss was deep, meaningful and thoroughly arousing. When 
Mulder was finally released, his knees were so weak he would have 
fallen had his big Master not had a firm grip on him. The warm mouth 
moved up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe. 

"Take off your clothes, Fox." 

"Yes sir, Master!" Mulder began to tear the clothing from his own 
body, anxious to have his Master make love to him. He wanted to feel 
like he was really home and that everything was back to normal. 

Mulder kicked his last article of clothing carelessly away from him. 
Naked and melting into the arms of his Master. 

"Should I undress you now, Master?" The slave whispered hopefully as 
Skinner's tongue delved into his ear, then moved to suck at the corner 
of his mouth. 

"I prefer," Skinner's tongue licked at his slave's full bottom lip 
causing a hard shudder to course through Mulder's body. "To remain 
dressed when I punish my naked slave." 

Mulder's head snapped back, his eyes wide. "Punish?" 

"Of course. Did you think I wouldn't punish you for leaving that dock 
without me, and getting yourself kidnaped? Do you have any idea how 
worried I was about you? You know when you make me worry about you, I 
always take it out on your butt. Did you think all the rules had 
changed because you were kidnaped?" 

"But . . .but . . .but . . .I just got home." 

"Yes, I want to get this over with, I'm expecting a business associate 
for dinner. If you're a good boy, you'll be allowed to dress before 
our guest arrives. Now go to the playroom and bring me your choice of 
a paddle and a nice, pliant switch. We don't have much time, and I 
want your bottom good and sore this evening. You deserve it, and I 
don't want to delay this lesson any longer than has already come 
about." 

"No." Mulder glared at the big AD. He had already made up his mind 
that this slave business had to come to an end. Enough was enough. "I 
refuse to be a slave to anyone, ever again. I came to my senses in 
Texas. This is all too ridiculous, and I refuse to play this silly 
game any longer." 

"Is that so?" Mulder backed up a step as Skinner advanced on him. 
"Marcus Perry told me how you defied his brother at every turn. How 
frustrated the man had become when he had been unable to control you. 
Not surprising. What is surprising is that you think to pull the same 
crap with me." 

Mulder backed up a few more steps. "It's just that I . . .I . . ." 

Skinner advanced again, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm. Mulder 
couldn't take his eyes off the bulging muscle being revealed from 
under that sleeve. "I don't want to be a slave anymore." 

"That's too bad. You belong to me. Or have you forgotten that little 
fact?" 

When Mulder felt the wall against his back, Skinner reached out 
bracing a hand on the wall on each side of his slave's dark head. 
"Answer me, slave boy. Who's your Master? Who do you belong to, body 
and soul?" 

"I . . . I . . ." Mulder squeaked, his mouth almost too dry to form 
the words. His Master's dark brown eyes boring into him. "Yo . . .you, 
Master." 

"That's better." Skinner backed away a step. "Now I'm going to inspect 
my property, tan your hide for leaving that dock and then, you're 
going to help me prepare dinner." 

Mulder didn't dare meet his Master's eyes. "I thought you would be 
glad to see me." 

"Oh I'm glad to have you home, Fox, have to doubt about that. You are 
my heart, but you are also my slave. I think it would be best if we 
quickly rid you of any bad habits you may have picked up the past 
week. Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for me to show you how 
delighted I am that you've been returned to me." 

Mulder sighed with resignation. He was back home all right. He 
suffered thorough a very thorough examination. His Master assuring 
himself that no permanent damage had been done to his stolen property. 
Once Skinner was satisfied that Mulder has been returned in the same 
condition as when he had been taken, the slave trudged to the playroom 
to retrieve the dreaded paddle and even more dreaded switch. He 
shuddered as he picked up the thin, whippy instrument of torture. He 
hated the deep, biting sting of a switch on his bare butt. It always 
left thin, livid welts that took days to fade and made sitting down 
comfortably impossible. 

Skinner walked around his slave who was positioned on elbows and 
knees, nose pressed firmly to the carpet, butt high in the air - 
Position 3. Skinner watched his waiting slave flinch each time he 
slapped the switch lightly against his own thigh, pausing every so 
often to whip it through the air, gratified to see his slave tremble 
each time the switch made its ominous, trademark swishing sound. 

"Get that bottom up higher, Fox. Arch your back a little more and 
offer it right up to me. You know you've earned this punishment so I 
want you to keep your butt well up and at the best possible angle to 
fully appreciate every stroke. Are you ready to begin?" 

"I . . .I . . . yes, Master." Mulder shut his eyes tightly, his full 
attention focused on his bare, defenseless bottom as it waited high in 
the air, offered up perfectly, if not willingly, to his Master's 
chastising hand. 

There was a moment of deadly quiet and then a whistle as the switch 
cut through the air , landing with fiendish intent on the tightly 
stretched, tender target in its path. The switch seemed to sink into 
the unprotected flesh, hesitate a moment and then spring back leaving 
a white-hot, burning stripe in its wake. 

"Ah-h-h-h-h-! Oh sir, please. That hurts!" 

"I'm certain it does. What is this punishment for, Fox?" 

The switch made another visit to the defenseless backside awaiting its 
painful descent. Two more smarting welts appeared before Fox could 
gain enough breath to answer his Master's question. 

"Oh! Ah-h-h-h! For leaving the dock without permission, sir." 

Three more lashes on the now dancing bottom. 

"Lift your bottom up more, Fox. I'm sure you don't want me to have to 
inconvenience myself to find my target. It's your responsibility to 
make sure that you are properly positioned to reap the full benefit of 
my generous attention to your disciplinary needs. I am honoring you 
with my time and efforts, Fox, remember that. And do hold still so I 
can place these strokes properly. A beautiful bottom like this one 
deserves to be adorned with perfectly straight markings." 

"Oh-h-h-h! But it hurts, Master." 

"So you've said. Maybe next time you'll do as you're told instead of 
trying to ditch me at every turn." 

Ah-h-h-h-! Oh I will! Oh! Ouch! I will, sir. I promise. Ah!" 

"Why did you leave the dock, Fox?" 

"Ouch-h-h-h! Oh! Oh! You . . .you were involved with . . .with Krycek. 
Ah-h-h-h! I didn't think you would . . . Ouch! . . . notice. 
Oh-h-h-h-h! Please, Master. Please!" 

So you were jealous?" Skinner continued to visit the vicious little 
switch upon his slave's lurching buttocks. "My beautiful, pampered and 
spoiled to the bone slave was jealous because I was having an 
argument, on a public dock, with another man." He delivered a 
particularly wicked stroke to the tender area where Mulder's thighs 
met his bottom. "Is that the way of it, pretty Fox? You left the dock 
alone because you were jealous?" 

"Yes! Ouch, please sir, not on my thighs. Oh! I . . .I was jealous so 
I just went back . . . Ah-h-h-h! . . .to our room!" 

Skinner looked down at the scarlet, wildly wiggling bottom still 
obediently raised for correction. The simple switch was a remarkable 
instrument, rasing an impressive crop of beautiful, throbbing, scarlet 
blisters with very little effort. 

He brought the switch down twice more on the twitching bottom, 
watching as the muscles seemed to quiver after each stroke, trying 
desperately to ease some of the intense sting imparted by the supple 
switch. 

"All right, Fox, you can get up now." 

When a shaky Mulder finally gained his feet, he looked at his Master 
beseechingly. "Can I rub, sir?" 

"Finally! I can't believe you have finally learned to ask permission." 
He smiled as his slave started to move his hands down to sooth his 
inflamed bottom. "The answer is no." 

"What!" 

"You heard me, hands on your head and into your corner to think about 
how you can improve your behavior in the future. A stinging bottom 
should help you to concentrate. Then you can have your paddling." 

Mulder hands dropped from his head as his mouth fell open, although he 
still hopped from foot to foot trying desperately to alleviate some of 
the sting in his well-striped bottom. 

"My butt is already on fire. I don't deserve a paddling." 

"Don't you think I should be the judge of that, slave boy?" 

"It isn't fair." Mulder stomped his foot, then immediately regretted 
it as his Master's face darkened. "I want to renegotiate this 
arrangement that we have." 

"I wasn't aware that you were involved in the original negotiations. 
As I recall, you were carried into that room, dressed in those damned 
black 'adventure' clothes of yours, and so out of it I doubt you knew 
your own name. I can't for the life of me remember anyone asking your 
permission to offer you to me as my slave." 

"Exactly! It wasn't fair." 

"You're absolutely right." If Skinner hadn't been so angry he would 
have found the relieved expression of Mulder's face to be extremely 
amusing. "It wasn't fair at all for them to saddle me with such a 
miserable excuse for a slave, but I've come to accept my fate, even to 
be grateful to that old man for giving you to me. At least," he gave 
his shocked slave a withering look, "most of the time." 

"I'm a miserable excuse for a slave?" Mulder asked, his eyes shadowed 
with hurt. 

"The worst I've ever seen. But, none the less, you are mine and I love 
you, so your ownership isn't going to change. Now, get in your corner. 
When you think you're sorted out in your own mind that you are my 
slave and that you will be my slave for the rest of your life, you can 
bring me the paddle and very politely convince me to blister your 
backside for you." 

Mulder opened his mouth to argue further, but changed his mind at the 
fire that was burning in his Master's black eyes. Drawing in a 
hitching breath, that sounded almost like a sob even to his own ears, 
he turned on his heel and walked to stand facing a corner of the room. 

Mulder leaned his head against the cool wall. How had he gotten 
himself into this, and more importantly would be honestly even want to 
get out of it? He couldn't imagine his life without his Master, and 
Scully or even this house. Now Krycek was another thing all together, 
Mulder was pretty sure he could live very happily without him. But 
this security he felt with Skinner was worth far more than any freedom 
he might have had before his first ill-fated visit to Camp Fresh 
Start. He quickly became lost in thought about his first few weeks as 
Walter Skinner's slave boy. 

He could hear his Master puttering around in the kitchen. Shit! He had 
almost forgotten that someone was coming to the house. He wondered if 
he still had time to take another spanking and then to dress before 
whomever was coming, arrived. Shit! 

Taking a deep breath, Mulder left his corner and retrieved the paddle 
from where it had been left on the coffee table. He stood in the 
doorway of the kitchen watching as his Master put a pan of something 
into the oven. 

"Uh . . .sir?" 

"Yes, Fox?" Skinner turned to face his much-loved but totally 
exasperating slave boy. "Do you have something you want to ask me?" 

"Uh . . . yes, sir." Mulder dropped to his knees on the cool tile of 
the kitchen floor, knees widely spread, head down, he lifted the 
paddle up to his Master. "I'm, uh, ready for my paddling now, Master." 

"I'm not sure I understand, Fox. Why don't you tell me exactly what 
you need from me." 

Mulder took in a deep shaky breath. "I want . . .I mean I need for you 
to take me across you knees and spank my bare bottom with this paddle, 
sir." 

"Until . . .?" 

Mulder looked up at his Master through his dark lashes, unsure as to 
just what his Master expected him to say. "Uh, until . . . my butt is 
blistered?" 

"That's right, Fox. But I'm afraid you took a little too long to make 
your request. Our guest will be arriving soon, and I still need to 
shower and change. I'm afraid you're going to have an audience for 
your paddling now."

Skinner ignored his slave as the man's head snapped up and a panicked 
look came into his hazel eyes. "Just go back to your corner, Fox. I'm 
sure my associate will arrive promptly so you shouldn't have to wait 
too long for the rest of your punishment." 

"Please, sir." Mulder whispered, eyes already shining with tears. 

"This is all your own doing, Fox. And of course, since my friend will 
have already seen you in such a humiliating position, I see no reason 
why you should not remain naked for the rest of the evening. A little 
loss of dignity is oftentimes good for the soul, Fox." 

Mulder dropped his eyes back to the floor. He could think of no 
argument that would sway his Master from this disastrous course. He 
rose from his kneeling position and moved back to his corner, burying 
his face as deeply as possible between the clean, white walls. 

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours. He knew that in his current 
location, he would be the first thing the visitor saw as he was 
allowed to enter the house. A tall, naked man with his red, flaming 
face buried in a corner while his equally flaming backside was on full 
and humiliating display. Of course that embarrassment would be nothing 
compared to that which Mulder would feel as the man was allowed to 
witness him receiving a sound, bare-bottomed paddling before dinner 
was served. 

Mulder's heart stopped as the doorbell rang. 

Skinner walked into the room, checking one more time to make sure Fox 
was properly presented. That boy was so damned beautiful it was almost 
a sin. Skinner was very proud of his slave, loved showing him off like 
this. And it was especially gratifying when the slave was so reluctant 
about it. Skinner hated those slaves who so blatantly enjoyed any 
public pain or humiliation heaped upon them. That took all the fun out 
of it. Give him a shy, blushing boy any day. Especially this blushing 
boy. His boy. 

Marcus Perry took two steps into the house and stopped dead in his 
tracks. Only sheer luck kept him from dropping the expensive bottle of 
wine he had brought to his host. Skinner wasn't especially surprised 
at Marcus's reaction to Mulder's unfortunate predicament. He had a 
suspicion that the man was fascinated with Fox. A sure sign of 
excellent taste as far as Walter Skinner was concerned. 

Skinner grabbed the bottle of wine before it could drop from his 
guest's numb fingers. "Right on time. I do hope you don't mind that I 
have a little unfinished business with my slave before we can get 
started. He seems to have forgotten most of his basic training while 
he was in Texas." 

"I wouldn't be surprised." Marcus whispered, his throat too dry to 
deliver much more than a strained croak. 

Skinner set the wine to chill as Marcus allowed his shaky legs to give 
way and deposit him in a comfortable armchair, making sure he still 
had a clear view of the beautiful man trying to bury his face even 
further into the corner. 

Skinner seated himself on the couch. "As you can see, Fox has already 
been punished for his part in giving his abductors an easy opportunity 
to kidnap him. Now, " he smiled as Mulder groaned from his corner as 
attention was called to him. Silly boy. Did he really think their 
visitor didn't already have his eyes glued to him. "Now he's going to 
get a good spanking for disrespect to his Master. Fox, come over here 
and place yourself across my knees for a proper paddling." 

Mulder gasped as he turned to see Marcus Perry's intense gaze on him. 
He wasn't sure what had happened between himself and this very 
attractive Texan, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He had a 
feeling that if his hazy recollections were correct, his Master would 
not be pleased that he had allowed himself to be drugged and very 
thoroughly and enjoyably bedded. 

"Hurry up, Fox." Skinner scolded. "We need to get on with this so Mr. 
Perry and I can conduct some business before dinner." 

Mulder closed his eyes as he crossed the room and practically threw 
himself across his Master's knees. He just wanted to get this over 
with. Maybe then his Master would take pity on him and allow him to 
keep his nose buried in his corner for the rest of the evening. He 
knew that wish was highly unlikely. It was more probable that he would 
be forced to knell beside his Master's chair and be humiliatingly fed 
like the compliant, little lap-dog he had become. He pushed that 
thought aside. It wasn't fair. Skinner was not trying to break him as 
many another Master would have most certainly have tried to do. But 
shit, this was all so embarrassing when someone else watched him being 
put through his paces and firmly into his place. 

Skinner watched as Marcus sat mesmerized at the scene that was playing 
out in front of him. Yep, Marcus had it bad for Skinner's naughty 
little slave boy. 

The Master rubbed the paddle in slow circles over Mulder's upturned 
bottom. It was still red and heavily welted. It wouldn't take much of 
the paddle to have his brat right where he wanted him. Sobbing, 
kicking and promising anything for his Master's leniency and 
forgiveness. 

Skinner raised the paddle above his shoulder, feeling Fox's body tense 
across his knees. He glanced up at a gasp from Marcus, the man's eyes 
were filled with unmistakable compassion and fear for the intended 
recipient of this punishment. 

Skinner caught his guest's eyes, the AD's own eyes full of deep 
understanding for the concerned man. "You needn't worry about Fox, 
Marcus. He's a brat, but a much-loved brat. My little slave will be 
brought to frantic tears and urgent assurances of repentance by this 
paddling but he won't be unduly harmed.." 

So saying, Skinner turned his attention back to the already sore 
bottom waiting patiently for its further reckoning. 

Without undue hesitation, the paddle slammed down on its target with a 
crack as loud as a gunshot, causing the unfortunate slave to cry out 
in pain and shock. 

"New paddle, Fox. What do you think?" 

"It...stings!" 

"Good. Money well spent then." And the Master proceeded to pepper the 
exposed butt spread out in front of him with sharp, cracking blows 
that soon had his slave howling. And as he had predicted earlier, 
Skinner was soon the proud owner of a very miserable and totally 
repentant slave boy. 

Marcus watched, halfway between arousal and pity, as Mulder pounded 
his fists on the floor, frantically kicked his long legs, and begged 
his Master to believe that he would never, *ever* do anything like 
that again. That his Master could throw that paddle away when he 
finished with it because Mulder would never give him a reason to use 
it again. That he would be the best, most submissive, most 
well-behaved slave in the world from this day forward. 

Even Marcus had to silently laugh at the wild claims that fell from 
the lips of the beautiful but desperate man who lay wildly squirming 
across Skinner's large, muscular thighs. 

When Skinner finally lay the paddle aside, Marcus was sure he had 
never seen a redder bottom than the one that was now presented up to 
Mulder's Master for his final approval. Not an inch of bottom or upper 
thigh had been spared and the effect looked both excruciatingly 
painful and at the same time, highly erotic. Marcus found himself 
panting almost as hard as the well-punished man still wiggling over 
his Master's knees. 

Skinner reached into a drawer on a nearby table and removed a tube of 
lube and a large butt plug. Mulder looked over his shoulder, groaning 
at what his Master planned to do to him. 

"Please Master. I promise, I won't forget that I'm your slave again." 

"You didn't forget, Fox. You out and out tested me. Now hold still." 
Skinner carefully applied the slick lube to the plug and to its 
intended destination. Marcus again sat stunned as the plug slowly but 
surely disappeared between the slave's beautiful scarlet buttocks. 

Skinner looked up at his aroused guest. "Would you like a closer look, 
Marcus. This really is a beautiful site." 

As the man came closer, Skinner used both hands to pull Mulder's 
cheeks apart so that Marcus could see how stretched he was around the 
unwelcome intruder now snugly secured within his body. Skinner twisted 
the end of the plug and pulled it out an inch or two, "Would you like 
to touch him?." 

Marcus didn't have to be invited twice. He ran a finger around the 
ring of tightly stretched muscle causing Mulder to moan loudly. 

Marcus couldn't resist another quick feel around the delicate little 
ring of Mulder's exposed opening. This time Mulder bucked hard against 
Skinner's thighs earning himself a sharp slap to his hot, aching 
bottom. "None of that, Fox. You may get to come later, but I assure 
you it won't be anytime soon." 

"I'm sorry," Marcus quickly pulled his hand away from Mulder's 
shuddering body. 

"No, it's all right." Skinner smiled up at him. "He's just a little 
sensitive there while he's wearing his plug. You aren't hurting him by 
any means." 

Skinner released his hold, allowing Mulder's buttocks to hug the end 
of the plug once more. He patted Mulder's blazing bottom 
affectionately, "All right Fox, you can get up now." 

The slave scrambled to his feet, both hands going immediately to try 
to rub some of the sting out of his sorely blistered bottom. He hopped 
from foot to foot doing a little revolving dance of pain, tears still 
streaming down his deceptively young face, completely unconscious of 
the erotic picture he presented to the two men who sat watching him 
turn first his back and then his front to their eager eyes. 

His Master allowed him to continue his impromptu little performance 
for a few moments before telling him to take his hands off his bottom 
and go get back in his corner. "Legs wide, your nose against the wall. 
Your bottom is very beautiful in this condition, and Marcus and I want 
to enjoy it while we talk." 

Mulder's face blazed as he took the required position, feeling his 
red, burning bottom push up and out into the room as his nose found 
the cool surface of the wall. The end of the butt plug was clearly 
visible between the conflagration that had once been his smooth, white 
butt cheeks. He felt totally exposed and vulnerable. No doubt, exactly 
what his Master had in mind. 

He flinched as he felt his Master beside him. "It's all right, Fox. 
Marcus and I have something private to discuss so I'm going to put 
these earphones on you." 

Mulder looked up at his Master suspiciously. 

"You don't need to go all paranoid on me, Fox. Do you trust me?" 

Mulder looked at him for a moment longer then sighed dramatically. 
"Yes." 

"Good." Skinner tousled his hair, leaning down to whisper in his ear. 
"You look very sexy like this." He then pushed play on the tape player 
and walked back to join his guest. 

Mulder almost choked as he realized he was listening to a recording of 
the spanking he had received just a few minutes earlier. He cringed, 
and his bottom seemed to burn hotter, as he heard the relentless smack 
of the paddle on his flesh and he own pitiful cries of distress He was 
totally humiliated as he listened to himself make wild, desperate 
promises that even a holy saint would be hard pressed to live up to. 
His heart sank as he heard himself ordered to his corner, a slight 
click, and the tape started over from the first resounding smack of 
hard wood on bare bottom. 

Skinner chuckled as he watched Mulder's body stiffen as he realized 
just what he was being forced to listen to. He looked over to see 
Marcus looking at Mulder with longing in his sad eyes. He knew that 
look. Hell, he'd worn that look at one time. Mulder was an addiction 
that wasn't easily kicked. 

"If I could clone him, I think I might give you one." Skinner said 
softly, bringing the man's attention back to him. 

Marcus looked down sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I've just never met anyone 
like Fox before." 

Skinner chuckled, "I'd say that was a fair bet. There aren't too many 
out there like Mulder. You know I can't share him. Fox wouldn't 
understand, and I could never live with it myself. He's mine and there 
aren't any other options available." 

Marcus looked up. "I do understand that, Walter. I promise you, if 
nothing else, I'm an honorable man. I would never do anything like my 
brother did. And I know that even if I did manage to get my hands on 
Fox, he would always belong to you. A man without his heart isn't a 
man worth having, now is he? If I ever have someone like Fox, I want 
all of him." 

"I hope you find that man, Marcus." 

"So do I, Walter." His eyes found Mulder where he stood trembling 
miserably in his corner. "So do I." 

Skinner followed Marcus' concerned gaze. "Oops! Looks like we have a 
little emotional overload going on over there. What do you say we talk 
about bringing down the Consortium over dinner? Mulder needs to be 
involved in that conversation anyway." 

"You are going to let him dress I hope. I don't think I can carry on 
any kind of rational conversation when he looks like that." 

"You really want me to spoil such a beautiful view? You should be 
flattered, I wouldn't let too many people see him like this. And 
besides, he's very entertaining. He has absolutely no clue that he's 
beautiful. Thinks I keep him naked to punish him or something. Once 
you get him talking about the Consortium all you have to do is sit 
back and enjoy the show. He won't even remember he isn't wearing 
clothing. And, trust me, a relaxed, animated, and completely naked 
Mulder is a beautiful sight to behold." 

Skinner went over to retrieve his slave for dinner, his heart 
constricting as he saw the fat tears sliding down Mulder's smooth 
cheeks. The agent looked up in surprise as a big hand gently wiped the 
moisture away. 

"What's all this for?" Skinner held up his tear-soaked fingers. 

"I sound like a big baby getting his bottom spanked. How can you still 
have any respect for me at all?" 

"Well," Skinner kissed the tip of his nose and then each eyelid. "For 
one thing you are a baby. My baby. And you *were* getting your bottom 
spanked. Quite harshly, and for the second time today. Your reaction 
was completely natural and appropriate to the situation. If you hadn't 
been crying like that, I would have just kept spanking you until you 
did." 

"Mr. Perry must be disgusted with me." 

"Hardly, but does it matter?" 

Mulder looked into his Master's eyes. "I suppose not. I would have 
liked to have earned his friendship though. He helped me a lot when I 
was in Texas. I'm not sure I would have made it without him. He kept 
me from getting too reckless. I felt like there was some hope because 
he was there, so I bided my time." Mulder sighed again. "I just wish 
he hadn't seen me, red bottom up, crying like a five-year-old over 
Daddy's knee." 

Skinner kissed his slave's cheek. "I wouldn't worry about it. I think 
Marcus Perry would like you no matter what happened. And quite 
frankly, I think he quite enjoyed watching me give you a well-deserved 
bottom warming." Skinner reached back and deftly pulled the plug from 
Mulder's butt, smiling as his slave sighed in relief. "Now come on, 
lets go have a nice dinner and talk about bringing down the 
Consortium. Marcus has agreed to help us." 

"Really?" Mulder's eyes light up like Christmas morning. 

Mulder smiled as he was escorted into the dining room. The first thing 
he noticed was that there were three place settings on the table, so 
he would not be forced to knell at his Master's feet. The second thing 
was the three bottles of chilled wine gleaming in the candlelight, and 
the third thing was . . . oh please, dear God, no. 

"What is that thing doing here?" Mulder pointed to the wrought iron 
slave chair that sat in front of one of the china place settings. It's 
insidious rose and thorn patter just waiting for his bare, 
well-spanked bottom to be placed upon it's cruel seat. 

"It was a gift." Skinner said offhandedly as he opened a bottle of 
wine and poured a small amount for Marcus' approval. "Fox, would you 
serve please?" 

Mulder sullenly spooned out two portions of the delicious smelling 
chicken dish and slammed them down before each man. 

Skinner glared at his slave. "Am I to assume that this attitude is to 
allow Marcus another opportunity to watch a fully-grown FBI Agent kick 
and cry while his bottom reaches ever increasing degrees of heat?" 

Mulder ignored the warning in his Master's voice. "Why did you buy 
that chair? You asked me and I told you I didn't want one." 

Marcus was looking from one man to the other in total confusion. He 
rose from his chair, his curiosity too much for him, to look at the 
chair that had caused yet another confrontation between slave and 
Master. Although he had to admit, Fox didn't exactly match his idea of 
a slave by any stretch of the imagination. 

He thought the chair was kind of feminine looking. More like a large 
caf‚ chair. The pattern one of roses, stems and . . . oh, thorns. He 
ran a hand over the seat of the chair. Lots of thorns. No wonder 
Mulder wasn't anxious to place his sore bottom there. Marcus went back 
around to his own comfortable chair, taking a good healthy sip of his 
wine. Having a slave just might be too much work for him. 

"I'm giving you one more chance brat, get yourself some food and sit 
your bottom down on that chair. I want you to remember your lesson for 
as long as possible tonight." 

"I asked you why you bought that damned chair?" Mulder hissed, too 
angry to be cautious. 

Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose before rising from his own 
chair. He walked over to his now wisely cringing slave and manhandled 
him down onto the sharp points of the slave chair. He didn't even feel 
remorse when Mulder hissed with pain. Walter then walked over to the 
casserole, heaped Mulder's plate and placed it unceremoniously in 
front of him. 

"Every bite, Fox, or it's another dose of the switch for you. And for 
your information, I didn't buy the damned chair. I bought the damned 
island. Or rather," he smiled evilly at his stunned agent, "you did. 
Now eat." 

Skinner watched in satisfaction as he shell-shocked slave began to 
eat. He really doubted the brat was tasting anything but what 
difference did that make, at least he was eating. And he was 
mercifully quiet. 

Mulder squirmed on his personal hell-of-a-chair, gasping as the 
life-like little thorns dug into this sore bottom. He tried to sit 
really still but one of the miniature daggers would just become too 
much for him to bear and he would wiggle, thus setting off a whole 
array of tiny hurts on his abused and throbbing bottom. He couldn't 
concentrate on what Marcus and Walter were talking about. He supposed 
his Master would fill him in later on their plans. He wondered if his 
Master was going to spank him again. He wondered if Marcus would 
watch. He wondered if the ground could just open up and swallow him. 
He owned that damned island! Shit! Shit! Shit! 

"Fox . . .Fox . . .FOX!" 

Mulder looked up at his Master's exclamation. "Sorry, sir. I wasn't 
listening. What did you say?" 

"I said, don't bother clearing the table right now. I want you to join 
us for coffee and desert in the family room." 

"Desert, sir?" 

"Don't worry, Fox. I took care of it myself. You just bring the 
coffee." 

"Yes, sir." 

Mulder gathered a fresh pot of coffee and three cups, leaving his 
Master still digging in the refrigerator. He went out to join Marcus, 
feeling more naked than ever. He blushed as he poured the man a cup of 
coffee, aware that Marcus' eyes were focused on his cock. Marcus 
noticed his blush and smiled at him. 

"You needn't be embarrassed, Fox. You're one of the most beautiful men 
I've ever seen." 

"If that's the case, you really need to get out more, sir." 

Marcus gave him a delighted smile. Then felt his breath catch as he 
received a heart-stopping grin in return. He had always had a weak 
spot for pretty, intelligent, smart-mouthed little subs. This one was 
all three, and then some. He would never be able to thank Carl enough 
for the one night he had been allowed with this remarkable young man. 

Mulder looked up as his Master came into the room, his heart sinking 
as he saw his Master was carrying Scully's devious little punishment 
stool. Its bristle brush doormat covering in plain view. So his bottom 
was not going to see any relief for a while longer it would seem. 

He tried to capture his Master's eyes, begging him to wait until 
Marcus left before placing him on the uncomfortable stool. He wasn't 
sure which was a worse seat, the slave chair or the punishment stool. 
It wasn't even a question he really wanted to ponder. 

He expected his Master to set the stool in his corner and was taken 
completely off guard when instead, the stool was placed about one foot 
in front of where Marcus was sitting. He looked at his Master in 
confusion and noticed that Skinner was getting the same exact look 
from their guest. 

Skinner turned to his slave, patting the rough, sharp points of the 
bristle brush covered seat of the stool. "Come on, climb up here, Fox. 
You know what to do." 

Mulder didn't dare look at Marcus as he carefully seated himself on 
the terrible punishment stool. He hissed as the sharp bristles sought 
out every tender crevice and spanked sore spot on his bottom. Once 
again, he tried to sit absolutely still attempting to keep the sly 
little bristles from working their way ever deeper into his overly 
sensitive butt. 

Mulder opened his eyes to find that his position on the stool meant 
that his knees were now positioned on either side of the seated man in 
front of him. He felt his cock jump at the implications. 

Skinner came bustling back into the room carrying a tray full of 
assorted foods. "Ready for some desert, Marcus?" 

Marcus eyed the semi-erect cock bobbing in front of him. "I have to 
admit I'm getting hungrier by the minute." 

"Good. Why don't you give Fox a little hand there? I need him to be 
nice and hard." 

Skinner chuckled as Mulder sucked in a shocked breath, eyeing him with 
even more confusion. Then the slave gasped again as a warm, 
experienced hand began to skillfully stroke his cock. He was painfully 
hard in moments. 

Walter set the tray down on the table beside the couch, picking up a 
brown squeeze bottle. 

"I know that seat isn't very comfortable for you Fox, but the height 
is just perfect. He opened the bottle of Magic Shell Topping and began 
to pour it over Mulder's erect cock. Mulder looked down, eyes wide as 
his cock was immediately incased in a coating of thick, solid 
chocolate. He then watched his Master squirt on a dab of whipped cream 
and add a bright red cherry to the very end of on his now camouflaged 
cock head. 

"There you go, Marcus, eat up. That is, if you're interested." 

Marcus looked up at a smiling Skinner and then over to a wide-eyed, 
slack jawed Mulder. God, that boy was pretty. If he was interested? 
Shit! He immediately lowered his head and began to enjoy his treat. 

"Master!" Mulder gasped as he threw back his head, the expert lips on 
his cock turning his bones to jelly in a matter of seconds. 

"What is it, brat?" Skinner wound his hand in Mulder thick hair and 
pulled his head back, feeding on his lips. 

"You," Mulder tried to talk around the mouth that seemed determined to 
devour him. "You . . .said you would never make me service another 
Top." 

"That's right." Skinner continued to kiss his beautiful slave into 
mindlessness. His mouth moving slowly down to take a pert nipple into 
his mouth, sucking hard. 

"But . . . But . . . But . . ." 

"I'm not making you service Marcus, Fox. I'm merely allowing him to 
suck your beautiful cock. Don't you like it? Doesn't it feel good? I 
know it does, I can feel you trembling under my hands. Remember you 
aren't allowed to come until I give you permission, slave boy. Just 
because it isn't my mouth on your pretty cock, doesn't mean the rules 
have changed. Now I want you to be quiet and let me kiss you." 

Marcus placed his hands on the inside of Fox's thighs, spread his legs 
and applied himself to the task of removing every trace of chocolate 
and whipped cream at his disposal. He noticed the slave brand on 
Mulder's leg. He assumed it was an 'S' for Skinner, and felt another 
wave of envy wash over him. What a damned lucky bastard. Marcus 
breathed in deeply. Even the smell of this man was intoxicating. He 
applied two hot licks to the brand, and then redoubled his efforts to 
suck away the chocolate shell so he could taste the man underneath. 

Mulder was vaguely aware of Marcus licking his brand and then gasped 
as the man began to suck at the thick chocolate with renewed 
enthusiasm. His Master on the other hand had decided that he could 
lick Mulder's brain if only he could get his tongue far enough into 
the agent's ear. Mulder couldn't remember the last time he had been 
this turned on. And he couldn't come. Had to wait for permission. He 
felt a small crack form in his chocolate coating, and moaned in 
pleasured agony. 

His bottom hurt as it wiggled on the bristle brush doormat, Skinner's 
tongue was wet and hot and totally intoxicating as it repeatedly found 
his neck, his ear, his eyelids, his jawline and the back of his 
throat. He wondered if he blacked out, if Skinner would punish him for 
coming while unconscious. 

Mulder moaned loudly and bucked on his painful stool as he felt his 
Magic Shell give way under the unrelenting efforts of Marcus Perry's 
talented mouth. He decided that if the man ever wanted a break from 
the world of big business, he had a great future as a street hustler. 
That mouth would make him a fortune. 

Then - Marcus swallowed his cock. He could feel his very soul being 
sucked out as his cock lay in the narrow, constricting confines of the 
man's hot, pulsating throat. And Skinner was on his mouth again, 
consuming all that he was or ever would be. He couldn't breath. But he 
didn't much care. He could do nothing but hang bonelessly in his 
Master's arms, shivering and moaning pitifully, torn between the 
exquisite pain in his bottom and the intense pleasure in the rest of 
his body. The thrill was overwhelming. He shuddered, feeling his world 
begin to fade as he tried to hang on to his sanity. 

Skinner caught Marcus' eye. The man nodded slightly. Skinner pulled 
his mouth away from the gasping agent's lips, moving to whisper in his 
ear. "Come for me, pretty baby." 

Marcus didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful than 
Mulder's face when he came. Skinner had made sure he was holding his 
slave at an angle so Marcus could watch his enraptured face as he was 
brought to orgasm. It was a magnificent sight. As Mulder's hot, ripe 
come shot down his throat, Marcus felt himself come as well. He almost 
giggled. He hadn't come in his pants since he was a teenager. Maybe he 
should reconsider his desire to find himself a Fox. It could be 
dangerous to his health and his dignity. 

Marcus reluctantly pulled away, placing one final kiss on the tip of 
the now flaccid cock. He watched as Skinner picked his unresponsive 
slave up into his arms, placing one more loving kiss on the young 
man's lush lips. 

Marcus excused himself, hurrying to the bathroom to pull himself 
together. When he came out, he found Skinner waiting for him with Fox 
no where in sight. 

"I don't know how to thank you." Marcus looked away from the other 
man's intense, brown eyes. "That was . . ." 

"Yes, it was." Skinner smiled at him. "And it's I who should thank 
you. I'm not sure I would have gotten Fox back without your help." 

"Will Fox be all right with this?" 

Skinner couldn't help the chuckled that escaped his lips. "Fox is the 
perpetual virgin bride. Everything embarrasses him and arouses him at 
the same time. Trust me, he might not admit it, but he'll remember 
this experience fondly for the rest of his life. I don't think I've 
seen him come that hard in months." 

Marcus stuck out his right hand and immediately had it clasped in a 
warm grasp. "That has to be the best 'thank you' I ever got, Walter. I 
think we can look forward to a long and profitable alliance. Those old 
bastards won't stand a chance against us." 

"I hope you're right, Marcus. I hope you're right." 

The End
Continued in Chapter 12