County Seat

by DiAnn



E-mail: scarlet679@hotmail.com

Rating: NC17 - SLASH

Category: Pure Trash /Discipline / m/m Slash/ Threesome

Warning: Mulder / Skinner Slash.

If you don't like this kind of thing, or you are underage, go somewhere else . . . Please! I don't want to hear from you and I don't want to hear from your Mama.

Spoiler: None

Summary: Scully and Skinner once again rescue Agent Mulder - almost.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder, Skinner or anyone else from the X-Files. I am borrowing them without permission and am obviously not receiving money for this stuff. We all know who they really belong to, CC, Fox and lots of other people but again, not me.



Hoover Building
Office of Assistant Director Skinner

"Come in, Agent Scully, have a seat."

Dana Scully moved to sit in the chair she usually occupied when meeting with her boss, Assistant Director Skinner. She crossed her hands in her lap and looked up waiting patiently for further directives.

Skinner sighed as he watched to completely professional air settle around the female agent. Why couldn't the other one be more like this.

"I'll get right to the point, Agent Scully, do you know where you partner is at the moment?"

"Yes sir. He's on vacation, I believe he said something about going to visit Graceland again."

The nerve in Skinner's left jaw twitched, "Well Agent Mulder is most definitely in Tennessee, just not Memphis. He's in the small town of Wickensburg, which also happens to be the Jefferson County seat, and is at the this very moment a guest in their jail."

"Is he all right?"

"The local sheriff, a Claude Wickens, has assured me that Agent Mulder is unharmed, for the moment."

"For the moment, sir?"

"It seems that due to an obscure law still on the books in Wickensburg, those convicted of being a common nuisance can still be publicly whipped."

Scully sucked in a shocked gasp.

"I see I don't have to tell you just who is considered a common nuisance in Wickensburg. Agent Mulder is due for correction tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m."

Scully rose from her chair, "I'm going to Tennessee, sir."

"Dana," Skinner motioned for her to sit back down. "I think you should let me take care of this myself. If I'm unable to stop what is about to happen, I don't think Agent Mulder would want you there to see his punishment carried out. I know you wouldn't want to make this any harder for him than it already is going to be."

"Sir, I am a doctor. Agent Mulder may need medical attention and I plan to be there to give it to him. Also, if we are successful in stopping this ridiculous travesty of justice, I plan to make sure he can't sit down for a week."

"Ex . . .excuse me?"

"You needn't look so shocked, sir. How do you think I've worked with Mulder all these years. He's felt the backside of my grandmother's hairbrush more than once, let me tell you."

"You . . .you spank him? Why didn't you tell me."

"Well it's hardly by the book, sir. And once I found how effective it was in controlling my partner's more venturesome tendencies, I wasn't about to risk losing such a valuable tool."

"I wouldn't have stopped you! I could have used it too."

"With Mulder, sir, it's every man for himself. Besides you control him in other ways."

"I do?"

"Of course. He admires you, sir. He doesn't want to lose your respect. One growl from you and he often times straightens right up. It's only when he refuses to be deterred by either of us that he ends up sobbing over my knee."

"You make him cry?"

"Every time, sir. My grandmother's hairbrush is highly effective on an unprotected bottom, no matter the age of the miscreant. And usually by the time we've come to that extreme measure, Mulder is feeling so guilty he needs to get it out. He's really very sensitive."

"And as mean as a junkyard dog when he's pushed into a corner."

Scully chuckled, "Yes, that too. He's a very complicated man, sir."

"Agent Scully, are you sleeping with your partner?"

Scully raised one delicate eyebrow, looking around the room nervously.

"The office is clean, Scully. It won't go any further, I just . . ."

Scully considered the man across the desk from her for a long moment before she smiled, "Every chance I get, sir."

Her smiled widened at the look of disappointment that flashed momentarily in the dark brown eyes.

"Of course I could always use some help with that as well."

Skinner nearly choked, "Wh . . .what?"

"Let's just say that Agent Mulder is open to extreme possibilities, sir." She stared deeply into the shocked brown eyes of her direct supervisor. "And so am I."

She waited as Skinner just sat there staring at her with his mouth open. "I'm an trained investigator, sir. I've seen the way you look at him. It's hardly a new experience for me when someone finds my beautiful partner attractive."

"Does . . .does he know?"

"Mulder? Not likely, sir. He can be a bit obtuse when it comes to his own appeal. He thinks you want me."

"I . . .I . . . I . . ."

Scully's smile brightened, "And I feel the same way, sir. What say we go save my wayward partner's pretty little ass yet again, then you can help me give it a good workout in more ways than one."

"Agent Scully!"

Dana chuckled as she rose from her chair, striding purposefully toward the door without a backward glance. She had no doubt in her mind that her hunky boss was obediently stumbling along behind her.

The man was as transparent as tissue paper. Of course she could forgive him his momentary fugue. It wasn't everyday you found out that not one, but two of your favorite wet dreams were indeed going to end up in your bed. Her smile vanished. One of them with a very sore bottom.



Wickensburg, TN
Six Hours Later

By the time they reached Wickensburg, Skinner seemed to have completely recovered from his earlier shock. In fact, the man looked almost . . .chipper. That was going to throw Mulder for a loop in and of itself.

The town sat at the bottom of a small valley. As Skinner and Scully drove down the hill, they got a complete view of Wickensburg. It was amazingly small. One row of well maintained stone buildings on one side of the street, a restaurant and a park on the other, the rest consisted of side streets filled with small, neat houses. They had passed the only motel and gas station on the way in town.

The sheriff's office was housed in one of the stone buildings. As they got out of the car and moved to the sidewalk, Skinner felt his agent nudge him with her elbow. When he looked down she was pointing toward the park and the large sturdy whipping post that stood like an angry sentinel at the center of the grassy space.

Sheriff Wickens was himself no surprise. Big, well over six foot tall and at one time had been all muscle. Some of that girth had now slid south to hang slightly over his belt buckle. It didn't detract from the air of power and authority the man exerted.

What was a surprise was the four desks, occupied by four deputies, that occupied the rest of the massive office.

Sheriff Wickens laughed as he saw the minute widening of the fed's eyes. "I guess you didn't expect such a big force for such a small town, huh? Well let me tell you, Wickensburg is surrounded on all sides by some of the most fertile tobacco farmland in the country. This office takes care of the whole county. If you drive on through town you'll come to the John Deere dealership and the tobacco sheds. That's where most of the towns folk work."

Scully nodded her head in understanding, while Skinner reached into his pocket for his badge. "I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner with the FBI, this is Special Agent Dana Scully," he nodded as the small woman beside him. "We understand that you're holding Agent Scully's partner, Fox Mulder under arrest."

Wickens looked down into the fierce, determined face of the red- headed agent. He then turned to speak to the only female deputy occupying one of the desks. "Looks like that pretty boy is already taken, Mary Lou."

The pretty brunette smiled with a massive display of white teeth, "And here I was hoping he'd need a little of my tender mercies when ol' Jake got done with him."

Scully bristled, "You can rest assured that Agent Mulder will not be needing your attention, deputy."

"Now don't go getting your panties in a bunch, little lady. You can't blame Mary Lou none. That partner of your's is quite a looker, even if he is a royal pain in the ass."

Skinner and Scully just looked back at him, unable to argue with that assessment.

"Well," Skinner cleared his throat. "Can we see Agent Mulder?"

"Don't see why not, right this way."

The sheriff lead them back a long hallway and through a solid steel door. They entered another corridor, this one lined with three cells on each side. One of the cells was occupied by an old man, snoring loudly, obviously sleeping off a serious bout of alcohol consumption. The rest of the door stood open.

"Fox! Where you at, boy?"

"I told you not to call me Fox!" Came a disembodied voice from somewhere in the cells.

Skinner rolled his eyes as Scully placed a hand over her mouth to hide her grin. Mulder just never knew when you keep his mouth shut.

Mulder stepped out into the corridor, his mouth dropping open at the sight of his boss and his partner, who were also standing with their chins on the floor.

Mulder looked about fifteen years old in his uh . . .prison uniform. A pair of blue denim bid overalls, no shirt, no shoes, and his hair sticking out all over his head at odd angles. He held a broom in one hand and had obviously been set to the task of cleaning the cells.

"Mulder, you look like Opie Taylor," Scully sputtered before bursting into laughter.

"Very funny, Scully. Did you come here to get me out of this mess or just to laugh your ass off?"

Sheriff Wickens was across the room and had Mulder pinned against the iron bars of the cell before anyone even knew what was happening. "You listen to me, you little punk, I've been dying to apply my hand to your backside since the minute I saw you. You show some respect to this lady or that is just what's going to happen." He backed off, letting Mulder's feet drop back to the floor. "You mind your manners, kid, or else."

Mulder swallowed hard, "Scully, you gotta' get me out of here."

"Do I? It seems to me a good public whipping might be just what you need."

"Scul-l-l-l-ly."

Skinner reached up under his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. That headache was back. "Sheriff, could we have a few minutes alone with my agent?"

"Sure." The sheriff turned to Mulder, "You watch yourself, boy, cause I sure as hell am."

As soon as the sheriff was out of sight, Mulder found himself pinned up against the cell bars again. This time by his irate boss. "What the hell did you do this time?"

"I . . .I . . .I . . ."

"Perhaps you should let him down, sir."

Skinner begrudgingly stepped away from his wide-eyed agent. "Well, Mulder, I'm waiting."

"This guy who works on one of the farms down here contacted me. He said there was an alien craft landing in the same tobacco field every night at midnight. He took me out there but then the damn fool was smoking a cigarette. They said it was the worst tobacco field fire in twenty years."

"Shit!" Skinner placed both hands on his hips, glaring at his agent. "And I suppose by the time the sheriff got there, this mysterious informant had disappeared, leaving you to shoulder the blame."

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened." Mulder eyed his boss speculatively. "Have you ever been tested for physic abilities, sir?"

"This is not physic ability speaking," Skinner growled. "It's the voice of experience. I've supervised you for seven years, surely you think I learned something in all that time."

One side of Mulder's mouth quirked up as he shook his head in thought, "I don't know, sir. You don't seem to . . ."

"Mulder!"

"All right! Jeez, you don't have to be so grouchy about it."

"Grouchy! Grouchy! Why, you little . . ."

"Sir," Scully laid a calming hand on her boss's sleeve. "Remember what we talked about in your office? You'll get a chance to work out all your frustrations in the END."

"Yes," Skinner took a deep calming breath as he smirked at Mulder. "All . . . in the END. I'm going to go talk to the sheriff."

"What was that about, Scully. What did you talk about in his office?"

"You, me, my grandmother's hairbrush."

"Scully! You told him about that?"

"He thought it was a excellent idea, Mulder. In fact when we stopped for gas the last time, they had one of those little souvenir shops. He bought the most beautiful genuine cedar paddle."

"For . . .for what?"

"Well he didn't say but I assume if was to use on your cute little behind."

"You're going to let him paddle me?"

"Oh my yes. And much, much more, sweetheart."



The sheriff sat back in his leather chair and studied the man sitting across from his desk.

"I can see your point, Mr. Skinner. I don't like to see the pretty ones marred by that whip myself. Here let me show you the charges against that young man and we'll work out something else. How does that sound?"

Skinner couldn't help showing how relieved he was feeling. "Thank you, sheriff."

"We law enforcement officials have to stick together," the sheriff pulled a large black ledger from his desk drawer and turned about half way back. "Okay, here we go. Special Agent Fox Mulder. Malicious trespass - 10 lashes. Destroying private property - 20 lashes. Resisting arrest - 10 lashes. Public nusance - 10 lashes. And disrespect to the sheriff - 5 lashes."

"Disrespect isn't a crime!'

"It is in this county, Mr. Skinner. Now that makes a total of 55 lashes. That could have torn your boy up pretty badly. Course Old Jake is mighty good with that bullwhip of his, lays the strokes out over most of the body."

"Shit, Sheriff Wickens, you have to come up with something else. I know Mulder deserves to be punished for this but 55 lashes with a bullwhip?"

"Would you rather I pressed for prosecution, Mr. Skinner. I heard them boys up at the state pen would be real happy to have a federal officer thrown in with them, especially one that looks like the centerfold of a porn magazine."

Skinner winced, "Isn't there any other way?"

The sheriff rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know I've come to be a little fond of that boy. Amazing how someone so aggravating can grow on you like that."

"Tell me about it."

"So I propose that we double the sentence . . ."

"What?"

"Twice . . ."

"That's over 200 strokes! You can't be serious! You're going to whip my agent 200 times?"

"No, you are."

"What!"

"Okay I'm willing to compromise. Here's my final offer, Mr. Skinner, take it or leave it. Your boy gets a sentence of 150 stokes. The first 50 will be given here in my office with me and my deputies as witnesses. For the rest, you'll be staying out on Fred Richard's tobacco farm. He's the gent that owns the burned property. Your boy will be working for him as a field hand for three days and during that time you will deliver the other 150 strokes."

"I don't like it but I don't see that we have any choice." Skinner growled.

"I agree, Mr. Skinner. Now let me lay out the rules for you."

"Rules?"

"You didn't think I was going to let you just turn him over your knee and pat his bottom 150 times did you? We got to have some rules if that boy is going to learn anything."

Skinner sighed, "What are the rules."

Wickens pulled out a sheet of paper, smiling smugly.

"You planned this?"

"Like I said, Mr. Skinner, the boy grows on you and I didn't want to see him face that whip as much as you. I was just hoping you would get here in time to save him. Now about those rules." The sheriff pushed the paper over in front of the AD.

Rule #1: Prisoner will remain naked for entire time of incarceration.

Skinner looked up at the sheriff, prepared to protest only to be met with the man dangling a contraption made of metal and leather in front of his shocked face.

"I'd suggest you fit this on your boy. It's a cock cage to keep his family jewels out of the way of harm. It's a snug fit, made to hold his genitals up against his belly real tight. I'd warn your lady friend not to get him excited, that could be very painful. You'll have the only key, so you'll have to help him when nature calls."

Skinner swallowed hard as he looked back down at the paper.

Rule #2: All strokes are to be given on bare skin and at maximum strength.

"We'll be watching you, Mr. Skinner. You go easy on that boy and he comes back here for the whip."

"Rule #3: No implement of correction shall be used more than one time.

Rule #4: No more than fifteen strokes shall be given at one time.

Rule #5: There must be at least three qualified witnesses present for each punishment session.

"Qualified witnesses means our people, not yours. Any questions, Mr. Skinner?"

"No, I think this is clear enough. When do we begin?"

"I should think right after dinner would be best. That boy of yours doesn't want to eat like he should. No use giving him another excuse. I'd suggest that you and Agent Scully use the time today to visit the Farm Bureau and get appropriate clothing for living on a farm for a couple of days."

"Fine." Skinner gritted his teeth as he rose from his chair.

"One other thing, Mr. Skinner. The twenty lashes your boy is due for back-talking me. I'll be giving him those personally after he gets his fifty from you tonight. The sheriff pulled a long, narrow, school paddle out of his drawer. It was well worn and riddled with holes. "I might suggest you use up your hand spanking on this one. That boy is going to be mighty sore no matter how it happens."





Mulder pushed away his tray, the plate hardly touched. He turned at a sound to find his boss dressed in denim and flannel. He blinked slowly at the curious sight.

Mulder stood up, "Si . . .sir?"

Skinner opened the unlocked cell door and threw a paper bag on the cot. "Just keep quiet, Mulder. I think you've said and done more than enough as it is. Now, don't move a muscle."

Mulder gaped at him as Skinner raised his hand to unfasten the metal clips that held up Mulder's only piece of clothing.

The agent batted at his hands away. "What are you doing?"

"What I'm doing, Agent Mulder, is everything possible to make an impossible situation even slightly bearable. Now, you will keep your hands to your side and your mouth shut. Do you understand me?"

Mulder swallowed hard as that commanding voice had its usual immediate effect on him. He could do little else but obey. He nodded his head, his mouth too dry to speak.

Mulder closed his eyes, his face flaming as the hated bib overalls fell to the floor leaving him naked in front of his boss.

He heard a deep sigh, "Mulder."

The agent couldn't force his eyes to open. He felt strong fingers take a firm grip on his chin. "Open your eyes, Mulder. Look at me for a minute."

The agent took a couple of deep breaths then opened his eyes to stare into the compassionate face of his direct supervisor. "Listen to me, Mulder. I made a deal with Sheriff Wickens so you wouldn't be whipped tomorrow morning."

Mulder closed his eyes again, this time in relief. He felt a firm tug at his jaw.

"Look at me! The new punishment is better but not by much. First of all, you're going to be naked for the couple of days."

Skinner felt his agent flinch. "I know that's going to be hard for you because no matter how beautiful you are, you're also a very private person. It can't be helped. You'll just have to endure it."

Mulder's head was spinning. He was going to be naked? In public? For days? Skinner thought he was beautiful?

He came out of his daze just long enough to notice that the AD was holding his cock and balls. "Si . . .sir?"

"Let me finish this up and then I'll answer all your questions."

Mulder closed his eyes, fighting desperately not to become hard from his boss' gentle handling. He watched as the metal cage was fitted snugly over his private parts, then a strip of leather pulled the whole thing up against his stomach and was attached to a thin leather belt around his waist. A small padlock was added where the strap and the belt met right above his navel. His exposed cock and balls were still plainly visible in their metal prison but at least they were not dangling between his legs, naked and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but this is for your own protection. You're going to be getting quite a work out for the next few days and this is to protect your genitals from harm."

"Ha . . harm? What kind of harm?"

"You've been sentenced to be punished, Mulder. Over 150 strokes."

Mulder gasped as he stepped back, only to be pulled forward again by a big paw in his waist belt. "Now you listen to me, young man. This isn't going to be easy for any of us but you brought this on yourself. The first part of your punishment is scheduled for right now. Then we're going to be driven out to that farmer you violated. This won't be easy, Mulder, but you're damned well going to do it. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

Skinner nodded, grabbed Mulder's arm and walked him toward the front lobby of the sheriff's office.

Mulder looked around at the eager faces who stood watching him. The four deputies, three men and Mary Lou stood in dress uniform, their eyes never leaving his body. He gulped hard as he saw Scully sitting on a far desk, her eyes sad. There was also a man there he didn't recognize.

"I want to start this by introducing everyone present." He turned to the man who sat typing on a machine in the corner. "You ready to get all of this, Fred?"

"Ready, sheriff."

"We're here tonight to administer punishment to Special Agent Fox William Mulder, of Washington DC. In witness we have, Sheriff Claude Wickens, Deputy Mary Lou Wickens, Deputy Alan Wickens, Deputy Sam Wickens, Deputy Seth Wickens, Judge Mitch Wickens and Fred Richards, the plaintiff."

Skinner raised on eyebrow at Richards. "My mother was a Wickens."

"Oh, I see." Skinner shook his head in disbelief. Only Mulder would decide to find trouble in a one family town.

The sheriff turned toward the AD, "Are you ready to do your duty to this young man, Mr. Skinner?"

"You choice of implement and area to be punished?"

"Just my hand applied to his bare backside should do it." Skinner was surprised to realize that he was looking forward to finally giving Mulder the spanking he had so often thought he needed. He pushed the thought guiltily to the back of his mind.

As two of the deputies moved to place a straight back wooden chair in the center of the room, the sheriff reached behind him to offer the AD a strange looking glove.

"What's this?"

"It's a tobacco picking glove. The palm is covered with a bubbled rubber for a tighter grip on tobacco plants. We've found that it works very well on naughty bottoms. That boy has a lot of muscle, Mr. Skinner and fifty hard smacks will make your hand mighty sore. Do you really deserve to feel the pain of this punishment? After all, wasn't it him who got in trouble? Shouldn't it only be his bottom that's sore when this is all over?"

Skinner looked over at Mulder, who had his eyes glue to the glove. Little shit! Always getting in trouble and dragging the rest of them along with him. He took the offered glove and smoothed the tight fitting material over his right hand.

Skinner took hold of Mulder's arm again, pulling his dazed agent stumbling behind him over to where the chair had been placed. He noticed there was plenty of open space around it for the frantic action that was about to take place there. He sat down and hauled the trembling agent over his knees. He ran the rubber glove over the smooth bottom, feeling his agent shudder at the touch.

"Remember, Mr. Skinner, make them count or we will."

Skinner nodded at the sheriff, sparing one look for Dana Scully. He sighed as he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. Damn Mulder. Always causing heartache for the ones who loved him. Maybe he did need a good lesson applied to his bare butt. Might just do him some good.

Skinner raised his knee, tipping his agent's backside up another inch. He placed his other hand in the small of Mulder's back, pushing down, then raised the gloved hand high above the two mounds of smooth white skin offered up for sacrifice of sins committed.

The first smack was a surprise for both of them. For one thing it was loud. Much louder than Skinner had expected. And it was, if Mulder's reaction was any indiction, highly effective. The agent gasped loudly, arching up over his knee.

"Keep your head down, Mulder." Skinner growled as he brought the rubber covered hand down again. Skinner secretly thrilled at the bright crimson hand print - his hand print- that appeared on each of the snow white cheeks.

"You've deserved this for a long time, agent, so just keep quiet and take it."

By the tenth smack, Mulder was squirming so hard Skinner had to wrap his arm around his waist and hold his body firmly against his own. Skinner paused to look around the room. All eyes were on the beautiful man suffering over his knees. Even Scully had a mesmerized look about her.

He lowered his eyes to the wiggling bottom across his lap and raised the glove once more. By the fifteenth stroke Mulder had started to kick for all he was worth. By twenty he burst into tears. Skinner felt a little twinge of pity for that but continued to pepper the reddened flesh with hard, sharp slaps.

By thirty, Mulder was pleading for mercy and promising to be a model agent for the rest of his life. Skinner didn't believe him of course but it was still a heady moment. Special Agent Mulder, bane of the FBI, kicking and crying like a five year old over his boss' knee. Skinner only wished he'd thought of this sooner.

Skinner moved down to attend the back of his agent's thighs and saw the sheriff nod in approval. Mulder was less enthusiastic. At least in his approval. He was very vocal in the effectiveness of the rubber glove on tender thighs.

By the time Mulder's bottom had absorbed forty strokes he no longer cared that he was naked and being spanked while a whole room full of people watched. He didn't care that his partner was witnessing him behaving like a little kid with a hot bottom. That's exactly what he felt like. All he wanted the terrible spanking to be over. He lay limply, sobbing his heart out over his boss' lap.

Skinner looked down at the burning bottom that now occupied his lap. It was still beautiful, just in a different color. He raised his hand to deliver the last smacks. He was interrupted by the sheriff.

"May I suggest Mr. Skinner that you spread his legs and apply the last ten right on the sit spot. You've taught him a much needed lesson, now it's time to really bring it home."

The Ad looked down at his sobbing agent. Maybe the sheriff was right. It didn't look like Mulder was too anxious to run off and investigate crop circles at the moment. He carefully pried his agent's legs apart. Mulder didn't even try to protest.

Skinner now saw what the sheriff was suggesting. The spread legs opened up a tender new area of tender white shin for the punishing glove to devour. He brought his hand down sharply on the previously untouched skin and listened as his agent howled in distress. He brought his hand down again, fascinated as the delicate skin inside the deep crevice blistered and burned. He was also fascinated that Mulder made no effort to close his legs to protect an area it was obvious he would just as soon not have punished.

He looked up at the sheriff. "It's only now that he's completely open to the message of obedience to you, Mr. Skinner. Use this time wisely."

Skinner raised the gloved hand high over his shoulder, aiming once more for that patch of delicate stinging flesh. SMACK!

"Ah-h-h-h-h-hh-Ohh-h-h-h-h!"

"Are you ever going to run off alone again, Mulder?" SMACK!

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h No-o-o-o-o, sir. Never!"

"Who's the boss, Mulder?" SMACK!

"Och-h-h-h-h-h! Oh! Your are, sir! Oh-h-h-h-h!"

Skinner noticed that Mulder's legs were trembling with the struggle to remain parted so that heretofore hidden skin could be adequately punished.

"Who's the boss, Mulder?" SMACK!

"Ah-h-h-h-h-hh-Oh-h-h-h-h-h! You are!"

"Who's the boss, Mulder?" SMACK!

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h No-o-o-o-o! Please! You are! You are!"

"Who's the boss, Mulder?" SMACK!

Och-h-h-h-h-h! YOU! Please, sir, ple-e-e-e-ase! YOU!"

"Open your legs further, Mulder."

The agent sobbed from deep in his chest but complied immediately. His legs now splayed as widely as possible, his red, blistered bottom on full display for everyone to see.

SMACK! SMACK! The last two strokes came down sharply on the inside of each of Mulder's thighs. The agent screamed and thrashed frantically over his boss's knees but somehow managed to keep his legs open as ordered.

"Ah-h-h-h-h-hh-Ohh-h-h-h-h! Oh sir! Oh sir, please!"

Skinner rubbed the agent's back while the young man slowly came to the realization that the spanking was finally over. "You can get up now, Mulder."

The agent rose, hopping from foot to foot as he tried to rub his blazing bottom without actually touching it. Skinner frowned as he decided the 'witnesses' were enjoying the erotic spectacle Mulder was presenting far too much and sent the dancing agent to a corner to cool down. Mulder stood with his nose pressed against the cool wall, sniffling pitifully.

Scully started to get up but Skinner stopped her. "Leave him alone for now, Agent Scully. He only has a sore bottom and that certainly won't do him any permanent harm. You can spoil him later. And Mulder, put your hands down at your sides and away from your backside."

The air in the sheriff's office was thick with tension.

"You did a good job, Mr. Skinner. A lot better than I though you would. That's a hell of a sore looking bottom and he still has twenty due with my paddle."

Skinner stood silently, not sure what to say. If he tried to talk the sheriff out of the further punishment he might just set the man's determination stronger, on the other hand . . .

"Tell you what. I'll give the boy ten tonight and then I'll drop out by the farm oh say, day after tomorrow and give him the remainder. How would that be?"

Skinner nodded unhappily as he looked at the throbbing red bottom that was on display for all to see.

"Son," the sheriff called. "Turn around here and tell your boss what you called me the night I arrested you."

Mulder swallowed hard, his face paling. "An . . .an overfed, incompetent old geezer." Mulder winced as the storm clouds formed on his boss' face. The agent knew well how the AD felt about showing respect to fellow law enforcement officers.

"Fine," Skinner ground out. "Ten now and ten later. Get over here, Mulder."

Everyone in the room smiled as the agent trailed over like a rebellious teenager. A very naked, very beautiful, rebellious teenager.

"All right, son, I want you to bend over and grab your ankles. Don't be shy now, everyone here has already had a good long look at everything you got."

A deeply blushing Mulder winced as his sore bottom stretched and spread as it was unwillingly offered up to the sheriff's paddle.

"Mr. Skinner why don't you stand in front of him so he doesn't fall on his nose. Old Smokey here has a tendency to upend the bad boys who are unfortunate enough to end up on its business end."

Skinner moved around placing both hands on Mulder's ribs, letting the agent's shoulders rest against his strong thighs. The sheriff nodded in satisfaction. There wasn't much danger now that young Mr. Mulder's bottom would escape what Old Smokey had to offer.

There was a general shuffling as the witnesses moved around to avoid their view being blocked by Skinner's board back.

"Fox, Old Smokey here has scorched the buns of many a young men and he knows what he's doing so all you have to do is concentrate on holding on to your ankles and let him do his job. If you find a way to stand up, we'll start over."

Wickens chuckled as he saw Skinner tighten his hold on the trembling young man's body. "Looks like it's going to just be ten for you, boy. Here we go."

The sheriff didn't have to get much of a backward swing, the paddle had been carefully and lovingly designed to impart the maximum sting to naughty bottoms. The air whistled through the many holes as the paddle completed its arch and landed with a loud crack on its waiting target.

Mulder let out a terrible shriek as his kicking feet left the floor. If not for Skinner's steadying hands he would have toppled. As it was, he dangled in his boss' arms the lower half of his body dancing frantically.

"Well I see Old Smokey still has what it takes. Grab your ankles, Fox, nine more to go."

"Stop torturing the boy and just do it," Skinner growled.

The paddle connected again with the same dizzying effect. Without further comment the sherif set about delivering the next eight devastating strokes of his dependable old paddle.

Mulder yelled and begged, danced and squirmed but Skinner kept him bent in place, his blistered bottom well presented for every one of the ten stingers he received.

When it was finally over, Skinner shifted his weight as he lifted the sobbing Mulder into his arms and carried him toward the door. "We're ready to leave for the farm now, sheriff."

"What about my glove, Mr. Skinner?"

"I'm keeping it."

The End