Number's Up


Rating: NC17 - language, adult themes

Category: Mu/Sk / Discipline / No Sex

Warning: Mulder/Skinner

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.

Spoiler: None

Summary: Skinner teaches Mulder the importance of numbers.
Not a part of the Painful X-Perience series.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder or Skinner.
I am borrowing and abusing 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.

Number's Up
By: Di Ann

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, Agent Mulder, have a seat. I wanted to go over this
expense report you submitted for your last case." Skinner
sifted through the large stack of forms in the folder before him.

Mulder swallowed hard, "Are you sure you don't want Scully
involved in this discussion, Sir? She . . . "

"No, Agent Mulder, I want to discuss this with you for the
moment." He glanced up at his decidedly nervous agent.
"There are several questionable items on this report. Explain
to me the nature of this case, again."

"We went to investigate a report of a haunting at a bed and
breakfast in Michigan. An establishment that was, I might add, 
owned by two very narrow minded individuals, Sir."

"For the moment we'll skip over your badge, gun and phone. I
have to ask about this item, number four, "Twenty gallons of
maple syrup."

"I don't really believe that was real maple syrup, Sir, I
personally think it was that fake stuff." Mulder shrugged, 
"Anyway, it is well documented that metaphysical apparitions
are attracted to anything sweet, Sir. So I set a trap for the
ghost with the syrup. It wasn't as thick as I thought it would
be, so it ran in to the lake. That's how the boat sank."

"The boat . . . "

Mulder pointed to item ten on the list, "Well, it wasn't a real
boat, Sir, not like last time. It just had one of those little
motors on the back. It got stuck in the syrup and I though if I
shot the prop, it would come free and we could return to
shore. I missed." He looked beseechingly at this boss, "It is
very difficult to hit one particular part of a tiny little boat in the
dark and in maple syrup, Sir. That was when Agent Scully lost
her Kelvar Vest." Mulder pointed helpfully to the seventh item
on the expense report.

"Why was Agent Scully wearing a vest, Mulder?"

"Well after I accidentally shot off the head of that ugly garden
statue, " Mulder pointed to item nine, Original Gandhian
Sculpture, "she said she wasn't taking any chances. I'm sure
she was trying to be funny, Sir. She hasn't put that vest on for
months, not like when we were first partnered together."

Skinner stared for a moment in stunned silence, cleared his
throat and resumed, "Veterinary services for eleven Canadian
geese."

Mulder rolled his eyes, "Those geese would have been just fine
without the vet, that Mrs. Shirley, the B&B owner, was one
of those animal people and she just panicked. The geese sort
of got stuck in the syrup. It was an Exon Valdez sort of thing.
They are all doing just fine now."

Skinner took in a deep breath and trudged on, "Another
flashlight?"

Mulder grimaced, "Bottom of the lake, Sir."

"Dropped when the boat sank?"

"Well . . . no, Sir. Actually . . . Scully threw that at me. When
I ducked, it went into the lake."

"Your partner threw a flashlight at you?"

Mulder blushed slightly, "Well she didn't like my theory about
the cow and she hadn't had much sleep and so . . . she threw it
at me. It's all right, Sir, I don't want to file a complaint or
anything. She has done worse, believe me."

Skinner looked near tears, "Cow?"

Mulder pointed to item five, "Animals are known to be able to
detect spirits. So I found this cow and brought it up to
Scully's room. I had gotten some abnormal activity readings
there the previous night. Anyway, the cow must have detected
some kind of supernatural force because when I got it upstairs,
it just went crazy. Of course it could have been Scully
screaming like that," Mulder looked thoughtful for a moment,
"or maybe it was her red hair. But anyway, it destroyed that
antique bed. That's item number twelve, Sir."

Mulder looked up to make sure his boss was on the right line, 
"Laid right down on it. I had to rescue Scully or she would
have been squashed. She wasn't very grateful though." He
shook his head sadly. <Oh, the sorrow of a thankless partner.>

"Anyway, I took the cow outside like Scully demanded I do. 
Tied it to our car and when Scully and I went back to get it, it
was gone. So was the car, actually." Mulder pointed to the
report once more, "See item fifteen, Sir? I am positive it was
an alien abduction. And we were missing time, at least I think
so. It was hard to tell when Scully kept yelling at me like that. 
Time always seems to slow down when she is on a tear. But
alien abduction of farm stock is known to happen when
animals are in isolated situations and it was a handsome cow."

"I can see that from the assigned value here, Agent Mulder."
Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 
He was getting that headache again.

"And," Mulder added, "the car turned up the next day in the
lake. It's possible it might run again."

Skinner could only nod, "One pair of size six silk bedroom
slippers?"

"I told Scully you wouldn't go for that. It was her own fault
that she stepped in the manure in her room. She knew that
cow was nervous."

"Mulder this expense report totals more than nine thousand
dollars for one case. A case that you did not solve. A case
where the owners of the bed and breakfast asked you to leave.
They were quite emphatic that they would rather live with the
ghost than have you in their home for one more day."

Mulder just stared at him across the desk, his mouth set in that
stubborn pout that had become so familiar to his boss.

"Mulder we cannot have these kinds of numbers for one case."

"With all due respect Sir, numbers mean nothing compared to
finding the truth."

Skinner saw red. His head was pounding, he was going to
have to justify this expense report to his superiors and this
upstart kid was telling him that it wasn't important. Skinner
glared across his desk at this exasperating agent.

"Numbers mean everything, Mulder."

"No Sir, they mean nothing." Mulder glared back.

"Mulder, I am going to prove to you just how important
numbers can be. What time it is now, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder glanced down at his watch. Jeez, they had been at this
a long time. "It's eight thirty-seven, Sir."

"And what does that mean, Mulder?"

Mulder sighed, "It means it's late. It means that most
everyone else in this building has gone home. And that I am
going to be late getting to Scully's apartment for dinner."

"You are absolutely correct, Mulder. There is no one else in
this building. And I am afraid you are going to be just a little
later getting to Scully. I am sure she is most understanding of
your vexing behavior." Skinner got up, walked purposefully
across the room and locked his door. "I, however, have lost
my patience with you."

Mulder swallowed hard. He did not like the way this was
coming down. Did Skinner plan to deck him? God knows he
had probably wanted to do it for a long time. He glanced at
Skinner's big meaty hands and shuddered involuntarily.

"Stand up, Agent Mulder. You are going to have a lesson in
the importance of numbers. Now take off your jacket and tie."

Mulder stood cautiously, "Sir?"

"Do it!" Skinner barked.

Mulder jumped. This was seriously out of hand. He took off
his jacket and reached for his tie. If he had to try to defend
himself, it would be better to be without the jacket and tie
anyway. He unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt. He
needed more air suddenly.

He watched as Skinner reached into his desk drawer and pulled
out a brightly wrapped gift. <What the hell?>

He handed the package to Mulder, who just stood looking at
the gift and then at his boss, eyes wide and confused.

"It isn't my birthday, Sir."

"That was going to be a gift for my nephew but I have decided
to get him another. That one is now for you. Open it!"

Mulder jumped again and started to peel away the festive
paper. He opened the box and pulled out a rubber backed ping
pong paddle. The name Jason' was engraved on the handle.

Mulder turned it over in his hand, pointed to the name. "Your
nephew, Sir?"

"Yes, he is a championship player. Captain of his Boy's Club
team."

Mulder tried to hand it to his boss, "This looks very expensive,
Sir. I think you should give it to your nephew."

"No Mulder, as I said, I've decided you need that one, you just
hang onto it for now. I'll tell you when to give it back to me."

Mulder looked at him in confusion, "But I don't play the game,
Sir."

"No, you don't Mulder. You never play the game. You have
your own set of rules and to hell with the other people affected
by your actions."

"Sir, I . . . "

"Mulder, I have to explain this expense report to a bunch of
hard-nosed bureau accountants. I will do that. I will do that
because you are my best agent and I don't want to lose you. 
And because I think I can teach you some lessons. Lessons
that will make you an even better agent. Tonight is lesson one. 
You either cooperate fully or I let the bean counters' tear you
to shreds. Trust me, they would love the opportunity to see
you kicked out of the bureau. They like things all neat and tidy
and there is nothing neat or tidy about your cases or your
expense reports, Mulder."

Mulder didn't know what to say. He just let the hand holding
the strange gift drop down to his side and waited to see what
would happen next.

Skinner walked over to the conference table, reached across
and spread the expense report out on the polished surface. It
lay practically on the other side but facing the AD.

"All right Mulder, I want you to bend across this table with
this report right under your eyes."

"What? What do you mean, Sir?"

Skinner turned to face him, nailing him in place with his eyes. 
"You, Agent Mulder, are about to learn just how important
some numbers are. I am going to use that paddle on your
backside and you are going to ask me to do it."

"I will not!"

"In that case, you can have a one month suspension without
pay for misuse of bureau funds."

"But . . . I can't . . . I have a case."

"Yes you do. A case that quite possible only you can handle. 
I suppose I could give it to Tom Colton. He did work with
you on that Tombs thing. I suppose he would..."

"Colton! You've got to be kidding. Colton would try to solve
it like a conventional case. This one is special, I need to . . . "

"Yes, you do. Now lower your pants and get across the
table."

"What! But, I . . . "

"Your choice, Mulder."

Skinner could practically see the wheels turning in his agent's
head. He also saw the moment when Mulder realized he had
no way out of this embarrassing situation.

Mulder stomped over to the table and lowered himself across
it. Forgot about the pants. Got up, lowered them and resumed
his position. Mumbling under his breath the whole time.

"Now, Agent Mulder, I would watch that mouth if I were you. 
Tell me, do you know why I am going to punish you?"

"Because of the damned expense report, <Sir>."

"In a way it is because of the report. But mostly it is to teach
you the value of numbers. That every case has to be solved
but it has to be solved with a prudent eye out for expense as
well."

Mulder snorted but Skinner chose to ignore it this time. 
Instead he reached out and pulled down his agent's boxers
revealing a quite fine backside. He had expected as much.

Mulder gasped and started to rise from the table. A large hand
to the small of his back pushed him back down.

"Did you not expect to receive your punishment on the bare,
Mulder? Isn't it amazing the difference that <one> piece of
clothing makes?"

"Yes, <Sir>." Mulder gritted out between his teeth.

"Good. Now hand me the paddle and ask me to spank you on
your bare butt."

"What!?!"

"You heard me, ask for it. If you don't cooperate, I have ways
of making this worse than it already is. Trust me. Now hand
me your paddle and ask for it to begin."

Mulder felt his face flaming. This had to be the most
humiliating thing that had ever happened to him in his whole
miserable life. He took a deep breath and handed the paddle
back over his shoulder. "Here. Punish me."

Skinner took the paddle but make a tsking noise between his
teeth. "Not good enough. Convince me to spank you. I know
you can be very persuasive, Mulder. You might want to get
this over with before the cleaning crew shows up. Now ask
me nicely."

"Please punish me, <Sir>." Skinner could see the hard, set line
of Mulder's jaw. The man was furious, sarcasm dripping from
every word.

"Not punish you, Mulder. Spank you. Spank you like a
naughty child. Because that is how you act most of the time,
like a spoiled brat. Tell me, Mulder, what do spoiled brats have
to request be done to them?"

Where in the hell did Skinner learn these games. Mulder
buried his head in his arms and took a deep breath. He had to
get this over with and get out of here. He felt totally exposed
lying here with his bare ass on display.

"<Spank> me now. Please, Sir, just get it over with."

"And where do you want this spanking, Fox? And don't give
me an orders, ask nicely."

"Oh Jeez! Will you please spank me on my bare butt, Sir . . .
please?"

"Well that wasn't perfect but I'll accept it <this time>." 
Skinner rolled up the sleeves on his shirt while Mulder rolled
the <this time> over in his mind.

"Now, Mulder, I'm giving you twelve strokes. You're going
to ask for each one by saying the number. So this will last as
long as you make it last. Oh, and if the stroke lands anywhere
besides your butt, it doesn't count. So don't wiggle too much,
it'll throw off my aim."

Mulder gulped. This was a very sick game. He shifted his
weight on the table and shut his eyes. He tried to get up his
courage to ask for the first stroke.

He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly and mumbled, "One."

"Speak up Mulder. I can't hear you."

"I said One!"

He heard the swish of the paddle cutting the air, then a white-hot pain across his unprotected backside. He shifted his feet
and bit his lip to stay silent. He did not want to embarrass
himself in front of his boss. He braced himself to ask for the
next, damn this was horrible.

"Open your eyes and look at the report, Mulder."

"Yes, Sir. Two" It landed with a deafening smack.

Oh Shit! Oh it hurt . . . It hurt! Tears sprang to his eyes and
ran silently down his cheeks. Skinner was hitting him
extremely hard. And the pebbled rubber on that paddle stung
like hell. He drew in a breath. Had to ask for the next one. 
Had to do it now. Do it, before he lost his nerve. Do it now!

"Th . . . three." Wished his voice was steadier.

The viscous paddle sizzled across his thighs. He couldn't stop
the yelp that escaped his lips.

"That one doesn't count, ask for it again."

Oh Shit! Oh Shit! "Three!"

It struck across his thighs again. This time it forced a whimper
from his lips. "Ask again."

"Pl . . . please, Sir. Th . . . three. Please."

This one struck on it's intended target and it was almost a
relief for Mulder. He ran his tongue over his lips and found
the courage to ask for the next.

Walter Skinner used the paddle with a hard, steady swing for
the next two smacks. Each one an agony for the agent. He
stopped for a moment. "Take a look at that report, Mulder. 
Do numbers mean more to you now?"

"Ye . . . yes, Sir."

"I thought you might see it that way. Now what number did
you ask me for?"

"Six . . . Six, Sir."

"Six? Are you sure it wasn't five?"

"No! It was six, Sir."

"Important number, huh, Mulder?"

"Yes, Sir. Im . . . important, Sir."

Skinner looked down at his hapless young agent, he was in a
great deal of distress. This was quite evident from the tremor
in his voice as he asked for the strokes. His handsome backside
was mottled a fiery crimson already. Well, this would be a
lesson well remembered. The AD got on with his lesson plan.

"Seven." Oh Shit!

"Keep your eye on that report, Mulder."

."Yes Sir. E . . . eig . . . eight." Mulder lost his breath with
that one. Wiggled and squirmed on the table.

It took several long moments before Mulder choked out his 
next request. "Ni . . . nine."

Walter raised his arm high above his shoulder again and
walloped his agent's bare right thigh. His agent yelped. 
"Ask again."

"Ni . . . Nine!" Mulder yelped once more as it landed on his
other thigh.

"Again."

"Oh Shit! Please... nine! Hit my butt, please."

Skinner smiled as this one struck right where leg met bottom,
eliciting a louder cry from the agent. Skinner watched as
Mulder looked now back over his shoulder pleadingly. The 
boy was learning.

"Okay, I'll count that one. Ask for the next any time you're
ready."

This was pure torture. Mulder took several small breaths
through his nose. Shut his eyes, tightened the muscles in his
bottom and said, "Ten."

His lower backside exploded in pain, the paddle striking across
both cheeks at once. Oh Shit! Get this over with. Get it over
with now! He closed his eyes even tighter, oh please let this
land on his burning butt so he wouldn't have to ask for it
again. "El...eleven."

"Look at the expense report, Mulder. Keep your eyes open. 
Where do you want this one, Mulder?'

"On my butt, Sir, please." He was crying now. Skinner felt a
moment of sympathy. Decided he would spank now and
comfort later. The heavy paddle landed soundly on Mulder's
backside, once more low down where he would feel it every
time he sat down. Mulder squirmed harder.

"Ask for the next one in exactly the same spot."

Oh Shit! "Please, Sir..."

"Please what? Ask for it Mulder. Do it now or I will add
strokes." He tapped the paddle on Mulder's right thigh, "And
I think I missed a spot right here."

"No! No more. Twelve....on the same ...same spot... on my
butt, please."

"Glad to accommodate Agent Mulder." The paddle came
down with as much force as Skinner could muster and
blistered the already sore area of glowing flesh low on
Mulder's well attended backside.

That got another cry out of Mulder, who continued to lay
wiggling on the conference table, rubbing furiously at his eyes. 
He did not want Skinner to know he had made him cry. He
looked down at the table, he didn't think he would ever be able
to quietly sit through a meeting here again.

Skinner must have read his mind, "Yes, you'll remember this
every time we have a meeting around this table. Just be glad I
didn't invite any other agents in to watch this little show. The
way you piss people off, I could have charged money and
retired from the bureau." The AD chuckled-actually chuckled!

He then helped his agent stand and get dressed. When Mulder
was all tucked away, looking for all the world like a poster boy
for the bureau, his boss took both of his shoulders in his hands
and made him face him. "Next time..."

"Next time?" Mulder squeaked.

"Yes, next time, I may well invite an audience. And I will
order you to call each one and extend the invitation. Do I
make myself clear?"

Mulder's eyes were huge in his face, "Sir, you wouldn't ..."

"Mulder, I would do almost anything you keep you in the
bureau and to keep you safe. Don't underestimate my
determination in that area."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now Mulder, would you like to keep your paddle in the
basement with you or would you prefer I kept it up here. I
have no doubt we will need it again."

When Mulder did not seem capable of making a decision on
the matter, the AD made it for him by opening his desk drawer
to stash the paddle inside. He hesitated a moment studying the
instrument.

"Would you like me to have the name changed on the handle,
Agent Mulder?"

Mulder gulped hard and finally found his voice, "No! No Sir. 
That won't be necessary."

If someone found that thing, it would be pretty obvious who
Fox' was. No way did he want his name on it.

"Please, Sir."

"Well, we'll make that decision later. We'll see how much I
have to use this. If it happens too often, Mulder, your name
goes on it."

He threw it in his drawer and turned to his red faced agent. 
"Now sit down, Agent Mulder, and let's discuss these
numbers again."

"Sit...sit down, Sir?"

The End