TIMELINE: Oct 30th, 2002

Lick Creek, Kentucky

A single beam of light from the full moon shone through the window and illuminated the two figures that lay on the massive, roughly-hewn timber bed.

On the bed, one of the figures stirred, low moans barely audible above the loud refrains of the country music that filled the room. The figure struggled to raise his head from the fleshy pillow of his companion's chest. His head turned as if searching for someone or something, but as he was blindfolded and sightless, it did no good. His hands were bound behind his back with manacles coated with rust, but still strong and sturdy. The tarnished metal caught the moonlight here and there, glistening like jeweled bracelets. A studded leather choke collar was tight around his throat with a length of heavy chain that disappeared into the fist of the other figure in the bed. The slight jerk when he raised his head was enough to arouse his keeper out of a deep sleep. The chain suddenly pulled taut, tightening the collar to the point that he grew light-headed and fuzzy.

Just when he thought he would pass out, it was loosened a fraction and though he wanted—-needed-- to fill his oxygen starved lungs, he remained perfectly still. He knew that to move without permission would have grave and long-lasting consequences.

If he thought that the punishment would be fatal then he would have rebelled long ago, but he had been informed upon his purchase that he would not die, not for good anyway. He would be kept alive for ever, for eternity, in an endless torment of pain and suffering. Oh they would kill him for their own sadistic pleasure and the entertainment of their associates and clients, HE had cheerfully gloated. They had killed him numerous time in the past and, no doubt, would continue to do so in the future until he submitted to HIS demands. But they always brought him back from the blessed void of the hereafter, where he had seen his father and, more recently, his mother and beloved sister bathed in starlight. There he had felt safe and loved and sheltered from harm. There he had left a little bit more of his soul each time he was coaxed back to life.

The large, rough hands of the healer on his forehead and chest, its electric energy coursing through his battered body... the painfully bright lights... the thick smell of unfiltered cigarette smoke... the cold, hard eyes of his owner, his savior.

He had lost count of the number of times he had awoken to see the same scene over and over -- the blank, unemotional face of his healer staring back down at him. His owner's face peering through the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke by his side, usually holding his hand and stroking his face, his hair or as was the last time, just the previous morning, his clean shaven scalp.

The other man in the bed wrapped a meaty hand around the chain, shortening it and dragging Mulder's face down towards a hair-covered, bloated belly. Mulder almost passed out from the stench that assaulted him. His stomach, still full of greasy food and raw moonshine heaved once, twice, a flood of bitter tasting bile rising up his throat and into his mouth.

The man who had rented him for 48 hours had hand fed him just hours before. Mulder, bound and blindfolded, impaled on the man's enormous cock, a steel cock-cage digging into his engorged flesh. That was only after he had used Mulder as a plate, his naked body covered with boiling-hot sauces and burning chillies. Hot oil had been brushed onto his flesh periodically and there were numerous cuts and deep gashes on his chest and belly where his abuser had sliced into an enormous T-bone steak. His blood and sweat had welled and mixed with the juices from the meat and he had listened to the man's obvious delight of his gourmet meal.

Mulder felt the flesh of a cock press against his lips and obediently opened his mouth to accept the intruder, to serve the man as best he could even though it sickened him to do so. A foot in his side forced him to move. He struggled over the large leg and kneeled between the flabby thighs, the man's feet around his waist, holding him in place, keeping him prisoner even though he had no way of escaping.

The cock in his mouth was limp and dry, not even dripping with pre-cum. He knew it would take a long time to get his temporary owner hard and aroused and he set about his task with no enthusiasm except to get it over and done with as quick as possible.

He started tonguing the bulbous head, intending to lick and suck when a jet of warm, salty liquid flooded his mouth. Without conscious thought, he pulled back a little, the man's pee dripping down his chin and onto his scarred and bloody chest.

A roar of anger rumbled through the room and the choke collar became dangerously tight instantly, leaving Mulder unable to breathe and fighting frantically to free himself.

"Don't move!" Each word was punctuated with a solid fist to his kidneys. His buyer forced his head back on to the still limp cock, the collar still cutting off his air supply.

"Finish ya job, boy." Mulder heard through the fog that was descending on him. The collar loosened slightly, just enough for him to swallow the seemingly never-ending stream of urine that came from the massive penis.

After two or three minutes the stream died to a trickle and he forced himself to clean up the last few drops, holding the cock in his mouth until he was told to do otherwise. He could still want to be sucked off, for all Mulder knew.

He was shocked when he felt a large hand rub his bare scalp affectionately, as if he were a treasured pet, a loyal dog. It was the first sign of affection that he had been shown since being delivered to the rustic log cabin in the early hours of the previous day.

The hand moved down to grip his collar and he was jerked upwards to straddle the man's huge stomach, the chain still uncomfortably taut but not as bad as before.

Mulder felt his stomach protest at the abuse it had suffered in the past few hours and he wondered if he should warn his master of impending trouble. He had been ordered to maintain total silence, unless spoken to. But he could feel the bile and stomach acids, the grease and alcohol and piss rising up his esophagus and knew he was going to throw up in a matter of seconds. He wanted nothing more than to empty the contents of his stomach into his abuser's face but the fear of what they would do to him convinced him to break his silence.

"Uh, uh. Sir?" He could feel rough hands roaming over his body, probing and pinching and poking, like he was a steer at a cattle sale. His voice was little more than a whisper and he repeated himself, a little louder this time.

"Um, excuse me Si..." A stinging blow whipped his head to one side and he felt the debris of his stomach fill his mouth. He swallowed quickly but knew he couldn't hold on much longer.

"I told you to shut the hell up, bitch!" The chain was pulled tight again and his balls were squeezed between sausage sized fingers.

Somehow he managed to speak, his voice low and raspy.

"I need...use bathroom....gonna be sick."

Within a minute or two he was on his knees in what he assumed was the toilet, packed dirt under his knees, the strong odour of home-made bleach evident in the air. His owner still had a tight hold on his chain and was standing directly behind him.

"You put up any fight, pretty boy, and you'll be leavin' in a body-bag. I paid a lot for ya and I intend to get me's money's worth."

Mulder began to vomit. He was only barely aware that his client had kneeled down behind him and was forcing his now rigid cock between Mulder's buttocks. He was still lubed from earlier penetrations but that didn't lessen the pain and humiliation he felt.

The client was timing his thrusts, forcing his way in when Mulder was struggling to breathe between heaves.

"Oh, fuck, boy. You are a tighty, ain't ya?" The man grunted in his ear, his fetid breath adding to the stench of vomit that filled the tiny outhouse. "You sprung back good."

He was fully impaled now and his stomach was still violently ejecting its contents. How long this current hell would last he had no idea. He wished his captor would tighten his collar and allow him the escape of unconsciousness for the remainder of this nightmare.

Mulder's rectal muscles squeezed involuntarily with each spasm of his aching gut, causing the other man to thrust harder and faster, driving them both to explosive orgasms.

They both slumped over the toilet bowl, Mulder buried beneath the older man's massive bulk, unable to move, barely able to breathe and Mulder didn't care one iota.

He wished for death and he prayed for it as well. A death far away from those who wanted him alive, far away from the healer with the face of stone. Surely if he was dead for long enough not even the alien healer would be able to reach him, to revive him, to start the cycle of torture and agony over again.

Just as he approached oblivion, just as he dared to hope that his prayers might have been finally heard and answered, he felt the weight move off his back and his traitorous lungs drew in the foul-smelling air. He sobbed at how bad his luck was and cursed the deity who had failed him.

"Just one more minute. Just one fucking more fucking minute!!! Is that too much to fuckin' ask for??????"

His client pulled him to his feet a lot gentler than he had dropped him to his knees fifteen minutes before. He was led out of the out-house into the freezing night air. He could feel snow falling all around him and was shocked when a heavy, fur-lined coat was draped over his bare skin. He stumbled over the frozen uneven ground, but was held upright by his client's paw-like hands.

"Don't worry none, sweet thing. You're gonna get all the fuckin' you can handle and then some. Big Joe gonna get you all cleaned up, then you 'n' me gonna have some fun."

Mulder had neither the energy nor desire to protest. He huddled into the warm coat and allowed his current owner to take him into the cabin and out of the storm.

Minutes later he was standing under a steaming hot shower, his still shackled hands secured to the shower-head above. The other man was washing blood, sweat, piss and vomit from his skin with surprising gentleness.

He was still blindfolded, the rough cloth soaked and heavy. He would gladly have remained blind for the rest of his life if it could be like this, with the warm water and firm hands washing away the filth, soft, meaningless words whispered in his ear in a heavy Southern drawl.

His carer manoeuvred him to one side and he felt the man join him in the small stall, flabby flesh pressing against his almost anorexic body. The other man soaped, washed and rinsed in quick time and turned off the taps.

Mulder was left shivering as he imagined his companion drying his own body before focussing once again on his pet.

The shackles were released and Mulder guided out of the shower and quickly rubbed down with a thread-bare towel. The sodden blindfold was replaced with a dry one so fast, he didn't even have time to blink.

He was led back down a short hall and into a room with a crackling open fire and thick fur rugs on the floor. Forced to his knees, his hands were once again secured behind his back and then to the floor with a length of heavy chain.

A large foot between his knees instructed him to part them wider than was comfortable. Another length of chain was attached to the front of his collar, forcing his head down.

"Well, you do scrub up alrighty for a city fella."

He sensed his client in front of him, felt his work-roughened hands roaming his naked flesh. Slobbery kisses covered his bald scalp as his cock and balls were fondled and caressed, squeezed and stroked.

Mulder was trembling, but not because he was cold as his client obviously thought. A glass tumbler was pressed to his lips and he was forced to swallow the mystery liquid.

It smelt like jet-fuel and tasted just as bad, burning his tongue and scorching his throat as it travelled to his stomach.

"This 'ere will warm you right up, little cub. From the inside out."

The glass was raised again and this time something sweet and warm and thick was flowing down his gullet and the combination of the two made him feel dizzy and hot. He swayed and was steadied by the other man who seemed pleased with the results.

"And that was my sweet Bessy's secret potion, make you nice and dozy 'n' keep you hard and ready for Big Joe."

Mulder could feel the effects immediately, his cock erect and standing at attention, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. He was so aroused and horny he would have humped the pigs he had heard squealing in their pens on the way back from the outhouse.

He moved his hips hoping to guide his cock into the man's hands but the hands were gone. He felt them unlocking the chain to separate the manacles around his wrists.

"Now, don't go gettin' any ideas 'bout 'scapin' boy. I'm letting yer hands free so you can pleasure my Bessy proper 'n' all. I got me a good grip on ya chain." He gave a sharp tug to emphasize his warning. "I'll snap ya neck before you get to your knees."

Once his hands were in front of his body and re-joined with a two-foot length of chain between the bracelets, Mulder was positioned on his back.

"Bessy! Get yaself out here and look what Papa Joe has got for ya."

Soft footsteps told Mulder that Bessy had obeyed the call. Course fabric across his belly and chest told him that Bessy was standing directly over him, her feet either side of his narrow hips.

Until now he hadn't thought anyone else was in the tiny, remote cabin. He wondered how many others might be here and how many he would end up servicing.

"Ooooooo. Thankyou Pa!" A high, shrill voice filled the room, a voice that Mulder was certain belonged to a young woman, a very young woman, possibly still in her teens.

"He sure is pretty, ain't he, Pa?" She had lowered herself, straddling him, her slight weight hardly noticeable. He felt her wet flesh in contact with his and she was rubbing herself against him, smearing her juices over his skin.

"Only the best for you, lovey." Joe was now at Mulder's head, his long arms placing Mulder's hands at the hem of the girl's nightgown. "'n' he gonna show you a really good time."

When Mulder failed to lift the cloth, his collar was tightened and only released as he submitted and drew the heavy cloth upwards.

He felt Bessy's long hair on his chest as she leant forward so he could remove the nightgown. The potion he had drunk earlier had heightened his arousal and sensuality and every touch was ecstasy, even as his mind screamed at him that what he was doing was not only morally and ethically wrong but criminally as well. Maybe he'd get lucky and the cabin would be raided by cops on the search for illegal booze, he would be arrested and incarcerated, out of his true owner's slimy grasp.

Just as Bessy was positioning his cock so she could impale herself on his stiff erection, a loud, impatient rap sounded and Joe furiously cursed the interruption.

"Go see who the fuck's there, girl." He resumed his tight hold on Mulder's collar, reinforcing his captive's helplessness.

"But Pa. I's just about to have 'im." She whined, not moving, Mulder's cock half-covered by her dripping sex.

"He ain't goin' nowhere. Now, move or I'll change me mind 'n' not let you have 'im at all."

Mulder felt her rise and move to his left. Seconds later a cold blast of air entered the cabin and he heard a very familiar voice.

"Your time is up. Release him and stand back." The words were without accent or emotion. They may as well have been spoken by a robot.

"Well, we ain't finished with 'im yet and he ain't leavin' 'til we do." Joe moved to stand up and the chain caught the blindfold, dragging it upwards and allowing Mulder to see for the first time in almost two days. He blinked, trying to focus and adjust his sight to the flickering light that was given off by the fire in the corner.

Mulder also saw his client, abuser, rapist for the first time and he was even more gigantic than Mulder had imagined during his enforced blindness. From his prostrate-like position on the floor the man towering over him looked at least seven feet tall and almost as wide.

"The time you purchased him for is complete. Release him and stand back." Still the same flat monotone, though even Mulder flinched when the healer took one step towards them.

Joe dropped the chain and backed towards the far wall where a collection of rifles hung on hooks amongst bear and deer trophy heads. Mulder realised at once what Joe was intending to do and was about to call out to warn him but was too late, as the alien crossed the room in five quick strides.

Even though Joe was about a foot and half taller and certainly two hundred pounds heavier, the healer grasped him around the throat with one hand and lifted him off the floor as if Joe was a child.

Mulder grimaced as the sound of snapping bones echoed around the room and he couldn't watch the life being squeezed out of the man he had been rented out to.

Thirty seconds later, Joe's lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud and the healer was leaning over Mulder. His face was emotionless as always, giving Mulder no clue as to what he was thinking, even if he had any thoughts independent of their master.

He broke the collar and chain that anchored Mulder to the floor as if they were pieces of over-cooked spaghetti and pulled Mulder upright. Without a glance at the terrified Bessy cowering behind the large couch, the healer herded him out of the cabin.

The storm had blown itself out, though it was still freezing with a strong wind blowing. He was led over to the limousine that sat idling in the rutted track out front, its exhaust blowing copious amounts of smoke into the night air.

The rear door was held opened and Mulder gladly climbed inside to get out of the bitter cold and away from his abuser's home.

He knew better than to tarnish the fine, soft leather seat and knelt in his customary spot by his owner's feet.

One nicotine-stained hand reached down and caressed his bare scalp. He couldn't fight the training that made him lean into the caress and he felt reviled at his weakness.

"Well, Fox. Have you come to your senses or do I need to continue these foolish, though profitable, lessons?"

He meekly accepted the cigarette that was held in front of his mouth, drawing the carcinogenic smoke deep into his lungs. He could taste his owner's saliva and his stomach heaved in protest, but he used all his control to dampen the feelings of disgust and revulsion.

With his continued silence, the smoker pressed the intercom and spoke to someone in the front compartment. "Who is Fox's next scheduled client?"

He heard the rustling of fine paper—-no electronic diaries or PalmPilots for the old fogey—-and a reply soon come back.

"Count Bakula is having a ritual human sacrifice this All Hallows Eve."

Mulder was visibly shaken at the news. He almost thanked his Master for his policy of not revealing who he was being temporarily sold to or for what purpose they wanted his body.

He recalled hearing about the mess that was formally known as Alex Krycek after he had been provided for one of the Count's ceremonies. It was said that not even the supernatural talents of the alien healer had been able to reconstruct Alex back into anything resembling a human being. The smoker supposedly kept the pitiful creature somewhere in the depths of the compound and on more than one occasion Mulder would have sworn he heard its pathetic screams echoing through the long, dark hallways of the lower levels.

There were rumours that Bakula had summoned up one or more demons and had offered them Krycek's body and soul in return for untold powers or unlimited riches and wealth. These particular entities were apparently cannibalistic in nature and there was not much left of Alex for the healer to piece together, but that didn't stop the black-lung bastard from ordering that Alex be resusitated and kept alive on the minimal amount of raw meat and blood necessary.

A wrinkled hand on his cheek brought Mulder back to his current situation.

"I need your answer now, Fox. It is only a day before Halloween and I'll need to make other arrangements in order not to let the Count down."

He felt the older man wipe away the tears that were running down his cheeks and thought of what his answer would get him, where it would get him. Off the rental book that was made available to the most sadistic, cruellest beings on the face of the earth and a few other planets as well. And into the smoker's bed, into the smoker's arms, the smoker's lips on his, the smoker's exhaled breath in his lungs, the smoker's cock buried deep in his ass.

"Surrender to me now and you will go to the most exclusive party in the world as my consort," A passionate kiss interrupted his speech. "As my lover. Resist and you will be there as my gift to the Count." Another kiss, this one lasting so long Mulder started to feel faint and light-headed from lack of oxygen.

In the end, there really was no decision to be made. Resistance was futile. The lure of life, of being able to draw breath and to see the sun rise and set, to smell the first autumn rains after a sweltering summer was too hard to resist.

He looked upwards into pale, watery eyes, to a lined face with drooping jowls. The face of his master and owner stared back down at him and he saw concern and love and desire in the features of his future lover.

Mulder lowered his gaze submissively and raised his still shackled hands, the chain linking them relaxed and clinking in the absolute quiet.

"Release me, please, Master. I surrender to your will my body. I surrender to your will my mind."

Only two more statements in his Oath of Submission remained to be spoken. And they were the hardest two of all.

"I surrender to your will my life."

Mulder breathed deeply, his last breath as even a remotely free man and closed his eyes. Even though he had lived the last two years in 24/7 sexual slavery, he had still had the right of refusal. He knew he could end it at any time by accepting the smoker's open invitation to share his bed.

For the brief amounts of time between clients, he was kept in a cage that was only ten feet square. It was built into the wall between his Master's bedroom and the one used by his keeper to prepare him for clients and the healer to revive him after his clients had finished with him.

The door on his Master's side was closed but never locked as was the case with the one on the other side. All he had to do to end his slavery, to end the almost constant physical and psychological torture was to push the door open and crawl along the short tunnel made of wire to the bed of his worst enemy and incestuous embrace of his father.

He had resisted the temptation again and again. Whenever he had heard the door to the grooming room open he had moved to sit by the locked door on that side of his cage, clearly displaying his choice to suffer what his temporary owners did to him rather than become his Father's lover.

But he could resist the temptation no longer. He was tired and in pain. He would never be set free, would never see his former lovers and friends ever again. Maybe, by giving in, his Master would allow him to die for good one day rather than commanding he be brought back to life and kept alive for all eternity as was promised two years ago.

"I surrender to your will my soul."

He felt the iron around his wrists fall away for the first time in two years as the tears fell freely from his eyes. He was pulled onto his Father's lap and cradled like a child, smothered in the paternal arms of the man he had hated like no other and to whom he now belonged--body, mind and soul.

Mulder watched in erotic fascination as his lover unbuttoned his expensive silk shirt, baring his chest, sprinkled with salt-and-pepper hair and two pinky-brown nipples.

He nuzzled Mulder's shaven head as he guided it to his breast, his touch loving and gentle.

"Call me Father, Fox. Tell me you love me."

As he brought a trembling finger up to trace around the tiny nub, Mulder whispered softly, his voice almost breaking, "Father, I love you."

"The way I taught you, Fox."

Wasn't his complete surrender and submission enough? Wasn't his giving total and eternal ownership of his body, mind, life and soul sufficient?? Obviously not according to the man in whose arms he lay.

"Son to dearest, loving Father, yours in life and death."

And this time it was Fox who placed his lips to his Father's, worshipping with tongue and teeth and fingers and hands. Lessons that were seemingly learnt a lifetime ago, now crystal clear in his mind.

"Perfect, my love. Welcome home." The smoker held his left breast out to Mulder, offering it as a mother would so her new-born can drink the life-sustaining milk.

Mulder took the small nipple into his mouth and began to suckle his father's breast. No milk was released but he didn't complain. He knew he would be satisfied with whatever nourishment his lover, his Father chose to provide and would never ask for more.

One slender finger, glistening with aromatic oil, pressed the intercom.

"Take my son and I home, James. We have a lot of catching up to do."

The button was depressed and the slender finger continued its journey down the expanse of soft, tender flesh to the tight opening hidden between taut buttocks.

A brief moment of resistance and a distressed cry didn't stop penetration as the digit was pressed inside, immediately locating the small gland that sent shudders of sweet pleasure through both Father and son.

"Hush, my love. You're safe now. Daddy won't hurt you."

The son was finally home and the Father was content.

THE END.