Chapter 3

Well, mission accomplished. I'm rather surprised at the ease with which I subdued Mulder, not that I gave him much chance to resist. I'm very glad that I didn't have to hurt him, because I don't dare deliver damaged goods to my Master. I want to make sure I'm in a position to take full advantage of any opportunities that Derek lets me have with my new pet, not bruised and bloody and hardly able to stand as punishment for failing to do my job properly. I'm sure that there'll be pain-a-plenty for Mulder in the very near future and I hope that Derek allows me to watch, maybe even participate. Something tells me that this could be my chance to show Derek that I have more to offer him than just my body and good looks. If my predictions are correct and Derek plans on expanding his stable, then he's gonna need someone to help break in the new blood and get them used to the bit and the whip.

I steal a quick glance in the cracked rear-view mirror, but all I can see is a dark shape. He's struggling a little, probably testing the tightness of his restraints. After a few minutes he goes still, obviously aware that he can't free himself, saving his energy for later.

I had been tempted when preparing the knock-out concoction earlier to add a little something extra, a couple of drops of liquid Viagra that Derek kept in his bathroom. But I knew I was on a tight deadline and didn't have time to indulge a fantasy that I'd had for almost a year now. I knew that if I started fucking him I wouldn't be able to stop.

The phone call from Skinner answered my question as to who sent the hamper containing a six-pack of expensive imported beer, Old Spice aftershave and a signed New York Knicks basketball but no card. I had never picked Skinner as the type to celebrate Valentine's, then again I hadn't picked him as bisexual either and I can usually sniff 'em out miles away. I wonder if he sent the female equivalent of the hamper to his wife of sixteen years or whether she received the more traditional flowers and chocolates.

I had my suspicions that Mulder was seeing someone, but hadn't been able to discover the identity or even gender of the mystery lover. They should get a gold medal for keeping their relationship a secret, considering the amount of covert monitoring both were and probably still are subjected to.

I hadn't found any of the cameras or bugs I had placed in Mulder's apartment before we met, so I figure he was paranoid enough to have it swept regularly by the Geeks-Are-Us trio.

I had rooted through his tiny bedroom while waiting for him to arrive and found things I had seen advertised in the skin mags that he had scattered around the cluttered unit. A pair of velvet lined cuffs hanging from one of the bedposts, a basket on the bed-side table filled with condoms, lube--KY, some exotic but ghastly tasting stuff-- and various sized and shaped plugs, some that looked more at home in a torture chamber. In the closet, tucked away in the back corner was a large Marine-issue duffel bag. Poking out at an angle were familiar looking packages, whips and crops, good quality by what I could see of the brand names on the unopened plastic wrapped items. I had been about to get down on hands and knees to investigate the kinks of my future pet further when a flash of light through the window alerted me to his imminent arrival. Who was this mysterious person who had obviously captured Mulder's heart? There were birthday and Christmas cards along with a heart-shaped Valentine stuck on a dusty mirror above the dresser, all with the same simple message--- To Fox, with all my love, W.

The ringing of my cell phone brings me out of the past and I reach into my pocket to extract it.

"Hello Master." It wouldn't have been anyone else. He's the only one who has this number. He doesn't require me to call him that outside of his estate and his company but I figure that Mulder is listening for any clue as to what's going on and I can't resist messing with his mind a little.

"You have acquired him." No beating around the bush for my Master. Not a question, either, just a statement of fact.

"Yes, Sir. Safe and sound." As snug as a bug in a rug, I'm tempted to say but the tone of Derek's voice tells me he's not in the mood for jokes. "We should be there in about twenty minutes."

"Good boy." I hear the approval in his voice; almost feel his hand stroking my head and neck as he always does when I please him. My cock stirs at his imagined touch and I long to take my left hand off the wheel to touch myself, the usual need for release that his voice never fails to evoke. The car starts to drift across the lane and I bite my lip to get my mind, and the vehicle, back on track.

Derek's still talking, issuing orders without explanation.

"Before you get here, I want you to blindfold him. Can he see where you are going?"

"No, Master." A little louder, just in case Mulder didn't catch it the first time. Another quick glance and I can see that he has renewed his struggles, all to no avail, of course. He's also starting to curse me, I think, (the blanket, engine noise and residual nerve toxin means his voice is little more than a scratchy whisper)but falling short of begging or pleading. That will come soon enough. "He's restrained on the back seat under a blanket."

"Pull over right now and blindfold him. And do it properly, boy. I can guarantee you won't like the punishment if it comes loose."

I pull over immediately, causing some ass-hole biker tailgating me to slam on his brakes. He swerves around me on a beat-up old Harley giving me the one-finger salute as he speeds by.

I lift the trunk and look inside for something to secure over Mulder's head. All I can find is an old dark blue pillow case, stained with oil and containing an assortment of tools, wrenches, screwdrivers, a pair of needlenosed pliers and a crowbar. I dump them in the trunk and take the case around to the passenger side of the car. A brief glimpse up and down the road to confirm it's presently deserted and I open the door, the creak of unoiled hinges loud in the still night air.

Mulder stirs at the sound and lifts his head, a movement that is clearly difficult due to the nerve block still in his system. The blanket slides down and he spots the make-shift hood in my hand along with a large handkerchief I found in the glovebox and length of rope. I can almost hear the gears turning in that brilliant mind of his. He's assessing the available evidence and deducing the probable outcome, every bit the master profiler that I admired and dare say even worshipped at Quantico.

"No, Krycek. Don't." He still doesn't plead, although I know he's fighting not to panic. He thinks he can talk to me calmly, to discuss alternatives, to come to some sort of compromise. I see the flash of fear that darkens his gorgeous hazel/green eyes. I could never work out their exact shade as it would change with his mood.

"I'm sorry, Fox. It's not my decision. I'm just following my Master's orders." A third time, just for luck. And I am genuinely sorry. I was so caught up in the need to please my Master that I didn't realize the effect Mulder would have on me. I thought that being in such an exaggerated position of power would insulate me from feeling his distress and fear. I mean Derek seems to be able to turn his emotions on and off like a tap, cold and sadistic one minute, warm and loving the next. Can I really go through with this if just a look or sigh from Fox has me melting into a sappy puddle? A simple blindfold and hood is nothing compared to what Fox faces in the coming weeks and months and I'm already having sympathetic thoughts about my victim and doubts about my ability to remain immune from his feelings.

Damn it!!

Why couldn't Derek have sent me out to collect some anonymous pretty-boy stranger? Someone who I haven't lusted after from first sight, whom hasn't fuelled my dreams and fantasies, banishing the nightmares caused by Derek's games if only for a few minutes at a time? Someone I don't give a fuck about and can treat like the piece of meat that Derek considers me to be?

I'm figuring that this assignment is his way of fucking with MY mind; a test of my true submission and loyalty. He knows about my desire for my former partner just as he knows about every other aspect of my life no matter how personal or seemingly inconsequential. I, on the other hand, know next to nothing about the man who controls my life, who holds my very existence in the palm of his hands. I don't know what he does for a living, assuming he lives off the proceeds of his inheritance from William Beckford. I don't know when his birthdate is and, if I did, couldn't buy him anything as I have no money of my own.

"Fuck!" Didn't I swear to myself after escaping from Smokey that I would rather kill myself than become just another person's accessory in return for a warm bed and regular meals? Where did that Alex Krycek go or did he ever really exist in the first place?

I can see from Mulder's shocked expression that I said some of that out loud and decide I'd better keep my mouth shut and just do it, before I really say something I'll regret. I also can't ignore the very real possibility that the car is bugged and that Derek is listening and maybe even watching what is going on.

I take a deep breath, having made up my mind that there is no turning back and that there never really was.

I can't and won't allow my feelings for Mulder to affect my judgment and treatment of him. I can't be any of help to him if Derek terminates me for becoming too attached. So I have no choice but to obey my Master's commands and try to block Mulder's silent pleas from my eyes and his fear from my heart.

END CHAPTER 3