Painful X-Perience Series
by DiAnn

Painful Experience X 

FEEDBACK NOTE: DiAnn passed away in her sleep on 
August 23, 2000.
Xanthe has set up a Book of Condolences at:
http://www.xanthe.org/Guest/Diann.htm
Please take a moment and sign the book if you 
enjoyed this story.

Rating: NC17 - language, adult themes 
Category: Vanilla Slash / Pure Trash / 
Discipline Warning:
Mulder/Skinner/Other/Scully Implied If you 
don't like this kind of thing, or you are 
underage, go somewhere else . . . NOW!
I don't want to hear from you and I don't 
want to hear from your Mama.

Summary: Mulder takes off again and this time 
is tracked down by an angry Skinner and 
Sheriff Roy Adams. ***Best to
read first nine parts of this series for this 
one to really make sense.

Spoiler: None Possible mention of certain 
episodes, but nothing too revealing.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own 
Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Krycek or 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.

Thanks, Mudsprite.



Painful X-Perience X
He Ditches Me Not
by DiAnn

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Assistant Director 
Skinner slammed his fist down hard on his 
desk. He immediately sucked in his breath
and waved his injured hand in the air.

**Damn it all!** Mulder had done it again, 
gone tearing off chasing some . . . some 
damned alien or something!

When he got his hands on him this time, he 
was going to murder the man. Slowly. 
Painfully. With absolutely no mercy. And
to punish Scully, he was going to force her 
to watch while he tortured Mulder. **Hell of 
a plan.**

After all, Scully had known that her partner 
had asked Skinner's permission to investigate 
some farfetched tabloid trash story
in Alabama or Mississippi or some damn place. 
**God, he couldn't even remember what Mulder 
had said now.** She
should never have let Mulder out of her 
sight.

The minute Scully had left to visit her 
brother in California, Mulder was gone. 
Vanished. Skinner had awoken early that
morning and reached for him, anticipating a 
whole weekend of Fox Mulder all to himself. 
But instead of a warm and willing
body, he had found. . . nothing. The pillow 
was cold. Mulder was gone.

Walter should have known. When he turned down 
that damned 302, Mulder had not really argued 
all that much. For one
wild, crazy, fantasizing moment, the AD had 
believed that Mulder might actually listen to 
him when he said no'. "Shit! Shit!
Shit!" Walter couldn't remember when he had 
been this angry, but he was very sure the 
last time had also involved Mulder.

Skinner actually flinched when Kimberly's 
voice sounded over his intercom, so engrossed 
was he in his plan for the demise of
his aggravating agent.

"I have an Officer Frank Thompson, with the 
Mississippi State Police for you, sir. He 
says it pertains to Agent Mulder."

Skinner snatched up the phone, "Assistant 
Director Skinner."

He was answered with a distinct southern 
drawl, "We've found an abandoned car near 
Hernando. It was leased to a Special
Agent Fox Mulder."

"Yes, that is one of my men." **The most 
important one, officer.** Skinner felt 
nauseous.

"Was Agent Mulder located with his car?" 
Walter was amazed that his voice could sound 
this calm and steady. He was near
panic.

"No sir, but we did find a small amount of 
blood on the seat. We're having it analyzed, 
to determine if it's Agent Mulder's
blood."

**Of course it's his blood. It's always his 
blood.**

"I appreciate that, Officer Thompson. Please, 
give my assistant all information relevant to 
the location of the vehicle.
Someone from the Bureau will be there shortly 
to head up the investigation into the 
whereabouts of my agent. Thank you."

Walter Skinner sat down and put his head in 
his hands. Mulder was in trouble. Skinner had 
to find him and find him fast; Fox'
life might depend on it. However, he did not 
want to involve the Bureau personnel. One 
more Spooky Mulder disappears to
find little gray men' episode, and his career 
could be ruined.

Whom could Walter trust? Scully was thousands 
of miles away. Besides, he didn't want to 
involve her yet. He didn't really
know the people in the Biloxi Field office 
that well. Whom could he call? Whom could he 
trust to help him find Mulder
quickly and in one piece, so Walter could 
kill him himself?

Then it hit him. Hernando, Mississippi was 
close to a small town in Arkansas. A small 
town with a big sheriff; Roy Adams.
Ex-Marine, good friend and someone Skinner 
trusted with his life, and more importantly, 
with Mulder's.

Skinner picked up the phone and dialed.

"Sheriff Adams."

"Roy, it's Walter."

"Walter, how are you? I didn't expect to hear 
from you so soon. Decide to take me up on 
that hunting trip we talked about?"

"Yeah, Roy, I need you to help me do some 
hunting, all right. Fox hunting. Mulder is 
missing. His car was found near
Hernando, Mississippi with blood on the seat. 
I don't know who else to turn to, Roy. He 
could be in danger. I need to find
him fast, but I want to do it quietly, if 
possible."

"Walt, when are you going to get control of 
that boy?"

"As soon as I find him, Roy, I promise. Just 
as soon as I find him."

***

Mulder was dizzy. And lost. **Don't forget 
lost.** Scully was definitely going to kill 
him this time. No, probably not, Walter
would do it first.

This was his own damn fault. He had gotten a 
great lead on a crashed UFO in this forest, 
but now his first trip into the woods
had resulted in a nasty fall and a bump on 
the head. He had made his way back to the 
car, rested a little, and decided his
head was fine. Then he'd started out again in 
another direction. Only now he wasn't sure 
what direction that had been. And it
seemed that little bump on his head had 
started to bleed again. It had also turned 
into a splitting headache.

He just needed to rest a little, lie down for 
a nap. He heard Scully's voice in his mind, 
"No, Mulder, you probably have a
concussion. You have to stay awake."

"Come on, Scully," he whined. But she was 
right; he had to keep moving. He was sure to 
find the car eventually, right? Or at
least the UFO.

***

Assistant Director Skinner and Sheriff Roy 
Adams arrived at the sight where Mulder's car 
had been found. They had assured
Officer Thompson that they were just here for 
a preliminary look, and that the rest of the 
Federal Investigative team was right
behind them.

Walter figured he had about six, maybe eight 
hours to find Mulder before the Mississippi 
State Police became suspicious.
Then he would have to discretely return to DC 
himself and call in a real Federal search 
party.

***

Skinner was beginning to panic again. He and 
Roy had searched the woods for the past four 
hours and found nothing.

Walter was truly impressed by Roy's tracking 
abilities. He seemed so at home in the 
forest. He kept them searching in ever
expanding circles without losing his sense of 
where he was, or more importantly, where the 
car was. Skinner had a good
sense of direction, but Roy was better, much 
better. Mulder, on the other hand, could get 
lost going to the hotel lobby for
those disgusting sunflower seeds.

Walter tried not to think about the blood on 
Mulder's seat, or the very real possibility 
that he was not in the woods at all, but
being held by some madman again. Mulder was 
like a madman magnet. ** Lunatics were drawn 
to one of their own,
evidently.**

"Does this belong to you?"

Skinner whirled around to see Roy holding a 
struggling Fox Mulder by the collar of his 
leather jacket. He was pale, bleeding,
covered in dirt and leaves, and obviously 
angry at being manhandled. Skinner didn't 
think he had ever seen such a beautiful
sight.

He grabbed Mulder from Roy and hugged him 
fiercely, "God, I was sure you were dead this 
time. Are you all right? Does
your head hurt? Do you need to go to a 
hospital?"

Roy Adams abruptly jerked Mulder back from 
Skinner's arms.

Roy Adams was a big man. He had several 
inches and several pounds on the muscular 
Walter Skinner, so it was no surprise
that the slender Mulder looked like a rag 
doll in his hands. And Adams was eyeing his 
captive like a toy he wasn't sure if he
wanted to save, or just dump in the trash. As 
he shook him roughly, Mulder tried to bring 
his hands up to grasp his aching
head.

"Hell yes, he's all right. That scratch on 
his head is nothing and he is not going to a 
hospital, he is coming with us. Aren't you,
Boy?"

"Ye . . . yes."

Another series of hard shakes, "Yes, what?"

Mulder moaned in pain, "Yes, Sir."

"Roy . . . " Skinner did not want this to get 
out of hand. If Mulder needed medical 
attention and didn't get it, there would be
hell to pay from Dana Scully.

"Quiet, Walt. This boy isn't hurt that bad, 
and he isn't going to get any more than he 
deserves this weekend. But I guarantee
you, he will not soon forget what he learns 
from his trip to see me this time." Another 
shake for Mulder, "If you act like an
irresponsible kid, you get treated like one. 
Right, Boy?"

"Ye . . . yes, sir." Now Walter understood 
why Mulder had seemed so scared when they'd 
found him. He wasn't upset over
being lost; he was frightened of Roy Adams. 
And obviously with good reason. Roy was not a 
man to anger.

To Skinner's amazement, Roy propelled Mulder 
swiftly through the forest and back to the 
car. Mulder's behavior was totally
passive. Walter would've thought that no one, 
including himself, could push Mulder around 
like that without a fight. But Roy
could, and did. And Mulder didn't say a word. 
It was such a nice change.

After Skinner had patched up his head wound, 
Mulder had remained silent and withdrawn on 
the two-hour trip back to
Roy's home in Arkansas. By the time they 
arrived, it was after seven on Friday 
evening, and they were all exhausted and
hungry.

Skinner was impressed with the small but 
beautiful log home in the rustic setting. It 
was blissfully peaceful, so quiet and
private. No neighbors for miles around, just 
lots of trees and clear skies. Mulder seemed 
a little concerned by the isolation.

Skinner thought he probably should be 
concerned. Roy was not happy with Mulder. 
Skinner wasn't particularly happy with
him either, but he was so damned glad to get 
him back. **And, face it Walt, you're glad 
you don't have to tell that spitfire
Scully that her partner slipped his leash 
again.** Walter was so relieved that he 
probably would have just forgotten the whole
thing. Roy was not inclined to be so lenient.

Upon entering the house, Mulder removed his 
leather jacket and immediately took up 
residence in a far corner. Walter
looked at him, **Not far enough, Fox. Not 
nearly far enough.**

"Come here, Boy," Roy growled, as soon as he 
cleared the door.

Mulder slowly shook his head and backed 
further into the corner. His eyes shifted to 
the scowling Skinner, decided there
was no help there, and looked quickly back to 
Adams.

As Roy started toward him, Mulder's eyes 
widened even further in his face. Skinner 
hadn't thought that was possible. **He
looks so boyish right now.** Skinner glanced 
at Roy Adams. The sheriff did not seem 
impressed by Mulder's perfected
innocent' look.

In a flash, he had Fox by the front of his 
shirt, "When I tell you to do something, Boy, 
you do it." *Shake* "You don't ask
why." *Shake* "You don't ask when." *Shake* 
"You just do it." *Shake* "You got that?"

"Yes."

*Shake shake* "Have you forgotten already? 
Yes, what? You just don't learn, do you, 
Boy?"

"No, sir. I me . . . mean yes, sir."

When Adams finally let go of him, Mulder 
inched his way toward the door. Walter was 
too angry with him to protect him. It
would be best to get the hell out of here, 
and fast.

Adams angrily stomped to a closet and removed 
a leather bag. From this he began to lay 
various items out on a nearby table.

Mulder recognized most of them: a paddle, a 
strap, what he thought was a riding crop and 
then a few things he did not
recognize. A bunch of leather harness looking 
things and what looked like some kind of 
clamps. **Oh, God.** Things he
did not want to identify. He really wanted to 
go home. Now.

Adams turned toward the pale young man. As he 
took his first step in Mulder's direction, 
the agent turned on his heel and
tried to run right through his boss. The 
unfortunate obstacle that was Skinner had no 
time to move out of the way.

Skinner reached out and grabbed Mulder around 
the waist to halt him, but Mulder was 
determined in his escape. He tried to
blindly climb over Walter, and when that 
didn't work, he gave a mighty shove and 
turned both himself and his boss
completely around. Now Mulder had his back to 
the wall, with Skinner between him and Adams. 
His arms were wrapped
tightly around his Skinner's waist, his face 
was buried in his designated protector's 
chest.

Walter had just barely kept his balance 
during Mulder's leap into his arms, and now 
the trembling agent was about to send
them both to the floor in one big heap.

To make matters even worse, Roy established a 
firm hold on Skinner's belt and tried to pry 
him out of the way. Mulder
would have none of it, and held on with all 
of his strength. A strength enhanced with 
pure adrenaline.

Pulled between the two, Walter fought 
frantically for balance. Mulder was shaking 
so hard it was rocking Skinner, and Roy
was pulling so hard it took everything Walter 
had to just stay on his feet.

"Roy . . . Roy wait! Stop. Stop a minute. Let 
me talk to him."

"Get him out of there, Walt. Now," Adams 
huffed through thin lips, before backing off 
a little.

"Mulder!"

Just more shaking. "Mulder, talk to me."

"Did .. .did you see that . . . that stuff?" 
Mulder was using that pouting voice again; 
the one that always got him exactly what
he wanted from Scully. Well, Walter was *not* 
Scully.

"Damn it, Mulder, listen to me! What the hell 
do you expect? You nearly scared me to death. 
Waking up to find you gone
took ten years off my life. And if I'd had to 
call Scully to tell her I couldn't find you, 
or worse, had found your lifeless body,
she would have killed *me.* And you know it. 
You purposely waited until she was gone, you 
little shit."

"Mm Orayalter."

"What? Get your face out of my shirt. I can't 
understand a word you're saying."

"I said, I'm sorry Walter."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, I'm 
afraid. Now, let go of me. You're breaking my 
back and making Roy even angrier in
the process. Take your medicine from us, and 
I won't have to tell Scully about this 
fiasco."

**Not tell Scully?** Mulder definitely liked 
the sound of that idea. Scully could be 
deadly when perturbed, and his little
adventure in the woods today would definitely 
perturb her.

Mulder moved from behind Skinner to face 
Adams' angry glare. They had to be back in DC 
in less than thirty-six hours.
How much damage could the good sheriff do in 
such a short amount of time?

"Now, are you ready to come here, Boy?"

Mulder slowly walked over to the sheriff and 
stood in front of him, a defiant look on his 
handsome face. Adams shook his
head, it would have to do for a start. This 
boy certainly had a lot to learn about 
respect for authority.



"That's better, Son. Whatever I do to you, I 
do because I care about Walter over there. 
Always have. If he wants to keep
you, which I have no doubt he does, then I 
plan to help him hold on to you. In spite of 
your poor self-preservation skills, I
might add. I'm sure we can improve them 
immensely. Now, take off your clothes. You 
won't be needing them for the rest of
the weekend."

Mulder stood rooted to the floor, glaring at 
the sheriff.

"DO IT!"

**God, he hated that Marine Sergeant voice.** 
He couldn't help but obey. Skinner used it on 
him all the time.

He slowly undressed. Skinner noticed the 
infamous Mulder Pout was firmly in place. 
**Nobody should be that gorgeous.**

As soon as the last of the clothing had been 
removed, Adams grabbed Mulder's upper arm in 
a vice-like grip and pulled him
unceremoniously over to a scarred and 
battered desk. Sitting down in the chair, he 
pulled Mulder face down to land across
his knees.

Mulder struggled but Roy would have none of 
it. He pulled Fox' right arm up behind his 
back and locked one leg across the
back of the young man's knees.

"You've acted like a damn fool kid. Now 
you'll find out how us good ol' Southern boys 
treat Yankee brats."

Mulder couldn't believe it when Adams brought 
his palm down sharply on his bare backside. 
He was getting spanked like a
child! And jeez, did it sting. This man's 
hand hurt as much as Walter's paddle.

He couldn't get his breath. Roy was spanking 
him so hard and so fast that there was not a 
moment's lapse between one slap
and the next. The pain just kept building. 
Before his brain could react to one burning, 
stinging stroke, the next was falling.

He struggled and wiggled with all his might, 
but the big man had him truly pinned. 
Frantic, he yelled his head off as tears ran
down his face. He'd be embarrassed about it 
later. At the moment, all he could think 
about was the scalding heat in his
backside. So what if Walter was watching him 
be punished like some kid? So what if he was 
completely humiliated by this
position? So what if he had several more 
hours to spend with Roy Adams? Nothing 
mattered. Nothing except finding a way
to stop the onslaught of slinging slaps to 
his now blistered backside.

The slaps stopped as suddenly as they had 
begun. Mulder found himself on his feet, 
although very shakily. If not for Adams'
support, he was sure he would be kissing the 
carpet right now.

"Did that hurt?" Another hard shake.

"Ye . . . yes. Sir."

"Good. Because you are going to get a dose of 
this medicine every few hours." Mulder stared 
at him incredulously. "And," he
continued, "that is in addition to whatever 
else we decide you've earned for this little 
stunt. Now go fix us some dinner, Boy."

Mulder's chin hit the floor, "Dinner?"

"Yeah, dinner. You know, the last meal of the 
day? Has to be prepared, and served and then 
the mess cleaned up? Dinner."

"You want *me* to cook?" Even Skinner looked 
a little unsure of that idea.

"Look, kid, this is the way it is. Until 
Sunday night, you do as we say. Without 
question. You speak when we say you can
speak, you get your butt warmed when we feel 
like doing it, and you do all the work around 
here. Is that so hard to
understand?"

Mulder's head was spinning. Adams gave him 
another hard shake to get his attention, 
"Dinner, Mulder?"

"Okay. I'll see what I can do . . . * Sir*." 
Skinner cringed. There was no doubting the 
sarcasm in that last 'Sir'. He had
known Mulder wouldn't be able to remain 
passive for long.

Roy Adams smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant 
sight. He slapped Mulder smartly on the 
backside, "Get in that kitchen . . .*
Fox*." With that, a miserable Fox Mulder went 
to prepare their meal.

***

Walter and Roy regarded the bowls in front of 
them with horror. Skinner was the first to 
recover enough to ask the obvious.

"Uhh . . . what exactly is this, Mulder?"

"New England Clam Chowder. It's my Mom's 
recipe." Said with a wide grin and sparkling 
eyes.

Walter looked at Mulder closely. Was this a 
joke? No, Fox seemed genuinely proud of this 
dubious accomplishment.

"But we didn't have any clams." Skinner eyed 
his bowl suspiciously.

Mulder shrugged, "I used canned tuna. I used 
to make it all the time when I was a kid."

"You cooked when you were a kid?"

"Yeah, well, after Sam . . . well, Mom was 
kind of out of it, and I got tired of peanut 
butter sandwiches."

Roy Adams looked gloomily at his bowl, "You 
think this is better than peanut butter?"

"Yeah, it's good. Try it."

The two men exchanged looks. Roy rose 
purposefully, grabbed the two bowls and 
dumped the contents into the sink.

"Hey . . . "

Adams patted Mulder on the shoulder, "It's 
okay, Son, you tried. We'll just have to find 
other things to keep you busy this
weekend. I'll do the cooking. You just sit in 
that chair over there and stay out from under 
my feet."

Mulder glared at the older man and stood his 
ground. Skinner had seen that stubborn look 
any number of times. Mulder had
just about reached the end of his rope. 
Skinner looked at Roy. **Uh-oh.** He had seen 
that look before, too. Roy Adams
was not known for backing down. This could 
get very ugly, very fast.

"I said get in that chair! Or would you 
rather go pick out something from the table 
in the living room for me?"

Mulder considered that intimidating 
assortment of paddles and straps, and sulkily 
moved to the chair. He winced as his sore
backside made contact with the hard wood. The 
two older men could hear him cursing and 
muttering under his breath while
they fried bacon and scrambled eggs. Skinner 
looked up to see his old friend grinning. 
"Well, Walt. He's quite a handful, isn't
he?"

Skinner actually chuckled, "Roy, you have no 
idea."

Adams looked over his shoulder to the now 
inhabited chair against the far wall. "Boy, 
you keep that grumbling up and you'll
be having a bar of Irish Spring for dinner." 
The muttering lowered in volume but didn't 
stop. Walter rolled his eyes, **Let the
games begin.**

An hour later, Mulder found himself in the 
bathroom on his hands and knees, scrubbing 
the floor with a toothbrush. ** A
damned toothbrush, for Christ's sake.** This 
was truly unbelievable. Who did that asshole 
think he was, and why was
Skinner just standing by while this happened?

***

Skinner couldn't remember ever feeling this 
good. Roy Adams lay on one side of him in the 
king-sized bed, kissing his neck
and stroking his chest. He had almost 
forgotten how good Roy could make him feel. 
It had been more than twenty years
since he ended his relationship with this 
man, but the years now rolled away like 
nothing. Walter sighed with pleasure.

And then there was his beautiful Mulder on 
the other side of him, with that dark head 
buried between his boss' legs. It was
usually Mulder who lay between him and Scully 
like this. No wonder the younger man was 
usually incoherent and
whimpering with pleasure.

And to make matters even better, every time 
Roy got too intense in his attentions to 
Walter, Mulder would *accidently*
nuzzle between them. Fox Mulder was jealous. 
This was just too good. Imagine that, the 
brilliant, beautiful and sexy as hell
Mulder was actually jealous. If Walter could 
have gotten enough air into his lungs right 
now, he would have laughed with joy.

Seeing that Roy was becoming totally 
exasperated with Mulder, Walter gathered the 
younger man into his arms, rolled over
and tucked him safely under his own body. So 
while Roy did wonderful things above him, 
Mulder squirmed and wiggled
under him. This was definitely heaven. He 
lowered his head and devoured that 
irresistible bottom lip.

***

A couple of hours later, Walter felt a 
sleeping Mulder being roughly taken from his 
arms. He tried to regain consciousness
and hang onto Fox at the same time. Whatever 
was happening, Mulder was fighting and 
cursing. Then he heard a familiar
voice, "Let go, Walter. Time for another dose 
of his medicine."

"Oh," Walter snuggled back down in the covers 
as he listened to Roy give Mulder another 
open handed spanking. It was
really kind of nice. Walter realized just how 
much of his time he spent worrying about 
Mulder. Well, his Fox was in good
hands; he wouldn't be getting into any 
trouble this weekend. Maybe Walter could 
relax just a little. It felt good.

When the quietly sniffling Mulder was finally 
returned to his arms, Walter immediately 
began to comfort him. Not that he
thought the agent deserved comforting, but he 
really wanted to go back to sleep himself. 
But then he realized just how good it
felt. Mulder had quieted, snuggled into him 
and was listening to his soothing words with 
abject intensity. Just like he always
did with Scully. No wonder the woman 
consistently babied him after punishment. 
This felt like the triumph one might
experience after finally luring some wild and 
beautiful woodland creature to come to them. 
Like maybe a fox.

***

Walter looked out the window at Mulder 
working in the back yard. He wore nothing but 
a tool belt and his hiking boots.
**My, my, my.** Now, there was a sight.

Roy's voice sounded from just behind him, 
"Nice view."

"Oh, yeah," Walter smiled.

"I think he might be better looking than 
Luchini."

Instantly, Walter was back in the jungles of 
Nam and by his side was the tall, dark and 
outrageously handsome Tony Luchini.
The first man to whom Walter had ever been 
attracted.

"Yeah, I think he is." Walter chuckled again, 
"Hell, he's better looking than anyone I've 
ever been with, man or woman."

Roy chuckled, "Yeah.. not much with a hammer, 
though."

"I don't think his father had much time to 
teach him about using hammers. Probably 
didn't know how himself. Old Vineyard
money, you know."

"What *did* his father teach him?"

Walter thought about it then sighed heavily, 
"How to cry without making a sound."

"Thought that might be the case."

Walter looked around at his old friend, "You 
know whatever that is you have him working on 
probably won't hold up. He's
hitting his thumb more than the nails."

"Doesn't matter; it isn't anything. Just 
keeping him busy and out of my hair."

"Don't hurt him, Roy. I don't want this to 
get out of hand."

Roy nuzzled Walter's neck, "I would never 
hurt someone you loved, Walter. I saved Tony 
for you, didn't I?"

"Yeah . . . yeah you did." The handsome young 
Luchini had gotten into some serious trouble 
while on leave in Bangkok.
Without the intervention of Roy Adams, Tony 
could have ended up in a military prison. Roy 
did not approve of military
personnel conducting themselves as stupidly 
as Luchini had but, for Walter, he had saved 
Tony.

Walter felt himself harden as he watched 
Mulder suck on his injured thumb again, 
"Think he's okay out there?"

"He's fine. And just think, you can give him 
another bath when he's finished. Why don't 
you come back into the bedroom
with me while that young pup is out from 
under foot?"

Walter smiled with anticipation as he 
followed Roy to the back of the house.

***

"I said, I am not going for a hike."

It was late Saturday afternoon and Mulder was 
dead tired. He was not used to the kind of 
physical labor Roy Adams had
dished out that day. And his backside was 
stinging smartly from his last 'dose of 
medicine,' administered just a few minutes
earlier. This time, the spanking had been 
delivered by the traitorous Skinner. 
Actually, he wouldn't let them know it, but 
his
butt was so sore he wasn't sure he actually 
could walk anywhere, let alone hike in the 
damned woods.

He looked defiantly at the two other men, 
dressed in flannel shirts and jeans. He *was 
not* going hiking in the woods with
two fully-clothed men while he himself was 
totally naked.

"I want some clothes."

"I think you want a taste of the strap."

Mulder glared at the man.

"Walter, go get the strap for Agent Mulder." 
Mulder paled slightly, but didn't break eye 
contact with the sheriff.

When Walter reluctantly returned, Mulder was 
already face down across the kitchen table. 
He was trained in self defense,
but Roy had several inches and at least 70 
pounds of pure muscle on him.

"Quiet down, Boy," Roy put even more pressure 
on Mulder's shoulders to keep him pinned to 
the cold table.

"Six to his backside, Walter."

"I don't know, Roy. He's awfully red 
already."

"Not red enough to suit me. Do it."

Walter lifted the strap high and brought it 
down on Mulder's waiting backside. The effect 
was instantaneous. Mulder's body
jerked as the leather left a crimson weal 
across his skin. He cursed and struggled 
frantically to get up from the table. Skinner
brought the strap down again, and to his 
surprise, Mulder burst into tears.

**Shit!** He didn't want to see Mulder cry 
like this.

"Roy . . . I . . . I can't do this," Walter 
threw the strap on the floor and closed his 
eyes.

He felt Roy's arms around his slumped 
shoulders, "I know Walt. It's all right. I 
had a hard time using that strap on you back
in Nam, too. We'll let the rest of this go 
until later. How would that be?"

"Thanks, Roy," Walter pulled Mulder up from 
the table. Mulder felt almost lifeless in his 
arms.

Walter looked over at the sheriff, "Roy, why 
don't we postpone the hike and have an early 
dinner instead?"

Roy didn't look pleased, "You aren't doing 
that boy any favors, Walt."

"Mm ot ah bhoy!"

Skinner quickly pushed Mulder's face further 
into his shoulder to silence him. **Not now, 
Fox.** Would he never learn
when it was best just to keep his mouth shut?

Adams shook his head, "Go get him cleaned up. 
I'll start dinner."

***

Mulder awakened slowly. The surface he was 
lying on was shaking and he could hear 
muffled noises close by. **Where the
hell was he? Was this an earthquake?**

Slowly it began to come back to him . . . 
Crap! Still at Roy Adams' house and still 
Saturday night.

After his confrontation with Adams' strap in 
the kitchen, Skinner had given him another 
bath. It was so humiliating and
frustrating (not to mention painful) to sit 
in that tub and be washed like a baby. Walter 
had not missed one single spot on his
body, teasingly going over the *good parts* 
over and over. Mulder had not been allowed to 
touch Walter, or himself for that
matter, at all. Then, when Mulder was so hard 
and hot that he was actually in pain, he'd 
been roughly jerked from the tub,
toweled off and shuffled down to dinner.

Mulder had managed, with just a little 
prodding, to stay awake during dinner. He 
remembered Walter pulling him toward the
bed; he must have been asleep before his head 
hit his pillow. Now he had to find out why 
the damn bed was shaking like
this.

He opened one eye and chanced a look to his 
right. Skinner and Roy Adams were clinched in 
an embrace so tight, Mulder
could not tell where one ended and the other 
began. They were kissing passionately and 
Walter was moaning. **Moaning,
for Christ's sake.** Moaning while kissing 
someone else. Mulder was instantly furious 
and launched himself at the interloper,
Roy Adams.

Walter gasped as the man on top of him was 
unceremoniously toppled to the floor beside 
the bed. One very angry, spitting,
cursing Fox Mulder was on top of him. As 
Mulder drew back his fist for the first 
punch, Adams grabbed him around the
chest, trapping both arms to his side. He 
rolled over so the younger man was solidly 
held beneath him, still calling Adams
every filthy name in the book.

Skinner was impressed. He hadn't known Mulder 
knew that many dirty words. He thought some 
were even in foreign
languages. **Been hanging around Navy brat 
Scully too long.**

As Mulder began to tire and gasp for breath, 
Adams wrestled them both to a somewhat 
upright position. He then deftly
flipped Mulder onto the bed face down. The 
agent resumed his struggles and his creative 
cursing.

"Walter, that young man needs to learn some 
manners. Hold him down until I get back." He 
glared at Walter, "And if you try
to stop me this time, you'll take his place."

Skinner's mouth dropped open. Roy had not 
threatened him like that for twenty years. He 
felt his mouth go dry. **Sorry,
Fox. You're on your own.**

Adams returned quickly, his flushed face 
glowering. Upon reaching the bed, he 
immediately raised the strap over his 
shoulder
and brought it down on Mulder's squirming 
backside. An angry red mark appeared as 
Mulder gasped and bucked.

Skinner watched as the strap continued to 
pepper down on Mulder's buttocks and thighs, 
leaving stinging stripes. Fox bit
down on the bed cover and tried not to make a 
sound, but it was simply too much. By about 
the twelfth stroke, Mulder was
sobbing. Skinner felt like a traitor holding 
him down for this harsh punishment, no matter 
how well-deserved.

What seemed a lifetime later, Adams landed 
the final blow and let the strap fall to his 
side. Skinner started to help Mulder up,
but was stopped by the look on Roy Adams' 
face.

Adams grabbed hold of the tearful younger man 
and pulled him to his feet. He held him 
firmly as he swayed, "Jealousy
doesn't become you, Boy. Go stand in that 
corner over there and think about what a fool 
you've made of yourself tonight."

Mulder just stood there and looked at him. He 
couldn't mean . . . "Wh . . . what?"

"I said, get your nose in that corner, " 
Adams pointed to a convenient corner of the 
bedroom.

Mulder was still angry, still resentful of 
this man. This man who had been kissing 
Walter like that. This was just too much. He
was a thirty five-year old Federal Agent. He 
was not going to stand in a corner like some 
chastised child.

"No."

Adams calmly picked up what looked like a 
leather switch. **Where did that come from?** 
Before Mulder knew what was
happening, the thin switch cracked down and 
viciously bit the back of both of his thighs. 
"Ah-h-h-h-h . . . "

"Get in the corner. Now," Adams ground out 
between clenched teeth.

Mulder moved and buried his flaming face in 
the corner. He didn't think he had ever been 
this embarrassed. That was, until
Adams and Skinner began discussing him. About 
how he looked and what should happen next. 
Skinner thought he looked
adorable. Adams thought he looked ridiculous. 
Mulder suspected the sheriff's view was 
closer to the truth. Walter thought he
had been punished enough, but Adams 
definitely did not. Adams would, in all 
probability, get his way.

Then he realized that Adams was kissing 
Walter again. **Shit! Shit! Shit!**

He felt like he had been standing there 
forever. Never one to stay still for very 
long, Mulder began to fidget. Suddenly a
sharp stinging stripe landed across his 
thighs. "Ow-w-w-w . . . "

"Stand still, Boy, you're making me nervous. 
Never make a man holding a crop nervous. 
Especially when you're buck naked.
Words to live by, Fox."

Mulder tried to stand absolutely still. 
Minutes passed, but it seemed like hours. He 
realized that Adams and Skinner were
making those quiet little sounds again. And 
Skinner was moaning, again. **Damn it!** If 
that SOB didn't get his hands off
Walter right now . . .

Could things get any worse? His backside was 
on fire, the tears would not stop rolling 
down his face, he was stuck standing
in this damned corner while that man was 
putting the moves on Walter . . . his Walter 
. . . and it was still only Saturday night.

And then the bed started shaking again.

***

Skinner was worried about Mulder. He was in a 
foul mood this morning, and not trying to 
hide it. Walter sighed. A jealous
Fox Mulder wasn't nearly as attractive as 
Walter had thought it would be. He seemed to 
be trying his best to deliberately
antagonize Sheriff Adams. Not smart.

Skinner had to give Roy credit. He had been 
more patient than expected. He seemed to 
understand that while Mulder was
obviously beautiful, he was also insecure. It 
took a good two hours of sarcastic remarks 
and deliberate rebelliousness for
Roy to act.

Roy had gone easier on him this time but 
still, Mulder wouldn't be able to sit down 
for a week.

***

Walter watched from the back porch as a very 
hot, very sweaty Mulder painted an 
outbuilding. Well, that wasn't exactly
accurate. He actually had more white paint on 
himself than on the wood in front of him. 
**I'm never going to be able to clean
him up enough to pass Scully's inspection,** 
Skinner thought despairingly.

And he absolutely could not allow Scully to 
discover that she had left her partner in 
Skinner's care, only to have him ditch
their boss the very night she left. Or that 
the AD had allowed Roy Adams to torture 
Mulder for two days. Or that he had
watched passively as Fox drowned himself in 
white paint.

Walter Skinner experienced a sudden powerful 
premonition that the two of them would not be 
able to keep this ordeal a
secret from Special Agent Dana Scully. God, 
that woman had a temper that no man in his 
right mind would willingly want to
face. Under the right circumstances she could 
make his and Mulder's lives miserable. And 
those circumstances would
certainly include coming home to a 
well-beaten, bruised and whitewashed Mulder.

As Walter watched in horror, the sticky, oily 
paint dribbled down Mulder's right arm, clung 
to his elbow for just a moment,
then landed with a plop right on top of his 
dark head. Jeez!

"Damn it, Mulder! At least keep it out of 
your hair."

End Ten