TITLE: A Gift of Silk II
AUTHOR: SubRosa (subrosa31@yahoo.com)
RATING: Hard NC-17 for graphic consensual sex and language.
CATEGORY: SR
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance
SPOILERS: None
DEDICATION: To the ladies at the Topica Smut list, who like
toy!fic.
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter,
Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Broadcasting,
and to the actors who portray them. They are being used
without permission, and no profit is being made.
DISTRIBUTION: Wherever you like, but please let me know.
SUMMARY: Mulder. Scully. D/s. 'Nuff said.
THANKS: To Jemirah for beta work. All remaining mistakes, of
course, are mine.
FEEDBACK: Cherished at subrosa31@yahoo.com.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This is work of erotica, rated NC-17 for graphic sex in a D/s
context. Please do NOT read if this may offend you. Readers
under 17: please respect the age restriction on this story.
As the name implies, this story follows from "A Gift of Silk."
I'd like it if you read that one first, but it's not absolutely
necessary to understand this fic.
Further author's notes and disclaimers at the end.
********************
Settling into a D/s relationship with Scully has been a lot
easier than I expected. I was initially afraid she would have
second thoughts, but those worries were unfounded. She made her
peace with the idea before we began, and had no intention of
backing out.
"It was wonderful, Mulder," she said softly when I questioned
her the morning after her first night as my submissive. "I
felt...I can't quite put it into words, but it was so good.
Beautiful."
No, I was the one nagged by doubts. I was disturbed by my
complete absorption in the thrill of dominating her, causing me
to forget, however temporarily, that I had arranged the evening
for her pleasure. I was afraid, I told her, it could become too
real for me.
She considered that carefully. "Did you think about ignoring my
safeword?"
I shook my head vigorously. "Never. Not for a second. That's
what brought me back to myself."
She nodded. "And I never thought you would ignore it, no matter
how you felt. 'Real' dominance, whatever that means, doesn't
mean ignoring my well-being and pleasure. Not to you, at
least."
She asked the next question in a cautious, inflectionless voice.
"Leaving aside that concern, did you enjoy it? Enough to want
to do it again?"
I thought of her thrashing beneath me, panting for my cock, and
remembered my vow to make her crave my mastery. "Yeah.
Definitely."
"So do I. I want it very badly, in fact. But more importantly,
Mulder, I trust you to do this. I don't care how intense or
real it feels to you--you would never hurt me or push me into
something I don't want. Period."
I couldn't disagree with a word she said. Relaxing a bit, I
asked, "But you're sure it doesn't bother you that I get into it
so much?"
She considered for a long moment before responding, "Actually,
I'd prefer that. It felt real to me, Mulder, and frankly, I'd
rather that it's real for both of us than that it's something
you do to humor me. It's...it's more exciting that way. A lot
more."
I don't believe I'm pushing this after that comment, but there's
one question I have to ask.
"Scully, I'll do this if you want. I'd do it to make you happy
even if I didn't enjoy it--and I do. But neither of us has made
power games part of a relationship before. Are you afraid it
will affect how we deal with each other elsewhere in our lives?"
For the first time, doubt crossed her face. "Yes. That's the
only thing I'm afraid of. Not at work--we're too set in our
ways to change there. But I am worried about carrying the
submission into the rest of our sex lives. I've never been very
aggressive in bed, and I'm afraid this might set a pattern for
becoming passive as a whole."
She gave me a shy, beautiful smile. She doesn't know it, but
I'd do anything for that smile.
"But I want to try."
I spent the rest of the week researching D/s relationships.
Most of the safety rules I already knew, but I wanted to review
them. I came across some fascinating research on the
biochemical changes that occur during a BDSM scene, making a
note to have Scully look at them as well. And then I turned to
looking at websites put up by individuals in the lifestyle who
shared their experiences. I wasn't looking just for techniques
to try with Scully, but also for ways to adopt the persona of a
dominant.
If she wants this to be real, I'm going to make it real. That
means immersing myself in the scene just as deeply as she does,
and making sure that I guide and direct it in ways that
constantly emphasize her subordination and the pleasure she
receives from it. The key to topping Scully isn't going to be
technique or force; it's going to be confidence. If she
believes I can throw her into an altered state with the mere
touch of her scarf, then the task of getting her in the right
mood is half done. The endorphins released during a scene
should do the rest.
I came away from the research feeling much more convinced of my
ability to give her what she needs. Over the week we had some
general discussions about her preferences, likes, and dislikes.
She put a few things off-limits but resisted narrowing our
options down any further, saying that she found it more exciting
to be in the dark about what I might do next.
She came home with me last night. This morning, after a late
breakfast and separate showers, I set her on the couch with my
laptop and asked her to do some reading I'd pulled out for her.
I've been puttering around for what seems like hours, letting
her work through the material at her own pace, when I finally
hear her calling me into the living room.
"I've found a few more things we should talk about," she tells
me in her most businesslike tone.
I come into the room and seat myself on the opposite end of the
couch. She puts the laptop on the coffee table, the screen
facing away from me. Her eyes are bright and her color is high.
I grin to myself as I realize she's aroused by her reading but
trying to hide it. I'll let it go for now--we do need to
establish some guidelines. But when we're done, I'll show her
that her little act doesn't fool me.
"Of course. Where do you want to start?"
She's fiddling with a small notebook where she's been jotting
things down. "I was reading diaries and experiences published
by other...other..."
"By other submissives?"
She falls silent. I understand; society does not teach anyone,
male or female, to willingly apply that term to oneself. As I
told her from the beginning, though, we have to communicate
honestly about this. Scully needs to recognize what she wants,
accept it, and embrace it.
I deepen my voice at bit. "Don't hide from it, baby. That's
not how this works."
Her shoulders tremble and relax. "Yes. By other submissives.
Some of the experiences they describe...well, listen to this."
She reads aloud a bit of a post where a woman describes what is
known as "deep subspace," in which the submissive experiences a
remarkably powerful altered state comparable to the "runner's
high" experienced by marathon competitors.
"What if I can't do that?"
I keep a straight face with some difficulty. "Well, what if you
can't?"
I haven't yet had the pleasure of seeing Scully on vacation, but
I bet she plans them with the same precision she applies to the
rest of her life. I'll bet she decides she must see x number of
museums and read y number of books before she considers herself
properly relaxed and recreated. Part of the allure of
submission, I'm sure, is the freedom it offers from the rigid
structure she otherwise surrounds herself with.
"There isn't a goal or a roadmap for how this goes," I tell her.
"There's one unbreakable rule: D/s is a consensual relationship
based on communication. Beyond that, as long as neither of us
feels coerced or pressured and we're both enjoying it, I'm
happy. I'm not following some master plan to turn you into the
perfect submissive--unless that's what you want."
From the look on her face, I suspect it is. I file that away
for future reference before raising my one continuing worry.
"Since we're on the subject, there's only one thing I'm really
concerned about. Putting yourself completely in my hands is
going to be difficult for you. Trust isn't the problem--you
trust me implicitly, as I trust you. But you're going to have
to let go of your tendency to try to handle everything alone.
"I'm responsible for your well-being and safety before, during,
and after a scene. It's not uncommon to have a delayed reaction
to something you enjoyed at the time. So if something we do
upsets you after the fact, you *must* tell me. If you agree to
accept my dominance, you agree to accept my care afterwards.
That's not negotiable."
Her gaze is level and direct. "I understand."
She understands? That's it? Hell, if I'd know Scully would let
me take care of her because it's a *rule*, I would have started
following the damn things a long time ago.
There's another reason she's being so amenable, though. In
spite of her claim to like the element of surprise, she wants
our roles more precisely defined. There's some comfort in
knowing what is expected of you, even if that means knowing how
little control you have.
I glance at her notebook. "No??" is written on the top of the
first page. Yeah, I expected that to come up.
"A common rule in BDSM is that the top doesn't have to heed the
word 'no.' Only the safewords carry that meaning. Is that what
you want?"
Her nod is barely perceptible.
I lean forward and cup her face with my hand. "This is
important, baby. You need to tell me. Non-verbal communication
isn't good enough here."
Her gaze flicks to the computer screen before returning to meet
mine. "Yes," she whispers. "That's what I want."
"Very well." I regard her appraisingly and adopt my commanding
tone. "From here on out, you don't have the right to say 'no'
to me in a scene. This does not take away your right to refuse
an act--your safewords have the meaning we've agreed upon. But
unless you use them, nothing you say or do affects what I do to
you. You can sob, beg, or struggle as much as you want. None
of it matters."
I watch her reaction carefully. On one level, it's probably a
moot point. I don't think her fantasy scenes include being
forcibly subdued. Scully doesn't like force; she likes a
subtler domination, wants to feel velvet seduction over the
steel will imposed upon her. On another level though, this
further establishes my control over her. Absolutely nothing
emphasizes her subordinate position more than the knowledge that
her protests are meaningless to me.
The idea excites her; her breathing has become fast and shallow.
Looking into her dilated eyes, I know that at this moment I
could tell her to do anything and she'd obey me.
I'm not going to just yet, though. This is fun--like a long
tease leading up to the final seduction. She'll be pleading to
work on the practical applications of our discussion by the time
we're finished.
I go back to my normal speaking tone. "All right, that's
settled. What else do you want to talk about?"
She needs a moment to compose herself. "If I disobey, how will
you punish me?"
Good girl. I would have raised this issue if she hadn't.
"That's something which varies a great deal according to the
relationship. We haven't talked about this, but I've sort of
assumed I have the right to spank you or strike you, as long as
it's only with my bare hand. Is that all right?"
She fidgets. "Yes."
I pull the scarf from my pocket and finger it lightly as I
speak. "I don't just mean an erotic spanking, by the way. I'm
talking about a blow hard enough to hurt, anywhere on your body.
I'd never strike your face, of course, but perhaps your thighs
or your breasts if I want. It will be my decision how to
punish, and you are not supposed to enjoy it."
Her eyes are focused on the scarf. "I understand," she repeats
softly.
"Since you generally don't find pain erotic, I'm not likely to
take it further. I might send you away as sort of an adult
'time-out'--and that *will* be a punishment if you're in the
right mindset. I might satisfy myself but refuse to let you
come."
She looks stricken. I file *that* away before elaborating.
"For us, this is always going to primarily be a sexual
relationship. Neither of us is interested in taking the power
exchange into the rest of our lives. But when we play, you're
giving me control of your sexuality. Period. I can deny you
satisfaction or make you come until you pass out. Either is my
right."
She squirms with arousal and nods. What blind idiots did she
date before, who never explored the depths of her wonderful
sexual capacity?
"But to return to the subject of punishment, if ever you find
you really can't get in the mood to obey, I'd rather we stopped
the scene. Use the safeword, or remove the scarf. We'll try
again another time. Eventually, you might want to take it to
the next level. We could decide you don't have the right to not
be in the mood, and we'd establish a range of punishments for me
to use as I see fit. That, again, would have to be negotiated
in advance."
She glances at the screen again for a second. There's just a
hint of shame in her eyes--this is tough to get used to.
I try to reassure her. "There's nothing wrong with finding a
little punishment erotic. It doesn't mean you get off on pain--
though you might learn to, when it's properly applied. What it
actually means is that I possess you so completely that I can
discipline your body and mind as I see fit."
She moans, actually moans, and I can't suppress my grin any
longer.
"I love that. I love making you hot with just words." My voice
drops without my conscious intent. "You like the thought of me
punishing you, don't you?"
Her eyes go soft and hazy. "Yes. I do." She gives me a shy
smile and looks back at her notes.
"Mulder, many of these women talk about how their masters push
their limits, making them do things they don't like. In the
short term it's difficult, but in the long term they feel like
they've achieved a deeper submission. I'm supposed to give you
control unless I feel endangered or distressed--but I have a
safeword that just means 'change what you're doing.' That gives
*me* a lot of control. What if I misuse it?"
That's another thing to file away for future reference. Later
I'm going to have to sit down, review all of her questions, and
figure out exactly what she wants me to do to her. For now,
though, I have to concentrate on making sure she's totally
comfortable with the boundaries that we establish.
"I'm reluctant to say there is any such thing as misusing a
safeword, not in our relationship. After all we've been
through, I want to err on the side of giving you power. It's
your call, but a good rule of thumb is to use 'yellow' if you
feel like you'll have to use 'red' if the stressor doesn't
stop."
I pause to emphasize my next point. "I'm not just talking about
physical discomfort, by the way. The words are there if you
find something emotionally distressing as well."
Another peek at the computer and a nod.
"If you use them that way, we'll be fine. If you use them just
to change something you don't happen to like, or to avoid
punishment, I will always heed them, but we'll have to talk."
I hold up my hand to forestall the hurt rejoinder I see forming
on her lips. "I don't expect you do to that, Scully. When you
agree to do something, you always do it. But the experience
itself may be different from your expectations. That's true for
both of us, and if it happens we can and should renegotiate."
I search her face for agreement before I continue. "And this
isn't a contest to see how much you can take. Yes, you'll do
things that might be uncomfortable, and yes, I'll push you a
bit. But I never want to go past the point where the discomfort
excites you."
I stroke her petal-soft cheek with the scarf. "I'd expect you
to endure discomfort because you're too proud to complain, but
when you wear this you must rethink what pride means."
She sneaks another look at the laptop screen, and I turn it
around to see what is so fascinating. It is an image of a woman
lying on her side on the floor. Her hands appear to be tied
behind her back, her legs are bound at the ankles and thighs,
and her nipples are tight in the grip of weighted clamps. If
that isn't enough to demonstrate her complete subjection, her
studded leather collar and its attached silver chain leave no
doubt.
The other end of the chain rests casually in the hand of the man
who kneels behind her. He is largely cropped out of the
picture, but his hands on her body leave no doubt as to his
mastery over her. His left hand, the one holding the leash,
grips her shoulder, posing her for the camera. His right hand
is between her legs, the middle finger on her clit. Her face
contorts as that finger makes her come for him, for the camera,
for us.
The woman's top has stripped her of any conventional idea of
pride or modesty. She doesn't care that she's leashed, writhing
on the floor, her orgasm being recorded for public viewing. His
complete control gives her the freedom to feel complete ecstasy.
Take away the camera, and I'll bet this is what Scully wants. I
push her a bit harder.
"How I dress you, what I permit you to say and what I tell you
to do may seem undignified, or worse. I won't humiliate you,
but you *will* do things your brain tells you a modern, self-
sufficient woman shouldn't do. That doesn't matter. All your
ideas of dignity, autonomy, self-sufficiency, and endurance are
irrelevant. The *only* thing you should take pride in is how
well you obey me."
God, she's responsive. Her face is flushed with arousal and I
can see her nipples poking at the thin material of her bathrobe.
She touches the picture on the screen, her fingers resting on
the woman's silent ecstasy. "Would you do this to me?"
I carefully go into investigator mode, gathering information
without offering any indication of my own thoughts. "Do you
want me to promise I won't?"
Her lips part, but no words come out. After a moment's pause,
it is clear she will not make that request.
I reach out and deliberately tweak one of her erect nipples.
"I'll remember that."
Her mouth closes on a shuddering breath and she watches me
silently, completely under the spell of my words and her own
wonderfully active imagination.
"Do you have any more questions?"
She shakes her head.
I lower my voice. "Then take off that robe and get on your
knees."
Her face lights up as she complies, making my heart swell with
love and something darker. I put on her scarf and then undress
slowly, letting her watch me. When I'm finished, I kneel down
and cup her face, tilting it up.
"I can see the submission in your eyes, you know. I see more
now than I did last week. By the end of the day, I'll see more
still."
A soft sigh escapes her. I stand up without releasing her face
and draw her toward my painfully hard cock.
"Suck me, baby. Make it good, but I don't want to come yet."
She applies herself to her task with consummate skill,
enveloping me in her wet mouth. As she laps at me gently I
murmur down to her shining bowed head, trying to allay all the
concerns she brought up. I've answered her questions as her
lover and partner, now it's time to answer them as her Dominant.
"Don't think this is going to be easy, baby, because it won't
be. You're going to do things you never thought you could do.
And it will be hard. Some days you're going to struggle and
resist. And do you know what will happen then?"
She makes a noise that could be interpreted as a query. I pause
for a minute, steeling myself against the pleasure washing
through me.
"I'm going to push you harder. I'm going to push you until you
feel your will crumble and you find yourself yielding to my
commands. That's a promise."
She whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut. I wonder what she's
imagining as her hot little tongue strokes over me. She can't
be more excited than I am right now. I'm swelling within her
mouth, and I know I'm not going to last much longer like this.
"Feel how hard I am? I get that way every time I think about
what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to make you fight me,
and I'm going to subdue you. I'm going to strip your soul of
every guilty pleasure, every hidden secret, and I'm going to
make you revel in them."
Her long moan reverberates in the quiet room. My dick twitches
at the sound. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to wait.
Just a little bit more....
"And you're going to love it. You're going to choose to give up
all your pride, all your modesty, and give in to the need to
submit burning inside you. Every step of the way, baby. You're
going to beg you me to take you deeper."
She's grunting around my cock, her hips thrusting but meeting
only air. Both of us are on the edge now. God, I want to grab
her head and hold her close as I explode in her mouth, but
that's not the plan. She groans in disappointment as I pull
away. I'm damned tempted to plunge back in, but I control
myself.
My hardwood floor isn't suitable for the next phase, so I scoop
her up and carry her into the bedroom, promising myself that the
next time we're at her place with its softer carpet, I'll take
her on the floor. She needs to learn that she's far too wild
and wanton to care about ladylike conventions such as fucking on
a bed.
But today my bed is ready for her, the covers turned down
invitingly. I lay her down, pull off her panties and climb up
next to her. As she watches me passively, I place my right
middle finger on her lips. They part invitingly. I slide my
finger into her mouth and she begins working it with her tongue
like she worked my cock. Such a sensual creature.
I withdraw the finger from her mouth and slowly run it down her
body. It circles her nipple with a light teasing touch before
moving down to her clit. I dip into her cunt, hot and dripping
wet, and move up again to circle her clit. She moans languidly
and rolls her hips.
I return to the lecture I began in the living room. "I know
you, baby. I know that deep in your mind, you crave domination.
Nothing excites you more than the thought of being bent to my
will."
Her lips move almost soundlessly. "Your will..."
"That's right. My will." My finger is making the tight,
precise circles that she loves. At this stage in our
relationship, nothing is more important than teaching her that
submission is always associated with pleasure. Her flushed,
slick sex says she's learning her lesson well.
I lean down and whisper confidingly, "Your clit is so swollen
that it looks like a ripe little cherry."
"Oh, God..."
I pull back, again adopting my pedantic tone of voice.
"There's so much submission in you, but you tamp it down and
hide it. So it grows until you can't bear to hold it back.
It's swelling inside you now. You want to give in to it so
badly you can't stand it. Can you feel it?"
She nods, her face flushed and her lips parted. I touch the
scarf around her neck with my free hand.
"What does this mean?"
She licks her lips. "It means I belong to you."
"That's right. When you're wearing this, you can't hold back.
It lets me reach into your mind"--I rub her temple gently--"and
release all that submission. It's washing over you now."
My finger crooks upward, jabbing her G-spot. She gasps, her
eyes going wide. I repeat the caress again and again, picking
up speed.
"You can feel it through your whole body..."
"Yes...uh...please..." she whimpers.
"You can feel it filling you up, driving away every thought"--
she's panting--"every distraction"--writhing pleadingly--
"everything but your desperate need to obey me."
Her body arches. I pull my finger from her cunt and work her
clit mercilessly.
"Oohhh!"
That does it. She's gone, hips thrusting, eyes screwed shut,
voice breaking as she surrenders to her climax. I ram my finger
back into her spasming channel.
"AAH!"
Her eyes fly open as I pump her roughly, forcing her into the
rhythm I want. Obediently she matches my movements, watching me
even as she shudders in ecstasy.
I can't stand it. I was going to fuck her, but the sight of her
riding my hand in ecstasy is too much. Hoping this isn't too
big a step, I straddle her, grasp my cock, and begin jacking off
in the same rhythm my other hand is using to fuck her. Her eyes
go even bigger, if possible, but she's far beyond speech. I
feel like a god as she surrenders to me. Her orgasm is fading
but still wracking her body as I bring myself off in a few more
strokes, semen landing on her chest and belly.
My chest is heaving as if I'd just run a marathon. It's a long
moment before I can speak again.
"All it took was one finger, baby. You needed it so bad that I
made you wet, I made you beg, I made you come with one finger."
She throws her arm over her face and whimpers softly. I pull it
away. Shyness isn't an option for her. She'll need to learn to
display her arousal and orgasms for me, whether they're brought
on by my hand or hers, but we can build up to that slowly.
"You were made for this, baby," I tell her for now. "Don't ever
doubt it."
I clean us both up and adjust her scarf, emphasizing that we are
still in our roles, before moving on to my plans for the
afternoon.
"Submission isn't just about being tied to a bed and getting
fucked, you know. It means you actively dedicate yourself to my
pleasure. Whenever you wear this, you should be thinking about
how ready you are to serve me, in bed and out of it. That's
what we're going to work on today."
*****
The rest of the afternoon is spent on her comportment, demeanor,
and actions when she is subbing. My real interest is to see how
she responds when sexual gratification is not the immediate
goal. True, most of our time in these roles will probably be
spent having sex or building up to it, but if she wants to be
serious about this game, we need to go further. Obedience will
be the end in itself, not something she does because it will be
rewarded by an orgasm.
By the end of the day, I'm so proud of her that I can barely
contain myself. She's performed admirably, taking every
instruction perfectly. I glance over at her as I finish closing
up the apartment for the night. She's kneeling back on her
heels, legs spread, eyes lowered, waiting for my command. She's
supposed to use these "waiting" periods to concentrate on
putting aside her own wishes, focusing instead on her desire to
serve me. The dreamy, open look on her face makes me want to
scoop her up, lay her down on my bed, and devour her with
infinite tenderness.
So I do. This aspect of our relationship is going to have all
variations of lovemaking, from rough and wild to soft and slow.
Tonight it's sweet and gentle. I lavish kisses on her body as I
praise her generosity in giving herself like this. She opens
herself like a flower for me, spreading her pale limbs with
their rosy blush to embrace me, sighing and trembling with
unchecked emotion at my touch. I make love to her for what
seems like an endless time, feeling her shiver as I spill myself
into her body.
Finally I coax her to orgasm with my fingers, carefully timing
her climax with praise for her perfect submission. She kisses
my hand afterwards and curls up like a kitten against me before
promptly falling asleep, but I stay awake for a long time,
running my hands over her softly and marveling at my good
fortune.
********************
I wonder if it'd be all right if I touched myself. Just a
little. Just to take the edge off.
I sneak a sidelong glance at Mulder. He couldn't possibly know
I'm looking at him, but he suddenly turns his head and pins me
with his eyes. I melt back into my seat, feeling my skin flush
as that look sends memories of the evening flashing through me.
It was past six when Mulder made his move. We were probably
among the last people to leave the building--even at the FBI,
people leave promptly at five on Fridays. Except for us, of
course. Mulder had suggested we stay a little later to finish
up some paperwork, and I agreed in the hopes of clearing our
weekend for other activities. I was typing away at a report,
cheerful about the prospect of a free weekend but otherwise
unsuspecting, when he made his real plans for the evening quite
clear.
He crept up behind me, leaned over my shoulder as if to read the
screen--and I felt the smooth caress of silk around my throat.
My jaw dropped. We've been scrupulously careful about avoiding
any kind of unprofessional conduct in the office; it's been
bugged too many times for us to ever feel safe there, and we do
try to separate our work and personal lives. It never occurred
to me that he would start anything here. The act of putting on
my scarf is technically innocent, since it would be meaningless
to an observer, but to me it was as blatantly sexual as if he'd
walked up and fondled my breasts.
And it had the same effect. Concentration on the report became
impossible. All I could think about was the fabric at my neck,
stimulating me long after he had returned to his desk.
Lassitude spread through my body as my panties steadily became
damp.
I jumped when his hand covered mine--I hadn't heard him
approach. He guided my hand on the mouse, saving the file and
shutting down the computer.
His breath teased my ear like a kiss. "I'm taking you to dinner
now. We'll finish the report on Monday."
"Yes," I agreed vaguely. "Monday."
I let him guide me to his car and sat placidly while he drove.
He didn't ask me where I wanted to go, and it never occurred to
me that he should. I sat in the car, my skin humming, still
thinking about the kiss of silk at my neck. As he pulled into
the restaurant lot, I lifted my hand and stroked the end of the
scarf, brushing my erect nipple in the motion. It felt good.
I felt more than saw him glance at me. "That looks good on you,
baby."
Only then did I realize I wasn't just aroused--I had slipped
into a state of submission completely unawares. It surprised me
that I would react so profoundly to the single cue of the
scarf--we hadn't used it that often. But when I looked back at
the times we had, warmth pooled through me as I realized Mulder
took complete control of our lovemaking from the instant he put
it on me. Not just the lead, but control.
Whenever I wore it, the sex was peppered with commands and sweet
rewards when I obeyed. Gradually, he pushed our sex play beyond
what we've done before. He now freely demands oral sex, smiling
at the sight of me on my knees performing his favorite oral
technique. Once he had me wind the scarf around my breasts and
lift them, offering them to him to suck and tease. And even
though I'm shy about the position, he delights in having me bend
over a table or kneel on the floor and offer myself to be taken
from behind.
I loved it, loved all of it. Even in the short time we've been
doing this, I've discovered an odd, wonderful dichotomy of
freedom in my submission. I had repressed my sexual desires for
most of my adult life, afraid of what would happen if I
expressed them and hiding them from myself and my partners.
Instead I tried always to be demure and ladylike--embracing a
passivity of a different sort.
Not so with Mulder. He loves to see me wild and forbids me to
hold back. Mulder knew more about my preferences after a few
times dominating me than my previous lovers ever learned in an
"equal" relationship. He would have learned anyway, of course,
because that's what Mulder does. But it was easier for me to
tell him when he tied me up, kissed my lips, and ordered me to
narrate my every reaction, however small, as he explored my
body. My body belonged to him, he said, and it wasn't my place
to censor its needs. If my nipples ached to be pinched, my clit
yearned for his tongue, or my cunt wept for his cock, well then,
my lips existed to tell him that. He might ignore my body's
demands, of course, but he knew them better than any lover I've
ever had.
And he satisfied them better. He used his knowledge about my
body and mind to so thoroughly ensnare me in pleasure that my
very thoughts change when he puts on my scarf. I can't remember
how we got to the car after work or what he ordered for my
dinner, but the entire evening I've been intensely conscious of
the soft fabric around my neck and the hot throbbing between my
legs.
He has delighted in pushing and teasing me all night. It
started at dinner, as I sat only half-listening to his easy
conversation.
"...and so I told him we'd be *happy* to postpone the interview,
but it couldn't be Tuesday because that day we're meeting with
our IRS partners for the teambuilding workshop to promote better
cooperation among federal agencies. Turns out he can meet with
us Monday after all. I can see your nipples, by the way."
That jolted me out of my reverie. "What?"
"They want to be touched, don't they? I can see them all tight
and erect right through your blouse."
I'd removed my suit jacket when we went to dinner; it didn't
match the creamy silk now twined around my neck. The thin shell
underneath did a poor job of hiding that my nipples *were* rock
hard. I nodded cautiously.
"I want you to touch them."
I blinked at him in consternation. We were in a public place,
after all. But the restaurant was dark, we were in a secluded
corner, and I was seated with my back to the rest of the room.
He must have arranged that deliberately.
He simply watched me, wearing his best cool, pleasant
expression. He didn't need to say anything else. This was a
test, and we both knew it. The command was simply going to hang
in the air between us until I either obeyed it or asked to stop
the game.
In a move that would have sent my mother into fits, I set one
elbow on the table so my arm partially hid my body from anyone
who might pass by. Then I rested my other arm lengthwise on the
table, my hand just in reach of my breast. Goaded by the heat
in his eyes, I cautiously stroked my nipple.
"Harder. Pinch it."
I squeezed, feeling an electric jolt run through me.
"Very good. You may stop--for the moment." His eyes flicked
behind me, signaling the approach of the waiter with our
appetizer. Oysters, of course. Mulder doesn't see a need to be
subtle at these times.
"I want to see your nipples erect for the rest of the evening,"
he informed me when we were alone again, grinning wickedly at
the discomfort on my face. "I'll remind you when to pinch them
again."
The rest of the meal passed in a bizarre parody of normal.
Conversation (his chatter, my monosyllabic answers) stayed on
work and current events, but he kept me on a slow simmer the
whole time. The scarf alone wouldn't let me lose the arousal,
but having to tweak my nipples throughout the meal was pure
torture.
When the plates were cleared away, he started again.
"Your nipples are very pretty like that, and I like the blush on
your face. Are you wet?"
I wasn't sure whether to be ashamed or turned on. My body felt
no conflict, though. "Yes."
"Put your hand on your thigh. That's what I'd do if I were
sitting next to you. Run it up your leg."
I slid my hand over the fabric of my pantsuit as he watched my
face coolly.
"Where is your hand now?"
"Uh...my upper thigh."
He adopted a chiding expression. "I wouldn't stop there, you
know. Touch your clit."
I touched myself through the pants, catching my breath as my
clit twitched at the stimulation.
That cool, reserved smile was back. "That's better. Now rub
yourself in little circles, like I would."
I shut my eyes against his burning gaze for a second, stifling
my automatic protest, but he would have none of it.
"Open your eyes, baby." He waited until I met his gaze again,
and repeated gently, "Rub yourself. Touch your clit the way I
would."
Conflict swelled within me. I didn't want to masturbate in
public, even if the tablecloth and dim lights protected me from
discovery. I didn't want to do something so tawdry, something
that, under the circumstances, was very unlikely to give me any
pleasure.
But his eyes reminded me of the promises I had made to him.
They burned hot and expectant, waiting for me to live up to
those promises--and oh, how I wanted to see them glow with
approval.
I began moving my fingers in slow, light circles over my clit.
A gentle pleasure welled through me, not from the action itself,
but from yielding to him. He smiled at me with obvious pride
and the pleasure grew stronger--until the waiter suddenly
reappeared, making me gasp in surprise and chagrin.
The young man glanced at me in confusion, and I could feel my
cheeks burning anew. Mulder gave me a stern look before calling
the waiter's attention to himself. I ducked my head as Mulder
ordered coffee for us both, hoping that the dim light would hide
my flushed cheeks. I couldn't have said whether the heat
suffusing my face came from embarrassment or excitement.
When the waiter left, Mulder fixed his gaze on me again. "It's
amazing how much of this game is mental, isn't it? Now you're
learning what submission really is. It isn't in giving me your
body; it's in doing something that you want to resist, just
because I tell you to."
I could only nod silently, my fingers still tracing slow
circles. My heart was pounding with a mixture of fear that I
would be discovered and arousal at the audacity of my actions.
I was still embarrassed, but the feeling was becoming oddly
blunted, subdued by the pleasure of my own touch and the force
of Mulder's presence across the table.
He licked his lower lip sensually before speaking again. "I
know you aren't touching yourself like I would."
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
He leaned forward, speaking in a soft, intense whisper.
"Because if I were doing it, you wouldn't be so quiet. You'd be
panting with need."
I inhaled sharply as the image formed in my mind of Mulder
seated next to me, coolly driving me mad as he chatted idly with
the waiter. My head fell back as my sex clenched, sending a
wave of sensation through me. I whimpered, barely regaining
control as the waiter returned with our coffee. It was so wrong
to touch myself in front of him, but it felt so good....
When the boy left again, Mulder gave me a satisfied smile. "You
may stop now, sweetheart. Drink your coffee. You're going to
need the energy."
Stopping did nothing to alleviate the tension thrumming through
my body. If asked, I would have said that the excitement was
more nervous than erotic, but Mulder soon proved me wrong.
He politely offered me his arm when we left the restaurant and
walked me over to the passenger side of the car. On the pretext
of opening the door, he grabbed me. One arm wrapped around my
chest, pinning my arms to my sides. The other hand shot between
my legs, going straight to my clit. I gasped as pure desire,
hot and uncontrollable, flooded my body.
"As I said, you'd be making those noises if I were touching
you." His fingers moved just once in a slow, firm caress.
I gasped again, this time in surprise, as my body simply took
over. My hips started pumping against his hand of their own
accord, creating the friction I desperately wanted. My head
fell back against his chest as the pulsing in my clit made
thought nearly impossible.
He murmured, "God, you're shameless. I can feel how wet you are
right through your clothes."
I writhed, trapped in his hold, my heart pounding with
adrenaline. My mind cringed at our public exposure, but I
couldn't form a word of protest as the need spiraled through me,
building unbearably. I was whimpering helplessly, desperate to
climax.
His erection was hot against the small of my back, but his voice
was as cool as if we were discussing expense accounts. "I'm
going to let you come now because you have a long night ahead of
you. This is just to take the edge off. But you'd better hurry
before someone sees you like this."
I pumped against his hand frantically. Just as the sweep of
headlights indicated that another car was pulling into the lot,
I threw back my head and came. He rubbed me in soft circles,
prolonging the climax, shielding me from view with his body as
the car drove past us. Only when *he* was ready did he lift his
fingers, letting me collapse against his chest.
My mind reeled as he finally seated me in the car and shut the
door. He'd just brought me off in public, and I'd been
powerless to stop him.
He climbed into the driver's seat. Rather than starting the
engine, he leaned over and pulled me in for a kiss, our first of
the evening. One hand cupped the back of my head while the
other squeezed my breast before running down my body, slipping
between my legs again with a knowing touch. I moaned in
surprise as fresh arousal flared up in my belly.
He pulled his lips from mine, his fingers still on my clit.
"How did it feel to lose control like that? To be so turned on
you couldn't command your own body?"
I stared helplessly into his eyes. When he looks at me like
that, it's impossible to pull my gaze away. I gave him the only
answer possible.
"Good."
The voices of the couple in the other car approached. Mulder
deliberately released my head and lowered his hand to my breast.
Instead of complaining about our public place, I leaned into the
caress, as shameless as he wanted me to be. My body tingled as
his hands teased me, indifferent to our possible exposure.
His voice was soft but commanding. "That's what's in store for
you the rest of the night, baby. I command your body. It's out
of your control." A deep, scorching kiss. "That's the only
thing you're to think about on the way home."
So I'm thinking. Thinking about the raw power emanating from
him, thinking about the residual throb still pulsing in my sex.
Very slowly, I let my hand drift up my thigh.
"Hands in your lap."
I sneak another look at him, but his eyes are on the road. He's
smiling gently.
"Obedience, baby. Focus on obedience."
I finger my scarf again and focus, trying to escape the now-
constant ache by dissolving my will into his.
********************
As I guide Scully into her apartment, I'm awed by the soft,
dazed look on her face. I did that to her: I taught her to open
herself completely to my wishes and her own body's needs. She
has taken to submission beautifully, sinking into it so deeply
that she's seemed barely aware of her surroundings for most of
this evening.
I suggest that she refresh herself and prepare for the rest of
the evening while I do the same. When she disappears into the
bathroom, I retrieve my duffel bag from the trunk and change
into jeans and nothing else: the outfit I normally wear when
topping her. As I wait for her to return, I review my plans.
I've been keeping her tense and off-balance, starting right with
initiating the game in our office, the place where she is never
submissive. I wasn't certain that was a good idea, so I
deliberately waited until the workday was well over before
slipping the scarf around her neck. Then I returned to my own
desk, letting her imagination take over.
It was a very good idea. When I looked at her a few minutes
later, she was just sitting there, staring blankly at the
computer screen. Her cheeks were a delightful shade of pink. I
grin to myself as the thought brings to mind my other plans for
this evening. She doesn't know it yet, but her horizons are due
for a little expansion.
I led her from the office when it was time to go, taking her
through less-used corridors so we wouldn't encounter anyone.
She was perfectly docile during dinner, not even noticing when I
ordered on her behalf. I was so erect that it hurt when I made
her touch herself in front of the unsuspecting waiter. But the
best was definitely bringing her to orgasm in the parking lot
without a word of protest. She looked a little surprised that
I'd done it, but more relieved that I'd let her come.
I'm pushing her harder than I ever have before, blatantly
exercising my dominance over her. This is all part of the
broader plan for the evening. I want to up the voltage on our
games, encourage Scully to be a little more uninhibited. That
means going past her comfort level and doing things she hasn't
done before.
My particular goal for tonight is penetration. Scully loves
clitoral stimulation; she comes easily at my touch, under my
mouth, or by rubbing herself against my cock. While she finds
intercourse pleasurable, though, orgasms from it are another
matter. She's always found it difficult to climax when her
lover is inside her, and she confessed to me once that when she
masturbates, she never feels the urge to go beyond touching her
clit. So tonight is going to be all about penetration. I don't
intend to give her an iota of stimulation unless there's
something in her cunt.
But there's a broader goal, and that is letting her be wild.
Scully has some performance anxiety. She hides it well, but at
times I know she worries that she's not responsive enough or
skilled enough to satisfy me--as if her mere presence in my bed
weren't more than I ever hoped for.
The appeal of power games is the way they short-circuit her
inhibitions, proving that she can be wild and responsive to her
heart's delight--or rather, to my heart's delight. I'm
presenting sexual freedom to her as proof of my control. Things
she can't do if asked, she *will* do if forced. And so I can
repay her gift of submission by giving her pleasures she hasn't
previously been able to experience.
I think Scully also has trouble simply enjoying sex for its own
sake. Many women feel sex should only be combined with love,
and Scully's no exception. Intellectually, she believes nothing
two consenting adults do together is wrong, but emotionally she
has some lingering guilt about just having a good fuck. My
guess is this tendency was really exacerbated by her last two
relationships, especially the one with Daniel Waterson. Dating
a married man is so contrary to Scully's deep-rooted integrity
that she must have preferred to think it was all about love, not
physical gratification. And even though Jack Willis wasn't
married, a student-teacher relationship breaks social rules, if
not actual ones. Scully wouldn't do that just for cheap
thrills.
So I think in her past two relationships, she couldn't choose on
her own simply to enjoy sex. That must have contributed to her
domination fantasies, and her guilt about a healthy desire
turned into a fetish. Sex with love is okay, but sex for the
sheer fun of it must be forced on her.
That's exactly what I'm going to. Tonight is going to be a
decadent, hedonistic night of pleasure for the sake of pleasure
alone. She might not accept it when we make love as equals, but
tonight she'll give in to the cravings of her body, animal
instincts that don't care about who is touching her, or why.
Or in this case, what. We're moving to the next stage now.
Since beginning these games, we haven't done anything really new
in our lovemaking, although I'd never previously tied her to the
bed before fucking her or simply ordered her to suck my cock.
But tonight there will be new intensity to my demands and new
elements in our play. Specifically, she's going to be
introduced to the first in a series of sex toys I hope to use on
her. And with her.
The dildo I've chosen for tonight is a bit smaller than my cock,
but hard and inflexible. Made of acrylic, it's not designed to
appear realistic; rather, it looks like a series of increasingly
larger crystal balls fused together. I don't want it to feel
like there's a man's penis inside her. I want her to know she's
spreading her legs and welcoming a foreign object into her body
because it's going to make her feel good. I want to make her
revel in the fact that sexual pleasure isn't always about the
joining of bodies for mutual satisfaction. Tonight, it's about
pushing her buttons, manipulating her until she begs for release
and doesn't care how she gets it.
She emerges from her bedroom with her hair brushed and wearing
fresh lipstick--Scully would insist on touching up her lipstick
before boarding a lifeboat to flee a sinking ship--but with the
same vague look on her face. She is, as I instructed,
completely nude.
I step behind her, pulling her against my body, and push my
clothed erection against the small of her back. She trembles as
I remove her scarf.
"Lift up your hands for me, sweetheart."
Obediently she stretches out her arms. I wrap the silk around
her wrists, twining it over and over in a figure eight between
them before knotting it. She'll have some use of her hands, but
it will be restricted.
Her eyes flick to the canvas bag on the couch, the one that I
usually carry her cuffs in. Since I've already restrained her
hands, she must be wondering what else I'm planning.
Reaching into it, I pull out the dildo. Her eyes widen even
before I speak with deliberate coarseness.
"I'm going to do you with this tonight. Would you like that?"
Not surprisingly, she shakes her head.
I lean in and kiss her until she whimpers. "That's what I
thought you'd say. But we agreed on this. You obey me no
matter what, don't you?"
Her head lolls as if it's too heavy for her neck to support.
"Yes, Master," she whispers.
My cock jumps at her unprompted introduction of that term. I'd
suspected that was what was going on in her brain, but the
confirmation is pretty damned hot.
"That's very good, baby. I like hearing those pretty lips"--I
touch them with the toy in my hand--"call me 'Master.'"
A little tension goes out of her body, as if she'd been afraid I
might reject the title. As if I would. My mind is already
working on how to incorporate this new twist and, by the time
the evening is over, the term will come naturally to her lips
when she addresses me. Which is, after all, what she wants.
"Tell me, baby, who do those lips belong to?"
She gasps as I run the smooth head over them. "You, Master."
With my free hand, I cup her breast and squeeze it possessively.
"Who do these sweet breasts belong to?"
She leans into my touch. "You, Master."
Still holding the dildo to her painted lips, I slide my other
hand down to cover her sex. She groans as my middle finger
parts her wet labia and just touches the entrance to her body.
"It aches down here, doesn't it? Feels empty?"
She sways. "Yes."
"Who does this needy pussy belong to?"
A shiver. "You, Master."
"Tell me."
"You, Master. My needy pussy belongs to you."
Scully has made great progress in talking dirty even outside a
scene, and it's a hell of a turn-on. My new favorite
masturbatory aid is the memory of Special Agent Dana Scully
gasping out how well I filled her cunt as I bent her over a
desk, fully dressed in her work clothes with her silk panties
and pantyhose in shreds around her ankles, and rammed into her
again and again. We did it on my desk at home, of course, but
it was still the realization of a long-cherished fantasy.
"That's right. So I can pinch it, squeeze it, lick it, or fuck
it with anything I want to, can't I?"
She nods in defeat. "Yes, Master. Anything you want."
"Good girl. I like to see you give in to me even when you're
trembling."
I stroke her clit lightly to reward her obedience. Her lips
part on a moan and I slip the tip of the rod into her mouth.
"A little fear makes the sensations so much more...intense,
don't you think?"
Her eyes flutter closed and she sucks softly on the tip of the
plastic phallus. Just for a moment, but that's all the
permission I need to keep going.
I lean forward to whisper into her ear. "Don't worry,
sweetheart. You're going to love it."
She whimpers.
Pulling the toy from her lips, I lift her hands by the silk
binding them together and give it to her. She looks more
apprehensive than I would have expected.
"Have you ever used one of these before?"
She shakes her head, her big eyes fixed on the toy. It's a
little shorter than the length of my cock, narrower at the top
and widening to a bit larger at the bottom. She shouldn't have
any qualms about taking it in, but perhaps it looks intimidating
to a novice. I'm a little surprised to learn she is unfamiliar
with dildos. I know the stodgy older men she dated wouldn't be
likely to use toys, but the boyfriend she had in med school was
no choirboy.
"What about a vibrator?"
"Yes, Master. But just on my clit." It must have been good--
her eyes have gone glassy at the memory.
"So nothing like this has ever been inside you? You've never
taken anything but a cock or fingers or a tongue into your
body?"
She shakes her head. How her cornflower-blue eyes could look so
innocent right now, I'll never know. But they do. Tonight
we're moving into virgin territory. That turns me on more than
I'd anticipated.
"Well, this is your best friend for tonight, sweetheart. You're
going to become *very* intimately acquainted with it."
Her eyes get even wider.
I pitch my voice lower as I continue. "It feels so good when I
use your body that I forget to watch you. So tonight, you get
that instead of my cock. You're going make love to it with your
sweet mouth, you're going to take it into your needy body, and
you're going to come on it. Does that turn you on?"
She just blinks at me, her hands clutching the base weakly.
"Answer me, sweetheart. You know you can't hide anything from
me. Does it turn you on to picture me watching you sucking it,
screwing it, getting off on a plastic toy between your legs?"
Painting those verbal images for Scully always does it. "Yes,
Master. But I'm nervous."
I step in closer and run my hands over her coolly, possessively,
as if I were the proud owner of a very fine racecar.
"Oh, baby, that doesn't matter. This little body is so wanton
that very soon you won't care. When you follow my commands it
will make you feel so good, you'll beg to come."
Her body relaxes a little as she opens herself to my will. I
love to see her like this.
"We'll start with your mouth, I think."
She lifts the pseudo-cock to her lips and licks the tip. I nod
approvingly and step back. Shyly, she takes it into her mouth,
sliding her tongue over it. That shy expression always makes me
crazy. I love to make it give way to raw lust and then orgasmic
abandon.
"Doesn't that feel good on your tongue? Think of how it's going
to feel in your body."
Her eyes close again for a moment. When they open I sit back on
the couch, deliberately parting my legs to give her a good view
of the bulge in my jeans. She drops to her knees, whether to
keep my crotch on eye level or because that's how she's now
accustomed to performing oral sex, I don't know.
I stroke myself through the denim as I watch her fellate the
plastic rod. Her eyes fix on my hand and she begins sucking
with more enthusiasm.
"Oh, you like that, do you?"
She nods emphatically.
Unzipping my pants, I tell her, "Do a good job, and I'll give
you more."
I free my cock from its confines and grip it lightly, watching
her expectantly. She moves her mouth over the dildo again,
watching my hand. I stroke myself in time with her actions. My
moan is echoed by hers.
My hand synchronizes with her mouth in an erotic pas de deux.
She quickly loses her shyness as she sucks and licks the toy as
if she were touching me. As I match my movements to hers, I
swear I can feel her little tongue as she runs it teasingly up
the shaft.
The tightness in my balls builds rapidly--unlike Scully, I
didn't experience the release of orgasm in the restaurant
parking lot. I'm grunting as I thrust into my fist, regretting
that I have implicitly given her control over our pace.
Suddenly she lifts her eyes to meet mine, a look of feral lust
on her face. She gives one last lick up the shaft and engulfs
the toy in her mouth.
I come with a muffled shout, intensely aware of her eyes on me.
It's a few moments before I can focus on her again. She's still
kneeling there, sucking lightly on the plastic tip. She gives a
soft moan when I meet her eyes--whether of desire or
disappointment, I don't know. I guess it's pretty clear now
that I'm serious about fucking her with the dildo only.
I catch my breath and clean myself up with a towel I pull from
the duffel bag. She's still on her knees. My chest swells with
pride at her sweet, docile patience as I join her on the floor.
I reach out to tweak a nipple casually and she moans. Watching
me get off has made her hot.
I know the feeling.
I retrieve the dildo from her unresisting hands. "That was very
good, sweetheart. Now, I believe I promised you something else
tonight. Spread your legs a bit more."
She complies quietly, still watching me. I move the toy down
between her legs, stopping when it is a few inches from her wet
sex to admire the sight. The clear plastic looks amazingly
phallic as I hold it poised to enter her. Her eyes drop,
staring at it.
"Open yourself for me."
Startled, she focuses on my face again. I pause. Scully likes
the commands to be repeated, likes to feel the bonds of my
control pull closer and tighter around her until she's entangled
inextricably in her submission, but this is new for us. She
could be having second thoughts.
"What color is the light, baby?"
She is silent for so long that I'm afraid I've pushed her too
far, but finally she lets her breath out on a sigh. "Green."
I don't change my tone. She isn't upset by a threat in my
voice, but it doesn't do anything for her either; a threat
implies she can disobey. What makes her melt is a voice so soft
and assured that she knows she has no choice.
"Then move your hand down to your pussy"--she does so awkwardly
because her hands are still bound together--"and open yourself
for me."
She slides the index and middle fingers of her left hand to her
labia and parts them with a wet smack.
"That's better." I bring the dildo to her lips again, holding
it lengthwise against them. She dutifully parts her lips and
presses her tongue to the shaft. I move it back and forth,
twisting it to be certain every bit is again coated with her
saliva. She shivers as the graduated balls bump over her
tongue.
"Now keep your eyes on me."
As her eyes meet mine obediently I lower the rod from her mouth,
bringing it to where her fingers still hold her labia open for
me. She gasps as it breaches her entrance, a heartbreaking
vulnerability in her eyes. Keeping my expression implacable, I
begin to press the rod gently but firmly into her body. She
gasps again as each ball slides in, giving her the full
sensation of its increasing thickness.
"Squeeze around it. Feel how hard it is?"
"Yes, Master."
Oh, I do like the sound of that. I twist it a bit, just to hear
her whimper.
She's breathing hard by the time the toy is halfway in, moaning
softly as I rock it to tease her. Her forehead is creased in
confusion. She likes the fullness and pressure within her, but
can't accept that she's deriving such pleasure from an inanimate
object. The conflict on her face is beautiful.
I kiss her hard, pushing my tongue roughly into her mouth. When
her body softens and leans against mine, I pull the rod out and
thrust it in firmly. She grunts.
Breaking the kiss, I nibble my way over to her ear. I tongue
the delicate shell, making her shiver, before whispering, "On
your hands and knees."
She leans forward to rest on her elbows, making a funny squeak
as I push the toy in another notch. When she is in place I
slide between her open legs, lying on my back so she's
straddling my face. Propping my head up with a few throw
pillows from the sofa, I pull her legs wider apart and breathe
on her clit. Her whole body is quivering in anticipation.
I pull the dildo out a few notches and push it back in. She
chokes back a moan. I repeat the tease again, getting a louder
moan in response. On the third time I lick her clit, just once,
as I slide the rod in.
"Uh!"
I twist the toy gently. "I love doing this to you, baby. I
could keep it up for hours."
Her groan is gratifyingly desperate. I smirk to myself, glad
that she can't see my expression.
"And I want you to hold still while I do it."
*****
I'm shaking like a leaf as Mulder performs that endless, slow
tease. The acrylic shaft feels odd--smooth and absolutely
unyielding, not like his penis, with its baby-soft skin over its
inner hardness. Feeling him put something foreign inside me
after I protested is more than a physical invasion. My will
feels soft and weak, unimportant next to his, and my pride is
irrelevant. The resulting arousal is almost enough to make me
forget the strangeness of the penetration, but not quite.
Now he's pushed the dildo in deep enough that he has access to
my clit. He sets up a teasing pattern of licking, then
thrusting, licking, then thrusting. Soon I'm whimpering,
internally begging for more attention to my clit. My body aches
for the release of orgasm, but how can I come with that thing in
me?
I gasp in frustration when he pulls his mouth away.
"What do you want?"
What do I want? "God, I want to come. I want you to take it
out of me and lick me until I come."
Another gentle thrust. "Of course you do, sweetheart. But that
doesn't matter, does it? You know it's not your decision."
I moan softly. The more powerless he makes me, the more turned
on I get.
I obey his instructions to remain motionless until a sudden prod
at my clit makes my hips jerk, the inadvertent movement taking
the toy deeper. I let out an unrefined grunt.
"I told you to hold still." He delicately traces the entrance
to my vagina with his tongue, caressing the flesh as it clenches
around the intruder.
"I--oh!--I can't."
"You can't, hmm?" His words are muffled and punctuated by soft
lapping sounds as he eats me out. "You're always so strong, so
disciplined, but because I'm licking you, you can't control your
own body?"
Tears spring to my eyes as shame suddenly overwhelms me. God,
does he have to rub it in? He's taunted me with my lack of
control all night: as I touched myself in the restaurant, as I
came in the parking lot. Does he think I'm proud of these needs
that compel me to humble myself like this?
A particularly skilled stroke forces a pleading whine from my
throat.
No, I realize. He knows I'm not proud. And he knows his words
make me hot, make me melt, make me want to give him anything he
demands. He knows I'm embarrassed--and he's giving me exactly
what I want.
Just as he said he would. Now I realize what he meant when he
told me this would be hard.
"I asked you a question."
The question. Control. Can I control my body when he touches
me?
"No, Master. I can't." I shiver at the eroticism of my
admission.
A flurry of licks on my throbbing clit. "I know you can't,
baby. But I can."
His words send another rush of heat through me and my hips
thrust, instinctively fucking that strange invader in my cunt.
He smacks my ass casually before pushing it deeper.
"Don't move."
Curious what he'll do next, I move again. He spanks me harder
this time. I jolt at the sensation and feel a new gush of
wetness between my legs. He chuckles in satisfaction and gives
me a few more lazy thrusts.
"This turns you on, doesn't it? I can see your muscles
squeezing it. You like being fucked by this toy. Or maybe you
like being spanked?"
I squirm at the sheer arousal his words evoke and he slaps me
again.
"I told you not to move. If you want to come, you'll do as I
tell you. More than that, baby. You won't come until you give
in to me completely."
God, his words make me wet and that plastic rod is hard, so hard
within me, and his probing tongue makes me want to move *so*
badly but the smack! of his hand on my ass reminds me to hold
still....
And he forces the dildo in deeper and firmly licks my clit
again. I jerk and another slap reminds me of his command, then
another, and another. They make me whimper as I rock myself on
that hard intruder until his third warning finally penetrates my
mind. I'm not supposed to move. I'm supposed to hold myself
here, head down, knees spread, ass in the air, because that's
what he wants.
What *he* wants. I touch the fabric round my wrists and a
blanket of peace falls over me. My body is still quivering with
excitement, but the need to pump against the dildo as if I were
making love to a man fades. I'm not making love to Mulder. I'm
being made love to. I'm also being fucked, used, and
subordinated to his will. All I have to do is obey.
My head falls down to rest on my arms and I feel the weight of
my body force the dildo in another notch as my legs spread
wider, making me sink down further. He hums in satisfaction as
he recognizes my surrender.
"That's very good, sweetheart. I can see you giving in to me.
But I still want to see your ass turn a pretty shade of pink."
He slaps me again before twisting the shaft. "Tighten your
muscles, baby."
Obediently I tighten my vaginal muscles. He slides out from
between my legs, caressing my wet sex one more time before he
kneels behind me. He pauses long enough to make me squirm in
anticipation before his hand falls again, stinging my ass
sharply. My clit throbs as he begins spanking me steadily,
using both hands now.
"Keep squeezing."
Realizing what he means, I begin a rhythmic working of my
muscles, fucking myself with the toy buried in my cunt as my
cheeks heat up under his punishment.
No. He's not punishing me. He's spanking me because he wants
to, and that's reason enough. It doesn't occur to me now to
want anything except for him to use me as he likes.
The skin is burning where his blows fall. I moan as I keep
tightening and releasing my muscles, shivering in excitement as
they squeeze around the hard plastic. I don't mind the strange
feel of it anymore; the odd smoothness is incredibly exciting.
I'm in an altered state now, where the pressure of the thick
shaft in my vagina, the sting of his blows, and the swipes he
gives to my clit all blend into the dark excitement holding me
in thrall.
His slaps are becoming less frequent and he fondles my rear
possessively after each blow. His voice comes in my ear again.
"You like that toy in your pussy, don't you? I told you that
you would."
I moan against my bound hands. "Oh, yes." I can't remember why
I doubted him.
The slaps finally stop and I sigh in relief. The dildo shifts
again as he reaches for the base and begins to thrust it in and
out of my body.
"Yeah, I love watching you get fucked. Watching you display
yourself for me, watching a toy drive in and out of you from
every angle. Maybe next time I'll get you one that vibrates.
I'd like to see you get yourself off with a vibrator so thick
that it feels like you can't take it in. But you will, because
I tell you to."
I can picture myself as he would see me, sitting on the bed
naked except for my scarf. My legs are bent at the knees with
the soles of my feet pressing together to keep my thighs as far
open as possible. I'm slowly pushing the large, buzzing
vibrator into my body, rocking slightly as it fills me fuller
than I ever have been before.
"Of course," he muses, "you're so pretty when you're tied down.
I'd spread your legs so wide that your lips would open for me,
showing that hungry little mouth begging to be filled."
The scene in my mind changes. Now I'm bound to the bed, straps
pulling my knees up and away from my body until my gaping,
glistening sex is completely exposed.
"And I'd fill it. But I wouldn't neglect your clit." I cry out
as he strokes my clit with his free hand. "I'd get you a nice
toy that teases it too. I'd stroke in and out of you, making
you burn with need."
His hands mimic his words as he moves the dildo while plucking
gently at my clit. My ragged breaths are loud as I wait for him
to speak again, hanging on his every word.
"Can you picture it, baby? I wouldn't turn it on at first. I'd
just fuck you, letting you feel that hard, smooth toy inside
you, stroking at your clit with every thrust. Then, when I
decided you were ready, I'd bury it in you and turn it on high.
I bet you'd scream."
My body arches as I imagine the sudden sensory overload. He's
pumping me harder and pinching my clit more firmly as his words
paint those unbearably erotic images.
"Can you feel it? Buzzing away inside you, flicking at your
clit even faster than my tongue can. And you tied down the
whole time. I wouldn't blindfold you. I'd prop your head on a
pillow so you could look down and watch me screw you senseless,
see your body jerk and writhe helplessly as that little toy
drives you crazy. I might have to gag you so the neighbors
don't hear you screaming."
There's something so decadent about being fucked like he
describes. I can see his face, placid and disinterested as I
writhe and try to impale myself on that tireless little machine,
controlled not even by his will but by a mindless object that
hums away, indifferent to its effect on my over-stimulated body.
Even as my fantasy self struggles in her bonds, my body has gone
nearly limp. I feel a trickle of moisture down my inner thigh
as his hands work me with consummate skill.
He isn't finished yet. "And you'd love it. You'd part your
legs mindlessly for it and offer yourself. Because when you're
like this, baby, all you know is submission. My voice, my
fingers, my cock, my toys--you'll yield to anything that can
make you come."
God, how does he know what I'm thinking? His expert fingers
play me like an instrument, coaxing just the response he wants
until the need suddenly explodes within me, forcing me onto the
plateau where orgasm beckons if only he will give it. I begin
to beg brokenly, helplessly. Dignity is irrelevant here. All
that matters is that only he can give me what I need more than
my next breath.
"Please oh please please please..."
"Please what, baby?"
"Please let me come."
"Let you come, hmm?" I don't know exactly what he's doing to my
clit, but it pulls a short scream from me. "Let you come like
this?"
I lift my head enough to look up at my body. With Mulder still
kneeling behind me I can't see much of him, but I certainly can
see his hands. One holds the base of the dildo, still moving it
steadily in me. The other has captured my clit, squeezing it
between his first and second fingers as he rubs at me rapidly.
I imagine that I can see the flesh pulsing as it sends waves of
aching need through me.
The sight of those seemingly disembodied hands tormenting me is
too much. Panting, I let my head fall back on my forearms.
"Yes, Master. Please let me come like this." An extra spike of
arousal pierces me as the title rolls off my tongue without
conscious thought.
"Or like this?"
He pulls the dildo out of me and forcefully replaces it with
what feels like three fingers. Now the smooth acrylic head is
rubbing my clit. I groan in ecstasy.
"Yes! Yes, please."
His voice nearly growls in my ear. "Which is it, baby? How
should I make you come?"
I can't think. He ties me up and teases me like this so I don't
*have* to think. All I know is that I need.
"Please. Whatever you want. Please just make me come."
Satisfaction radiates from him as he takes his fingers out
again, leaving me screamingly empty. Moving me like a rag doll,
he flips me over onto my back and spreads my legs wide. My
bound hands fall limply above my head.
"That was the right answer. Good girl."
His lips cover my clit just as the dildo impales me; there's no
other way to describe the feel of it driving into my unresisting
vagina. I squeal as he forces the last, thickest ball at the
base into me and uses the hard rod to hold my jerking hips in
place as his tongue lashes my clit. A few slaps remind me to
remain still while he drives me mad. Body screaming for
release, I return to my broken pleading.
"Please please oh please..."
He hums, his tongue prodding me harder, pulls the dildo out a
few inches and pushes it home.
"AAH! Please!"
He mumbles into my overheated flesh, "Please, what?"
"MASTER! Please let me come"--I sob as he pulls it out and rams
into me again--"let me come, Master!"
God, he's driving me higher and higher and he's going to make me
come with that hard toy inside me and I love it loveitloveit
getting so tight around it...
..."Oh GOD!" I'm coming on it! "Oh!" He's still licking and I'm
coming coming "OH!" hard squeezing coming hard licking coming
hard...
"Ooh! Ooohhhh!"
Finally the convulsions fade and I lie panting, legs sprawled,
as he slows the motion of his hand. His voice comes smug in my
ear.
"We can do that again sometime, you know. All you have to do is
get on your hands and knees, lift your pretty ass, and say
'Please, Master, fuck me with the dildo.'"
"Ah!" A last spasm takes me as I picture myself doing just
that. He captures my mouth, swallowing my cry as he twists the
shaft one more time.
When he finally lets me go, I'm weak and limp. I don't think I
could move a muscle. He lets me rest for a while before
touching my face. His fingers are wet with my juices.
"How do you feel, baby?"
I love that endearment. "Tired, Master. Good."
He gently pulls the dildo out of my body. I notice that my
thighs are damp and sticky.
"I'm going to clean up," he tells me. "I'll be right back."
I lie on the floor, feeling peaceful but drained and empty.
Suddenly, nameless emotion swells through me with an
overwhelming force. It tightens my throat, rendering me
speechless as he returns and kneels beside me. When he starts
to bathe me gently with a wet cloth, the tenderness is too much.
I burst into tears.
"Scully! Are you all right?" He drops the cloth and pulls me
into his lap.
I shake my head, rejecting the name he called me as the tears
flow faster. "Yes, Master. I don't know why I'm crying."
He touches my vagina carefully. "Are you hurt? Sore?"
I sigh at the oddly soothing touch. "No, Master."
He starts to untie my wrists, but I shake my head once more.
"Please, no." If he does, I'll have to be myself again, and I'm
not ready for that.
He stops, returning to petting my sex. His cool fingers are
soothing on the hot, overstimulated flesh. Face tender, he
slips a finger gently into my vagina and I sigh in relief.
There's no arousal from his action, but his soft repossession of
me grounds me even as I sob harder. I curl into his chest and
let the storm take me.
*****
I shift awkwardly, settling Scully in my lap. Keeping one hand
between her legs, I wrap my other arm tighter around her
trembling shoulders as she weeps. I let her go, murmuring
soothing nonsense words, calling her "baby" and "sweetheart."
She called me "Master," so she wants to stay in scene. And in
scene, I take care of her.
This sudden flood of emotion doesn't surprise me--actually, I
was waiting for it. I would never call Scully "repressed," but
most of the time she does keep things bottled up. I expected
that eventually, the vulnerability she embraces here might
loosen her tight hold on her emotions. I'm just a little
surprised it came out so openly.
I keep whispering to her. "I told you this stirred up emotions.
This is it, sweetheart. Cry it out. Those tears are going to
wash away all your fear, all your tension, going to leave you so
clean and peaceful. I'm here. Nothing bad will ever happen
when you give yourself to me like this. Ever. Let it go."
It's a long time before she cries herself out, but I just rock
her, heedless of the stiffness growing in my legs. Maybe I
should remember that the next time I have her on her knees for
an extended period.
Finally her tears stop. I hold her tight as I ask, "Feel better
now?"
Her voice is soft but clear. "Yes. I don't know why I started
crying. It just--it just happened."
Carefully I withdraw my finger from her body and stand up,
lifting her in my arms and carrying her to the bedroom.
"It's all right. That happens sometimes in a scene. Sometimes
you just find catharsis."
She looks at me as I place her on the bed, mild surprise in her
eyes. "Catharsis. Yes. That's it exactly."
I lean over and kiss her forehead. "Will you be okay if I get
ready for bed? I'll be right back."
Her eyes are already closed. "Yes, Master. Thank you for
taking care of me."
I stop in mid-motion, stunned, before whispering gruffly, "I'll
always take care of you, baby. I love you."
It doesn't take me three minutes to clean up the living room and
shut off the lights, but when I return she's already fast
asleep. As I undress I look at her hands, still bound in the
silk. I debate removing it, but decide let it go. She'll have
no trouble releasing the knot if she wakes in the night.
I turn out the light and climb into bed, cuddling her close.
She sighs softly. Asleep, she seems small and fragile. Her
fair skin and delicate features are almost ethereally beautiful
in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
'Thank you for taking care of me.' The phrase runs through my
brain over and over again. Those are words I never expected to
hear from Scully in any context. I never before realized how
badly I wanted to.
I'm gently tracing the soft fabric around her wrists when she
opens one eye. "Y' all right, Mul'er?" she mumbles around a
yawn.
I give her a squeeze. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just planning what
I'm going to do to you next time."
"Mmm." Her eye closes again as she snuggles into my chest.
"Did you like it tonight, Mul'er? I did. Never felt like that
before."
Her words fill me with satisfaction and determination to repeat
the experience. "I loved it, baby. And that was just the
beginning. You're *really* going to like what comes next."
"Yeah," she murmurs. "I think I probably will."
She sighs again and slips back into sleep. I give her forehead
one last, feather-light kiss.
"You will, baby. I promise."
End "A Gift of Silk II"
*************************
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