Fresh Start Series
by DiAnn


Fresh Start - Part 12


Rating: NC17 - SLASH/ language/ BDSM 

Category: Pure Trash / Discipline / m/m Slash 

Warning: Scully / Mulder / Skinner Slash
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. 

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 12
By: DiAnn 

"Wake up, Fox." 

Mulder groaned as his Master persisted in shaking his shoulder. 

"Go 'way." 

"I know you had a rough night, Fox. By the way, Marcus called
me this morning to thank me again." 

"Humph!" 

"Come on get up, something has come up and we have a plane to
catch." 

"Where're we going?" Two sleepy hazel eyes gazed at him from
under the blankets. 

"White Sands. All of the trainers are threatening to quit. We have
to get down to the island right away or it'll cost us a fortune." 

"Good, let 'em quit. Bunch of sadists anyway. Besides I have to
go to work tomorrow. I have a job you know." 

"I'm well aware of that, Fox, and you should remember that not
only am I your direct supervisor, I'm also your Master. Between
the two I completely control your life. In fact, I don't think anyone
else is even watching you all that closely right now. 

After the Blevins fiasco, the Director is very discretely on our side,
Fox. Officially, I requested a special assignment this morning that
he okayed over the phone. He also sanctioned my request to
assign you to assist me. This assignment is expected to last for
several months so it will be accepted that the two of us will be out
of the office quite frequently during that time. It's a perfect cover-
up for our real work, kid, and will also give us an opportunity to
straighten out any problems that may arise at the Club due to the
change of ownership." 

"Oh goody!" Mulder sneered and then shivered as the covers were
whisked off his naked body. 

"Do you really want to take another plane ride with a sore bottom?
Trust me, it will be much worse this time." 

"Worse than having my backside blistered twice in two hours,
once in a public restroom, and then sitting on scratchy wool all the
way to New York? I don't see how anything could be worse than
that." 

"You haven't tried this." 

Mulder carefully opened one eye to see his Master holding a small
plastic bag that contained some kind of stems and leaves. 

"Stinging Nettle, Fox. Ever heard of it?" 

"I . . .I think I read something about it once." 

"Let me refresh your memory. A common garden plant with a
covering of fine hairs-like bristles. Tiny fibers that sting horribly
when they come in contact with bare, unprotected skin. It's a
practice among some of my more sadistic fellow Masters to
thoroughly spank a slave's butt, then these plants are placed on the
tenderized area, underwear pulled up to hold them in place and a
naughty slave's bottom burns like hell for the rest of the day." 

He shook the bag before his slave's wide, frightened eyes. "Of
course, I was cautioned that the Master has to wear heavy gloves to
even handle these plants. They're really quite lethal, even the
slightest exposure leaves a stinging rash that lasts for hours." 

"Shit! Where did you get that stuff?" 

"From Ed down at the S&M shop. He gave me this free sample to
try on you. He's really quite taken with you, Fox." 

"He has an interesting way of showing it." Mulder glanced
nervously at the bag. "You wouldn't really do that to me would
you?" 

"Maybe. Depends on how quick you get your butt in that shower
so we can be on our . . ." He stopped in mid-sentence. Mulder
was already gone. 

Skinner chuckled to himself as he pitched the bag over his
shoulder and into the trash. He hesitated as he started to walk
away, turned and retrieved it. He would of course never use it on
Mulder but it had been a free sample, and it was really rude to just
throw a way a gift now wasn't it? Besides it has great
motivational properties. 

* * *

White Sands Beach Club
Owner's Suite 

It was large. It was luxurious. Scully would love it every bit as
much as Mulder hated it. He glared as no less than four scantily
clad slaves hovered around his Master, pleading to serve him in
any way he might deem necessary. 

Mulder finally had enough of it. He grabbed one particularly
handsome and overly-enthusiastic blond man by the elbow and
forcefully evicted him from the room. The other three watched in
wide-eyed disbelief as the uppity slave turned to them with a
determined look. 

"Beat it! If <he> needs you, <I'll> let you know." 

The three disappointed men looked to the big Master for
assistance. When they saw him merely smiling at his slave with
amused affection, they heaved a sigh and left the room, Mulder
forcefully slamming the door behind them. 

"Jealous, brat?" 

"No, of course not. Just tired of their groveling, that's all." 

"Better get used to it. As owner of the Club, you and your Master
will be the recipient of quite a bit of unsolicited attention." 

"Why do I think any attention I might receive won't be nearly as
pleasant as what is bestowed on you?" 

"Just put that lip back in, we don't have time to discuss this right
now. We have a meeting in fifteen minutes with the trainers to
hear their grievances." 

Mulder plopped down on the couch. "You can go without me. I
could care less about their grievances. As far as I'm concerned the
whole bunch of them can just pack up and leave. Find some other
poor slaves to torment." 

"And the island?" 

"Closed! Out of business." Mulder snapped his fingers. "Make it
into a penal colony. Everything that would be needed to make
hardened criminals pay for their crimes against society is already
in place here." 

"So you don't care about your employees or your investors?" 

"In a word, <No>. I didn't buy this island. I don't want this
island. In fact, I'm giving it to you, lock, stock and cock rings.
Now it's your problem. I'm going to take a nap, wake me when
you get back." 

Mulder rose from the couch, took two steps toward the bedroom
before being stopped when a big familiar paw landed on his
shoulder. He sighed and turned around to meet the gaze of his
unyielding Master. 

"What?" 

"Forgetting something, aren't you?" Skinner growled in his best
Dom voice. He was gratified to see Mulder swallow hard. 

"Wh . . .what would that be?" 

"You belong to me. You're <my> slave. You <will> attend this
meeting and you <will> lend that incredible mind of yours to the
solution of any and all problems these people might have." He
gave his slave a hard shake. "Any further questions, brat?" 

"No, sir." 

* * *

Management Offices
Conference Room 

All eyes in the room tuned as the handsome and distinguished-
looking new owner of the Club walked into the room, followed by
his gorgeous slave. The trainers seated around the large table, five
men and two women, eyed the slave with appreciation as they
looked forward to the opportunity to impress their new employer
with their ability to train his beautiful, but sullen slave. 

"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for meeting with us on such
short notice." Skinner took a seat at the head of the table, Mulder
slumping down into the seat to his right, looking for all the world
like a spoiled, disagreeable teenager. Skinner looked around the
room as the seven drill instructors looked back at him curiously.
He reached into his briefcase, pulling out a notepad and a pen. He
placed those in front of Mulder. The young man didn't seem to
notice. 

"All right. Let's get started. It's my understanding that you have
some difficulties that you wish to discuss with the new owner." 

There was a general shifting in the chairs as the trainers looked to
each other to begin. Finally, an impressively built blond man
sitting toward the end of the table cleared his throat. 

"As you can see, sir, there are only seven of us here today. This
club needs a minimum of twelve trainers, and even more during
the busy season. During the recent shake-up at the club, everyone
else has left, a couple without even giving notice. The newly
completed Devil Island Club is recruiting all of us pretty heavily,
but we wanted to give you an opportunity before we took new
positions at another club." 

"I appreciate that, Mr.. . " 

"Greg Marshall, sir. The other trainers and the slaves call me
Cobra." 

"Thank you, Cobra. That is most appreciated. So the Club is short
of personnel at the moment. I think that can be easily solved.
Write that down, Fox." Skinner tapped impatiently on the pad that
the young slave had yet to touch. Mulder sighed heavily, rolled his
eyes and scribbled something on the paper before leaning back to
insolently glare once more at the assembled group. 

Skinner narrowed his eyes at his irritating slave before returning
his attention to the trainers. "All right, what else?" 

A pretty red-haired woman raised her hand. "I'm Flame, sir. I've
been with the club for four years and I haven't had a vacation in
the last two. I know that relates back to the personnel problem but
it's still a problem." 

"Yes," another woman spoke up. She too was gorgeous with a
long, dark pony-tail reaching almost to her waist. "We also
haven't had a raise in almost that long. We have to assume it was
bad management on the part of the previous owners. We know
this club makes money. At least it should. It's always packed." 

'Okay, Fox, items two and three. Vacation policy and salary
review." He watched as his slave drew an alien head on the paper.
Oka-a-a-y. "What other concerns do you have?" 

"Marketing of the club, sir." Another man spoke up. "With
Devils Island open, we think it's important to promote this club.
That isn't being done." 

"All right. Item four, Fox, marketing strategy." He watched as
Mulder put the finishing touches on a his doodle of a hover-craft. 

Skinner gritted his teeth. "Anything else?" 

"One final thing, sir." A big, dark-haired young man looked at
him seriously. "We've had too much absentee management. We
really feel that his club warrants an on-sight manager at all times." 

"I agree." Skinner looked over to his slave, hoping against hope
that the young man had made a list of these problems. Instead he
found his slave just completing an ornate border of 'X's" all
around the page. 

"Fox." No answer. 

"FOX!" 

"What? You don't have to yell, you know. I'm sitting right beside
you." 

"You know, sir." Cobra offered. "Now that you own the club, we
could find you a very attractive slave that would actually listen to
what you said. We could take that one and give him a little extra
training. Return him to you once he's ready." Skinner could see
from the skeptical look in the trainer's eyes that he didn't really
believe Mulder would ever be <ready>. 

"Actually, as hard as it may be for all of you to believe, I'm really
quite fond of this slave." He ignored the raised eyebrows he got
for that remark and returned his attention to his troublesome
charge. "Fox, what are the list of grievances?" 

Mulder didn't even bother to look up from his doodling. "They're
understaffed, overworked, underpaid, want to lure other poor,
unsuspecting smucks to this island to torture and want someone to
hold their hands and pat their backs while they do it." 

"Really, sir, we have many slaves who would be more than happy
to take notes at your meetings and . . ." 

Skinner held up a placating hand. "There seems to be a little
misunderstanding here." He pointed to Mulder who had once
again slumped back in his chair, eyeing the trainers with disdain.
"I would like you to meet Fox Mulder, the new owner of White
Sands Beach Club." 

"A slave!" 

"No way!" 

"We will <not> work for a slave!" 

Skinner held up a hand to silence their protests. 

"Oh, but there are so many advantages." Skinner purred as he
picked up a phone from a nearby table and set it in front of
Mulder. 

"Fox, call staff assistance and have them bring a whipping horse in
here immediately." 

Mulder didn't move a muscle, just set staring at his Master with
wide eyes and open mouth. It didn't take an Oxford educated
genius to figure out who the horse was for. 

Skinner produced his best 'Dom look', loving the way it made his
pretty, usually fearless slave flinch. "Problem, brat?" 

Mulder swallowed hard, glancing at the trainers who were staring
at he and his Master with intrigued looks for their faces. 

"No . . .no, sir." Mulder picked up the phone, starting to dial with
a shaking hand. 

"Fox," Mulder looked up to see if his Master had come to his
senses and this was all just a terrible joke. "Make sure the horse
has a shield and order some refreshments while you're at it. We
could be here a while and I'm sure you want your employees to be
comfortable." 

Mulder nodded numbly as he followed his Master's orders, making
the call in a strained, quivering voice. When he had completed his
task, his Master snapped his fingers ordering Mulder into Position
1 on the floor beside him. 

While they waited for the new addition to the room decor, Skinner
and the trainers made small talk about the needs of the Club.
Mulder didn't hear a word of it, his mind buzzing with fear and
apprehension. He could feel the trainers' eyes on him so he kept
his head bowed, eyes on his own spread knees. He was so thankful
that his Master had allowed him to remain fully clothed. 

The conversation halted at a knock on the door. "Get that, Fox."
Mulder stumbled to his feet, his knees weak with dread. 

The tray of drinks arrived first and Mulder was forced to make
sure his Master and each of the trainers were served before
resuming his humiliating position on the floor. His heart thudded
in his chest as another knock sounded at the door. 

"Good, Fox, the horse is finally here. Please make sure it's
situated so everyone has a good, clear view." 

All the slave could do was nod, his mouth too dry to speak, his
face already wet with a fine sheen of fear-sweat. 

The horse was a big one covered in a thick, red leather. The shield
hanging from two of its four snaps. Mulder didn't think he had
ever seen anything so scary looking in his life. 

It took a good bit of pushing and shoving by the custodial crew and
Mulder himself before Skinner was one hundred percent satisfied
that the horse was in just the right location to assure that each of
the trainers could adequately witness the action that would soon
take place on its leather-covered back. 

Ed Norris stood watching as the big man in glasses directed the
placing of the whipping horse. He could tell by the look on the
face of the pretty boy who was helping them that it was his naked
backside that would soon be on display over the horse. 

It made Ed's blood boil. That was why he had come to this God- 
forsaken island in the first place, to stop this evil - this sin. He 
had already saved two of the trainers from hell. He doubted their 
bodies would ever be found. Too many ways to dispose of an unwanted 
corpse on a tropical island. 

He eyed the big, bald man again. He was probably the new owner
of the island. It would be a good blow to show this man the error
of his ways. To save his immortal soul, perhaps then the other
would fall in line without further divine messages. 

"That looks about right," Skinner finally said, thanking the two
maintenance men for their assistance and dismissing them to
return to their work. Ed and his associate moved toward the door. 

Skinner turned his Dom eye on his trembling slave once more.
"You know the drill, Fox, get the clothes off and arrange yourself
over the horse. I'm sure these people have other things to do this
afternoon and as the new owner you should be concerned with
productivity." 

Ed froze on his way out the door. The pretty slave boy was the
new owner? Now that was an interesting turn of events. It would
be much easier to save the soul of the slave than it would have
been to kill his much larger Master. Ed walked out the door, a
plan already forming in his mind. 

"Sir," Mulder was panting hard making talk almost impossible.
"Couldn't we . . .uh, talk about this in private. I'm really sorry
about my attitude and I'll . . ." 

"It's too late, baby," Skinner almost sounded sad. Almost. "Now
do what I say before you make this even worse for yourself, you're
in pretty deep right now." 

Mulder flushed bright red as he took off his clothing, feeling every
eye on his naked body as he turned and bent over the horrid horse.
It was a tall piece of equipment and the slave's toes barely touched
the floor. 

"Wait, slave boy. You need to get up and move that horse about
an inch to the right." 

"Wh . . .what?" 

"You heard me. I want these nice people to be able to see what's
happening to your bare backside. Get up and push the horse a
little to the right." 

Mulder righted himself, blushing even more furiously. He moved
to the end of the heavy piece of equipment and pushed with all his
strength, finally moving it the demanded one inch. He looked over
at his Master. 

Skinner stood with his hand on his chin as he studied the new
location. "Yes, I think that should be just about right. Back over
you go Fox, and be quick about it." 

Skinner waited until Mulder was in position once more before he
moved to stand behind his trembling slave, pushing his legs apart
even further before taking the strip of leather attached to the horse
in his hand. He moved it up behind his slave's right thigh, brought
it over to cover both cock and balls then lifted Mulder's left thigh
so the leather could fit underneath and be snapped to the other
side. The shield served two purposes. It protected his genitalia
and made it impossible for the condemned slave to slide down the
side of the horse during punishment. The Master also knew that
the shield horrified Mulder on every level. It really brought his
predicament home when part of his body had to be protected while
so much other tender, vulnerable skin was left exposed and
completely susceptible to his Master's whipping hand. 

Mulder groaned as he placed his hands on the cross bar and held
on tightly. This was going to be bad. His Master wanted to prove
a point, both to Mulder and to the trainers. And the slave knew the
message was to be written quite clearly across his own bare bottom
for all to see and understand. 

"Fox, these people have good reason to expect more respect and
sense of responsibility from the owner of this club. I plan to see
they get it." The Master reached for his belt buckle, then looked
up stunned as a wide array of punishment implements hit the table
at the same time. One in front of each trainer. Mulder knew that
sound and groaned miserably. 

Skinner moved around the table slowly, making his choice. After
the third perusal, the Master carefully chose a short, whippy
leather switch from in front of the woman with the long, dark,
pony-tail. It was about two-foot long, made of some kind of
flexible center rod covered in black leather. 

"May I, Miss . . ." 

"My name is Stinger and I would be honored." 

Skinner picked up the switch, swishing it through the air several
times. It was a real beauty, designed to sting severely without in
any way damaging valuable skin. Skinner tested its weight and
balance a few more times before walking back around behind the
bare bottom presented up for his correction. He waited as the
trainers moved to get a better view of the action that was about to
take place. 

Mulder's face flamed as he felt all eyes on his exposed and soon to
be punished butt. He cringed as he heard his Master again take a
few practice swings with the switch. 

"Who is the owner of this club, Fox?" 

Mulder swallowed hard, all ideas of smart-assed remarks gone
from his head. "I am, Master." 

"So the responsibility ultimately lies with you?" 

"Ye . . .yes, sir." 

"Now we're going to show your employees just how grievances
are brought to the attention of a slave/Owner. Lift your butt a little
more, slave boy, I want a good, clean target. What was the first
item on our list, Fox?" 

"The club is short on staff at the moment, sir." The switch cut 
through the air with a loud whistle to land with a resounding smack on 
the upturned bottom over the horse. The slave let out a loud cry, 
shifting his weight from the toes of one foot to the toes of the 
other, trying desperately to diminish just a little of the terrible 
sting of the welt that now lay, red and raw, high on his backside, 
spanning both rounded cheeks. 

"Next, Fox." 

Mulder tightened his hold on the crossbar, his knuckles turning
white with his effort. 

"Oh-h-h-h! Employees need vacations! Ouch! Oh! Oh!" Now
two straight lines of torment lie across the dancing bottom. 

"Oh please, sir, please. That hurts so much." 

"Bottom up higher, Fox. Bring it right up, begging for the next
stroke. Now grievance number three." 

"Ne . . .need salary reviews. Ouch-h-h-h-h! Oh!" 

This stoke was in the exact center of the bare and unprotected
buttocks. Skinner waited until the dancing feet and wiggling
bottom had settled down a little. Then he asked for the next
complaint from his suffering slave. A slave who had long ago
forgotten that seven other people watched him withering over the
whipping horse, crying and begging for mercy. 

"No more, please, Master, I can't take another one." 

"We're not done yet, brat. Push your bottom out toward me.
That's right. Get it right up here for the next kiss of this very nice
switch. You'll have to be sure to thank Miss Stinger for the use of
this fine implement. Now, what was number four, Fox?" 

"Ha . . .have to have a marketing strategy!" He howled as the
switch visited his bottom yet again. 

"And?" 

"Need a manager here all . . .all the time. Please, sir. Ah-h-h-h!" 

The switch seemed to sink into the soft flesh, linger a moment and
then bounce away, leaving yet another livid, painful welt. The
sobbing slave raised his head to howl to the ceiling, his bottom
throbbing with every beat of his heart. 

Skinner looked around as every eye was trained on the still
wiggling and well-marked bottom displayed up for their approval.
"As I said, it is much easier to get the attention of a slave/Owner.
But, you should all be warned, not only is he my slave, he's my
heart. No one hurts Fox without answering to me." 

He waited until every eye had shifted to him. "You may think that
your club has been purchased by a spoiled, rich kid but you
shouldn't make that kind of assumption, you would only be half
right. Don't let me catch you being unduly harsh with him. This
brilliant young man and I will make this club one you can be proud
of. I'm trust all of you want that same thing." 

Skinner waited until he had received a nod of agreement from each
of the trainers. He then handed the switch back to the beautiful
dark-haired woman. "Thank you Stinger. I would appear from
your choice of tools that your name is well earned. And although
he may not appear all that appreciative at the moment, you new
employer thanks you also." 

He received a heart-stopping smile in return. "He's very beautiful,
if a little headstrong. I suspect you are a very lucky Master. We
promise to treat him the same as all the other slaves." 

Skinner nodded. "We'll meet back here in one week to evaluate
our progress." 

After one more glance at the gorgeous slave, the trainers left to
resume their duties. Skinner waited until they were gone, then
removed the shield, pulling his slave up to embrace him in
protective, comforting arms. 

"I should give you one more for general attitude, brat." 

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you." The now repentant slave sniffed
into his Master's broad shoulder. 

"Next time I'll let them punish you while <I> watch." 

"You . . .you won't have to do that," Mulder assured him. "I'm
ready to help you with the Club. I promise." 

The Master pulled the slave down to sit on his lap. Ignoring the
yelp as Mulder's sore bottom came in contact with his hard thighs. 

"Can I get dressed now, Master?" 

"No, I like you like this," Skinner patted his hot ass where it rested
on his lap then moved around to squeeze his hard cock. "A bare-
bottomed slave is hardly uncommon on this island, Fox." 

"You always say that, but it's still embarrassing when it's your
bare bottom that's on display." 

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Now, let's hear your ideas for the Club." 

"Well I've been thinking about it." Mulder let his head fall to his
Master's strong shoulder, missing the look of amusement on the
other man's face. "That amateur hour they have at The Arena is a
joke. We need to hire a professional to give that a little life. I've
also been thinking about what people really want to experience
here. What would you think about putting on some little skits?
You know fantasy stuff, brutal pirate and beautiful captive, that
sort of thing?" 

Skinner pulled Fox's head up from his shoulder, a look of utter
amazement now on his face. "Why didn't you just tell me this
before I had to punish you?" 

"I'm stubborn," Mulder grinned as he lay his head back down on
his Master's reassuring shoulder. 

"No kidding. I've called Marcus and your friend, Frohike, to come
down here as our guests." He laughed as Mulder's head sprang
from his shoulder, panic in the pretty hazel eyes. 

"Calm down. Marcus isn't coming for you. I told you, I don't
share my favorite toys. He's an exceptional businessman and we
need his help with this. I called Frohike for creativity." 

"You'll have to put his eyes back in his head first. And," Mulder
looked deeply into his Master's deep brown eyes. "I <do not>
want Frohike to watch me getting spanked." 

"Then behave." Skinner kissed the dark head so close to his face.
"Now I want you to bend over the end of the conference table. I
have other things in mind for that bottom of yours that don't
include spanking it." 

Mulder bent across the table, hissing as his Master rubbed big,
strong hands over his reddened, sore flesh. 

"I don't like having to punish you until you cry but I have to admit
you are so beautiful with your cheeks glowing like this." 

The big Master ran his hands over the gorgeous backside presented
up to him. The buttocks were shining like two gloriously red, ripe
apples just begging to be bitten. He lowered his mouth and
nibbled at the sweet flesh and was rewarded with a low moan from
his pretty slave. 

"Do you like that, Fox?" 

"Oh yes, Master." 

Skinner smiled at the response as he ran his tongue over the hot
flesh, licking until he found the tight ring of muscle that only he
was allowed to use. Mulder nearly jumped out of his skin, his
Master smiling in satisfaction. 

"Calm down, slave boy. You can't come until I give you
permission. Just lay still and take whatever I choose to give you." 

Skinner proceeded to lick, suck and tongue his precious slave until
the man was moaning in total bliss, forgetting completely that he
was being seduced, in the middle of the day, in the Administrative
Offices of a successful business. 

Skinner could hear the day to day activities of a typical office
outside the door. Voices asking and answering question, computer
keyboards clicking, and phones ringing. And all the while the
owner of said business moaned and writhed over the conference
table as his Master drove him totally out of his mind with pleasure.
It was a heady feeling for a Master who loved nothing more than to
control his brilliant and beautiful slave boy. 

Rebecca Wilson, the office receptionist, looked up as the new
owner and his slave finally vacated the conference room. She had
no idea what had gone on in there all afternoon, it was a
soundproof room after all but from the flush on the pretty slave's
face she had a good idea. She gave the new owner a good look
over. Quite a handsome man. She wondered if he swung both
ways. She hoped she would have an opportunity to find out for
herself. 

She gave the owner her brightest smile as he passed, letting her
short skirt ride up and inch or two further on her shapely legs. She
got no reaction at all from the big man, although she saw the slave
give her legs an appreciative glance. Better than nothing she
supposed, although she wasn't into the pretty boys. She liked her
men big, with an over abundance of testosterone. The new owner
looked like he would fit the bill to a tee. 

As she watched the pair leave the offices, she noticed Ed Norris
watching from a shadowy corner where he was supposed to be
changing light bulbs. She shivered. That man gave her the creeps.





* * *

Owner's Suite
Two Days Later 

Skinner opened the door smiling, "Marcus, thank you for coming
so quickly. How was your flight?" 

"It was great," Frohike followed Marcus into the room. "Gotta'
love those corporate jets. They hire the prettiest flight attendants,
you know." 

Marcus chuckled. "I'll let Lee know that you think he's pretty,
Frohike, but I doubt he'll appreciate the 'attendant' thing. He's
my Administrative Assistance and a damned good on, too." 

"Still pretty. Speaking of . . .where's Mulder?" 

Skinner gestured them into the suite. "He's in a training session." 

"And you let him go?" Marcus started for the door. "You told me
what happened last time. Aren't you worried to let him go off
with some trainer without a guard? I'm going down there!" 

"What the hell's going on here?" Frohike was looking around him
like a startled bird. "Going down where?" 

"To oversee a naked Mulder being slave trained." Marcus called
over his shoulder as he left the room. 

"Hey, wait for me!" Frohike called. Skinner didn't think he had
ever seen such little legs spin so quickly. Skinner sighed again, so
much for a business planning session this afternoon. 

Skinner became more than certain that Mulder had been right, they
were going to have to have Frohike's eyes surgically reinserted
after today. They had arrived at the beach just in time to watch as
six beautiful, naked slaves were being trained to hold position. 

The slaves had been assembled into a living statue. Once the
trainer had them arranged to her satisfaction, any movement on
their part resulted in a sharp smack with her ever-ready tawse. 

In this particular work of art, two well-muscled slaves supported a
reclining Mulder a couple of feet off the ground, his spread legs
dangling down toward the white sand, the two slave's gaze locked
on Mulder's long, golden skinned body. Another slave knelt under
Fox, one hand on each buttock lifting him up as if offering to the
other two. Another beautiful slave stood by his head, his lips
locked on Mulder's, while yet another was stationed between the
spread legs, and had swallowed Mulder's proffered cock. Skinner
wasn't sure he particularly liked the liberties that were being taken
with his slave's body, but he had to admit the living statue itself
was both beautiful and erotic. 

"Holy! Shit!" Skinner turned to see Marcus standing in awe at the
sight before him. "I don't think I've ever seen anything so
beautiful. How long will they stay like that?" 

"Depends," came a voice from their left. They turned to see a
slender, white-haired man smoking a pipe. "Anywhere from
fifteen to thirty minutes. That particular pose isn't especially hard
on them." He chuckled, "Well except for that doll-baby in the
middle. He's got to be dying to buck up into that hot mouth that's
swallowed him whole. If any of them get a taste of the trainer's
strap," he nodded toward the red-haired, female trainer known as
Flame. "over this one, it'll be him." 

After what must have seemed like hours to Mulder, but was only
thirty minutes, the trainer's whistle blew and he was lowered to the
ground. His cock glistening wet and hard in the afternoon sun. As
he moved away from the group, a sharp smack sounded and
Mulder grabbed his newly injured butt cheek. 

"Put that thing away, pretty boy." 

Mulder looked down hopelessly at his impressive erection. He
didn't see any way of getting rid of it without thoroughly
humiliating himself before this crowd. He most sincerely hated
this island. 

"Fox, get over here." Flame called, "We're ready for you." 

Mulder sighed and moved over to the group of slaves. This new
statue was obviously going to be some sort of sick tribute to
discipline. 

The unwilling participants had been divided into pairs. On one
side a big slave stood with one knee poised on one of the prop
boxes, a strap dangling from his raised right hand, another slave
draped over his knee, bare bottom facing the crowd, as if about to
be punished. On the other side a slave stood with a long, narrow
paddle raised above his shoulder, one hand on the back of the
slave grabbing his ankles in front of him. And in the middle,
another large box with a slave sitting on it waiting for Mulder. As
soon as Mulder got close enough he was unceremoniously laid
across the big slave's knees, his nose pressed into the hot sand so
close to his face, his bottom high and unprotected from the
scorching tropical sun. He looked over his shoulder as he felt a
big hand settle around his waist. He swallowed hard as he saw the
man above him lift a hairbrush high over his right shoulder, aimed
at Mulder's naked backside. 

"Fox," Flame barked. "Get your nose back down. Now I want
each of you three to start punishing the slave in front of you.
When I blow my whistle, everybody freeze . . .or else." 

Mulder gasped as he felt the brush come down hard on his left
cheek. He hardly had time to register that pain before the brush
descended again on the same injured spot. The brush struck again
and then again, all on that throbbing left cheek. Mulder turned his
head over his shoulder to tell the other man to lay off the same
spot, and the whistle blew. Mulder was caught half turned, his
hands in mid-air, looking at his own upturned buttocks. 

Shit! He would never be able to hold this uncomfortable pose, and
was sure to supply some additional entertainment for the island
voyeurs when he got a good strapping for his failure to obey
orders. He began to sweat profusely and he could feel his still hard
cock twitching between the other slave's lightly furred thighs.
Mulder felt the first tremble run through his body and knew he was
doomed. This had to be the worst afternoon of his life. Then, out
of the corner of his eye, he noticed Marcus and Frohike watching
him. Yep, this could not get any worse. And then the fly took an
interest in him. 

"Oo-ooh," Walter winced. "He'll never be able to hold that pose.
He's toast." 

Marcus looked at the other slaves. The one being strapped had
been caught with legs up kicking, but luckily he was well
supported by the knee under his hips. The bent slave under the
fraternity paddle had his head raised, but again in a position not
unduly difficult to maintain. Fox's half-turn, on the other hand,
was a killer. 

For seventeen minutes the glistening and miserable slaves held
absolutely still under the broiling sun. Finally Mulder could take it
no more. The incessantly buzzing fly in combination with a
muscle spasm in his back caused him to moan pitifully and
collapse over the other man's knees, batting ineffectively at the
kamikaze fly making diving runs at this nose. 

"Too bad, Fox." Flame turned to where she had seen Skinner
standing. "Six on the bare, Mr. Skinner?" 

Skinner eyed the slightly sunburned bottom that was now due to be
publicly chastised. "I should think four would be sufficient, Miss
Stinger. You have a reputation for a strong right arm and I have
my own plans for him later." 

Stinger smiled. "Yes, sir." 

Two of the slaves were instructed to bend Mulder between them
and hold him steady for the strap. The other slaves were released
but continued to watch as Stinger moved behind the condemned
slave. 

"You will ask for each one by number, then thank me, Fox. Do
you understand?" 

"Yes, Ma'am." Several long moments of hesitation and then,
"One please." 

The heavy, three tailed strap landed with a loud crack in the quiet
afternoon. Mulder shifted from foot to foot, but made no sound. 

Stinger frowned in irritation. She did not want her new
employer's Master to think she was too unskilled at her job to
make a pretty little slave boy cry. 

"Thank you, ma'am. Two please." 

Mulder could not help the gasp that escaped his lips as the strap's
wicked tails spread out and burned every inch of his naked butt. 

"Tha . . .thank you, ma'am." The slave took several panting
breaths, "Three." 

Another stroke of pure fire on his seat, legs kicking up
involuntarily causing a spray of sand to pepper the trainer's legs. 

Another long pause and then. "Thank you, ma'am. Four,
please . . .Ah-h-h-h-h!" 

Number four had been delivered lower so the split tails cracked
down on the underside of the buttocks and tender upper thighs.
Satisfied to now have her victim crying and kicking nicely, she
turned the miserable slave boy over to his Master as soon as she
was finished with his task. 

She wasn't surprised to see Mr. Skinner scoop Fox up into his
arms and immediately start back in the direction of their suite.
She smiled, erroneously thinking that the only true discipline that
spoiled brat would ever get would come from the island trainers. 

* * *

Master Skinner's Suite
One Hour Later 

Skinner walked in the door followed closely by a swaggering Alex
Krycek. 

"Hey, what's he doing here?" Frohike snarled as he rose from his
seat on the couch. 

Someone forgot to send my invitation so I just . . .hey, what the
hell do you think you're doing?" 

Alex glared at Marcus who had a naked Mulder spread out on the
massage table in front of him and was meticulously rubbing and
squeezing the agent's bare butt, while Mulder lay bonelessly
oblivious to what was happening around him. 

Marcus looked up from his coveted assignment, glaring at the
interloper. "And just who might you be?" 

"I'm the man who's going to kick your ass if you don't get your
hands off him!" Alex started for Marcus only to be pulled up short
by an big, unrelenting hand on his arm. 

"Alex, this is Marcus Perry. He's a friend of mine, and he'll be
helping us with our plans for the Consortium." 

"It looks like he's helping you with a whole lot more than that.
Why the hell does he have his hands on Fox?" 

"Because," Skinner glared at the irate young man. "I had some
work to do at the club office and Mulder needed a little extra
comfort this afternoon. Marcus volunteered." 

"I'll just be he did." Krycek turned back to Skinner with what
almost looked like hurt in his green eyes. "Why does he get to
touch Fox, but I can't?" 

"Because, he doesn't try to kiss him at every opportunity, that's
why!" 

Marcus gently tucked a sheet around Mulder's body, giving the
dark head an affectionate pat before moving away from the
sleeping man to confront this newcomer. 

"So now you know who I am. Who are you?" 

"I'm the mean-assed, son-of-a-bitch who is going to . . ." 

"This," Skinner interrupted Krycek's threats. "Is Alex Krycek.
He's also my slave but in a completely different capacity than Fox.
Alex allows me to vent my darker side. A side I have no intentions
for Fox to ever experience. He's also an exceptional spy, a stone
cold-killer, and completely obsessed with Mulder. He'll protect
him with his own life, a trait I very much value in any man. All in
all, Alex is an invaluable asset to our little group." 

Marcus and Krycek glared at each other for several long minutes
before Marcus finally shrugged his shoulders. "As long as he
protects Fox I guess he's all right." 

"You guess I'm all right? Why you sorry . . ." Alex sputtered,
again being restrained by Skinner. 

"Cut it out Alex. Now that you're here, sit down and shut up. I'll
wake Fox and we can bring you up to date on a few surprises we
have planned for the good old boys of the shadow government." 

"Wait," Krycek stopped him. "Before you wake him, I need to tell
you something." 

Skinner turned, a frown on his face at Alex's tone of voice. "What
is it? Has something happened?" 

"I got some information from a pretty good source that a cloning
facility in Duluth is where they're holding Samantha Mulder." 

Marcus walked back over, Frohike close behind him. "Samantha?
You mean Mulder's missing sister?" 

"Yeah, that's her." Frohike shook his head sadly. "If that's true,
Krycek, we need to get her out." 

"It could be a trap." Alex looked at the other three gravely. "If we
tell Mulder there will be no stopping him. I say we go in alone." 

"Keep it from Mulder?" Frohike all but yelled. "Are you crazy?
He'll kill us when he finds out." 

"Not if he has his sister back." Alex pointed out. "And if it is a
false lead, designed to lure him into their hands again. I, for one,
will gladly face his wrath if it means he's alive and safe." Krycek
turned to Skinner. "You have to know that there are several key
players in the Group who want Mulder for themselves. We can't
let him just walk into their hands. They fear you, Skinner, but
Mulder being caught breaking into one of their laboratories would
be enough to warrant a change of ownership and you know it." 

"I wouldn't let that happen." Skinner said emphatically. 

"You couldn't get him back if you couldn't find him. They'd
make sure you never found him, Skinner." 

Walter glanced over to Mulder as he stirred on the table. "All
right, Mulder has to report to a work detail this afternoon. We'll
plan our strategy then. Right now we need to talk about this club." 

Once Mulder had been awakened, dressed, properly coddled by all
in attendance and settled as comfortably as possible on several soft
pillows, the first meeting of the new management of White Sands
Beach Club began. 

In the first order of business, Owner Fox Mulder demanded that a
document be drawn up giving Walter Skinner and Dana Scully
each one third ownership in the Club. Skinner argued briefly but
finally gave in to his stubborn slave. 

Marcus Perry was named Chief Executive Officer and a short list
of potential Club Managers given to Frohike for the Gunmen to
research. The Gunmen were also given lifetime memberships and
expense paid travel too and from the club for their services as
Security Directors. 

A new employee manual including specified vacation time and
salary based on productivity and years of service would be
instituted immediately. Each employee would also be eligible for
a profit-sharing program. 

A top-notch Marketing Director, as well as an Entertainment
Director would be hired. Suggested names were given to Frohike
for extensive background checks. 

The new Devil's Island S& M Club had better watch out. White
Sands was now being run like a business. 

They also discussed the new airfield that was being built on the far
side of the island. This field would safely house the two small jets
and three helicopters that had been purchased for use against the
Consortium. The new aircraft would be painted black. 

"I can't believe this," Frohike gave a wide-eyed look at the other
four men. "Since when do we have the money to buy state of the
air weapons and hire mercenaries? What the hell is going on?" 

Skinner slapped the little man on the shoulder, "The privately held
I Believe Foundation and the Hoskins-Perry Corporation have both
donated five million dollars each to our cause, Frohike, with
commitments for more as we need it. Under untraceable names of
course. We have resources now, my friend. Lots of resources." 

"Holy shit!" Frohike breathed. 

* * *

White Sands Auditorium
Two Weeks Later 

Marcus watched as Fox batted impatiently at the wide, ruffled
sleeves of his white, silk shirt. The man had been pacing
frantically, only stopping long enough to peek around the curtains
to watch the seats fill with club guests. 

"Fox, will you just relax. You look gorgeous." 

"When I gave Walter this idea, I didn't mean that <I> wanted to be
the damned captive in the play. Shit! I can't believe this." He
looked down at his knee-high, brown leather boots and overly tight
buff-colored breeches, certainly nothing left to the imagination
there. "And besides, I wanted to be the evil pirate. Why does
Krycek get to be the pirate and wear black. It isn't fair!" 

"Alex is not the pirate, he is the pirate's . . .uh, assistant or 
first mate or something. Walter is the pirate who is going to . . .uh, 
you know." 

"No, I <don't> know, but I have my suspicions. I'm the one who's
going to end up bare-assed naked in front of a crowd again, aren't
I?" 

"Why should you care? If I had a body like yours, I'd never wear
clothes again." Marcus assured him, then gulped when he
received a dangerous glare in response. 

"Shit!" Mulder resumed his pacing, this time throwing a dirty
look over at Marcus every other turn. 

"What's wrong with the rich merchant's pretty, virgin son?" 

Marcus managed to snag Mulder around the waist just in time to
save him launching himself at Alex. 

"Damnit, Krycek. Why don't you just go assassinate someone?"
Mulder yelled as he struggled to break out of Marcus' big arms.
"Or better yet, go find some nice black oil to play with." 

"And miss this little nudey show? I don't think so!" 

"Damned rat!" 

"Spoiled brat!" 

"Arrogant prick!" 

"Clueless dick!" 

"Ah-h-h-h-h . . ." 

"Mulder! Cut it out!" Skinner stood glaring at his troublesome
slave while Marcus held the man with little or no effort and
Krycek bated him from just beyond his reach. "That's just what
Alex wants you to do. Now stop bothering Marcus, I need to talk
to him." 

While Mulder walked over to the far wall to pout, Marcus joined
the Assistant Director out of hearing range. 

"I just heard from Alpha Company. Mulder's sister wasn't at the
laboratory. It looked to have been abandoned for some time, no
one or nothing there. I have to wonder if it was trap. I still have a
bad feeling about it" 

"Do you think they know we took the bait?" Marcus cast a
worried look over at Fox. 

"They didn't engage our troops and they certainly can't tie Fox, or
me for that matter, to the break-in, we're going to have an air tight
alibis after our performance here tonight. Even Spooky Mulder
couldn't get from Duluth to White Sands in twenty minutes." 

Marcus nodded. "I'll have my people put their ear to the ground,
see if there is any word in the Consortium." 

"Are you sure you can trust those people, Marcus. Consortium
members have never been high on my list of dependable sources." 

"I can trust them. My mother planted them in the organization.
They are old friends of hers and would do anything she wanted." 

"I can understand that." Skinner smiled at the other man. "Your
mother is quite a woman, Marcus." 

Perry smiled, "She is that, AD Skinner. I'll let you know if I find
out anything." Skinner watched Marcus walk away, an uneasy
feeling still in his stomach. He glanced over to his nervous slave
as he stood peeping out at the gathering crowd. 

"Fox," Skinner called. "Get over here, we need to go over this
thing. It's almost curtain-time and Mr. Shandling is getting
nervous." 

Gary Shandling was an out of work comedian/talk show host who
Walter had hired to take over the entertainment for the island.
Mulder thought the guy was an insecure, prima-donna who had
somehow convinced himself that Fox was after his body. Classic
paranoid delusional! But no matter how much Mulder tried to
convince him that he was with Walter, Shandling just became
more convinced of his twisted fantasies about the beautiful slave. 

Mulder rolled his eyes as Marcus reluctantly released him,
refusing to even look at Krycek as he made his way over to his
Master. 

"Please sir, I'm begging you. Find someone else to play this part.
I'm not an actor. I can't do this." 

"Gary saw your . . .uh, lack of abilities during the first rehearsal.
He's arranged it so you don't have to act, Fox. The rest of us all
know our lines, all you have to do is react to what is happening to
you . . .uh, I mean. . . what is happening on stage. He thought that
would be more realistic anyway." 

"What exactly <is> going to happen <on stage>?" 

Skinner pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. "You're going to
be captured by a virile, horny pirate who thinks you look good
enough to eat." He turned Mulder, smacking him once on the butt.
"Now go get in place and just act naturally." 

"Naturally, my ass," Mulder muttered as he moved across to the far 
wall. "Of all the . . .stupid . . .who do they think . . . I'm an FBI 
Agent for Christ sakes . . .bunch of blustering bullies . . ." 

"Fox!" Skinner called making the grumbling man turn to look at
him. "I can make this as realistic as I want. Don't forget that." 

Mulder stood frozen to the ground for a moment, he then nodded
once, blinked and hurried to his assigned location leaving Skinner
chuckling behind him. 

Skinner was really quite pleased with how this was turning out.
The arena was aglow with floodlights, the sound system was
working perfectly, and the backdrops on the stage beautiful and
professionally done. Soon every person in the lifestyle would be
talking about White Sands Beach Club. 

He moved quickly to his own mark as he heard his Entertainment
Director warming up the crowd. Skinner really liked the man.
Where everyone else who met Skinner's slave became obsessed
with the beautiful but oblivious Mulder, Shandling had somehow
convinced himself that he was the object of desire, not Fox. It was
just hilarious watching Mulder as he attempted to deal with the
man. 

He glanced over at Mulder who was once again batting at his
ruffled sleeves. That boy had no idea just how attractive he was,
and at this point Skinner had almost given up trying to convince
him. It was just too much fun using it against other people. 

He heard the other <actors> on stage setting up the scene. They
were all slaves, Masters or employees of the club but also very into
roll-playing if the rehearsals were any indication. 

It was a simple plot. A rich plantation owner / merchant had
unwisely cheated a ship captain out of his cargo, little knowing
that the captain is none other than the infamous Black Walter,
ruthless pirate of the high seas. 

On stage: The Merchant conversed with a servant. 

"But you must listen to your loyal servant, Master. The Scourge of
the Seas has been spotted not far from our island. You must take
your beautiful son and flea before Black Walter takes the lovely,
virginal Fox for his own and kills the rest of us in cold blood." 

"Nonsense, my trusted servant. This house cannot be broached.
Black Walter will never set foot within these hollowed walls. Go
get my beautiful son, it is time for us to dine." 

Mulder rolled his eyes at the terrible dialogue. Next time he was
going to make sure they hired some decent writers. He sighed
heavily as one of the stage hands hissed at him again to go on
stage. Shit! 

He stomped out to find himself in what appeared to be the den of a
stately plantation house. The backdrop really was quite
impressive, making up for the pitiful lack of props. One heavy
dining table and two overstuffed chairs. In one of those chairs set
a man Mulder did not recognize from the island. A man who
looked remarkably like his own father had before his death. The
agent swallowed hard as the man's adoring eyes fell on him. That
in itself, coming from his real father, would have been ample
cause for concern. 

The man rose and pulled Mulder into a warm embrace. "Where
have you been, my darling boy. Your dinner is getting cold." 

"Uh . . .sorry, sir." Mulder stuttered, unable to take his eyes off
the doppleganger who stood in front of him. He felt totally off
balance, and completely unaware of the audience who could not
take their eyes off of him. 

"Well no harm done, my pet, no harm done." The father patted
him on the back and waved at the vacant chair at the table. "Come
dine with me and tell me about your day. You know Jacob Fowley
called on me again this afternoon. He is most anxious to make a
match between you and his daughter, Diana." 

Mulder sprayed the wine he had just sipped out of his nose,
gasping and sputtering for breath. The man cast in the roll of his
father finally became concerned enough to rise and pound the
young man on the back. 

"Uh . . .well, I suppose we don't need to discuss that at the
moment. So what did you do today, son." The man moved around
and took his seat again, watching the young man in front of him
closely lest he try to take another drink from his goblet. 

Mulder just stared at the man. 

"Uh, did you ride your horse, Fox?" 

All he got for that was a slow, careful blink of wide, hazel eyes. 

Oka-a-a-y. "Did you spend some times with your friends? Visit a
nearby plantation? Go fishing perhaps?" 

Another slow blink and the father/actor glanced nervously at the
audience who seemed quite content to just sit there staring at Fox
staring at his <father>. The exasperated thespian became
convinced that they could have forgone all this foolish play-acting
and just set this slave boy on the stage and let him read the phone
book to his rapt audience for an hour or so. 

"Did you perchance cheat any honest captains out of their hard-
earned money?" Walter Skinner bellowed from stage right making
Mulder almost jump out of his skin and his <father> sigh with
relief. 

Skinner came into the room, followed by Alex Krycek and Cobra.
Mulder narrowed his eyes angrily as he realized that both of the
other men were dressed from head to toe in black. 

The father rose from the table, banging his fists, again causing
Mulder to jump in his seat. "Be gone, you scoundrel. I demand
you leave my house at once." 

"You cheated me and now I now I claim all your wealth as my
own, dastardly merchant!" 

"I owe you nothing! It was business, fair and square. It's hardly
my fault if I drive a harder bargain than you do." 

"So," Black Walter advanced on Fox's father. "It's a hard bargain
you want, is it? Well here's a hard bargain, old man, you can keep
your ill gotten gold. I will take something that you value more
than gold." 

"See, you demonstrate your lack of a level business head. Nothing
is more valuable than gold." 

"Really?" Black Walter snapped his fingers, hearing Mulder yelp
in surprise as he was seized by Alex and Cobra and dragged from
the room. 

The curtain closed on a weeping and broken-hearted merchant
mourning the loss of his only son, or perhaps they were tears of
relief that his part in this disastrous play was finally over. 

Backstage: 

"I do <not> want your hands on me, Krycek." Mulder fought to be
released from the relentless hands that still held him captive. 

"Okay, Fox." Krycek winked at Cobra as he let go of his prisoner
only to lean forward to kiss a surprised Mulder soundly on his
luscious mouth. He pulled back a few moments later when he
heard the inevitable throat clearing behind him. 

"Having fun, Alex?" 

"Just getting into my part, Captain Black Walter, sir." 

"I don't recall your <part> involving any kissing of the beautiful
captive." 

"Improvisation, sir. It often times makes the performance." 

"I see. You'd best recall it often times makes for a sore bottom as
well. Now come on, drag our captive slave-boy back on stage. It's
time for the second act to begin." 

On stage: Mulder is dragged on stage and released by the Captain's
loathsome, if extremely good-looking minions. 

A very dazed Mulder looked around as he was dragged back out
into the bright lights of the stage. He was vaguely aware of the
audience, but couldn't take his eyes off the backdrop that had now
changed to the inside of a wooden ship. The two overstuffed
chairs having been replaced with two straight back wooden ones. 

"Are you listening to me, slave boy?" 

His contemplation of the set was interrupted by his Master's
commanding voice. Mulder flinched as he nodded numbly, not
sure what he had done to upset Skinner this time. 

"You belong to me now, slave boy. Take off your clothes." 

Mulder's eyes shifted nervously to the audience. 

"Do it!" 

Mulder flinched again, his wide, frightened eyes darting back to
his bellowing Master. With trembling hands he began to undo the
buttons on the hated, white, ruffled shirt. He would have been
deeply surprised to know that the audience considered his shaking
hands and wide-eyed terror to be the indication of his impressive
acting ability. They thought he was born for the stage. Skinner
thought he had better keep his job at the bureau. 

When Mulder stood naked and trembling before him, Skinner
moved forward to run his hands over the pale, golden skin now so
invitingly on display for an enraptured audience. His hold was
unrelenting as he clasped the beautiful slave against his own body. 

"You're very beautiful, Fox." 

Mulder gave his usual disbelieving blink and adamant shake of the
head to that remark. His Master smiled as he heard an audible
sigh of adoration from the spectators. 

Krycek leaned forward, "Yeah, pretty little virgin." 

Mulder mind exploded in white-hot anger. Still held in a tight
grip, he did the only thing he could do in retaliation, he spit at
Krycek. Alex narrowed his eyes dangerously while a few nervous
giggles could be heard from the audience. 

Skinner grabbed Mulder's chin before he could spew forth with
the insults he wanted to hurl at Alex. Insults that would have no
doubt contained words that a seventeenth century virgin would not
have had at his disposal. 

"I see we need to teach my new slave boy some manners. Tie him
to the whipping post." 

Mulder breath caught in his throat as he saw for the first time the
sturdy whipping post that occupied stage right and the dangling
cat-o-nine-tails that his Master held dangling from his right hand. 

Despite his struggles, Mulder soon found himself with his arms
secured high above his head, his feet barely touching the floor and
his body pressed tightly against the rough, wooden post. 

A hush fell over the crowd as the big pirate took his place behind
his beautiful, naked captive. Skinner shook out the strips on his
cat-o-nine-tails. 

"Are you ready for your whipping, pretty rich boy?" 

'No, Master. Please, no!" 

Skinner smiled and swung his mock whip back to let the soft strips
of velvet fly across Mulder's attractively displayed backside. 

Mulder screamed at the top of his lungs, causing even the most
experienced Dom in the audience to gasp in surprise and
compassion. No one, however, was more surprised than Skinner.
He had no idea Mulder was such a good actor. Maybe they should
have given him a second chance during rehearsal. 

He brought the velvet whip down again across the unmarked skin
of Mulder's exposed behind. The slave screamed again, only this
time he didn't stop. He just kept on screaming. Skinner looked
back at Krycek who could only shrug his shoulders in confusion. 

Skinner walked up to his screaming slave, placing one hand on
Mulder's smooth back, rubbing gently. 

"I think you're overacting a little, Fox." 

When the slave just continued to scream, Skinner reached for his
chin and brought his face around to meet his own. He then placed
his lips on Mulder's and kissed him until the man had no oxygen
left for either screaming or kissing. And the audience had all but
melted into the ground under them from the heat of that kiss.. 

The Master looked into the gasping slave's eyes. "Now do you
want to tell me what the problem is?" 

"You're using that whip on me. I'll . . . I'll be cut to ribbons and
I'll have to go to the hospital . . . and . . ." 

"Are you in pain?" 

"Wh . . .what?" Another series of confused blinks. 

"I asked if you were in pain. Have I hurt you?" 

Mulder stopped for a moment to take inventory, surprised to find
that he did not hurt in the least. 

"But . . . but . . ." 

Skinner held up the vicious looking cat. "Velvet, Fox. A stage
prop." 

"Oh." Mulder hid his tear-stained face against the rough post. 

"Oh indeed. Now if I continue to hit you with this thing, do you
think you can react without giving the audience reason to leave
their seats to rescue the pretty little slave from his cruel Master?" 

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." 

Skinner went back to resume his position behind his naked slave.
He shook out his cat and brought it down on the smooth bottom in
front of him. He was surprised when Mulder again cried out
loudly, and started shaking from head to toe. The big Master
rolled his eyes, bringing the whip down one more time before
throwing it to the floor. 

As the Master went to collect his basket-case slave, gently holding
the man until he stopped sobbing about his faux punishment.
Sheesh! 

Skinner helped his slave over to the heavy table, bending him over
one end. He then pretended to unfasten his own pants for the
mock-rape scene. He had no sooner pressed his groin area up
against his slave's bottom than the man started screaming again. 

Skinner looked up to see Krycek with one hand over his face, his
body shaking with laughter. Skinner knew exactly how he felt.
This might well be Mulder's only gig as an actor. They were
definitely finding someone else to play the pretty virgin slave boy
next time. 

When Skinner could take no more of Mulder's screams and pleas
for mercy, he pretended his own release and dragged the bane of
his existence from the stage. He was surprised to hear loud
clapping and wild cheers. He held his sobbing slave close against
his chest, as the other performers went out to take a final bow. 

When Mulder had calmed down a little, he pulled him with him
back out on stage. The slave's body immediately tensed in his
arms as he eyed the cheering crowd. 

Skinner placed his lips next to the man's ear, "Tomorrow we'll be
doing insubordinate agent and surely boss." 

When Mulder turned miserable eyes on him, he whispered.
"We're going home." 

The radiant, delighted smile that statement earned caused the
audience to go wild. 

The first performance of White Sands Beach Club's 'Fantasy
Plays" had been an unqualified success. 

* * *

Location Unknown
One Week Later 

Walter Skinner opened his eyes, then shut them again quickly as
the brightly lights tore into his head. Keeping his eyes tightly shut,
he tried to decide just where he was and what had happened to
him. 

He remembered leaving his office, walking through the abandoned
parking garage on his way to his car and then . . .oh shit, a sharp
pain in his neck, right below his left ear. He had reached for the
offending source of the pain and pulled away a bloody dart. Then
there was nothing but darkness. 

The AD took a deep breath to still his rolling stomach and opened
his eyes again, slowly this time. He was chained to a straight back
chair, in a large, open room. Concrete floors, dust thick on the few
remaining crates and bits of office furniture scattered about. The
place had that desolate smell about it so common in deserted
buildings. Abandonment! Isolation! Danger! 

The AD pulled at the chains that bound him to the chair. They
didn't budge, and apparently the chair was bolted to the floor. It
too was completely immovable. 

Skinner eyes snapped to the door as it opened to admit two very
large men dressed all in black. Mulder would be jealous. A
hysterical need to laugh following fast on the heels of that ironic
thought. Get a grip, he chastised himself. He could not afford to
lose it now. 

"So you're finally awake, Mr. Skinner." 

The AD's neck practically snapped as he turned to the voice that
had spoken from behind him, the smell of cigarette smoke now
overpowering the other smells of a building in long disuse. 

"What the hell do you want?" 

"Just a friendly chat, Mr. Skinner. You see I know that you broke
into the Duluth facility and now you have to be punished for your
disloyal and foolish actions." 

"I didn't break into any facility, anywhere. You need to check
your sources more closely." 

"Perhaps, but I think not. Oh, I know you didn't do the deed
yourself, but I believe the men who did were under your direct
orders." 

"That a load of shit and you know it!" 

"Do I? I could tell the Group about my suspicions I suppose, but I
think I much prefer to handle this myself. Man to man, just
between friends. We are friends are we not, Mr. Skinner?" 

"I choose my friends more carefully than that." 

"Pity." The cigarette man walked around in front of his prisoner,
reaching into his pocket, then lying something on the table just to
the left of Skinner's chair. It was a paddle. A beautiful instrument
actually. Made of a glossy hard wood with a patch of ribbed
rubber covering the center of the striking area. 

"It's my favorite, Mr. Skinner. Looks can be so deceiving don't
you think. I mean on first inspection my little paddle looks so
common, so ordinary." The Smoking Man picked up the paddle
and held it up to the light. Tiny holes shown to be drilled over the
entire surface of the implement. 

"I've brought hardened assassins to tears in less than a minute with
this paddle. No one that I've ever honored with its use has been
able to walk away afterwards. The normal recovery time is three
days. That's why I've arranged a little vacation for you. Three
days to be exact." 

"You're not touching me with that thing, you son-os-a-bitch." 

"You have to be punished, Mr. Skinner. I can't let you just break
into one of my facilities without so much as a word of censure. I
would lose my credibility as a major player." 

"You touch me with that thing and you'll lose your life." 

"Please Mr. Skinner, your threats do become so tiresome over
time. After all, we've trusted you with one of our most valuable
assets and you can't even control your own actions. Perhaps we
need to find a new Master for Fox." 

"You leave Fox out of this, you bastard." 

"Do you even know where your slave is at the moment, Mr.
Skinner." 

"He's in the field on a case. He didn't have anything to do with
your break-in, nor did I. Now I suggest you stop all this nonsense
and let me leave here." 

"Not quite yet, Mr. Skinner. But I have to admit your have
convinced me on one point, I really can't use this exquisite paddle
on you. It would be most unseemly for a man in your position." 

Skinner had to sniffle a relieved sigh. He couldn't relax his guard
completely until they unchained him and he could get out of here. 

The Smoking man smiled at him as he snapped his fingers. The
door opened immediately and a third man came in with a body
slung over his shoulder. A long, lean and easily recognizable
body. Fox Mulder. 

Skinner pulled frantically at the chains that held him to the chair.
"He doesn't have anything to do with this! Don't you touch him or
I'll . . . " 

"Yes. Yes." The smoking man waved a dismissive hand in the
AD's direction. "You've already told me, you'll kill me. Kill me
if I touch you. Kill me if I touch your slave. Really, most tedious,
I assure you. And besides Mr. Skinner, what are slave boys for
other than to make the lives of their Masters easier. Your slave is
going to make your life easier by presenting his own bare bottom
up to receive punishment in your stead. And then you will have
three days to get him back on his feet and back at his job. Very
generous of me, don't you think?" 

The End Part 12