Title:     BEST SERVED COLD
           A story in ten chapters with an epilogue
Author:    NOIRCEUR
Betas:     Keir, Minou, DW Chong, Gaby
Posted:    Labour day Weekend, 2001
Fandom:    X-Files
Pairing:   Skinner/Krycek
Category:  Torture/Master-Slave fic
Rating:    Very Strong NC-17
Warnings:  See below.  Please.

Disclaimer:  These characters belong to CC, Fox and 1013.  I am not using them
for any monetary purpose.

DEDICATED to my four betas who pushed and prodded until *they* were satisfied
with the final product.  Well, as much as possible.  Have you ever tried to
satisfy *four* betas??? <g>

***

A little background before you dig your teeth into this.

Last November (2000), I was in correspondence with Keir who suddenly mentioned
she would like to read a story that had more than a couple of kinks in it.  In
fact, she wanted a series of kinks.

The deal was, she would find me the research sites and I would write.

Interesting stuff you can find on the internet, eh? <VWG>

Thus began BEST SERVED COLD.  (My thanks to Gaby for use of the title.)

As I was plotting it, I thought that it might be a little more challenging to
see if I could do the story only from one POV: that of the Master (aka Skinner).

Before I go further, let me just say that *this* Skinner barely has anything in
common with the one who is canon, or even fanon. This is an AU setting.  This is
a Skinner who has been pushed to the extreme and who reacts in extreme ways.  He
is not a comfortable character.  Not to write; certainly, I've been told, not to
read.

WARNING:  This Skinner is ***NOT*** going to be popular.

So if you are a Skinner fan, you might want to do both of us a favour and skip
this story.  Please.  I am writing ViolentPsychotic!Skinner.


That said, I wanted the story to contain only the Master's POV. Whatever we
learn of the Pet (aka Krycek) in the story, we should get *only* from what
Skinner sees, infers, hears.  So, within the story, we do not ever get inside
Krycek's head in any way, shape or form....Yes, I know, not the normal way of
things but, as I said, this is an experiment.

And experimentation, whether successful or not, should be at least attempted
once in a while, just for the fun of it.

The Epilogue was added after the fact in order to satisfy some of the questions
that betas posed about Pet's behaviour and about the one-sidedness of the story.
 It probably doesn't answer all of them, but I hope enough.

Now that you have been amply warned, if you do go ahead and read it, I wouldn't
mind knowing what you thought about it.

jmann@pobox.mondenet.com

Thanks.

NOIRCEUR

BEST SERVED COLD


Chapter 1:  In Which a Rat Is Caught


"Well, that's the last of these."

Special Agent Fox Mulder tossed the file onto the pile that already littered the
conference table.  He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wake himself up.
 They'd been on this round- up of Consortium members and their allies for three
days now.

Assistant Director Walter Skinner took a sip of coffee and grimaced.  "Who's
left?"

Special Agent Dana Scully looked up from the computer she had been using to keep
in communication with the international organizations that were involved in this
gathering of the last vestiges of the once-powerful Consortium.  "Krycek.  But
no one seems to have caught even the slightest whiff of him anywhere in their
nets."

"Probably dead," yawned Kim Cook, the Personal Assistant to the Assistant
Director.  "Shall I make another pot of coffee?"

The general consensus on that was a heartfelt groan.

"Well," said Skinner, "looks like the only thing we can do is send out a Special
Memo about Krycek, and ask our colleagues to do the same.  Kim is probably
right:  he's probably dead.  Either that or he's buried himself so far
underground, we'll catch him only by fluke.

"Dana, thank our colleagues for their co-operation, congratulate them on work
well done and let's go find our beds.  I don't expect to see any of you around
here until Monday.  And that includes you too, Kim."

Skinner rose, stretched muscles that screamed protest over being so suddenly
abused.  He looked around the room.  "Ladies, gentlemen, I thank you for the
time you've put into this project. Your dedication to it was certainly over and
above the call of duty.  And it shall be so noted in your files.

"Good..."  He stopped.  Kim had just pulled open the blinds on the windows in
his office, letting in the first natural light they had seen in days.  "I was
going to say 'night', but I guess 'morning' would be more appropriate."

The men helped Kim gather up the files while Scully sent out the last of the
e-mails.

With various moans, groans, grunts, they made their way out of Skinner's office
and took their aching bodies home.

***

Skinner shut the door to his apartment, tossed his keys into the bowl that sat
on the small cabinet by the closet.  He hung up his coat.  In the kitchen, he
poured himself a glass of juice, found the bottle of headache capsules in the
cupboard and swallowed four with the juice.  He rinsed the glass and headed
upstairs to take his own advice and get some much-desired sleep.

He had one chore left to do before he found his bed.  He stopped at the door of
the spare bedroom and took his weapon out of its holster.  Gun in hand, he
pushed open the door, switched on the light in the curtain-darkened room.

The man lying, bound, on the floor, blinked into the sudden light.  He still had
the energy to glare his hatred at the man standing in the doorway.

Skinner smiled, rested his shoulder against the frame.  "Three days and you're
still here.  So glad you decided to accept my invitation."

The man, though weak from lack of food or water, found enough spit to croak,
"Fuck you, Skinner."

Said Alex Krycek.

***

As Skinner had said, it would only be by fluke that Alex Krycek would be caught.
 Because that was how he had caught him.  The night before the round-up went
into effect.  He'd been taking a short-cut, near closing time, through one of
the local malls, not one he frequented, but the only one in D.C. that had the
store with the exact colour wool his sister had asked him to pick up for her. 
There, in the food court, eating a hamburger, as calmly as you please, was the
ratbastard who had infected him with nanocytes.

Who still used them to control his life at the bidding of his masters.

Who smiled as his finger hit the button that sent Skinner to his knees, reeling
from the pain.

Who was responsible for the humiliation of not being able to control his own
body.

The gods were on his side that night.  Krycek never saw him, never noticed him
following him out of the mall, to the dark corner Krycek had parked his car.

Never heard Skinner come up on him until it was too late.

The sound of his gun stock on Krycek's head had been like music to Skinner's
ears.

His luck had held out.  No one had seen him hoist Krycek over his shoulder,
slink into the night shadows of the building, carry him to his car, dump him
into the trunk.  There was something to be said for shopping this late at night.
 And in his own building's parking garage, he knew where the security cameras
were, their blind spots, knew that the camera in the far elevator was out, to be
repaired that very morning.

He'd cuffed Krycek's wrists together, knowing the prosthesis would hold Krycek
long enough for him to secure the man even better in his spare bedroom, the room
which held his exercise equipment.

It had never occurred to him to worry that Krycek remained unconscious all the
way to the apartment, that he'd only begun showing signs of awakening once
Skinner had dropped him onto the floor of the spare bedroom.

The first thing he had done was take off Krycek's boots and socks, cuff his
ankles together with the spare set he kept in the cabinet by the door.  He'd
wrapped a length of chain he had cut for a project at the cabin around Krycek's
waist, padlocked it snugly and then cuffed Krycek's good wrist to it, behind his
back.  While Krycek was still groggy from the blow to his head, Skinner had
shoved his sweater, t-shirt up enough so that he could release the prosthetic.

A second, longer length of chain was padlocked at one end to the ankle cuffs;
the free end was woven through the home gym system then padlocked around one of
the legs of the bench that was securely bolted down to the floor.  After that,
Skinner had added all the weights he had to make the system even more
unmoveable.

Krycek had been fully awake by then, face feral, cursing him. Skinner had
checked on his eyes just to be certain all he had was a mild concussion.  And
had gone to bed.

He'd looked in once more in the morning before leaving.  "I have no idea when
I'll be back, Krycek.  Could be tomorrow, could be next week.  Stay as long as
you like.  I'll see you when I get back."

***

But now, here Skinner was, a mere six hours after returning from the office,
emptying the room of all its contents while Krycek lay still, silently watching
with those angry eyes of his.

Not that there were that much:  he wasn't much of a pack rat. The boxes filled
with paper would go into his home office downstairs.  Time he sorted through all
that stuff anyway.  He'd do that over the weekend.  The clothes that hung in the
closet, well, most of them could be sent to the Salvation Army.

He took the closet doors off at their hinges.  Did the same to the small
en-suite bathroom door.

Only then did Skinner release the longer chain, pulling it out from around the
bench, coiling it around his hand so that it was short enough for him to haul
Krycek by the feet across the hardwood floor to the bathroom.  He padlocked it
around the toilet.  Even now, he was willing to bet that, no matter what his
condition, Krycek would try to escape.  He was the sort of rat to have a reserve
of strength somewhere in him to use when cornered.

On his stomach, Krycek moved his head so he could watch as Skinner dismantled
the gym system, moved it out into his bedroom. The only thing Skinner left
behind was the post on which he stacked his weights when they weren't in use. 
First, he slid a large flat padlock with a chain already attached to it onto the
pole.  Then, on top of that, he piled all the bar weights he had, some three
hundred pounds.

Skinner looked around the room, mentally checking it against the list of special
requirements he thought he would need.  He nodded, pleased with what he saw.

He turned to Krycek, shaking his head.  "You know, Krycek, you really do smell. 
You should have made some kind of effort to use the toilet.  I mean, I know
you're a shit, but this smell is too much for an enclosed area."  Krycek merely
rested his head on the floor, as though what Skinner was saying held no interest
for him.  Skinner grinned wolfishly.  "Don't go away, now.  I'll be back in a
minute."

And he was, with a large pair of kitchen shears, a sharpened knife and a green
plastic garbage bag.

"Time to get those clothes off you, Krycek."  As he neared the man, Krycek found
the energy to raise his head and bare his teeth.  He made a sort of snarling
sound from the back of his throat.  "No, not a good idea, Krycek.  Bite me, and
you can forget about the water I was going to give you.  You'd like that,
wouldn't you?  A nice, big glass of water."  He crouched by the bound man. 
"Well, what's it to be?"

"Fuck you."  Krycek's throat barely got the words out.

Skinner shook his head, sadly.  "No, Krycek.  No profanity. That's another rule
you're going to have to accept if you want water.  Food.  If you care to address
me, you will be polite.  In fact, call me," he smiled coldly, "'Master'.  If you
don't care for the rule, I'll have no recourse but to gag you.  Is this
understood?"

Skinner waited until Krycek nodded.  "Say it, Krycek.  I want to be certain that
there are no misunderstandings between us."

Krycek gritted his teeth, forced out a soft "Yes."

"Yes, who, Krycek?"

When he didn't get a response, Skinner reached up and turned on a tap in the
sink.  Krycek got the message.

He bit out, "Yes.  Master."

"Good."  Skinner filled a glass with water, held it near Krycek's mouth. "Sip. 
Your stomach needs to get used to this again.  I promise that I'll give you
enough, but if you puke it up, you'll have to lap that up before I give you any
more.  Is *that* understood?"

Krycek closed his eyes.  Skinner knew he could smell the water, needed it badly.
 He waited until he got a barely audible "Yes. Master."

Which he found quite thrilling.

Between offered sips of water, Skinner used the knife and shears to cut the
clothes off Krycek.  He threw the shreds into the garbage bag, wrinkling his
nose expressively when he tossed in the soiled jeans and shorts.  "I hope I
won't have to put diapers on you, Pet."

From the horrified expression on Krycek's face, he thought the man hoped so too.

There wasn't that much room in the bathroom.  Skinner stepped over the prone
body, reached over to turn on the taps in the tub. "I think we'll start with a
soak, get that shit off you, then follow up with a shower."

He reached down, grabbed Krycek by the chain he still wore at his waist and
hauled him up onto his knees, then pushed him over the side of the tub.  The
chain around the toilet grew taut.  Skinner stepped over it for a scrubbing
brush and a bottle of extra- strength hand soap.

Krycek stayed very still during his scrub down.  Skinner slapped the back of his
head when he caught him trying to drink some of the water.  "NO!  That water is
dirty.  True, it's your dirt but it won't do you any good to swallow faeces by
mistake.  I told you, I'll  give you enough water.  You're going to have to
learn to believe me when I tell you something."

Skinner grabbed Krycek by the hair, pulled his head back.  He reached for a face
cloth and roughly shoved it into Krycek's mouth.  It took Krycek by surprise. 
"Next time, remember."

Skinner examined his captive's body as he washed it.  It contained a good record
of the assassin's activities, what with its scars, the well-honed muscles. 
Krycek had led a hard life -- and not just lately, from the colour and texture
of the scars -- and it showed.  Still, he had survived, and was probably the
stronger for it.

Good, thought Skinner and he grinned to himself.

He pulled Krycek to his knees, used a hand to steady him and flipped the lever
to the shower.  Krycek wobbled, but remained upright.  Ah, thought Skinner,
nothing like pride.

He washed the man quickly, turned off the water and again, using the waist
chain, hauled him out of the tub.  He would have to replace that with something
else before it rubbed the skin raw. He took the gag out, let Krycek have a
little more water before drying him.  And again after he was finished.  He sat
on the toilet lid and kept an eye on the quantity making it down Krycek's
throat.  When he was certain he wasn't going to puke it up, he allowed him a bit
more then took the glass away.

"That's enough for now.  I'll water you again later on."  With a small, cold
smile, Skinner pushed the man onto his side.  Krycek was alert enough to turn so
that he landed on his shoulder, not the stump.

Good reflexes, thought Skinner.  He'd have to remember that, take them into
account.

He placed a knee on Krycek's legs, unlocked the chain from around the toilet and
used it to haul Krycek into the now empty room. There he looped the chain from
the post around the ankle cuffs, slid the end link onto the unused hand cuff and
snapped it shut. He stood back and looked over his work.  "Well, that should
hold you for now.  I have some errands to run.  Shouldn't take more than a
couple of hours.  Behave yourself."

"You can't leave me here like this," gasped Krycek.  "What if there's a fire?"

"A fire?"  Skinner's grin showed his teeth.  "Well, then, I guess you'll burn in
it.  Give you a taste of hell before you go there."

***

It was late afternoon before he had gotten everything on his list.  Krycek, he
noted from the scraped skin on his ankles, had tried to pull himself somewhere,
probably to the door.  Not that he had gotten very far.

Krycek raised his head at Skinner's entrance, then let it drop back to the
floor.  Not, thought Skinner, a good sign.  He didn't intend losing his little
pet now that he'd gotten him.

He went back down to the kitchen, got a can of Boost and filled a small glass. 
He grabbed Krycek by the hair and held the glass to his lips.  He allowed Krycek
to drink about a quarter of it before he pulled the glass away.  "What do you
say, Pet?"

Krycek looked at the glass, passed the tip of his tongue over his dry lower lip.
 "Fuck you, Master."

Skinner put the glass down and backhanded the man, enjoying the feel of his hand
slamming against Krycek's face.  Still, he couldn't fault him for courage.

He was, Skinner finally admitted to himself, really going to enjoy breaking this
man.

"What did I tell you about profanity, Pet?"  He kept his voice to a
conversational level.  "Not acceptable.  Much as I think that you need some
nutrition, I think you need to understand your situation even more."

Skinner placed the glass just out of Krycek's reach and stood up. "There, that
will give you something to think about while I get some chores done.  I'll come
back later and ask you that question again."

He gave Krycek until supper time to consider the answer he would give.

"Well, Pet.  Are you ready to answer my question properly?  Would you like some
more of this delicious drink?"  Skinner held up the glass and passed it
teasingly near Krycek's nose.

Krycek closed his eyes, sighed, raised his head.  "Yes, please. Master."

Skinner grinned.  "See.  That wasn't too hard.  Of course, you may have some
more."  He let Krycek empty the glass, sip by sip, so that his stomach wouldn't
rebel as his spirit so wanted to do.

To be honest with himself, Skinner knew that Krycek had probably determined that
if he didn't get some nourishment, he would never have the strength to escape. 
That's why he had given in. Skinner grinned again; fat chance of that happening,
if he had his way.

And he would.

When the glass was empty, Skinner went and got the rest of his purchases.  Out
of the large, deep purple bag with no logo on it, he took out a variety of
straps, fetters.

"I have to admit to you, Pet, that I was quite taken aback by some of the stock
this store carries.  I wonder if you know it," he nudged the silent man.  "It's
in the Dupont Circle area.  No? Funny.  I would have thought it was just the
sort of place an animal like yourself would know well."

Aware that with every mouthful of liquid Krycek was regaining his strength,
Skinner cautiously went about replacing the handcuffs that confined wrist and
ankles with lined specialized-plastic restraints, the chain around his waist
with a wide belt of the same material that locked snugly.

Aware too that, though the equipment was top-of-the-line BD material, this was
no game he was playing with Krycek.  There would be no safe words, no quick
release mechanisms.  He fully intended to break the man.

The new restraints were linked to the chains with small but very secure
padlocks.

He didn't fool himself into thinking Krycek wouldn't try anything to get loose,
if only to make his way out of the apartment.  He added a locking mechanism to
the window, replaced the lock on the door with a dead bolt.

All the while, he kept on supplying Krycek with small quantities of the Boost,
making him ask for it each time and thank him as well.

And each time, teeth gritted, Krycek did.  "Please, Master. Thank you, Master."

When all was done to Skinner's satisfaction, he came to crouch in front of the
man.  He took Krycek's chin in his hand, forced his head up.  He spoke in his
severest AD voice.  "This is how it's going to be, Pet.  I'll feed you twice a
day.  In the morning, before I leave for work; in the evening, when I get back,
no matter what time that is.  I'll let you use the toilet three times a day.  In
the morning, when I get back, before I go to bed.

"As I'm sure you're smart enough to have figured out already, you're not here
for your pleasure, you're here for mine."  His voice turned hard, his grip
painful on Krycek's face.  "For my pleasure of paying you back for the
nanocytes.  For all the little indignities you subjected me to with your threat
of the nanocytes.  For the betrayals you made me admit I was not strong enough
to spit back into your face.  For making me realize that I wanted to live at any
cost, including the cost of my honour.

"For what you did, not just to me, but to the others.  To Scully. To Mulder. 
And don't give me that bullshit about like any soldier in a war, you were only
following orders.  You *enjoyed* hurting us, humiliating us.  You smiled when
you hit me with the nanocytes.

"From now on, I own you.  To do with as I please.  Frankly, I would love for you
to fight me.  I want you to fight me, Pet.  It will make breaking you that much
sweeter."

Krycek sneered.  "Better men than you have tried."  Then he added, mockingly,
"Master."

"Probably," agreed Skinner, "but then, they didn't have my motivation."  He
released Krycek's face, stood up.  "By the way, as you've probably already
figured out, you can yell all you want: the apartment is sound-proof."

"Oh, and another thing, thanks for all the data you sent us.  We picked up all
the names in the files.  Except for you, of course. You might like to know that
the general consensus is that you're dead, your body rotting away in some
cesspool.  But we are going to let it be known that you were our source of
information.

"Ah, I see you hadn't counted on that.  Well, think about it. Even if you do
manage to get away, you really will have nowhere to go.  Get some rest.  You're
going to need it."

***

The next morning, when Skinner came in with another glass of Boost, Krycek was
lying head towards the window.  He shook his own head ruefully.  He had to give
the bastard credit for trying. Still, it was nice to see that he wasn't going to
roll over and accept.  Wouldn't be too much fun if he did that.

"Good morning, Pet.  Rise and shine."

Skinner went over to the window, parted the curtains and looked out.  Even here,
on the seventeenth floor, there were windows opposite that just might end up
attracted to some activity from this one.  He had to do something about that.

He crouched by Krycek, waved the glass by his face.  Krycek's mouth tightened. 
Skinner waited.

"Please.  Master."  His voice was devoid of any expression.

Skinner smiled, gave Krycek's head a gentle pat.  Krycek pulled his head sharply
away, trying to avoid the touch.  Skinner just grabbed him by the hair, holding
his head steady.  "Good boy.  In fact, you can have the whole thing this time. 
Your system seems to be readjusting quite nicely."

When Krycek had emptied the glass, Skinner filled it with water from the
bathroom and let Krycek drink that as well.

"Now then, you're going to need water on a regular basis, Pet. Even when I'm not
here.  So I bought you something."

Skinner went out into the hallway, returned with a large pet water bottle, the
type that stood upside down in a stand, with a balled nozzle.  He braced the
stand onto the floor, just far enough from Krycek that the only way he would be
able to reach it would be on his stomach.  Krycek looked up at him, his
incredulity adding to Skinner's enjoyment of the moment.

"There.  Whenever you want water, you have it.  I'll refill it whenever I find
it empty.  A promise, Pet.  And remember what I said about my promises?  I keep
them.  Even to a ratbastard like you."

He went back out again, returned in a few minutes with a blind for the window. 
It didn't take long to remove the curtain,  set up the blind, roll it down. 
With a stapler gun, he attached the blind to the window frame, effectively
blacking out the room. Now he wouldn't have to worry about anyone seeing
something they shouldn't.

He left Krycek alone for the rest of the day.  In fact, he next went into the
room just before he was going to bed.

Skinner poured another can of the Boost into a dog dish and sat on the floor
waiting for Krycek to decide he wanted it.

"If you don't ask nicely, Pet, you don't get anything but water until I feed you
tomorrow morning.  And not even then if you still won't ask.  Remember, I have
to go in to work tomorrow. Will probably have to put in a long day.  Get home
really late. Do you really want to go all that time without something more in
your stomach than water?  Up to you, Pet."

He thought maybe Krycek was strong enough to refuse asking.  He gave him a full
minute to make up his mind.  He was reaching for the bowl when Krycek made a
rough noise in the back of his throat.  "Please.  Master."  He spat the last
word.

"Hmmmm?  No, not enough, Pet.  I think I want you to be more specific."  Skinner
grinned at the look filled with loathing that Krycek gave him.  He was
surprised, yet again, by how much he was enjoying this.

"Please, Master, may I have the bowl?"

"Why, yes, Pet, you may have the bowl.  You only have to ask." Skinner pushed
the bowl forward just enough so that Krycek could lap at the thick liquid. 
While he did so, Skinner amused himself playing with Krycek's hair.  He knew the
man wanted to pull back from his touch but wouldn't.  He needed this meal if he
were going to fight Skinner and they both knew it.

"Do you need the toilet yet?  I'm going to bed so this is your last chance.  I
wouldn't want to come in tomorrow and find a mess on the floor."

***

The next morning, when Skinner quietly opened the door and turned on the light,
he found Krycek curled up in as tight a ball as he could.  Skinner realized he
was trying to conserve heat.  He set down the bowl that contained Krycek's
breakfast, raised the heat in the room.  He'd been keeping it at a minimum since
he heated up fairly quickly when he exercised.  But Krycek was naked, lying on
the hardwood floor.

He turned around to find Krycek glaring at him.  "Good morning. Time for the
toilet."

It was only then that he saw it.  A small puddle.  Not all that big.  Probably
about a half cup of liquid.  Just enough for him to wonder if Krycek had decided
to test him.

Skinner made a production of going over to it, crouching and dipping a finger in
the liquid.  He sniffed his finger and, with a grimace of disgust, turned his
attention to the man watching him.

"What did I say, Pet?  I won't tolerate these little messes.  Not under any
circumstance."

He went over and grabbed Krycek by the nape of the neck, hauled him over to the
puddle.

"Lick it up, Pet."

Lips pressed firmly together, Krycek shook his head.

He crouched by his pet, grabbed hold of his head, forcing him to look up at him.
 "This is the situation, Pet.  I'm not asking you, Pet.  I'm *telling* you.  You
clean this up or you can forget about water and food until you do."

He tightened the grip he had on Krycek's head, increasing the pressure on the
points where the jaws met.

Tears of pain streaked out of Krycek's eyes.  Still, he kept his mouth closed.

Skinner allowed his voice to challenge.  "Are you strong enough to put this to
the test?  Can you go without food and water today?  Tomorrow?  I am not
bluffing, Pet.  By now you must know that I mean what I say.  Your decision,
Pet."

And with that he released his grip.  He sat back on his haunches and waited
while Krycek stared at the liquid, working the pain out of his jaws.  After
sending Skinner a glare of absolute hatred over his shoulder, Krycek lowered his
head to the puddle and, grimacing, hesitantly lapped up the urine.

Skinner waited until the floor had been thoroughly cleaned before he rose,
released the chain from the ankle cuffs and pulled Krycek by the belt to the
bathroom.  The man hung limply, making the job more difficult.  That, thought
Skinner, would have to change.  He sat the man on the toilet, tucking his penis
between his legs and into the bowl.  He avoided the sudden butt that Krycek
tried for with his head.  Skinner punished that with a stunning blow to Krycek's
head.

After that little battle, he made certain that he was out of reach while Krycek
looked as though he was pretending Skinner wasn't there.

When Krycek was done, Skinner made a production of wiping Krycek's cock with a
swatch of toilet paper, not bothering to hide his enjoyment of the flush that
suffused Krycek's face. Then, with no warning, he hauled him off the toilet and
back into the room where he once more chained him to the pole with the weights.

"Let me see:  food, water.  That should take care of you for the day."  Skinner
smiled.  "See you when I get home tonight.  I really have no idea when that will
be, so you might like to pace your meal throughout the day.

"Oh, and remember, no messes."

He turned off the light, shut the door, locked it.  And went off to the Bureau
to face the paperwork that had accumulated on his desk.  


Chapter 2:  In Which Training Begins


Skinner came back that evening with another of those purple bags in hand.

He was pleased to see that the bowl was empty, the water bottle as well.  Good. 
That meant his new "pet" was going to be strong enough to fight him.

And certainly showing far more spirit than he had until then.  He was kneeling,
sitting back on his flattened feet, eyes blinking in the light.

"Ah. So nice to see you almost back on your feet, Pet."

Krycek ignored the comment, glaring at Skinner as he refilled the water bottle,
poured more of the Boost into the rinsed-out bowl.

"Okay, Skinner," he finally spat out.  "Let's get on with your little games so
that I can get out of here."

Skinner shook his head, sadly.  "You know, Pet, I don't think you understand
yet.  And I really don't like your attitude.  But, you'll learn."

Krycek scoffed, "Jesus, Skinner, do you seriously think you're the first one
who's played this kind of game with me?  Been there," he mocked, his tone
bitter, "done that."

"Really?  Let me guess.  Spender?"

Krycek managed to look bored.

"What did he do?" Skinner rested his shoulder against the bathroom jamb.  "Rape
you?"

Krycek only curled a lip, showing the white of his teeth, looking for a moment
like the rat Skinner called him.

"Sorry.  I have no intention of putting any part of me in you."

From the scoff, it was obvious Krycek didn't believe him.

"No, I know that many of these kinds of scenarios are about sex, but what you
still haven't grasped, Pet, is that this is no scenario.  This is for real."  He
moved away from the bathroom. "So, I'll just have to see how inventive I can get
without sex, won't I?  Wouldn't do to bore you, Pet.  Still, I'm sure that the
basics are all the same."  And with that he pulled a leather collar out of the
bag.

It was about two inches wide with D-rings at the cardinal points. The locking
mechanism was a male/female device that was not easy to unlock, even with two
hands.

Krycek's reaction was immediate.  With a low, animal growl, he tried to avoid
Skinner, but bound as he was, he really had nowhere to go.  Skinner, grinning at
this display of renewed energy from his pet, quickly grabbed hold of him by the
hair and pulled hard so that Krycek toppled to the floor, teeth gripped in a
feral grimace.

Straddling Krycek's wriggling body, Skinner dropped his weight onto the man's
back, snapped the self-locking collar in place, "See, Pet, as I've said, this is
not a game.  This is for real." He pulled sharply on the hair gripped in his
fist, gave it a solid shake.   "As for letting you go...well, I think you may be
assuming a few things here that you shouldn't."

"Fuck you!"  Krycek's voice was rage-filled.  "If you think I'm just going to
lie here and play Master/Slave games with a mother- fucking cocksucker like
you..."

Skinner slapped him hard on the side of his head, stunning him into silence.  He
pulled over the purple bag and reached in for another item in it, a leather bit
gag.  Strong thighs firmly gripping Krycek's sides, he leaned down and slipped
the gag into the man's mouth before Krycek could react.

"Now then," Skinner stepped to the side, forcing Krycek to turn to keep him in
sight, "I've warned you about profanity, Pet. That little display of temper is
going to cost you tonight's supper.  Hard to lap when your mouth is full, isn't
it, Pet?"

He went to the door, turned off the light.

"Oh, by the way, Pet, if you should be tempted to have another 'little
accident', of any kind, just remember how you cleaned up the first one.  See you
tomorrow morning, Pet."

***

In the morning, Krycek was subdued.  Not that Skinner believed it was going to
last long.  He removed the gag from Krycek's mouth, hauled him into the bathroom
and settled him on the toilet. Though he only urinated, Skinner made a
production of checking to see if he had defecated, wiping his ass with great
care.  Krycek looked straight ahead, obviously ignoring the whole scene.

There was another of the purple bags that night as well, a larger one.

After the evening use of the toilet, Krycek watched silently as Skinner removed
a large bottle of lube, a variety of butt plugs - - from small to obscenely
large -- from it.  Though he said nothing, Krycek's feelings about the
proceedings were clear in the hate-filled glare he sent Skinner.

"Not for tonight, Pet.  For the weekend.  I've decided that I want you in better
form before I begin training you.  So, for tonight, all I want you to do is
think about how these plugs are going to feel going up your ass.  And hope that
I use some of this lube on them or in you before I put them in.

"Supper has now been served.  See you before bed."

This time Skinner left the light on.

Before going to bed, Skinner hauled Krycek into the bathroom, settled his limp
body on the toilet.  When it came time to wipe him clean, Skinner pushed
Krycek's head forward until it was between his knees.  With his pet's ass raised
off the seat, Skinner spent some time with toilet paper wrapped around one of
his fingers, examining Krycek's anus.

Krycek tried to throw himself to one side, but Skinner had a good grip on his 
hair:  besides, he had been expecting something like this.

It was with unconcealed pleasure that, after rechaining Krycek to the weight
post, he slipped another of his purchases, a ball gag, into the man's mouth. 
Not that Krycek lay still for it:  there was a tussle before Skinner got his
way.  And there would be bruises on Krycek's face where Skinner's fingers had
forced open his jaw.

"A little reminder that you are to do only as I tell you.  I never told you to
move off the toilet, Pet.  Still," he stood over the prostrate man, "I do enjoy
a pet with spirit."

In the morning, Skinner removed the gag only after the toilet ritual, fed his
pet and took off for work.  Krycek, when he thought about it between meetings,
had been far too accepting, considering the ratbastard that he was.

He must have worked hard at it all day.  Skinner had to give him credit for
perseverance.

When he entered the room, the first thing he noticed, after he turned on the
light, was that the weight pole had been tipped over, that the weights were now
all on the floor.

And then the door slammed against him.

The breath knocked out of him, Skinner watched as Krycek, good hand grasping the
dangling chains behind him, tried to hop his way out of the room.  Slowly,
Skinner got to his feet; it wasn't as though Krycek were going anywhere.  The
front door was locked and required a key to open, even from the inside.

From the top of the stairwell, he watched, with reluctant admiration, as Krycek
slid his body down the stairs, rolled across the landing and then slid down the
second series of steps to the entry floor.

With a rueful shake of his head, Skinner went after his wayward pet.  He was
taken aback when, instead of making for the front door, Krycek, using the lower
steps as prop, managed to get to his feet and began hopping towards the balcony
door.

Shit! thought Skinner, that door wasn't locked.  And it was a straight seventeen
floors down to the ground.  He wasn't certain that was what Krycek had in mind,
but he wasn't going to chance it.  He grabbed Krycek just as he managed to get
his hand around the door handle.

Skinner tried to pull Krycek to the floor, but Krycek was fighting on an
adrenaline rush.  His head butted Skinner against the jaw and, for a moment, he
saw stars.  But quickly, he managed to get a good grip on the belt so that when
Skinner threw himself down upon the floor, Krycek easily over-balanced and came
with him.

Still, Krycek wasn't ready to give up.  Skinner finally had to stun him with his
boxer's fists into semi-consciousness before Krycek stopped trying to maim him,
any way he could.

The Skinner who hauled Krycek back to the foot of the stairs was not a happy
man.  His jaw ached, he had some bite marks on an arm, was sure that he would
find bruises on his legs where Krycek's feet had tried their best to break a
bone.

He waited until Krycek had revived enough to be aware of Skinner, of the mood he
was in.  Without saying a word, Skinner waited until he had Krycek's full
attention.  Then he slowly unbuckled his belt, drew it out and, with a downward
swing of his arm, brought it down on Krycek's unprotected body.

"Jesus!" yelled Krycek, finally breaking the silence he had maintained all
along.  "You're fucking crazy!"

Skinner crouched next to the naked man and did nothing to hide any of what he
was feeling.  Krycek must have realized that he would get no mercy from this
man:  he pulled back against the steps, trying to get away from him.

"Crazy?  You know, you're probably right.  What's the matter, Pet?  Did you
think that those death games you played with the nanocytes were without
consequences?"

He put his face close to a wide-eyed Krycek.  He spoke in a soft, even voice
which made the man pull back even more, as though he were trying to melt into
the woodwork.  "Any idea what it was like, wondering if *this* time you'd play
it all the way like you had that first time?  Whether you'd go too far and
wouldn't be able to bring me back?"

Skinner held Krycek's eyes, not letting them go even for a blink. What Krycek
saw in them was reflected in the growing horror that appeared on his face.

"Did you seriously think that I would wake up, forgive all and get on with my
life?"

"You acted like it was nothing," shrieked Krycek.  "You never stopped
challenging Spender.  *He's* the one who ordered me to do that to you.  I never
did it on my own!  Only under orders!"

Krycek's eyes widened even more at Skinner's reaction to that. Then Skinner
straightened, swung the belt down, hard.  Krycek screamed, "Spender ordered the
nanocytes.  Every time.  You want revenge, why don't you go after him?"

"First of all," Skinner snarled, "because he's not available, and you are. 
You're right here.  And secondly, you're the one who held the palm pilot in his
hand."

"Fuck you!  I was only following orders!"

"I told you before, Pet," and Skinner swung once more, "that didn't work as an
excuse at Nuremberg.  It doesn't work now. Besides," he spat, "you enjoyed
yourself too much."

Skinner didn't say another word.  Krycek got the message quickly. Chains
dragging behind him, using his knees, his stump, slowly he managed to drag
himself back up the stairs and into the room he had tried so hard to escape. 
All the while he had as little success escaping the punishing blows of Skinner's
belt.

At first, he twisted his body, trying to avoid the blows, all the while cursing
Skinner, but, by the time he collapsed on the floor just beyond the doorway of
his prison, his body striped from shoulders to ankles, he was incoherently
screaming what Skinner took to be Russian obscenities.

And, though his anger had cooled during the trip up the stairs, Skinner didn't
stop slamming down the belt until he heard the words he had been waiting for. 
Only when Krycek sobbed, "Please, Master, please," did he stay his hand.

Skinner was surprised to find that he was breathing hard, as though at the end
of a long workout.  He worked on controlling his breath as he listened to
Krycek's sobbing.

Still without a word, he set about replacing the chains on the weight pole, the
weights that Krycek had worked so hard to remove.

Krycek had one last attempt in him.  Uttering an animal growl, he tried to kick
out with his feet when Skinner came close.  Skinner managed to counter it with a
kick of his own, into Krycek's stomach.  He was in no mood to tolerate any more
shenanigans.

This time he made certain that Krycek was bound securely, with very little
leeway to get into mischief.

He forced the bit gag into Krycek's mouth and snapped it on as tightly as he
could.  As a last gesture of his displeasure, he pulled off his tie, placed
Krycek's balls and penis through the loop.  He pulled tightly, ignoring Krycek's
muted scream, then knotted the silk so that it wouldn't slip loose throughout
the night.

Then he went to check himself out in his bathroom.

The only thing he did when he looked in on Krycek in the morning was remove his
tie from the reddened cock and balls.

***

"You'll be happy to know," said Skinner, the next night, as he poured another
can of Boost into the bowl, "that your training begins tomorrow morning."

They were the first words that Skinner had spoken since the escape attempt.  He
now unchained Krycek only to use the toilet, then he immediately rechained him
to the post, which had had more weights added to it.

Krycek continued lapping the liquid, ignoring Skinner who roughly traced the
fading signs of the belt's work on his pet's body. Krycek, too, had remained
silent since then.  Skinner wondered if his pet thought this would be accepted
as a sign of penitence. He smiled:  as if that were all he was seeking!  Still,
he'd allowed him that thought, but soon, very soon, his pet was going to realize
that he had meant what he'd said.

When the door opened on that Saturday morning, Skinner made it obvious that
things were going to be different.  To begin with, he didn't take Krycek to the
toilet though he did feed him.

And then Skinner went out and returned with a box, a box with tools and a
variety of restraints.

As Krycek silently lapped his meal, Skinner bore holes into the flooring and
sub-flooring, and, using six inch bolts, secured restraints with thick, welded
metal rings.  When the floor was eventually studded with the restraints, he
tested each and every one by looping a belt through the ring and letting his
weight pull against the metal.

Skinner bolted a couple to the floor of the bathroom, one of which already had a
short chain with a hook on the end attached to it.  He bolted two at each end of
the top beam where the closet doors used to hang, added two more closer to the
centre and tested all of them by letting his weight sag as he dangled from the
belt.

Each and every one of the restraints held true.

Skinner noticed that Krycek's eyes were following every move he made, looking
more uneasy.

Satisfied, Skinner cleared the tools out and carefully vacuumed all the wood and
cement dust off the floor.

He spent some minutes in the bathroom, putting supplies away in the medicine
cabinet, running water, using his body as a blind to his actions.

Before he released Krycek from his chains, he attached a short leather lead to
one of the D-rings on the collar he wore.  He never again moved Krycek around
without securing the lead to the collar.  Not caring whether Krycek could keep
up with him, Skinner pulled the lead into the bathroom.

There, he waited until Krycek had finished on the toilet, pushed him off to
kneel at his feet.

"Now then, Pet.  Every Saturday will begin with a proper cleaning.  I think
we'll start with your teeth.  Been a while since they've been brushed."

Skinner reached into the sink for the red toothbrush he had already prepared
with some paste.  He held it to Krycek's mouth.

"You will open your mouth for me, Pet, or I will put a brace in it that will
keep it open all the time."

Barely bothering to hide his glare, Krycek slowly opened his mouth.

Skinner sat on the closed toilet lid, grabbed hold of Krycek's hair with one
hand and ran the toothbrush in his mouth.  The manner in which Krycek spat out
the paste into the tub was expressive.  Skinner grinned, reached out with a
finger to stroke the bearded face.  "I wouldn't," he said casually as he read
the desire to bite on the other's face.

"The beard really has to come off.  It's messy."  He roughly passed his hand
over the matted hair, glued together with dried Boost.  "Gets in the way of your
eating properly.  I think we'll make it part of your Saturday ritual that it
comes off."

This time, Skinner placed his knees on either side of the kneeling man and held
him tightly.  With the other hand still gripping his hair, Skinner filled the
sink with hot water, managed to get some foaming lather onto Krycek's face and
pulled out an open bag of disposable razors from the medicine cabinet. Then,
using blade after blade as each got clogged with beard, Skinner shaved Krycek
until he was satisfied with the results.

"There, nice and smooth.  Like a baby's bum.  And, speaking of which, we now
come to the next part of the Saturday ritual."

With that, he hauled Krycek up and over the edge of the tub, head down, ass up
in the air.

Quickly, Skinner attached the short chain from the bathroom floor restraint to
the links between Krycek's ankle manacles.  Every time Krycek tried to lift his
body out of the bath, Skinner slapped him on the back of the head.

Sitting on the toilet lid, Skinner leaned over, anchoring his weight behind the
elbow he rested in the small of Krycek's back. "I'd be careful about moving, if
I were you.  I've never shaved a man's ass before.  You wouldn't want to move
suddenly.  Might end up losing something."

He used some of the same shaving lather and more of the disposable razors. 
Krycek, he noted, held very still so that, though leaning against him,  Skinner
could actually use both hands, one to spread his ass cheeks so that the other
could use the razor to shave his crack clean.

While he still had a "co-operative" pet, he inserted a greased fingertip, not
too gently, into Krycek's anus and moved it about until he got a grunt from the
man.  Then he replaced his finger with the nozzle of the enema bag he had
prepared, squeezing the water into Krycek's rectum until the bag was empty.

"Now then," said Skinner, in a conversational tone, "I know that five or so
minutes are the norm for holding water in.  But these are not normal
circumstances.  I want you to get used to holding it in for much longer periods
of time."  Ignoring Krycek's muttered obscenity, he continued.  "We'll start
with ten, by my watch.  I'll add more time with each cleaning.  Maybe I'll set
up a clock in here so you can time it yourself.

"I'm assuming that your muscles haven't yet been trained to hold the water in
all that time without help.  So for this occasion, and maybe the next, I'm
leaving the nozzle in.  It'll give you something to squeeze against.  But don't
expect this sort of treat to come often.  You'll learn to do this properly, or
we'll start over again.  And if we have to, I'll have to add five more minutes
to the time involved."

When the cramps began, Krycek twitched, cursed under his breath, trying to find
a position that would ease the pressure on his bowels.  Skinner pinched the soft
flesh of the undercurve of his pet's ass -- hard.  "Stay still, Pet, or we start
this all over again."

When the ten minutes were up, Skinner stood up, keeping a hand on Krycek's back.
 "No water comes out until you're sitting, Pet. If any does, you will lick it
off the floor."  He pulled the nozzle out quickly but Krycek's anus closed
tightly on the water. With a grin, Skinner hauled Krycek's body onto the toilet.

Bent over double, Krycek voided.

"Next week, you will ask for permission to void.  If I don't give it, you'll
have to learn to hold it in until I say you can."

He waited until Krycek was done to turn on the faucets in the tub.   He unlocked
the chain from the ankle manacles, pushed the man off the toilet and into the
tub.  "Bath time.  Something else you'll have to ask for from now on, Pet."

Skinner roughly washed Krycek down, pulled him out of the water and dried him
even more roughly.  Using the lead that was still attached to the collar,
Skinner pulled his unwilling "pet" back into the room.  There, taking a short
chain out of his pocket, he locked one end to the back D-ring on the collar and
the other end to one of the floor restraints.  Then, pulling out a slightly
longer chain from another pocket, he turned Krycek over onto his back and
chained him by the ankles to yet another floor restraint.  Satisfied that Krycek
would not be going anywhere, Skinner left the room, only to return with another
of the purple bags.

"Now then, Pet, we're going to start your training today.  Up till now, I've
been rather lenient..." It was evident from the sound that came out of his pet's
throat that his pet didn't agree with him. "Yes, lenient with you, but no more. 
A good pet is a well trained pet, and that's what you're going to be.  While I
know that right now, you're not feeling very co-operative..."

"Fuck you, Skinner," Krycek finally snarled.

"There, you see. That's exactly what I mean.  I've told you before, I don't want
to hear any profanity coming out of your mouth, but have you listened?  You
know, it seems that I'm not the only one that feels that way.  There's a little
thing that someone's invented that should train you out of that.

"Now let me see...I pour some of this liquid soap into this end of the bit...see
the nice sponge...that's to protect your mouth...mind you, I also understand
that if you bite down too hard, you end up with a mouthful of soap.  If I
squeeze...Well, what do you know, it works."  Skinner sounded absolutely
delighted.  He felt even more delighted when Krycek, lips tightly clenched,
denied him his mouth.

Skinner crouched by his reluctant pet and grabbed his head between his hands. 
With a smile, he used his thumbs to press where the upper and lower jaws met. 
Krycek resisted only a little longer.  When his mouth opened to release the
pressure, Skinner quickly slid the bit into his mouth and snapped it, loose
enough so that if the soap made Krycek vomit, he wouldn't drown in it.

Krycek's face was priceless at his first taste of the soap. Skinner had sniffed
and even tasted several before deciding on this particularly foul brand. 
Moreover, he noticed, his pet was doing his best to keep his mouth open wide so
that there was as little contact as possible with the sponge bit.

"Yes, well, we'll see how that works on your attitude.  Now then, let's work on
position.

"From now on, when I come in, I will expect you to be in a respectful position. 
I don't assume that you will do so just on my request, so, let's see what's in
the bag that will help you".

Skinner reached in and took out a wand with lined plastic cuffs at each end.

Forcing Krycek's knees apart so that the loose chain at his feet was now taut,
he knelt over Krycek's feet.  "Now. let me see.  I think I'll attach these above
your knees.  Yes, like that.  But how wide apart do I want you to keep your
legs?  Yes, I think twenty-four inches."

Skinner stood, stepped away from a glaring Krycek and looked him over carefully.
 "Yes, I think I rather like this position on you.  And it leaves your genitals
free for any attention I may decide to grant them."  He nodded, satisfied with
the expression of fear that had flashed over his pet's face on that last note.
Yes, his pet was beginning to accept just how serious he was with his
intentions.  "Just because I have no intention of using you sexually, doesn't
mean that your genitals will be spared.

"Oh, and I do realize that your muscles may take some time to get used to that
position, Pet, but they will."

The sound of Krycek suddenly gagging, hawking made Skinner pause.

"I think the position you're in may be a tad dangerous for you, considering that
bit, so I think...yes, if you're turned around, it will be much safer.  Wouldn't
do to lose you just as we start your training, now would it?"

Skinner unlocked one end of the foot chain, bodily moved Krycek so that his
weight now rested on his shoulders, his knees under him.  A line of soapy drool
made its way to the floor.

"I think I rather like you that way, Pet.  Let's see what we can do to train you
to that position."

Skinner rummaged in the box, found a length of chain.  He attached one end to
the front of the collar, attached a link to the waist belt, wound it twice
tightly around the knee spreader and attached the other end to the ankle
manacles so that Krycek's ass was now high in the air, with his knees
perpendicular to it. To keep Krycek from pulling his ankles closer, Skinner used
yet another link of chain that locked the ankles to the floor restraint.  Krycek
could neither pull his feet forward nor move them backward.  As an added
measure, Skinner used a very short chain between collar and floor.

His pet was locked into position.

Skinner crouched by the man, pulled his head up, as high as it could go, by the
hair.  "This is the position I'm going to keep you in until your body thinks
it's its natural one.  You'll never be allowed to walk on your feet, Pet. 
Personally, I've always found that making animals walk on their hind feet is
nothing more than a party trick.  And it's insulting to the dignity of animals. 
To the dignity of pets.

"You'll learn to endure a great deal, Pet, but walking on your hind extremities
is an indignity I promise never to submit you to."  He smiled.  "One day, you
will thank me for this decision, Pet."

Krycek's hatred blazed from his eyes.

Skinner removed his watch, set it where Krycek would have no trouble seeing it. 
"One hour.  It's now 10:21.  At 11:21, I'll be back.  Remember, I told you that
when I tell you something, I can be counted on to keep my word.  One hour, Pet."

At exactly 11:20 by Skinner's watch, the door opened and Skinner came to crouch
by Krycek.  "See, Pet.  One hour.  When I remove the gag, I expect you to thank
me, or I'll have to reinsert it again for another hour."  He reached over and
unsnapped the soapy bit, removed it out of Krycek's mouth.

On the floor by Krycek's mouth, there was a small pool of soapy drool.  Krycek
spat onto the floor, several times, by it, trying to rid his mouth of the soapy
saliva that permeated it.  "Thank you, Master," he sneered.

Skinner was inwardly pleased at this display of spirit. Outwardly, he just shook
his head sadly.  "Pet, Pet.  What did I say about messes?  If you want some
water, you're going to have to clean that up first."

Skinner smiled at the look Krycek managed to send his way.  He knew that
whatever profanities Krycek wanted to throw at him didn't make it out of
Krycek's throat.  His pet was a quick learner.

He stood.  "I'll be right back, Pet, and I want to see the floor cleaned up.  If
it isn't, I will punish you, Pet.  And I want you to understand right now that
training is not punishment.  So far, this has only been training.  Whether it
moves into punishment is up to you.  It will always be up to you.  I will always
make my wishes clear.  If you follow them, that is training.  If you don't, then
I promise you right now that you will be punished and that the punishment will
be such that you will understand the difference between training and
punishment."

The floor was almost clean when he returned.

Skinner smiled at his pet.  "Good boy.  Now I understand that soap is quite
laxative.  For this time, you will let me know should you need the toilet.  I'm
sure you'll remember what I've said about your cleaning up any little messes you
make."

He placed a bowl with water by Krycek's mouth.  As Krycek went for it, Skinner
pulled it back.  "I think you forgot something, Pet."

Krycek closed his eyes, swallowed dryly.  "Please, Master."

"If I ever have to remind you again, Pet, you won't get any." He pushed the bowl
back to Krycek.

"Thank you, Master."

"Excellent, Pet.  See, you can be trained.  Hurry and drink that, so we can move
on to the next step of your training."

***

"When I attach the lead to your collar, that's the signal that you're going for
a walk.  Now I realize that considering the position you're in, this may be
difficult, but I think that with some practice, you'll get by.  It's not as
though I expect you to run a marathon.  Keep your shoulders on the floor, move
your knees up.  Together.  Shift your weight onto your shoulders and try again. 
Now lift your shoulders just off the floor...No, I don't want to see them more
than a couple of inches off the floor!  Move forward.  Now the knees.  Now the
shoulders.  Yes, that's the way.  I'm sure you'll go faster once you get the
hang of it.

"Now remember that I expect you to heel at all times.  This lead is short, but
if I ever put you on a longer one, I'll still expect you to heel."

The lesson went slowly.  Apart from the fact that he was no longer restrained
onto the floor, Krycek was bound with hand behind back, spreader at knees,
ankles fettered.  And he was not a co-operative participant in the lesson. 
Skinner said nothing, just pulled his belt off and used it as encouragement
whenever his pet hesitated.

In spite of this, after a turn around the room, Krycek refused to move.  Skinner
tugged on the leash, but Krycek let his body sag down, his knees tucked under
his torso.

Skinner frowned.  He released the leash and took the step necessary to reach for
yet another purple bag on the bathroom counter.  In that time, Krycek turned,
tried to get onto his feet.

Skinner grabbed for the leash and, catching it, yanked hard so that Krycek ended
up on his back, knees up in the air.  Taking a short length of chain from his
pocket, Skinner locked Krycek's collar to a near-by floor restraint.  He had
been right, he thought, to set up so many of these around the room.

Silent, Krycek tried to pull away from Skinner's hands.  Also silent, Skinner
manhandled him so that he was on his stomach, knees on the floor, avoiding the
feet flaying the air.  It was the matter of seconds for Skinner to attach the
knee spreader to another restraint.

It was a matter of mere moments to slip the leather bit into Krycek's mouth. 
Skinner was getting quite proficient at that.

Then Skinner left the room, came back with a chair.  He reached down and raised
Krycek's feet, then set the chair down by Krycek's knees, quickly seating
himself in it.

"I've told you that you were in charge of punishment, Pet.  And I was serious. 
You still seem to have some trouble believing me. I also told you that I didn't
want to see you walk on your feet. But you disobeyed me just now and tried to. 
This does require punishment.  It will be painful, but I think that lessons
learned with pain are not soon forgotten.

"When I am done, I expect you to thank me for caring enough about your training
to punish you when you break the rules."

Holding Krycek's ankles between his knees, Skinner brought down a short, thin,
leather strap on the soles of Krycek's feet.

Krycek was too stunned with the first blow to react.  But with the second he
tried to drag his feet from Skinner's grip. Skinner merely raised his own feet,
wrapped each of his legs around Krycek's calves, holding him firmly, and never
missed a beat.

"I learnt to do this in Vietnam, Pet.  There's an art to it. Hard enough to get
the message across.  Not so hard so that there would be questions asked.  Not
that there were many questions asked by the time I got there.  Amazing how
quickly we could get answers from people who didn't want to talk to us using
this."

As the pain built up, Krycek twisted, writhed, did his best to pull his feet
away but Skinner never lost his grip.  The soles went from striped pink to red
to welted to the accompaniment of a variety of cries that crescendoed into
screams.

When the sounds coming from Krycek were totally incoherent, Skinner paused to
examine his handiwork.  "I hope," he told the sobbing man, "that this message
has gotten through that thick skull of yours, Pet."

He stood up, pushed back the chair and lay the welted feet on the floor.  He
placed the chair out in the hallway, went into the bathroom for a glass of
water.  This had been surprisingly thirsty work.  After drinking, he brought
another out, crouching by the man who was still sobbing his pain.  He unsnapped
the bit.

"I'll bet all that screaming has made your throat dry.  Would you like some
water, Pet?"

He waited until Krycek found the breath to gasp, "Yes.  Please. Master."

"First, thank me for your punishment."

Head resting on the floor, eyes closed, face wet with tears, sweat, mucus, body
trembling, Krycek bit his lower lip then, with a whimper, moaned, "Thank you,
Master."

Skinner placed the glass on the floor, released the knee spreader from its ring,
turned Krycek's body.  He screamed again as his feet touched the floor.  Skinner
slipped his hand under Krycek's head and held the glass to his mouth.  And held
it there until Krycek emptied it, little by little, between sobs, coughs.


Chapter 3:  In Which Decorations Play a Part


Skinner opened the door and smiled at the picture he saw waiting for him.

His pet was in position, head hooded, shoulders to the floor, knees still held
apart by the spreader, ankles fettered, top of feet flat on the floor.  Ass high
in the air.  As it had been since the time Skinner had entered the room silently
and had found his pet's ass lower than what he expected.  The new strap he had
just purchased at the store that furnished the purple bags had proven quite
effective.

Even gagged and hooded, Krycek's screams had given Skinner great pleasure.  It
always surprised him just how much.

And the addition of the hood that first night had produced much more
co-operation on the part of his pet.  Not at first.  At first, he had found some
more of that fighting spirit that so pleased Skinner.

Skinner had chained him into position for the night, with only a little trouble,
but when he had pulled the loose cotton hood out of the purple bag, his pet had
lost all his new found co- operation.  It had been a struggle to get the hood
over his head but thankfully the neck closure was velcroed and closable with
only one hand.

How good of his pet to have handed him another tool for his training.  It made
him wonder if, for some reason, his pet was afraid of the dark.  If so, too bad.

He had taken it off only to feed his pet, pointing out to him that the cotton
around the mouth portion was woven loose enough for him to water himself if he
worked at it.

Now, after two days, his pet's position was everything he wanted it to be.  The
hood and all that time spent chained in position had accomplished much.  It was
now time to move on.

After the evening visit to the toilet and his feeding, Skinner positioned his
subdued pet on his back, feet chained to the floor, knees still spread apart,
leaving his genitals open to Skinner's touch.  The gag in his mouth was a plain
leather bit.

"Now we will begin the next phase of training, Pet.  It is time for you to
learn, and accept, that your body belongs to me."  His hands were lightly
stroking the body waiting for his training. His pet's eyes were watching his,
intent and worried.  He smiled. "For me to do with as I please.  And what I
please is to teach it to accept any pain that I wish to give it.

"Why?"  His hand caressed his pet's genitals, cupping his scrotum, giving a
slight squeeze to the flaccid penis.

"Because of all the pain you caused.  You, yourself, Pet.  Yes, yes, I know. 
You were only following orders.  But your, ah...previous, masters aren't at
hand, and you are.  And you did enjoy following those orders, Pet.  No, no. 
Don't shake your head like that, Pet.  We both know you did."

His fingertips skimmed the small brown pebbles that were his pet's nipples. 
"You knew what had happened to Scully and you knew what it did to Mulder.  You
knew that they were planning to abduct her.  What they were going to do to her. 
You let the cancer play havoc with Scully's life.  I'm even certain you knew
about Emily.  Are you the one who led Scully to her daughter in time to see her
die?"

Krycek shook his head vigorously, gargled sounds of denial coming from the bit.

Skinner ignored him, watching the trail of goosebumps his touch was rising on
his pet's skin.

"Then there is what you did to Mulder.  All that trust you built between the two
of you, only to shatter it.  Mulder is not someone who trusts easily.  Your
betrayal made it all that much harder for those of us who care for him.  And all
that information you had about Samantha, about his father, about his life.  All
the things you knew about him, that you used to hurt him, to batter his spirit."
 He smiled at his pet, watching the worry in his eyes turn to fear.  "And that's
not taking into account all the things you did to me.

"You do have to pay for all that, Pet."

Skinner's voice turned cold.  "And you will thank me for each session when it is
over, or I will punish you."

Skinner rested another of those purple bags on the floor within reach.  The
first thing he removed were a pair of clamps.  "I know that I should begin with
a pair of the novice level, but these really appealed to me.  I think they'll
look very good on you."

Skinner placed one of the rubber-coated clawed clamps on Krycek's nipple,
letting the spring snap hard onto it.  Eyes filling with sudden tears, Krycek
gasped behind the bit, his chest rising as though to throw off the hard grip on
sensitive flesh.  Skinner didn't give him any time to adjust to the first.  The
second elicited an even louder sound from the bit-filled mouth.

Skinner lay on the floor next to his pet, watching his reaction. "No, Pet, eyes
open."  He gripped Krycek's hair and tugged sharply.  "I do not give you
permission to close your eyes.  Your pain must be visible to me at all times. 
Open them or I will punish you.  Yes.  That's better.  Let me see your pain. 
Let me see how you accept it.  Like I accepted the pain when you played with the
nanocytes.  Like Scully accepted she was going to die of that cancer.  Like
Mulder accepted that his sister was never coming back."

Skinner stroked the hair off Krycek's face.  Once, when Krycek tried to turn his
face away from Skinner's examination, Skinner grabbed him by the chin and yanked
his face back to him, grip tight enough to leave bruises.  "No, you do not have
permission to look away.  Your pain is what I want, Pet.  Your obedience and
your pain."

Slowly, as he watched, Krycek's gasping eased to short breaths as his body got
used to the level of the pain, as he controlled his body's reaction to it, as he
accepted it.  Skinner smiled approvingly.  "Yes, that's it, Pet.  That's good. 
But you forgot to thank me, Pet."

Krycek closed his eyes, quickly gasping through the bit what Skinner assumed was
"Thank you, Master."

In response, Skinner rubbed his free hand over one of the clamps causing Krycek
to scream at the suddenness of the pain that flared in his chest.  "Eyes,
remember the eyes stay open, stay on me, Pet.  Yes, hate me all you want, show
me that you hate me. That will make you strong.  It will help you endure the
pain that is just beginning."  And he rubbed the other clamp.

As tears ran down the sides of Krycek's face, Skinner removed the gag.  His
pet's screams were too lovely to mute.  He kept on stroking Krycek's hair,
murmuring his pleasure at his pet's pain. "Beautiful.  Pain looks so very good
on you, Pet.  And your screams are like music.  See, when I play your body like
an instrument, you scream in different keys. Interesting."  And he tugged on the
clamps, rubbed the now swollen membranes, twisted the clamps, all to the
accompaniment of Krycek's screams and Russian curses.

After some time, Skinner decided some variety would add spice to the evening's
play.  He had plans for the coming weekend, and he wanted his pet to be ready
for that training.  He removed the clamps, left Krycek alone for an hour,
allowing him time to recover from his "musical composition", allowing his body
to become accustomed to the throbbing pain in his nipples.

Skinner was delighted to see the fear in Krycek's eyes when he entered the room.

"What do you want of me!" Krycek screamed as Skinner approached him with another
purple bag.

Skinner crouched by his pet, grabbed him tightly by the jaw.  "I want to own
you," he bit out.  "All of you.  Inside, outside. Your every thought...every
breath...will be of me.  You *will* accept that I can do whatever I want to you,
because I have that right.  I earned that right when I survived.  And you will
pay for that right...I earned it because of you!"

Krycek shook his head, whimpered, "You're insane!"

Skinner grinned.  "I think we've already decided that's a given, Pet."

"Look, Sk...Master.  Listen to me.  Please," Krycek begged. "I've got money. 
Lots of it.  I can get it to you.  Please."

Skinner sat up and examined his pet's face.  The eyes were intense in their
pleading.  Tears of pain still streaked his cheeks.  His lower lip was swollen
from his biting it when he had, at first, tried to contain his screams.

Sighing, Skinner shook his head.  "You still don't get it, do you, Pet?"

"It's millions.  In bonds.  In cash.  In Switzerland."

Krycek's anxiety was so very obvious, thought Skinner.  "Just when did you have
the chance to gather all these riches, Pet?"

"Not mine.  The Consortium's."  Krycek took a deep breath and Skinner realized
that his pet thought that he was seriously interested.  "A lot of the stuff
belonged to the old men who were burnt in the hangar at El Rico Base.  More than
enough for you.

"You could even share some with Scully and Mulder,"  Krycek managed to sound
enthusiastic.  "To make up for what happened to them.  For what happened to you.
 You could retire.  Go away somewhere and never have to worry about money ever
again.  I have the numbers to some of the accounts.  I know where to find
others.  I'll give them you.

"Look.  All you have to do is take me to the bank.  You pick up the first batch
of bonds, cash and I'll show you how to find the others.  Then you let me go." 
Krycek's smile was suddenly confident.

Skinner smiled and as his grew, Krycek's wavered.  "Pet, Pet, Pet.  Do you
really think money is the answer?  Well, I *really* hate to discourage you..."

"Ah, come on," Krycek laughed nervously, "there's probably more money in those
accounts than you've ever dreamt of having."

Skinner shook his head, still smiling.

"Look.  I've said I'm sorry.  Come on, Skinner," Krycek's voice was desperate,
"what more do you want?"

"I've told you, Pet.  I want your pain and your obedience."  He reached over and
pinched one of the swollen nipples hard, making Krycek scream again.  "And it's
'Master', Pet.  I never want to hear you address me any other way ever again." 
He pinched harder still, turning the flesh between his thumb and index finger
white.

When Krycek's screams abated, he nodded.  "Now, on with your training."

He took several rings, each about a half inch in width, out of the bag and
dangled them in front of Krycek's eyes.  "You've got a nice pair of balls, Pet. 
But pretty as they are, they could stand improvement.  They sit far too close to
your body for my purposes.  So, from now on, you're going to be decorated.  I
realize that these are rather plain, but eventually, when I deem it time, I'll
find you something finer to wear."

Skinner went to sit on the floor by Krycek's feet.  He moved so that his legs
lay on either side of the spread knees, Krycek's genitals at hand.

"No, please.  Master."

Skinner loved the begging tone in his pet's voice.  "But I am pleased."  He
spent some time examining the egg-sized balls in their loose covering, playing
with them, rolling them around in their casing.  "You have a good pair of balls,
Pet.  Nice and firm."  He gave them a hard squeeze.  Krycek's hips rose as he
tried to choke back a scream.  "There was this boy in a brothel in Nam.  His
hung down to mid-thigh.  Below his cock.  They swayed when he walked.  I rather
like the idea of yours swaying like that."

With a smile that Krycek could see, he pulled on the man's balls with one hand,
stretching the skin between them and the perineum while, with the other, he
slipped on one of the rings, locked it shut.  It was a tight fit.

Krycek's hips moved as though he were trying to escape.  "No, please.  Master,
please.  I'm sorry.  Forgive me.  I'm begging you."

Skinner merely tightened his hold on Krycek's balls and the movement stopped
immediately.

"Good Pet.  I was right about you.  You learn so quickly.  It's going to be such
a pleasure training you."

He kept the pressure even on Krycek's balls, ignoring yet appreciating the
assorted gasps, grunts, moans that Krycek tried to hold back as Skinner slipped
another of the rings on.  And then another.  And finally a fourth.  There was
barely any room left for it.  Skinner had to tug harder to get it to fit before
he could finally slip it on.  Then he released Krycek's balls.

"Oh, god!" whimpered Krycek.

Skinner smiled at his pet's sweat-slicked face.  "Uncomfortable, rather than
painful, I would think.  I understand that the pain builds so that you have
something to look forward to, my Pet. Whenever I feel like it, I'll add another
to the collection.  By the way, these won't come off until I am satisfied with
the way your balls hang."

With a raised eyebrow, Skinner flicked his fingers against the now darkening
mass that were Krycek's balls.  He smiled at the reaction he got:  Krycek's hips
rose sharply accompanied by a gargled shout.

For the next hour, Skinner lay beside Krycek as he fought to control his
vocalizations as Skinner played with his body: pinching or twisting his nipples,
putting the clamps back on for a few minutes, playing with them, taking them
off, reaching down under his cock to tug at or pinch his balls.  All the while
ignoring his pet's pleas for forgiveness, he murmured in Krycek's ear:  "Yes, it
hurts.  It has to hurt.  You owe us so much pain, Pet.  And I love what pain
does to you, my Pet. It looks so good on you.  It sounds so beautiful.  Far
better than I ever imagined.

"You know, I think I'm going to leave you like this until bedtime.  Yes.  I have
some reports I have to deal with. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. 
Use the time to take the pain within you, Pet.  Learn to accept it.  That would
really please me."

He replaced the claw clamps with lighter ones, not wanting to permanently damage
his pet.  Not yet, at least.

He slipped the gag back into his pet's mouth.  "Not much purpose in your yelling
if I'm not here to listen to you, is there, Pet?"

When he came to settle his pet for the night, Skinner found him with his eyes
slightly unfocused, body covered with a fine sheen of sweat.  Skinner removed
the clamps and enjoyed the sounds Krycek made as blood recirculated in the
stretched, whitened peaks.  He waited until the sounds had diminished to remove
the bit from Krycek's mouth.  The leather was indented with teeth marks, sodden
from saliva.

Krycek was slow to respond to his training.  Skinner actually had to pinch one
of the now swelling nubs for him to remember.

"Thank you, Master!" he screamed.

"I had to remind you, Pet.  Now there will have to be punishment."  And he
cruelly twisted first one nipple then the other.  "Remember, I warned you. 
There is training and then there is punishment.  I'm the one in charge of
training.  You, and only you, are in charge of punishment."

He attached the short leash to Krycek's collar, unlocked the chains that held
him to the floor and rolled him over so that he was in the correct position to
heel.  In the bathroom, as Krycek sat on the toilet, his swollen balls hit the
side of the seat. He went white, stopped breathing.  Skinner quickly settled him
on the seat, leaned him forward and hit him with the flat of his hand squarely
between the shoulders.  Krycek exhaled and began breathing again.

The next night, Skinner played the same game with his pet's body, using a
tighter set of nipple clamps and roughly amusing himself with Krycek's balls. 
Playing yet another composition on his pet's body.

"Yes, much better, Pet.  You're accepting this much better." He released the
tight clamp from one nipple.  Krycek groaned. "Does that hurt, Pet?  Tell me,
does it hurt?"

It took his pet a moment to respond.  "Yes, Master."

"It hurts?"

"Yes, Master, it hurts."

Skinner leaned over his pet's chest, took his face in his hand, forcing him to
look directly at him.  "How does it hurt, Pet? Tell me what it feels like."

His pet seemed to need some incentive.  Skinner replaced the clamp, watching his
pet catch his eyes as they were about to close.  "I want you to tell me how it
feels when I remove the clamp, Pet.  If you don't, then I'll just have to leave
it on all night, now won't I?"  He pulled the clamp off.

Krycek screamed, "It hurts!"  He panted to control his voice so that his words
could be heard.  "It...feels like...you're pulling...my tit off my body. 
Master."

"Now there's an idea," smiled Skinner.  His pet eyed him with horror behind the
pain.  "Fortunately for you, I'm not that keen on the sight of blood.  And I do
want you well and healthy for your training.

"Do remember to keep your eyes on me when I'm with you."  His tone turned
threatening.  "I understand that there are special clamps I can get that keep
your eyelids open.  I don't think you would be fond of that.  So don't push me
to use them.

"Besides," he smiled, voice now soothing, gently weaving a net around Krycek, 
"you have nothing to hide, my Pet.  Pain makes your eyes even more beautiful.  I
remember the first time I saw you in Headquarters, when I gave that speech to
the new intake. That surprises you, does it?"  He passed a soothing hand along
the side of his pet's face.

"Yes, Master," gasped his pet.  "I didn't think..."

"You didn't think I noticed you?   I did.  The first things I noticed about you
were your eyes.  How green they are.  How beautiful."  He wiped at the stream of
tears trailing from the eyes he was admiring.

"And beautiful as they were then, they are so much more beautiful now.   They
show me that you are accepting the pain it pleases me to give you.  And that
acceptance also pleases me.  It will please me so much more, Pet, when you're
the one who asks me for it.  Ah, I see disbelief in your lovely eyes.  But you
will.  One day, you will come to me of your own volition and ask me to give you
pain.  As you thank me now, then you will beg me for it.

"We're not there yet.  Not by a long shot.  But we will get there, my Pet."

That night, instead of chaining Krycek to the floor as he usually did, Skinner
placed him again in the same position he had been in all evening, on his back.

"See these clamps.  Nothing like what I've been using on you. Just plain, nice,
ordinary training clamps.  Not even tight. Very gentle, all things considered,
now that you've trained with real ones.  See, they barely hold.  Tonight, you'll
wear these, to please me.  If I come in tomorrow morning and find they've fallen
off, I promise you I won't be pleased.  And I think you're learning that you
only want to please me, aren't you, Pet?"

Krycek licked his lips, eyes focused on the clamps that Skinner dangled in front
of him.  He swallowed hard.  "Yes, Master," he whispered.

Skinner smiled, blew a stream of air over the closer nipple. Krycek reacted
beautifully:  he screamed, his body arcing.  He screamed again when Skinner
released the clamps on the tenderized flesh.

Skinner waited until Krycek managed to gasp out, "Thank you, Master."  Then he
gave his pet's tear-streaked face a last caress and left him to manage.

***

Saturday began with the usual ritual.  Skinner shaved his pet's face, all the
while humming to himself.  He was looking forward to today's activities.

During the week, he had made a few modifications to the bathroom.

The tub was now surrounded with a brace on which were attached several large
rings, one of which now restrained Krycek's hand. For the first time since he'd
been caught, Krycek's ankles were released from the fetters and restrained to
either side of the brace.  He lay, flat on his back, legs spread apart, in the
tub.

"Yes, your feet are healing well, Pet.  Another facet about you that pleases me:
 you heal fast."  He roughly passed his hand along one sole.  Krycek winced,
stopped himself in time from trying to pull away from his Master's touch. 
Skinner smiled, was rougher with the other but Krycek managed to hold the foot
still.

"Did you know," Skinner spoke in his office lecturing voice, "that the average
human colon can hold up to six quarts of water? Did you know this, Pet?"

"No, Master."  Krycek's voice was bland, as though none of this interested him.

"I don't think that on a first go you're going to match that, but I think three
or four are a distinct possibility."  He pointed up to the shower head and the
enema bag that hung there.  "I fixed that this morning.  It holds about two
quarts of water so it's not really large enough, but I've prepared more of the
solution. According to the instructions I found on the Internet...It's amazing
what people will reveal of themselves on the Internet, Pet...Water and a little
salt so that the colon won't absorb any of the water.  I understand that it may
not be very comfortable, but that too is as it should be."

Skinner knelt by the side of the tub, reached up for the nozzle that was hooked
through the control clamp on the hose.  Then he leaned over, with a finger
roughly inserted, greased open Krycek's anus.  Before he had time to do more
than gasp, Skinner pulled his finger out, inserted the nozzle and pushed it in
almost its full length.

"I think this bag to begin with."  And Skinner released the clamp, watched
Krycek's face as the solution penetrated Krycek's rectum.  When he calculated
that half the bag had emptied, he clamped the hose again, waited a few minutes,
then released it.

Up until now, Skinner's plans for the Saturday morning enemas had been more of
the douche variety.  But since he'd been pulling off information off the 'Net,
he'd gotten more interested in the concept of a thorough cleansing.  Oh, he
would still use the former, now and then during the week, to train his pet to
hold in the water, but for Saturdays, he wanted something deeper.

Krycek was definitely feeling uncomfortable.  He tried to shift his body to deal
with the oncoming wave of cramps.  Skinner dropped a hand on his pet's shoulder,
anchoring him firmly in place.

When the bag showed that most of the water had gone out, he clamped the hose
again.  "The nozzle stays in, Pet.  All the way in, as it is now.  I'm going to
refill the bag and then we'll continue."

The cramps hit hard as Skinner refilled the bag.  He watched Krycek try to draw
his knees up, try to find a position that, limited though his movements were,
would ease the cramps.

"This way,"  Skinner turned his pet to one side as per the instructions he'd
been studying.  As the web site had indicated, the water in his pet needed to
move into the transverse colon. Krycek's sigmoid had expanded causing his belly
to swell slightly.  Skinner was pleased to see the distention to the abdomen. 
He passed his hands along his pet's body, massaging the colon area, not to ease
the cramps but to help the water further along.  When he was satisfied that it
had done so, he once more released the clamp and allowed the water to make its
way down the hose.  Krycek's discomfort grew as more and more of the solution
entered his body.  He began moving about, as though trying to dislodge the
nozzle up his ass.

"I understand that some people can get an orgasm from this, Pet. I forbid you
to."  He grabbed the still sensitive balls and their rings in his large hand and
squeezed hard.  Krycek screamed, writhing, trying to do anything to release the
pressure on his balls.  And as he did so, the nozzle slipped out from his anus,
water spraying everywhere.  Not just from the nozzle, but from his ass as well.

Skinner was not happy.  He squeezed harder, until Krycek was screaming loudly,
twisting in the tub, trying to dislodge Skinner's hand.

Skinner never loosened his grip until only a little water trickled out of
Krycek's ass.  Krycek suddenly started beating his head against the tub, as if
trying to knock himself out. Skinner immediately released Krycek's balls,
grabbed his head and held it tightly between his large hands.

"NO!  BAD PET!  NO!  You may not damage yourself.  You may do nothing to
yourself that displeases me."

It took some minutes for Krycek to still, for his screams to fade to whimpers.

Skinner shook his head.  "Pet, why do you insist on asking for punishment?  It
only makes me angry and delays your training."

***

Krycek was in position, ass in the air, hand manacled to the back of the waist
belt, spreader in place, ankles once more fettered together.  He was gagged. 
Skinner had fixed the chains so that he was once more locked into position.

Without preparation, Skinner inserted the nozzle of an enema bag into Krycek's
ass and squeezed.  This time, the solution was composed of milk that had been
heated and to which molasses had been added.  Reaction, according to the
documentation Skinner had downloaded, would be fairly quick.  Even through the
gag, Krycek moaned.

Skinner waited until the bag was empty.  "I'm pulling the nozzle out, Pet. 
Nothing else is to follow."  No sooner had he pulled the nozzle out than he
pushed a butt plug in to work as a stopper.  He placed a clock by Krycek's head.
 "Thirty minutes."

And then he made himself comfortable as he watched Krycek deal with the
gut-wrenching cramps caused by this particular mixture, the stopper and still
maintain his position.  At one point, Krycek twisted his head to find Skinner. 
Though Skinner had no idea what the actual words were, he ignored Krycek's
moans, his begging eyes and merely came to sit by him.  When Krycek started
turning his head away, Skinner held it there.  "I want to see your eyes, Pet. 
Your pain."  And his tone persuaded Krycek to comply.

"And remember to keep that solution where it belongs. In you. No, don't try to
convince me otherwise.  You asked for this.  You were the one who was
disobedient.  I've told you repeatedly that all I want from you is your
obedience and your pain.  If I can't get the first, I will certainly get the
second."

When the alarm on the clock went off, Skinner released his pet from confinement,
dragged him over to the toilet, all the time reminding him that any messes he
made would need to be cleaned up afterwards.

Skinner prepared a soothing enema for his pet, Krycek lay in the tub and
passively accepted it.

"I hope I never have occasion to use that milk and molasses solution again.  But
if I ever do, I will double the time.  Is this understood, Pet?"

Once he was certain that all this solution had been voided by Krycek's body,
Skinner restrained him, on his back, feet flat on the floor.

"I did want to prepare you properly for tomorrow's training, Pet, but you wasted
so much time that I'm afraid that this will be a rushed session."

He began by using the nipple clamps that he was using to stretch the flesh to
longer lengths.  His pet was used to them by now. They weren't anything new.

The human-sized dildo was new.  It went into position with some difficulty as
Krycek's sphincter automatically closed in defense of tender tissue. "Pet?  Is
it more punishment that you're asking for?"

Krycek's panicky, "No!  Master." pleased him.  His pet took a deep breath and
forced himself to accept.

"It stays in.  No matter what.  Understand, Pet?"

"Yes, Master."  Krycek's voice was carefully expressionless.

Even if the dildo was generously greased -- Skinner needed his Pet in good form
for tomorrow's training -- it took some effort to get the plastic cock in as far
as he wanted it to go.

Then, still at Krycek's feet, Skinner settled himself on the floor and reached
for Krycek's cock.  He played with it, comparing its length to his hand,
checking out the width at the base, finally examining the glans under the
retracted foreskin, all the time aware of the flaccid nature of his pet's cock. 
Of the worried eyes focused on him.

"I'm glad that you're not circumcised, Pet."  He rolled the foreskin back and
forth, passed his thumb along the slit, rubbing it, the glans, until he felt
Krycek struggling not to pull his hips back.  Then he held up a clamp, like the
ones on Krycek's nipples. He tugged on the foreskin enough so that he could
clamp the edges of it shut, closing off the glans.

Krycek didn't even try to control his reaction to that.

When Skinner came back to remove the toys and settle his pet for the night,
Krycek's body shook with tremors that Skinner found very appealing.  He would
have to try for that effect again.

***

Skinner examined his pet's anus and decided that, though the external muscle was
slightly red, the interior tissues sensitive due to the enemas of the previous
day, neither was enough reason to defer the next part of his pet's training.  In
fact, they would make the session all the more pleasing for him.  He was,
thought Skinner, growing addicted to his pet's screams.

Krycek was in position, collar chained to the floor on two sides, on top of the
usual chains that held him in place.

Skinner knelt behind him, silent.  There was no way that Krycek could see what
he was going to do with him.  He had reacted to the probing finger with an
obvious attempt not to.  Skinner doubted that he would be so successful during
the oncoming session.

He carefully greased his pet's anus, using the index finger to open the muscle
until he could easily slip in a second finger. His pet was obviously very
uncomfortable, even at this early stage of the proceedings.  Then he removed
both and added more lube to his latex-gloved hand.  Every time he added a finger
to the penetration, Skinner would pull them out, add more lube and start the
procedure over again.  In spite of the slow stretching, he knew from Krycek's
aborted movements, the gasps, the moans that he was moving from uncomfortable to
in pain.

Skinner smiled.  By the time he had worked in all four fingers, scissoring them
open, twisting them back and forth against the anal muscle, his pet was fighting
to control his pain.  Skinner was overjoyed to hear his pet whimper, "Please,
Master," over and over between the gasps, the small choked cries that Krycek
could no longer control.

"Yes, Pet.  This does please me.  It pleases me greatly," Skinner's voice
hardened suddenly.  "Hurts does it?  Good.  It should.  You certainly hurt my
department when you fucked us over with that little game you and Spender played
with us."  This time, he slipped in his thumb.  "This is what it felt like when
OPC investigated why one of my men should suddenly disappear. What it felt like
when it went down on my record that I had allowed a mole of some kind into my
department."

"Please, Master!  Spender..." Krycek's voice grew progressively shriller, "...I
had no choice...He ordered me...Please, I had no choice...He would have punished
me!"

"You had a choice, Pet.  You could have come to me.  But you chose him.  Not a
good decision, Pet."

"I didn't know!  Please, Master, please, you don't understand. Please.  Let me
explain!  Please!  It hurts!"

And then Skinner gripped Krycek's hips with one hand, placed his elbow against
his chest and gradually leaned into the hand that was reluctantly making its way
into Krycek's ass.

Krycek screamed as the widest part of Skinner's hand seemed to take forever to
pass by the aching sphincter.  His body bucked in a futile attempt to repel the
intrusion.

"See, Pet.  If you hadn't insisted on punishment yesterday, you would have been
better prepared to take this.  As for me, well. it's been a while since I've
done something like this.  More than a few years.  I promise to take my time,
just to be sure I remember how to do it properly."

Skinner held his hand still as he waited for the muscle to adjust to the width
of his palm.  His pet, he thought angrily, was going to learn to accept anything
that pleased his Master without protest.

Krycek was breathing roughly through his mouth, an obvious attempt to control
his pain.  Skinner hadn't gagged him for this training:  he was still irritated
at yesterday's behaviour and had no intention of making this fisting any easier
than it had to be.  Yet, it had occurred to him that his pet already had
mechanisms in place for controlling pain.  From the rapidity with which he
stilled his body after some response made Skinner wonder just how much
experience his pet had with accepting a man's fist up his ass.

When Krycek's muscle stopped spasming, Skinner set it off again by twisting his
hand, back and forth, until Krycek no longer tried to choke back his screams. 
Then, and only then, did he exert enough pressure to push through to the wrist.

"Yes, that's good, Pet.  You're good and hot inside.  But it hurts, doesn't it? 
Doesn't it, Pet?" as he made a slow fist.

"Yes!  Master, please!"  Krycek's shrill cries were edged with hysteria...music
to Skinner's ears.

"Please?  Of course it pleases me, Pet.  It is training for you. Maybe next
time, when it pleases me to clean you out properly for this type of training,
you won't need to be punished.  It hurts so much because of the punishment you
forced upon yourself, my Pet.  Your idea, if you remember, not mine."

Skinner was pleased with the way he had chained Krycek down; though he tried to
pull away from his Master's fist, he could barely wriggle.  But he could beg,
voice gasping, rising in pitch.  "Yes, Master.  Please, Master, I'm sorry. 
Please, I'm sorry.  Please."

Skinner rotated the fist, pushing in a little further.  "No, Pet. It's too late
for sorries now.  You'll just have to accept that it will hurt more because of
your actions.  Next time, you'll think more about pleasing me than pleasing
yourself.  Won't you?"

Krycek screamed.

Still, it was hard work for Skinner.  His face grimaced, sweat dripped off his
face, wetting his soaked t-shirt as he moved ever so slightly, so that already
over-sensitized tissue wouldn't tear more than could be prevented.  He didn't
mind a little blood, just didn't want his pet to bleed to death.

Once he was certain that this lesson had been learnt, he slowly began pulling
out his hand.  He took his time, very careful that it would be very painful for
Krycek.

When he finally pulled out his fingers, Skinner felt an incredible thrill
overwhelm him, a lovely tingling sensation that started in the pit of his
stomach and radiated outward.

It took him a moment to realize it was the thrill of ownership.

"Pet," he slapped Krycek's aching ass.  "I'm waiting."

Krycek tried to sob out his thanks.

"I didn't get that, Pet.  Speak clearly."  He circled a warning finger around
the still open muscle, making sure the threat was understood.

Krycek flinched violently, fought to get his aching throat to enunciate
carefully, "Tha...thank...you...Ma...Mas...ter."

Skinner stood up.  "Yes, Pet.  Now to clean you up.  A little reward so you
don't have to worry about the condition of the floor under you."  Skinner
slipped something between Krycek's legs and stuck the velcro tabs to each other.

"You know, Pet, a diaper looks good on you.  I'll have to remember that."


Chapter 4:  In Which the Many Forms of Beauty Are Discussed


Skinner lay on the floor beside his pet, head propped up on an elbow.

Krycek lay on his back, knees bent, feet, for once, separated and restrained to
either side of his ass, causing it to rise off the floor, leaving his anus
easily accessible.

"You're afraid, Pet.  No, don't try and deny it.  I can see it in your eyes. 
That's good.  I want you always to be a bit afraid of what I might do to you. 
Fear gives your eyes a special glow. No, don't turn your head away.  You know
what I expect of you."

"Yes, Master," Krycek whispered.

"So then, tell me, Pet."

"When you are close to me, I must keep my eyes open and on you, Master."

"Excellent.  And why must you do that, Pet?"

"So that my pain may please you, Master."

"Your pain and your fear, Pet."

His pet hurried to correct himself.  "Yes, Master.  Sorry, Master.  So that my
pain and my fear may please you.  Master."

Skinner smiled his approval of his pet's recitation of a lesson learnt the hard
way.  He reached with his free hand to stroke the hair off his pet's face. 
Smiled at the visible restraint his pet showed at having it handled.  Apart from
the time he had been with the FBI, Skinner had never seen Krycek's hair this
long. Probably liked to keep it short, he thought, fingering the ends. He had
been thinking of cutting it, but lately he was considering how handy it was for
gripping.

But not now.

He let his fingers gently play on his pet's face, enjoying the increased
wariness that had joined the fear his pet could not hide.  Both gave him
pleasure.  And there would be more to his pleasure as the session progressed. 
It was going to be a hard evening for his pet.

"You know, Pet, I really like the way the clamps have lengthened your nipples. 
They were pretty little nubs when we started but now...well, they stand like
proud little peaks.  Yes, much better.  And more sensitive, aren't they, Pet?" 
He wet the index finger of his free hand in his mouth and playfully stroked the
tips of the nipples that had more than doubled in length since he had started
training them.

Krycek's breath made a small sound of surprise at the touch.

Skinner smiled at him.  "Yes, they're far more sensitive."  He pinched the tips
with his fingernails.  Krycek's breath whistled as he tried to control the
natural reaction of pulling away from the source of his pain.  "Aren't they?" he
asked again.

"Yes, Master," he spoke almost in a whisper.  "They hurt easily."

Skinner nodded his approval.

He amused himself with his pet's nipples, pinching here and there on the areola,
until the brown had a red tinge to it.  His pet's mouth was tightly closed
against any sound.  That would change soon, thought Skinner, with a smile.

He reached behind him and placed a small container on his pet's sternum then
snapped a latex glove on his free hand.  Rubbing a finger in the container, he
held it up so his pet could see, then passed it under his nose.  It was a
colourless gel that he knew Krycek had identified by sight and smell as regular
lube.

He spent a few minutes stroking the gel over nipples and areolae, soothing the
pain he had caused to flare in his pet's chest. From his pet's expression it was
obvious that he didn't expect this "soothing" to continue.  Skinner's smile
didn't ease the trepidation in his pet's eyes.

Once more he reached behind him and brought up an average-sized butt plug.  He
kept the plug within easy range of his pet's eyes, generously covered it with
the lube, slid down so that he could work it into Krycek's ass without ever
taking his eyes off his pet.

Taking his place again next to Krycek, he reached down between Krycek's legs,
played with the plug, rotating it, pushing it in a little harder.  Now and then
his fingers flicked his pet's balls, making Krycek wince, gasp as he reawakened
the throbbing pain that was never far away.

All the time, Krycek's eyes stayed on his Master's face, not once losing contact
with his Master's eyes.

"Excellent, Pet.  See this training isn't so difficult, is it?"

"No, Master," whispered Krycek.

Skinner's hand found Krycek's penis, played with it as he did before clamping
it.  This time, with his gloved fingers lubed, there was probably far less pain
than normal.  Still, Krycek did wince when Skinner showed him the training clamp
and, sitting up, used it to pinch shut Krycek's foreskin.

As Krycek waited, Skinner played gently for once with his pet's body.  Not doing
anything to cause serious pain, but stroking along the fading tan lines on his
stomach, rubbing his belly, caressing the lines of his ribs.

Damn, but he was beautiful, thought Skinner.  The green eyes, open wide and
showing all the emotion his pet's face rarely did. The strong neck.  The wide
shoulders.  The lengthened nubs, red and slightly swollen from their training. 
The hairless chest, nicely shaped pecs rising and falling with his pet's
controlled anxious breathing.  The flat stomach with the dimple navel.  The
bound scrotum, the cock, flaccid though it was, were perfect for the body that
bore them.

It crossed Skinner's mind that all this beauty should arouse more in him than
aesthetic appreciation.  That here he had a beautiful body at his command, so
why wasn't he getting some sexual pleasure from it?

He found his pet's eyes watching him, trying to gauge where he was going with
his training today.  No, he thought, right now, his pet's fear was far more
enjoyable than any satisfaction he could get from his body.  Maybe later.  When
his pet had been properly trained.

His hand skimmed his pet's rib cage, appreciating the small flutters his touch
elicited:  his pet was so responsive.

Over the last week, he had started feeding Krycek more than the Boost when he
realized that his pet was losing weight.  Now, as well as the liquid supplement,
he kept a bowl filled with chopped up power bars.  He had been tempted to feed
his pet dog food, but decided that the nutrient value was not what his pet
needed.

Krycek was hungry enough to eat anything.  Both bowls were emptied twice a day.

When the wariness seemed to fade somewhat from Krycek's eyes, Skinner once more
reached behind him, placed another container on his chest.  This time he didn't
need to pass the gel under Krycek's nose:  his nostrils flared at the slight
odour.  The wariness and fear were back in his eyes.

"Same lube, Pet, but with a touch -- just a touch -- of Tiger Balm to make it
interesting."

He dabbed some on both nipples, watched as Krycek nearly closed his eyes.  He
did hiss at the heat that flared up on tissues that were already sore to touch,
but kept his eyes on his Master.

Skinner added some more of the treated lube to the nipples and rubbed it gently
in.  "Is this too hot for you, Pet?"

Krycek bit his bottom lip, swallowed hard, then gave his head a small shake. 
"No, Master."

Skinner gave him a brilliant smile.  Then he held up another plug that was
larger than the first.  This one too he coated generously with the doctored gel.
 As he moved to sit by Krycek's ass, his pet visibly braced himself.  "Master?"
he whimpered.

"No, Pet.  Now, relax.  Loosen your ass or that plug will hurt coming out.  It
might even tear you.  You wouldn't want this gel to get into an open wound, now
would you?"

It took some concentration on Krycek's part to do as his Master had ordered. 
Skinner allowed him the time, knowing that the longer it took to insert the
plug, the more pain Krycek anticipated.  He slipped the first plug out and the
second one in as Krycek took a breath.  His lips pulled back from his teeth in a
grimace of pain.  Skinner didn't give him any time to adjust: he played the plug
in and out until Krycek's hips rose, trying to get away from the burning
sensation in his ass.

While still at Krycek's ass, Skinner unclamped the foreskin and passed his still
lubricated finger around the glans.  Krycek gasped his shock at the burning heat
that flared up on sensitive tissue.  Skinner dabbed a touch on the piss slit --
the gasp became a moan -- and reclamped the foreskin shut.

Then he lay next to his pet and watched as Krycek coped with the burning
sensations on his chest, in his ass, on his penis.  His skin developed a fine
sheen, his jaw was clenched against the sounds that he tried to control, his
hips rose and descended as they tried to adjust to the sensation of burning in
his anus.

Finally, after several minutes, Krycek won out over his body's reaction.

And, all the while, he had kept his eyes on his Master.

Skinner smoothed back the now dampened hair.

"Beautiful, Pet.  You really have no idea how beautiful you are when you fight
to win over the pain.  But, one day, soon I hope, your first reaction will be to
accept, not to fight it.  You will let me see openly the pain that you feel, let
me hear your cries.

"Mind you, I hope you never lose the fear you try so hard to hide.  Whoever had
you before me trained you well not to wear your fear on your face."  In spite of
his pain, Krycek looked startled.  Ah, thought Skinner, so someone had had a run
at taming the rat.  "But, fortunately, your eyes never learnt that lesson.  And
you will unlearn those other lessons that you were taught.  You will show me all
your fear, all your pain, never hide any of that from me."

He caressed the jaw clenched so tightly.  "I want to hear your reaction as well
as see it, Pet.  Remember that from now on.

Then he reached for yet another small container.  The proportion of Tiger Balm
to gel this time was much higher.  "Did I mention it was extra-strength, Pet? 
You'll feel it more this time."

Skinner was well pleased with his pet's vocal reaction to this ointment.  "NO! 
No!  Please!  Master, I beg you."

"No?"  Skinner sounded surprised.  "You're saying no to your Master?  Pet.  Do
you still not understand?  You have absolutely no say in what I do to you. 
You're only here to accept.  And to hope that in the acceptance, you manage to
please me.  I don't ever want to hear you tell me no again."  He hardened his
tone. "Is that understood, Pet?"

He watched his pet's face as the realization of his situation finally
penetrated.  "I'm waiting, Pet.  Is that understood?"

"Please, Master.  This isn't you, not Skinner.  Skinner sucker punched me.  He
cuffed me to his balcony.  But he's not...he wouldn't...he couldn't tor..."

Skinner raised his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.  "I wouldn't what?  Torture
you?  But I'm not, Pet.  This isn't torture.  This is training.  Maybe if I
wanted information out of you, I might be tempted to torture you.  If there was
something that you had and wouldn't give to me.  A thing that once you handed
over, it wouldn't matter if you lived or died.

"But, you see, Pet, I have no need of information and I have no intention of
killing you.  I just want to train you.  Train you to accept me as your Master. 
A Master who can do what he wants with you.  A Master you will be eager to
please.  And right now, it pleases me to use this on you."

The colour of Krycek's nipples blazed red as the burn increased their now
extreme sensitivity.  Krycek screamed when, as a form of test, Skinner pinched
them to see Krycek's face contort.

The butt plug was larger, longer; the burn, far more intense when Skinner played
with it before moving on to the penis that jerked when he took it in his hand. 
This time, Skinner passed a cotton swab in the gel, inserted it into the piss
slit.  And twisted it.

Krycek's howl was beautiful.

"I love to hear you scream, Pet."  Skinner rubbed Krycek's shoulder, stomach in
calming circles.  "It means that your training is taking.  You seem to remember
so much better when what I do to you makes you scream."

He used a dampened face cloth to wipe the mixture of sweat and tears off his
pet's face.

This time he barely allowed his pet time to adjust.  When Krycek saw the next
container, he shook his head back and forth. "Please, Master," he begged
brokenly.  "Please!  I'm sorry.  I'm really sorry!  Please!  It hurts so much. 
Please!"

"But it's supposed to hurt, Pet.  How else are you going to pay for what you did
to us?  To me.  To Scully.  To Mulder."

"Please, I'm sorry," his pet panted.  "They gave me orders.  I had to obey them.
 They owned me.  If I hadn't obeyed..."

"*They* don't own you any more, Pet," snapped Skinner, suddenly peeved with his
pet's attempt to avoid his training.  "*I* do! And you will accept my training,
without question."

He grabbed his pet by the hair and stuck his own face close to the other's. 
"How else," he snarled, "are you going to learn and accept that your body
belongs to me?  Inside and outside.  That I can do with it as I please.  Because
it pleases me.  Because it is just as you deserve.  Think of all the pain you've
caused people over the years, Pet.  Accept your training as something you justly
deserve."

Skinner released his pet and took a deep breath to calm himself down.  When he
spoke, he did so in a reasonable tone.  "Besides, I think I've already told you
that pain makes you more beautiful to me.  I love what it does to you.  This
time," Skinner held up the container, "it will really hurt.  I want you to show
me how much it hurts."

The preparation was almost all Tiger Balm.  And Skinner was more than generous
with his anointments.  Krycek's screams seemed to tear out of his throat.  His
back arched as Skinner carefully rubbed the ointment on his nipples.  Instead of
a butt plug, this time Skinner coated half of a large, two-headed dildo,
inserted that end in and used the other to play it in and out of Krycek's ass. 
He didn't use any of this gel on his penis, deciding that it might cause some
damage to his pet's glans and he didn't want that to happen.

He gave him time to adjust to this new level of hurt, watching all the while
with a hint of a smile as his pet fought to keep his eyes on his Master.  "Good,
Pet.  You remembered to keep your eyes on me.

"Remember also that this pain is something you deserve."  Skinner drew one
eyebrow then the other with a fingertip.  "Tell me why you deserve this pain,
Pet.  Why it is just and right that you should feel pain."

For a moment there, Skinner thought his pet was going to challenge him.  He
smiled at the conflict he could see on his pet's face:  whether to concede and
admit that he deserved this treatment, or to fight, knowing that either way
Skinner would not stop the pain.

Skinner felt the lovely warmth of triumph when Krycek whispered, between gasps,
"I deserve it...because...of what...I did...to you."

"Just to me?"  Skinner skimmed a finger over nipples that he knew could barely
take it.

"No," cried his pet.  "To Scully.  To Mulder.  Please, Master..."

"It pleases me greatly to hear you finally admit that you wronged us, Pet.  That
you need to pay for all the pain you caused.  No matter what your masters of the
time ordered you to do, you need to remember that you did have choices."

Whenever Krycek's cries lessened, his hips settled into a regular rhythm of
avoidance, Skinner added more of the Balm solution to nipples and dildo so that
the burn flared up until he realized that Krycek was having trouble catching his
breath between screams.

Then, much as he enjoyed hearing the strangled cries, the moans, the whimpering
of his pet as he accepted the pain that was due him, Skinner stopped.  He'd
attained his goal for the night: he'd gotten his pet to acknowledge that this
training was appropriate.

As Krycek moaned incoherently, trying to ride out the pain, Skinner gathered all
the containers and used toys, even removing the clamp from Krycek's penis.

He cleaned everything properly in the bathroom, watching with enjoyment as
Krycek writhed on the floor.  He recapped each container and put them away in
the medicine cabinet for use on another day.

When the noise and movements lessened, Skinner leashed his pet and unchained
him.  Krycek was beyond responding to his Master's command to "Heel!"  Finally,
Skinner conceded that his pet was really not able to co-operate.  He took hold
of the waist belt and dragged him into the bathroom as he had done in the early
days.  Krycek was barely aware as Skinner positioned him in the tub.

Skinner carefully wiped the excess gel from Krycek's nipples, causing him to
scream again.  But then he placed two small plastic bags filled with an icy
slush on the abused flesh and, with the cold, came an easing of the burning.

He took his pet's penis in hand and removed as much of the gel that remained
with a cotton swab.  Holding the foreskin back, he dribbled water that he had
kept in the freezer over the glans, the piss slit.  He opened another of the
slush bags and inserted the over-sensitized member into it.  He wrapped a rubber
band loosely around the bag to hold it in place.

Lastly, into Krycek's ass, he inserted a plastic water-filled butt plug that had
also spent some time in the freezer.  He had lubed it with a gel that was
supposed to ease the fire in his pet's ass.  It was, Skinner thought, amazing
how the store with the purple bags had toys for every occasion and situation.

Kneeling by the tub, he gently wiped the sweat off Krycek's body. "You make me
so proud, Pet, when you take all that I give you. It shows me how worthy you are
of your training.  Look at me. Yes, Pet.  You're doing well.  So well.  Tonight,
you were almost where I want you to be.  It's coming.  Soon you will be what I
want you to be.  The perfect Pet."  He waited, frowning when he had to cue his
pet, "What do you have to say to me, Pet?"

"Thank...you...Master."  Krycek's throat rasped.

"That's a good pet."  Skinner stroked Krycek's cheek.  "I'll be back in a few
minutes, Pet, to get you."

When he returned, Krycek's eyes were shut.  There were shadows around them and
his body trembled, either from reaction or the cold treatment.  Skinner quickly
removed all the bags, the plug and inspected his pet's body.

The nipples were a blazing red and so sensitive, even cold, that Skinner's
breath passing over them caused Krycek to whimper.  The glans head was almost
purple and the slit was a fine, tight line. Krycek screamed when Skinner
inserted a finger in his ass to see just how swollen he was.  He couldn't resist
moving it about more than need be just to hear his pet's cries.

Skinner reluctantly admitted, but only to himself, that he may have allowed this
training to go on too long.  It was obvious that his pet would not be up to
another such training session for a day or so.  He had to remember, no matter
how much pleasure he got out of these sessions, he did have to consider his
pet's health.

Well, he was taking a step toward that tonight, he assured himself.  And it
added another dimension to his plans for his pet.

He used some medicated ointment to soothe the burning pain, even if he had to
cause some more when he greased a gloved finger and inserted it into his pet's
ass.

This time, when Skinner tugged on the lead, his pet managed to heel in position
back into the room.  Skinner lead him to a far corner and stopped, waiting for
his pet to finally raise his vision from the floor.

They were at a narrow futon that was covered with a thick, over- big polar
fleece envelope.

Still dazed with pain, not understanding, Krycek turned confused eyes up to his
Master.

As Skinner crouched by his pet's side, he wrapped the lead around his hand so
that his pet could not turn his head away.  With the other hand, he played with
his pet's hair.  "You pleased me greatly tonight, Pet.  You've come a long way. 
I think you finally understand that you have no choice but to accept your
training.  That, in fact, you are in great need of this training. And tonight,
you finally stopped hiding your pain from me.  So many steps taken in your new
life as a pet deserve a reward, don't you think?"

His pet responded with a whispered, "Thank you, Master," though he couldn't hide
his disbelief that he was going to be allowed to rest on something other than
the floor.

"One thing.  Before I allow you to get on it, I just want to remind you that
rewards can be taken away.  Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Master."

"Would you prefer to sleep on your stomach or your back, Pet?"

Krycek shook his head as though he didn't understand the request. Even
exhausted, he seemed wary of giving an answer.

"This is your mat, Pet.  It is your safe place.  Here, there is neither training
nor punishment.  Only reward.  I will continue to chain you, but not as tightly
as when you are on the floor. The floor will be only for training or -- and this
will be up to you -- punishment.  When either one is done, and *if* you have
pleased me, I may bring you here to your mat.

"You know that when I tell you something I hold by it.  When I tell you you're
training, I train you.  When I tell you you must be punished, I punish you.  Is
this not so, Pet?"

Krycek licked his bitten lips before listlessly answering, "Yes, Master."

"Now I am telling you that this is your place.  Your mat.  Your place of reward.
 My word is no less reliable."

Eyes intent on his Master's face, Krycek slowly nodded.  "Yes, Master.  Thank
you, Master.  On my back, if it pleases you, Master."

Skinner smoothed back his pet's hair.  "Yes, Pet.  This pleases me.  It will
always please me to reward you."

Krycek moved onto the mat, lay on his back.  Skinner locked a chain to his
collar as he always did before removing the lead. This time, however, instead of
barely allowing him to move his head, the chain was long enough for him to raise
his head a good six inches off the futon.  The same with the chain that went
from the ankle restraints to the floor.  The knee spreader made it difficult to
turn his body around, had his pet even wanted to, but, for the first time since
his capture, Krycek slept on a warm covering on a material softer than a cold
hard floor.

***

A quick inspection of his pet's body and Skinner knew that it would need more
than a night to recover.

Still, that was no reason to stop his pet's training, merely a chance to move on
to another facet.

He left his pet in position as he dressed for work.  Then he entered, crouched
by his pet's side and held his chin so that his eyes were on him.

"Something new today, Pet."  And he warmed at the instant fear that filled his
pet's beautiful eyes.

With gentle hands, he raised the fire that still lurked in his pet's nipples,
his penis, even his ass.  "You feel all this, don't you, Pet?"

"Yes, Master," gasped Krycek.

"You have learnt to accept the pain, Pet.  Now you must learn to take it into
yourself.  To do more than merely accept, but to submit to it.  To make it one
with you."

The nipple clamps he put on were really quite gentle, but they would keep the
level of fire up throughout the day.  As would the clamp on his foreskin and the
thin, narrow plug that Skinner generously lubed before gently easing into a
sheath that was tender to any touch.

"When I train you, Pet, your pain is for my pleasure.  Today, I am going to gag
you, blindfold you, plug your ears and then I will hood you."  His pet flinched
violently at that.  Yes, the hood had to have certain associations for his pet
that he might one day have to investigate.  "You will be in position and you
will remain that way until I come and remove these things.

"I want you to use these times to take the pain into yourself. When you are in
submission, I will never touch you, Pet, until I want the session to end.  Do
you understand?"

Sinner watched as Krycek panted, trying to control his fear. "Yes, Master," he
whispered.

"Good."  Skinner placed the waxed ear plugs into his pet's ears, slipped a
leather bit gag into his mouth, attaching it firmly but not painfully.  He
placed a padded blindfold over his eyes and tied it snugly.  Before putting on
the hood, he caressed his pet's head, telling him how much his behaviour pleased
him.  He even kept his hands on his pet's head until his breathing was less
panicky.

Then he roughly passed his hands over his pet's body, bringing up the level of
pain.

Skinner stood, looked down at the picture his trembling pet made and nodded. 
The blackness of the hood only served to emphasize the pale beauty of his pet's
nudity.  Skinner was suddenly aware of the hardening at his groin.  Well, that
was a new development. One to think about.  He passed his hand over the slight
bulge in his trousers.  No, not yet.

As he locked the door behind him, Skinner thought that beautiful as his pet was
in this position, he had plans to make him even more beautiful.

When he came home that night, his pet's hips were not as high as Skinner would
have liked them to be, but the expression in his eyes was more than he had
expected.  Krycek's eyes were heavy, unfocused.  It took him some time to
realize that his Master was with him and had removed the hood and the blindfold.

Skinner sat next to his pet and stroked his head, caressed his face until the
green eyes saw what they were looking at.  He smiled his approval then.  While
Krycek finished coming back from whatever place deep within himself he had
found, Skinner removed the ear plugs, the gag and the toys.

He had his pet turn over onto his back.  Slowly, he rubbed circles around his
pet's nipples -- carefully not touching them, over his chest, abdomen, hips.

"Master," said Krycek.  Not in pain.  Not in fear.  Not in acceptance.  Almost,
thought Skinner, with a hint of pleasure at seeing him.

He stroked the long hair off his pet's face and wondered if Krycek were aware of
the gift pet had just given master.

***

Skinner sat on the floor watching his pet eat his supper. Besides the Boost, the
chopped up power bars, he had decided, in order to maintain his pet's health, to
add a bowl of food now and then.  Tonight, there was some chicken stew that his
pet was eating rapidly, going so far as to lick the bowl so clean that it could
have passed his mother's inspection.

He had read on the Internet that keeping a "pet" on the edge of hunger would
only improve his willingness to accept training. Besides, he told himself, it
was not as though his pet now needed the caloric intake he had needed when he
had been working for the Consortium.  He wasn't running anywhere, either to do
what he had been ordered to do, or to escape the consequences of obeying those
orders.  And an edge of hunger would make his pet all that much more
appreciative of these little treats.

After he finished eating, Skinner inspected his pet thoroughly for the next
evening's training.  He had allowed his pet to have an easy time of it this last
week, wanting him to be in the best state possible.

That didn't mean that his training had been stopped.  Every morning, after
seeing to it that his pet was positioned near his water and the bowl of Boost,
Skinner liked to insert a butt plug into his pet's ass, using progressively
larger ones.  He'd taken to wrapping one of those weight bags around the rings
stretching his pet's balls, to help them do their work.  Now and then, he liked
to leave his pet's ass tingling from a few good solid strokes of the strap. 
Little things to remind him that he should spend the day preparing himself for
the evening's attentions.

Tonight, though Krycek flinched when he pulled on his nipples, the training
clamps had worked only to lengthen the flesh, not abuse it.  His glans was a
healthy red and the piss slit was no longer a thin line, but the opening that it
should be.  As for his ass, Skinner was pleased that the tenderness was gone. 
The plugs he had been using had been lubricated with a medicated gel as well as
the usual lube.

As he had most nights since its introduction, he led his pet to the mat, settled
him for the night.  He spent some time caressing his pet's body, stroking him. 
Krycek lay still for what was becoming a ritual whenever he was taken to his
mat.  Not training, merely a soothing.  Skinner thought that his pet was growing
fond of this ritual.

So was he.

The next evening, Skinner fed his pet a light meal, then left him in position
while he went and got a long, narrow, coffee table which he had modified for his
pet's training.  There were restraints all around the border so that no matter
how Skinner placed him, his pet could be held immobile.

Skinner also brought in a short stool and what looked to be a TV tray on wheels.
 To this he added a couple of floor lamps with high wattage bulbs.

He released his now uneasy pet and led him to the table.  "Up, Pet."

For a moment, he thought maybe his pet was going to disobey, especially when he
saw him sneak a look at the door.  But that's all it was:  a look.  With
resignation, Krycek lifted his chest, lay it down and tried to get his knees up.
 Skinner graciously lent him a hand.

"On your back, Pet."

Skinner already had prepared a couple of chains which he attached to his pet's
collar before he unfettered his ankles and attached each to one of the
restraints on either side of the table's end. He aligned his pet's body further
down so that his ass was closer to the edge.  Then he substituted two very short
leather leads for the chains at his pet's collar.  A wide strap was fitted over
his pet's hips, snugly attached to the sides, and another held his shoulders
flat on the table.  Lastly, Skinner released his pet's hand and restrained it
over his head.  Then he smiled at the now trembling pet who lay exposed to his
wishes.

Skinner dragged the stool over by Krycek's head and gently worked his hand from
the upper strap to the lower in that soothing ritual he had trained his pet to
accept.

"You know that I think you're beautiful.  Don't you, Pet?"

Krycek licked his lips.  "Yes, Master."

"And you are.  Very beautiful.  Not just your eyes, your body, but your
acceptance that I am your Master."

Krycek said, "Yes, Master," but nervously.

"But beautiful as you are, I think I would like to see you more beautiful.  I am
going to make you more beautiful, my pet.  I am going to decorate you as you
deserve."

Krycek swallowed dryly.  "Yes, Master.  Thank you, Master."

"You're welcome, Pet.  Now relax, you won't find this hard.  I just don't want
you to move, that's all.  That's why you're restrained this way."

He reached over to the TV tray.  "Rings, Pets.  Gold as befits your beauty. 
You'll look regal in gold."

He stood and turned on the lamps so that they lit up Krycek's body.  "When I
tell you to, I want you to take a breath and hold it.  I understand the pain is
sharp but quick.  You'll probably find it pretty much like a sting.  I doubt
that you'll even notice, not any more.  I'll start with this nipple.  The first
one goes at the base.  Yes, Pet, the first.  You'll wear two of these on each
nipple.  That's why I've lengthened them, so that you can carry two."

The instructions off the Internet had been quite right to suggest practising on
orange peel.  The texture was the same.  The amount of pressure needed to make
the holes was about what he had using on the peel.

Still, his pet's nipples had been so highly sensitized that Skinner was glad
that he had strapped him down so securely to the table.  Krycek gasped, his body
trying to jerk away, at the making of the first hole, more so with the second.

In just a few minutes, the left nipple was adorned at its base with a gold ring
about an inch in diameter while a smaller one hung mid-way.  Skinner placed a
cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide over the wounded nipple to prevent
infection.  Krycek hissed his inhalation.

Skinner ignored his pet's moaning reactions to the piercings of his other
nipple.

"There.  That portion of it is done.  Not difficult at all, now was it, Pet? 
But aren't you going to thank me?"  Skinner allowed a hint of disapproval to
colour his voice.

"Yes, Master.  Sorry, Master.  Thank you, Master."  And then his pet added,
without the need for Skinner to remind him, "For the decorations, Master."

Skinner smiled his approval.  "Now for the one in your navel." He held it up for
Krycek to see.  It was larger than the base ring.  "Gold, too."

Skinner felt his pet's body brace itself.  He carefully pinched some skin with
the upper part of the indentation and cleanly pierced the skin.

His pet's voice rose.

"These rings are all self locking.  Very solidly built for all their beauty. 
You'll be careful with them, won't you?  Wouldn't do for them to be torn off
your body."

"No, Master," Krycek's face was tear-streaked.  In spite of the bindings, his
body quivered.  "I'll be careful, Master," he panted.  "Thank you, Master."

Skinner nodded then moved the stool to the foot of the table and Krycek's
exposed genitals.

"It's time to add another ring to your balls, Pet."

"N..."

"What?"  Skinner looked down at his pet, his disapproval evident on his face. 
"Were you about to tell me no, Pet?"

"Please, Master," his pet began weeping in earnest, his body trembling in spite
of its confinement. "Please, oh, please."

Skinner's first reaction was to snap at his pet.  How dare he resist his
Master's wishes!  But he caught himself.  His pet was truly frightened.  What
the Master saw as embellishments, the pet took as punishment.

Skinner went to crouch by his pet's head.  He passed a gentle hand, a soothing
hand over his pet's face, murmuring to him until he saw his pet was more in
control of his fear.

"No, Pet, no.  This is not punishment, my Pet.  These are to make you even more
beautiful.  Yes, there is pain in the process, but afterwards, you will be all
the more beautiful in my eyes.  You will please so much more.  Surely that's
worth some pain?"

"Master..." his pet whimpered.

"Pet, it's obvious that you're no stranger to pain.  This pain is tolerable. 
And it has a purpose.  To decorate you so that the sight of you will be even
more pleasing to me than it already is."

He rubbed his pet's body in soothing circles between his nipples and his navel. 
He examined his pet's body and smiling, eyes appreciative, he looked back into
his pet's eyes.  "Already, you are so much more beautiful, Pet.  I just want to
add to your beauty.  All it will take is a few minutes more.  It may hurt for a
few hours after I'm done, but you've shown me that you can handle pain.  That
you can, in fact, accept much more."

Skinner wiped the tears off his pet's cheeks with his thumb. "You see, nothing
to be afraid of.  Now, then, the sooner I finish, the sooner you will be
beautiful, the sooner you will please me."  He gave his pet a last caress and
moved back down to the end of the table.

He held up the ring again for his pet's viewing.  "This one is slightly
different. To begin with, it's wider, about the width of two of these rings. 
And it's much heavier.  It's decorated with a series of small loops to hang
weights from.  Take a deeper breath, Pet."

His pet's moans grew as with one hand Skinner pulled on his scrotum and, with
the other, moved the rings around so that he could add the new one.  "Yes,
there.  Right in the middle of the others.  Perfect.  Ah, a little tender, is
that?  Not to worry: you'll soon get used to the additional weight."

It took his pet a little longer to thank him.  Skinner knew that his pet's balls
were quite sensitive to being handled at the best of times.  And the new ring
had required a fair amount of manipulation to be locked in place.  His pet
deserved some reassurance.  "You're doing well, Pet.  This pleases me so much."

He waited until his pet had settled before continuing.  "And now for your cock."

Krycek's mouth opened and Skinner wondered if his pet were going to make him
regret all the time he had spent reassuring him.  But then, to his pleasure, his
pet merely asked, "Please, Master. One minute?"

Skinner reached over to rub his pet's body in the way that seemed to calm him. 
He spoke softly to his pet, explaining his decision, hoping it would help his
pet accept.  "You know, Pet, I thought about this hard and long.  At first, I
thought that a ring, a small one through the glans and piss slit would not only
add to the beauty of your cock, but it could be functional as well.  Then I
decided that it might interfere with some of the training I have yet to do with
you.  I even considered a stud, right through the glans, but I don't think I
would feel quite ready yet to put one of those on you.

"So, I've decided on something simpler.  An oval rather than a ring, and through
the base of your foreskin.  With a link, I can hold your cock to your navel
which will leave your balls open to my touch.  I must admit, Pet, I am growing
quite fond of touching you.  And it's only a little pain more."

"Now take a deep breath and it will be over before you know it."

The breath only added volume to his pet's scream as the needle pierced the
tender foreskin.  Skinner moved quickly to insert the oval, aware that his pet
was reaching his limits.

Skinner looked down on his pet and evaluated his adornment.  The small nipple
ring hung down only as far as the base where the larger ring lay on the areola. 
Gold within gold.  Even if he allowed his pet's nipples to return to nubs, the
double rings would still enhance their beauty.  And he could further decorate
them on whim.

The navel ring was definitely a fancy.  Still, it could withstand a fair amount
of pull and an unaroused cock attached to it would pull delightfully.

He allowed his pet some time to become accustomed to his new decorations, all
the while stroking him, soothing him.  "So beautiful, my Pet.  You'll see.  Well
worth this pain.  You've pleased me so much tonight."

He lead his pet through the night's ritual, letting him set the pace for the
trip to the toilet.  There, he used a warm wet face cloth to wipe the tear
stains off his pet's face, the sweat and the small drops of blood from his pet's
body.

With more kindness than he had yet shown his pet, Skinner led him to his mat and
settled him for the night, again taking the time to soothe him, to tell him
again how beautiful he was to his Master.

But, as he left the room, it crossed his mind that, beautiful as his pet's new
adornments were, he really did want to put his mark on him as well. 


Chapter 5: In Which Matters Take a Dangerous Path


Skinner opened the door to his pet's room and watched as frantic eyes looked up
to greet him.  The meeting had gone on long after the time allotted and Skinner
was hours late getting back to his pet.

He'd gotten up early to position him for the day's training.  He knew his pet
would still be sore from the piercings, but that was no reason to stop training.
 After all, his ass and his mouth had not been pierced.

He intended to train his pet to take something down his throat without gagging. 
Something fairly large.  So his mouth would need to be trained to open to its
fullest.  He had found the loveliest gadget for that purpose on the Internet:  a
rubber- coated brace that fit over the teeth and that, with just the turn of a
screw, could be extended to keep a mouth open as much as one determined.

Skinner had set it to as near full as he thought his pet could tolerate on the
first day.

Then he had inserted one of the larger double-headed dildos, very well lubed,
into his pet's ass, added a couple of light weights to the head that hung over
his fettered ankles and instructed him to hold it in until he came home.  The
weights were not particularly heavy but, throughout the day, they would feel
more so as his pet worked to keep the other lavishly-lubed half of the dildo
from slipping out of his body.

Skinner had warned his pet of the consequences should he come home and find the
dildo not where he had put it.

But he should have been home hours ago and his pet had been in this position far
longer than he had planned.  As Skinner went about turning on the lights as he
usually did, he noticed that the dildo was on the floor, not in his pet's ass.

So, he thought, that explained his pet's frantic expression, not the fact that
he was so late in getting back from Headquarters.

And he had reason to be frantic.

Skinner said nothing, merely picked up the dildo and placed it in the bathroom
sink to clean.  He carefully removed the brace from his pet's mouth, noticing
that, at first, his pet couldn't close his mouth.

Still, he said nothing.  He went and prepared his pet's food as he normally did
every evening.  But instead of bringing his pet to the food, he left him in
position and went to make himself something to eat, then took the time to
shower.

When he returned to the room, Krycek had finally been able to close his mouth,
though he didn't look up at his Master.  Skinner came to crouch by his
disobedient pet.  With no gentleness, he gripped his pet's hair and forced him
to face the anger on his Master's face.

"You were told to keep that dildo in you until I came home, Pet," Skinner
snapped.

Krycek tried to say something but, with his other hand, Skinner painfully
gripped his chin with his fingers, pressed his thumb hard on the stressed jaw
joint.  His pet's eyes filled with tears at the pain that flared up in that side
of his face.

"To begin with, it's too late to punish you tonight.  I'll do so tomorrow night.
 That will give you time to think about the possibilities.  Of what I might do
to get you to understand that when I tell you to do something, you have no
option but to do it."

Krycek whimpered in reaction to the increased pressure of Skinner's grip.

Skinner's voice grew colder and colder as he got angrier.  "Hell, Pet!  I may
not be able to exert control over the events developing at Headquarters, but I
damn well expect to be in control of you!

"Oh, that's right.  You don't know what's happening, do you? You remember all
that information that you dumped on us, information that we used to round up
your former masters?  Well, you would be surprised as to whom else is implicated
in all that.

"No, come to think of it, you wouldn't be, would you?  You knew that the
information would lead to many more arrests.  In more departments than we would
have thought possible.

"But did you know that the people in power don't want to believe us?  Even when
we produce the proof of this so-called shadow government?  Seems they were
stupid enough to think they were the ones actually running things, not a bunch
of old men no one really knew about.  Would you like to hazard a guess as to
their response, having to face cold, hard facts?

"They think we're making all this up.  That I and my team bear grudges and are
trying to destroy 'good'," his voice dripped with scorn, "people.  Important
people.  People who are vital to this nation.  Far more vital than we are, my
team and I.

"Of course, the fact that we won't go away, that every day we discover more
incriminating evidence doesn't exactly make us very popular.  In fact, we seem
to be facing that old backlash:  if you can't deny the message, then at least
kill the messenger.

"There appears to be a consensus in some circles that we should be disciplined. 
Can you believe that, Pet?  For doing our jobs. Oh, and that maybe our loyalty
needs investigating."

Skinner released his hold on his pet's face.  He stood up.  His pet's eyes
dropped to his feet.

"While you think about all that, think about the food that's in plain sight,
because that's as close to it as you're getting tonight.  As for the toilet,
since I don't intend having to put up with any messes..."  Skinner went into the
bathroom, came out with a diaper that he fitted on his pet.

Then he turned out the light and went out.

***

When he entered the room the next evening, his pet looked at him with barely
controlled terror.  He wished he knew just how his pet thought he was going to
be punished to elicit such fear.

Maybe another time.

He set down his briefcase and the purple bags, leashed his pet and took him to
the bathroom.  There in the tub, he removed the soiled diaper, roughly cleaned
him off.  Still, he said nothing at all, merely took him to the bowl with the
Boost.  His pet barely lapped any up.

"Is that all you want, Pet?"

Krycek closed his eyes, visibly bracing himself.  "Yes, Master." His voice was
so faint that Skinner barely heard him.

"Yesterday, what were you told to do, Pet?"

"To keep the dildo in me, Master, until you removed it."

"And did you?"

For a moment, Skinner thought his pet was going to offer excuses. He looked up,
mouth partially open until he must have realized from Skinner's expression that,
for all the calm in his voice, he was very displeased with his pet.  Krycek's
mouth closed and he shook his head.

"And so rather than obey me, you're making me punish you, Pet."

Krycek waited in position, his shoulders and face on the floor, body trembling
slightly as though his nerves were twitching under his skin.

The sight, thought Skinner, helped make up for the days he was having at work.

"On your back, Pet."

Skinner took his time chaining his pet's collar to the floor, the ankle fetters
so that his feet were restrained to either side of his ass, causing his hips to
rise.  His hand was attached to his collar.  Skinner snapped a cock ring tightly
onto his pet's flaccid cock, slipped a ball bit into his mouth then went and got
one of the purple bags.

His pet never once resisted any of his preparations.  Skinner assumed that he
knew tonight his Master would have no patience whatsoever with any delay to his
plans.

The metallic butt plug was shiny, even more so after Skinner took his time
greasing it generously with the special lube that he took out of the purple bag.
It slipped in easily enough, being smaller than most of the dilators he had been
inserting in his pet's ass.  There were wires that led from it to a box with
dials that Skinner set up in plain view of his pet.

He took another item out of the other bag, something that resembled a thin dark
pencil about six inches long that also had wires coming out of one end.  After
he lubed it, Skinner took hold of his pet's now blood-engorged cock and pulled
it high towards his navel.   Carefully, he squeezed the glans so that the piss
slit opened wider and he twisted the thin rod in until it was all but an inch in
the urethra.  Then he removed the cock ring.

From the bag, Skinner removed a rubber ring and threaded the rod's wires through
it so that he could use the ring to hold back the foreskin against the shaft. 
Then he used the oval clip that he had added as decoration, threading the wires
through it twice and attaching these to another box, also in his pet's view.

"Next time, Pet, when I tell you to hold something in you, I'm sure that you
will."

He began playing with the dials on the box wired to his pet's cock.  Krycek's
eyes opened wide and he made a choked sound as a light shock hit him.

"Not really painful, Pet.  More along the lines of something to remind you what
I could be doing to your cock if I were less than fair in my punishments."

Then he played with the dials on the other box.  Krycek's scream was only
partially muted by the bit, his hips bucking as his ass tried to eject the plug.

"Now then," said Skinner thoughtfully, "this lesson won't be worth the learning
if you manage to push out that plug."  He turned down the dials, reached again
inside the purple bag and removed what looked to be a long strap that was
partially slit down the middle.  He snapped the solid end to the back of the
waist belt, placed Krycek's ringed balls and wired cock over the leather where
it split into two, snapping the two ends to the front of the belt.

"No way for you to push the plug out now and it frames your balls and cock
nicely.

"The electrical current really isn't strong enough to do permanent damage, Pet. 
The next time I put a dildo up your ass, you will hold it there.  The current
going to your cock will remain steady.  One impulse every five minutes, and
never stronger than what it is now.  But your ass will be on a different
schedule with different levels of voltage.  From a twinge to high.  From several
minutes apart to a series of impulses.  I thought the variety might keep your
interest."

He stood by, watching, just to be sure that the machines worked as the
shopkeeper had said they would.

His pet went wild-eyed as the current shocked his body.  His voice rose as his
hips did, depending on the force of the current.  He begged Skinner with his
eyes, with all the pleading he could put on his face.

Skinner watched, expressionless, until he was certain that his pet would not be
able to expel either probe, then he settled himself on the floor, back to a
wall, and dealt with the work he had brought home with him.  Now and then, he
would look up to see how his pet was dealing with the punishment and then go
back to the papers in his hands.

Three hours later, he finished reading and making notations on the last report. 
Krycek was dripping sweat, his hips twitching as he was hit by one of the lower
level shocks.  He looked at his Master, muffled voice and eyes begging even as
another series of shocks hit him.  He screamed, body arched, muscles trembling
violently.

Skinner went over to play with the boxes.  "I'm changing the time span, Pet, to
a half hour between charges.  If you time things well, you should be able to get
some sleep between impulses." And he went to bed.

The next morning, Skinner removed the electrified toys from his exhausted pet
and prepared him for his day. He was interested to see that the muscles
continued spasming, even when the current had been removed.  It worried him in
passing when his pet barely managed to lap any liquid:  his throat had to be dry
after the night's exertions.

He restrained his pet in position, placed the water bottle by his face so that
he could easily reach it with his mouth.  He patted him on his head before
leaving.  "Training tonight, Pet, so don't do anything that will make me have to
punish you. Is this understood?"

"Yes...Master," rasped his pet.

***

Skinner checked out the new position he had had his pet assume.

Stomach over an ottoman that he had brought up from the living room.  Collar and
hand chained to floor, ankles too so that his legs were pulled straight.

He had come home to find the water bottle empty which reassured him that his pet
was ready for his next bout of training.

Skinner crouched by his pet's head, stroking the hair off his face, thumb
caressing the bristle on a cheek.

"I decorated you, Pet, to make you more beautiful.  But now I want you to wear
my marks on your body.  So that when I look at you, I see not only your beauty,
but that you belong to me.  For you, these marks are there to remind you that
you deserve all this.  That your actions in the past have led you to this.

"I'll put them back whenever they fade, but I'll only restrain you in this way
until I'm certain that you can accept your marks without moving."

He brought the thin cane into his pet's line of vision. "Three strokes on your
shoulders.  One for me.  One for Scully. One for Mulder.  And three more on your
ass, three on your thighs.  You will count out each one, tell me whom it's for
and thank me for the privilege of wearing my marks on your body, Pet. Should you
forget, I will repeat that one on the soles of your feet.  Is this understood?"

"Please, I did what I could," Krycek begged.  "I gave you all that I safely
could!"

"Safely for whom, Pet?  For you?"  Skinner continued smoothing the hair off his
face so he could see it.  "You think I don't understand that you were keeping a
foot in both camps, covering all bases, just so that you would have what you
thought was secure footing on the winning side?

"But you slipped, Pet.  Into my hands."

Krycek protested, although weakly.  "You did the same thing."

"I did?  When?"

Krycek didn't respond.  Skinner grabbed his hair and shook him sharply.  "I
asked you a question, Pet."

"When you got the job as AD," his pet whimpered.  "You knew you were going to
have to pay for it."

Skinner grew very cold.  His pet must have realized that he had tread into
dangerous territory because he began sputtering, "I'm sorry, Master.  I didn't
mean to..."

"To bring it up?  But you have.  So why don't you continue.  What do you know
about my appointment as AD?"  He gave his pet another sharp shake.  "I'm
waiting."

Krycek grimaced.  "Spender pulled the strings that got you the job.  On order of
some of the New York Elders.  They thought you were ambitious enough to be
appropriately grateful.  Please, Master."

"No, go on.  It seems that you were further up the ranks than we thought.  What
else do you know?"

Krycek's voice turned pleading.  "I only know that because Spender discussed it
with the Brit when I was in the room.  And then another time, when he was pissed
off that you weren't acting the way they had expected.  That's when they decided
on the nanocytes.  As a way of bringing you back under their control."

"But it didn't work, did it, Pet?  I made a choice and stuck by it."

His pet turned panicky.  "You needed me on the inside.  If it hadn't been for
me...I did what I could."

"What?"  Skinner sounded dramatically surprised.  "Surely you didn't expect us
to welcome you with open arms?  Call you a...hero?...for the chances you took?"

Skinner's voice hardened.  "Well, Pet, welcome to *reality*. Where the guys in
the black hats have so much power that when you take them down, *your* name
becomes mud.  Where *you* have to defend yourself for having done the right
thing, the just thing.

"So, Pet, you see, doing what you *could* was not good enough. Now, do you
understand?"

"Yes, Master."  His pet's body was already quivering in anticipation of the pain
coming its way.

"So thank me, Pet."

"Thank you, Master."

Skinner played roughly with his pet's hair.  "Why are you thanking me, Pet?"

"For the privilege of wearing your marks on my body, Master," whispered his pet,
voice revealing his despair.

"And why am I marking you, Pet?"

"Because I deserve the marks, Master.  For what I did to all of you."

Skinner was pleased with the words, thought he'd be even more pleased when his
pet said them with real sincerity, because he truly believed them.

As Skinner rose, his pet's body braced in anticipation of this privilege.

Skinner looked at the thin cane in his hand.  He had been practising his swing
on a pillow in the living room.  Following the instructions he had found, again
on the Internet, he had covered the pillow with a dampened towel.  A proper
swing would leave a shallow imprint on the towel.  Too strong, too deep an
imprint would break the skin.  No imprint meant the blow would not mark.  And he
wanted marks.

Skinner took a stance and made the cane whistle in the air.  It landed hard on
his pet's shoulders.  The information he had also gotten about soaking the cane
before using it was proving to work well.  He watched as a lovely red welt rose.

Krycek didn't scream, but it took a moment for him to get enough breath into his
lungs:  "One, for you, Master" he gasped.  "Thank you, Master."

The second took a little longer.  Nothing that displeased Skinner, yet.  "Two,
for Scully.  Thank you, Master."

The third produced a sharp cry that promised to improve in the next minutes and
a near breathless, "Three, for Mulder.  Thank you, Master."

Skinner stooped to examine the welts that he had managed to rise fairly evenly
distanced from each other.

"Nice, Pet.  These look very good on you.  Now for your ass." And he rubbed his
hand over the fleshy parts of his pet's buttocks, satisfied at the feel of
muscles clenching under his touch.

The fact that his pet barely cried out at the first of that series annoyed him. 
The next blow was harder, delivered with far more strength that he had used
until then.  This time his pet's scream was very pleasing.  Less so was the
blood that beaded up and dripped down.

Damn, Skinner thought as he examined the broken skin:  he wanted welts, not
scars.

Though he held back on the next blow, his pet screamed satisfactorily for that
one.  As he did for each of the ones his Master placed on his thighs.  When he
finished, Skinner carefully examined each of the welts, save the bloodied one,
so that Krycek continued screaming in a way that more than satisfied Skinner.

Krycek sobbed as his Master released him, placing him in position for the night,
adding a blindfold as well.

"I want you to spend the night in submission, Pet.  I want you to take this pain
within you and make it part of you.  I'll release you in the morning."

Skinner made an effort to get home early that night.  He carried yet another of
those purple bags that caused his pet's weary eyes to slip into fear.

He placed it on the floor by the bathroom and led his pet through the usual
evening routine.  The toilet, feeding, watering.  His pet, he later noticed,
didn't seem to be very hungry.  Apart from a mouthful of the chopped up bar, he
lapped up only about half of the evening's ration of Boost.  Skinner did insist
that he drink more of the water, even going so far as to hold a glass to his
mouth and wait until he had finished it.  Over the course of the next hour, he
insisted his pet drink another two glasses.  After the second, he snapped a cock
ring snugly, but not tightly, around his pet's cock.

Then he placed his pet in position and left him while he went to eat his own
supper.

"Something new tonight, Pet."  Skinner turned on the light in the bathroom and
played in there, mostly out of his pet's sight.

He doubted that Krycek could see more than the tub being carefully cleaned out
with a strong smelling solution that made Skinner sneeze.

When the preparations met with Skinner's approval, he led his pet into the
bathroom, installed him in the tub as he would for his Saturday morning enema. 
He smiled as his Pet's eyes nervously tracked the room, noting the see-through
plastic bag that held the sterile solution hanging from the shower head.

"I like the fact that the enema cleans you properly, Pet, but that only deals
with the intestinal tract."  He washed his hands thoroughly and then snapped
latex gloves on.

He knelt by the tub, removed the cloth from the tray that sat on the closed
toilet lid.

He began by carefully cleaning his pet's swelling cock, paying special attention
to the foreskin, pulling it back to swab around the fold.  He even spent some
time on the slit, opening it with some pressure from his fingers, also passing a
swab in the tip.

"There, nice and clean.  Less chance of infection."

His pet, he noticed, was growing gradually more anxious.

He exchanged his gloves for fresh ones.  With a smile at his Pet, Skinner
removed a long sealed pack from the tray, snipped it open with scissors that had
been boiled in sterilizing fluid.  He was going to take no chances with his
pet's health.  Pain was one thing, illness was something else.

While his pet watched with widening eyes, he generously lubed the long narrow
tube that ended splitting into two smaller tubes. "Master?"

"Quiet, Pet.  You don't want to distract me.  I've never done this before."

Holding his pet's now stiffened cock by the head, Skinner pulled it up to his
navel, the underside and its vein in plain sight. With the other hand, he
inserted the tube into the piss slit and, gently rotated it so that it slipped
carefully into the urethra. Once it was in a couple of inches, he removed the
cock ring and continued inserting the catheter.

His pet, he noticed, was watching him intently, holding very still.

At one point, the tube hesitated in its descent when it encountered the bladder.
 With gentle insistence, it finally found its way inside his pet's bladder. 
Skinner finally stopped inserting the tube when it was in to the recommended
length, about 13 inches.

Once he was satisfied with its position, he inserted a syringe into the Luer
valve and carefully injected 30 ml of sterile water down the tube and into the
small balloon at the other end that would insure the tube was not coming out
until Skinner wanted it to.

"Uncomfortable?"  Skinner sat back on his feet and watched his pet's face deal
with the pressure in a bladder that probably needed emptying from the water he
had had him ingest earlier in the evening.

Krycek was breathing in the controlled manner he had when he was trying to
accept some new pain.  "Yes, Master."

"It will grow much more uncomfortable as we go on."

"Yes, Master.  Thank you, Master."

Skinner played with a valve on the tubing that descended from the bag attached
to the non-Luer ending.  As the sterile water filled the tubing, it went down
the catheter and out the open end into the bladder.  As more and more of the
solution did so, Skinner was pleased to see the mound build between his pet's
navel and pubic line.

And to see his pet squirm in his restraints as it grew.

But as more of the fluid entered, building up pressure, his pet was no longer
accepting this quietly.  He began moaning.

"Don't dramatize, Pet.  It won't get you anywhere."  Skinner was keeping an eye
on the level in the bag, noting that more than half the contents had already
gone into his pet's bladder.

Suddenly Krycek screamed, his body arching.

Skinner snapped his head back, ready to scold but realized that his pet was not
dramatizing.  His head back, throat so taut as to barely permit his screams out,
it was obvious that his pet was in excruciating pain.

Damn!  The site had warned of this happening.  A possibility that Skinner hadn't
really paid that much attention to, so pleased to have found another little game
to play with his pet's body. Still, he hadn't been totally arrogant about the
warning.  He had prepared for any emergency.

Quickly, he grabbed the scissors, cut the tubing so that the water in his pet's
bladder could eject.

He wanted to put his hand on the pelvic bulge and press down so that the water
would be eliminated faster, but caught himself: the literature he had read had
been very specific about not doing just that thing.

As the urine-tinged water shot out of the tubing, his pet's screams lessened
until he lay panting, gasping at the pain that was concentrated in the small of
his back.

Skinner hesitated, then placed his hand on his pet's head, gently stroked it. 
The warnings had been about fluid entering the kidneys.  Not something he had
wanted since that kind of damage was potentially dangerous, besides being
excruciatingly painful. Hopefully, he had reacted quickly enough.

"It's all right, Pet.  It's almost over."  He kept on with the calming touch. 
"We have to wait for your bladder to empty and then I'll take the catheter out."

By the time he had used the syringe to retract the water from the balloon, taken
the catheter out, Skinner was seriously angry with himself for trying something
that could have proven damaging to his pet.

He diapered his pet to catch the fluid still dripping out of his cock then led
him to his mat.  He would be more comfortable there than on the floor or in
position.  It was as close to an apology that he could come.

Then, apart from the daily maintenance rituals, the small preparations for the
day, such as adding weights to his pet's scrotum ring, reddening his ass,
Skinner allowed his pet two days to recover.  

Chapter 6:  In Which There Is a Change

Skinner slipped the enema nozzle up his pet's ass and released the cleansing
solution.  As it filled his pet's rectum, he took the time to examine the man
lying in the tub, waiting for Skinner to turn him around so that more of the
liquid could fill him up.

Though his eyes were open as they were whenever his Master was by him, they had
little life in them.  No fear, no anger, no hatred. Nothing.

And his eyes were sunk deep into almost purpled sockets.  The high cheekbones
stood out over the concave cheeks.  His mouth was slightly open as he breathed
in through his nose, out through his mouth as a method of controlling the
discomfort in his body.

Skinner dropped his gaze to examine the rest of his pet's body. The piercings
seemed to have taken well.  Apart from the nipples which were still slightly
swollen because Skinner moved the rings through their holes so that the small
wounds would not heal the rings in place, his body had accepted its decorations.

Skinner passed his hand under his pet's thighs, caressing the marks he knew were
there.  There was no reaction apart from a slight tightening of his pet's lips.

No, he thought, this was not good.  He wanted his pet with some spirit.  This
one seemed to have nothing in him.

And, come to think of it, he did have practically nothing in him. Skinner tried
to remember the last time he had had to add more of the power bars to the food
bowl...and couldn't.  He was throwing out more and more of the Boost.  The only
thing that had remained constant was his refilling the water bottle every
morning and evening.

He took the time to really look at the long body spread out for his pleasure and
realized that he could count his pet's ribs. That the pelvic bones stood out.

No, this was anything but good.

He slipped the nozzle out of his pet's ass, released him and settled him on the
toilet to void.

This was not the normal routine for a Saturday morning.  Once, his pet would
have looked at him with that delicious mixture of dread and wariness.  Now, he
barely raised his head.

Skinner thought over the week's training and had to admit that he had allowed
what was happening in the outside world to spill over into this one.  Training
had been harsh, as had punishments, because his days at headquarters were more
and more fraught with frustration.

He took the lead as his pet slipped to the floor in heel position and slowly,
lethargically followed him into the room.  Skinner stopped at the place he
usually restrained his pet and did some thinking.  He dropped the lead to the
floor and went out of the room.  When he came back some five minutes later, his
pet was in position, not having moved.  He should have been pleased, instead it
worried him.

He stooped, picked up the lead and took the few steps necessary to stand by his
pet's mat.

Krycek looked up enough to note where they were.  Skinner crouched in front of
him.  "Open your mouth, Pet."

Krycek's eyes meet his Master's and then dropped to the open hand in front of
his face.  There were three small white tablets lying on his Master's palm.

For a moment, Skinner saw a flash of something in his pet's eyes, and then, as
quickly, it was replaced by weary resignation.

"Tylenol 3, Pet.  That's all they are.  Take them."  And he held a glass of
water up with his other hand.

His pet made no move to take the pills.  Finally, voice raspy, he explained, "If
I take those, Master, they will put me to sleep."

"Yes," Skinner kept his voice gentle, "I know.  Open up, Pet."

Skinner placed the three pills in his pet's mouth, held the glass to his lips. 
His pet drank deeply.

Skinner caressed his pet's head.  "Now, on your mat, stomach down."

He used the longer chain at the neck so that his pet could turn his head.  He
released his pet's hand from the waist belt, added a short chain to the manacle
and attached the other end to the first chain.  His pet's ankles were secured to
either side, again with longer lengths so that, though they were held, they were
not confined to one position, in spite of the spreader that still separated his
knees.

Skinner looked at his pet's back, at his pet's lovely ass, at the nine marks of
his ownership, and enjoyed the beauty spread out before him.  He was going to
have to take better care of his pet. Or he was going to lose him.

Then, to his pet's stunned surprise, he gently covered him with a light cotton
blanket.

Looking over his shoulder, his pet's eyes were filled with an emotion that
Skinner didn't care to identify.  "Master?"

Skinner slowly stroked the now trembling face of his pet.  "Yes, Pet?"

"Master.  It's Saturday.  You...you always train me on Saturday."

"Yes, Pet?"

"Please, Master, will there be punishment for this, Master?"

Skinner was taken aback by the barely controlled terror on his pet's face and in
his voice.  "No, Pet!" he hurried to assure him, "No.  No punishment.  I told
you before, this mat is for reward.  You bore the week's training well.  This is
reward.  Now close your eyes and go to sleep.  If I want you, I'll wake you. But
frankly, Pet, I have to deal with a briefcase overflowing with work, so all I
want you to do now is sleep."

He doubted that his pet was reassured, but Krycek did close his eyes and, within
minutes, the drugs took over and he slipped into sleep.

Skinner sat back on his heels.  It looked as though he was not the only one who
had had the week from hell.  That his pet's was due to him was not something he
considered other than in passing. His pet had to be trained and deserved
punishment when he misbehaved.  Still, it was up to him as Master to pace these
sessions.

His hellish week had been due to one CGB Spender.  The man had fingers in more
pots than could be imagined.  He had friends in low places and in high ones and
was calling on all of them to work out a deal for his release.

Skinner had spent his week arguing against any such deal while his superiors,
highly placed members of other departments countered that Spender knew where far
too many bodies were buried.

Till now, Skinner, aided by Mulder and Scully, by other members of his
department, had managed to meet most of the countermeasures, but he had the
suspicion that things were not going their way.  And his feelings that anything
they did was ineffectual only added to his frustrations.

Fucking damn! thought Skinner, letting outrage threaten his control.  Then, as
he looked at the man who had borne the result of all of his anger, he forced
those feelings down.

It took more than a few moments.

When he had himself well in hand, Skinner carefully tucked an end of the cover
around the scarred stump, stood.  He left the light on in the bathroom,
something he never did, and went to tackle his bulging briefcase.

***

Five hours later, he crouched by his pet's side, passing a mug of soup back and
forth by his pet's nose.  Heavy-lidded eyes forced themselves open.

"Good, Pet.  Open them wide.  Wake up."

Krycek looked at his Master, still stupid from the drugs.  Then, as he
remembered, Skinner watched a gamut of emotions play through those eyes,
settling on a fearful unease.

"You need something to eat, Pet.  Raise your head."  Skinner slipped a small
cushion under his pet's face, covered it with a folded hand towel and, with a
finger on his pet's jaw, directed him to lay his cheek on it, facing him.

He filled a spoon with the fragrant broth and held it in front of his pet's
mouth.  "Open and swallow, Pet."

The broth was thick with pureed chicken and vegetables.  Skinner had figured
that in this position, it would be hard for his pet to chew.  As it was, some of
the broth stained the towel, more from his clumsy attempts to feed his pet than
his pet's to swallow.

Skinner insisted his pet finish the mug, wiped his face clean with the towel. 
Then, to his pet's amazement, he had him swallow two more of the white pills
along with a glass of water.

"Master?" whispered his pet as Skinner reached the door.

"Yes, Pet?"

Krycek hesitated, then, "Thank you, Master."

Skinner grunted, closed the door.

***

"Master," again whispered, "I'm awake."

Skinner looked down from the report he was reading.  His pet had slept soundly
through the afternoon, not even hearing him when he brought the armchair into
the room so that he could keep an eye on his pet while he plowed through more of
the reports that seemed to reproduce without his knowledge.

Skinner dropped the report into the open briefcase that sat on the floor.  He
moved off the chair and crouched to examine his pet.  With a slow caress, he
smoothed the hair off his pet's face and was pleased to see that, though their
gaze was wary, there was none of the blank terror that had resided in them
earlier that day.

He didn't mind a certain level of fear -- it was only right that his pet fear
him somewhat -- but he hadn't liked the abject terror.

"Time for the toilet, I think, Pet."

When they were through, he was pleased to see his pet lap up another bowl of the
thick broth.  And even enjoyed his pet's surprise when, instead of positioning
him on the floor, Skinner brought him back to his mat.

"On your stomach again, Pet."

This time, he didn't give his pet any meds, nor did he cover him. Instead, he
reached for a purple bag.  His pet showed his feelings for the bag when Skinner
caught him visibly bracing himself.

"Pet," he mock-scolded, "I told you, no training today.  No punishment."  He
took a bottle of lotion out of the bag, uncapped it and passed the open bottle
by his pet's nose.  A citric- orangey smell.

Skinner stood the bottle by the head of the mat, removed his shoes and then
straddled his pet's body with his knees. Carefully, he placed his hands on his
pet's head and gave him a moment to accustom himself to their presence before he
began slowly massaging his scalp with his fingertips.

"Pet?"

"Yes, Master?"  Krycek's voice held a hint of a wonder.

"You know how, when I blindfold you, you take the pain into yourself?"

His pet's body stiffened.  "Yes, Master."  There was only dumb acceptance in his
voice now.

"I want you to close your eyes and take this reward into yourself in the same
manner.  Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master."  But the slight question in his pet's voice meant that he really
didn't.

But he would, thought Skinner, as his hands continued easing the tension, the
knots he found in his pet's tight muscles.

He had finally admitted to himself that he enjoyed the touching ritual he had
established for settling his pet down for the night on his mat.  He liked the
feel of his pet's skin, the slight movement of muscles under his touch as he
played out the calming ritual.  Except that he found it was leaving him less
calm.  That on rising, he often had to re-adjust his pants.

At the beginning, his pet had not affected him in a sexual way, but that was
changing.  Now and then, he found himself wondering what it would be like to
fuck the lovely ass that bore his marks. Of pushing through the now-loosened
asshole, of coming deep in his pet's body.

He knew what his pet's screams of pain sounded like and wondered what they would
sound like if they were screams of completion instead.  If he did indeed scream.
 Maybe he only grunted.  If that were the case, thought Skinner, feeling himself
warm at the idea, his pet would have to be trained to scream.  Skinner realized
he wanted to hear his pet's screams whether they were from pain or from
pleasure.  A pleasure, Skinner cocked his head, considering, that his pet would
have to earn.

Soon the room smelt of lemons and oranges.

As he worked on one part of his pet's body, Skinner focused his attention on it.
 He hummed quietly to himself, a medley of tunes that went from bluegrass to
jazz to opera.

He was especially careful with the left stump, making certain that his hands
were generously slick with lotion as he worked on the scarred skin.  His
conscience had no trouble with his treatment of other parts of his pet's body,
but this one he had left untouched.  It had suffered enough, though not enough
to make up for all the things the rest of the body was responsible for.  For
Scully.  For Mulder.  For the many deaths this man was involved with.  For the
boy stolen from Russia, a pawn to be callously used for this man's purposes.

For what had been done to him.

Skinner held his hands still or he would have been tempted to turn the pressure
his hands exerted into something painful.

No.  Not today.  Between training and punishments, his pet had been pushed to
the extreme this week.  There would be other days for training, even for
punishments as he did not expect his pet to do well all the time.

He massaged the flesh that bore his marks and noted that they would have to be
refreshed sooner than he thought.  He would have to learn to hit harder without
breaking his pet's skin.

He slid down further so that he could work the lovely ass that bore his marks so
well.  He used his thumbs to separate the cheeks, rubbing his way up and down
the crack, spending some time soothing his pet's hole.

His pet's hips jerked a little.

Skinner found himself smiling.

He feather-stroked from the start of the crack down to just behind his pet's
ringed balls.  Soon he would work on separating those two lovely eggs in their
pouch.  He wanted his pet's balls to hang low and loose when he finally released
them from confinement.

He used his fingertips to tease the sensitive line again, to skim circles around
the puckered asshole.  And again got a restrained jerk.

And noticed that his own cock was also responding to the view in front of him.

Skinner sat back on his heels.  He had kept his pet naked not only to remind him
that his life was now in the hands of his Master, but also because looking at
his pet's body had given him a sense of ownership.

He loved seeing his rings gleaming in his pet's nipples, gold against the
slightly swollen nubs that just called out to be pinched.  And the sight of the
series of rings stretching down his pet's balls built a small fire in the pit of
his groin.  One day, he would release the elongated flesh, enjoy the sight of
his pet's balls hanging low, swaying as he moved in front of him. And his cock,
a beautiful snake that Skinner longed to train to his beck and call.

Without thinking about it, Skinner rubbed one of his hands over the bulge that
was growing hard in his pants.  He wondered if it might not be time to move his
mastership into a new area?

He loaded a finger with the lotion and slowly, cautiously penetrated the ringed
muscle.  His pet gasped, flinching.  Too bad, thought Skinner as he quickly
removed his finger, still too sore.  Off the mat, it wouldn't have mattered, but
here, he had promised his pet reward, not pain.  He moved further down to
concentrate on his pet's legs.

When he was done, he unchained his pet's feet.

"Turn over, Pet."

Almost reluctantly, his pet obeyed.

Skinner reconfined his pet's feet and looked up to see that his pet's body, in
spite of his usual treatment of it, had responded somewhat to today's
ministrations.  Though not erect by a long shot, his pet's cock was certainly
not flaccid either.

Skinner filled his hands with lotion and moved so that he straddled his pet's
chest.  With an encouraging smile, he dotted the lotion over his pet's face and
used his fingertips to smooth it in, using small circular motions.  Eyes, barely
open, watched him.  He closed them with his thumbs as he massaged the temples
with easy strokes.

When he passed a finger back and forth along dry lips, his pet's mouth opened
and the tip of a tongue met his finger, timidly daring to stroke it back.

Skinner's cock reacted once more.  Skinner felt an incredible rush: so his pet
still had the courage to play, did he?  Why? Did he think it would make his lot
easier?  Perhaps a little testing....

From that point on, Skinner's hands sent a different message to the body they
were touching.  Their touch soothed, but also aroused.  Fingertips teased the
sensitive skin of underarms, tugged gently at the tufts of hair.  Stroked,
barely skimming along the long rib cage, played around the ringed nipples.

Skinner moved further down and was not that surprised to encounter something
hard against his ass.  He raised himself just enough to pass over the bulge, his
ass, groin rubbing against it, making it even harder.

He leaned over, capturing the hardening cock against him, lowered his mouth over
one ringed nipple.  His pet gasped loudly as Skinner played with the rings,
using the tip of his tongue to flick the smaller one up and down, nipping at the
tip with his teeth, taking the larger ring between his teeth and tugging,
soothing the pain/pleasure with a hard suck before moving on to the other
nipple.

Krycek's chest raised, as if it needed to meet his mouth. Skinner played with
that nipple until he got a choked-off cry from his pet.  He raised his head. 
"Pet.  I have insisted you let me hear your voice when I train you, when I
punish you.  Do I need to insist to hear your pleasure as well?  You're not
allowed to prevent me from hearing your cries, your screams no matter what they
come from.  Is this clear to you, Pet?"

Krycek gasped, "Yes, Master."

Skinner grinned.  "Good," and bit on the tip of the second nipple, hard enough
for his pet to cry out.  Then he turned the cry to a gasp as he used his lips to
ease the pain.

His hands kept up their arousal as they worked their way down to his waist,
raising tremors in their wake until they arrived at his pet's groin.

And skipped over it.

Krycek gasped "No!" then held his breath, eyes afraid.

Skinner pretended he hadn't heard.  This was not a 'no' that he intended to
punish.

With the heady sense of power over his pet's body, Skinner laughed aloud, slid
off his pet's body to work on one leg then the other, all the while coming near
but never touching the now erect cock.

He spent some time on his pet's feet, especially when he realized how sensitive
they were.  When his touch elicited all sorts of gasping sobs which were not
derived from pain.

Skinner leaned over and removed the spreader used to keep his pet's knees apart.
 He knelt between his pet's legs, using his fingertips to tease the soft skin of
his inner thighs, grinning as his pet's hips rose, begging to be touched.

Skinner shimmied out of his sweat pants, reaching for the bottle of lotion.  He
didn't have a condom with him, but then his pet's ass was still too sore for
penetration.  And this was to be reward, for both of them.

He stroked himself with one hand as he slipped the other under his pet's ass and
rubbed his middle finger back and forth along his crack, appreciating the soft
moans coming from his pet.

Krycek choked off a scream as Skinner's hand came back to stroke his rampant
cock, his thumb rubbing the foreskin completely back, then moving back and forth
along the purpling head. His pet's hips rose, up and down, as he fucked himself
in the loose/hard grip Skinner kept around his cock.

Krycek came first, shooting over his body, with a shout as loud as any caused by
training or punishment.  Skinner milked him with a sure hand then, rising to his
knees, grunted as he directed his own come over his pet's body.

Skinner caught his breath, sighed his pleasure.  When he could, he looked around
the room and spied the towel he had used earlier to catch the spills when he had
fed his pet.  He stood, reached for it, cleaned himself off.  He was going to
use it to clean off his pet's body when he had another idea.

He gave his pet the time he needed to recover from the orgasm he'd teased out of
him.  When his eyes finally opened, Skinner felt that he'd been hit in the gut
at the erotic pleasure he saw in his pet's darkened green eyes.  They were
always beautiful, but never anything like this.

"Master?"

Skinner just smiled at him, passed his hand over his pet's body, mingling their
come.  He held up his hand to his pet's face. "Clean it off, Pet.  Taste
yourself mixed in with me."

Krycek opened his mouth, slowly licked from the base of his Master's palm to the
fingers.  And again.

"Yes, that's the way."

Between licks, Skinner rubbed their come over his pet's body.  "I want you to
wear our come, Pet, until tomorrow.  To remember that you belong to me in all
ways.  In training.  In punishment.  In reward."  Skinner let his voice go
husky.  "Especially in sex."

"Yes, Master."  Cat-like, Krycek sleepily rubbed his face against the
come-sticky palm of his Master's hand.

Skinner smiled his approval.  He wiped the last of it off into his pet's hair. 
"You will sleep now.  Training continues tomorrow."

"Yes, Master."

Skinner stood, placed his briefcase on the chair, carried it out to the hall.

"Master?"

"Yes, Pet?"

"Thank you, Master."

Skinner paused at the door, warmed by the first sincerity he had heard in his
pet's voice.  He looked over his shoulder.  "My pleasure, Pet."


Chapter 7:  In Which Training Moves Downstairs


The next morning, Skinner lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, rehashing his
thoughts from his middle of the night contemplations

He had decided that he had no intention of stopping the training: his pet needed
it if he were going to make up for all the pain he had caused.  But after almost
succeeding in breaking him, Skinner discovered he really didn't much care for a
dispirited pet.

And he really had to admit that he had enjoyed that last session. That, though
it pleased him to see his pet responding to pain, he had also reaped the
benefits of seeing him respond to pleasure.

His original plans for his pet had only gone as far as his mastering of his
enemy.  He had had his pet's screams, his pleadings, his tears.  And he had
enjoyed each and every one of them.

Now, the situation had changed.  He wanted more than revenge for past events. 
He wanted to hear his pet use last night's final tone as he asked for training.

Maybe that was part of the problem:  he was so overworked at Headquarters that
he had been too focused on training to deal with the obvious.  That his pet was
a wonderfully sensual, sexual creature.

Eyes closed, he dropped his hand to his cock, played with it as he thought of
the beauty that was his pet.  Now that his pet seemed to understand and be
accepting his position in his master's life, he should take advantage of the
fact.  That, as he stroked himself, orgasm  -- he grunted his release -- was as
good a stress-releaser as was the training.

When he went in to his pet, he found him awake, eyes watching him enter
with...anticipation?  He released him, led him into the bathroom.  Maybe he was
only imagining it, but his pet seemed more... interested -- he wouldn't use the
term eager -- this morning.

After the regular morning ritual, Skinner helped his pet into the tub.  Their
mixed come was flakey on his pet's body, his hair matted where Skinner had wiped
his hand.

"Itchy, Pet?"  Skinner rubbed the palm of his hand over the sticky white.

"Yes, Master."

Skinner rinsed a face cloth under the tap, lathered it up and, gently rubbing
circles on his pet's body, he cleaned off the dried come.  His pet, he noticed,
leaned into the hand touching him.

Skinner sat on the edge of the tub and slowly washed his pet's body, actually
playing with it, watching his pet for any and every reaction.  When the soapy
cloth enveloped his cock, his pet jerked his hips, made a soft sound that could
have been a moan. Skinner took the cloth away and this time the sound might have
been a faint protest.

Skinner placed his hand on the back of his pet's head, indicating that he wanted
him to lean forward.  The cloth carefully cleaned his back, taking time with
each buttock, making certain that the skin between each of those was absolutely
clean.  In fact, his finger had to run up and down several times to insure that
its work was done, lingering over his pet's hole.

When he indicated that his pet was to sit up, so that he could turn on the
shower to wash his hair and rinse him off, Skinner noticed that his pet's eyes
had darkened.

Instead of the usual rough quick drying, Skinner took his time. When he was
done, he really did have to inspect his work, making certain that his pet was
indeed dry.  By the time he had satisfied himself by stroking and caressing his
pet's body, they were both breathing harder than usual.

Skinner took his pet's lead in hand, directed him to the door of his room.

Krycek looked up from his position, not really knowing what was expected of him.

Skinner ignored the confusion in his pet's eyes, opened the door and led his pet
down the hallway, to the top of the stairs.  The last time Krycek had seen those
steps, he had dragged himself up them, accompanied by Skinner swinging his belt.

Skinner looked down at his pet.  "I think you'll find it easier to get down if
you go backwards."  And he dropped the lead.

Krycek slowly turned so that his knees rested at the top of the first step and
went down, anxiously checking with Skinner for confirmation that he was doing as
he was supposed to, until he reached the landing.  Skinner came down the stairs,
passed him and waited for him at the bottom.  Once Krycek assumed his heel
position by his Master's feet, Skinner smiled at him, picked up the lead and
ruffled his hair.  "Well done, Pet."

And saw his pet's eyes suddenly go shy.

He led his pet into the kitchen, had him assume his position beside a chair by
the table.  Once more, he released the lead and nodded approvingly as his pet
turned his head to watch his Master go about preparing breakfast.

Skinner set a bowl filled with porridge, brown sugar, cream, pecans on the
table.  He filled a smaller one with porridge and brown sugar.

"Up on your knees, Pet.  Sit back on your heels.  Good.  Whenever I feed you
from now on, this is the position you're to take. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."  And the slight tone of wonder in his pet's voice pleased him.

Between spoonfuls for himself, he fed his pet from the smaller bowl.  Boost and
chopped up power bars were fine enough as staples, thought Skinner, but his pet
needed to put some meat on those bones of his.

He waited until his pet had eaten, held a glass of milk to his mouth.  Krycek
made a small grimace, opened his mouth and accepted the liquid.  "Don't like
milk, Pet?"

Krycek sighed.  "Don't like the taste of it, Master," he admitted with a soft
voice.

Skinner laughed, went to a cupboard.  He stirred something into the glass and,
crouching, presented it to his pet.  "Is this better?"

Krycek looked at the now chocolate-coloured liquid, bit his lower lip and gave a
little nod.

"I'll remember from now on, Pet," Skinner promised.

Startled green eyes met his over the rim of the glass.

Those eyes grew worried when Skinner led his pet into his office and he saw the
table Skinner had used for the piercings.  Skinner said nothing:  it was not up
to him to explain himself to his pet.  Still, he did give his pet a boost so
that he could swing his knees up onto the tabletop.

He had placed the table by his desk chair so that, as he read, his left hand
would have something to play with, should it amuse him.

First though, his pet was rather too plain for his mood today. He had him sit up
as for feeding and looked his pet's body over with a critical eye.  Then he went
to get the purple bag from his desk, hiding it from his pet's view.

"Since I've ringed them, your nipples are not going to be easy to clamp, Pet. 
But I like the elongated shape of them so I think these will help keep them that
way."  And he hung from the smaller of the rings a couple of the small plumber's
leads which were heavier than they looked.

"And your chest seems too bare.  This might do."  From one larger ring to the
other he attached a gold chain, decorated that with what seemed at first glance
to be fishing lures, spinners that would grow heavier as the day passed.

From the navel ring, Skinner hung another of the gold chains whose other end he
attached to the oval that pierced his pet's foreskin.  It was only long enough
to hold his cock to a half mast position, pulling a little on both rings.

"Position, Pet."  And Krycek leaned forward, resting his weight on his
shoulders, ass high in the air.  Gravity pulled on the weights on his nipples,
the chain, even his cock.

Skinner passed a hand under his pet's body, making certain that nipples, navel,
cock and their decorations were all easily accessible to his hand.

Then he stood behind his pet.  "I intend fucking you tonight, Pet.  Good and
hard, up your ass.  You're still a little too tender for that right now, but
after a day of wearing this," he eased a butt plug, lubed with medicated
ointment, into his pet's ass, "you should be able to endure a little more
tenderness."

He slipped his hand between his pet's spread thighs and noted that his pet's
cock was less flaccid than it had been.  So his pet liked the idea of being
fucked, did he?

"I want to start working on your balls, Pet.  I want them lower, so that they
swing between your thighs when you move.  These weights will help pull them down
more so that soon I'll be able to add another ring to your collection.   Now for
some added definition.  This thong is leather.  Nice and soft.  I'm going to use
it from now on to separate your balls, Pet.  Through this loop and under, and up
again.  I'll leave this length free so that I can tighten it whenever I feel
like it."

He passed a soothing hand over his pet's trembling back, enjoying his pet's
reactions to his words.  He went to tighten the thong but decided that, for the
first day, the tension was more than ample.  He wanted his pet to feel the
thong, but not beyond the edge of pain.  Not today.

He used the usual restraints and then stood back to admire the lovely picture
his pet made in this position.  He might not be able to spend all his time
enjoying this view, but it would make going through the rest of those reports a
little easier.

He settled in his chair and tested out the position of the table and his pet. 
It was low but if he bent over, he could pass his hand under his pet's torso,
pull on the weights that decorated his pet's nipples, play with his cock, tug on
the leather separating his pet's balls, even use the plug to tease his ass. His
pet's responses were very satisfying:  soft gasps, low moans.

If he continued with this particular training, Skinner thought, he would need to
find a higher table for his pet.

Sometime after the third report, he realized that his pet's body was sheened,
slight shivers making it quiver.  And his pet was hard, pushing his cock against
his hand whenever he reached to play with it.  "Pet," he spoke sternly, "I hope
you know you don't have permission to come until I allow it.  And since the cock
ring is upstairs and I don't feel like going up for it, you'll have to tell me
whenever you feel close to the edge.  I don't want to ruin tonight with
punishment instead of reward, Pet.  Is this understood?"

His pet whimpered, "Yes, Master."

It didn't take particularly long, especially since Skinner paid more and more
attention to his pet's body.  In a timorous voice, as if not certain of how he
would react, his pet whimpered, "Master?"

"Yes, Pet."

"Master.  I'm...I think...Master, you told me to tell you..."

"I told you to tell me when you thought you were going to come. Is that what
you're trying to tell me now, Pet?"

"Yes, Master."

Skinner stopped his hand from playing with his pet's turgid cock. He slipped it
to his pet's now-sensitized balls and squeezed. His pet gasped but his cock
obediently reacted.

"You did that well, Pet.  I'm pleased that you followed my instructions."  He
rubbed his free hand over his pet's back. "Remember, I want to fuck you tonight.
 You're not permitted to come until I allow you.  If I allow you."

At lunchtime, he had his pet follow him into the kitchen. There he fed him bits
of a sandwich, had his fingers timidly licked by a pet who seemed not at all
certain of the rules outside of his room.  As his pet's cock softened, Skinner
found himself hardening at the sight of his pet's incredible eyes that revealed
his every emotion.  In the artificial light of his pet's room, he had denied
himself that pleasure.

And the pleasure of properly seeing his pet bear his marks on his body.  Back in
his office, his pet once more in position for his attentions, he let his hands
wander over the fading marks of his ownership, all the while once more arousing
his pet.  It had pleased him to put them there, pleased him to see them, to
touch them.

He wondered how much more pleased he would be if his pet ever asked for them to
be placed on him.

The beeper on his watch startled both of them.  Skinner grinned, tossed the
report onto the pile in the briefcase, closed it.  He helped his pet down off
the table and brought him into the living room, stayed him by the couch which
faced the large screen TV. Skinner got himself a beer, a glass of juice with a
straw for his pet and made himself comfortable for the football game that was
just starting.  He had his pet come sit by his legs, place his head on his lap. 
Skinner amused himself by playing with his pet's hair, his features, his
shoulders as the game progressed.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to come, Master."

Skinner looked at his pet's face, lids heavy with arousal, lips wet, face
flushed.  He had missed seeing this all day what with his pet's face away from
him.

"You're not to, Pet."

"Yes, Master, I know."  His pet sounded a little plaintive, thought Skinner.

"I'm going to have to use a cock ring on you next time, Pet."  He reached down
his pet's body, to his cock and gave it a painful squeeze at the root.  For a
moment, he thought his pet was going to disobey him and come.  Shit!  He really
didn't want to have to punish his pet tonight.  But the moment passed and his
pet's cock settled.

"Thank you, Master."

Skinner smiled:  his pet sounded more than a bit frustrated.

"I think, Pet, we are going to make an early night of it tonight. This carpet
was recently cleaned and I don't intend having it cleaned again soon.  Is this
understood?"

"Yes, Master."

The rest of the game could have included the sudden appearance of aliens for all
Skinner knew.  Twice more he had to cool his pet's arousal and it only increased
his own.  No sooner had the game ended than Skinner stood up.

"Upstairs, Pet.  Wait for me at the door of your room.  And I don't want to see
you rubbing yourself on the steps going up."

"No, Master."

From the bottom of the stairs, Skinner watched his pet make his way up,
stiffened cock bobbing, bound balls moving back and forth between his pet's
thighs.  He waited until his pet was working on the second series to get what he
needed out of the downstairs bathroom.

His pet waited in perfect heel position as he opened the door, turned on all the
lights.  Skinner had no intention of missing any reaction on his pet's face.

"Your mat, Pet."

Once there, chained in place, Skinner slipped on the cock ring from his pet's
stock of toys, made it tight so that he could play with him until he felt like
letting his pet come.

Krycek looked disappointed but, other than a small groan, said nothing, hiding
his face behind his hair.  That was another thing, thought Skinner:  he had to
do something with all that luscious hair.

He began by caressing his pet's body with long, soothing strokes that did
anything but soothe.  His pet had been on the point of coming for most of the
day.  It didn't take much to return him to that point again.

And he himself was not that far away.  Hell, he was going to need a cock ring
too if this kept on.

So he slowed his hands, used his mouth to elicit those delicious sounds from his
pet that only served to make him harder.  He played with the weights on his
pet's nipples, tugging at them, making his pet's chest arch into the sensation. 
As his hands stroked teasingly along the rib cage, down long-muscled flanks, his
pet's ass bucked as though he were trying to fuck himself on the plug in his
ass.

Skinner's arousal rose at the sight of his pet, head tossed back, neck tendoned,
chest rapidly rising and falling, hips almost demanding his attention.   His own
body was so heated that his t- shirt and sweat pants were becoming soaked.

Skinner rose, stripped quickly.  As quickly, he rolled a condom onto himself,
lubed it.  He turned his pet into position, pulled the plug out not at all
gently, not that his pet seemed to mind. Hard hands gripping his pet's hips, he
stilled them long enough to align himself with his pet's asshole, then, with one
rushed move, plunged deep into his pet's hot ass.

His pet screamed, whether in pain or in pleasure was hard for Skinner to
distinguish.  Not that he cared:  his own moan of satisfaction mingled with his
pet's.

They paused, each catching his breath.  Skinner moved first, slipping his hands
under his pet's body, to his nipples and gripping around them, he pulled his
pet's body close so that his ass sat solidly against Skinner's erection.

"I want you to show your Master how much you've appreciated this weekend, Pet. 
I want you to fuck yourself against me.  I want you to make me come all by
yourself."

And he dropped a hand to his pet's ringed cock, passed his palm along the
dripping head and gave it a stroke.  His pet's ass pulled forward and the
internal muscles, strengthened from his Master's desire that anything inserted
in his ass was to stay there, squeezed his Master's cock so that Skinner's voice
groaned his approval.

Shoulders on his mat, body shifting back and forth, Krycek milked his Master's
cock for all he was worth.  As his own cries, more of frustration than pleasure,
mingled with his Master's, Skinner unsnapped the cock ring and felt his pet's
cock go even harder in his hand.  He copied the rhythm that his pet had
established but his pet had been on tenterhooks for too long:  with a keening
scream, Krycek came, his come shooting over his Master's hand. His ass muscles
froze in the process of capturing his Master's cock and that was all Skinner
needed to go over his edge.  He came deep within his pet's ass.

With a sigh of content, Skinner sagged onto his pet's back, his pet's position
keeping him off the mat.

Slowly, Skinner moved off the slickened body, found his own position, almost a
duplicate of his pet's.  He must have dozed off because he came to himself to
find his pet snuggled close to him, eyes closed, hips in the forbidden position
of resting on his feet.  Skinner closed his eyes, feeling no need to punish his
pet for this disregard of the rules.

Not today.

***

The eyes that greeted him those next evenings were hope tinged with wariness. 
It was obvious that his pet did not believe in this turn of fortune, but was
willing to go along with the easier training.

Every night, Skinner opened the door of his room, released his pet from whatever
position he had placed him in for the day, might change some of his decorations,
but would then instruct him to go downstairs to the kitchen.

His pet still ate his morning meal in his room, but now, evenings, he joined his
Master, accepting his food from his Master's hands, licking them clean in
thanks.

The evening's training came next.  Sometimes, Skinner slipped a cock ring onto
his pet; other times not, with the warning reminder that he was not to come
unless allowed.  Either way, he then set about making it very difficult for his
pet.

The first evening, Skinner still had reports to read, so his pet waited
patiently on his table, unrestrained, on his back this time, while Skinner
rewarded himself at the end of each report by playing with his pet's body.  That
night, they didn't make it back to his pet's room:  Skinner flipped his pet
around, took him almost brutally.  His pet was so aroused by then that he
doubted that his pet noticed the less than gentle way his Master pumped himself
into orgasm before allowing him to come in turn.

Another evening, Skinner settled in front of the TV to watch a basketball game. 
He spent the first half, his kneeling pet between his knees, stroking and
teasing his body until his pet, cock tightly ringed, was in tears.  At half
time, he asked, "Would you like to come, Pet?"

Krycek was flushed red with thwarted arousal, from his head to his groin.  Even
his cock head was deep purple with restrained blood.

"Yes, please, Master," he gasped.

Skinner pulled on his pet's balls, the sudden pain dampening his need.  He
unsnapped the cock ring and sat back in the couch, stretching out his denim-clad
leg.

"Then you may, but against my leg, Pet."

Krycek managed to cover the small distance quickly, almost throwing himself
against his Master's leg.  Like a dog, he humped the rough material, letting his
Master know his appreciation by his vocalizations, by keeping his eyes on his
face all the while he rubbed his cock between his body and his Master's leg.

As he came, Skinner grabbed hold of his face so he could see the effect of his
pet's orgasm on his eyes.  They grew glassier as he shouted, the green
darkening, the iris widening until all Skinner could see of the green was a thin
ring around the open iris.

Skinner bent and took possession of his pet's mouth, wide open as it was with
the rictus of his orgasm.  Krycek closed his eyes, let his Master claim
dominance over his mouth, as was his right.

Then Skinner opened his jeans, took out his own erection and stroked it until he
shot all over his pet's face.

"Clean my pants first, Pet, then yourself."

And spent the second half watching as his pet meticulously licked every bit of
his come off his Master's jeans, then, with his Master's permission, wiped his
face against his Master's jeans and cleaned them off again.

***

"I'm going to fist you this weekend, Pet.  And this time, when my hand is deep
in you, you're going to come when I tell you to."

Skinner was watching some cop show on television, sitting in the middle of his
couch, feet propped up on the table where his pet was usually in position for
his attentions.  Except that tonight, collar leashed to one of the table
restraints, hand attached to the back of the waist belt, fettered ankles chained
to the knee spreader, his pet lay across his lap, caged cock between his
Master's thighs, awaiting his Master's pleasure.

Tonight, his Master's pleasure had been, so far, to slip a dildo into his ass,
the same one that had caused him to be so severely punished when he hadn't been
able to keep it in his ass.  Skinner had lubed it well, was playing at twisting
it in and out of his pet's ass, while his pet muted his responses against the
cushion.

"On Saturday, I think.  I'll clean you out properly and then leave you to open
yourself up for me."

His pet was feeling braver these days with this new behaviour of his master's. 
"Master?"

"Yes, Pet."

"How am I to do that?"

"Leave a little anticipation for then, Pet.  Right now, I think you have
something else to worry about."

"Master?"  His pet's voice reflected the uncertainty he felt that was never far
away, no matter how good his Master's mood.

"I love your ass, Pet.  Have I told you that?"

"Yes, Master."  Now his pet was carefully neutral.

Skinner grinned.  "I love the shape of it."  He stroked a hand over the globes. 
"The sight of it, especially with your hole nicely open as it is now."  He moved
the dildo in and out again, pulled it completely out and, leaning over,
deposited it on the table.  "My marks look good on it, even if they are in need
of replacement."

His pet trembled at that thought.  "Master?" he whispered, continuing when
Skinner grunted, "Will you be doing that soon? Replacing them?"

Skinner could hear the disquiet in his pet's voice.  He rubbed a soothing hand
on the lovely mounds that claimed his attention tonight.

"Soon, Pet.  But I promise to give you time to prepare for them this time.  I'll
put you in submission first, and when I think you're ready, I'll mark you.  I
would prefer not to chain you down this time, Pet.  Do you think that'll be
possible?"

Skinner felt his pet take a deep breath.  "If it is what you want, Master."

Skinner moved his rubbing up his pet's spine to the top of his shoulders.  "You
need to wear my marks, Pet," he explained gently.  "They're there to remind you
that not only do I own you, but that you deserve to wear them."

"Yes, Master."

Skinner slowly caressed his pet's ass, almost moved by the tone of near
acceptance in that last reply of his pet.  He decided to push his pet one step
further in his training.  "I would prefer that you want to wear them as well."

Krycek didn't answer right away. Skinner gave his shoulder an understanding
squeeze.  "It's all right, Pet.  I expect that may be a bit much this soon in
your training.  But that's for a later date.  Right now, I have this lovely ass
on my lap and it's far too white for my taste.  It needs colour, Pet."

And he brought his hand down hard on one of the tight globes, raising a pink
hand-print.

His pet grunted in surprise.

Slowly, taking time to appreciate every shift in colour on his pet's ass,
Skinner continued, taking his time, spanking his pet throughout the next program
he was listening to, some political interview thing on PBS that had the Director
of the FBI in its grilling seat.  Skinner listened with half an ear as the
Director, political crony and whore that he was, explained away sensitive
situations as though they were a golf game.

Now and then, when a particular response of his boss irritated him, Skinner's
hand came down harder on his pet's wriggling ass.

By the end of the program, his pet's buttocks, the top of his thighs were
flaming red, as was the palm of Skinner's hand.  His pet's face was streaked
with tears, his breath hitching with sobs that the cushion no longer muted, that
Skinner hadn't heard once the Director had hinted at deals that were for the
good of the country at large.

He cleaned his pet's face, brusquely took him up to his room still wearing the
cage around his now flaccid cock.

When Skinner checked in before going to bed, his pet was in position, his
reddened ass in the air, breath hiccuping as though he had cried long after the
spanking had stopped.

Skinner removed the cage, took the bottle of lotion, smoothed some onto his
pet's red bottom and blindfolded him in order to put him into submission for the
night.

"Master?" his pet whispered.

"Yes, Pet."

"Are you going to mark me tomorrow, Master?"

It took Skinner a moment to remember his promise to put his pet into submission
before he marked him next time.  "No, Pet.  This is for you.  Get some rest. 
You'll find your ass won't hurt you anywhere near as much tomorrow."

"Yes, Master.  Thank you, Master."

***

Skinner looked over at his pet and wondered at his beauty.

Saturday had begun with the usual rituals.  This time the enema cleansing had
been thorough as Skinner intended to carry out his promise to make his pet come
as he fisted him.

He insisted his pet eat a light breakfast, knowing that the day would be hard on
his pet, but not wanting him to lose the weight the past week had added to his
bones.

Now his pet knelt in the doorway of the closet.  His collar and hand were
chained with a fair amount of leeway to the top beam; his ankles, to either side
of the doorway.

Skinner had decided that it would be only fair for his pet to open himself up in
preparation for his Master's fist.  The dildo was huge, tapering from a narrow
head to a base that was nearly as  wide as Skinner's fist.  Skinner had lavishly
lubed it, set his pet's ass just over the point and left him to decide how and
when he would slide his ass down to the base.

"You do have a time limit, Pet.  I want to find that dildo in you, all the way,
by the time I finish with the shelving and display wall."

His pet had acquired so many toys and training implements, punishing ones as
well, that Skinner felt it was time for all of them to be on display where they
would be readily at hand whenever he wanted them.  So, to that purpose, he was
using one of the walls in his pet's room to put up shelving and a display board.

And Skinner worked to the music of the whimpers, the grunts, the occasional
moans of his pet as he worked at easing in the dildo, stretching himself for his
Master's hand.

Since sex had entered his pet's training, Skinner had decided he wanted to come
in his pet's throat without having to worry about him gagging.  This was as good
a time for that training as well. He used the brace to open his pet's mouth
large enough to fit his cock in to the root.  He inserted a cock gag, a short
yet thick form that ended near the back of the throat, into his pet's mouth so
that he could grow accustomed to having something big and long in his mouth,
without gagging or vomiting.

His pet was more than uncomfortable with that.  In fact, it caused him to panic,
almost stop breathing.  Skinner quickly took a position behind his pet, held him
steady against his legs, hands stroking his chest, his throat.  "Breathe through
your nose, Pet.  Calmly.  I'm right here.  If you stay focused, you won't have
any trouble.  You can do this."

Krycek shook his head, eyes wild, throat working hard around the intrusion,
muted sounds forced out.

"Hush, Pet.  You can do this.  That's right, you can."

It took a while but he finally got Krycek to accept the cock gag.

Now and then, he went over to check that his pet was indeed working on his
chores for the day.  He was pleased to see the dildo was slowly stretching his
pet's anus though it was obvious from the tears that dripped off his pet's face
that he wasn't very comfortable with the preparation for today's training.

He crouched next to his pet, hand gentle on his face as he slowly licked the
small stream of tears off first one side then, turning his face, the other.

"Ah, Pet.  How can something this salty taste so sweet?"

When he thought his pet had managed to insert a good half of the dildo in him,
he changed the cock gag for a longer, larger one. Once more, he had to stay with
his pet while he accepted the gag, calming him.

"Easy, Pet.  Easy.  You can do this.  Think of the pleasure it will give me, to
be accepted deep in your throat."  He stroked the hair off his pet's face,
dampened as it was with the sweat of his pet's efforts, his tears.

Skinner had promised that he would make his pet come from the evening's fisting,
but he thought that some encouragement would not be out of bounds.

So, every time he passed by, he took the time to play with his pet's exposed
body.  By now, he knew that playing with his pet's nipples always produced a
reaction in his cock.  He also liked the one he got when he sucked on his pet's
ear lobes, his tongue twisting in the valleys of his ear.  And that his hips
jerked when he stroked carefully up one thigh around, but not touching, his
cock, then down the other thigh.

And his pet's cock was appreciative of the attention he was giving his pet's
body.  It had begun the day flaccid, but it was amazing what a little mechanism
called the Gates of Hell could accomplish.  Not that the rings made him hard,
they just made it impossible for him to soften once he had gotten hard.

"Almost done here, Pet.  How are you doing?  Excellent!"  The dildo was almost
completely in, his pet's thigh muscles quivering, his ass barely an inch off the
floor.  He praised his pet, caressing his face, his body, leaning over and
placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Now I think it's necessary for you to keep that dildo in you until this
evening."  He went to one of the newly set up shelves, took down the strap that
he had used to keep the shocking butt plug in his pet's ass and set it up to do
the same with the dildo.

Then he removed the cock gag, the brace and gently massaged his pet's jaw points
until he could close his mouth.  He let his pet rest his head against his
shoulder, smoothing back the long hair,

"I think I know what I want to do with your hair, Pet.  Into the bathroom.  Yes,
I know it's going to be very uncomfortable getting there, but I expect to find
you there when I come back. So far," he held his pet's face between his hands,
"you've pleased me greatly with your behaviour.   Don't make me punish you,
Pet."

So, he really wasn't surprised to find his pet in the bathroom when he returned.
 And he had given him more than ample time to make his way over in spite of the
massive dildo he carried in him.

He leaned his pet over the side of the tub, washed his hair, carefully massaging
his scalp until he felt some of the tension leave his pet's body.  Good.  He
didn't want him too tensed for tonight's fisting.

While his hair was still wet, Skinner had his pet kneel up between his legs,
back to him.  With a long-tailed comb, Skinner methodically separated his pet's
hair and, tip of tongue sticking out from between his lips, he french-braided
his pet's hair as his wife had taught him to do when she had worn her hair long.
It was a style that took all the hair off his pet's face, that confined it so
that it wouldn't get in the way, that gave him some kind of grip if he wanted to
get a good hold on his pet's head.

When he was done, he had his pet move out to the wall by the closet, had him sit
so that he could rest his back against the wall and there, left him restrained
while he went to prepare something light for his pet's afternoon meal, his last
one before the fisting.

***

Krycek lay on his back, his ass on the edge of the table that Skinner had moved
from the office, wary eyes never leaving his master's face.

Skinner chained his collar snugly, but not tightly, to both sides of the table. 
He passed a caressing hand over his pet's face, knowing he was bracing himself,
remembering the pain of that first fisting.

He released the spreader, gently massaged the skin where the restraints had
been, stretched the leg out and restrained that ankle to the floor then went to
work on the other leg.  He massaged out the tension in the muscles, not wanting
a cramp to interrupt the evening's activity.  He wasn't reluctant to use his
fingertips, his mouth to bring pleasure to his pet's preparation.

When he was satisfied, he folded the leg at the knee and, using soft clothesline
cord, he tied the lower leg to the upper with a series of knots.  Then he folded
the bound leg back at the thigh and brought it down to the side of his pet's
body, attaching it to a near-by edge of the table with another piece of softened
cord.  He bent and kissed his pet's trembling mouth, hoping to reassure him. 
Then he went and dealt with the second leg as he had the first.

His pet lay, legs folded and bound back, genitals exposed, hips raised so that
his ass was completely off the table, his weight centred in his chest.

Skinner knew that the position was putting a great deal of pressure on the dildo
in his pet's body but it would be still a while before he took steps to remove
it.  He slipped a small pillow under his pet's hips, to ease the strain on his
back.

Now then, to arouse his pet.

Not a hardship, he thought as his mouth sucked and nibbled its way up an exposed
thigh.  He passed his closed mouth back and forth over the head of his pet's
cock, his lips rubbing the tip, making it weep.

His pet's gasps, whimpers, pleas were a combination of his discomfort, his fear,
his expectations.  His arousal.

"Is there anything sweeter, Pet, than the smell of your arousal?" He took the
head gently between his teeth, rubbed his tongue against the sensitive glans. 
His pet's hips tried to rise up as he cried out.

Skinner smiled, but decided that this wasn't enough.  His pet needed to be far
more prepared.

He leaned over from between his pet's legs, braced himself with his hands on
either side of his pet's body and took one of those so sensitive nipples in his
mouth.  He teased it, tugged on its rings, bit, sucked until he no longer heard
the fear in his pet's cries.

Once he had dealt with the other nipple, he moved, using his hands to shape the
body that writhed in its bonds beneath his, arousing it even further.

When his pet's pleas were so unintelligible that Skinner couldn't make out the
words, or even if those sounds were supposed to be words, he pulled away from
his pet's body.  He stripped off all his clothes, pulled on a
long-to-the-shoulder latex glove and placed the bottle of lube by his pet's
raised ass.

First, the dildo had to come out.  Skinner removed the strap that had held it in
place all day and carefully eased it out of his pet's ass.  His pet screamed his
relief.

After checking that his pet's anal canal hadn't been damaged, Skinner generously
lubed his gloved hand and, tucking his thumb into his palm, fitted his fingers
into his pet's open hole.

The dildo had done its job well.  Apart from a slight twisting movement
necessary for entry, his closed fingers went in smoothly.  He took his time
fitting in his palm which stretched out even more the already stretched muscle. 
Then, with just a bit more effort, he pushed in past his wrist.

He gave his gasping pet the time he needed to get used to the feel of his hand
within his body before he pushed in further. Then, carefully, he made a fist
deep in the heat of his pet's body, rotated it, making certain that he put
pressure on his pet's prostate so that sounds of unexpected pleasure mixed with
those of his discomfort.

That first time, thought Skinner, as he waited while his pet adjusted to the
pressure of his Master's fist against his anal walls, he had felt a certain
vindication at his pet's pain.  This time, his hand deep in his pet's body,
watching him cope with that, Skinner was overwhelmed with the feeling of
ownership he had over this, his pet's body.  That this body was his to do with
as he pleased.  As he desired.  That his pet was finally beginning not only to
accept his right of possession, but to submit to it.

He looked down at the place where his arm was joined to his pet's body and felt
immense satisfaction.  His untouched cock was throbbing, rock hard at the mere
sight.  At his Mastery.

Jesus, yes!  This was the way it was meant to be!

Enthraled by this realization, Skinner reached over and released the cock ring
his pet wore, bent and took him into his mouth.

The arm in his body kept Krycek from pumping his hips into the wet heat of his
Master's mouth.  Not that it mattered.  His Master concentrated his efforts on
the cock in his mouth, taunting his Pet, bringing him to the border of sanity
and frustration, all the while his arm and hand slowly made their way out of his
body.

When Skinner had his wrist resting on the open muscle of his pet's anus, he
sucked hard, sending his pet hard over the edge from the combination of pain and
pleasure.  Then, with one quick gesture, he pulled his hand out.  He looked up
in time to see his pet's eyes roll back in his head at the force of his orgasm.

The sight was enough to send him over the edge.  With a loud shout, Skinner
came.

By the time his pet regained his senses, Skinner had cleaned him off but left
him tied as he was.  He rested his weight carefully on his elbows and arms to
either side of his pet's chest, his hips rubbing against his pet's groin.  With
his mouth, he played with his pet's ear, whispering into it until his pet began
answering him.  Then he started over again.

"Who is your Master, Pet?"  He gave a lick to the inside whorl of his pet's ear.

"You are, Master."  His pet's tired whisper was rough, as though his throat was
now protesting all the screaming it had done tonight.

"Who trains you, Pet?"  He kissed his pet's throat, sucking slightly on the
adam's apple.

"You do, Master."

"Who punishes you, Pet?"  He nipped the side of his jaw.

His pet's eyes opened with difficulty.  Skinner was pleased to see fear mingled
with the satiation.  "You do, Master."

"Who rewards you, Pet?"  He licked the small mark away.

"You do, Master."

"Who brings you pleasure, Pet?"  He looked into his pet's eyes.

"You do, Master."  His pet's sated tone confirmed it.

Skinner raised himself up onto his hands, removing his weight from his pet's
chest, still holding onto his eyes.

"Why can I do all this, Pet?  The training, the punishment, the rewards, the
pleasure."

Krycek said nothing for a good minute, eyes holding his master's, who patiently
waited.  When he spoke, with subdued acceptance, Skinner knew that they had
moved on, one more step.

"Because you own me, Master.  Because I belong to you."


Chapter 8:  In Which Evil Enters the Picture


The next day, Skinner was aware that his pet's eyes followed him everywhere they
could.  Not with fear, still not with the trust he found he wanted to see in
them.  But almost with fascination.

He was kind to his pet.

He knew that, though his anus had shrunk back to the norm, that the muscles had
been stretched and that his pet would be particularly tender for some time.

But that didn't mean that there was to be no training, just that he had to take
his pet's condition into account.

And there was a football game that he wanted to watch.

His pet spent the morning with him in the office, providing him with distraction
whenever he looked up from yet another of those damn reports.  This time, he had
had his pet climb up onto the cleared desk, lay on his back so that his nipples,
his genitals were right at hand.

Once he watched as a wave of goosebumps seemed to cover his pet's naked flesh.

"Cold, Pet?"

"N...no, Master."

But Skinner noted the trembling and smiled to himself.

"Master?"  Skinner was attracted by the uncertainty in his pet's voice. 
"Please.  I...think I'm going to come."

Skinner looked up.  His pet wore an expression of controlled arousal that made
him want to drive it over the edge.  However, Skinner shrugged slightly, if he
gave in, there was a good chance that the reports stacked by his pet's body
might end up smelling of come.

Wouldn't do.

He pinched the glans tightly, making his pet gasp, and reluctantly moved his
hand away until his pet cooled down enough for him to begin again.  He supposed
he could ring his pet's cock, but he rather liked hearing his pet's voice
timorously informing him of an impending orgasm.

By lunchtime, he found he was as hard as his pet.  Ignoring the erection that
was burning a hole in his sweat pants and the oblique looks his pet was giving
the bulge, he went to the kitchen to see about getting something to eat.

His pet dutifully preceded him, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach,
ringed balls swinging against his parted thighs, as he shuffled into the
kitchen.  Skinner wanted to concentrate on what to prepare for lunch.  Instead
his eyes kept straying to the swollen, purplish cock head and the look of
controlled suffering on his kneeling pet's face.

He paused by a high-backed wooden chair and grasped his pet's chin, tipping his
face upward.  As always, the eyes were a giveaway.  No matter how his pet
struggled to control his features, his feelings always showed with crystal
clarity in his eyes.  There in the still, green gaze he could read his pet's
smouldering hunger.  Answering his own.

Beckoning.

It would be entirely unreasonable to deny himself this pleasure, when it was
clearly what his pet wanted.  What *he* wanted.

A motion of his hand indicated where he wanted his pet positioned, shoulders
braced against the seat of the chair, buttocks thrust out, assorted weights
swinging freely from nipple and scrotum.

Skinner ran his hands down his pet's back.  The skin was still slightly moist,
the sheen of sweat he'd worked up earlier, still not quite dry.  Trailing
fingertips down the cobbled trail of vertebra and into the crease between the
firm globes of his pet's ass, he took hold of the base of the slender plug
buried there and gave it a forceful half-twist.

The gasp and throaty moan that followed were quite rewarding.  It took only a
moment to kneel, to push his sweat pants down his thighs and release the greedy,
blunt truncheon of his cock to rub against the luscious cheeks.

The power of his movements pushed them both forward, the legs of the chair
grating along the tile of the floor.  Groaning, effortful, he thrust against the
slick, sweat dampened flesh over and over again.  His pet answered his groans
with soft whimpers of frustration, hips circling and pushing backward in
response.

It took little time before his long denied climax overwhelmed him.  In the
fraction of a second before the rush of orgasm erupted from his tightened balls,
Skinner pulled away from the shuddering body of his pet.  He watched, fascinated
as the pulsing stream of semen settled in glistening loops on his pet's back.

Scooping his come onto one broad palm, Skinner settled his chest against the
trembling back again, bringing his hand up to his pet's panting mouth.

"Clean it off, Pet."  The instant response was gratifying, his spent cock
pulsing with aftershocks as the pink tongue greedily licked the surface of his
hand.

It was impossible to ignore the condition he'd left his pet in. The quivering
making itself felt through his chest continued, even after his palm had been
wiped clean.  Leaning over his pet's shoulder and bending his head to the side,
Skinner studied the gasping mouth and tightly closed eyes, as his pet struggled
to regain some composure.  The most damning evidence of all was the drops of
moisture falling in a steady dribble from the deep red glans of his pet's cock,
unbelievably even more swollen than it had been while he'd played with it
earlier.

Curious, he stroked a finger down the length of it, tracing a blueish vein that
strained the skin.  A gasp answered his touch.

"Master!"  Poor pet, his voice was even more hoarse, more anxious than usual. 
"Please, Master.  I'm going to come."

His hand teasingly stroked a trembling thigh.

His pet flinched.  "Master?" he whimpered, almost in tears. "Please, Master. 
I'll come..."

Skinner chuckled.  His pet was desperate, straining to hold on. Skinner knew
that Krycek was worried about punishment for coming without permission.  While
it would be enjoyable to deny him, Skinner was feeling generous and pleasantly
relaxed.  He pulled his pet up against him.  Pushing the long hair away from his
pet's ear, he whispered into it softly, "Come for me, Pet.  Let me see you
come."  Then he reached out with his tongue and traced the inner curve of his
ear.

One hand slipped down to pull on his pet's cock, the other descended to lightly
hold his pet's aching balls as, to the accompaniment of an intense scream, they
spasmed in explosion. In a truly impressive display, they shot with such force
the stream arched over the seat of the chair, landing on the floor.

Of course, Skinner had him clean up the floor where it had landed, licking the
tiles shiny clean before feeding him.  Had him clean off the chair too, where
splashes of his precome decorated the seat.

That afternoon, he set up several snacks by the couch, made himself comfortable
after confining his pet on his back on the couch.  Skinner sat, with his pet's
ass propped up on his lap, his pet's feet resting on the armrest.

"Do you like football, Pet?"  His pet hesitated in answering. Skinner smiled
down at him.  "It's a question without repercussions, Pet."

"No, Master, not really."

"Is it just football you don't like or does this opinion of yours cover all
sports?"  Skinner lightly stroked the inside of a thigh while he waited for his
pet to drum up his courage to answer.

"Most sports, Master."

Skinner raised the warmth in his smile up a notch or two.  "Are there any you
like at all?"  He kept his tone casual, not wanting to frighten his pet.  He was
surprised to find himself truly interested in his pet's answer.

"Y..yes, Master."

Skinner waited for his pet to continue.

"Hockey, Master, and soccer."

Skinner nodded.  "Hockey season's been pretty boring so far.  As for soccer,
you'll have to instruct me on the finesse of that sport.  In return, I'll
explain the intricacies of football to you, shall I?"

Obviously stunned, his pet managed, "Thank you, Master."

And then, eyes on the game, Skinner absent-mindedly played with his pet's body,
concentrating on his genitals, as he explained the action taking place on the
screen.  "Remember," he suddenly interjected during a commercial, "warn me when
you're about to come."

Which his pet obediently did.

Only this time, Skinner allowed him to come.  He wiped up the creamy substance
from his pet's body, had him lick his hand clean.  And then brought him to
orgasm again during the second half.  This time, the clean-up took longer as his
pet was definitely drowsy.

Skinner smiled as he watched a pink tongue slowly lick the come off his palm, as
sleepy green eyes fought to stay open.

Finally, he took pity on his pet and, moving up so that his pet's head rested
against his thighs, allowed him to drift off into sleep.

During replays of replays, Skinner found himself examining the face that now lay
snuggled on his lap.  He gently smoothed some of the hair off it, skimmed
caresses over the fine-boned features.

And refused to examine the emotions rising up in him.

***

Those emotions died during the days that followed.

Not his pet's fault.

After a week in which he and his people thought they had finally made headway,
that their work was finally going to be acknowledged, that their recommendations
were going to be seriously considered, consensus on the Upper Floor underwent
yet another swing.  Events at Headquarters were developing a surreal aspect.

Men who had been responsible for reprehensible actions were either found dead of
unknown causes in their cells or were offering to make the most incredible deals
to save their necks.

The first irritated Skinner.  He hated the sloppiness that was responsible for
the deaths even being able to occur.

The second made him livid.  Especially when it became obvious that certain
members of the Consortium, and their once highly- placed cohorts, had enough
pull to work out very comfortable arrangements within the penal system:  colour
television with cable access, cell-phoned flunkies at hand, catered meals.

And one or two had powerful enough connections to be dealing only with the top
representatives of the Justice Department, the FBI, the CIA, reminding them of
the precautions they had taken to assure their own security, no matter which
side won.

And, once more, Skinner and his team were deemed responsible for all the turmoil
that now dominated so many institutions, institutions that were not used to
having their dirty linen exposed to the public, that were pulling all strings
possible to ensure that it wouldn't be.

Not only was Skinner once again having to defend his people and the decisions
they had taken, but he was faced more and more with the knowledge that if they
could get away with it, those who had tried to sell his country into slavery
would walk away scot-free with the approval of his government's power brokers. 
Meanwhile, he and his people were facing the reality of letters of censure in
their personnel files, of other disciplinary actions.

He brought his resentment, his bitterness, his frustrations, his rage home with
him, and his pet no longer wondered how his evenings were going to be:  he knew
they would be hard.

Skinner realized that any groundwork he had established between his pet and
himself over the last weeks was gone, but he couldn't help himself.  His
reactions to the proceedings, to the back-room deals overwhelmed him.  His pet
watched him come through the door of his room, eyes braced for whatever pain he
would endure at Skinner's hands.

He didn't even offer token protests, nor begged:  Skinner was now very vocal
during the time spent with his pet as to the situation he was battling every
day.  And of his Master's opinion that if Krycek had gotten that information to
them earlier, things might have been different.

Skinner marked his pet again, breaking the skin on five of the nine strokes. 
The shocking butt plug had another workout. Another night, Skinner came home
almost irrational and his pet's ass and back bore the crisscrossed welts of his
belt.  He left him in position for the nights as well as the days.  Skinner had
returned to the early days of his pet's training and knew that his pet had gone
back there as well.

The night he came home late to find his pet sleeping in position, crying in his
sleep, he knew that he had gone too far.  If he didn't get himself under
control, he was going to kill his pet.

He reached over to wake his pet, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

"No, please, Spender!  Please!  I beg you!  Let me out!  Oh, god! Please, I
can't breathe!  Don't bury me alive, please, I'll do what you want.  I swear. 
Don't leave me here to die!  I'll do anything!  Spen...der!!"

Stunned, Skinner jerked his hand back, letting his shuddering pet slip back into
his nightmare.

Unable to deal right then and there with what his pet had revealed, Skinner put
his feelings on hold, left the room, went into his bedroom, showered until the
water ran cold.  He prepared a light meal, brought it up to his pet who was now
awake, waiting for him in terror and resignation.

Skinner released his pet, massaged cramped muscles that reacted slowly to his
ministrations.  With a warm wash cloth, he cleaned his pet's face.  When the
trembling started, he took him in his arms, held him until the tremors eased.

He wanted to apologize to his pet, but couldn't bring himself to say the words. 
He had used them too often at work, pointlessly hoping that they would ease the
pressure and the blame on his department.  He hoped his actions would be enough.

He helped his pet into the bathroom, cleaned him, put ointment on the cuts and
bruises that littered his pet's body.  He fed him, all the while caressing him
as if his touch might transmit his own feelings to his pet.  Then he brought him
over to his mat, settled him for the night.

As a last means of apology, he removed the spreader for the night, not bothering
to fetter his pet's ankles.

He was at the door when he heard a timid, "Master?"

Skinner stilled in the doorway.  He didn't want to respond.  The voice had been
so faint he could pretend he hadn't heard it.

"Yes, Pet."

"Th...Thank you, Master."

Skinner wondered what his pet was actually thanking him for.  For not punishing
him tonight or for the mat?

"Go to sleep, Pet."   And he closed the door behind him.

***

It was unfortunate that the telephone woke him the next morning, with news that
made him see red.

He tried to contain his reaction, thought he had managed it well until he went
into his pet's room for the morning rituals and found him asleep, on his back,
legs together.

His pet's screams filled the apartment as Skinner grabbed him by the balls and
dragged him off his mat.

When his pet finally choked, his screams fading for the lack of breath, Skinner
snapped, "I told you right at the beginning, Pet, that I was never to find your
knees together.  That your genitals were to be open to me at all times.  Is this
how you thank my leniency?  By ignoring my wishes?  When I'm through punishing
you, you will remember.  Believe me, Pet, you will remember."

When he closed the door behind him to go to Headquarters, his pet was in
position.  Some of the heavier weights hung from both sets of nipple rings.  His
cock was tightly chained to the navel ring. More weights hung from his balls. 
The spreader was back in place.  The largest of the cock gags kept his mouth
painfully open.  His hand was tightly manacled to the waist belt.  He wore one
of the larger dildos in his ass, with orders to keep it there until his Master
removed it himself.

And he was hooded.

***

It was late when Skinner opened the door to his apartment.  He was exhausted
from dealing with the fallout of the Director's participation in the deal that
had set four of the top remaining members of the Consortium free.

Once more, his department was being used as a scapegoat.  After hours of protest
on his part, of being mocked, chastised, ignored, he felt empty.

And he knew that he had overreacted in the morning to his pet's disobedience. 
That he would have to deal with that, too.

Then the entry lights came on, seemingly by themselves.

"Do come in, Assistant Director Skinner."

Skinner froze in the process of removing his keys from the front door.  He had
been too tired to smell it before, but now the stench of cigarette smoke seemed
to envelop him.

He forced his expression to remain neutral though he couldn't do anything about
the way his stomach bucked.  Hiding his shock, Skinner entered, tossed his keys
into the bowl as he did every night.  Placed his briefcase on the floor by the
table and turned to face the man he had fought so hard to keep imprisoned.

Spender sat, at the bottom of the steps, in an armchair that had been taken from
the living room.  Two men, weapons pointed at Skinner, stood to either side of
the chair.  At Spender's feet, in position, was Krycek.  Hoodless, face to the
floor.

"Look up, Alex.  Your *master* is home."

Krycek didn't move at first.  Spender nudged him with a foot. Krycek raised his
head.

Skinner saw that he was still gagged.  Still decorated.

Spender tossed something in his hand and Skinner realized that it was the dildo
that he had left in his pet's ass.

"Imagine my surprise when I came here to surprise you, Assistant Director, to
find that you had something that belongs to me."

Krycek let his head drop to the floor.

Spender nudged him again.  "Face up, Alex.  I want you to watch." He smiled at
Skinner as Krycek obeyed.  "He listens well, don't you find?"

Skinner ignored the comment as well as the eyes staring up at him, blanked of
all emotion.

"He belongs to me."  Skinner spoke as though he didn't expect to be challenged.

Spender smiled through the smoke curling up from his cigarette. "Ah, but that, I
think, is debateable.

"You see, Skinner, I came here expecting to have to beat out of you the
whereabouts of the man who betrayed us, only to find him, trussed up like a
Christmas turkey, just waiting for me.  And in the most interesting of rooms.

"All this time, I thought my little Alex was sitting somewhere on a beach,
enjoying the sunshine, living off his ill-gotten gains. Or dead.  Personally, I
was hoping for the former, just so I could watch him die.  Instead, it seems
that Alex has entered a new scene and I am amazed to find that you, Assistant
Director Skinner, are the one who is claiming ownership of him.

"Rather ironic when I think of all the expense and trouble we went to, to find a
way of controlling you and, all the time, there it was, under our very noses. 
You should have said something, Skinner.  I can assure you, we would certainly
have accommodated your little kink."  His foot nudged Krycek again as he grinned
his gargoyle smile.

Skinner said nothing, merely watched the smoking man for any gesture that would
have him going for his gun.  Even if Spender's thugs thought he was a sitting
duck, Spender himself should be smart enough to know that he wasn't going to go
down without trying to take at least one of them with him.

Spender exhaled a long plume of smoke.  "You know, Assistant Director, it seems
to me that we do have a little problem here."

Skinner raised an eyebrow.  "A *little* one?" he mocked.  He was pleased with
the cool tone of his voice.  That days of dealing with Upper-Echelon-types had
had some positive effect.

"Yes.  You see, you were later than expected getting here and I do have to be
elsewhere in a matter of...well, shall we say minutes?  Now then, you say that
Alex here belongs to you but I too have a claim on him."   Spender checked his
watch.  "I think we just have enough time to resolve ownership."

Skinner stated bluntly, "He belongs to me."

"Well," Spender handed his cigarette butt to one of his lackeys who put it out
against the wall, pulled out a pack from his jacket pocket and lit another
cigarette, "I suppose you're working on the principle:  finders keepers?"  He
smiled. "There's an easier resolution to this matter.  One which I will stand by
if you also agree to it."

"Which is?"

Spender looked at the tip of his cigarette.  "We let Alex choose who owns him. 
Like they do in those kiddie movies.  You know the ones I mean.  Where the lost
dog gets to choose between Timmy or Jimmy."

"And how do we do that?"

Spender smiled again.  Skinner felt a frisson of something he really didn't
understand:  there was more to this than met the eye -- after all, this *was*
Spender he was dealing with -- but what?

"Why, the way they do it in the movies.  We each get to call him to us.  If he
goes to you, he belongs to you.  If he stays here, then he's mine by default."

Skinner wanted to ask why not just ungag Krycek and ask him, but something about
the guns aimed at him, the barely controlled smirks on the faces of the thugs
made him give a slight nod in agreement.

"Good.  Alex.  You know what you have to do.  And since I am on a schedule, you
have only until I have finished this cigarette to decide which of us you choose
to be your master."

Krycek dropped his face to the floor.  Skinner felt the tension in the room
rise, not knowing why, knowing only that there was something he wasn't getting.

As Krycek slowly inched his way across the entry floor, Spender watched as
though anticipating something which, once more, Skinner could not divine.

Skinner had to admit that he felt a deep sense of satisfaction when Krycek moved
the extra bit that brought him close, when he then rested his face on Skinner's
shoe.  He wasn't all that successful in keeping his desire to gloat off his face
when he looked up at Spender.  One small victory in a sea of loses, of
humiliations.

"Well," Spender filled the air with another plume as he lit a new cigarette,
"that seems to be that.  Gentlemen, it's time for us to go.  We seem to be 'de
trop' for this sentimental moment."

And with that, Spender, followed by his men, left.

Except that on the way out, the last of them turned, looked at Krycek then
Skinner and snickered before closing the door.

Skinner quickly locked the door behind him.  Went into the kitchen, came back
with a chair that he jammed firmly under the knob.

Only then did he take a deep breath and release it noisily.

Only then did he notice that, although he was trembling, his pet hadn't moved.

Skinner crouched by his pet, raised his face.  His pet resisted past a certain
level.  Damn, thought Skinner, he was too tired for this.  But remembering his
own unease at the situation, as well as how he had treated his pet that morning,
he didn't insist.  He reached and removed the gag, massaging his pet's jaw so
that he could close his mouth.

"Pet," he kept his voice calm, "what am I missing?  Why did they leave so
easily?"

Krycek's voice was so dry that he barely got the words out. "Because I'm dead."

Skinner stilled his hand on his pet's face.  "How are you dead?"

Krycek rested his forehead against his Master's hand, actually managed a
travesty of a laugh.  "They took the dildo out and slipped a plam into me."

Skinner lay a hand on his pet's head, gently caressed it.  "I don't understand. 
What exactly is a plam, Pet?"

"It's a cylindrical tube that hides a quick release blade.  The only way to kill
a morph is to insert it in the back of its neck."

Skinner closed his eyes but not his imagination.  "How much pressure does it
need to release?"

"Not much.  Just some to the base."

"And they put that in your ass."

"They pulled out the dildo and dropped it in while my ass was still open."

"How long is the blade?"

"About six inches."

"Sharp?"

"It's a spike.  Like an ice pick."

"I take it a cock banging against the base would release the blade?"

"Yes."

"And moving as you did, coming up to me, that too could release it?"

"It could have."  He made a noise that might have been a sob. "I'm sure Spender
was disappointed it didn't."

Skinner said nothing, just continued stroking his pet's head.

"Pet, why did you choose me?"

Krycek made a small sound.  "Because I hoped," he spoke slowly, in a voice
totally devoid of hope, "that you might find it in yourself to make it an easier
death.  Master."

Skinner looked down at his pet.  "You've seen someone die this way."

Krycek whispered, "Yes, Master."

Skinner was silent for some time.  His hands kept on stroking the head and
shoulder of the man waiting for death to strike him.

"Pet.  This base that has to be activated.  How thick is it?"

Krycek seemed to be far away.  Skinner had to repeat his question.  "The base?" 
His voice was groggy.  "About a quarter of an inch."

"And the sheath?  How long is it?"

Krycek forced himself to think.  "About seven inches in all, Master."

Skinner bent and placed a kiss on the back of his pet's head. "Pet.  I want you
to hold very still.  Not to move.  Can you do that?  Go into yourself, the way
you do in submission, and remember that I want you to hold still?  Not to move,
no matter how I touch you?  Can you do that, Pet?"

"Not move, Master?"

"Yes, Pet.  Completely still.  For me.  Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good.  Close your eyes and find that safe place in yourself.  Do you need me to
blindfold you?"

"No, Master."

"Good.  I'm going to leave you alone while I get a few things. Remember, Pet,
you're not to move."

Skinner waited until his pet's breath calmed, until he knew that his pet would
obey his wishes.

Then he went and collected the items he needed.

He moved a couple of the floor lamps into the entry, brought in the short foot
stool from the kitchen, a remnant of his married days.  Then he went upstairs,
came back with a variety of items which he set up on the seat of another of the
kitchen chairs.

Skinner looked around.  This was as good as it was going to get. He held out his
hands in front of him, approved of their steadiness.  He was always calm just
before the battle.  And this was a battle.  A battle for his pet's life.

He sat on the stool, dragging it so that he was between his pet's feet, his ass
at hand.  He checked his supplies once more, not certain they would do the job,
but they were the best he had. Finally, before he began, he removed his weapon
from his belt, took it out of its holster.  Without thinking about what it
represented, he attached a silencer to the barrel, placed the gun close by on
the floor, at hand if needed.

The speculum he used was a short stubby one, designed to open just the anal
muscle.  Which he did, widely, holding his breath all the while.  By the light
of a flashlight, he found the small reflection of something wet and silvered.

Skinner put his emotions on hold:  they would be dealt with later.  Now he
focused his attention on that small silver disc.

The rubber-tip forceps that came apart were a new toy.    He separated the
blades, lubed them and carefully, not daring to think, inserted the first one
in, millimetre by millimetre, pressing against the wall of the anal canal,
thankful that he had remembered, even in his anger, to lube the dildo generously
that morning.

Eventually he had the blade placed so that the tip was beyond the base, resting
further up the tube.

He repeated the procedure with the second blade.

Then, carefully, he took one of the handles in each hand, exerted pressure
against the tube and slowly, barely breathing, pulled the tube out.

He held his breath those last two inches, passing the speculum mouth.

The cylinder was as his pet had said, a little longer than six inches in length.
 He passed his thumb along the base, putting very little pressure on it.  The
blade sprang out.

Skinner looked at it, feeling an incredible anger rise in him. Cold, rather than
hot.  The blade would have penetrated his pet's intestinal wall, lacerating
anything in its reach.  If he didn't bleed to death, infection from the
intestinal tract would have assured a slow death.  Not that it would have
mattered: any kind of movement would guarantee additional cutting, the blade was
that sharp.

And his pet had come to him, knowing full well what could have happened at any
movement.

He left his stool, crouched by his pet's head.  "Pet.  I want you to come back
now.  To me.  Pet."

He stroked his pet's head, a little roughly, trying to get his attention. 
Letting go of some of the fear he had ignored these past minutes.

"Pet!  Come back to me.  Now!"

Krycek began responding to the tone.  He was slow to come out of submission.  He
did so to Skinner's hand caressing his face.

"Look at me, Pet.  Let me see your eyes.  Come on, Pet.  Do you see this?"  He
held the stiletto in his hand, showing it to his pet who, though his eyes were
open, wasn't seeing.

Skinner made his voice strict.  "Alex!  Pay attention!  *Look* at me!"

And he did.

He looked at his Master as though not understanding anything. Skinner found
himself wondering if he had won this battle only to lose his pet to insanity.

He softened his voice.  "It's out, Alex.  See.  Out.  It's not going to cut you.
 You're not going to die.  See, Pet.  See."

Krycek's eyes turned to focus on what Skinner held in his hand. He looked up,
eyes questioning.  Skinner smiled at him, a silly, stupid smile of victory. 
"Out, Alex.  It's out."

Krycek rested his forehead on the floor.  For a moment, Skinner thought he was
refusing to believe him.  Then the sob broke out and Skinner watched as his
pet's body shook from the tension it had been under, the fear.

Without thinking, he pulled his pet into his arms and held him tight, rocking
him as his pet sobbed his relief.

For however long it took, Skinner held the trembling head to his shoulder,
passed his cheek along the top of it, crooning nonsense.  "Hush, it's over. 
It's over."

His pet's body lay, finally silent, slackly against his.  Skinner continued
holding him, his hands now rubbing some warmth into the cold flesh.

At length, Skinner pulled back, examining the tear-ravaged face. "I want you to
go upstairs, Pet.  Wait for me by your door.  Do you understand me?"

Krycek nodded.  He turned to do as he had been ordered when he saw the silenced
weapon on the floor.  He looked up into his Master's face, stunned.  Before he
could say anything, Skinner leaned over and pressed his mouth against his pet's
pulsing temple.  "Go up and wait for me."

Skinner waited until he knew that, though he was wobbly, his pet would make it
up, then he cleaned up the entry.

He was in the kitchen when reaction hit him.  His body refused to respond to his
commands and he slipped to the floor.  Skinner drew his knees up to his chest
and concentrated on controlling his own shudders.

Krycek was waiting for him at the door to his room, in position, when Skinner
made it up the stairs.  Krycek was in a state that Skinner knew bordered on
shock.

Skinner opened the door to his bedroom.  "Pet."  He waited until he had Krycek's
attention.  "In here, tonight, Pet."

Slowly, not knowing what would come, Krycek made his way into Skinner's bedroom.

"Shower first, I think, Pet."

Skinner looked down through the rain of water to his pet who was in position on
the shower floor.  He stooped and soaped off the smell of those who had touched
him, his fear, his weeping.  Just as gently he dried him, led him to the
oversized bed Skinner slept in.

"Up."

Too over-tired even to confirm the order, Krycek managed to move his body onto
the bed.

Skinner left his hand manacled to his belt but used one of his ties to attach
his collar to the foot of the bed.  "You'll sleep here tonight, Pet."

Krycek closed his eyes.

Skinner lay in bed, semi-propped so he could keep an eye on the twitchings of
his pet.

And planned.


Chapter 9:  In Which Revenge Proves To Be a Dish Best Served Cold


The whimpering woke him up.

Skinner looked at the bottom of his bed, found his pet curled into as small a
ball as he could make himself, body trembling as he worked his way through some
nightmare.

Skinner made his way to the man begging "Please!  Don't hurt me!" Please!  Don't
touch me like that!"

Writhing, trying to get away from hands, painful hands, touching him.

Skinner wondered whose they were?

Spender's?

Or his own?

He released his pet's collar, dragged him back up to beside him and tried to
call him out of the nightmare.  He held him close, stroking the head resting
against his shoulder.  It took time, even after his pet grew aware of his
surroundings, to calm him but apart from soothing nonsensical sounds, Skinner
said nothing.

He thought his pet had fallen back asleep when he spoke again, voice raw. 
"They'll be back."

Skinner caressed the back of his pet's head.  "I'm counting on it."

Krycek looked up at him, unbelieving.  "You're going to give me to them," he
gasped.  He shook his head back and forth. "You're...oh god!"  Panicking, he
tried to pull out of his Master's arms.

Skinner fought him for dominance.  His pet's fear gave him the adrenaline rush
needed to try and escape.  He thought he was fighting for his life.

Finally, Skinner dropped his full weight onto his pet's body, holding him down
on the bed, gripping his head between two large hands.  Krycek was almost
incoherent with fear.

"Stop it!  Now, Pet.  Or I'll be forced to punish you."

Krycek calmed enough to gasp, "You're going to give me to them to kill but
first...you're going to punish me?"  He screamed with a shrill laughter, out of
control.   Skinner heard his pet's struggle for sanity in his shrieks.

"That's enough!" he snapped.  "Who owns you, Pet?"  Then repeated, louder and
with more enunciation, "Who...owns...you? Pet!?  Who...Owns...You!"

The ritual caught his pet's attention.  "You do," he sobbed. "Master." Then,
suddenly, as though deflating, he quietened. "You own me.  You can do with me as
you please."

Skinner felt some discomfort at the despair in Krycek's voice. He continued. 
"Who trains you, Pet?"

"You do, Master."

"Who punishes you?  Pet?  Who punishes you?"

Krycek swallowed, gave in completely.  "You do, Master."  His voice was stripped
bare of any emotion.

Skinner dropped his forehead to his pet's.  "Who rewards you, Pet?"

Krycek opened his eyes.  They looked dead to Skinner.  "You do, Master."

"Who pleasures you, Pet?  Who makes you come?"

"You do, Master."

"And who is the only one who can touch you, Pet?"

Krycek wasn't expecting anything new in the ritual.  He looked confused. 
Skinner passed his mouth across Krycek's temple.  "Who is the only one who
touches you, Pet, no matter what the reason?"

"You, Master?"

"That's right, Pet.  Me.  And only me."  Skinner placed his elbows on the bed,
used them to support some of his weight. "Only I can touch you.  I own you.  By
my choice.  And, since tonight, fully by yours."  He smoothed a lock of hair off
his pet's face.  "I am angry, Pet.  Not at you," he hurried to add. "At them. 
They touched you and they do not have the right.  Only I have the right to touch
you.  Whichever way I want.  But only I.

"They need to be punished, Pet.  For touching you.  Because no one has the right
to touch you except me.  And, Pet, I will *never* allow anyone that right."

Krycek lay silent, absorbing.  A deep frown line appeared between his eyebrows
as he took in what his Master was saying.  "They need to be punished?"

Skinner nodded.

"And...you will...punish them?"

Again a nod.

"Because...because they...*touched* me?"

"Because they touched you."  He waited as his pet worked that out in his mind.

"Master," his pet offered, almost timidly, "no one...has ever been
punished...for touching me."

"That may be true, Pet," Skinner countered, "but you never before had me as a
Master.  Have you, Pet?"

His pet's eyes were intent as they examined his face.  Finally, something he saw
there allowed his pet to let go some of his tension.  "No, Master."

"So, Pet?  Will you help me punish them?"

Krycek bit his lip.  Eyes holding his Master's, he finally nodded.  "If that is
what my Master wishes."

Skinner smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  "It is." He raised himself
off his pet, was reaching to settle him next to him for the rest of the night
when, "Master?  You said you would punish me when you came home tonight."

Skinner sat up and looked at the man waiting for his decision. His gaze went
down to his pet's knees which were still separated by the spreader.  "The
purpose of punishment is so you will remember.  I think that, after today,
should I remove the spreader, you will have no trouble remembering to keep
yourself open to me."

Krycek closed his eyes, nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Don't do that, Pet.  I love your mouth.  It's suffered enough abuse today."

Skinner settled his pet by his side, covered him with the blanket and wrapped an
arm around him, holding him close.  He felt his pet snuggle, seeking the comfort
of his warmth.

"Pet?"

"Yes, Master."

"I owe you an apology."  He felt his pet still completely.

"Apology, Master?" whispered his pet.

"Yes.  I once told you that your mat was a place of safety.  That there would
never be training or punishment on it.  This morning I broke that promise.  I
began punishing you while you were still on your mat.  I apologize.  I know that
I also broke your trust this past week.  And I'm sorry for that as well."

There was a long silence during which Skinner thought his pet had fallen asleep.

"It was because of Spender."

"Yes.  Because no matter how hard we fought to take him out, we lost."

"He doesn't lose often, Master."  Krycek snuggled a little closer and slipped
into sleep.

***

The fear was still there in the morning, barely under control.

Skinner made his pet go through the morning rituals, hoping that the routine
would help him regain some sense of security. Because, before the morning was
over, he was going to have to test that feeling to its present limits, and
probably beyond.

He fed his pet in the kitchen after he'd called his office and informed his PA
that he was feeling ill, was going to make this a long weekend and sleep it off.
 He made some soft boiled eggs, buttered toast.  He cut the toast in strips,
dunked the ends into the hot yoke and fed them to his pet.

"Toast soldiers," whispered his pet, eyes still over-large in his pale face.

Skinner smiled.  "Comfort food.  When I was a kid, my grandmother always made me
this breakfast whenever I was ill."

He sent his pet upstairs as he quickly cleaned up.

At the door to his room, Krycek looked up, eyes afraid.  Skinner opened the
door, nodded him in.  This was going to be the first test of his pet's endurance
this morning.  He had no idea what had been done to his pet, said to him when he
had been found, trussed, as Spender had said, like a Christmas turkey.  They
would deal with that later, when his plans had been put into effect.

His next test was to put him into position.  But secured.  He watched his pet
fight the panic that rose in him as his Master chained his collar to the floor,
his ankles, the spreader.

"Pet, I want you to take a deep breath.  Now exhale.  Good.  Now listen to me. 
I have to go out for a while."

And braced himself against the terror he saw in his pet's face. He clamped a
hand over his pet's mouth and held it there, all the while stroking him with the
other, as though calming a terrified animal.  "Listen to me.  They won't come
during the day.  They won't.  Too many chances of being seen.  Besides, they're
going to be watching to see what I do.  I'll be back as quickly as I can, but I
have to go get some things for their punishment.  Can you handle that, Pet?  Can
you?"

He removed his hand from his pet's mouth, waited until his pet nodded.  "Yes,
Master."  But his voice trembled.

"And I want to make sure that you're not open to them, Pet."

Skinner went to get the butt plug he had prepared.  The plug was enclosed in a
chain harness that could be locked at both ends to the waist belt his pet was
wearing.  Skinner slipped the lubed plug into his pet's ass, snapped the locks
shut.

"Go into submission, Pet, if that's what you need.  I'll be back as soon as
possible."

He was gone just over an hour.  Returned to find his pet muttering to himself
under his breath.  Skinner approached him carefully, afraid to find that he had
saved his pet's life only to lose the fight for his mind.

Then Skinner heard what Krycek was muttering:  some multiplication table.  He
was trying to remember what thirteen times sixty-nine was when he suddenly
realised that he no longer was alone.

Skinner quickly sat next to him.  Stroked his head as he released him, gathered
him into his arms.  "You're doing well, Pet.  I'm so pleased with you."

Krycek rested his tear-streaked face against his Master's shoulder and wept
quietly.

***

For the rest of the day,  Krycek stayed either next to his Master or as close to
him as he could possibly get.  Skinner allowed it, knowing that his pet needed
the assurance of his presence to feel secure.  He hoped that after tonight, his
pet would never again doubt that.

He spent the afternoon grooming his pet, rubbing lotion into his body, treating
him to a massage, playing with him until his pet whispered, "Master, I think I'm
going to come."

"Not until I tell you, Pet."

The familiar game seemed to soothe his pet.  Besides, Skinner wanted him on the
edge of arousal for another reason.

As the light outside waned, his pet often glanced nervously at the apartment
door.

With reason.

***

The night sky was black, starless when the front door silently opened onto a
darkened apartment, allowing two shadows in.  The door silently closed behind
them.

"Are you looking for me?"

They turned to see Krycek on the landing of the stairwell, illuminated by the
faint light of an upstairs lamp, sitting back on his heels.

A small red dot appeared on the back of the head of one of the intruders.  As
his head shattered, another appeared on the face of the second.

Skinner stepped out of the shadows to scowl at the bodies that now littered his
entry.

He checked with his pet.  "Are you all right?"

Krycek nodded.  "They're dead.  You killed them," his voice barely above a
whisper.

"Yes," Skinner pulled out two of the old carpets he had purchased that morning
at the Salvation Army Thrift Store.

"Because...for touching me?"  Krycek's disbelief made Skinner nod reassuringly.

"They didn't have the right to touch you.  You're mine.  Only mine."

He efficiently rolled each of the bodies into one of the threadbare carpets,
wrapped each again in a sheet of thick plastic, hauled the entire mass over to
the large hand cart he had rented for the weekend.

"There," he said, as he straightened from loading the second carpet-wrapped body
onto the cart.

Skinner grimaced at the blood and matter splattered over the wall of the entry. 
Oh, well, the apartment was due for a paint job anyway.  He smiled up at his
pet.  "Two down, one to go."

Actually, Spender's arrival was almost anti-climatic.  He eased opened the door,
stepped in, fully expecting his men to be in control.  Skinner was waiting for
him behind the door.  A downward movement and Spender lay on the floor,
unconscious.

***

Skinner watched as Spender regained consciousness, slowly figured out the state
he was in.  He had to give the man credit:  if he was afraid, he hid it well. 
Or it could just be that, having had his way in everything lately, he couldn't
believe that he was the one now naked, gagged, trussed like a Christmas turkey,
ass high in the  air.  On the table that Skinner used for his pet, bound as his
pet had been when Spender and his thugs had entered the room.

With two exceptions. One was that his head was strapped down so that he had no
choice but to look in Skinner's direction.  The second, that instead of a dildo
up his ass, Skinner had inserted the longest speculum he had.

Skinner leaned forward in the chair he had brought into his pet's room,  stroked
his hands up and down his pet's body.  Krycek was kneeling between his legs,
head thrown back as Skinner carefully brought him once more to the edge of
orgasm.

"Beautiful, isn't he?"  Skinner smiled proudly at Spender.  "And he *is* mine." 
Skinner dropped a kiss on his pet's head, hand snaking down his abdomen to play
with the cock ring that denied his pet's orgasm.  "And only mine."

Skinner looked back into Spender's eyes, eyes that were beginning to panic. 
Skinner's smile was heartlessly cold.  "You touched him.  You tried to kill him.
 For the touching alone your men paid with their lives.

"That surprises you?  Really, Spender, considering what you did to me, how can
you be surprised at what you turned me into?  You played with my life, my mind. 
My spirit.  My honour.  I know you expected all that to make me roll over, offer
my belly to you. But, guess what, Spender?  If you hang around with bastards,
there's a good chance that you'll become one, too.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it?  For me to become like you. To side with
you.  To become a sorry son of a bitch like you. But here's something you didn't
count on...I never do anything half-way.  If I'm going to be an SOB, I'm going
to be one mother- fucking SOB.  Too bad you didn't consider that you might end
up being mother."

Skinner slowly got up, stepped over his pet to the table.  He crouched so that
Spender could see what he had in his hand.  "An interesting little toy." 
Skinner tossed the plam from hand to hand.  "Let's see what you can do with it."

He rose, went to play with the speculum, opening it the widest it would go. 
Spender's screams were almost completely muted by the ball gag.  With great care
Skinner allowed the plam to drop into Spender's ass, then he partially closed
the speculum and yanked it out, open as it was.  Spender's shriek made it past
the gag.

Skinner went back to crouch by Spender's face, noted with some satisfaction that
his eyes, tearing with the pain of the speculum's removal, were wild with
terror.  "I see you understand.  Fitting, isn't it, that what you had planned
for *my* pet is going to happen to you."

Eyes holding Spender's frantic ones, Skinner called, "Here, Pet." Then, "No,
back here, Pet."

Skinner stood behind his pet, reaching down, continuing to play with him until
he was so aroused Skinner was willing to bet his pet was aware of only the hands
on his body.  Until he was weeping for release.  "Yes, now it's time.  Up on
your feet, Pet."  And saw fear overcome the arousal.

"Ma..Master?"

"Up on your feet, Pet."

"But...Master, you said I was never...not ever unless I wanted...Please, Master,
you beat my feet the last time I.."

"Hush, Pet," Skinner held his distraught pet close to him, "this is an
exception.  I am giving you a specific command.  There will never be punishment
for following a specific command.  Now," he held his pet's shoulders, giving him
something to brace against as he found his feet.  He held him close, caressing
him until his pet was back to the point where the only thing that mattered was
release.  He rolled a condom over his pet's cock, then turned him around,
aligned his cock with Spender's ass, unsnapped the cock ring.

"In you go, Pet.  Come for me."

His pet's eyes opened, he hesitated.

Skinner placed himself right behind his pet, stroked his hands possessively down
to his hips.  His mouth worked its way from nape to the edge of his jaw.  "I
want to see your face as you come for me.  Please me, my pet."

As Krycek pumped his hips back and forth, Spender's screams of terror suddenly
became a long, continuous shriek of agony.

Skinner leaned over and kissed the side of his pet's jaw. "Beautiful," he
crooned.  "So very beautiful.  And mine, all mine."

And held his pet as he came.

***

Hours later, in the darkest part of the night, Skinner looked at his pet, curled
up at the bottom of his bed, sound asleep.  He covered him, dropped a kiss onto
the side of his head.  "I'll be back soon," he whispered.  Skinner smiled at the
sleepy sound his pet made.

In his pet's room, Skinner released and ungagged the man whom he didn't even
check to see if he were alive or dead.  Any movement now would cause the blade
open within him to inflict further damage.  Already the lower abdomen had
darkened with the accumulated blood as his last gesture, before leaving with his
sated pet, had been to plug Spender's ass with a stopper.

He rolled the still warm body in the last of the carpets -- coldly smiling at
the small, muffled gasp of pain -- then he rolled that in another sheet of
plastic, hoisted it over his shoulder.  Carefully, he made his way down the
stairs to the cart.

He used the freight elevator to the garage, loaded up his car with its cargo and
drove to an incinerator that he had once before had occasion to use.

***

His pet was waiting for him.  The chain Skinner had added to the bed was long
enough for him to kneel up.

"Master?  Are you all right?"

Skinner slouched, shoulder against the door frame, smiled, a bit tiredly.  "Yes,
thank you, Pet."

"He's dead?"

Skinner nodded.  "He'll never hurt anyone ever again."  Then he said aloud what
he had wondered about for some time.  "He hurt you.  And had you hurt."

His pet nodded.  "He bought me when I was a kid.  As a reward for his men when
they pleased him.  When I survived, he had me trained to kill though he still
turned me over to his men if I displeased him.  It...it didn't take much to
displease him."

"If he had known the game you were playing, if he had caught you..."

"He would have ordered me killed, slowly.  He liked to sit smoking while
watching his orders carried out."

Skinner nodded in turn.  The two of them looked at each other, bound by some
unseen link.

Skinner sighed, cocked his head.  "If I were a decent man, I would offer you
your freedom right now."

The notion seemed to horrify Krycek, not please him.  "Master? Please," he
dropped to his heel position on the bed, face in the bedclothes, "please,
Master.  You said you wouldn't punish me for standing on my feet!  That it was a
direct order and that I was to obey!"

Skinner shoved himself away from the door, hurried over to sit by the man whose
voice was edging toward hysteria.  He tried to pull him into his arms, only to
have Krycek bury his head in Skinner's lap, weeping desolately.

"Pet.  Pet.  Enough of that, Pet.  Stop crying, you'll make yourself ill."

Between sobs, his pet gasped, "You're turning me out.  Over to them.  Please,
Master, you said only you.  Only you had the right to touch me.  Please, don't
give me to them.  Please, Master.  I beg you.  Don't let them touch me!"

Skinner managed to grab hold of his pet's chin, forced his head up.  The
hopelessness in his pet's eyes reminded him too much of the night Spender had
made him choose between two Masters.

He let himself fall backwards, taking his pet with him, holding him close,
stroking his back with one hand as he held him with the other.  "Hush, Pet,
hush.  I said *if* I were a decent man. But I'm not.  You belong to me.  Inside
and out.  To train properly as a good pet.  To punish if need be.  To pleasure
as I see fit."

"I belong to you," begged his pet.

"You belong to me.  Only to me.  To do with as I please."

"You won't give me to them?"

Skinner rubbed his cheek against his pet's head.  "Never.  I protect what is
mine."

His pet's tears slowed, his breath gradually stopped hitching. "You...you'll
protect me, Master?"

Skinner raised his pet's face, slowly kissed the tears off the awed face.  "You
are mine.  To train, to punish, to reward.  To protect."

"Master?"  Timorously whispered.  "Will you always protect me?"

Skinner smiled his reassurance.  "Always, Pet."

***

They slept for a while.  Krycek woke to Skinner's hand gently playing with his
hair, fingers carding through the length.

"Pet, I know that I really haven't earned the right to ask this, but will you
trust me to do something?"

Krycek slowly sat up and back onto his heels.  "You own..." he stopped, silently
considered Skinner, then started over again. "I belong to you, Master," his
voice was quiet, but firm, in his commitment.  "You may do whatever it is you
want with me."

Skinner could only nod, moved by his pet's unconditional surrender of control.

"Will you come with me, accept whatever it is I ask of you?"

Krycek nodded.  "Yes, Master."

Skinner realized from the seriousness of the tone that his pet was reaffirming
his acceptance of his Master's role in his life from that moment on.

He got off the bed, kissed his pet's mouth.  "I'll be back in a few minutes."

But Krycek looked less certain when he entered his room.  Skinner knew that the
smell of antiseptic coming from the bathroom brought with it memories of a
previous occasion.

Still, his pet followed him into the bathroom.  Skinner helped him onto the
toilet so he could urinate and then moved him into the tub.  He chained the
collar, his hand, his feet to the restraints.  He removed the spreader, tossed
it to the floor.

Krycek lay there, eyes staring at the ceiling, trying hard to ignore the bag of
sterile solution that hung from the shower head.

"Try to relax, Pet.  I promise, this won't be like the last time."

Carefully, Skinner inserted the catheter into his pet's penis.

He monitored his pet's discomfort constantly as he injected the sterile water
down the tube into the anchoring balloon.  This time he used far less of the
water than he had that previous occasion.

When he released the clamp that allowed the water to flow into his pet's
bladder, Skinner placed a hand lightly on his lower abdomen, gauging the
procedure's progress.

His pet, he realized, hadn't made a sound.  He looked up to find him watching
his Master intently, lower lip caught under his upper teeth.  Normally, Skinner
would have chastised him for doing that.   This time, he reached over and
caressed the side of his face with his ungloved hand.

His pet hadn't questioned, hadn't protested.  For his acceptance alone he was
owed an explanation.

"I want to clean the touch of them off you, Pet.  To eliminate their
fingerprints off your skin.  To wipe their scent off you. To make you completely
clean for me.

"You belong to me, only to me.  Inside as well as outside.  No one else will
ever again touch you.  I want you to know only my hands on your skin, my body
within yours.

"I want us to start over again, Pet.  Clean slate.  You chose me to be your
Master.  And I will be that.  I will train you as you need to be, punish you if
need be.  I will reward you when you please me.  Only I will make you come. 
Because only I have the right to touch you."

He saw Krycek's total acceptance in his face.  "Only you, Master."

"Only me," he agreed.

Skinner felt the body he was touching lose some of its tension. He turned to
check the contents of the bag.  The last time he had ignored all the warnings
about quantity:  this time he would not.

His pet probably didn't trust him completely yet.  He would prove to him that he
could safely put his entire being in his hands and not be betrayed.

"Master?"

"Hmmm?"

"Master, when I no longer please you, will you then give me to someone else?"

Skinner carefully clamped off the flow of water and met his pet's apprehensive
look straight on.  "When you no longer please me? When the sight of you doesn't
give me pleasure?  When I no longer enjoy training you?  Rewarding you? 
Watching you come?"

"Yes, Master."  Krycek couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

Skinner cocked an eyebrow.  It didn't take much to understand that his pet had
far too much experience with being passed from one set of hands to another. 
Probably no matter what promises had been made to him.  For a moment, he wished
it had taken Spender longer to die.  He answered his pet's fear.  "Should that
day ever come, no, I will not give you to anyone else.  I've told you, Pet, no
one else will ever again touch you."

"Then, please, Master, what will you do with me?"

Skinner reached over with his hand and soothed the frown of concentration that
bridged his pet's eyebrows.  "Should that day ever come...Though, to be honest,
Pet, I truly doubt it...But should it, I will take you somewhere quiet and leave
you with a gun and a bullet."

Krycek frowned again.  "Master.  Will you wait and bury me?"

Skinner nodded.  "Yes, Pet.  I'll wait and bury you.  I promise."

His pet slowly relaxed against his Master's hands.  "Thank you, Master."

***

While Krycek voided the water that cleaned out his bladder, Skinner prepared an
enema for thorough cleansing.  Then, when that was over, knowing that his pet's
abdomen was tender from all that internal cleaning, Skinner turned on the
faucets and filled the bath with water.

He allowed his pet to enjoy a long, relaxing soak before he picked up a face
cloth and spent an incredible amount of time carefully washing every inch of his
pet's body.  And then a similar amount of time drying him off.

He finished off the bathing session by braiding his pet's hair, touching his
pet's body, reclaiming possession of it.

He spent some time deciding on his pet's decorations, finally choosing some
light weights for the smaller of his nipple rings, a gold chain linking the
larger.  He attached a short chain to the navel ring, the other end to the oval
on his penis, so that the underside of his cock was displayed.

He carefully removed the five rings that had lowered his pet's balls, so that
they now hung, slightly pendulous, and replaced them with a shorter
gold-coloured cylinder that was heavier than the five rings combined.

Lastly, he lubed and gently inserted into his pet's ass a butt plug that was an
inch shorter than the length of his cock when erect.  "This way, you'll always
be open for me."

Krycek looked up, eyes heavy with arousal from his Master's hands as they had
decorated him.

"Always, Master," he agreed.

Skinner was at the door, waiting for his pet to precede him out of the room when
his pet asked, "Master?"

Skinner turned.  "Yes, Pet."

Krycek was sitting on his heels, looking anxious.  "Master, you've forgotten..."

"Forgotten?  What have I forgotten, Pet?"

"You took off the fetters and the spreader to wash me, Master. You've forgotten
to put them back on."

Skinner nodded.  "Well, while it's true that they're not on, it's not because I
forgot.  However, I am pleased that you felt you should remind me of them.  I
told you, Pet.  We're starting anew. There is no reason right now to manacle
you.  As for the spreader, as I said, I think that lesson has been learnt.  Come
along, now.  No, Pet.  Not on your shoulders.  From now on, you'll assume that
position only if I tell you to heel.  Your hand is free, use it.  You don't have
permission to walk on your feet, Pet.  But you'll move more quickly if you
crawl.

"Come along, now."  And led the way to his room.

There, in his bathroom, he stripped, took a shower.  He came out to find that
his pet was waiting, not quite as he had left him. He was kneeling up, a towel
now in his hand.  Almost timidly, he offered it to his Master.

Skinner smiled, accepting that his pet was not as cowed as he might have been. 
It was a new beginning for both of them. "Thank you, Pet."

And then his pet took a rather daring chance, thought Skinner later.

As Skinner was rubbing the towel over his head, his pet moved between his legs
and began licking the water off his balls.

Skinner hesitated for a breath, then continued drying himself off, allowing
himself to evaluate the skill of his pet's mouth as it worked its way from his
balls to his very appreciative cock.

Skinner spread his legs, allowing his pet more room to work in. With shy
enthusiasm, eyes upraised, watchful of any disapproval, Krycek proved to his
Master that there would be very little training to do in a certain department.

Skinner dropped his hands to his pet's head, just holding, not directing any of
the action.  When he came, he came deep in his pet's throat, his pet swallowing
all but the come that dripped out of one side of his mouth.  As he softened,
Skinner pulled his hips back, watched with delight as his pet's tongue cleaned
him off then, cat-like, licked as much of his Master's come off his own face as
his tongue could reach.

"You've missed a bit, here," said Skinner as he stooped and licked a taste of
himself off his pet's chin.

Krycek leaned his head against his Master's stomach.  "This is permitted,
Master?"

Skinner laughed.  "A little late to be asking for permission now, Pet."  He
passed a teasing hand over his pet's face.  "Why did you do that, Pet?"

His pet looked up, eyes relaxed.  Skinner thought apart from when he was
aroused, he had never seen his pet's eyes so beautiful. "Because it gave you
pleasure, Master."

Skinner nodded.  "Yes, it did do that.  Now let's see how I can reward you."

On the bed, Skinner had his pet lay on his back.  He noticed that without
thinking his legs spread themselves wide, leaving him completely open to his
Master's touch.

And touch Skinner did.  His pet had endured much in these last days, had shown
his Master trust when he really had no grounds to do so.  As Skinner had said,
they were starting anew and he wanted to solidify his ownership of his pet
without his pet ruing his choice.

He began with soft words as his fingers played with his pet's face, his hair. 
Words telling him how beautiful he was.  How impressed he had been with his
pet's courage in the face of Spender and his men.  How, in spite of everything,
he had trusted his Master with his life.  How proud his Master was with having
him as his pet.  How his Master would protect his pet, train him properly,
punish him if need be.  And that was as it should be.

When he passed his finger along his pet's lips, Krycek opened his mouth, sucked
them in, treating them as he had his Master's cock.

"Oh, Pet.  You are a wonder of delight!"

Skinner enjoyed the effects his words and touch were having on his pet.  His
eyes grew darker, lids heavier.  His lips grew swollen, red from his Master's
kisses.  Skinner loved the sight of his pet, head thrown back, throat exposed,
body tendoned, arched in his attempts to hold back his orgasm.

And the sounds.  The small moans, the gasps as another part of his body grew
sensitive to the hands and fingers of his Master. Sounds which set his own body
to hardening, even though he had recently come.

Skinner lay on his side, head propped up on an elbow, playing with his pet's
decorations when it suddenly struck him that this was more than sex he was
engaging in.  Certainly something more than the couplings he had had with his
pet before now.

Maybe it was because he felt his pet's reactions were genuine. Were being
elicited because it was his hands, his mouth touching him.  That he fully
participated in his body's responses.

It was not love.  Not for either of them.  But, thought Skinner, maybe that
might yet come.

When Skinner removed the butt plug, slipped into his pet's body, his pet's hips
eagerly rose to welcome him.  Skinner had placed his pet's legs over his
shoulders, wanting to see the expression on his pet's face as he worked himself
into orgasm.

"Beautiful, Pet.  So beautiful."  And he took his pet's rampant cock into his
hand, matched stroke for stroke and grimaced with a sense of victory as his pet
screamed "Master!" as he came.

Revelling in his mastery of his pet, Skinner grabbed his pet's hips with both
hands and held them still as he rocked himself to completion to the mantra of
"Mine...Mine...Mine."

Chapter 10:  In Which a Master and His Pet Move On.


Skinner looked over at the man sitting next to him in the front seat of the car
and wondered if his pet was sulking.  He had been reluctant to leave the
apartment this morning -- his first venture out of the condo since Skinner had
claimed ownership of him -- and now sat very quiet in his seat, eyes focused on
the hand resting on his lap.

Skinner hoped, as he checked in the mirror and then moved into the outside lane
to pass a truck, that his pet did not intend to ruin the first long weekend of
the season with punishment.

He hadn't told his pet about this trip to his cabin until that morning.  Until
then, he hadn't been certain paperwork wouldn't demand that he spend the holiday
catching up.

Things had changed in many government institutions, including the Bureau.  Some
of the most vociferous attacks on his department had come from men who, it
turned out, had been trying to protect their own asses.  The new Director, while
not heaping accolades on them, had, at least, acknowledged their right in the
matter. All references to censure had been removed from Skinner's file and from
the files of his team.  Still, several of them had decided that they could no
longer trust their own people and had resigned, moving on to other things. 
Skinner knew it had been hoped that he would be one of these.

Unfortunately for them, he was too stubborn to quit.

This morning, after a quick analysis of what work absolutely needed doing,
concluding that almost all of it could wait until the next working day, Skinner
had brought his pet to the front door of the apartment.  There, he had removed
all his decorations, even the dog collar and the butt plug, and given him some
clothes to put on.  He had caught sight of his pet's stunned expression, his
white face, but was in a hurry to get out of the apartment before the phone rang
and he was called away to the office.  He would deal with his pet when they
arrived at the cabin.

But his pet had hesitated when ordered to get to his feet at the door, had
walked very reluctantly to the elevator, from there to the car.  Now he sat,
almost withdrawn, huddled into himself.

Skinner spared him a glance as he wondered what had happened to the pet who had
begun making advances to his Master, had occasionally softly protested not being
allowed to come, had found ways to make his Master forget that some behaviour
required punishment.

They were nearing the ramp that lead to the country road that took them to the
cabin when Skinner realized that his pet was silently weeping.

Once he could, he found a quiet spot and pulled the car over.  He turned off the
engine and twisted in his seat so that he could face his pet.  He rested his
shoulders against the door and examined the weeping man.

"Would you like to tell me why you're crying, Pet?"

His pet didn't answer, only seemed to shrink more into himself.

"Pet?"  Skinner used his about-to-lose-patience Master's voice.

His pet looked at his Master from under his hair.  It took a couple of attempts
before he whispered, pleading, "Please, Master, I'm sorry.  Please, whatever it
is I've done, punish me. Please, Master."

"Punish you?"  Skinner controlled the urge to snap.  He took a deep breath to
calm himself.  This wasn't usual behaviour from his pet.  Something was wrong
and he needed to find out what. "Apart from this behaviour, what have you done
that needs punishing?"

"I...I don't know."  His pet's breath coming in terrified gasps as he tried to
control it.  "Please, Master.  I will do better. Tell me what I've done to
displease you and I promise, I won't do it again.  Please, Master, give me
another chance."

Skinner didn't understand why his pet was begging this way. "Another chance to
do what?" he snapped.

His pet shook his head, still softly weeping.

"Pet!"  Skinner knew his patience was better these days, but it was nothing like
it had once been.  A far distance from that. And his pet was pushing it beyond
its present limits.

"Ma...Master, please, will...will you keep your promise? You...you promised you
would stay and...bury me."

Skinner leaned forward, barely hearing his pet, not understanding what he was
hearing.  "Bury you?"  He was thoroughly confused. What did going to the cabin
have to do with a burial?

His pet looked up, eyes red, barely able to contain their terror. "You promised
you would bury me.  That you wouldn't leave my body for the dogs, like he said
he would."

By now Skinner was beginning to clue in that, in his haste to leave, he hadn't
taken into consideration his responsibilities as his pet's Master.

"For the dogs?  Who said that, Pet?"  He kept his voice quiet, calm.

"Spender," whispered his pet.

Damn, thought Skinner, even dead that bastard was affecting their lives.

He reached over and released his pet's seat belt, pulled him over so that he
rested against his chest.  "Pet, I'm so sorry.  Listen to me, I am not unhappy
with you.  I am not taking you to a quiet place to give you a gun and a bullet."

He sighed, placed a kiss on his pet's forehead.  "We are going to my cabin.  By
a lake.  For the weekend.  A short holiday for the both of us.  That's all. 
Nothing more terrible than that, Pet."

He tightened his grip on the man in his arms.  "Alex.  Whatever made you think I
had had enough of you?"

His pet snuggled closer.  Skinner rarely used his name.  "You stripped me.  You
took my decorations away.  My collar."

"Oh, Pet.  I did that so if anything happened on the drive, if there was an
accident, we wouldn't have to answer questions.  I'm sorry, Pet.  I should have
explained."

"Please, don't do that again," dared his pet.

Skinner tilted up the tear-ravaged face.  "All right.  But if anything happens,
I'll refer all and any questions to you."  And he kissed his pet's mouth.

Even after the kiss ended, his pet wouldn't release his hold on his Master. 
Skinner thought, found a way that might reassure his pet.  He pushed back the
seat a notch, settled him on his lap, face against his groin.  "We're about
twenty minutes from the cabin," he used his most severe Master voice.  "You have
that long to get me hard...and to keep me hard, through my jeans.  And when we
get there, we will discuss the fact that you kept your worries and your thoughts
from me.  Need I remind you, Pet, that I own all of you, your thoughts as well
as your body."

There was a new pothole that Skinner avoided only at the last minute.  And a
curve that he slowed almost to a crawl to successfully negotiate.  By the time
the car came to a stop under the tree that served as carport, the fly of his
jeans was soaked with his pet's saliva and with the pre-come that his pet's
talented mouth had drawn out of him.

As the car engine ticked into coolness, Skinner allowed his pet to unbutton his
fly, take his throbbing cock into his mouth and expertly suck him into orgasm.

Still, his pet was obviously uneasy as they made their way to the steps leading
up to the deck and the windowed wall that overlooked the small mountain lake. 
Skinner stopped just before the first step.  His pet waited behind him.

"Take your clothes off, Pet.  Only between homes will you be allowed to wear
anything.  On home ground, you will always be open to my touch."

He watched as, with a sigh of relief, his pet quickly shed his clothes,
carefully folding them and placing them in his Master's hands.  Skinner stooped
and picked up the short boots that his pet had worn.

"Heel to the door and wait for me."

While his pet made his way up the wooden steps to the deck and the doors,
Skinner went back to the car and stashed his pet's clothing into a bag which he
left in the trunk.  He pulled out a medium sized locked case and another with
the things he had thought to bring for himself.

At the door, his pet waited in perfect position, hand behind his back, knees
wide apart, ass high, shoulders and face to the plank flooring of the deck.

"Stay here until I call you," and Skinner unlocked the doors, slid them open and
went in.

He made his pet wait a good hour as he went about opening windows, turning on
the hot water tank, seeing that the refrigerator was plugged in, ranging the
contents of his case in their proper places.  He took the time to rearrange the
contents of an armoire in the great room for those in the locked one, his pet's
adornments and toys.  He went out to the car and brought in the cardboard box
with the food, and put that away.  He even took the time to do some quick work
on one of the support posts in the great room.

Then, he called his pet to him.

Slowly, Krycek made his way to his Master.

"I am disappointed in you, Pet."

His pet whimpered, began raising his head, then, troubled, bottom lip caught by
his teeth, he lowered his head to the floor, waiting.

"You should have spoken to me about your worries.  You didn't. That saddens me,
Pet."  Skinner was pleased to see his pet flinch at the words.  "I thought you
trusted me enough to tell me when something bothered you.  And this was
particularly important, Pet.  You know that I will have to punish you."

He went to crouch behind his pet.  With a greased finger, he opened up his pet's
asshole, slipped in one of the bigger butt plugs he had brought with him, the
one that, because of its design, would grow more uncomfortable the longer his
pet wore it. And his pet was going to wear it for a long time.

Then he walked over to the post.  "Over here, pet."

He raised his pet's face until he was kneeling, made him turn so that his back
was against the post.  He re-collared his pet, attached that with a chain to the
restraint he had screwed into the post.  He fettered his pet's ankles together
behind the post, using the post itself to keep his pet's knees apart.  He
slipped the waist belt on, confining his hand to the other side of it after
passing his arm around the post.  The position forced his hips out.

Then, from the newly-stocked shelves of the armoire, he took several weights
which he hung from his pet's nipple rings, added a weighted cuff to his pet's
balls, snapped a cock ring around his pet's flaccid cock.

"You will stay in that position until I decide that my disappointment in you has
lessened, Pet.  The decorations will remain until I replace them with something
else."

And watched as peace and gratitude settled in his pet's eyes. "Yes, Master. 
Master?  Thank you."

Skinner kept his pet confined to the post while he went around checking on and
doing the minor repairs that the winter had forced upon the cabin.  Whenever he
passed by his pet, he took a moment to play with the weights, tugging on them,
or to stroke and caress his pet's body, knowing full well that his touch
aroused.

He made sandwiches for lunch, fed his pet his, allowed him some water before
settling himself down on the couch for an afternoon nap.  When he woke about an
hour later, he came up to his pet, released him from the post.  "Heel and follow
me."

He led his pet out onto the deck.  His pet stopped at his side, head down. 
"Kneel up, Pet.  Look around you.  Beautiful, isn't it?"

Skinner smiled at the view, the mountains in the background, the hills around
them, the lake that came up almost to the edge of the deck.  "The nearest
neighbour is at the other side of the lake, around the jet of land that you see
in the distance.  A very quiet neighbour.  I rarely see him, let alone hear him.
 As he can rarely hear anything from this part of the lake."  He looked down at
his pet, who was now looking up at his Master.

"I think we need to make a few things clear, Pet.  Maybe I was wrong to take
your decorations from you without explaining why. I wanted to get out of the
apartment before someone found something for me to do in the office.

"But you were very wrong in not telling me what was worrying you. Once we were
on our way, there was nothing preventing you from asking, pet.  You've grown
courageous lately.  And you seem to know just how far you can go with it.  What
happened that it failed you?"

His pet shrugged.

Skinner shook his head.  "Not acceptable, Pet."

He went to sit on the top step and beckoned.  Slowly, his pet made his way over.
 Skinner waited until he was right by him to grab his pet, haul him over his
lap.

"As I said, it's very rare that noise from here carries to our neighbour, and I
happen to know for a fact that he's not here this weekend.  I expect to hear
your remorse, Pet, at your disappointing me."

Skinner settled his pet firmly, his bound and erect cock between Skinner's
thighs, his ass high on his lap, in perfect position. He brought his hand down
hard, in a slow, accurate rhythm that soon had his pet's ass cheeks flaming, the
muscles quivering, his own hand tingling and his pet's voice filling the air
around them.  The butt plug vibrated from hand hitting cheeks, rubbing against a
prostate that only added pressure to an already throbbing cock.

When his right hand began protesting, Skinner flipped his pet around.  "Well,
Pet.  Have you had time to come up with an explanation of your behaviour?"

He rubbed soothing circles on his pet's back as he listened to him try and gain
control of his sobs.  "Sc...scared, Master."

"Scared.  Of what, Pet?  Seems to me that by not asking you were the one
responsible for scaring yourself."

Krycek shook his head, face miserable.

"Well, this will be a lesson to you, Pet.  Next time, ask.  I *will* answer your
questions.  There will never be punishment for the asking of them, Pet.  There
is only punishment for the displeasure your fear has caused me."

And he continued the spanking with his left hand until his pet's cries affected
even his Master's heart.  Still, he didn't offer comfort to his pet yet.  He
wanted this lesson to be truly and thoroughly learnt.  He left his pet, softly
whimpering to himself, in position on the deck while he set up the barbecue, lit
the fire and placed aluminum foil wrapped vegetables on the grill to cook in
their own juices.  He prepared the marinated steaks to the medium rare that he
and his pet both preferred and only then, with plate laden, did he call his pet
to him.

His pet ate whatever he was given, in silence.  He kept his eyes down, not
daring to look at his Master.  With cause.  When Skinner finished cleaning up,
he spent some time inside the cabin, working with some of the tools that he kept
there.

"Pet."

With some reluctance, his pet found his way into the cabin. Skinner restrained
him on his back, not at all sympathetic when his pet's flaming buttocks touched
the floor, causing him to hiss.  "Tonight, you will spend the night here.  Not
in my bed. Depending on how you behave during tomorrow's training, you may spend
another night on the floor, or, if you please me, in my bed."

"Yes, Master," said his remorseful pet.  "Thank you, Master."

Skinner hid his smile at the mournful tone.  His pet was back. He gently
caressed his pet's face, bent and thoroughly kissed his pet's delicious mouth.

As Skinner made himself comfortable in his loft bed, he wondered who the hell he
really was punishing by his sleeping alone. Since Spender, his pet had rarely
spent the night in his own room.  Only when he was being severely punished. 
And, Skinner admitted as he pounded a pillow to his specifications, he missed
the presence of his pet, either at the foot of the bed or next to him, snuggling
after they had had sex.  He didn't sleep particularly well.

The morning found a properly subdued pet watching for his Master's approval of
anything he did.  Skinner waited until after breakfast to begin the day's
training.  He had his pet follow him back onto the deck, to the top of the
steps.  This time he had him lie on his back, on the deck, legs widely spread.

Skinner made himself comfortable on the top step, played some time with his
pet's body, his decorations.  His cock responded well to his Master's touch. 
Skinner raked his fingers through the dark curls that grew at the base of his
pet's cock.  Without a word of explanation to his pet, Skinner took a pair of
small scissors in his hand and began cutting away at the hair.  He raked the
clippings off, tossing them to the ground.  Then, he lathered the stubble and,
with a safety razor that he rinsed in a small pot of warm water, he carefully
shaved his pet's pubic hair.

"Yes," Skinner passed his hand over the smooth skin, "I like this."

With one hand, he began stroking his pet's cock in the rhythm he now knew would
arouse him.   With the other, he played with his pet's decorations, pulling
slightly on the nipple rings, skimming his fingers over his pet's sensitive
abdomen, his thighs until his pet whispered, "Master, I'm going to come."

Skinner smiled.  "Thank you, pet.  Now listen to me.  See how hard you are now? 
How your cock is riding high against your belly?  I want to see it remain that
way.  I'll allow it to descend to the perpendicular, but anything lower than
that will displease me.

"You may not touch yourself.  When you need a hand, you will tell me, as you do
when I don't want you to come.  I will raise your cock for you again."

"Master.  How...how long..."  His pet hesitated.

Skinner smiled.  "Good.  I see yesterday's lesson was worth while.  How long
will I keep you this way?  As long as I care to. It could be an hour.  It could
be all day.  And no, you are not allowed to come.  See that shaded area of the
deck.  Go kneel there.  You may look at the scenery while I read."

His pet interrupted his reading whenever his cock began flagging. Skinner
enjoyed watching his pet's face as he struggled to remain in the state of
constant arousal without coming.  He passed his hands possessively over his
pet's body, raising his cock often without ever touching it.  He took delight in
the sight of his pet, eyes open, body flushed, trembling from being denied any
release of any kind, yet awaiting his master's pleasure.

And it aroused him as well.

Still, it was after lunch before he allowed both of them to be satisfied.  He
waited until his pet's tearful, quivering voice informed him that he needed his
Master's touch and, this time, he bent his pet over the short table he had
brought out, pulled the butt plug out and replaced it with his cock.  "You have
my permission to come," Skinner growled.  They both shouted their completion,
the noise startling some of the birds in the near-by trees.

That night, his pet by his side, both of them once more sated, Skinner slept
soundly.

Early the next morning, he introduced a new ritual to his pet's routine.  He
allowed his pet to use the bathroom, then led him to the deck and down the
steps.  There he had him sit and, smiling, had his pet slip his feet into thick
white socks then into an excellent pair of running shoes.  He tied the bows,
attached a retractible lead to his pet's collar.

"From now on, Pet, we go for a run whenever we're here.  We'll start with an
easy one.  A mile around the lake and then back. Come on, up on your feet, Pet. 
We'll do a few stretching exercises then we jog."

"Oh, and the plug.  Remember, it stays in.  All the way there and all the way
back, Pet."

Over the spring and summer, whenever they came, Skinner and his pet went for a
morning run together.  Sometimes, he liked to decorate his pet especially for
the run.  He attached differently sized bells to his nipple rings, to the navel
ring, to the oval that pierced his foreskin, even to the cylinder that he still
wore to weigh down his balls.  They made a nice tinkling sound that accompanied
them as they ran.

They had an interesting start one particular morning.  His pet was in need of a
little punishment for an infraction of the rules.  Skinner was not about to let
the changes in their relationship alter his pet's training.  He pulled out
another of those purple bags that always made his pet wary, took out a plug that
ended in a horse-tail.

It was worth every penny spent on it, just for the revulsion on his pet's face
when he saw it.  The black tail was thick and long, useful as flogger if
necessary; the plug wider and longer than what his pet normally wore when
running.  When ordered into position for insertion, his pet tossed his head,
flipping the hair off of his face, in a small show of rebellion.  Skinner had to
grin, that movement being precisely why he'd chosen this particular adornment in
the first place.

Under the dappled light of the early morning sun through the overhead canopy of
leaves, they ran steadily down the forest path.  No sound except for sweet song
of birds just waking, the steady thud of their foot falls and the gentle
swishing of the horse tail along the backs of his pet's thighs.

Fascinated by the sight of the tail emerging from between his pet's tight
cheeks, Skinner dropped back, nodding slightly to his pet to reassure him when
he turned his head to look back questioningly.

Watching his pet's muscular buttocks alternately flexing and stretching and the
steady dance of the tail was almost hypnotic, not in the least relaxing.  They
were approaching a small clearing beside the path.  He reached out and lightly
touched his pet's shoulder, drawing him to a halt.  Without a word, he guided
his pet to a fallen log, an ancient oak, shrouded with soft, dew-damp moss.

His pet instantly understood what was wanted of him.  He tossed his head again,
his nostrils quivering like the pony Skinner had made of him.  Silently, he
dropped down onto the log, the chain and weights hanging from his nipples
cradled against the mossy surface.

Tantalized beyond all patience, Skinner moved swiftly behind his pet, nudging
the thighs even farther apart.  He smiled at his pet's swift compliance, pleased
at how he somehow managed to project an air of subtle rebellion.  Discipline was
definitely called for.

The ache in his groin reminded him that whatever he administered would have to
be done swiftly.  With brisk efficiency, he brought his open palm down on each
rounded globe in turn.  The red of his hand prints glowed on the honeyed skin.

"You colour up so nicely, Pet."  It was difficult not to laugh at the sombre,
injured expression on his pet's face, at the groan that held a hint of protest. 
Skinner repeated the hard slaps until his palm began to warm, finally stepping
back to admire the results.

Nice.  Skin bright red, almost radiant in the soft morning light. Still, his
mood called for just a bit more.   The long tail, reaching almost to the ground
in his pet's current position, was the perfect solution. Gripping the plug's
flared base, he twisted and pulled it out in one motion.  A long satisfying moan
from his pet told him the abrupt removal had just the right effect.

"Smart a little, Pet?"  Holding the plug like a handle, he played the tail back
and forth across his pet's back.  "This might sting just a bit more. 
Unfortunately, it won't leave proper marks. Nevertheless, it should reinforce
your punishment nicely."

The skin of his pet's back twitched as the long hairs stroked over it.  This
time Skinner laughed out loud:  the whole scene really was quite horse like. 
Still chuckling, Skinner raised the horsetail over his shoulder and brought it
down firmly across the reddened gold of his pet's buttocks.  His pet moaned
loudly yet his hips tilted up to meet the next stroke.  The sight inflamed
Skinner all the more.  After less than a dozen strokes he stopped.

It was past time to see to his own pleasure.

Pulling the hot, quivering cheeks apart, he buried his cock full-length inside
his pet, with one powerful thrust.  His pet gasped, moaned and braced himself
against the log while Skinner pounded his way to completion.  Finally, bellowing
his satisfaction, he came, pumping his come deep into the bowels of his pet.

He levered himself up, giving the rosy buttocks a final hard slap as he pulled
free.  "That was fantastic!"

His pet lay limp across the moss covered log, gasping, abandoned, aching. 
"Master," the bedroom voice husked, "please, let me come.  I need to come,
Master."

"Oh, you think you *need* it, Pet?  That's entirely too bad.  We both know you
only receive what I choose to give."

With a wicked grin, Skinner readied the plug, wiping it down with a cloth taken
from one pocket of his shorts and relubing it from a handy bottle taken from the
other.  Stroking his hand down the quivering flanks, he worked it into the
puckered opening, knowing he was sealing the entrance, trapping his come inside
his pet.

The accusing glare he received as he helped his pet to his feet amused him. 
With a brisk pat on the ass, Skinner urged him back down the trail.  His pet
staggered slightly and they continued on, at a much slower pace than before.

Watching from behind once again, Skinner couldn't help smirking at his pet's
stiff, hobbling gate.  The soreness of his ass and the hard erection bobbing
between his thighs were strong reminders of who was the Master and who was the
Pet.

 Epilogue:  In Which a Pet Speaks


Once a year, Master offers me my freedom and, once a year, I need him to console
me after he does.

Even now, after all this time, the mere thought of being without him sends me
into panic.

I know why he does it.

He needs to know that I stay with him voluntarily.

That I accept his right to train me, to punish me.

To reward me.

That I want only his hands to touch my body, my soul.

That I belong to him.  Inside and outside.

Completely.

Thoroughly.

And I do.

He's permitted me more freedom as I've earned it. I may read, watch television,
videos.  I may use the computer.

If I want to read a certain book, to see a special video, I have only to ask.

He spoils me.

In turn, I have learnt to cook.  It's really not that difficult. No harder than
building a bomb from scratch, setting it up in a car.  Just a matter of
following the instructions.

And I've taken over the housework.  I am, says Master, more of a neat-freak than
he is.

Maybe.  But this is the first real home that I've had and he's given me that.  I
want it to look good for him.

He's also given me permission to wear clothes, but I hate wearing them.  He once
said he wanted me open to him at all times.  I want nothing to impede the touch
of his hands on me.

We've compromised.

When it grows cold, I wear one of his old t-shirts, one that is thin, all pulled
out of shape.  Easy to remove, easy to allow him access to the body that belongs
to him.

Only to him.

At the condo, I may walk on my feet when he is not there.  But once he opens the
door, I drop to my knees.  I welcome him properly as befits my Master.  It is
only his just due considering the life that he's given me.

He protects me.  Keeps me safe.  Even from the dark.  Only he will ever touch
me.  And even when he has to punish me, he comforts me after.  He holds me,
soothes me.

No one in my life before my Master claimed me ever took such care of me.

I hate going out.  I'm sure that some psychiatrist would say that I suffer from
agoraphobia, the fear of leaving one's house.

But why do I need to go out when all I need, could ever want is here with my
Master?

After Spender's death -- a disappearance that no one particularly noticed -- my
Master grew more concerned with me.  He trained me in the ways that pleased him.
 He keeps me plugged as a reminder that my ass belongs only to him.  I love
waking to find the plug removed and his cock deep in me.  I am not permitted to
come in the morning, only at night, and then only if I have pleased him. I work
hard to please him.

I love him.

There, I have said it.

I love him.

And I think he loves me, too.

Why else would he keep me around, humour me, bring me pleasure?

Comfort me.

He is retiring this spring.  It won't happen soon enough for me. We will move to
the cabin permanently then.

Since that decision, I am allowed to use my feet for more than running at the
cabin, though I still prefer to heel by his side.

And I still find it hard to go to the cabin though I am fine once we arrive
there.

Master understands.

He decorates me before we leave the condo, fills my ass with the largest, most
uncomfortable plug he could find.  The discomfort of sitting upright on the car
seat is enough to keep my mind off the fact that I am travelling from one safe
haven to another.

From one home to the other.

Once we are off the thru-way, I am allowed to assume the position that makes
this all worth while.  I nestle my face in his lap and work at making him hard
until we arrive at the cabin where I am allowed to make him come.

I love the taste of him.  I am addicted to it.

Last winter, a rumour made its way around the towns that the lake services. 
That someone, a foreign company, was buying up all the property around the lake,
possibly for development.

That was us.  My Master and I.

When Master announced he wanted to retire, I gave him the numbers to several of
the Swiss accounts that I knew still had not been discovered.  Master was
surprised.

"There are millions in these accounts, Pet.  More than enough to provide a new
identity, to make a new life.  Why haven't you done so, Alex?"

Alex.

There are times when I forget that is my name.  I prefer Pet. But the occasions
when he uses it are special.  It means Master has been deeply moved.

"Because," I explained, resting my head on his lap, "you are my life."

His hands were oh so gentle on me that night and he let me come, not once but
twice.

The purchase of the land guarantees our privacy.  Master will use some of the
money to build an addition to the cabin, a room for training.  I only asked that
a mirror be set in the ceiling so when he fists me, I can watch his hand
disappear inside my body.

He still has occasion to punish me.  I am not a perfect pet.  But every time he
has to do so, he quietly explains to me why it must be done.  And my pain is
still deserved for some of the things I did to hurt him and others.

Frankly, I don't care about the others.  I care only that once I hurt him.  That
I enjoyed hurting him.

For that alone, I deserve all the punishment he cares to mete out.

He still marks me.

It annoys me that the marks fade.  I want to bear his mark all the time.  He can
continue caning me if he wants for the satisfaction it gives him, but I want to
bear a permanent mark of some kind.

I want a visible sign that I belong to him.

I found the solution one day while surfing the Internet.  Now I only have to
convince him of it.

A brand.

Made to order.

I showed him the site and watched his face.  He said no, that he wouldn't burn
me like that.  But I printed out the information and left it lying around.

I saw him doodling the other day but he bunched the paper up and tossed it into
the trash.  I waited until he'd left for work to see what it was.

It's beautiful.

Almost Tudor in style.  His initials.  WSS.

They will look beautiful on my body.

Yes, it will hurt.  As it should.

But once I wear it, I will be his forever.

It won't be long now.  I think I shall do something to annoy him so that the
next time we go running, he will replace the plug with the horsetail that he so
loves seeing me wear.

Horses and branding go together.

He's a good Master.

He'll get the connection.

Soon I'll have what I want.