A Touch of the Whip by R L Arlington

A Touch of the Whip
by R L Arlington

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

A Touch of the Whip by R L Arlington

Later, when they were more used to each other, when they each knew what to expect, it became easier; but that first time... well, it was hard to know who it had taken more out of.

It was a Saturday. Mulder looked very different to his workday image: scuffed and frayed canvas basketball boots, faded grey sweatpants that had stretched and sagged, an outsize t shirt that had once been dark burgundy and had washed out to an indeterminate red. He hadn't shaved, and his hair stuck up in wilful spikes, not helped by his raking his fingers roughly through it as he wandered around the livingroom, stretching and scratching and making bitching noises under his breath.

Having picked a careful path through the chaos of Mulder's livingroom the little redhead sitting demurely on his couch was watching him with uncertain eyes, feeling unwelcome, the memory of Mulder's greeting at the front door still hurtful:

"I can't believe you're asking me to do this Scully. It's Saturday, I always sleep late on Saturday. If you weren't my friend and you weren't desperate I'd tell you to take a hike." More than his words it had been his tone that was so hurtful - he had sounded tired and disgusted and disinterested, when really he should have felt honoured by her asking him. This was going to be no fun at all.

And after almost ten minutes of sitting in Mulder's apartment and being ignored, his beautiful guest began to feel that this whole thing was a waste of time. Just sitting, with no one to talk to you or pay you attention - well, you could do that at home, and at least have your own comfortable couch to sit on, instead of Mulder's, which had a deep dent in the middle from him sleeping on it, and a treacherously slippy surface.

Then Mulder, after a particularly strenuous stretch and yawn and scratch, cast a sidelong glance at the couch. At once he saw a tiny quiver go through the little body, a pleased expectation.

"Looking for some attention, huh?" Mulder said, smiling despite himself.

"Well, I said you could stay for an hour, so I guess I might as well make the most of it. How 'bout we play a little game?" Most of what had come out of his mouth had been just so much white noise but the word 'game' produced an immediate reaction. Mulder was amused to see the soft liquid eyes brighten with anticipation, and the neat little head toss once, soft red hair flicking and settling again.

Mulder moved the coffee table to one side, then lifted up some files which had been on the floor under it, clearing a space. As he did so he was saying softly to himself:

"I know what you're used to. You think playing means being tickled and kissed and petted, and told you're the most beautiful thing alive. Well now Mulder's going to teach you a new kind of game. You suit yourself far too much: a little discipline would do you the world of good."

Speaking so softly his words could not be made out; but something in his tone must have communicated itself to the subject of this criticism, for Mulder, looking up from his crouched position as he took up the last of the files, was met by an uncertain gaze, and a careful stillness.

"Stay right there." Mulder turned and walked towards the bedroom, only to realise that he was being followed - it seemed that curiosity had gotten the better of his playmate.

"I thought I told you to stay there," Mulder said. "Okay, you just please yourself for now, but you're going to end up doing what I tell you." As he spoke he went into the bedroom and opened the closet, then reached up to a cardboard box on the top shelf. The pretty little redhead stretched and strained to see what it was he was getting, but the shelf was much too high.

"Look" Mulder said. "I haven't used this since I moved to Washington. I gotta tell you though, this has a lot of happy memories for me." He turned and showed his companion what he had taken out of the box: a long narrow leather strap.

Oh no. Not this. A lifetime spent carefully avoiding this kind of abuse, and now, delivered up to the perverted desires of this lunatic.

Escape...flee...hide, these were the only thoughts the redhead was capable of. Eyes, wide with terror, glancing around, desperately seeking an escape route. Twisting away from him, running at full tilt out of the bedroom into the living room, freezing in the middle of the cleared space, horrified, realising that this was exactly where he had intended them to be. Knowing Mulder was in hot pursuit, a panic stricken glance around, then a hopeless turning, standing four square facing him, defiant, determined to fight.

Mulder glaring down at the delicate little face, stretching out one hand. He was so tall, so big. Courage...

"Son of a bitch!" Mulder jerked his hand back in time to avoid the little white teeth.

"Come here you. I'm going to teach you some manners. You needn't think you're going to be let do shit like that."

Mulder got hold of a handful of soft russet hair and pulled that little body to him, despite a surprising amount of resistance. Who'd have imagined that such a little thing could be so strong? But the match was still very uneven, and Mulder was able to subdue the hopeless struggles, and, forcing down the little head, got the strap around that delicate neck and clipped it closed.

Having enforced his will thus far, Mulder was prepared to temper his unkindness. Still holding the handful of red hair he began to softly stroke the delicate facial bones, the sharp little chin, the slender neck, sliding his fingers inside the leather strap.

"There you go. See, that's not so bad is it? You're not hurt. I'm not going to kill you. It's just your pride that's going to suffer. And believe me, you'll be happier when you know who's in charge."

Mulder waited till the slender body under his hands had stopped shaking, then let the lock of red hair slide through his fingers. The little head turned, eyes enormous in that pretty little face, helpless, wanting to trust him, but frightened.

"Okay now. You sit down here on the floor... come on, sit down," Mulder used the slightest pressure of his hand on the spine to compel obedience.

"Look, I have something for you." Mulder put a hand into one pocket of his sweatpants and wriggled his fingers. The wide eyes watching him did not recover their original thoughtless enthusiasm, but there was a definite interest.

"What have I got for you? Something nice, huh? Can you tell?" Mulder took his hand out of his pocket and pro-offered his hand. He felt the soft warm touch of breath as his hand was delicately sniffed.

"Ha ha. You like that? You want some of that?" Mulder laughed at the sudden intense interest, the little shiver of excitement, the eager eyes.

"Okay, but you have to earn it." This produced only a look of blank bewilderment, so Mulder made himself clearer.

"Okay, I'm gonna let this leash out, but you have to stay still, okay? STAY still...that's it. Ah ah, no." A jerk on the leash, putting a stop to an uncertain attempt to move.

"STAY still...that's right. Good. That's worth a reward." Mulder smiled at the touch of the soft little velvet mouth, greedily enjoying what he offered.

"Okay, let's do it again." Mulder pulled the leash tight again, ignoring a silent appeal for mercy from the beautiful eyes watching him. Then he loosened it again, soothing and instructing the whole time.

"STAY still... that's it. Good. Good."

Over and over Mulder repeated the same movements, pulling in the leash so that his victim was acutely aware of a sense of helpless entrapment, then letting the hated leather strap slide through his fingers. Any attempt to take advantage of the freedom offered, any sudden movement, any sign of restlessness or lack of attention was instantly punished by a humiliating, uncomfortable jerk on the leash. But careful attentive obedience was rewarded by the seductive slightly sharp, slightly sweet taste that Mulder could produce.

"Okay, let's try something a little more difficult." Mulder tightened up the leash again. The sense of restraint was no longer so unbearable: constant repitition, together with Mulder's soothing praises and caresses and above all that delicious 'reward' - had made even his tight grip acceptable as a sign of his dominating attention.

But now, instead of merely loosening the strap, he let it fall from his fingers entirely, and took a single slow step back.

"STAY still... STAY there." His voice was calm but commanding, trying to impose the instruction over the almost hysterical excitement infront of him. The redhead's entire body trembled, every nerve quivering, wanting only to go to him. Then in a passionate explosion that small body throwing itself against him, only to be repulsed.

"No. You get nothing for that. You have to wait till I tell you," Mulder said sharply. Roughly he pushed the little form away, back to where he wanted it, taking up the leash again. For a second he seemed ashamed of his own abruptness, in the face of those deep injured eyes cowering infront of him, and the tiny whimper of supplication; and smoothing his two hands over the tumbled waves of soft red hair, he condescended to say encouragingly:

"I know you're excited, but you have to wait till I tell you. Let's do it again." The words meant nothing, but the warm tone of his voice was so comforting.

Again his firm grip on the leather leash, then the strap sliding and falling loose, and Mulder stepping away. Again the awful internal struggle between the desire to obey him, to please him, to avoid punishment; and the helpless need to be close to him, to have what only he could give.

How had he done this? How had he made his approval the most important thing in the whole world? His voice was different, deeper and more threatening than the gentle endearments his playmate was accustomed to from others, and he smelt different - sharper, muskier, more MALE. That was the appeal - he was so big and tall and strong. He spoke with such determined authority. It got you nowhere with Mulder to be petite and pretty. You were wasting your time wriggling and blinking and tossing your red curls. The only thing that pleased Mulder was being obeyed. You could blink and pant and shiver as much as you liked, but you'd better not move till he let you.

"Okay, come now. Come on." His words set the trembling body free. Mulder, half mocking, pretended to fall back under the impact, his hands stroking and caressing the elegant little head and face.

"Aren't you good? Yes you are. Yes you are. You came when I told you to," Mulder laughing and leaning his face down. Bliss. To be in his arms, to have his hands smoothing your hair, his fingers kneading the flesh of your jaw and neck, sliding down your body onto your stomach.

"You want some more? You're just greedy. I don't know if I have anything left. Let's take a look. Hey, you're in luck, I still have something for you. Here, how's that? You like that?"

The delectable taste that came from Mulder and no one else, but only a tease, hardly enough to taste, then being lifted into his lap so easily, feeling very small and very powerless. His hand closing on the leash, the sense of restraint again. Glowing eyes, almost drugged with pleasure, looking up at Mulder from under a heavy fringe of long brown eyelashes. Feeling surrounded and contained by the hard powerful contours of his body, sensed through his soft loose clothes. The hand on the leash required stillness and obedience, but a kiss...might he not permit a kiss?

Tentatively the little face raised to Mulder, the sweet mouth opening slightly, hardly breathing.

"What are you looking for? Huh? Oh, you want a kiss, do you? Okay, you've been good, you can give me a kiss." Mulder leaned down.

Kiss, yes. Kiss. The bristly scrape of Mulder's chin, the soft yielding skin of his lips, the warm slightly sour taste of his mouth.

"Enough already," Mulder laughing, pushing away the passionate kisses, then wiping his hand across his mouth.

The knock at the door startled both of them. Mulder lifted the little light body out of his lap. As he walked to the door he glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the trembling hesitation of his companion.

"You want to know who it is? Come on, come and see."

The little redhead ran to Mulder, standing close behind him as he opened the door, peeking around him at the person standing outside, then letting out a delighted little yelp.

"Mulder!" Scully was surprised but really pleased. "You got a real leash on him! How did you do that?" Scully bent down and scooped Queequeg up into her arms. Mulder, finding a lone survivor of the handful of sunflower seeds that had been in the pocket of his sweatpants, put his hand up to his mouth, hiding his smile.

"Easy. And he'll stay when he's told to."

"Mulder you're a genius. I hate that extending lead - Queequeg is small enough to go places I can't follow, and I'm afraid he'll get into trouble. Where did the leash come from?"

"Oh, I had it in a box of junk. I haven't had a dog since I came home from England. You're welcome to it. Anyway, what did the dentist say?"

"Oh." Scully's face dropped a little.

" Well, it was the crown, and he fixed it, but the other two are going to have to be adjusted too. So I was hoping that next week...Mulder I hate to ask, but with my mother away, and a dog-minder won't book for only an hour..."

"It's cool, it's no problem."

"Oh Mulder, thank you. Queequeg, say bye to Mulder and we'll let him go back to bed."

"Bye dog. Bye Scully."

"Bye Mulder, thanks again." Scully put Queequeg down, slipping the loop at the end of the leash over her wrist.

"You're both welcome." Mulder leaned against the open doorway, watching them walk away down the hallway. And you'll always be welcome, he thought to himself, smiling. Look at you, with your red hair and your busy little wiggle. You can be a nuisance but you're awful cute.

- end -

A Touch of the Whipby R L Arlington

A Touch of the Whip by R L Arlington

A Touch of the Whip
by R L Arlington