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WARNINGS ATTACHED!!


Best Served Cold II
by Noirceur


Chapter Seven—In Which Training Moves Downstairs

The next morning, Skinner lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, rehashing his thoughts from his middle of the night contemplations

He had decided that he had no intention of stopping the training: his pet needed it if he were going to make up for all the pain he had caused. But after almost succeeding in breaking him, Skinner discovered he really didn't much care for a dispirited pet.

And he really had to admit that he had enjoyed that last session. That, though it pleased him to see his pet responding to pain, he had also reaped the benefits of seeing him respond to pleasure.

His original plans for his pet had only gone as far as his mastering of his enemy. He had had his pet's screams, his pleadings, his tears. And he had enjoyed each and every one of them.

Now, the situation had changed. He wanted more than revenge for past events. He wanted to hear his pet use last night's final tone as he asked for training.

Maybe that was part of the problem: he was so overworked at Headquarters that he had been too focused on training to deal with the obvious. That his pet was a wonderfully sensual, sexual creature.

Eyes closed, he dropped his hand to his cock, played with it as he thought of the beauty that was his pet. Now that his pet seemed to understand and be accepting his position in his master's life, he should take advantage of the fact. That, as he stroked himself, orgasm—he grunted his release—was as good a stress-releaser as was the training.

When he went in to his pet, he found him awake, eyes watching him enter with...anticipation? He released him, led him into the bathroom. Maybe he was only imagining it, but his pet seemed more... interested—he wouldn't use the term eager—this morning.

After the regular morning ritual, Skinner helped his pet into the tub. Their mixed come was flakey on his pet's body, his hair matted where Skinner had wiped his hand.

"Itchy, Pet?" Skinner rubbed the palm of his hand over the sticky white.

"Yes, Master."

Skinner rinsed a face cloth under the tap, lathered it up and, gently rubbing circles on his pet's body, he cleaned off the dried come. His pet, he noticed, leaned into the hand touching him.

Skinner sat on the edge of the tub and slowly washed his pet's body, actually playing with it, watching his pet for any and every reaction. When the soapy cloth enveloped his cock, his pet jerked his hips, made a soft sound that could have been a moan. Skinner took the cloth away and this time the sound might have been a faint protest.

Skinner placed his hand on the back of his pet's head, indicating that he wanted him to lean forward. The cloth carefully cleaned his back, taking time with each buttock, making certain that the skin between each of those was absolutely clean. In fact, his finger had to run up and down several times to insure that its work was done, lingering over his pet's hole.

When he indicated that his pet was to sit up, so that he could turn on the shower to wash his hair and rinse him off, Skinner noticed that his pet's eyes had darkened.

Instead of the usual rough quick drying, Skinner took his time. When he was done, he really did have to inspect his work, making certain that his pet was indeed dry. By the time he had satisfied himself by stroking and caressing his pet's body, they were both breathing harder than usual.

Skinner took his pet's lead in hand, directed him to the door of his room.

Krycek looked up from his position, not really knowing what was expected of him.

Skinner ignored the confusion in his pet's eyes, opened the door and led his pet down the hallway, to the top of the stairs. The last time Krycek had seen those steps, he had dragged himself up them, accompanied by Skinner swinging his belt.

Skinner looked down at his pet. "I think you'll find it easier to get down if you go backwards." And he dropped the lead.

Krycek slowly turned so that his knees rested at the top of the first step and went down, anxiously checking with Skinner for confirmation that he was doing as he was supposed to, until he reached the landing. Skinner came down the stairs, passed him and waited for him at the bottom. Once Krycek assumed his heel position by his Master's feet, Skinner smiled at him, picked up the lead and ruffled his hair. "Well done, Pet."

And saw his pet's eyes suddenly go shy.

He led his pet into the kitchen, had him assume his position beside a chair by the table. Once more, he released the lead and nodded approvingly as his pet turned his head to watch his Master go about preparing breakfast.

Skinner set a bowl filled with porridge, brown sugar, cream, pecans on the table. He filled a smaller one with porridge and brown sugar.

"Up on your knees, Pet. Sit back on your heels. Good. Whenever I feed you from now on, this is the position you're to take. Understood?"

"Yes, Master." And the slight tone of wonder in his pet's voice pleased him.

Between spoonfuls for himself, he fed his pet from the smaller bowl. Boost and chopped up power bars were fine enough as staples, thought Skinner, but his pet needed to put some meat on those bones of his.

He waited until his pet had eaten, held a glass of milk to his mouth. Krycek made a small grimace, opened his mouth and accepted the liquid. "Don't like milk, Pet?"

Krycek sighed. "Don't like the taste of it, Master," he admitted with a soft voice.

Skinner laughed, went to a cupboard. He stirred something into the glass and, crouching, presented it to his pet. "Is this better?"

Krycek looked at the now chocolate-coloured liquid, bit his lower lip and gave a little nod.

"I'll remember from now on, Pet," Skinner promised.

Startled green eyes met his over the rim of the glass.

Those eyes grew worried when Skinner led his pet into his office and he saw the table Skinner had used for the piercings. Skinner said nothing: it was not up to him to explain himself to his pet. Still, he did give his pet a boost so that he could swing his knees up onto the tabletop.

He had placed the table by his desk chair so that, as he read, his left hand would have something to play with, should it amuse him.

First though, his pet was rather too plain for his mood today. He had him sit up as for feeding and looked his pet's body over with a critical eye. Then he went to get the purple bag from his desk, hiding it from his pet's view.

"Since I've ringed them, your nipples are not going to be easy to clamp, Pet. But I like the elongated shape of them so I think these will help keep them that way." And he hung from the smaller of the rings a couple of the small plumber's leads which were heavier than they looked.

"And your chest seems too bare. This might do." From one larger ring to the other he attached a gold chain, decorated that with what seemed at first glance to be fishing lures, spinners that would grow heavier as the day passed.

From the navel ring, Skinner hung another of the gold chains whose other end he attached to the oval that pierced his pet's foreskin. It was only long enough to hold his cock to a half mast position, pulling a little on both rings.

"Position, Pet." And Krycek leaned forward, resting his weight on his shoulders, ass high in the air. Gravity pulled on the weights on his nipples, the chain, even his cock.

Skinner passed a hand under his pet's body, making certain that nipples, navel, cock and their decorations were all easily accessible to his hand.

Then he stood behind his pet. "I intend fucking you tonight, Pet. Good and hard, up your ass. You're still a little too tender for that right now, but after a day of wearing this," he eased a butt plug, lubed with medicated ointment, into his pet's ass, "you should be able to endure a little more tenderness."

He slipped his hand between his pet's spread thighs and noted that his pet's cock was less flaccid than it had been. So his pet liked the idea of being fucked, did he?

"I want to start working on your balls, Pet. I want them lower, so that they swing between your thighs when you move. These weights will help pull them down more so that soon I'll be able to add another ring to your collection. Now for some added definition. This thong is leather. Nice and soft. I'm going to use it from now on to separate your balls, Pet. Through this loop and under, and up again. I'll leave this length free so that I can tighten it whenever I feel like it."

He passed a soothing hand over his pet's trembling back, enjoying his pet's reactions to his words. He went to tighten the thong but decided that, for the first day, the tension was more than ample. He wanted his pet to feel the thong, but not beyond the edge of pain. Not today.

He used the usual restraints and then stood back to admire the lovely picture his pet made in this position. He might not be able to spend all his time enjoying this view, but it would make going through the rest of those reports a little easier.

He settled in his chair and tested out the position of the table and his pet. It was low but if he bent over, he could pass his hand under his pet's torso, pull on the weights that decorated his pet's nipples, play with his cock, tug on the leather separating his pet's balls, even use the plug to tease his ass. His pet's responses were very satisfying: soft gasps, low moans.

If he continued with this particular training, Skinner thought, he would need to find a higher table for his pet.

Sometime after the third report, he realized that his pet's body was sheened, slight shivers making it quiver. And his pet was hard, pushing his cock against his hand whenever he reached to play with it. "Pet," he spoke sternly, "I hope you know you don't have permission to come until I allow it. And since the cock ring is upstairs and I don't feel like going up for it, you'll have to tell me whenever you feel close to the edge. I don't want to ruin tonight with punishment instead of reward, Pet. Is this understood?"

His pet whimpered, "Yes, Master."

It didn't take particularly long, especially since Skinner paid more and more attention to his pet's body. In a timorous voice, as if not certain of how he would react, his pet whimpered, "Master?"

"Yes, Pet."

"Master. I'm...I think...Master, you told me to tell you..."

"I told you to tell me when you thought you were going to come. Is that what you're trying to tell me now, Pet?"

"Yes, Master."

Skinner stopped his hand from playing with his pet's turgid cock. He slipped it to his pet's now-sensitized balls and squeezed. His pet gasped but his cock obediently reacted.

"You did that well, Pet. I'm pleased that you followed my instructions." He rubbed his free hand over his pet's back. "Remember, I want to fuck you tonight. You're not permitted to come until I allow you. If I allow you."

At lunchtime, he had his pet follow him into the kitchen. There he fed him bits of a sandwich, had his fingers timidly licked by a pet who seemed not at all certain of the rules outside of his room. As his pet's cock softened, Skinner found himself hardening at the sight of his pet's incredible eyes that revealed his every emotion. In the artificial light of his pet's room, he had denied himself that pleasure.

And the pleasure of properly seeing his pet bear his marks on his body. Back in his office, his pet once more in position for his attentions, he let his hands wander over the fading marks of his ownership, all the while once more arousing his pet. It had pleased him to put them there, pleased him to see them, to touch them.

He wondered how much more pleased he would be if his pet ever asked for them to be placed on him.

The beeper on his watch startled both of them. Skinner grinned, tossed the report onto the pile in the briefcase, closed it. He helped his pet down off the table and brought him into the living room, stayed him by the couch which faced the large screen TV. Skinner got himself a beer, a glass of juice with a straw for his pet and made himself comfortable for the football game that was just starting. He had his pet come sit by his legs, place his head on his lap. Skinner amused himself by playing with his pet's hair, his features, his shoulders as the game progressed.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to come, Master."

Skinner looked at his pet's face, lids heavy with arousal, lips wet, face flushed. He had missed seeing this all day what with his pet's face away from him.

"You're not to, Pet."

"Yes, Master, I know." His pet sounded a little plaintive, thought Skinner.

"I'm going to have to use a cock ring on you next time, Pet." He reached down his pet's body, to his cock and gave it a painful squeeze at the root. For a moment, he thought his pet was going to disobey him and come. Shit! He really didn't want to have to punish his pet tonight. But the moment passed and his pet's cock settled.

"Thank you, Master."

Skinner smiled: his pet sounded more than a bit frustrated.

"I think, Pet, we are going to make an early night of it tonight. This carpet was recently cleaned and I don't intend having it cleaned again soon. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Master."

The rest of the game could have included the sudden appearance of aliens for all Skinner knew. Twice more he had to cool his pet's arousal and it only increased his own. No sooner had the game ended than Skinner stood up.

"Upstairs, Pet. Wait for me at the door of your room. And I don't want to see you rubbing yourself on the steps going up."

"No, Master."

From the bottom of the stairs, Skinner watched his pet make his way up, stiffened cock bobbing, bound balls moving back and forth between his pet's thighs. He waited until his pet was working on the second series to get what he needed out of the downstairs bathroom.

His pet waited in perfect heel position as he opened the door, turned on all the lights. Skinner had no intention of missing any reaction on his pet's face.

"Your mat, Pet."

Once there, chained in place, Skinner slipped on the cock ring from his pet's stock of toys, made it tight so that he could play with him until he felt like letting his pet come.

Krycek looked disappointed but, other than a small groan, said nothing, hiding his face behind his hair. That was another thing, thought Skinner: he had to do something with all that luscious hair.

He began by caressing his pet's body with long, soothing strokes that did anything but soothe. His pet had been on the point of coming for most of the day. It didn't take much to return him to that point again.

And he himself was not that far away. Hell, he was going to need a cock ring too if this kept on.

So he slowed his hands, used his mouth to elicit those delicious sounds from his pet that only served to make him harder. He played with the weights on his pet's nipples, tugging at them, making his pet's chest arch into the sensation. As his hands stroked teasingly along the rib cage, down long-muscled flanks, his pet's ass bucked as though he were trying to fuck himself on the plug in his ass.

Skinner's arousal rose at the sight of his pet, head tossed back, neck tendoned, chest rapidly rising and falling, hips almost demanding his attention. His own body was so heated that his t- shirt and sweat pants were becoming soaked.

Skinner rose, stripped quickly. As quickly, he rolled a condom onto himself, lubed it. He turned his pet into position, pulled the plug out not at all gently, not that his pet seemed to mind. Hard hands gripping his pet's hips, he stilled them long enough to align himself with his pet's asshole, then, with one rushed move, plunged deep into his pet's hot ass.

His pet screamed, whether in pain or in pleasure was hard for Skinner to distinguish. Not that he cared: his own moan of satisfaction mingled with his pet's.

They paused, each catching his breath. Skinner moved first, slipping his hands under his pet's body, to his nipples and gripping around them, he pulled his pet's body close so that his ass sat solidly against Skinner's erection.

"I want you to show your Master how much you've appreciated this weekend, Pet. I want you to fuck yourself against me. I want you to make me come all by yourself."

And he dropped a hand to his pet's ringed cock, passed his palm along the dripping head and gave it a stroke. His pet's ass pulled forward and the internal muscles, strengthened from his Master's desire that anything inserted in his ass was to stay there, squeezed his Master's cock so that Skinner's voice groaned his approval.

Shoulders on his mat, body shifting back and forth, Krycek milked his Master's cock for all he was worth. As his own cries, more of frustration than pleasure, mingled with his Master's, Skinner unsnapped the cock ring and felt his pet's cock go even harder in his hand. He copied the rhythm that his pet had established but his pet had been on tenterhooks for too long: with a keening scream, Krycek came, his come shooting over his Master's hand. His ass muscles froze in the process of capturing his Master's cock and that was all Skinner needed to go over his edge. He came deep within his pet's ass.

With a sigh of content, Skinner sagged onto his pet's back, his pet's position keeping him off the mat.

Slowly, Skinner moved off the slickened body, found his own position, almost a duplicate of his pet's. He must have dozed off because he came to himself to find his pet snuggled close to him, eyes closed, hips in the forbidden position of resting on his feet. Skinner closed his eyes, feeling no need to punish his pet for this disregard of the rules.

Not today.

###

The eyes that greeted him those next evenings were hope tinged with wariness. It was obvious that his pet did not believe in this turn of fortune, but was willing to go along with the easier training.

Every night, Skinner opened the door of his room, released his pet from whatever position he had placed him in for the day, might change some of his decorations, but would then instruct him to go downstairs to the kitchen.

His pet still ate his morning meal in his room, but now, evenings, he joined his Master, accepting his food from his Master's hands, licking them clean in thanks.

The evening's training came next. Sometimes, Skinner slipped a cock ring onto his pet; other times not, with the warning reminder that he was not to come unless allowed. Either way, he then set about making it very difficult for his pet.

The first evening, Skinner still had reports to read, so his pet waited patiently on his table, unrestrained, on his back this time, while Skinner rewarded himself at the end of each report by playing with his pet's body. That night, they didn't make it back to his pet's room: Skinner flipped his pet around, took him almost brutally. His pet was so aroused by then that he doubted that his pet noticed the less than gentle way his Master pumped himself into orgasm before allowing him to come in turn.

Another evening, Skinner settled in front of the TV to watch a basketball game. He spent the first half, his kneeling pet between his knees, stroking and teasing his body until his pet, cock tightly ringed, was in tears. At half time, he asked, "Would you like to come, Pet?"

Krycek was flushed red with thwarted arousal, from his head to his groin. Even his cock head was deep purple with restrained blood.

"Yes, please, Master," he gasped.

Skinner pulled on his pet's balls, the sudden pain dampening his need. He unsnapped the cock ring and sat back in the couch, stretching out his denim-clad leg.

"Then you may, but against my leg, Pet."

Krycek managed to cover the small distance quickly, almost throwing himself against his Master's leg. Like a dog, he humped the rough material, letting his Master know his appreciation by his vocalizations, by keeping his eyes on his face all the while he rubbed his cock between his body and his Master's leg.

As he came, Skinner grabbed hold of his face so he could see the effect of his pet's orgasm on his eyes. They grew glassier as he shouted, the green darkening, the iris widening until all Skinner could see of the green was a thin ring around the open iris.

Skinner bent and took possession of his pet's mouth, wide open as it was with the rictus of his orgasm. Krycek closed his eyes, let his Master claim dominance over his mouth, as was his right.

Then Skinner opened his jeans, took out his own erection and stroked it until he shot all over his pet's face.

"Clean my pants first, Pet, then yourself."

And spent the second half watching as his pet meticulously licked every bit of his come off his Master's jeans, then, with his Master's permission, wiped his face against his Master's jeans and cleaned them off again.

###

"I'm going to fist you this weekend, Pet. And this time, when my hand is deep in you, you're going to come when I tell you to."

Skinner was watching some cop show on television, sitting in the middle of his couch, feet propped up on the table where his pet was usually in position for his attentions. Except that tonight, collar leashed to one of the table restraints, hand attached to the back of the waist belt, fettered ankles chained to the knee spreader, his pet lay across his lap, caged cock between his Master's thighs, awaiting his Master's pleasure.

Tonight, his Master's pleasure had been, so far, to slip a dildo into his ass, the same one that had caused him to be so severely punished when he hadn't been able to keep it in his ass. Skinner had lubed it well, was playing at twisting it in and out of his pet's ass, while his pet muted his responses against the cushion.

"On Saturday, I think. I'll clean you out properly and then leave you to open yourself up for me."

His pet was feeling braver these days with this new behaviour of his master's. "Master?"

"Yes, Pet."

"How am I to do that?"

"Leave a little anticipation for then, Pet. Right now, I think you have something else to worry about."

"Master?" His pet's voice reflected the uncertainty he felt that was never far away, no matter how good his Master's mood.

"I love your ass, Pet. Have I told you that?"

"Yes, Master." Now his pet was carefully neutral.

Skinner grinned. "I love the shape of it." He stroked a hand over the globes. "The sight of it, especially with your hole nicely open as it is now." He moved the dildo in and out again, pulled it completely out and, leaning over, deposited it on the table. "My marks look good on it, even if they are in need of replacement."

His pet trembled at that thought. "Master?" he whispered, continuing when Skinner grunted, "Will you be doing that soon? Replacing them?"

Skinner could hear the disquiet in his pet's voice. He rubbed a soothing hand on the lovely mounds that claimed his attention tonight.

"Soon, Pet. But I promise to give you time to prepare for them this time. I'll put you in submission first, and when I think you're ready, I'll mark you. I would prefer not to chain you down this time, Pet. Do you think that'll be possible?"

Skinner felt his pet take a deep breath. "If it is what you want, Master."

Skinner moved his rubbing up his pet's spine to the top of his shoulders. "You need to wear my marks, Pet," he explained gently. "They're there to remind you that not only do I own you, but that you deserve to wear them."

"Yes, Master."

Skinner slowly caressed his pet's ass, almost moved by the tone of near acceptance in that last reply of his pet. He decided to push his pet one step further in his training. "I would prefer that you want to wear them as well."

Krycek didn't answer right away. Skinner gave his shoulder an understanding squeeze. "It's all right, Pet. I expect that may be a bit much this soon in your training. But that's for a later date. Right now, I have this lovely ass on my lap and it's far too white for my taste. It needs colour, Pet."

And he brought his hand down hard on one of the tight globes, raising a pink hand-print.

His pet grunted in surprise.

Slowly, taking time to appreciate every shift in colour on his pet's ass, Skinner continued, taking his time, spanking his pet throughout the next program he was listening to, some political interview thing on PBS that had the Director of the FBI in its grilling seat. Skinner listened with half an ear as the Director, political crony and whore that he was, explained away sensitive situations as though they were a golf game.

Now and then, when a particular response of his boss irritated him, Skinner's hand came down harder on his pet's wriggling ass.

By the end of the program, his pet's buttocks, the top of his thighs were flaming red, as was the palm of Skinner's hand. His pet's face was streaked with tears, his breath hitching with sobs that the cushion no longer muted, that Skinner hadn't heard once the Director had hinted at deals that were for the good of the country at large.

He cleaned his pet's face, brusquely took him up to his room still wearing the cage around his now flaccid cock.

When Skinner checked in before going to bed, his pet was in position, his reddened ass in the air, breath hiccuping as though he had cried long after the spanking had stopped.

Skinner removed the cage, took the bottle of lotion, smoothed some onto his pet's red bottom and blindfolded him in order to put him into submission for the night.

"Master?" his pet whispered.

"Yes, Pet."

"Are you going to mark me tomorrow, Master?"

It took Skinner a moment to remember his promise to put his pet into submission before he marked him next time. "No, Pet. This is for you. Get some rest. You'll find your ass won't hurt you anywhere near as much tomorrow."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

###

Skinner looked over at his pet and wondered at his beauty.

Saturday had begun with the usual rituals. This time the enema cleansing had been thorough as Skinner intended to carry out his promise to make his pet come as he fisted him.

He insisted his pet eat a light breakfast, knowing that the day would be hard on his pet, but not wanting him to lose the weight the past week had added to his bones.

Now his pet knelt in the doorway of the closet. His collar and hand were chained with a fair amount of leeway to the top beam; his ankles, to either side of the doorway.

Skinner had decided that it would be only fair for his pet to open himself up in preparation for his Master's fist. The dildo was huge, tapering from a narrow head to a base that was nearly as wide as Skinner's fist. Skinner had lavishly lubed it, set his pet's ass just over the point and left him to decide how and when he would slide his ass down to the base.

"You do have a time limit, Pet. I want to find that dildo in you, all the way, by the time I finish with the shelving and display wall."

His pet had acquired so many toys and training implements, punishing ones as well, that Skinner felt it was time for all of them to be on display where they would be readily at hand whenever he wanted them. So, to that purpose, he was using one of the walls in his pet's room to put up shelving and a display board.

And Skinner worked to the music of the whimpers, the grunts, the occasional moans of his pet as he worked at easing in the dildo, stretching himself for his Master's hand.

Since sex had entered his pet's training, Skinner had decided he wanted to come in his pet's throat without having to worry about him gagging. This was as good a time for that training as well. He used the brace to open his pet's mouth large enough to fit his cock in to the root. He inserted a cock gag, a short yet thick form that ended near the back of the throat, into his pet's mouth so that he could grow accustomed to having something big and long in his mouth, without gagging or vomiting.

His pet was more than uncomfortable with that. In fact, it caused him to panic, almost stop breathing. Skinner quickly took a position behind his pet, held him steady against his legs, hands stroking his chest, his throat. "Breathe through your nose, Pet. Calmly. I'm right here. If you stay focused, you won't have any trouble. You can do this."

Krycek shook his head, eyes wild, throat working hard around the intrusion, muted sounds forced out.

"Hush, Pet. You can do this. That's right, you can."

It took a while but he finally got Krycek to accept the cock gag.

Now and then, he went over to check that his pet was indeed working on his chores for the day. He was pleased to see the dildo was slowly stretching his pet's anus though it was obvious from the tears that dripped off his pet's face that he wasn't very comfortable with the preparation for today's training.

He crouched next to his pet, hand gentle on his face as he slowly licked the small stream of tears off first one side then, turning his face, the other.

"Ah, Pet. How can something this salty taste so sweet?"

When he thought his pet had managed to insert a good half of the dildo in him, he changed the cock gag for a longer, larger one. Once more, he had to stay with his pet while he accepted the gag, calming him.

"Easy, Pet. Easy. You can do this. Think of the pleasure it will give me, to be accepted deep in your throat." He stroked the hair off his pet's face, dampened as it was with the sweat of his pet's efforts, his tears.

Skinner had promised that he would make his pet come from the evening's fisting, but he thought that some encouragement would not be out of bounds.

So, every time he passed by, he took the time to play with his pet's exposed body. By now, he knew that playing with his pet's nipples always produced a reaction in his cock. He also liked the one he got when he sucked on his pet's ear lobes, his tongue twisting in the valleys of his ear. And that his hips jerked when he stroked carefully up one thigh around, but not touching, his cock, then down the other thigh.

And his pet's cock was appreciative of the attention he was giving his pet's body. It had begun the day flaccid, but it was amazing what a little mechanism called the Gates of Hell could accomplish. Not that the rings made him hard, they just made it impossible for him to soften once he had gotten hard.

"Almost done here, Pet. How are you doing? Excellent!" The dildo was almost completely in, his pet's thigh muscles quivering, his ass barely an inch off the floor. He praised his pet, caressing his face, his body, leaning over and placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Now I think it's necessary for you to keep that dildo in you until this evening." He went to one of the newly set up shelves, took down the strap that he had used to keep the shocking butt plug in his pet's ass and set it up to do the same with the dildo.

Then he removed the cock gag, the brace and gently massaged his pet's jaw points until he could close his mouth. He let his pet rest his head against his shoulder, smoothing back the long hair,

"I think I know what I want to do with your hair, Pet. Into the bathroom. Yes, I know it's going to be very uncomfortable getting there, but I expect to find you there when I come back. So far," he held his pet's face between his hands, "you've pleased me greatly with your behaviour. Don't make me punish you, Pet."

So, he really wasn't surprised to find his pet in the bathroom when he returned. And he had given him more than ample time to make his way over in spite of the massive dildo he carried in him.

He leaned his pet over the side of the tub, washed his hair, carefully massaging his scalp until he felt some of the tension leave his pet's body. Good. He didn't want him too tensed for tonight's fisting.

While his hair was still wet, Skinner had his pet kneel up between his legs, back to him. With a long-tailed comb, Skinner methodically separated his pet's hair and, tip of tongue sticking out from between his lips, he french-braided his pet's hair as his wife had taught him to do when she had worn her hair long. It was a style that took all the hair off his pet's face, that confined it so that it wouldn't get in the way, that gave him some kind of grip if he wanted to get a good hold on his pet's head.

When he was done, he had his pet move out to the wall by the closet, had him sit so that he could rest his back against the wall and there, left him restrained while he went to prepare something light for his pet's afternoon meal, his last one before the fisting.

###

Krycek lay on his back, his ass on the edge of the table that Skinner had moved from the office, wary eyes never leaving his master's face.

Skinner chained his collar snugly, but not tightly, to both sides of the table. He passed a caressing hand over his pet's face, knowing he was bracing himself, remembering the pain of that first fisting.

He released the spreader, gently massaged the skin where the restraints had been, stretched the leg out and restrained that ankle to the floor then went to work on the other leg. He massaged out the tension in the muscles, not wanting a cramp to interrupt the evening's activity. He wasn't reluctant to use his fingertips, his mouth to bring pleasure to his pet's preparation.

When he was satisfied, he folded the leg at the knee and, using soft clothesline cord, he tied the lower leg to the upper with a series of knots. Then he folded the bound leg back at the thigh and brought it down to the side of his pet's body, attaching it to a near-by edge of the table with another piece of softened cord. He bent and kissed his pet's trembling mouth, hoping to reassure him. Then he went and dealt with the second leg as he had the first.

His pet lay, legs folded and bound back, genitals exposed, hips raised so that his ass was completely off the table, his weight centred in his chest.

Skinner knew that the position was putting a great deal of pressure on the dildo in his pet's body but it would be still a while before he took steps to remove it. He slipped a small pillow under his pet's hips, to ease the strain on his back.

Now then, to arouse his pet.

Not a hardship, he thought as his mouth sucked and nibbled its way up an exposed thigh. He passed his closed mouth back and forth over the head of his pet's cock, his lips rubbing the tip, making it weep.

His pet's gasps, whimpers, pleas were a combination of his discomfort, his fear, his expectations. His arousal.

"Is there anything sweeter, Pet, than the smell of your arousal?" He took the head gently between his teeth, rubbed his tongue against the sensitive glans. His pet's hips tried to rise up as he cried out.

Skinner smiled, but decided that this wasn't enough. His pet needed to be far more prepared.

He leaned over from between his pet's legs, braced himself with his hands on either side of his pet's body and took one of those so sensitive nipples in his mouth. He teased it, tugged on its rings, bit, sucked until he no longer heard the fear in his pet's cries.

Once he had dealt with the other nipple, he moved, using his hands to shape the body that writhed in its bonds beneath his, arousing it even further.

When his pet's pleas were so unintelligible that Skinner couldn't make out the words, or even if those sounds were supposed to be words, he pulled away from his pet's body. He stripped off all his clothes, pulled on a long-to-the-shoulder latex glove and placed the bottle of lube by his pet's raised ass.

First, the dildo had to come out. Skinner removed the strap that had held it in place all day and carefully eased it out of his pet's ass. His pet screamed his relief.

After checking that his pet's anal canal hadn't been damaged, Skinner generously lubed his gloved hand and, tucking his thumb into his palm, fitted his fingers into his pet's open hole.

The dildo had done its job well. Apart from a slight twisting movement necessary for entry, his closed fingers went in smoothly. He took his time fitting in his palm which stretched out even more the already stretched muscle. Then, with just a bit more effort, he pushed in past his wrist.

He gave his gasping pet the time he needed to get used to the feel of his hand within his body before he pushed in further. Then, carefully, he made a fist deep in the heat of his pet's body, rotated it, making certain that he put pressure on his pet's prostate so that sounds of unexpected pleasure mixed with those of his discomfort.

That first time, thought Skinner, as he waited while his pet adjusted to the pressure of his Master's fist against his anal walls, he had felt a certain vindication at his pet's pain. This time, his hand deep in his pet's body, watching him cope with that, Skinner was overwhelmed with the feeling of ownership he had over this, his pet's body. That this body was his to do with as he pleased. As he desired. That his pet was finally beginning not only to accept his right of possession, but to submit to it.

He looked down at the place where his arm was joined to his pet's body and felt immense satisfaction. His untouched cock was throbbing, rock hard at the mere sight. At his Mastery.

Jesus, yes! This was the way it was meant to be!

Enthraled by this realization, Skinner reached over and released the cock ring his pet wore, bent and took him into his mouth.

The arm in his body kept Krycek from pumping his hips into the wet heat of his Master's mouth. Not that it mattered. His Master concentrated his efforts on the cock in his mouth, taunting his Pet, bringing him to the border of sanity and frustration, all the while his arm and hand slowly made their way out of his body.

When Skinner had his wrist resting on the open muscle of his pet's anus, he sucked hard, sending his pet hard over the edge from the combination of pain and pleasure. Then, with one quick gesture, he pulled his hand out. He looked up in time to see his pet's eyes roll back in his head at the force of his orgasm.

The sight was enough to send him over the edge. With a loud shout, Skinner came.

By the time his pet regained his senses, Skinner had cleaned him off but left him tied as he was. He rested his weight carefully on his elbows and arms to either side of his pet's chest, his hips rubbing against his pet's groin. With his mouth, he played with his pet's ear, whispering into it until his pet began answering him. Then he started over again.

"Who is your Master, Pet?" He gave a lick to the inside whorl of his pet's ear.

"You are, Master." His pet's tired whisper was rough, as though his throat was now protesting all the screaming it had done tonight.

"Who trains you, Pet?" He kissed his pet's throat, sucking slightly on the adam's apple.

"You do, Master."

"Who punishes you, Pet?" He nipped the side of his jaw.

His pet's eyes opened with difficulty. Skinner was pleased to see fear mingled with the satiation. "You do, Master."

"Who rewards you, Pet?" He licked the small mark away.

"You do, Master."

"Who brings you pleasure, Pet?" He looked into his pet's eyes.

"You do, Master." His pet's sated tone confirmed it.

Skinner raised himself up onto his hands, removing his weight from his pet's chest, still holding onto his eyes.

"Why can I do all this, Pet? The training, the punishment, the rewards, the pleasure."

Krycek said nothing for a good minute, eyes holding his master's, who patiently waited. When he spoke, with subdued acceptance, Skinner knew that they had moved on, one more step.

"Because you own me, Master. Because I belong to you."


Chapter Eight—In Which Evil Enters the Picture


The next day, Skinner was aware that his pet's eyes followed him everywhere they could. Not with fear, still not with the trust he found he wanted to see in them. But almost with fascination.

He was kind to his pet.

He knew that, though his anus had shrunk back to the norm, that the muscles had been stretched and that his pet would be particularly tender for some time.

But that didn't mean that there was to be no training, just that he had to take his pet's condition into account.

And there was a football game that he wanted to watch.

His pet spent the morning with him in the office, providing him with distraction whenever he looked up from yet another of those damn reports. This time, he had had his pet climb up onto the cleared desk, lay on his back so that his nipples, his genitals were right at hand.

Once he watched as a wave of goosebumps seemed to cover his pet's naked flesh.

"Cold, Pet?"

"N...no, Master."

But Skinner noted the trembling and smiled to himself.

"Master?" Skinner was attracted by the uncertainty in his pet's voice. "Please. I...think I'm going to come."

Skinner looked up. His pet wore an expression of controlled arousal that made him want to drive it over the edge. However, Skinner shrugged slightly, if he gave in, there was a good chance that the reports stacked by his pet's body might end up smelling of come.

Wouldn't do.

He pinched the glans tightly, making his pet gasp, and reluctantly moved his hand away until his pet cooled down enough for him to begin again. He supposed he could ring his pet's cock, but he rather liked hearing his pet's voice timorously informing him of an impending orgasm.

By lunchtime, he found he was as hard as his pet. Ignoring the erection that was burning a hole in his sweat pants and the oblique looks his pet was giving the bulge, he went to the kitchen to see about getting something to eat.

His pet dutifully preceded him, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, ringed balls swinging against his parted thighs, as he shuffled into the kitchen. Skinner wanted to concentrate on what to prepare for lunch. Instead his eyes kept straying to the swollen, purplish cock head and the look of controlled suffering on his kneeling pet's face.

He paused by a high-backed wooden chair and grasped his pet's chin, tipping his face upward. As always, the eyes were a giveaway. No matter how his pet struggled to control his features, his feelings always showed with crystal clarity in his eyes. There in the still, green gaze he could read his pet's smouldering hunger. Answering his own.

Beckoning.

It would be entirely unreasonable to deny himself this pleasure, when it was clearly what his pet wanted. What he wanted.

A motion of his hand indicated where he wanted his pet positioned, shoulders braced against the seat of the chair, buttocks thrust out, assorted weights swinging freely from nipple and scrotum.

Skinner ran his hands down his pet's back. The skin was still slightly moist, the sheen of sweat he'd worked up earlier, still not quite dry. Trailing fingertips down the cobbled trail of vertebra and into the crease between the firm globes of his pet's ass, he took hold of the base of the slender plug buried there and gave it a forceful half-twist.

The gasp and throaty moan that followed were quite rewarding. It took only a moment to kneel, to push his sweat pants down his thighs and release the greedy, blunt truncheon of his cock to rub against the luscious cheeks.

The power of his movements pushed them both forward, the legs of the chair grating along the tile of the floor. Groaning, effortful, he thrust against the slick, sweat dampened flesh over and over again. His pet answered his groans with soft whimpers of frustration, hips circling and pushing backward in response.

It took little time before his long denied climax overwhelmed him. In the fraction of a second before the rush of orgasm erupted from his tightened balls, Skinner pulled away from the shuddering body of his pet. He watched, fascinated as the pulsing stream of semen settled in glistening loops on his pet's back.

Scooping his come onto one broad palm, Skinner settled his chest against the trembling back again, bringing his hand up to his pet's panting mouth.

"Clean it off, Pet." The instant response was gratifying, his spent cock pulsing with aftershocks as the pink tongue greedily licked the surface of his hand.

It was impossible to ignore the condition he'd left his pet in. The quivering making itself felt through his chest continued, even after his palm had been wiped clean. Leaning over his pet's shoulder and bending his head to the side, Skinner studied the gasping mouth and tightly closed eyes, as his pet struggled to regain some composure. The most damning evidence of all was the drops of moisture falling in a steady dribble from the deep red glans of his pet's cock, unbelievably even more swollen than it had been while he'd played with it earlier.

Curious, he stroked a finger down the length of it, tracing a blueish vein that strained the skin. A gasp answered his touch.

"Master!" Poor pet, his voice was even more hoarse, more anxious than usual. "Please, Master. I'm going to come."

His hand teasingly stroked a trembling thigh.

His pet flinched. "Master?" he whimpered, almost in tears. "Please, Master. I'll come..."

Skinner chuckled. His pet was desperate, straining to hold on. Skinner knew that Krycek was worried about punishment for coming without permission. While it would be enjoyable to deny him, Skinner was feeling generous and pleasantly relaxed. He pulled his pet up against him. Pushing the long hair away from his pet's ear, he whispered into it softly, "Come for me, Pet. Let me see you come." Then he reached out with his tongue and traced the inner curve of his ear.

One hand slipped down to pull on his pet's cock, the other descended to lightly hold his pet's aching balls as, to the accompaniment of an intense scream, they spasmed in explosion. In a truly impressive display, they shot with such force the stream arched over the seat of the chair, landing on the floor.

Of course, Skinner had him clean up the floor where it had landed, licking the tiles shiny clean before feeding him. Had him clean off the chair too, where splashes of his precome decorated the seat.

That afternoon, he set up several snacks by the couch, made himself comfortable after confining his pet on his back on the couch. Skinner sat, with his pet's ass propped up on his lap, his pet's feet resting on the armrest.

"Do you like football, Pet?" His pet hesitated in answering. Skinner smiled down at him. "It's a question without repercussions, Pet."

"No, Master, not really."

"Is it just football you don't like or does this opinion of yours cover all sports?" Skinner lightly stroked the inside of a thigh while he waited for his pet to drum up his courage to answer.

"Most sports, Master."

Skinner raised the warmth in his smile up a notch or two. "Are there any you like at all?" He kept his tone casual, not wanting to frighten his pet. He was surprised to find himself truly interested in his pet's answer.

"Y..yes, Master."

Skinner waited for his pet to continue.

"Hockey, Master, and soccer."

Skinner nodded. "Hockey season's been pretty boring so far. As for soccer, you'll have to instruct me on the finesse of that sport. In return, I'll explain the intricacies of football to you, shall I?"

Obviously stunned, his pet managed, "Thank you, Master."

And then, eyes on the game, Skinner absent-mindedly played with his pet's body, concentrating on his genitals, as he explained the action taking place on the screen. "Remember," he suddenly interjected during a commercial, "warn me when you're about to come."

Which his pet obediently did.

Only this time, Skinner allowed him to come. He wiped up the creamy substance from his pet's body, had him lick his hand clean. And then brought him to orgasm again during the second half. This time, the clean-up took longer as his pet was definitely drowsy.

Skinner smiled as he watched a pink tongue slowly lick the come off his palm, as sleepy green eyes fought to stay open.

Finally, he took pity on his pet and, moving up so that his pet's head rested against his thighs, allowed him to drift off into sleep.

During replays of replays, Skinner found himself examining the face that now lay snuggled on his lap. He gently smoothed some of the hair off it, skimmed caresses over the fine-boned features.

And refused to examine the emotions rising up in him.

###

Those emotions died during the days that followed.

Not his pet's fault.

After a week in which he and his people thought they had finally made headway, that their work was finally going to be acknowledged, that their recommendations were going to be seriously considered, consensus on the Upper Floor underwent yet another swing. Events at Headquarters were developing a surreal aspect.

Men who had been responsible for reprehensible actions were either found dead of unknown causes in their cells or were offering to make the most incredible deals to save their necks.

The first irritated Skinner. He hated the sloppiness that was responsible for the deaths even being able to occur.

The second made him livid. Especially when it became obvious that certain members of the Consortium, and their once highly- placed cohorts, had enough pull to work out very comfortable arrangements within the penal system: colour television with cable access, cell-phoned flunkies at hand, catered meals.

And one or two had powerful enough connections to be dealing only with the top representatives of the Justice Department, the FBI, the CIA, reminding them of the precautions they had taken to assure their own security, no matter which side won.

And, once more, Skinner and his team were deemed responsible for all the turmoil that now dominated so many institutions, institutions that were not used to having their dirty linen exposed to the public, that were pulling all strings possible to ensure that it wouldn't be.

Not only was Skinner once again having to defend his people and the decisions they had taken, but he was faced more and more with the knowledge that if they could get away with it, those who had tried to sell his country into slavery would walk away scot-free with the approval of his government's power brokers. Meanwhile, he and his people were facing the reality of letters of censure in their personnel files, of other disciplinary actions.

He brought his resentment, his bitterness, his frustrations, his rage home with him, and his pet no longer wondered how his evenings were going to be: he knew they would be hard.

Skinner realized that any groundwork he had established between his pet and himself over the last weeks was gone, but he couldn't help himself. His reactions to the proceedings, to the back-room deals overwhelmed him. His pet watched him come through the door of his room, eyes braced for whatever pain he would endure at Skinner's hands.

He didn't even offer token protests, nor begged: Skinner was now very vocal during the time spent with his pet as to the situation he was battling every day. And of his Master's opinion that if Krycek had gotten that information to them earlier, things might have been different.

Skinner marked his pet again, breaking the skin on five of the nine strokes. The shocking butt plug had another workout. Another night, Skinner came home almost irrational and his pet's ass and back bore the crisscrossed welts of his belt. He left him in position for the nights as well as the days. Skinner had returned to the early days of his pet's training and knew that his pet had gone back there as well.

The night he came home late to find his pet sleeping in position, crying in his sleep, he knew that he had gone too far. If he didn't get himself under control, he was going to kill his pet.

He reached over to wake his pet, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

"No, please, Spender! Please! I beg you! Let me out! Oh, god! Please, I can't breathe! Don't bury me alive, please, I'll do what you want. I swear. Don't leave me here to die! I'll do anything! Spen...der!!"

Stunned, Skinner jerked his hand back, letting his shuddering pet slip back into his nightmare.

Unable to deal right then and there with what his pet had revealed, Skinner put his feelings on hold, left the room, went into his bedroom, showered until the water ran cold. He prepared a light meal, brought it up to his pet who was now awake, waiting for him in terror and resignation.

Skinner released his pet, massaged cramped muscles that reacted slowly to his ministrations. With a warm wash cloth, he cleaned his pet's face. When the trembling started, he took him in his arms, held him until the tremors eased.

He wanted to apologize to his pet, but couldn't bring himself to say the words. He had used them too often at work, pointlessly hoping that they would ease the pressure and the blame on his department. He hoped his actions would be enough.

He helped his pet into the bathroom, cleaned him, put ointment on the cuts and bruises that littered his pet's body. He fed him, all the while caressing him as if his touch might transmit his own feelings to his pet. Then he brought him over to his mat, settled him for the night.

As a last means of apology, he removed the spreader for the night, not bothering to fetter his pet's ankles.

He was at the door when he heard a timid, "Master?"

Skinner stilled in the doorway. He didn't want to respond. The voice had been so faint he could pretend he hadn't heard it.

"Yes, Pet."

"Th...Thank you, Master."

Skinner wondered what his pet was actually thanking him for. For not punishing him tonight or for the mat?

"Go to sleep, Pet." And he closed the door behind him.

###

It was unfortunate that the telephone woke him the next morning, with news that made him see red.

He tried to contain his reaction, thought he had managed it well until he went into his pet's room for the morning rituals and found him asleep, on his back, legs together.

His pet's screams filled the apartment as Skinner grabbed him by the balls and dragged him off his mat.

When his pet finally choked, his screams fading for the lack of breath, Skinner snapped, "I told you right at the beginning, Pet, that I was never to find your knees together. That your genitals were to be open to me at all times. Is this how you thank my leniency? By ignoring my wishes? When I'm through punishing you, you will remember. Believe me, Pet, you will remember."

When he closed the door behind him to go to Headquarters, his pet was in position. Some of the heavier weights hung from both sets of nipple rings. His cock was tightly chained to the navel ring. More weights hung from his balls. The spreader was back in place. The largest of the cock gags kept his mouth painfully open. His hand was tightly manacled to the waist belt. He wore one of the larger dildos in his ass, with orders to keep it there until his Master removed it himself.

And he was hooded.

###

It was late when Skinner opened the door to his apartment. He was exhausted from dealing with the fallout of the Director's participation in the deal that had set four of the top remaining members of the Consortium free.

Once more, his department was being used as a scapegoat. After hours of protest on his part, of being mocked, chastised, ignored, he felt empty.

And he knew that he had overreacted in the morning to his pet's disobedience. That he would have to deal with that, too.

Then the entry lights came on, seemingly by themselves.

"Do come in, Assistant Director Skinner."

Skinner froze in the process of removing his keys from the front door. He had been too tired to smell it before, but now the stench of cigarette smoke seemed to envelop him.

He forced his expression to remain neutral though he couldn't do anything about the way his stomach bucked. Hiding his shock, Skinner entered, tossed his keys into the bowl as he did every night. Placed his briefcase on the floor by the table and turned to face the man he had fought so hard to keep imprisoned.

Spender sat, at the bottom of the steps, in an armchair that had been taken from the living room. Two men, weapons pointed at Skinner, stood to either side of the chair. At Spender's feet, in position, was Krycek. Hoodless, face to the floor.

"Look up, Alex. Your master is home."

Krycek didn't move at first. Spender nudged him with a foot. Krycek raised his head.

Skinner saw that he was still gagged. Still decorated.

Spender tossed something in his hand and Skinner realized that it was the dildo that he had left in his pet's ass.

"Imagine my surprise when I came here to surprise you, Assistant Director, to find that you had something that belongs to me."

Krycek let his head drop to the floor.

Spender nudged him again. "Face up, Alex. I want you to watch." He smiled at Skinner as Krycek obeyed. "He listens well, don't you find?"

Skinner ignored the comment as well as the eyes staring up at him, blanked of all emotion.

"He belongs to me." Skinner spoke as though he didn't expect to be challenged.

Spender smiled through the smoke curling up from his cigarette. "Ah, but that, I think, is debateable.

"You see, Skinner, I came here expecting to have to beat out of you the whereabouts of the man who betrayed us, only to find him, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, just waiting for me. And in the most interesting of rooms.

"All this time, I thought my little Alex was sitting somewhere on a beach, enjoying the sunshine, living off his ill-gotten gains. Or dead. Personally, I was hoping for the former, just so I could watch him die. Instead, it seems that Alex has entered a new scene and I am amazed to find that you, Assistant Director Skinner, are the one who is claiming ownership of him.

"Rather ironic when I think of all the expense and trouble we went to, to find a way of controlling you and, all the time, there it was, under our very noses. You should have said something, Skinner. I can assure you, we would certainly have accommodated your little kink." His foot nudged Krycek again as he grinned his gargoyle smile.

Skinner said nothing, merely watched the smoking man for any gesture that would have him going for his gun. Even if Spender's thugs thought he was a sitting duck, Spender himself should be smart enough to know that he wasn't going to go down without trying to take at least one of them with him.

Spender exhaled a long plume of smoke. "You know, Assistant Director, it seems to me that we do have a little problem here."

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "A little one?" he mocked. He was pleased with the cool tone of his voice. That days of dealing with Upper-Echelon-types had had some positive effect.

"Yes. You see, you were later than expected getting here and I do have to be elsewhere in a matter of...well, shall we say minutes? Now then, you say that Alex here belongs to you but I too have a claim on him." Spender checked his watch. "I think we just have enough time to resolve ownership."

Skinner stated bluntly, "He belongs to me."

"Well," Spender handed his cigarette butt to one of his lackeys who put it out against the wall, pulled out a pack from his jacket pocket and lit another cigarette, "I suppose you're working on the principle: finders keepers?" He smiled. "There's an easier resolution to this matter. One which I will stand by if you also agree to it."

"Which is?"

Spender looked at the tip of his cigarette. "We let Alex choose who owns him. Like they do in those kiddie movies. You know the ones I mean. Where the lost dog gets to choose between Timmy or Jimmy."

"And how do we do that?"

Spender smiled again. Skinner felt a frisson of something he really didn't understand: there was more to this than met the eye—after all, this was Spender he was dealing with—but what?

"Why, the way they do it in the movies. We each get to call him to us. If he goes to you, he belongs to you. If he stays here, then he's mine by default."

Skinner wanted to ask why not just ungag Krycek and ask him, but something about the guns aimed at him, the barely controlled smirks on the faces of the thugs made him give a slight nod in agreement.

"Good. Alex. You know what you have to do. And since I am on a schedule, you have only until I have finished this cigarette to decide which of us you choose to be your master."

Krycek dropped his face to the floor. Skinner felt the tension in the room rise, not knowing why, knowing only that there was something he wasn't getting.

As Krycek slowly inched his way across the entry floor, Spender watched as though anticipating something which, once more, Skinner could not divine.

Skinner had to admit that he felt a deep sense of satisfaction when Krycek moved the extra bit that brought him close, when he then rested his face on Skinner's shoe. He wasn't all that successful in keeping his desire to gloat off his face when he looked up at Spender. One small victory in a sea of loses, of humiliations.

"Well," Spender filled the air with another plume as he lit a new cigarette, "that seems to be that. Gentlemen, it's time for us to go. We seem to be 'de trop' for this sentimental moment."

And with that, Spender, followed by his men, left.

Except that on the way out, the last of them turned, looked at Krycek then Skinner and snickered before closing the door.

Skinner quickly locked the door behind him. Went into the kitchen, came back with a chair that he jammed firmly under the knob.

Only then did he take a deep breath and release it noisily.

Only then did he notice that, although he was trembling, his pet hadn't moved.

Skinner crouched by his pet, raised his face. His pet resisted past a certain level. Damn, thought Skinner, he was too tired for this. But remembering his own unease at the situation, as well as how he had treated his pet that morning, he didn't insist. He reached and removed the gag, massaging his pet's jaw so that he could close his mouth.

"Pet," he kept his voice calm, "what am I missing? Why did they leave so easily?"

Krycek's voice was so dry that he barely got the words out. "Because I'm dead."

Skinner stilled his hand on his pet's face. "How are you dead?"

Krycek rested his forehead against his Master's hand, actually managed a travesty of a laugh. "They took the dildo out and slipped a plam into me."

Skinner lay a hand on his pet's head, gently caressed it. "I don't understand. What exactly is a plam, Pet?"

"It's a cylindrical tube that hides a quick release blade. The only way to kill a morph is to insert it in the back of its neck."

Skinner closed his eyes but not his imagination. "How much pressure does it need to release?"

"Not much. Just some to the base."

"And they put that in your ass."

"They pulled out the dildo and dropped it in while my ass was still open."

"How long is the blade?"

"About six inches."

"Sharp?"

"It's a spike. Like an ice pick."

"I take it a cock banging against the base would release the blade?"

"Yes."

"And moving as you did, coming up to me, that too could release it?"

"It could have." He made a noise that might have been a sob. "I'm sure Spender was disappointed it didn't."

Skinner said nothing, just continued stroking his pet's head.

"Pet, why did you choose me?"

Krycek made a small sound. "Because I hoped," he spoke slowly, in a voice totally devoid of hope, "that you might find it in yourself to make it an easier death. Master."

Skinner looked down at his pet. "You've seen someone die this way."

Krycek whispered, "Yes, Master."

Skinner was silent for some time. His hands kept on stroking the head and shoulder of the man waiting for death to strike him.

"Pet. This base that has to be activated. How thick is it?"

Krycek seemed to be far away. Skinner had to repeat his question. "The base?" His voice was groggy. "About a quarter of an inch."

"And the sheath? How long is it?"

Krycek forced himself to think. "About seven inches in all, Master."

Skinner bent and placed a kiss on the back of his pet's head. "Pet. I want you to hold very still. Not to move. Can you do that? Go into yourself, the way you do in submission, and remember that I want you to hold still? Not to move, no matter how I touch you? Can you do that, Pet?"

"Not move, Master?"

"Yes, Pet. Completely still. For me. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Close your eyes and find that safe place in yourself. Do you need me to blindfold you?"

"No, Master."

"Good. I'm going to leave you alone while I get a few things. Remember, Pet, you're not to move."

Skinner waited until his pet's breath calmed, until he knew that his pet would obey his wishes.

Then he went and collected the items he needed.

He moved a couple of the floor lamps into the entry, brought in the short foot stool from the kitchen, a remnant of his married days. Then he went upstairs, came back with a variety of items which he set up on the seat of another of the kitchen chairs.

Skinner looked around. This was as good as it was going to get. He held out his hands in front of him, approved of their steadiness. He was always calm just before the battle. And this was a battle. A battle for his pet's life.

He sat on the stool, dragging it so that he was between his pet's feet, his ass at hand. He checked his supplies once more, not certain they would do the job, but they were the best he had. Finally, before he began, he removed his weapon from his belt, took it out of its holster. Without thinking about what it represented, he attached a silencer to the barrel, placed the gun close by on the floor, at hand if needed.

The speculum he used was a short stubby one, designed to open just the anal muscle. Which he did, widely, holding his breath all the while. By the light of a flashlight, he found the small reflection of something wet and silvered.

Skinner put his emotions on hold: they would be dealt with later. Now he focused his attention on that small silver disc.

The rubber-tip forceps that came apart were a new toy. He separated the blades, lubed them and carefully, not daring to think, inserted the first one in, millimetre by millimetre, pressing against the wall of the anal canal, thankful that he had remembered, even in his anger, to lube the dildo generously that morning.

Eventually he had the blade placed so that the tip was beyond the base, resting further up the tube.

He repeated the procedure with the second blade.

Then, carefully, he took one of the handles in each hand, exerted pressure against the tube and slowly, barely breathing, pulled the tube out.

He held his breath those last two inches, passing the speculum mouth.

The cylinder was as his pet had said, a little longer than six inches in length. He passed his thumb along the base, putting very little pressure on it. The blade sprang out.

Skinner looked at it, feeling an incredible anger rise in him. Cold, rather than hot. The blade would have penetrated his pet's intestinal wall, lacerating anything in its reach. If he didn't bleed to death, infection from the intestinal tract would have assured a slow death. Not that it would have mattered: any kind of movement would guarantee additional cutting, the blade was that sharp.

And his pet had come to him, knowing full well what could have happened at any movement.

He left his stool, crouched by his pet's head. "Pet. I want you to come back now. To me. Pet."

He stroked his pet's head, a little roughly, trying to get his attention. Letting go of some of the fear he had ignored these past minutes.

"Pet! Come back to me. Now!"

Krycek began responding to the tone. He was slow to come out of submission. He did so to Skinner's hand caressing his face.

"Look at me, Pet. Let me see your eyes. Come on, Pet. Do you see this?" He held the stiletto in his hand, showing it to his pet who, though his eyes were open, wasn't seeing.

Skinner made his voice strict. "Alex! Pay attention! Look at me!"

And he did.

He looked at his Master as though not understanding anything. Skinner found himself wondering if he had won this battle only to lose his pet to insanity.

He softened his voice. "It's out, Alex. See. Out. It's not going to cut you. You're not going to die. See, Pet. See."

Krycek's eyes turned to focus on what Skinner held in his hand. He looked up, eyes questioning. Skinner smiled at him, a silly, stupid smile of victory. "Out, Alex. It's out."

Krycek rested his forehead on the floor. For a moment, Skinner thought he was refusing to believe him. Then the sob broke out and Skinner watched as his pet's body shook from the tension it had been under, the fear.

Without thinking, he pulled his pet into his arms and held him tight, rocking him as his pet sobbed his relief.

For however long it took, Skinner held the trembling head to his shoulder, passed his cheek along the top of it, crooning nonsense. "Hush, it's over. It's over."

His pet's body lay, finally silent, slackly against his. Skinner continued holding him, his hands now rubbing some warmth into the cold flesh.

At length, Skinner pulled back, examining the tear-ravaged face. "I want you to go upstairs, Pet. Wait for me by your door. Do you understand me?"

Krycek nodded. He turned to do as he had been ordered when he saw the silenced weapon on the floor. He looked up into his Master's face, stunned. Before he could say anything, Skinner leaned over and pressed his mouth against his pet's pulsing temple. "Go up and wait for me."

Skinner waited until he knew that, though he was wobbly, his pet would make it up, then he cleaned up the entry.

He was in the kitchen when reaction hit him. His body refused to respond to his commands and he slipped to the floor. Skinner drew his knees up to his chest and concentrated on controlling his own shudders.

Krycek was waiting for him at the door to his room, in position, when Skinner made it up the stairs. Krycek was in a state that Skinner knew bordered on shock.

Skinner opened the door to his bedroom. "Pet." He waited until he had Krycek's attention. "In here, tonight, Pet."

Slowly, not knowing what would come, Krycek made his way into Skinner's bedroom.

"Shower first, I think, Pet."

Skinner looked down through the rain of water to his pet who was in position on the shower floor. He stooped and soaped off the smell of those who had touched him, his fear, his weeping. Just as gently he dried him, led him to the oversized bed Skinner slept in.

"Up."

Too over-tired even to confirm the order, Krycek managed to move his body onto the bed.

Skinner left his hand manacled to his belt but used one of his ties to attach his collar to the foot of the bed. "You'll sleep here tonight, Pet."

Krycek closed his eyes.

Skinner lay in bed, semi-propped so he could keep an eye on the twitchings of his pet.

And planned.


Chapter Nine—In Which Revenge Proves To Be a Dish Best Served Cold


The whimpering woke him up.

Skinner looked at the bottom of his bed, found his pet curled into as small a ball as he could make himself, body trembling as he worked his way through some nightmare.

Skinner made his way to the man begging "Please! Don't hurt me!" Please! Don't touch me like that!"

Writhing, trying to get away from hands, painful hands, touching him.

Skinner wondered whose they were?

Spender's?

Or his own?

He released his pet's collar, dragged him back up to beside him and tried to call him out of the nightmare. He held him close, stroking the head resting against his shoulder. It took time, even after his pet grew aware of his surroundings, to calm him but apart from soothing nonsensical sounds, Skinner said nothing.

He thought his pet had fallen back asleep when he spoke again, voice raw. "They'll be back."

Skinner caressed the back of his pet's head. "I'm counting on it."

Krycek looked up at him, unbelieving. "You're going to give me to them," he gasped. He shook his head back and forth. "You're...oh god!" Panicking, he tried to pull out of his Master's arms.

Skinner fought him for dominance. His pet's fear gave him the adrenaline rush needed to try and escape. He thought he was fighting for his life.

Finally, Skinner dropped his full weight onto his pet's body, holding him down on the bed, gripping his head between two large hands. Krycek was almost incoherent with fear.

"Stop it! Now, Pet. Or I'll be forced to punish you."

Krycek calmed enough to gasp, "You're going to give me to them to kill but first...you're going to punish me?" He screamed with a shrill laughter, out of control. Skinner heard his pet's struggle for sanity in his shrieks.

"That's enough!" he snapped. "Who owns you, Pet?" Then repeated, louder and with more enunciation, "Who...owns...you? Pet!? Who...Owns...You!"

The ritual caught his pet's attention. "You do," he sobbed. "Master." Then, suddenly, as though deflating, he quietened. "You own me. You can do with me as you please."

Skinner felt some discomfort at the despair in Krycek's voice. He continued. "Who trains you, Pet?"

"You do, Master."

"Who punishes you? Pet? Who punishes you?"

Krycek swallowed, gave in completely. "You do, Master." His voice was stripped bare of any emotion.

Skinner dropped his forehead to his pet's. "Who rewards you, Pet?"

Krycek opened his eyes. They looked dead to Skinner. "You do, Master."

"Who pleasures you, Pet? Who makes you come?"

"You do, Master."

"And who is the only one who can touch you, Pet?"

Krycek wasn't expecting anything new in the ritual. He looked confused. Skinner passed his mouth across Krycek's temple. "Who is the only one who touches you, Pet, no matter what the reason?"

"You, Master?"

"That's right, Pet. Me. And only me." Skinner placed his elbows on the bed, used them to support some of his weight. "Only I can touch you. I own you. By my choice. And, since tonight, fully by yours." He smoothed a lock of hair off his pet's face. "I am angry, Pet. Not at you," he hurried to add. "At them. They touched you and they do not have the right. Only I have the right to touch you. Whichever way I want. But only I.

"They need to be punished, Pet. For touching you. Because no one has the right to touch you except me. And, Pet, I will never allow anyone that right."

Krycek lay silent, absorbing. A deep frown line appeared between his eyebrows as he took in what his Master was saying. "They need to be punished?"

Skinner nodded.

"And...you will...punish them?"

Again a nod.

"Because...because they...touched me?"

"Because they touched you." He waited as his pet worked that out in his mind.

"Master," his pet offered, almost timidly, "no one...has ever been punished...for touching me."

"That may be true, Pet," Skinner countered, "but you never before had me as a Master. Have you, Pet?"

His pet's eyes were intent as they examined his face. Finally, something he saw there allowed his pet to let go some of his tension. "No, Master."

"So, Pet? Will you help me punish them?"

Krycek bit his lip. Eyes holding his Master's, he finally nodded. "If that is what my Master wishes."

Skinner smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It is." He raised himself off his pet, was reaching to settle him next to him for the rest of the night when, "Master? You said you would punish me when you came home tonight."

Skinner sat up and looked at the man waiting for his decision. His gaze went down to his pet's knees which were still separated by the spreader. "The purpose of punishment is so you will remember. I think that, after today, should I remove the spreader, you will have no trouble remembering to keep yourself open to me."

Krycek closed his eyes, nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Don't do that, Pet. I love your mouth. It's suffered enough abuse today."

Skinner settled his pet by his side, covered him with the blanket and wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. He felt his pet snuggle, seeking the comfort of his warmth.

"Pet?"

"Yes, Master."

"I owe you an apology." He felt his pet still completely.

"Apology, Master?" whispered his pet.

"Yes. I once told you that your mat was a place of safety. That there would never be training or punishment on it. This morning I broke that promise. I began punishing you while you were still on your mat. I apologize. I know that I also broke your trust this past week. And I'm sorry for that as well."

There was a long silence during which Skinner thought his pet had fallen asleep.

"It was because of Spender."

"Yes. Because no matter how hard we fought to take him out, we lost."

"He doesn't lose often, Master." Krycek snuggled a little closer and slipped into sleep.

###

The fear was still there in the morning, barely under control.

Skinner made his pet go through the morning rituals, hoping that the routine would help him regain some sense of security. Because, before the morning was over, he was going to have to test that feeling to its present limits, and probably beyond.

He fed his pet in the kitchen after he'd called his office and informed his PA that he was feeling ill, was going to make this a long weekend and sleep it off. He made some soft boiled eggs, buttered toast. He cut the toast in strips, dunked the ends into the hot yoke and fed them to his pet.

"Toast soldiers," whispered his pet, eyes still over-large in his pale face.

Skinner smiled. "Comfort food. When I was a kid, my grandmother always made me this breakfast whenever I was ill."

He sent his pet upstairs as he quickly cleaned up.

At the door to his room, Krycek looked up, eyes afraid. Skinner opened the door, nodded him in. This was going to be the first test of his pet's endurance this morning. He had no idea what had been done to his pet, said to him when he had been found, trussed, as Spender had said, like a Christmas turkey. They would deal with that later, when his plans had been put into effect.

His next test was to put him into position. But secured. He watched his pet fight the panic that rose in him as his Master chained his collar to the floor, his ankles, the spreader.

"Pet, I want you to take a deep breath. Now exhale. Good. Now listen to me. I have to go out for a while."

And braced himself against the terror he saw in his pet's face. He clamped a hand over his pet's mouth and held it there, all the while stroking him with the other, as though calming a terrified animal. "Listen to me. They won't come during the day. They won't. Too many chances of being seen. Besides, they're going to be watching to see what I do. I'll be back as quickly as I can, but I have to go get some things for their punishment. Can you handle that, Pet? Can you?"

He removed his hand from his pet's mouth, waited until his pet nodded. "Yes, Master." But his voice trembled.

"And I want to make sure that you're not open to them, Pet."

Skinner went to get the butt plug he had prepared. The plug was enclosed in a chain harness that could be locked at both ends to the waist belt his pet was wearing. Skinner slipped the lubed plug into his pet's ass, snapped the locks shut.

"Go into submission, Pet, if that's what you need. I'll be back as soon as possible."

He was gone just over an hour. Returned to find his pet muttering to himself under his breath. Skinner approached him carefully, afraid to find that he had saved his pet's life only to lose the fight for his mind.

Then Skinner heard what Krycek was muttering: some multiplication table. He was trying to remember what thirteen times sixty-nine was when he suddenly realised that he no longer was alone.

Skinner quickly sat next to him. Stroked his head as he released him, gathered him into his arms. "You're doing well, Pet. I'm so pleased with you."

Krycek rested his tear-streaked face against his Master's shoulder and wept quietly.

###

For the rest of the day, Krycek stayed either next to his Master or as close to him as he could possibly get. Skinner allowed it, knowing that his pet needed the assurance of his presence to feel secure. He hoped that after tonight, his pet would never again doubt that.

He spent the afternoon grooming his pet, rubbing lotion into his body, treating him to a massage, playing with him until his pet whispered, "Master, I think I'm going to come."

"Not until I tell you, Pet."

The familiar game seemed to soothe his pet. Besides, Skinner wanted him on the edge of arousal for another reason.

As the light outside waned, his pet often glanced nervously at the apartment door.

With reason.

###

The night sky was black, starless when the front door silently opened onto a darkened apartment, allowing two shadows in. The door silently closed behind them.

"Are you looking for me?"

They turned to see Krycek on the landing of the stairwell, illuminated by the faint light of an upstairs lamp, sitting back on his heels.

A small red dot appeared on the back of the head of one of the intruders. As his head shattered, another appeared on the face of the second.

Skinner stepped out of the shadows to scowl at the bodies that now littered his entry.

He checked with his pet. "Are you all right?"

Krycek nodded. "They're dead. You killed them," his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Skinner pulled out two of the old carpets he had purchased that morning at the Salvation Army Thrift Store.

"Because...for touching me?" Krycek's disbelief made Skinner nod reassuringly.

"They didn't have the right to touch you. You're mine. Only mine."

He efficiently rolled each of the bodies into one of the threadbare carpets, wrapped each again in a sheet of thick plastic, hauled the entire mass over to the large hand cart he had rented for the weekend.

"There," he said, as he straightened from loading the second carpet-wrapped body onto the cart.

Skinner grimaced at the blood and matter splattered over the wall of the entry. Oh, well, the apartment was due for a paint job anyway. He smiled up at his pet. "Two down, one to go."

Actually, Spender's arrival was almost anti-climatic. He eased opened the door, stepped in, fully expecting his men to be in control. Skinner was waiting for him behind the door. A downward movement and Spender lay on the floor, unconscious.

###

Skinner watched as Spender regained consciousness, slowly figured out the state he was in. He had to give the man credit: if he was afraid, he hid it well. Or it could just be that, having had his way in everything lately, he couldn't believe that he was the one now naked, gagged, trussed like a Christmas turkey, ass high in the air. On the table that Skinner used for his pet, bound as his pet had been when Spender and his thugs had entered the room.

With two exceptions. One was that his head was strapped down so that he had no choice but to look in Skinner's direction. The second, that instead of a dildo up his ass, Skinner had inserted the longest speculum he had.

Skinner leaned forward in the chair he had brought into his pet's room, stroked his hands up and down his pet's body. Krycek was kneeling between his legs, head thrown back as Skinner carefully brought him once more to the edge of orgasm.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Skinner smiled proudly at Spender. "And he is mine." Skinner dropped a kiss on his pet's head, hand snaking down his abdomen to play with the cock ring that denied his pet's orgasm. "And only mine."

Skinner looked back into Spender's eyes, eyes that were beginning to panic. Skinner's smile was heartlessly cold. "You touched him. You tried to kill him. For the touching alone your men paid with their lives.

"That surprises you? Really, Spender, considering what you did to me, how can you be surprised at what you turned me into? You played with my life, my mind. My spirit. My honour. I know you expected all that to make me roll over, offer my belly to you. But, guess what, Spender? If you hang around with bastards, there's a good chance that you'll become one, too.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to become like you. To side with you. To become a sorry son of a bitch like you. But here's something you didn't count on...I never do anything half-way. If I'm going to be an SOB, I'm going to be one mother- fucking SOB. Too bad you didn't consider that you might end up being mother."

Skinner slowly got up, stepped over his pet to the table. He crouched so that Spender could see what he had in his hand. "An interesting little toy." Skinner tossed the plam from hand to hand. "Let's see what you can do with it."

He rose, went to play with the speculum, opening it the widest it would go. Spender's screams were almost completely muted by the ball gag. With great care Skinner allowed the plam to drop into Spender's ass, then he partially closed the speculum and yanked it out, open as it was. Spender's shriek made it past the gag.

Skinner went back to crouch by Spender's face, noted with some satisfaction that his eyes, tearing with the pain of the speculum's removal, were wild with terror. "I see you understand. Fitting, isn't it, that what you had planned for my pet is going to happen to you."

Eyes holding Spender's frantic ones, Skinner called, "Here, Pet." Then, "No, back here, Pet."

Skinner stood behind his pet, reaching down, continuing to play with him until he was so aroused Skinner was willing to bet his pet was aware of only the hands on his body. Until he was weeping for release. "Yes, now it's time. Up on your feet, Pet." And saw fear overcome the arousal.

"Ma..Master?"

"Up on your feet, Pet."

"But...Master, you said I was never...not ever unless I wanted...Please, Master, you beat my feet the last time I.."

"Hush, Pet," Skinner held his distraught pet close to him, "this is an exception. I am giving you a specific command. There will never be punishment for following a specific command. Now," he held his pet's shoulders, giving him something to brace against as he found his feet. He held him close, caressing him until his pet was back to the point where the only thing that mattered was release. He rolled a condom over his pet's cock, then turned him around, aligned his cock with Spender's ass, unsnapped the cock ring.

"In you go, Pet. Come for me."

His pet's eyes opened, he hesitated.

Skinner placed himself right behind his pet, stroked his hands possessively down to his hips. His mouth worked its way from nape to the edge of his jaw. "I want to see your face as you come for me. Please me, my pet."

As Krycek pumped his hips back and forth, Spender's screams of terror suddenly became a long, continuous shriek of agony.

Skinner leaned over and kissed the side of his pet's jaw. "Beautiful," he crooned. "So very beautiful. And mine, all mine."

And held his pet as he came.

###

Hours later, in the darkest part of the night, Skinner looked at his pet, curled up at the bottom of his bed, sound asleep. He covered him, dropped a kiss onto the side of his head. "I'll be back soon," he whispered. Skinner smiled at the sleepy sound his pet made.

In his pet's room, Skinner released and ungagged the man whom he didn't even check to see if he were alive or dead. Any movement now would cause the blade open within him to inflict further damage. Already the lower abdomen had darkened with the accumulated blood as his last gesture, before leaving with his sated pet, had been to plug Spender's ass with a stopper.

He rolled the still warm body in the last of the carpets—coldly smiling at the small, muffled gasp of pain—then he rolled that in another sheet of plastic, hoisted it over his shoulder. Carefully, he made his way down the stairs to the cart.

He used the freight elevator to the garage, loaded up his car with its cargo and drove to an incinerator that he had once before had occasion to use.

###

His pet was waiting for him. The chain Skinner had added to the bed was long enough for him to kneel up.

"Master? Are you all right?"

Skinner slouched, shoulder against the door frame, smiled, a bit tiredly. "Yes, thank you, Pet."

"He's dead?"

Skinner nodded. "He'll never hurt anyone ever again." Then he said aloud what he had wondered about for some time. "He hurt you. And had you hurt."

His pet nodded. "He bought me when I was a kid. As a reward for his men when they pleased him. When I survived, he had me trained to kill though he still turned me over to his men if I displeased him. It...it didn't take much to displease him."

"If he had known the game you were playing, if he had caught you..."

"He would have ordered me killed, slowly. He liked to sit smoking while watching his orders carried out."

Skinner nodded in turn. The two of them looked at each other, bound by some unseen link.

Skinner sighed, cocked his head. "If I were a decent man, I would offer you your freedom right now."

The notion seemed to horrify Krycek, not please him. "Master? Please," he dropped to his heel position on the bed, face in the bedclothes, "please, Master. You said you wouldn't punish me for standing on my feet! That it was a direct order and that I was to obey!"

Skinner shoved himself away from the door, hurried over to sit by the man whose voice was edging toward hysteria. He tried to pull him into his arms, only to have Krycek bury his head in Skinner's lap, weeping desolately.

"Pet. Pet. Enough of that, Pet. Stop crying, you'll make yourself ill."

Between sobs, his pet gasped, "You're turning me out. Over to them. Please, Master, you said only you. Only you had the right to touch me. Please, don't give me to them. Please, Master. I beg you. Don't let them touch me!"

Skinner managed to grab hold of his pet's chin, forced his head up. The hopelessness in his pet's eyes reminded him too much of the night Spender had made him choose between two Masters.

He let himself fall backwards, taking his pet with him, holding him close, stroking his back with one hand as he held him with the other. "Hush, Pet, hush. I said if I were a decent man. But I'm not. You belong to me. Inside and out. To train properly as a good pet. To punish if need be. To pleasure as I see fit."

"I belong to you," begged his pet.

"You belong to me. Only to me. To do with as I please."

"You won't give me to them?"

Skinner rubbed his cheek against his pet's head. "Never. I protect what is mine."

His pet's tears slowed, his breath gradually stopped hitching. "You...you'll protect me, Master?"

Skinner raised his pet's face, slowly kissed the tears off the awed face. "You are mine. To train, to punish, to reward. To protect."

"Master?" Timorously whispered. "Will you always protect me?"

Skinner smiled his reassurance. "Always, Pet."

###

They slept for a while. Krycek woke to Skinner's hand gently playing with his hair, fingers carding through the length.

"Pet, I know that I really haven't earned the right to ask this, but will you trust me to do something?"

Krycek slowly sat up and back onto his heels. "You own..." he stopped, silently considered Skinner, then started over again. "I belong to you, Master," his voice was quiet, but firm, in his commitment. "You may do whatever it is you want with me."

Skinner could only nod, moved by his pet's unconditional surrender of control.

"Will you come with me, accept whatever it is I ask of you?"

Krycek nodded. "Yes, Master."

Skinner realized from the seriousness of the tone that his pet was reaffirming his acceptance of his Master's role in his life from that moment on.

He got off the bed, kissed his pet's mouth. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

But Krycek looked less certain when he entered his room. Skinner knew that the smell of antiseptic coming from the bathroom brought with it memories of a previous occasion.

Still, his pet followed him into the bathroom. Skinner helped him onto the toilet so he could urinate and then moved him into the tub. He chained the collar, his hand, his feet to the restraints. He removed the spreader, tossed it to the floor.

Krycek lay there, eyes staring at the ceiling, trying hard to ignore the bag of sterile solution that hung from the shower head.

"Try to relax, Pet. I promise, this won't be like the last time."

Carefully, Skinner inserted the catheter into his pet's penis.

He monitored his pet's discomfort constantly as he injected the sterile water down the tube into the anchoring balloon. This time he used far less of the water than he had that previous occasion.

When he released the clamp that allowed the water to flow into his pet's bladder, Skinner placed a hand lightly on his lower abdomen, gauging the procedure's progress.

His pet, he realized, hadn't made a sound. He looked up to find him watching his Master intently, lower lip caught under his upper teeth. Normally, Skinner would have chastised him for doing that. This time, he reached over and caressed the side of his face with his ungloved hand.

His pet hadn't questioned, hadn't protested. For his acceptance alone he was owed an explanation.

"I want to clean the touch of them off you, Pet. To eliminate their fingerprints off your skin. To wipe their scent off you. To make you completely clean for me.

"You belong to me, only to me. Inside as well as outside. No one else will ever again touch you. I want you to know only my hands on your skin, my body within yours.

"I want us to start over again, Pet. Clean slate. You chose me to be your Master. And I will be that. I will train you as you need to be, punish you if need be. I will reward you when you please me. Only I will make you come. Because only I have the right to touch you."

He saw Krycek's total acceptance in his face. "Only you, Master."

"Only me," he agreed.

Skinner felt the body he was touching lose some of its tension. He turned to check the contents of the bag. The last time he had ignored all the warnings about quantity: this time he would not.

His pet probably didn't trust him completely yet. He would prove to him that he could safely put his entire being in his hands and not be betrayed.

"Master?"

"Hmmm?"

"Master, when I no longer please you, will you then give me to someone else?"

Skinner carefully clamped off the flow of water and met his pet's apprehensive look straight on. "When you no longer please me? When the sight of you doesn't give me pleasure? When I no longer enjoy training you? Rewarding you? Watching you come?"

"Yes, Master." Krycek couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

Skinner cocked an eyebrow. It didn't take much to understand that his pet had far too much experience with being passed from one set of hands to another. Probably no matter what promises had been made to him. For a moment, he wished it had taken Spender longer to die. He answered his pet's fear. "Should that day ever come, no, I will not give you to anyone else. I've told you, Pet, no one else will ever again touch you."

"Then, please, Master, what will you do with me?"

Skinner reached over with his hand and soothed the frown of concentration that bridged his pet's eyebrows. "Should that day ever come...Though, to be honest, Pet, I truly doubt it...But should it, I will take you somewhere quiet and leave you with a gun and a bullet."

Krycek frowned again. "Master. Will you wait and bury me?"

Skinner nodded. "Yes, Pet. I'll wait and bury you. I promise."

His pet slowly relaxed against his Master's hands. "Thank you, Master."

###

While Krycek voided the water that cleaned out his bladder, Skinner prepared an enema for thorough cleansing. Then, when that was over, knowing that his pet's abdomen was tender from all that internal cleaning, Skinner turned on the faucets and filled the bath with water.

He allowed his pet to enjoy a long, relaxing soak before he picked up a face cloth and spent an incredible amount of time carefully washing every inch of his pet's body. And then a similar amount of time drying him off.

He finished off the bathing session by braiding his pet's hair, touching his pet's body, reclaiming possession of it.

He spent some time deciding on his pet's decorations, finally choosing some light weights for the smaller of his nipple rings, a gold chain linking the larger. He attached a short chain to the navel ring, the other end to the oval on his penis, so that the underside of his cock was displayed.

He carefully removed the five rings that had lowered his pet's balls, so that they now hung, slightly pendulous, and replaced them with a shorter gold-coloured cylinder that was heavier than the five rings combined.

Lastly, he lubed and gently inserted into his pet's ass a butt plug that was an inch shorter than the length of his cock when erect. "This way, you'll always be open for me."

Krycek looked up, eyes heavy with arousal from his Master's hands as they had decorated him.

"Always, Master," he agreed.

Skinner was at the door, waiting for his pet to precede him out of the room when his pet asked, "Master?"

Skinner turned. "Yes, Pet."

Krycek was sitting on his heels, looking anxious. "Master, you've forgotten..."

"Forgotten? What have I forgotten, Pet?"

"You took off the fetters and the spreader to wash me, Master. You've forgotten to put them back on."

Skinner nodded. "Well, while it's true that they're not on, it's not because I forgot. However, I am pleased that you felt you should remind me of them. I told you, Pet. We're starting anew. There is no reason right now to manacle you. As for the spreader, as I said, I think that lesson has been learnt. Come along, now. No, Pet. Not on your shoulders. From now on, you'll assume that position only if I tell you to heel. Your hand is free, use it. You don't have permission to walk on your feet, Pet. But you'll move more quickly if you crawl.

"Come along, now." And led the way to his room.

There, in his bathroom, he stripped, took a shower. He came out to find that his pet was waiting, not quite as he had left him. He was kneeling up, a towel now in his hand. Almost timidly, he offered it to his Master.

Skinner smiled, accepting that his pet was not as cowed as he might have been. It was a new beginning for both of them. "Thank you, Pet."

And then his pet took a rather daring chance, thought Skinner later.

As Skinner was rubbing the towel over his head, his pet moved between his legs and began licking the water off his balls.

Skinner hesitated for a breath, then continued drying himself off, allowing himself to evaluate the skill of his pet's mouth as it worked its way from his balls to his very appreciative cock.

Skinner spread his legs, allowing his pet more room to work in. With shy enthusiasm, eyes upraised, watchful of any disapproval, Krycek proved to his Master that there would be very little training to do in a certain department.

Skinner dropped his hands to his pet's head, just holding, not directing any of the action. When he came, he came deep in his pet's throat, his pet swallowing all but the come that dripped out of one side of his mouth. As he softened, Skinner pulled his hips back, watched with delight as his pet's tongue cleaned him off then, cat-like, licked as much of his Master's come off his own face as his tongue could reach.

"You've missed a bit, here," said Skinner as he stooped and licked a taste of himself off his pet's chin.

Krycek leaned his head against his Master's stomach. "This is permitted, Master?"

Skinner laughed. "A little late to be asking for permission now, Pet." He passed a teasing hand over his pet's face. "Why did you do that, Pet?"

His pet looked up, eyes relaxed. Skinner thought apart from when he was aroused, he had never seen his pet's eyes so beautiful. "Because it gave you pleasure, Master."

Skinner nodded. "Yes, it did do that. Now let's see how I can reward you."

On the bed, Skinner had his pet lay on his back. He noticed that without thinking his legs spread themselves wide, leaving him completely open to his Master's touch.

And touch Skinner did. His pet had endured much in these last days, had shown his Master trust when he really had no grounds to do so. As Skinner had said, they were starting anew and he wanted to solidify his ownership of his pet without his pet ruing his choice.

He began with soft words as his fingers played with his pet's face, his hair. Words telling him how beautiful he was. How impressed he had been with his pet's courage in the face of Spender and his men. How, in spite of everything, he had trusted his Master with his life. How proud his Master was with having him as his pet. How his Master would protect his pet, train him properly, punish him if need be. And that was as it should be.

When he passed his finger along his pet's lips, Krycek opened his mouth, sucked them in, treating them as he had his Master's cock.

"Oh, Pet. You are a wonder of delight!"

Skinner enjoyed the effects his words and touch were having on his pet. His eyes grew darker, lids heavier. His lips grew swollen, red from his Master's kisses. Skinner loved the sight of his pet, head thrown back, throat exposed, body tendoned, arched in his attempts to hold back his orgasm.

And the sounds. The small moans, the gasps as another part of his body grew sensitive to the hands and fingers of his Master. Sounds which set his own body to hardening, even though he had recently come.

Skinner lay on his side, head propped up on an elbow, playing with his pet's decorations when it suddenly struck him that this was more than sex he was engaging in. Certainly something more than the couplings he had had with his pet before now.

Maybe it was because he felt his pet's reactions were genuine. Were being elicited because it was his hands, his mouth touching him. That he fully participated in his body's responses.

It was not love. Not for either of them. But, thought Skinner, maybe that might yet come.

When Skinner removed the butt plug, slipped into his pet's body, his pet's hips eagerly rose to welcome him. Skinner had placed his pet's legs over his shoulders, wanting to see the expression on his pet's face as he worked himself into orgasm.

"Beautiful, Pet. So beautiful." And he took his pet's rampant cock into his hand, matched stroke for stroke and grimaced with a sense of victory as his pet screamed "Master!" as he came.

Revelling in his mastery of his pet, Skinner grabbed his pet's hips with both hands and held them still as he rocked himself to completion to the mantra of "Mine...Mine...Mine."


Chapter Ten—In Which a Master and His Pet Move On


Skinner looked over at the man sitting next to him in the front seat of the car and wondered if his pet was sulking. He had been reluctant to leave the apartment this morning—his first venture out of the condo since Skinner had claimed ownership of him—and now sat very quiet in his seat, eyes focused on the hand resting on his lap.

Skinner hoped, as he checked in the mirror and then moved into the outside lane to pass a truck, that his pet did not intend to ruin the first long weekend of the season with punishment.

He hadn't told his pet about this trip to his cabin until that morning. Until then, he hadn't been certain paperwork wouldn't demand that he spend the holiday catching up.

Things had changed in many government institutions, including the Bureau. Some of the most vociferous attacks on his department had come from men who, it turned out, had been trying to protect their own asses. The new Director, while not heaping accolades on them, had, at least, acknowledged their right in the matter. All references to censure had been removed from Skinner's file and from the files of his team. Still, several of them had decided that they could no longer trust their own people and had resigned, moving on to other things. Skinner knew it had been hoped that he would be one of these.

Unfortunately for them, he was too stubborn to quit.

This morning, after a quick analysis of what work absolutely needed doing, concluding that almost all of it could wait until the next working day, Skinner had brought his pet to the front door of the apartment. There, he had removed all his decorations, even the dog collar and the butt plug, and given him some clothes to put on. He had caught sight of his pet's stunned expression, his white face, but was in a hurry to get out of the apartment before the phone rang and he was called away to the office. He would deal with his pet when they arrived at the cabin.

But his pet had hesitated when ordered to get to his feet at the door, had walked very reluctantly to the elevator, from there to the car. Now he sat, almost withdrawn, huddled into himself.

Skinner spared him a glance as he wondered what had happened to the pet who had begun making advances to his Master, had occasionally softly protested not being allowed to come, had found ways to make his Master forget that some behaviour required punishment.

They were nearing the ramp that lead to the country road that took them to the cabin when Skinner realized that his pet was silently weeping.

Once he could, he found a quiet spot and pulled the car over. He turned off the engine and twisted in his seat so that he could face his pet. He rested his shoulders against the door and examined the weeping man.

"Would you like to tell me why you're crying, Pet?"

His pet didn't answer, only seemed to shrink more into himself.

"Pet?" Skinner used his about-to-lose-patience Master's voice.

His pet looked at his Master from under his hair. It took a couple of attempts before he whispered, pleading, "Please, Master, I'm sorry. Please, whatever it is I've done, punish me. Please, Master."

"Punish you?" Skinner controlled the urge to snap. He took a deep breath to calm himself. This wasn't usual behaviour from his pet. Something was wrong and he needed to find out what. "Apart from this behaviour, what have you done that needs punishing?"

"I...I don't know." His pet's breath coming in terrified gasps as he tried to control it. "Please, Master. I will do better. Tell me what I've done to displease you and I promise, I won't do it again. Please, Master, give me another chance."

Skinner didn't understand why his pet was begging this way. "Another chance to do what?" he snapped.

His pet shook his head, still softly weeping.

"Pet!" Skinner knew his patience was better these days, but it was nothing like it had once been. A far distance from that. And his pet was pushing it beyond its present limits.

"Ma...Master, please, will...will you keep your promise? You...you promised you would stay and...bury me."

Skinner leaned forward, barely hearing his pet, not understanding what he was hearing. "Bury you?" He was thoroughly confused. What did going to the cabin have to do with a burial?

His pet looked up, eyes red, barely able to contain their terror. "You promised you would bury me. That you wouldn't leave my body for the dogs, like he said he would."

By now Skinner was beginning to clue in that, in his haste to leave, he hadn't taken into consideration his responsibilities as his pet's Master.

"For the dogs? Who said that, Pet?" He kept his voice quiet, calm.

"Spender," whispered his pet.

Damn, thought Skinner, even dead that bastard was affecting their lives.

He reached over and released his pet's seat belt, pulled him over so that he rested against his chest. "Pet, I'm so sorry. Listen to me, I am not unhappy with you. I am not taking you to a quiet place to give you a gun and a bullet."

He sighed, placed a kiss on his pet's forehead. "We are going to my cabin. By a lake. For the weekend. A short holiday for the both of us. That's all. Nothing more terrible than that, Pet."

He tightened his grip on the man in his arms. "Alex. Whatever made you think I had had enough of you?"

His pet snuggled closer. Skinner rarely used his name. "You stripped me. You took my decorations away. My collar."

"Oh, Pet. I did that so if anything happened on the drive, if there was an accident, we wouldn't have to answer questions. I'm sorry, Pet. I should have explained."

"Please, don't do that again," dared his pet.

Skinner tilted up the tear-ravaged face. "All right. But if anything happens, I'll refer all and any questions to you." And he kissed his pet's mouth.

Even after the kiss ended, his pet wouldn't release his hold on his Master. Skinner thought, found a way that might reassure his pet. He pushed back the seat a notch, settled him on his lap, face against his groin. "We're about twenty minutes from the cabin," he used his most severe Master voice. "You have that long to get me hard...and to keep me hard, through my jeans. And when we get there, we will discuss the fact that you kept your worries and your thoughts from me. Need I remind you, Pet, that I own all of you, your thoughts as well as your body."

There was a new pothole that Skinner avoided only at the last minute. And a curve that he slowed almost to a crawl to successfully negotiate. By the time the car came to a stop under the tree that served as carport, the fly of his jeans was soaked with his pet's saliva and with the pre-come that his pet's talented mouth had drawn out of him.

As the car engine ticked into coolness, Skinner allowed his pet to unbutton his fly, take his throbbing cock into his mouth and expertly suck him into orgasm.

Still, his pet was obviously uneasy as they made their way to the steps leading up to the deck and the windowed wall that overlooked the small mountain lake. Skinner stopped just before the first step. His pet waited behind him.

"Take your clothes off, Pet. Only between homes will you be allowed to wear anything. On home ground, you will always be open to my touch."

He watched as, with a sigh of relief, his pet quickly shed his clothes, carefully folding them and placing them in his Master's hands. Skinner stooped and picked up the short boots that his pet had worn.

"Heel to the door and wait for me."

While his pet made his way up the wooden steps to the deck and the doors, Skinner went back to the car and stashed his pet's clothing into a bag which he left in the trunk. He pulled out a medium sized locked case and another with the things he had thought to bring for himself.

At the door, his pet waited in perfect position, hand behind his back, knees wide apart, ass high, shoulders and face to the plank flooring of the deck.

"Stay here until I call you," and Skinner unlocked the doors, slid them open and went in.

He made his pet wait a good hour as he went about opening windows, turning on the hot water tank, seeing that the refrigerator was plugged in, ranging the contents of his case in their proper places. He took the time to rearrange the contents of an armoire in the great room for those in the locked one, his pet's adornments and toys. He went out to the car and brought in the cardboard box with the food, and put that away. He even took the time to do some quick work on one of the support posts in the great room.

Then, he called his pet to him.

Slowly, Krycek made his way to his Master.

"I am disappointed in you, Pet."

His pet whimpered, began raising his head, then, troubled, bottom lip caught by his teeth, he lowered his head to the floor, waiting.

"You should have spoken to me about your worries. You didn't. That saddens me, Pet." Skinner was pleased to see his pet flinch at the words. "I thought you trusted me enough to tell me when something bothered you. And this was particularly important, Pet. You know that I will have to punish you."

He went to crouch behind his pet. With a greased finger, he opened up his pet's asshole, slipped in one of the bigger butt plugs he had brought with him, the one that, because of its design, would grow more uncomfortable the longer his pet wore it. And his pet was going to wear it for a long time.

Then he walked over to the post. "Over here, pet."

He raised his pet's face until he was kneeling, made him turn so that his back was against the post. He re-collared his pet, attached that with a chain to the restraint he had screwed into the post. He fettered his pet's ankles together behind the post, using the post itself to keep his pet's knees apart. He slipped the waist belt on, confining his hand to the other side of it after passing his arm around the post. The position forced his hips out.

Then, from the newly-stocked shelves of the armoire, he took several weights which he hung from his pet's nipple rings, added a weighted cuff to his pet's balls, snapped a cock ring around his pet's flaccid cock.

"You will stay in that position until I decide that my disappointment in you has lessened, Pet. The decorations will remain until I replace them with something else."

And watched as peace and gratitude settled in his pet's eyes. "Yes, Master. Master? Thank you."

Skinner kept his pet confined to the post while he went around checking on and doing the minor repairs that the winter had forced upon the cabin. Whenever he passed by his pet, he took a moment to play with the weights, tugging on them, or to stroke and caress his pet's body, knowing full well that his touch aroused.

He made sandwiches for lunch, fed his pet his, allowed him some water before settling himself down on the couch for an afternoon nap. When he woke about an hour later, he came up to his pet, released him from the post. "Heel and follow me."

He led his pet out onto the deck. His pet stopped at his side, head down. "Kneel up, Pet. Look around you. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Skinner smiled at the view, the mountains in the background, the hills around them, the lake that came up almost to the edge of the deck. "The nearest neighbour is at the other side of the lake, around the jet of land that you see in the distance. A very quiet neighbour. I rarely see him, let alone hear him. As he can rarely hear anything from this part of the lake." He looked down at his pet, who was now looking up at his Master.

"I think we need to make a few things clear, Pet. Maybe I was wrong to take your decorations from you without explaining why. I wanted to get out of the apartment before someone found something for me to do in the office.

"But you were very wrong in not telling me what was worrying you. Once we were on our way, there was nothing preventing you from asking, pet. You've grown courageous lately. And you seem to know just how far you can go with it. What happened that it failed you?"

His pet shrugged.

Skinner shook his head. "Not acceptable, Pet."

He went to sit on the top step and beckoned. Slowly, his pet made his way over. Skinner waited until he was right by him to grab his pet, haul him over his lap.

"As I said, it's very rare that noise from here carries to our neighbour, and I happen to know for a fact that he's not here this weekend. I expect to hear your remorse, Pet, at your disappointing me."

Skinner settled his pet firmly, his bound and erect cock between Skinner's thighs, his ass high on his lap, in perfect position. He brought his hand down hard, in a slow, accurate rhythm that soon had his pet's ass cheeks flaming, the muscles quivering, his own hand tingling and his pet's voice filling the air around them. The butt plug vibrated from hand hitting cheeks, rubbing against a prostate that only added pressure to an already throbbing cock.

When his right hand began protesting, Skinner flipped his pet around. "Well, Pet. Have you had time to come up with an explanation of your behaviour?"

He rubbed soothing circles on his pet's back as he listened to him try and gain control of his sobs. "Sc...scared, Master."

"Scared. Of what, Pet? Seems to me that by not asking you were the one responsible for scaring yourself."

Krycek shook his head, face miserable.

"Well, this will be a lesson to you, Pet. Next time, ask. I will answer your questions. There will never be punishment for the asking of them, Pet. There is only punishment for the displeasure your fear has caused me."

And he continued the spanking with his left hand until his pet's cries affected even his Master's heart. Still, he didn't offer comfort to his pet yet. He wanted this lesson to be truly and thoroughly learnt. He left his pet, softly whimpering to himself, in position on the deck while he set up the barbecue, lit the fire and placed aluminum foil wrapped vegetables on the grill to cook in their own juices. He prepared the marinated steaks to the medium rare that he and his pet both preferred and only then, with plate laden, did he call his pet to him.

His pet ate whatever he was given, in silence. He kept his eyes down, not daring to look at his Master. With cause. When Skinner finished cleaning up, he spent some time inside the cabin, working with some of the tools that he kept there.

"Pet."

With some reluctance, his pet found his way into the cabin. Skinner restrained him on his back, not at all sympathetic when his pet's flaming buttocks touched the floor, causing him to hiss. "Tonight, you will spend the night here. Not in my bed. Depending on how you behave during tomorrow's training, you may spend another night on the floor, or, if you please me, in my bed."

"Yes, Master," said his remorseful pet. "Thank you, Master."

Skinner hid his smile at the mournful tone. His pet was back. He gently caressed his pet's face, bent and thoroughly kissed his pet's delicious mouth.

As Skinner made himself comfortable in his loft bed, he wondered who the hell he really was punishing by his sleeping alone. Since Spender, his pet had rarely spent the night in his own room. Only when he was being severely punished. And, Skinner admitted as he pounded a pillow to his specifications, he missed the presence of his pet, either at the foot of the bed or next to him, snuggling after they had had sex. He didn't sleep particularly well.

The morning found a properly subdued pet watching for his Master's approval of anything he did. Skinner waited until after breakfast to begin the day's training. He had his pet follow him back onto the deck, to the top of the steps. This time he had him lie on his back, on the deck, legs widely spread.

Skinner made himself comfortable on the top step, played some time with his pet's body, his decorations. His cock responded well to his Master's touch. Skinner raked his fingers through the dark curls that grew at the base of his pet's cock. Without a word of explanation to his pet, Skinner took a pair of small scissors in his hand and began cutting away at the hair. He raked the clippings off, tossing them to the ground. Then, he lathered the stubble and, with a safety razor that he rinsed in a small pot of warm water, he carefully shaved his pet's pubic hair.

"Yes," Skinner passed his hand over the smooth skin, "I like this."

With one hand, he began stroking his pet's cock in the rhythm he now knew would arouse him. With the other, he played with his pet's decorations, pulling slightly on the nipple rings, skimming his fingers over his pet's sensitive abdomen, his thighs until his pet whispered, "Master, I'm going to come."

Skinner smiled. "Thank you, pet. Now listen to me. See how hard you are now? How your cock is riding high against your belly? I want to see it remain that way. I'll allow it to descend to the perpendicular, but anything lower than that will displease me.

"You may not touch yourself. When you need a hand, you will tell me, as you do when I don't want you to come. I will raise your cock for you again."

"Master. How...how long..." His pet hesitated.

Skinner smiled. "Good. I see yesterday's lesson was worth while. How long will I keep you this way? As long as I care to. It could be an hour. It could be all day. And no, you are not allowed to come. See that shaded area of the deck. Go kneel there. You may look at the scenery while I read."

His pet interrupted his reading whenever his cock began flagging. Skinner enjoyed watching his pet's face as he struggled to remain in the state of constant arousal without coming. He passed his hands possessively over his pet's body, raising his cock often without ever touching it. He took delight in the sight of his pet, eyes open, body flushed, trembling from being denied any release of any kind, yet awaiting his master's pleasure.

And it aroused him as well.

Still, it was after lunch before he allowed both of them to be satisfied. He waited until his pet's tearful, quivering voice informed him that he needed his Master's touch and, this time, he bent his pet over the short table he had brought out, pulled the butt plug out and replaced it with his cock. "You have my permission to come," Skinner growled. They both shouted their completion, the noise startling some of the birds in the near-by trees.

That night, his pet by his side, both of them once more sated, Skinner slept soundly.

Early the next morning, he introduced a new ritual to his pet's routine. He allowed his pet to use the bathroom, then led him to the deck and down the steps. There he had him sit and, smiling, had his pet slip his feet into thick white socks then into an excellent pair of running shoes. He tied the bows, attached a retractible lead to his pet's collar.

"From now on, Pet, we go for a run whenever we're here. We'll start with an easy one. A mile around the lake and then back. Come on, up on your feet, Pet. We'll do a few stretching exercises then we jog."

"Oh, and the plug. Remember, it stays in. All the way there and all the way back, Pet."

Over the spring and summer, whenever they came, Skinner and his pet went for a morning run together. Sometimes, he liked to decorate his pet especially for the run. He attached differently sized bells to his nipple rings, to the navel ring, to the oval that pierced his foreskin, even to the cylinder that he still wore to weigh down his balls. They made a nice tinkling sound that accompanied them as they ran.

They had an interesting start one particular morning. His pet was in need of a little punishment for an infraction of the rules. Skinner was not about to let the changes in their relationship alter his pet's training. He pulled out another of those purple bags that always made his pet wary, took out a plug that ended in a horse-tail.

It was worth every penny spent on it, just for the revulsion on his pet's face when he saw it. The black tail was thick and long, useful as flogger if necessary; the plug wider and longer than what his pet normally wore when running. When ordered into position for insertion, his pet tossed his head, flipping the hair off of his face, in a small show of rebellion. Skinner had to grin, that movement being precisely why he'd chosen this particular adornment in the first place.

Under the dappled light of the early morning sun through the overhead canopy of leaves, they ran steadily down the forest path. No sound except for sweet song of birds just waking, the steady thud of their foot falls and the gentle swishing of the horse tail along the backs of his pet's thighs.

Fascinated by the sight of the tail emerging from between his pet's tight cheeks, Skinner dropped back, nodding slightly to his pet to reassure him when he turned his head to look back questioningly.

Watching his pet's muscular buttocks alternately flexing and stretching and the steady dance of the tail was almost hypnotic, not in the least relaxing. They were approaching a small clearing beside the path. He reached out and lightly touched his pet's shoulder, drawing him to a halt. Without a word, he guided his pet to a fallen log, an ancient oak, shrouded with soft, dew-damp moss.

His pet instantly understood what was wanted of him. He tossed his head again, his nostrils quivering like the pony Skinner had made of him. Silently, he dropped down onto the log, the chain and weights hanging from his nipples cradled against the mossy surface.

Tantalized beyond all patience, Skinner moved swiftly behind his pet, nudging the thighs even farther apart. He smiled at his pet's swift compliance, pleased at how he somehow managed to project an air of subtle rebellion. Discipline was definitely called for.

The ache in his groin reminded him that whatever he administered would have to be done swiftly. With brisk efficiency, he brought his open palm down on each rounded globe in turn. The red of his hand prints glowed on the honeyed skin.

"You colour up so nicely, Pet." It was difficult not to laugh at the sombre, injured expression on his pet's face, at the groan that held a hint of protest. Skinner repeated the hard slaps until his palm began to warm, finally stepping back to admire the results.

Nice. Skin bright red, almost radiant in the soft morning light. Still, his mood called for just a bit more. The long tail, reaching almost to the ground in his pet's current position, was the perfect solution. Gripping the plug's flared base, he twisted and pulled it out in one motion. A long satisfying moan from his pet told him the abrupt removal had just the right effect.

"Smart a little, Pet?" Holding the plug like a handle, he played the tail back and forth across his pet's back. "This might sting just a bit more. Unfortunately, it won't leave proper marks. Nevertheless, it should reinforce your punishment nicely."

The skin of his pet's back twitched as the long hairs stroked over it. This time Skinner laughed out loud: the whole scene really was quite horse like. Still chuckling, Skinner raised the horsetail over his shoulder and brought it down firmly across the reddened gold of his pet's buttocks. His pet moaned loudly yet his hips tilted up to meet the next stroke. The sight inflamed Skinner all the more. After less than a dozen strokes he stopped.

It was past time to see to his own pleasure.

Pulling the hot, quivering cheeks apart, he buried his cock full-length inside his pet, with one powerful thrust. His pet gasped, moaned and braced himself against the log while Skinner pounded his way to completion. Finally, bellowing his satisfaction, he came, pumping his come deep into the bowels of his pet.

He levered himself up, giving the rosy buttocks a final hard slap as he pulled free. "That was fantastic!"

His pet lay limp across the moss covered log, gasping, abandoned, aching. "Master," the bedroom voice husked, "please, let me come. I need to come, Master."

"Oh, you think you need it, Pet? That's entirely too bad. We both know you only receive what I choose to give."

With a wicked grin, Skinner readied the plug, wiping it down with a cloth taken from one pocket of his shorts and relubing it from a handy bottle taken from the other. Stroking his hand down the quivering flanks, he worked it into the puckered opening, knowing he was sealing the entrance, trapping his come inside his pet.

The accusing glare he received as he helped his pet to his feet amused him. With a brisk pat on the ass, Skinner urged him back down the trail. His pet staggered slightly and they continued on, at a much slower pace than before.

Watching from behind once again, Skinner couldn't help smirking at his pet's stiff, hobbling gate. The soreness of his ass and the hard erection bobbing between his thighs were strong reminders of who was the Master and who was the Pet.

Epilogue—In Which a Pet Speaks


Once a year, Master offers me my freedom and, once a year, I need him to console me after he does.

Even now, after all this time, the mere thought of being without him sends me into panic.

I know why he does it.

He needs to know that I stay with him voluntarily.

That I accept his right to train me, to punish me.

To reward me.

That I want only his hands to touch my body, my soul.

That I belong to him. Inside and outside.

Completely.

Thoroughly.

And I do.

He's permitted me more freedom as I've earned it. I may read, watch television, videos. I may use the computer.

If I want to read a certain book, to see a special video, I have only to ask.

He spoils me.

In turn, I have learnt to cook. It's really not that difficult. No harder than building a bomb from scratch, setting it up in a car. Just a matter of following the instructions.

And I've taken over the housework. I am, says Master, more of a neat-freak than he is.

Maybe. But this is the first real home that I've had and he's given me that. I want it to look good for him.

He's also given me permission to wear clothes, but I hate wearing them. He once said he wanted me open to him at all times. I want nothing to impede the touch of his hands on me.

We've compromised.

When it grows cold, I wear one of his old t-shirts, one that is thin, all pulled out of shape. Easy to remove, easy to allow him access to the body that belongs to him.

Only to him.

At the condo, I may walk on my feet when he is not there. But once he opens the door, I drop to my knees. I welcome him properly as befits my Master. It is only his just due considering the life that he's given me.

He protects me. Keeps me safe. Even from the dark. Only he will ever touch me. And even when he has to punish me, he comforts me after. He holds me, soothes me.

No one in my life before my Master claimed me ever took such care of me.

I hate going out. I'm sure that some psychiatrist would say that I suffer from agoraphobia, the fear of leaving one's house.

But why do I need to go out when all I need, could ever want is here with my Master?

After Spender's death—a disappearance that no one particularly noticed—my Master grew more concerned with me. He trained me in the ways that pleased him. He keeps me plugged as a reminder that my ass belongs only to him. I love waking to find the plug removed and his cock deep in me. I am not permitted to come in the morning, only at night, and then only if I have pleased him. I work hard to please him.

I love him.

There, I have said it.

I love him.

And I think he loves me, too.

Why else would he keep me around, humour me, bring me pleasure?

Comfort me.

He is retiring this spring. It won't happen soon enough for me. We will move to the cabin permanently then.

Since that decision, I am allowed to use my feet for more than running at the cabin, though I still prefer to heel by his side.

And I still find it hard to go to the cabin though I am fine once we arrive there.

Master understands.

He decorates me before we leave the condo, fills my ass with the largest, most uncomfortable plug he could find. The discomfort of sitting upright on the car seat is enough to keep my mind off the fact that I am travelling from one safe haven to another.

From one home to the other.

Once we are off the thru-way, I am allowed to assume the position that makes this all worth while. I nestle my face in his lap and work at making him hard until we arrive at the cabin where I am allowed to make him come.

I love the taste of him. I am addicted to it.

Last winter, a rumour made its way around the towns that the lake services. That someone, a foreign company, was buying up all the property around the lake, possibly for development.

That was us. My Master and I.

When Master announced he wanted to retire, I gave him the numbers to several of the Swiss accounts that I knew still had not been discovered. Master was surprised.

"There are millions in these accounts, Pet. More than enough to provide a new identity, to make a new life. Why haven't you done so, Alex?"

Alex.

There are times when I forget that is my name. I prefer Pet. But the occasions when he uses it are special. It means Master has been deeply moved.

"Because," I explained, resting my head on his lap, "you are my life."

His hands were oh so gentle on me that night and he let me come, not once but twice.

The purchase of the land guarantees our privacy. Master will use some of the money to build an addition to the cabin, a room for training. I only asked that a mirror be set in the ceiling so when he fists me, I can watch his hand disappear inside my body.

He still has occasion to punish me. I am not a perfect pet. But every time he has to do so, he quietly explains to me why it must be done. And my pain is still deserved for some of the things I did to hurt him and others.

Frankly, I don't care about the others. I care only that once I hurt him. That I enjoyed hurting him.

For that alone, I deserve all the punishment he cares to mete out.

He still marks me.

It annoys me that the marks fade. I want to bear his mark all the time. He can continue caning me if he wants for the satisfaction it gives him, but I want to bear a permanent mark of some kind.

I want a visible sign that I belong to him.

I found the solution one day while surfing the Internet. Now I only have to convince him of it.

A brand.

Made to order.

I showed him the site and watched his face. He said no, that he wouldn't burn me like that. But I printed out the information and left it lying around.

I saw him doodling the other day but he bunched the paper up and tossed it into the trash. I waited until he'd left for work to see what it was.

It's beautiful.

Almost Tudor in style. His initials. WSS.

They will look beautiful on my body.

Yes, it will hurt. As it should.

But once I wear it, I will be his forever.

It won't be long now. I think I shall do something to annoy him so that the next time we go running, he will replace the plug with the horsetail that he so loves seeing me wear.

Horses and branding go together.

He's a good Master.

He'll get the connection.

Soon I'll have what I want.

###

jmann@pobox.mondenet.com

Title: BEST SERVED COLD
A story in ten chapters with an epilogue
Author: NOIRCEUR
Betas: Keir, Minou, DW Chong, Gaby
Posted: Labour day Weekend, 2001
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Skinner/Krycek
Category: Torture/Master-Slave fic
Rating: Very Strong NC-17
Warnings: See below. Please.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to CC, Fox and 1013. I am not using them for any monetary purpose.
DEDICATED to my four betas who pushed and prodded until they were satisfied with the final product. Well, as much as possible. Have you ever tried to satisfy four betas??? <g>

A little background before you dig your teeth into this.
Last November (2000), I was in correspondence with Keir who suddenly mentioned she would like to read a story that had more than a couple of kinks in it. In fact, she wanted a series of kinks.
The deal was, she would find me the research sites and I would write.
Interesting stuff you can find on the internet, eh? <VWG>
Thus began BEST SERVED COLD. (My thanks to Gaby for use of the title.)
As I was plotting it, I thought that it might be a little more challenging to see if I could do the story only from one POV: that of the Master (aka Skinner).
Before I go further, let me just say that this Skinner barely has anything in common with the one who is canon, or even fanon. This is an AU setting. This is a Skinner who has been pushed to the extreme and who reacts in extreme ways. He is not a comfortable character. Not to write; certainly, I've been told, not to read.
WARNING: This Skinner is NOT going to be popular.
So if you are a Skinner fan, you might want to do both of us a favour and skip this story. Please. I am writing ViolentPsychotic!Skinner.
That said, I wanted the story to contain only the Master's POV. Whatever we learn of the Pet (aka Krycek) in the story, we should get only from what Skinner sees, infers, hears. So, within the story, we do not ever get inside Krycek's head in any way, shape or form....Yes, I know, not the normal way of things but, as I said, this is an experiment.
And experimentation, whether successful or not, should be at least attempted once in a while, just for the fun of it.
The Epilogue was added after the fact in order to satisfy some of the questions that betas posed about Pet's behaviour and about the one-sidedness of the story. It probably doesn't answer all of them, but I hope enough.
Now that you have been amply warned, if you do go ahead and read it, I wouldn't mind knowing what you thought about it.

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