Bastinado
Fandom: XF
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner
Email: elerisea@hotmail.com
Archive: Persuader's and anywhere else, just let me know where
Summary: The consequences of running.
Warning: BDSM
Notes: bas·ti·na·do: a beating or blow with a stick, usually on the soles of the feet, especially as a method of punishment.
He is a runner, running towards and away from many things. Towards answers and dangerous situations. Away from lies and commitments and friends. It defines him, shapes his decisions. Running is what has led him to his current situation.
He is on his knees, his chest and arms draped over a leather-clad table. Padded cuffs hold his wrists and arms in place. Modified stocks bind his ankles tight. A silken blindfold covers his eyes. He breathes deeply as he awaits his Master's pleasure.
Heavy footsteps sound behind him as his Master moves into position. The *swish* of a switch cutting through the air gives the bound man an idea of what is to come. His muscles tighten as he tries to anticipate the first blow. Nothing happens for several long minutes and he subconsciously starts to relax.
The first lick is pure fire across the balls of his feet. He gasps loudly as his body tenses once more. The strikes come fast, but not hard. The tender area and the thinness of the switch are enough to cause massive stinging, but no real damage. After a dozen of such strips, he starts to cry out with each strike, his composure fleeing.
Interspersed with the strikes, his Master is speaking to him in a low, compelling voice. About not going blindly into danger. About letting your those who care for him help him when he needs it. About discussing what he is feeling before it gets him into trouble. About standing in one place and allowing others to support him once in a while. About love...
The switch dances across his feet, hitting a slightly different area each time. Across the ball, down the arch, up to the heel with a minutely harder stroke. Tears stream down his face as he withstands the punishment and listens to his Master.
The strikes end and his wrists and ankles are removed from their restraints. He feels himself lifted into the air as strong arms hold him tight. Moments later, he is deposited onto a bed, face down. A cool, damp cloth glides over his sweat-drenched skin. His gasping sobs subside, as a warm hand rubs soothing circles on his back.
"Master?"
"Yes, Fox?"
"I'll try not to do that again."
Arms enfold him and he rests his head on his Master's broad chest.
"That is all I ask, Fox - that you try."
"It's just so hard sometimes... I never know who to trust..."
"If everyone else abandons you, you will always have me. I will always help you. I will always believe you. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Master. I know."
"Rest now."
A cool sheet is drawn up over the two men. He snuggles into his Master's chest, feeling safe and protected. And loved.