Cruel, Skinner's Master by Gaby *** Okay, this is kinda sorta my take on the things that happened in "Paperclip"...I originally wrote this exclusively for Xanthe because she challenged me to write it. Obviously, this story was never meant to see the light of day, but when I saw that the wonderful Walter Torture Archive celebrated its 50,000th hit I thought this would be the perfect pressie for it! I mean, the Surly One can't suffer more than here... *** WARNING: NC-17 for elements of non-consensual D/s play, in very graphic detail! Oh, and regarding the pairing? Well, the title says it all, doesn't it? Disclaimer: Nope, ain't mine...CC can keep CSM, anyway! But I'll gladly take the Surly One off your hands, Chris-darlin'!!! :-) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Skinner stared at the other man. Show no fear. Show no fear. Show no fear... "I do not negotiate. Do you understand?" Shit! "Yes, sir." "I don't think you do. I don't think you understand at all." Oh yes, I do. Only too well. "No, I'm quite aware of your policies in those regards." Skinner could see in the other man's eyes that they both knew just what exactly those policies were. Show no fear. I need this for Mulder. And Scully. Show no fear... "Then I hope your next course of action will be more...cautious and informed." Skinner didn't waver but he was trembling inside. He knew very well what the other man meant when he said those words. He didn't care about the fucking tape. He wanted something else. He watched the other man leave his office. Then he swallowed hard and bent over, afraid that he might be sick. *** Skinner knew that this was the end. Still, he couldn't back off now. In for a penny, in for a pound, and he wanted to help Mulder and Scully. Besides, deep down he also knew that he was doing the right thing! He walked up to the other man, protecting the old Indian named Albert. Taking his life in his hands, he stood proudly and straight. "This is where you pucker up and kiss my ass!" Oh god, I'll be so dead... "Now listen you..." "No, you listen to me, you son of a bitch!" Oh god, I'm really gonna be dead. Oh so very dead. "This man's name is Albert Hosteen. You should remember that. Because if Agents Mulder and Scully come down with so much as a case of the flu Albert is prepared to recite, chapter and verse, file for file, everything on your precious tape." Skinner looked into the other man's eyes. Please don't kill me. I'm so sorry but I have to do this. "It's a nice try, Skinner." Don't you wish, old man... Skinner then explained the ancient oral traditions of the Navajo people. There was no way that the other man would be able to get out of this winning. At least, regarding the tape. The other thing, though... Skinner looked into disbelieving eyes. "You're bluffing." No. Not about this one. "Am I?" He looked calm and in control. What a charade. He was scared to death. When he saw the other man leaving his office, he looked at Albert who gave him a proud nod. You don't know the half of it, my friend! *** After Albert had left, Skinner found himself trembling so hard that he had to sit down. He buried his face in his hands, shaking. What am I gonna do? I'm a dead man. I'm so dead. Why don't I just go and shoot myself? "Traitor." The word was spoken softly, almost tenderly. Skinner looked up in surprise. He wasn't surprised that the other man had come back, though. And he certainly wasn't surprised by that look. That look of steel. Hard. Cold. Deadly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just had to-" Skinner stood now, arms outstretched in a vain attempt to show his surrender. He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the imperceptible nod towards the conference room door. Swallowing convulsively, Skinner hung his head and slowly walked over, opened the door. Walked through. Waited for the other man to enter as well. Closed the door. Locked it. Waited. Waited. Waited. The other man didn't speak. Or move. He just stood there, staring at Skinner. After several minutes of stale-mate, he took out a pack of Morleys, grabbed one cigarette, put the pack away, lit the cigarette. Took a drag. Skinner knew exactly what was expected of him, and since he knew that he wouldn't win, he complied. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Slowly unbuckled his belt. Opened top button and zipper. Lost the pants along with shoes and socks. Unbuttoned the shirt. Lost that, too. Last, but certainly not least, the briefs. He folded his clothes and laid them on a chair before turning to the other man. There still wasn't any kind of reaction, except for the fact that the other man was now sitting in the chair at the head of the conference table. Skinner's chair. Smoking. Skinner walked up to the man and looked at him uncertainly. He knew exactly what was required of him, so he slowly fell down on his knees, back straight, arms at his side, head down. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. The other man finished his cigarette and lit another with maddening slowness. Skinner didn't move a muscle. After settling himself down comfortably in the big leather chair, the other man calmly asked, "So, what was I supposed to do to you?" Skinner swallowed. "I said...I said that you should pucker up and kiss my ass." He looked up beseechingly. "And I'm really sorry for that, master! I didn't mean it the way-" "Hush!" An old and wrinkled hand shot up. Skinner closed his mouth. "We both know who will do the puckering and kissing. Don't we, boy?" He gave the hint of a smile, and Skinner shuddered. "Yes, master." Skinner looked at the floor again, terrified. "Let's get down to business, then," the other man said, getting up. Skinner stared at him in disbelief, not entirely sure where this was leading. When he saw the other man shucking his pants and underwear, he realized what he was supposed to do. Damn. The other man laid face down on the conference table, still fully clothed from the waist up, still smoking. Waiting. Skinner got up and stood next to the prone man. After a second, he bent over and reverently kissed both butt cheeks. "I'm sorry, master. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me." He kissed them again, this time slowly trailing his tongue up and down each buttock, letting it glide over dry skin. "Maybe. Let's see how you perform first." "Yes, master." Skinner gently parted the butt cheeks and looked at the wrinkled opening. God, how much he hated that. Detested that. One day I will shoot this son of a bitch. He inched closer, softly blowing on the puckering hole. He gently kissed the tender skin that was now offered for his attention, getting close but never too close to the most tender part. He used his tongue to slowly leave a wet trail up and down the cleft, barely brushing over the opening. It puckered in response. Pucker up and kiss my ass... When he felt his master wriggling, he went in for the real thing. Slowly teasing the tiny hole until it relaxed a little. Dabbing the tip of his tongue in. And out. Back in again. Never forgetting to attend to the rest of the cleft, and the buttocks he gently kneaded in his hands. When the other man pushed his butt back, Skinner began to use his tongue more forcefully, entering the hole with it. He knew he was good at it. He had had enough time to practice. He had had enough sessions with the cane or the whip to learn when he had done something wrong. And Skinner was a fast learner. As well as an excellent tongue fucker. The other man moaned and started to buck into the conference table. His withered hand, with those yellow-stained fingers, disappeared between the table and his body, and it took him only a few strokes to climax. Skinner knew better than to just stop so he kept kissing and licking the ass in front of his face dutifully. Maybe his master would be generous enough, especially after his skillful administrations just now, and consider matters closed. When the other man's hand emerged from the general area of his crotch, it went straight to Skinner's head, batting him away from the butt. Skinner stood up, and waited with his head down. The other man sat up slowly, still breathing hard. "Not bad. Not bad at all. You're getting better every time." "Thank you, master." Yes! I'm off the hook! I just knew it! The other man got off the table that was now sporting an ugly spot of come, and got dressed. Skinner still stood motionless, waiting for the next order. It came when the other man was standing in the open doorway, almost gone. "You will present yourself for the rest of your punishment tonight at my place." Shit! Skinner closed his eyes, willing the other man to change his mind. The door was closing when the other man stuck his head back in. "Oh, and one more thing," he added as an afterthought. Skinner looked up. "Take the next few days off. You'll need them." The door closed silently. THE END.