Aphrodisia III - The Joy of Surrender (1 of 5)
Kristel St. Johns
kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com

Rating: EXTREME NC-17
Classification: SR
Archive: Yes. (Redistribute with permission only, and with 
headers and disclaimers intact.)
Spoilers: Umm, early Season 7, I guess. 
Timeframe: Undetermined Season 7
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance, Smut.  I have taken out 
the PWP keyword since so many readers have sworn to me that 
a plot made its way into the series unbeknownst to me.
                       
Author's Notes and Assorted Blatherings:
                                                                      
                                                                      
                                                                      
                                                                      
                                                                      
                                                                      
                                                                      

An unexpected side effect of writing this series is that I 
have actually had an impact on people's real lives.  People 
have written to me informing me that due to interest 
sparked by this series, they have approached their 
spouse/mate/significant other about the possibility of 
adding some BDSM play into their own relationships.

Needless to say, I was utterly floored.

It has made me realize just how important it is that a
tale such as this be told accurately and responsibly.  It 
is genuinely frightening, in light of the fact that people 
sometimes DO act on what they read, that there is so much 
unrealistic and inaccurate material (especially in fanfic)
dealing with this subject matter.  If done incorrectly or 
unsafely, these activities could be dangerous or injurious.  

If I have touched off a spark of curiosity within you, I am 
thrilled. If you decide to pursue this curiosity, so much 
the better.  The best of wishes to you and your partner.  
But--PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE handle the situation responsibly.  
I *KNOW* how tempting it is to plunge in with both feet, 
but take your time.  Do it right.  Do your research, learn 
the proper and safe ways responsible BDSM is practiced.  
Safe, sane, and consensual--learn it, live it, love it.  
It's not just a tag-line, believe me.

For everyone's convenience and edification, I have created
a links page on my web-site to various BDSM dictionaries 
and resource guides (many thanks to Indi for providing the 
URLs.)Please do check out these sites and avail yourselves 
of the resources they offer.  Enjoy your exploration, but 
BE SAFE!

The URL for my web-site, where you can find the 
aforementioned links page as well as the earlier stories 
in this series (this story won't make much sense without 
them) and my other fan-fiction is:
http://www.geocities.com/kristeljohns/


DISCLAIMER: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, 
And The X-Files do not belong to me. They are the property 
Of FOX Television, 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, David 
Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. They are used here without 
permission.  No profit is being made by their use in this 
story. 

SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains graphic depiction 
of sexual activities between consenting adults, including 
BDSM-related activities. It is in no way, shape, or form 
intended for younger readers. If you are under the age of 
17 or sensitive to this kind of material, do not proceed. 
Thank you. 



APHRODISIA III - THE JOY OF SURRENDER

I stared at my wrist as though I'd never seen it before.  
It was wrapped in a two-inch wide band of black leather 
with a steel buckle Mulder was securing snugly.  Over the 
large strap of leather was a narrower, smaller strap 
secured to the main cuff with rivets.  Between the two 
straps was the flat side of a D-shaped steel ring, 
ostensibly for using the cuff to secure the wearer--in this 
case me--to various and sundry objects.  The buckle was 
also odd.  Rather than being a simple steel spike that 
passed through a small hole in the band, the buckle had a 
small loop at the end, and the holes in the band were 
elongated slots.

While nimbly and confidently wrapping my arm in this 
leather contraption, Mulder kept a steady conversation 
going with the shop owner.  The man was middle-aged and of 
a medium build, dressed only in tight black jeans and a 
leather vest.  Numerous tattoos covered his arms and chest, 
and he had more piercings than I could remember ever seeing 
on any one person--and in my line of work, I've seen a lot.  
Most fascinating to me was the bar that passed under the 
skin on the bridge of his nose with small balls on both 
ends, looking like a miniature barbell.  He was bald and 
had a long, thick beard and moustache.

I felt very exposed in this public place.  Despite the fact 
that I was decently dressed and our behavior, considering 
the purpose of our visit, was nothing shocking, I felt as 
though every eye in the place was trained upon me.  The 
fact that I was the person for whom these cuffs were 
intended branded me in the sight of whomever cared to 
notice as a submissive.  I felt I could have had it 
tattooed on my forehead--surely everyone who walked through 
the door knew.  What must they be thinking, I wondered.  In 
the armor of my professional suits and badge, I was a woman 
to be reckoned with, but here, not only did I not have that 
armor, but they could see very clearly my role in this new 
dynamic Mulder and I were exploring.

Realistically, I knew no one particularly cared.  If they 
were here, their purpose was no more or less savory than 
ours.  No one patronizing this store had any right to pass 
judgement of any form on me, and yet I was still incredibly 
conscious of being viewed in these surroundings by all and 
sundry.

"Those cuffs are good because the leather band holding the 
D-ring on is thicker and won't stretch.  See the rivets on 
either side of the ring?  They keep the ring from slipping 
around or twisting," the owner commented.  "These cuffs can 
also be locked on with a small padlock passing through the 
loop on the tongue of the buckle."

Mulder gave an experimental tug on the ring, holding my 
wrist in place with one hand while pulling on the cuff with 
the other.  I would have expected the leather to bite into 
my skin, but it didn't.  The cuff was lined with a soft, 
fleece-like material that padded the inside and kept it 
from cutting in.

Mulder grabbed my other wrist, which had already been 
similarly cuffed, and pulled my wrists together behind my 
back.  He secured the rings on both cuffs to one another 
with a carabiner, a metal clip used in outdoor sports such 
as rock-climbing.  I would have wondered at his easy 
handling of the cuffs, had I not already known he'd had 
some experience in this realm.  Besides, a buckle is a 
buckle, I suppose, whether it's on a belt or a wrist cuff.

"How do those feel?" he murmured next to my ear.  "Are they 
biting in anywhere?"

They were a hell of a lot more comfortable than the kind of 
handcuffs we normally dealt with.  I shook my head.  "No."

"Are they too tight?  Too loose?"

They were neither.  I didn't feel they restricted my blood 
circulation to my fingers, but neither did they slip around 
on my wrists.  "No," I answered.  "They're comfortable."

I didn't pause to allow myself to consider the unreality of 
it all.  I was in a Philadelphia fetish shop, surrounded by 
leather gear bearing outrageously expensive price tags, 
basically serving as a human mannequin for Mulder.  I was 
not there to pick or choose or even voice an opinion on the 
matter.  I was simply to try things on and let my master 
know if they fit and were comfortable or within an 
acceptable range of discomfort.

My master.  If anyone had told me a week and a half ago I 
would ever speak those words, I would have laughed at them 
and then called their sanity into question.  Even the 
previous evening when Mulder and I had discussed how I 
should address him, I hadn't even seriously believed I 
could ever say it.  And yet...

When the moment had come this morning, I had known what he 
wanted me to say but I had faltered.  The word on my tongue 
had felt strange, but as Mulder had pinched my nipple and 
forced me into acquiescence, I came to realize it was true.  
On this day, until we awoke Sunday morning, I had given 
this man the right of ownership of me.  He could use me as 
he wished, do with me what he pleased, and command me to do 
what pleased him.  He had stripped away my name and given 
me another, one that was solely his to call me.  And all 
this realization came to me with a greater ease of 
acceptance than I ever could have imagined.  So be it, I 
had decided. 

And so I had yielded and had called him Master.  And though 
the title still felt strange, with each repetition it came 
to feel more right, more proper.  And I had realized with a 
start of surprise as I had showered and taken a moment to 
consider the situation I was happy, even thrilled by this 
development.  I don't think I'll ever know what it was 
within me that needed this, had been missing it for years, 
but I couldn't fight it any longer.  As long as I had the 
assurance the next morning I would be Dana Scully, special 
agent and medical doctor, formidable and independent 
professional once more, I could let myself be Kat for the 
day, and Mulder would be my Master.

I came back from my mental meandering to find Mulder and 
the shop owner had moved away onto another display of 
cuffs.  With my hands still cuffed behind my back, I 
shuffled forward to keep pace with them.  When I reached 
Mulder, he lifted one hand and stroked the side and back of 
my neck idly.  To my own surprise, I found myself leaning 
into his caress, turning my head aside to make my neck more 
accessible to his touch.  A thrill of pleasure raced across 
my skin, raising small bumps over my flesh, and I blushed 
when I found the shop owner looking at me in amusement.  I 
realized I was arching into his petting, just as my 
namesake would.

Mulder had done it deliberately, I realized.  He was 
testing me, seeing if I would protest his public, 
proprietary displays.  He was emphasizing that, on this 
day, I was as much his in public as I was in private.  As 
long as we were nowhere that such displays could be seen by 
anyone we wouldn't want to know about our games, we were 
not going to keep them confined to the bedroom.  Was I okay 
with that?  I didn't know.  I felt awkward that I could be 
seen by anyone, that anyone could know what was happening 
between us, and yet there was a comfort in being possessed 
by him, even here, that I wasn't willing to forego.

Mulder bent over and brushed a reassuring kiss to my 
temple, still chatting with the shop owner who then turned 
his attention back to the matter at hand.  They were 
discussing something called suspension cuffs.  I looked at 
the rack of leather goods before us and realized these 
cuffs were different from the ones I was currently wearing.  
They, too, were lined in either a faux fur or soft padded 
fleece, but at the same point where the buckles came 
together around the wrists, two tapering straps of leather 
curved away from the cuffs and ended with steel rings.

As they spoke, Mulder stepped behind me and began to 
release my wrists from the current cuffs and the owner 
handed him a pair of the suspension cuffs.  Bringing my 
arms forward, Mulder buckled me into the new cuffs.

"May I ask what these are for?" I finally murmured, my tone 
deferential, pulled from my musings by sheer curiosity.

"They're for use whenever I choose to bind you in a way 
that could put a strain on your wrists," he answered 
softly, taking a moment to sensuously caress my hands and 
forearms on either side of the band of the cuff.  "These--" 
he indicated the leather straps which dangled by my 
fingers, "--pass through the palms like this--" he pulled 
on the straps and I instinctively opened my hand to grasp 
them in my fist.  He grabbed the rings of the cuffs and 
pulled my arms over my head in an abrupt, sudden gesture.  
I gripped the straps in my hands tightly as he stretched my 
arms up as far as they would go while keeping my feet on 
the floor, "--and holding them keeps the cuff from pulling 
up and biting into your hand."

Anyone in law enforcement, much less medicine, can attest 
that one of the main problems with steel handcuffs is that 
struggling in them can wreak a great deal of havoc on the 
connective tissues in the wrist.  Tendons and ligaments can 
be injured from the steel gouging into the flesh in a 
struggle.  I could see that while leather cuffs such as the 
ones I had first worn might reduce this danger, they 
wouldn't eliminate it.  If the edge of the cuff dug into 
the base of the hand where it flared out from the wrist, 
those same connective tissues could be damaged.  I realized 
with surprise that these suspension cuffs were expressly 
designed for my safety.  It was something I hadn't 
considered before.

Still holding my arms stretched over my head, Mulder bent 
over and gave me a brief, almost chaste kiss on the lips 
before murmuring in my ear, "Wouldn't want to injure your 
gun hand."  Then he turned his attention back to the shop 
owner and announced his intention to buy both pairs of 
cuffs, as well as a pair of matching ankle cuffs.

I obediently sat when instructed, and Mulder fastened two 
cuffs identical to the first pair he had put on my wrists, 
but slightly larger, around my ankles.  He again pulled on 
the D-rings and once again inquired about my comfort.  As 
before, they were reasonably comfortable.

The cuffs selected, Mulder chose several lengths of chains 
of varying strengths, and began looking through a display 
of odd objects in a velvet display case before choosing two 
pair of shiny silver devices, each pair joined by a length 
of chain running between them.  One looked to be a V-shaped 
clip with small rubber sleeves on the ends where they met.  
It had a spring to force the ends together and a small 
screw stuck out the side, which I later learned was to 
tighten or loosen the tension on the spring.  The other was 
a much more elaborate apparatus, round and with criss-
crossing beams through the center.  It also employed a 
spring and a screw, but the ends that protruded from round 
body were flat disc-like surfaces.

I realized with combined fascination and horror that these 
were nipple clamps.  Nipple clamps--dear God.  I would have 
wondered what he intended to do with those, but I could 
already imagine all too well what the purpose was.  His 
fingers pinching me was one thing, but the sight of the 
cold, steel clamps--foreign objects that had no other 
purpose but to inflict discomfort or even pain--were enough 
to make me swallow my tongue.  My heart was beating wildly 
in my chest and my underwear were damp with my arousal as 
he gave both sets of clamps to the store owner to add to 
our purchases.

We bypassed the displays of whips and crops, harnesses, 
clothing and shoes and stopped at a display of paddles.  
Mulder picked up a few leather-covered pieces and examined 
them as I watched warily.  He finally chose one of blond 
wood covered with leather on one side and fur on the other.  
He gave me a mischievous grin and I swallowed hard.  Again, 
this was an object with a very express purpose--one I could 
all too easily envision.  Did he intend to use it, or was 
this simply part of the game, him driving home the point 
that he was in control and could do with me what he wished?  
He handed it to the owner and I closed my eyes for a 
moment, fighting again the spasm of fear I felt.  What had 
I gotten myself into?

Lastly, we reached a display case in which several very 
lovely and elaborate collars were on display.  The store 
had offered other collars, but they were very plain affairs 
of black leather with buckles and rivets, spikes and studs 
and rings.  These were much more artful.

One after the other, Mulder placed several on my neck and 
fastened them, then stood back to stare at me intently, his 
eyes dark and serious.  I was silent throughout the 
process, feeling somehow as if Mulder putting these collars 
on my neck sealed the deal we had brokered and to which I 
had willingly agreed--I was his.  His what?  Slave?  Pet?  
Property?  All of the above?  I didn't know and I supposed 
it didn't really matter, beyond the fact he was without 
question staking his claim.  This entire day was an 
exercise in his domination over me.  I knew that, like me, 
he was feeling his way, but from his air of self-assurance, 
one couldn't possibly have guessed it.

He had forced the admission from my own lips earlier when 
he made me acknowledge the name he had given me and when I 
had yielded and called him Master-- I belonged to him.  The 
thought filled me with pride and pleasure, and I stood 
straight and held my head high while I modeled the collars 
for him.

At long last, he chose one.  It was made of two layers.  
The inside was a kind of black leather that was softer than 
velvet against my skin, which the storeowner said was 
doeskin.  The outside layer was a circlet of shiny steel, 
and because the inside layer could not be seen from 
outside, it looked like the collar itself was steel, but 
still was comfortable to wear.  It fastened behind my head 
and apparently, as with the cuffs, could be locked into 
place with a small padlock through the buckle.  Agreeing to 
purchase the collar, Mulder stepped over to the register.  
The sale was totaled and the merchandise bagged.  We left 
the store with Mulder carrying the bag and guiding me out 
with his hand at my waist.

We stopped for lunch immediately afterward, since the drive 
to Philadelphia from Washington had taken up most of what 
had been left of the morning.  Breakfast hadn't been 
terribly substantial.

After eating, I was surprised to find our next stop was, of 
all places, a tack shop.  I stood by Mulder, my eyes wide, 
while he painstakingly chose a leather riding crop, a 
quirt, and a signal whip and made the purchase.  After 
making the purchase, we walked to the car, and as I opened 
the door, he met my eyes and held them, but I remained 
silent.  Of course I was wary, and a little fearful, but I 
had given my consent to all of this.  I had meant what I 
had said the night before regarding his right to punish me.  
By my own consent, he had the option to do it if I 
disobeyed.

Nonetheless, I hadn't really visualized what that 
punishment would entail.  In the novel I had read, "Story 
of O", O had been whipped with such implements for no other 
reason than it pleased her masters.  I couldn't imagine 
Mulder desiring to do such a thing to me--I would have to 
misbehave before he would actually punish me, but in some 
way, wasn't that worse?  If I disobeyed, I would be forcing 
Mulder to hurt me, and as he had told me Friday night, that 
was something he really didn't want to do.  It would almost 
be easier if he was a sadist--at least then, if he hurt me, 
I knew I was at least enduring it for his pleasure.  If I 
disobeyed, all I would be doing was making us both unhappy.  
I really had no choice, then, but to be the most obedient 
of submissives.  Strangely, I wasn't quite content with 
that idea, either.

We made another stop in a clothing store.  On Saturdays, if 
I was permitted to wear clothing, Mulder told me it would 
need to be easily accessible for him.  That meant a loose 
skirt with no underwear and a button-down top with a front-
clasp bra.  This formula was simplified by the addition of 
several loose dresses that buttoned all the way down the 
front to my wardrobe.  I took the dresses into the fitting 
room to try on, and Mulder instructed me to wear one when 
we left the store, sans panties.  With the clothes I had 
come with and my underwear in a bag the store had provided, 
I walked outside with Mulder to feel the cool air touch my 
sex.  The decadent thrill of the sensation was wonderful.  
We also stopped at a lingerie shop where Mulder chose 
several negligees and teddies, which, he told me with a 
smile, didn't necessarily need to be reserved for 
Saturdays.  They were a gift to me.

When we reached the car in a covered parking ramp with this 
last round of purchases, he pinned me to the side of the 
car and began kissing me passionately.  He'd been tender 
and casual in his physical contact with me during the 
shopping excursion, but the afternoon was aging and it had 
been hours since he had made love to me that morning.  I 
could feel his erection gouging my belly as he ground 
against me and I moaned into his open mouth.

"Take me home?" I asked with a hint of a plea in my voice.  
I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath, needed to 
feel him in and around me, possessing me.

He pulled back and studied me for a moment, as he had 
earlier in the day, and I felt I could practically read his 
thoughts.  Was I okay with this?  Surprisingly, the answer 
was yes.  Even when something evoked turmoil in me, like 
the sight of the nipple clamps, I was strangely content 
with this state of affairs.  I didn't have to think, didn't 
have to decide, I just had to consent and exist within his 
power.  There were no worries or uncertainties, just 
arousal and his tender approval.  I was happy.

"I need to make one more stop before we head home," he told 
me and kissed me deeply once again.  Only once I was 
breathless and my knees were buckling beneath me did he 
release me and open the car door.  I slid into the 
passenger seat and, while he dropped our purchases in the 
trunk, closed my eyes and savored the pleasure of the 
moment.

Our final stop, it turned out, was at an adult toyshop.  
Aside from an assortment of books and more or less cheap 
fetish gear, edible body oils, lotions, and novelty 
condoms, there was a vast assortment of dildos, battery-
operated vibrators, ben-wah balls, and anal plugs--ranging 
from reasonably sized to absurdly huge.  I hung back, 
feeling as though every eye in the store was on me as 
Mulder browsed the merchandise.  Finally he selected three 
dildos. One was about as wide as the average human penis, 
with a long rubber handle and deep ribs, another was also 
human-sized, but without the ribs and instead of a handle 
had a flat circular base, and the last one appeared, to me, 
gargantuan, a good two inches in diameter.  It was larger 
than Mulder, who was himself generously endowed.  He also 
picked out a rubber battery-operated vibrator that was 
smaller and more portable than my Hitachi, if nowhere near 
as powerful.  Then he looked at me as I stared at the wall 
of toys.

"I want you to pick out two anal plugs for yourself," he 
told me firmly, in that low, commanding tone he used.  
Though he had spoken softly, so that none of the other 
customers in the shop could hear, I could feel my face 
turning crimson and wished wildly I had never allowed for 
the possibility of anal play on the damned survey.  Mulder 
was taking my every request very seriously.  I had never 
before felt so abjectly embarrassed and desperately aroused 
at the same moment.  If Mulder had touched me, I might have 
climaxed there in the store.  "One should be small, for 
training, and another larger, about as wide as my cock.  
I'll be at the front counter; bring them to me when you've 
chosen."

He kissed my forehead and stroked my cheek reassuringly, 
then carried his own selections over to the counter and 
struck up a low conversation with the female clerk there.  
If I had felt I was being stared at before, now I was 
certain I had a stadium audience observing as I stared in 
stupefaction at the selection of butt plugs.  Dear Jesus, 
how did I get into this situation?

Damn him for being a psychologist, anyway.  He knew exactly 
what my concerns about anal intercourse were without my 
even speaking them, so he deliberately made *me* pick out 
the anal toys.  This was a very calculated maneuver 
designed to ease my fears and help me grow accustomed to 
the idea of anal sex.  I sighed in helpless frustration.

There was nothing to be done but to choose and choose 
quickly, so I could bring a quick end to my own torment.  
One small and one Mulder-sized, he had instructed.  I 
scrutinized the selection carefully.  There seemed to be 
two varities of plugs.  Some were round and door-knob 
shaped, sometimes with multiple round "knobs" stacked atop 
one another.   I couldn't imagine using those--they started 
out quite wide.  The others were long and tapered, starting 
narrow and slowly widened to their fullest point, before 
dipping sharply to a stem about the size of the tip. At the 
bottom of the stem was a flat, elongated rubber base, so 
the plug could neither be expelled nor lost inside.  I 
finally chose one that was probably less than an inch in 
diameter at its widest point--certainly no more--and 
another closer to an inch and a half.  I carried the boxes 
to the front counter where Mulder had added a few more 
items.  He had added a large pump-bottle of lubricant 
called "Slippery Stuff" and--to my astonishment--a jumbo 
box of condoms.

I glanced at him questioningly, prepared to be hurt 
depending on what his rationale for needing the condoms 
was.  With my infertility, we hadn't felt any need for 
birth control and we were both very certainly STD-free.  
"For the toys," Mulder answered my unspoken question 
gently, knowing contraception was a sensitive issue with 
me.  "They'll make clean-up quicker and easier."

I smiled in relief and hung my head.  Actually, the idea 
was quite ingenious, and I wondered that I had never 
considered it with my Hitachi vibrator.  Of course, with 
the irregular shape of the attachment for the Hitachi, a 
condom might be difficult to use but it sure as hell beat 
the effort I put into cleaning the thing with the special 
disinfecting cleaner I had purchased from the Good 
Vibrations online store.

The toys were duly bought and paid for and deposited in the 
trunk of the car with the rest of the purchases we had 
made.  It was already late afternoon and would be well into 
the evening by the time we had dinner and reached 
Washington again.  I felt somewhat dismayed the day was 
fleeing as quickly as it had.  Mulder and I would have a 
very limited time in which to play tonight.  If we went 
back to his place, I would need to be up early in the 
morning to return to my own apartment and prepare for Mass 
and Sunday dinner with my mother.

Thinking of my mother was uncomfortable in the present 
situation, so I quickly dismissed that line of thought.  
Mulder unlocked and opened the passenger side door for me, 
and soon we were on our way back to D.C.


End of Part One of Five

Aphrodisia III - The Joy of Surrender (2 of 5)
Kristel S. Oxley-Johns
kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com


I looked at Scully in the passenger seat beside me as we 
made our way out of the city to the interstate.  She had 
been quiet and composed all morning, handling everything 
that had happened with remarkable aplomb.  In some ways she 
seemed almost disconnected, as though mentally she was 
somewhere else other than the proceedings, coming back only 
when I asked a question or did something which surprised 
her.  I'd half-expected her to cut and run when the reality 
of what we were doing sank in, thought she would become 
panicked as she had earlier in the week, but I saw none of 
that.  If she was unusually quiet, she also seemed 
unusually content, sitting beside me with a small, 
enigmatic smile on her face.

I was still feeling my way as to how far I could push her.  
For a moment, I was sure she would bolt in the adult 
toyshop when I had her choose the anal plugs.  The stunned 
expression on her face and the way her eyes had widened had 
made me almost take back the mandate, but I wouldn't do 
that without breaking out of the game, and I had to know 
how far she wanted or was willing to go with this.

At any rate, it was time to up the ante again.  Part of the 
responsibility I faced was to test and expand her limits, 
and I couldn't begin to do that until I knew where those 
limits lay.  Some of that I had been able to gauge from the 
survey, but more I would have to learn just by trial and 
error.  I just hoped the error part was kept to a minimum.

Not one to let an opportunity go to waste, I stopped at the 
first rest station we reached and pulled the bag of toys 
from the trunk.  I chose the long ribbed dildo and got back 
into the car, handing it to Scully along with the lubricant 
and a condom.  She stared at the items in her hand as 
though she had never seen them before, wide-eyed and 
surprised.  Before starting the car again, I leaned over 
and clasped her with one hand around the back of her head, 
closing around her hair, and pulled her in for a scalding 
kiss, thrusting my tongue roughly into her mouth.

"You're going to provide the entertainment while I drive," 
I said authoritatively after breaking the kiss.  "I want 
you to pull your skirt up, prepare the dildo, and then fuck 
yourself with it."

I clasped both her breasts in my hands and squeezed firmly, 
until she writhed and whimpered under the pressure.  I 
kissed her again, moving my tongue in and out of her mouth 
suggestively, sliding it over her lips.  If we hadn't been 
at a rest stop full of people, I would have pulled her into 
the back seat and fucked her that instant.  I'd spent the 
entire day in a low state of arousal, the tension spiking 
each time I imagined the possibilities implicit with each 
item and purchase.  I slid my hand between her legs and 
felt her clitoris, hard and engorged, throbbing with the 
beat of her heart.

Drawing a shaky breath and stamping down my arousal, I 
started the car and pulled back out onto the freeway.  From 
the corner of my eye, I saw Scully glance around nervously, 
then she lifted her hips and slid her skirt up until it was 
bunched around her waist, a short fold of the material 
covering her upper thighs.  Her hands trembled as she 
opened the box containing the dildo.  Unable to resist the 
availability of her sex, I thrust my right hand between her 
legs again and inserted my fingers into her slick sex.  I 
could smell her excitement, a heady, intoxicating scent 
that made the pressure in my groin increase exponentially.  
I thrust and withdrew my fingers quickly and roughly, 
massaging her clit, and then removed my hand and sampled 
her tangy-bitter flavor from my fingers.  She rolled a 
condom onto the dildo and slathered it with the lubricant, 
using the excess to supplement her own moisture between her 
legs.

I alternated between watching the road and glimpsing her in 
my peripheral vision when I checked my passenger side 
mirror.  I wished I could stop the car and watch the show, 
but this exercise was less for my visual pleasure than it 
was to test Scully's limits.  Forced exhibitionism had been 
another possibility she had allowed for on the survey.

She glanced around again, then leaned her seat back and 
spread her thighs.   Sliding one hand under the brief 
covering of the hem of her skirt, I could tell by the 
movement of her hand closer and closer to her body that she 
had spread her lips and guided the dildo inside her body.  
I imagined how the cool rubber would feel against her 
heated flesh, and heard her moan as it stretched her and 
the wide, deep ribs passed inside.  She paused a long 
moment, holding the handle close between the juncture of 
her thighs and panted slightly.  When she released the 
handle, the dildo began to slip out and I knew the muscles 
of her vagina were contracting around the object, working 
to expel it.  I'd felt those contractions around my own 
cock time and again.  She seized the handle once more and 
thrust it back into herself.

I was painfully turned on, My cock was straining against 
my pants in hopes of joining in the fun, and I realized 
that this car idea might not be the smartest one that I 
had ever had, so I concentrated on driving  carefully 
and safely, my cock throbbing against the stiff seam of the 
crotch of my jeans.  I took care to stay in the far right 
lane so no one could pass on her side of the car. After 
all, 
I didn't want her to be seen. My inner gentleman would 
cut off his gun hand before he allowed her to be 
humiliated, 
while my inner caveman wanted to drag her home, fuck her 
senseless, and guard her from the prying eyes of potential 
competitors.  

I had to wonder: was she aware of what I was doing; aware 
no one could actually see her?  Or did she still feel 
exposed with her skirt up around her thighs in the open car 
in the light of day?  Did the idea someone could see added 
to her excitement?  And she was excited.  I might not have 
been able to watch her closely, but I could hear her; her 
soft sighs and whispers filling the interior of the car as 
her musky scent did.

Did she know what I was doing?  Did she notice the pattern 
to what I asked of her; testing all the maybes and soft 
limits she had set forth on the survey, pushing the 
boundaries.  The items she had readily consented to would 
be held in reserve, for reward or to supplement these more 
questionable activities.  Did she like that?  Would she 
prefer it another way?  My Scully-radar said no, this was 
what she wanted.

It was presumptuous to assume to know what Scully was 
thinking, and sometimes I just flat-out couldn't.  
Sometimes she was a total mystery to me, but in this 
circumstance, I think I knew what she was feeling.  I 
realized so many of the things she had marked on the survey 
as a 2, meaning she might be willing to try them once, were 
actually things she *wanted* but hadn't been willing to 
admit to wanting.  She had, in essence, been asking me for 
a push to get her past that hesitation.  Somewhere in her 
life, she had either lost the confidence to ask for her own 
sexual wants and needs to be met, or perhaps as a result of 
any variety of factors from societal prejudice to a 
conservative upbringing, she'd never possessed that 
confidence to begin with.

Whatever it was, I'd noticed from the first time we'd made 
love that she wasn't comfortable making requests or 
demands--she would only speak of what she wanted when I 
prompted her to do so.  But by submitting to me, by 
following my commands, if she did things she wanted because 
I had ordered her to, because it pleased *me*, it was all 
right.  It gave her permission, of a sort, to have her 
desires met and enjoy them without the guilt and 
embarrassment she might have experienced in any other 
situation.

More important to me than anything was that I provide her 
with what she needed.  She'd lost so much and known so 
little happiness in the seven years we had been together 
that if there was anything I could give her, I wouldn't 
hesitate to do it.  If I could help her meet her own 
desires, I would do it happily.  The fact that the process 
was such an extreme turn-on for me was an added bonus.

And so, doing something completely removed from her normal 
self, she fucked herself with the dildo, where anyone who 
might have taken the time to glance in the car could have 
seen her.  She did it because in pleasing her Master, Kat 
had the freedom to do all the wild and uninhibited things 
Dana Katherine Scully would never dare.

She thrust the dildo enthusiastically into her body, hard 
and fast, thrusting with her hips in time to the rhythm of 
her hand and making feral, animal grunting noises.  Soon 
her other hand joined the play, rubbing her clitoris 
vigorously.  It seemed to go on forever, an exercise of my 
own torturous arousal as well as her submission, as she 
hovered on the brink of orgasm, close but not quite 
reaching release.  It wasn't until I encouraged her to 
bring herself off that she ground harder with her fingers 
on her clit and plunged the dildo into herself a few more 
times.  She soon came with a hoarse yell and strangled 
invective, shuddering and gasping.

She lay in the seat a long moment, seemingly stunned, her 
legs spread and her hands hanging limply by her thighs.  
The dildo hung loosely, still half inside her body, the 
handle sticking out from under the hem of her skirt.  She 
grasped the handle and withdrew the toy, then peeled the 
condom off and tossed it into the small trash-bag hanging 
from the cigarette lighter.  With a small pack of baby 
wipes she kept in her purse for spills and other messes, 
she cleaned herself as best she could, then shifted and 
pulled her skirt back down, before raising her seat again 
and glancing over at me.

By that point, I was quivering with my own desire, ready to 
come in my shorts.  I held the steering wheel in a white-
knuckled grip and clenched my jaw, fighting for control.  
When I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, I could 
see her eyeballing the bulging crotch of my jeans with a 
knowing expression.  If I hadn't wanted to re-enact "The 
World According to Garp" I would have demanded she do 
something about my condition.

"Thank you," I sighed.  "That was beautiful."

And it had been.  To see Scully so free, wild and 
uninhibited was the most incredible thing I'd ever 
experienced.  I'd waited years to experience this side of 
her, the side I knew she herself wasn't all that certain 
about.  She vacillated between acceptance of this part of 
her and amazement at it.  But I couldn't tolerate any sort 
of false modesty; if we were going to be lovers, we were 
going to be honest about it.

"You enjoyed that?"  It was barely a question--I knew the 
answer--but it required a response nevertheless.

"Yes," she murmured, blushing.

"Tell me what you enjoyed about it."

At that Scully laughed.  "Shouldn't that be obvious?" she 
smirked.

Of course.  She was a human being and human beings are 
built to enjoy being fucked--in Scully's mind, the 
physiological consideration would always come first.  But 
there had to be more than that--forcing someone to do 
something so private in such a public venue could be a 
potentially humiliating and degrading experience.  If she 
hadn't been aroused, she would have been miserable using 
that dildo on herself--and unless she had some kink toward 
humiliation I hadn't been aware of, which I doubted, she 
certainly couldn't have gotten off on it.  So what had 
transformed that activity from something that could have 
been uncomfortable and embarrassing in the extreme to a 
turn-on?

"It was dangerous," she finally admitted after a thoughtful 
silence.  "Anyone could have seen me and known.  But more 
than that was the fact you ordered me to do it.  Despite 
the fact I would have been mortified if anyone had seen, I 
had no choice but to obey."

I nodded.  "Good," was my only response and I subsided into 
a relieved silence.  She was still with me and she was 
still okay with what was happening.  I stroked her knee 
with one hand while driving with the other, occasionally 
lifting the hand to caress her face.  She kissed my hand 
softly, almost reverently, and rubbed her face against it 
almost as though seeking my caress.  The trip back to 
Washington passed in silence but it was a very peaceful, 
contented silence.

When we arrived at my apartment, we carried the bags inside 
and set them in a pile near the door, then turned our 
attention to dinner.  Since we had become lovers and 
subsequently begun spending a great deal of time together 
outside of work, I had taken to keeping my kitchen well 
stocked.  Scully had once confessed she had always assumed 
the reason I never seemed to keep any food around was a 
combination of laziness and an inability to cook, so I 
lived off take-out.  The truth was, I'm actually good cook, 
but when alone, I tend to be fairly indifferent to such 
basic inconveniences as the need for sleep and food.  Once 
Scully became a regular fixture in my apartment that 
changed, so now not only did I keep a fully supplied 
refrigerator, I made a great many of our meals--and very 
good ones, I might add--myself.

With the evening wearing on and our time growing short, we 
bypassed any sort of elaborate meal and just made cold-cut 
sandwiches.  Sliced smoked turkey and ham on cracked wheat 
bread with lettuce, tomatoes and Dijon mustard, to be 
exact.  Actually, Scully made the sandwiches at my command.  
I turned my attention to unpacking and some other 
preparations for the upcoming evening.  When we sat down 
with our sandwiches, I began going over the various items I 
had purchased with her.

She looked nervous when I pulled out the bag from the tack 
shop, and in an effort to reassure her, I explained the 
differences between the various implements we had bought.

The riding crop had a flat, roughly rectangular leather 
surface perhaps two inches wide, attached to a long 
flexible stem that ended in a contoured handle.  I knew 
from experience it would provide a light, stinging pain on 
the surface of the skin rather than and sort of deeper 
pain.

"This could potentially be used for some light erotic pain 
if I decide to go in that direction," I told Scully.  She 
watched wide-eyed as I stroked the flat leather surface.  
She blinked when I slapped it into my palm for effect.  The 
truth was, of my experiences with Phoebe, I remembered the 
riding crop rather fondly.  "It doesn't really hurt until 
it's wielded really hard.  But it can be used that way as 
well, for punishment, if necessary."

The quirt had two six-inch long leather strips that ended 
in points on a stem of stiff rope, more flexible than the 
crop's handle, but not quite floppy.  This, too, could be 
used for erotic pain, if only the tips of the leather 
strips are used.  They would sting, but nothing lasting or 
truly painful.  If the entire length of the strips were 
used, with enough force, they could burn like fire and 
leave wicked welts.

"This one I'll probably save for the most severe offenses," 
I said at last, showing her the signal whip.  The stem was 
like that on the crop, but a length of thin cord attached, 
which ended in a small knot.  Of the three, it would be the 
most painful.  It either didn't register, or barely stung 
when swung lightly, but it burned like fire when used with 
any force.  It made a wicked, high whistling sound when 
swung hard, and I knew from experience it could leave marks 
ranging from light welts to angry red ones.  Phoebe had 
broken my skin more than once, and I was certain I would 
never use it on Scully, but I didn't want her to know that.  
At most, I might use it for show, to evoke fear with the 
sight of it, but never to strike her.

Scully nodded mutely and solemnly.  We put the dinner 
dishes in the kitchen and then I pulled her into the living 
room and stripped her dress from her, the put the wrist and 
ankle cuffs on her.  It was time to get down to business.

*     *     *     *     *

I stared at Mulder as I stood naked before him.

"Undress me," he commanded.  My heart in my throat, I 
obeyed.  I tried to do so as carefully and reverently as I 
could.  Here, in this moment, he was my master, and he 
deserved no less.  He assisted me by moving when he had to, 
lifting his legs out of his shoes and stepping out of his 
pants, until he stood before me in all his nude glory.  He 
took my breath away; he was masculine beauty personified.  
I wanted to touch him and caress him, but I couldn't 
without his permission.  Instead I stared in awe until he 
sat on the sofa, leaning back, and tossed a pillow down at 
his feet.

He pulled on my hand.  When he spoke, he used that sexy, 
low, commanding voice that my entire body responded to.  
"Kneel down.  I want you to use your mouth and bring me 
off--I have plans tonight, and I'm won't be able to carry 
them out properly if I'm too hard to think straight."

My mouth went dry for a moment, and I felt myself growing 
wetter beneath my dress.  The muscles in my vagina clenched 
and released hungrily.  I knelt and leaned forward, then 
took his cock in my hands and allowed my lips to brush the 
flared head of his penis.

Just the feel of him in my hands and against my mouth, the 
musky scent of him, sent another wave of arousal through 
me.  Unthinkingly, I rubbed my face against his cock, much 
as I had his hand earlier, with tender reverence.  My one 
purpose here was to please him, and I would do so 
enthusiastically.  I wet my lips and then opened my mouth 
to take him in.

Running my tongue over and around the flared head of his 
penis, I could taste the salty flavor of his pre-ejaculate 
on my, and I thrilled at the knowledge I would taste a 
great deal more before I was done.  I sank my mouth down 
upon him, until his cock nudged my palate, and sucked hard 
as I drew back.  I settled into a rhythm on my downward 
plunge and subsequent withdrawal.  After a moment, I 
changed my pattern by stroking the sensitive backside on 
his penis with my tongue.  I released his cock to 
suck the separate globes of his sac gently, listening to 
his sighs and moan.  Returning my mouth to his cock, my 
hands remained on his balls, holding them, massaging them 
softly.  I sucked hard and fast on the head of his cock 
until he was gasping and grunting, thrusting helplessly 
with his hips.

In that moment, the fact I was doing this at his command, 
for his pleasure, didn't matter--I had the power.  I had 
the power to bring him to the precipice of release and then 
back off, until he had slid down from that peak, only to 
bring him back to it once more.  I could make this as long 
or as short as I wanted to; in that moment, he was mine.

I settled for a happy medium, for delaying his release 
meant delaying whatever else he had in mind for us this 
night.  I didn't want that, but neither did I want to 
shortchange him in any way, and so after teasing him a 
while, I did what I had done the previous weekend.  I drew 
a deep breath and consciously relaxed my whole body, then 
slid my mouth down on his cock.  When the head bumped my 
palate, I drew another breath and pressed forward 
insistently.  With a small, popping sensation, he slid 
deeper into my mouth until my lips were nestled in his 
pubic hair.

I heard his startled shout as though from a distance.  His 
hands were twined in my hair, not pressing my head but 
simply caressing me.  At this point last weekend, he had 
stopped me before his release.  I had never learned if I 
could repeat this action or continue to do so for any 
length of time.  This time, however, I had my orders; I was 
to bring him off.  There was no stopping, so I had free 
rein to explore this new skill.

I drew back until I felt that peculiar popping sensation 
again on the reverse motion, then moved my lips all the way 
back to the head, sucking on it lightly and taking care to 
breathe evenly and not tense up.  I drew in another breath 
and plunged downward, faster this time, not pausing when 
the head of his shaft hit my palate but pressing onward.  
Again his cock slid past the tightest point and into my 
throat.

I thus began to fuck him with my mouth, taking him all 
the way into my throat, drawing back past that tight 
point of pressure, and then taking a breath before plunging 
down again.  As I got used to the sensation, my gag reflex 
diminishing to the point where I was not concerned about 
choking, I picked up my pace.  I moved up and down rapidly, 
heedless of the fact I could feel the head of his cock 
swelling and hardening in my mouth.  When I felt the 
telltale flutterings against my bottom lip at the back of 
his cock, I withdrew, sucking hard as I brought my lips 
back up to engulf only the head.  With a shudder and a 
groan he exploded in my mouth, his hands gripping my head 
tightly.  I swallowed quickly and convulsively, trying to 
keep up with the rapidly repeated surges of his semen 
into my mouth.  Some dribbled out and back down the outside 
of his shaft to wet his springy hair and balls, and when 
the eruptions had subsided, I went to work cleaning that up 
too, my tongue and throat coated in his salty-bitter 
flavor.

"Thank you," he murmured, caressing my face weakly.  He 
leaned forward and kissed my forehead tenderly.  "That was 
wonderful."

I thrilled at his praise.  If my purpose had been to please 
him, then I had succeeded admirably.  He rose naked from 
the sofa and offered his hand to me to help me stand, then 
walked over to the table to retrieve the collar.  Despite 
how foreign it seemed, I could appreciate it as a beautiful 
object, artfully designed and constructed.  My heart 
pounded as he walked toward me and then placed it around my 
neck.

"Who are you?" he asked, as he had that morning.  I 
shivered with a combination of delight, arousal and a touch 
of fear.  The question had taken on a formal, ritualistic 
tone, as though I were taking a vow rather than making a 
statement.

"I'm Kat," I murmured.

"What does it mean to you when I put this collar on your 
neck?"

I was approaching something that bordered on religious 
ecstasy, sharp, painful and transcendent all at once.  I 
was surrendering myself to him, all of myself.  And he was 
claiming that ownership.

"It means I belong to you."  My voice wavered.  "You're my 
Master."

"Yes," he murmured.  "You are mine.  And do you acknowledge 
I can do anything with you I desire?"

My legs were weak and I trembled where I stood.  "Yes," I 
whispered.  The joy in that admission was so intense, I 
felt ready to cry.

"What's your safe-word?"

"Flukeman."

"Very good."  He gently stroked my face and hair, then ran 
his thumb over my cheekbone and lips.  When the pressure of 
his thumb on my lips increased, I opened my mouth, allowing 
him to thrust it inside.

"Is this mouth mine?" he asked huskily, mimicking 
intercourse by thrusting and withdrawing his thumb several 
times and spreading my saliva across my lips.

"Yes." Again, I could only whisper.  The more thoroughly he 
emphasized his dominance over me, the less capable I found 
myself of speaking loudly.  It would be inappropriate, 
disrespectful to presume to speak boldly in his presence.

His hands slid down my shoulders and over my breasts.  He 
closed his hands gently over them, kneading softly, 
tweaking the nipples with his fingers.  "And who do these 
breasts belong to?"

"You," I answered automatically.  Suddenly, his hands 
closed sharply on my flesh, painfully, and I cried out.  
Realizing my error, I amended my answer.  "They're yours, 
Master."

"Very good," he murmured.  I realized he didn't need to 
bark orders or speak harshly with me.  The  soft, calm 
murmur in his voice, alone, brooked no refusal and 
controlled me.  He pressed a kiss to the upper swell of 
each aching breast, then slid his hands down my waist and 
over my hips to cup my ass, massaging lightly.

"Who does this ass belong to?"

"You, Master."  I was proud to note there was no error in 
the response this time.

He stepped back slightly, and I could feel his hands 
stroking my body all over, warm against my bare skin.  At 
last, he stood behind me, one arm around my shoulder, 
playing with my breast, and the other sliding down my 
waist.  His chest was hard and hot against my back as the 
roaming hand threaded through my pubic hair and cupped my 
mons.

"And who does *this* belong to?" As he spoke, he thrust 
three long fingers into my sex and simultaneously ground 
his palm against my clitoris.  So heightened was my state 
of arousal I climaxed even as I cried, "You, Master!" in 
response.

I sagged weakly in his supporting arms, and he held my 
weight, stroking me again softly and lovingly.  The orgasm 
had been quick and hot, blazing through me and leaving me 
limp and stunned.  He pressed a warm kiss to my temple.  "I 
love you," he murmured.

This scene was the beginning of what would in subsequent 
weeks become a ritual for us.  Each Saturday as we assumed 
our roles of Dominant and submissive, he would demand from 
my own lips the admission that I belonged to him.  Not 
until I acknowledged this ownership and called him Master 
would he begin play, and then he would bring me to heights 
of passion I couldn't have imagined existed.

"Follow me," he instructed, then grabbed the bag of our 
purchases and led the way into the bedroom.

End of Part Two of Five

Aphrodisia III - The Joy of Surrender (3 of 5)
Kristel S. Oxley-Johns
kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com


Upon entering the bedroom, he reached into his nightstand 
drawer and withdrew the eye mask I had worn the previous 
week.  He slipped it over my eyes and, once again, I was in 
the dark.  The lack of sight heightened my other senses, so 
that I could hear Mulder's breathing as he moved around the 
bed.  He left me standing alone just inside the door for a 
long time while he worked.  Finally, he took my hand and 
guided me to the bed.

"In the center, on your back, with your arms spread wide 
over your head," he instructed.  I crawled onto the bed and 
positioned myself as he had commanded, and I felt him seize 
my wrist.  I heard a soft click, and then he released my 
wrist only to capture the other in the same manner.  When I 
tugged experimentally, I found he had secured my cuffs so 
that they limited my range of motion, allowing each arm to 
move perhaps six inches up or down, but leaving no 
possibility of escape.  Thus secured, he instructed me to 
lift my hips so he could slide two thick pillows beneath 
them.  Judging from the rough texture against my skin, he 
had spread a towel over them.  He told me to brace my feet 
apart with my knees bent, exposing my sex to him.  I felt 
something rub against my hips and sides and shoulders, and 
then I heard two more clicks.  The ankle cuffs had been 
secured from the head of the bed, making it impossible to 
extend my legs or squeeze them together.

I drew a deep breath, trying to assuage the nervousness I 
felt.  Mulder spent a long moment caressing me and 
murmuring reassuringly, then his hands closed over my 
breasts.  He leaned over me from between my thighs and I 
could feel his waist rubbing against the wetness between my 
legs.  I shifted my pelvis, trying to grind against him, 
but with my legs secured there wasn't a great deal I could 
do.

"Stay still," he commanded sharply, and I immediately 
halted my movements.  He suckled my breasts for a long 
while, until I could feel myself relaxing and enjoying the 
pleasant sensations that ran through me as his lips pulled 
on my nipples one after the other.  He took his time until 
I was calm and pliant beneath his touch.

"I'm going to place the nipple clamps on you," he told me 
sedately.  "Without using my fingers, I won't be able to 
tell how much pressure I'm applying, so you must talk to 
me.  I'll be watching your reactions, but if I go past what 
you can bear, I want you to tell me, all right?"

"Yes, Master," I murmured, feeling oddly placid in the face 
of his announcement that he willfully intended to inflict 
pain upon me.

He sucked on my nipple for a moment longer and then 
withdrew.  A second later, he held my breast in his hand 
while something cold and tight closed over my nipple.  
Although immediately uncomfortable, the pain was no 
unbearable.  I squirmed slightly, then relaxed into the 
sensation.  I tried to focus on my breathing.  A second 
later the pressure tightened and I gasped.

He didn't tighten the clamp again, but instead lifted the 
other breast and set the second clamp upon it and 
tightened it.

"I'm going to leave the clamps like this for now," he told 
me, stroking the skin of my abdomen and thighs lightly.  "I 
want to just look at you nipples for a while.  They're 
beautiful like that," he murmured, "dark and swollen, with 
the silver clamps glittering against them.  This might 
become one of my favorite sights," he said in a teasing 
tone.  The unspoken message, of course, was that he 
intended to use them in the future, an announcement to 
which my body responded with another rush of arousal.

I nodded, unable to answer.  Though he hadn't tightened the 
clamps, with prolonged wear they were steadily growing more 
uncomfortable.  I now had to force myself to resist the 
urge to struggle against them.

That was when Mulder's hand fell on my exposed sex and 
began to caress my wet folds.  I mewled softly, the 
pleasure added atop the pain nearly overloading my senses.  
I was also keenly aware that, tied as I was, I was 
completely open and vulnerable to him. I could do nothing 
to cover or shield myself against his intentions.  My knees 
could fall together, but with my feet bound separately, 
that wasn't much cover, and they could be easily pushed 
apart again.  One finger slipped into my canal and moved in 
slow, lazy circles, gently thrusting in and out.

"Ohhh," I moaned, wanting more, needing more.

"What?" Mulder asked softly.  "Tell me what you're 
feeling."

"Please--give me--more," I pleaded breathlessly.  The 
insistent and unyielding ache in my nipples was all but 
forgotten.  All I could think of was the need to be filled.

"More what?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.  
"More fingers?"  Even as he asked, he slipped a second 
finger in with the first and began to fuck me with them.

"Yesss..." I hissed with pleasure, feeling my muscles 
contract and release around his fingers.  Though I wriggled 
and tried to thrust into his movements, he refused to let 
his pace be rushed.

"Oh, God," I whimpered after a moment of this exquisite 
torment.  "Please, more..."

He didn't tease me, but instead added a third finger and 
began thrusting them quickly and firmly into my body.  "Oh, 
God! Oh! Yes!" I cried, tossing my head from side to side.  
This is what I needed--to be fucked and fucked hard.  I 
needed it, needed to ease this burgeoning pressure in my 
belly, needed to come...

Just as I thought I might be approaching that point, Mulder 
suddenly withdrew his fingers and I moaned in dismay.  As 
the pleasure of being filled faded, the pain of the clamps 
around my nipples increased, and I whimpered, biting my 
bottom lip in an effort to resist the unrelenting ache.  At 
that moment something cold and thick pressed against my 
opening, and I realized it was the large dildo he had 
purchased earlier in the day.

"Ohhhh!" My moan started softly and increased in volume as 
the simulated cock stretched and filled me.  It was larger 
than Mulder, larger than anyone I had ever known, and the 
pressure was incredible.  I felt every inch of the toy 
sliding into me, felt myself contracting around it, my 
tunnel made tighter by the tension created by the pain in 
my nipples.  While it didn't hurt, the sensation was 
enormously intense and I groaned, my head thrashing on 
the pillow.

He slowly withdrew the dildo and just as slowly slid it 
back in.  I was now grateful he wasn't rushing the 
movements.  Surely being penetrated quickly or roughly by 
something that size when I was unaccustomed to it could 
easily be painful.  I drew deep breaths, trying to relax 
and enjoy the slow fucking, enjoy the pressure of being 
filled completely.  As he thrust the dildo into me, Mulder 
began to pull with slow, steady tugs on the chain 
connecting the two nipple clamps, adding to the tension on 
my nipples.  It didn't take much force to increase the 
ache.  I couldn't be sure which sensation was more intense, 
the fucking or the pain.

"Oh, God!" I gasped as Mulder pulled harder.  I was ready 
to cry out, to ask him to stop when he released the chain 
abruptly and I sighed in relief.  The throbbing pain in my 
nipples was relentless now, and it was all I could feel.  
Even the fullness in my sex came a distant second.

"I'm going to take off the clamps now," Mulder said with a 
hint of warning in his voice, and I understood why a moment 
later when he released the clamp on my right.  Pain flooded 
into my nipple and I cried out sharply.  Mulder rubbed the 
nipple softly with one hand while he held the dildo inside 
me with the other.  When the pain had subsided to a dull 
ache, he released the other nipple from the clamp.  It was 
just as painful and unexpected--I would have thought the 
removal of the clamps would be the least painful part of 
wearing them, rather than the most.  My nipples were 
unbearably tender and Mulder sucked on them softly as he 
continued gently fucking me with the rubber dildo.  Mulder 
spent several long moments caressing me all over.  He felt 
my fingers to check the circulation and then kissed me 
softly.

"How are you doing?" he asked, as ever conscientiously 
aware of my wellbeing.

How was I doing?  He didn't honestly expect speech, did he?  
I felt relaxed and languid, the tension from the excessive 
stimulation having left me limp.  I managed to mutter a 
satisfactory response to his questions.  Satisfied, his 
kisses trailed down my body to my sex, and he leisurely 
stroked my folds with his lips and tongue.  When his tongue 
stroked my perineum, I immediately pulled my knees to my 
chest so rather than bracing flat on the bed, my feet were 
in the air.  They were held in place by the resistance of 
the bindings attached to the cuffs on my ankles from the 
head of the bed.  The effect was similar to being in 
stirrups.  The position exposed me even more than I had 
been before, but it also provided Mulder with better access 
to my sex.

"That's good," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down 
the backs of my thighs, massaging lightly.  He continued to 
lick me, lapping at my juices, not rushing or even making 
any particular effort to stimulate me, but taking his time 
and steadily obliterating any residual tension.  He moved 
from my clitoris to my labia to my perineum and back again, 
repeating the sequence.  I was floating peacefully on the 
pleasure of the sensations until the moment when his tongue 
dipped further back and caressed my anus.

I stiffened instinctively and tried to pull away from the 
foreign sensation.  I tried to put my feet back down on the 
bed, only to find his hands firmly gripping my thighs and 
holding them open and pressed back to my chest.

"Don't move," he instructed firmly and went back to lapping 
at me.  I quivered with tension, my relaxation of a moment 
before now a distant memory.  For a long time, he made no 
effort to repeat that particular caress, and some of my 
tension eased, but then he did it again.  Rather than a 
quick stroke of his tongue, he lingered, licking, circling, 
pressing against the muscle.  I clenched my fists above my 
head and fought not to struggle.  This was what I had 
wanted, what I had been obliquely asking for, what I had 
fantasized about for over twenty years.  But I had also 
dreaded the possibility, particularly because of the agony 
I knew shouldn't be there but automatically expected to 
come with it.  Although what Mulder was doing to me didn't 
hurt in the slightest, I had the overwhelming urge to 
resist it.  I tried to put my knees together, but his large 
hands forcibly kept them separated.

Mulder held my legs aloft by bracing his arm crosswise 
behind both my thighs and used the other hand to rub 
lightly over my skin; my breasts, my waist, my hips and 
thighs all received his impartial and reassuring caresses.  
He wanted me to relax, to surrender to this as I had so 
many other things even in the last twenty-four hours, and I 
made a conscious effort to do just that.  This was Mulder, 
and he was the last man on earth who would do anything to 
harm me.  Mulder would protect me.

With a few last tender caresses, Mulder pulled away from me 
and with relief I let my feet fall back to the mattress.  I 
felt him moving to the side of the bed and rustling through 
the bag.  Then I heard a sound I would have recognized 
anywhere; the sound of a latex glove being donned.  I 
hadn't seen him grab gloves, but considering we both tended 
to keep them around, I didn't need to wonder where he'd 
found it.

Then Mulder was lying beside me on the bed, nuzzling my 
neck and hair softly, murmuring gently in my ear.

"I'm going to release you now--" the words were spoken in 
conjunction with the sound of the clips attached to the 
rings on my wrist and ankle cuffs being released, "--and 
you're going to roll over onto your stomach.  That's good, 
now lift your hips--" the towel-covered pillows that had 
been beneath my backside before were now underneath my hips 
and lower belly, lifting my ass above my body, "--good.  
Now relax..."

He began to knead my shoulders with his hands, massaging 
the tension from them.  I could feel the rubber glove on 
the right hand.  His hands worked their way inch by inch 
down my back, taking time to linger at each tense muscle 
they found.

"You know I love you, don't you?" He asked softly, 
intently.

"Yes, of course," I answered, and I did.  There was nothing 
else on this planet I was more confident of.

"Good." He kissed my back between my shoulder blades.  "You 
know how to stop me if you need to.  Just use your safe-
word," he reminded me.  "Now I want you to focus on your 
breathing, in through your nose and out through your mouth, 
and no matter what else happens, center your attention on 
that."

He kissed his way down my back to the base of my spine, 
after which he began to knead my buttocks as he had the 
muscles of my back, soothing and relaxing me.  I did as he 
had instructed, focusing on my breathing, trying to ignore 
what else he might do.  Not that I had any prayer of 
succeeding, but at least if I tried to focus my attention 
on something other than his actions, I might prevent 
tensing up.

Even as Mulder continued to stroke the skin of my back 
softly with his left hand, I felt a finger of his right 
hand slip into the crevice between my buttocks.  Covered in  
something cold and wet, it circled my anus, lightly at 
first, then with increasing pressure, not entering me, but 
merely rubbing, massaging and loosening the muscles just as 
he had relaxed those of my back.  Despite how odd it felt, 
the sensation was far from unpleasant.  In fact, 
as I grew accustomed to the feeling, I rather enjoyed it.  
Just as I was thinking I might want more, Mulder's finger 
withdrew from me and then returned with another cold 
glob of lubricant.  I clenched my hands unconsciously and 
Mulder saw the action.

"Focus on your breathing," he instructed again, and with 
the finger of his right hand still against my anus, he 
reached with his left hand to physically unfurl my fingers 
and massage my hands.  I drew a deep breath and consciously 
relaxed my muscles as best I could.

"That's good," he murmured.  "My purpose here isn't to 
create any discomfort, so if something hurts, let me know."

I nodded silently, my face against the soft sheet covering 
the mattress.  Seconds later, Mulder's finger pressed 
inward.

He moved slowly, not rushing the motion but easing his way 
past the muscle until he was finally inside.  I released 
the breath I had unconsciously been holding and endeavored 
to breathe slowly and regularly. I could feel my muscles 
working to expel his finger, but he held it motionless 
within me, giving me time to adapt to the feeling.  Again, 
I found myself surprised by how good it felt.  To my 
amazement, I felt my vagina spasm.  A steady stream of 
wetted my labia and dripped from my pubic hair onto the 
towel beneath me.

Mulder began to move his finger in slow circles, spreading 
the lubricant and working to further open the tight ring of 
muscle.  In the absence of the pain I had feared, relaxing 
became easier and required less conscious effort.  I lay 
pliant beneath his caressing left hand and probing right 
hand, breathing slowly and regularly as he had instructed, 
feeling my irrational fear abate somewhat.

Slowly, carefully, he withdrew the finger from my body.  My 
anus spasmed and tightened in its absence, but soon after I 
felt two gloved fingers pressing against my rear opening, 
cold and slick with lubricant.  As he had with the first 
finger, he rubbed the muscle firmly with both fingers, 
loosening it in slow circles.  The two together seemed so 
much larger than just the one, so I found myself tensing up 
again, giving in to my nervousness.

In his calm, confident voice Mulder repeated his entreaty 
for me to relax, massaging more firmly with his two fingers 
and slowly, very carefully pressing forward.  They began to 
push past the muscle in a steady, unyielding motion.  At 
last, his fingers passed the barrier and slipped into my 
body.  With his fingers inserted up to the second set of 
knuckles, the pressure grew uncomfortable and I gasped.

"Does that hurt?" Mulder asked, his tone intent.

"Not...quite..." I replied in a whisper, my body tense once 
more.  It didn't hurt, but it was intense, more intense 
than I felt I could bear.  I had expected he would withdraw 
the fingers.  Instead he held them where they were, not 
continuing forward but instead doing as he had done when he 
inserted the first finger, moving in slow circles to widen 
the opening and relax the muscle.  Once my tension had 
eased, he pressed forward once more, and the fingers 
slipped in the rest of the way.

"Oh!" I cried, taken by surprise at how full the feeling 
was.  It didn't hurt, but it was tight, with an odd 
pressure, pleasant in a way I had difficulty cataloguing 
even to myself.

"Talk to me," Mulder commanded firmly.

"It doesn't hurt," I hastened to assure him.  "It's 
just...intense...I don't know how to describe it..." I was 
at a loss for words to explain the feeling.  I was also 
aware of Mulder pressing his fingers into me fully had sent 
a concurrent wave of moisture over my sex.  However odd or 
foreign the sensation was, there was no denying I was 
incredibly turned on by it.

Slowly, Mulder began to withdraw the fingers, and I 
whimpered at the retreating feeling of fullness.  But 
instead of pulling them out completely this time, as I 
thought he might, he pressed inward again and in that 
manner began very slowly and carefully fucking me with 
them.  The feeling was amazing.  Whatever I had expected, 
this intense combination of pleasure and pressure hadn't 
been it.  I moaned softly.

"Tell me what you're feeling," Mulder said.

"It feels...good," I admitted breathlessly.  "I don't...I 
can't...it's amazing..."

I felt greedy, wanted more, but Mulder was unrelenting in 
his slow, steady determination.  The moment the lubricant 
he had used began to feel tacky, he gently withdrew his 
gloved fingers, stroking my buttocks very softly with his 
bare left hand.

"I'm going to try the small plug and then we're going to 
stop this for tonight," he advised me.  I wasn't sure 
whether I was relieved or disappointed.  "We'll have time 
for more some other weekend."

He pulled away from me for a long moment, and I could hear 
the soft sounds he made preparing the toy for use, opening 
a condom and rolling it on, and the slick, wet sound of 
lubricant being smeared liberally over it.  I felt cold and 
awkward lying there on my belly while he worked, 
embarrassingly exposed with my ass in the air.  The 
bedclothes against my tender nipples were rough and 
scratchy.  Then he was back, caressing me with his left 
hand while applying lubricant to my loosened anus with his 
right.

"Same rules apply," he told me.  "If you feel any pain, 
tell me immediately, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, and I felt the cold, softly rounded 
end of the anal plug press against my opening.  With slow, 
unyielding insistence he pushed forward with the object, 
which at first slipped in easily, then gradually met with 
more resistance as it grew wider.  I forced myself to 
relax, to breathe, and just as the pressure became so 
intense I expected pain, there was the tiniest popping 
sensation and a very slight burning pain.  The toy was 
completely inserted, seated firmly within my body with its 
narrow stem holding it in place between the wide, flat base 
and flared shaft.

"How are you doing?" Mulder asked.

"F--Good," I replied, biting back the "fine" that had 
sprung automatically to my lips.  "There was a second when 
it burned, just a bit, but now it's okay."

Better than okay, really.  The marvelous sensation of 
fullness was back, and though I could feel my muscles 
contracting around the toy, working to expel such a foreign 
object, it was secure in its position and would require 
more than those autonomic contractions to be pushed out.  I 
was also unbelievably wet by this time, unsure whether the 
excessive natural lubrication was a normal physiological 
response to anal penetration or just my own excitement.  
Either way, the result was extreme.

"Are you comfortable?"

Was I?  I wasn't sure comfortable wasn't the word to 
describe my condition, but neither was uncomfortable.  It 
was an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one.  How did I 
explain that to Mulder without causing him to think I was 
in discomfort?

"For the most part," I said at last.  I could feel Mulder's 
hesitation at the ambiguous answer and continued, "It's 
strange, but not in a bad way."

My answer seemed to satisfy him.  I heard Mulder remove the 
latex glove from his hand and a moment later he was 
fingering my obscenely wet folds.  I was thankful he had 
used the glove; like the condoms, it made cleanup easier.  
He could change from anal to vaginal contact without having 
to leave me long enough to wash his hands to prevent 
infection.

"You seem to be enjoying it," he commented idly, delving 
into my well-lubricated vagina with his fingers and slowly 
moving them in and out.  I mewled softly.  The feel of his 
fingers inside me in addition to the pressure of the plug 
was phenomenal.  My internal muscles clutched eagerly at 
the digits.

He added a third finger and I felt full to bursting.  I was 
to have him inside me and began to plead for just that.

"I need you...fuck me," I whimpered softly against the 
mattress.

"I don't think I heard you," Mulder replied, a hint of 
teasing in his tone.  "What was that?"

"I need you to fuck me...now..." I begged.

Suddenly, a sharp crack sounded, coinciding with a sting on 
my buttock.  I screamed, more out of surprise than pain.  

"You're forgetting your manners, Kat," he murmured calmly 
in my ear.  "What do you say?"  His words were simultaneous 
with his fingers plunging hard and fast into my slick 
canal.

I cried out loudly.  "Oh, God! Please, Master, fuck me!"

"That's better," he said softly.  "Turn over."

End of Part Three of Five

Aphrodisia III - The Joy of Surrender (4 of 5)
Kristel S. Oxley-Johns
kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com


I obeyed immediately, conscious of the burning skin on the 
cheek of my ass where he had slapped me as it rubbed 
against the towel beneath me.  The change of position also 
changed the pressure of the anal plug still lodged in my 
body.  With the pillows beneath my backside pushing against 
the base the pressure was even more intense and I moaned 
softly.

I spread my legs without being asked and could feel Mulder 
crawl between them.  I was keenly aware he would be fucking 
me with the plug still in, and the idea I would be filled 
simultaneously in both places was unbearably arousing.

Mulder jerked the pillows out from beneath my ass, and a 
second later his hands closed around my calves and dragged 
me roughly down the bed.  I exclaimed loudly as the motion 
jostled the plug, but Mulder was already positioning 
himself between my legs, pushing my knees up and apart and 
guiding his cock into my body.

He gave a sharp thrust and we both yelled in unison.  I 
hadn't thought I could possibly feel any fuller, but he 
proved me wrong.  The dual pressure was exquisite. I 
felt Mulder's breath against my face, harsh and ragged 
through his teeth as he held still for a long moment, 
allowing me to adjust.  "I didn't think you could be any 
tighter," he hissed against my ear.  "You feel incredible."

"God, yes..." I moaned.  His weight was laying full upon me 
and his chest pressed hard against my over-sensitized 
nipples.  He gave me a deep, probing kiss, his hand 
clenched in my hair, and began to pump.

He wasn't gentle, and I didn't want him to be.  There was 
too much desperate arousal involved to be gentle.  Once he 
was certain I wasn't in distress, he began to thrust into 
me with a force that stopped just short of being brutal.  
He gripped my breast with one hand and squeezed the flesh 
until I cried out, overwhelmed for a moment by the 
combination of pain and pleasure and God only knew what 
else.  Mulder ran his hands down my arms and pulled them up 
over my head.  He held them there with one large hand 
around both my wrists.  The other hand began to 
pinch my nipple.  They were still tender from the clamps, 
so the pressure he applied soon crossed the threshold from 
pleasure to pain.  I whimpered, biting my lip and 
squirming, trying to pull my breast from his grasp.  All I 
succeeded in doing was causing myself more pain by pulling 
against his unrelenting grip.

He changed nipples and began inflicting the same torment 
upon the second as he had the first.  I went from making 
soft sounds of pain to crying out, to pleading with him to 
stop, to struggling to get away.  He would release me for a 
moment only to seize me and begin the process again.  My 
cries went unheeded and through it all, he continued 
fucking me, his endurance seemingly unending.  Long, deep 
thrusts filled me so completely I thought I couldn't bear 
it, until he withdrew, and the resulting emptiness was so 
much worse.

Amidst the cries and pleas and moans came the realization 
he was exercising the rights I had freely given him, to 
possess my body and do with it what he pleased. I was his 
to use as he wished; if it pleased him to pinch my nipple 
until I cried and begged for mercy then he had the freedom 
to do just that.  With that knowledge came a calm sense of 
acceptance.  My body still struggled and cried out against 
the unbearable excess of stimulation, still fought against 
his painful grip and the overwhelming pleasure of his 
thrusts, but somewhere outside it all, my mind observed 
with satisfaction that this was what I had wanted, this 
complete surrender of myself.  I felt euphoric; he could do 
this to me because I had asked him to do it.

He released my nipple and slid his arms behind my legs, 
pummeling me violently.  He pulled my head back with his 
hands in my hair and placed hard, sucking kisses and love-
bites along my neck, shoulders and breasts.  With my legs 
on his upper arms, my pelvis was tilted so each of his 
thrusts bumped hard against the anal plug, adding an 
entirely new depth to what I was experiencing.  I was dimly 
aware of the fact I was yelling each time the head of his 
penis collided with my cervix.  He bit the upper surface of 
my breast hard and I came with a scream, shuddering and 
crying at the intensity of it.  I could feel tears of sheer 
ecstasy wetting the mask over my eyes.  I heard myself 
chanting his name in a breathless litany, but it wasn't 
Mulder I was calling upon.

It was Master.

He brought one hand down to brush my clitoris, and that was 
all it took to send me over the edge again, hard on the 
heels of the first orgasm, shrieking my pleasure.  My 
throat was dry and hoarse from my exclamations, but I could 
not have remained silent if my life had counted upon it.  
Inside me I felt his penis swell and harden and knew he was 
approaching his own precipice.  Perspiration dripped from 
his face and body onto my skin, his shoulders sliding 
slickly against the backs of my calves, and as he gave his 
final hard, jerky thrusts he ground his hand hard against 
my clitoris.  I screamed again, lights exploding behind my 
eyes.  I might have lost consciousness, or simply gone so 
far from myself that when I returned, my Master had already 
roused himself and was wiping me gently with a damp that I 
couldn't recall him retrieving.  While I was in that 
boneless state, he rolled me over and slowly withdrew the 
plug from my ass.  I felt incredibly empty and bereft, the 
muscles of my anus contracting as they tightened again.  He 
gently and carefully cleaned the excess lubricant from 
between my buttocks and then he was lying beside me.  He 
pulled the mask from my eyes and I met Mulder's tender, 
familiar gaze.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, concerned.  He 
wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly, kissing my 
temple and hair.

I nodded slowly, wetting my dry lips with my tongue.  I 
couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything more 
than lie there in that incredible moment of exhausted well-
being.  He kissed my lips, and somehow I mustered the 
energy to lift a hand to stoke his face as I kissed him 
back.

"I love you," I murmured, feeling waves of adoration for 
him wash through me.  I had never suspected it was possible 
to feel this way, to feel this combination of euphoria and 
satiety.  I'd never experienced such amazing pleasure or 
complete contentment.  Now I had and it was because of him, 
because I trusted him enough to give myself over and let 
him bring me to this wondrous place. Without him, I would 
never have known this kind of rapture.

He sat up and began unfastening the cuffs from my wrists 
and ankles.  I lay still while he completed the task.  When 
he started to remove the collar, however, I moved away from 
him, frowning in disappointment at its loss.  "I would like 
to wear it for the night, if you'll let me," I said and 
Mulder gave me a soft smile.

"I'd planned to put it back on after our bath," he 
reassured me and rose from the bed.  "I think we both could 
use one."

I crawled off the bed only to find my knees wobbled when I 
tried to stand on them.  Without a word, Mulder picked me 
up and carried me into the bathroom.  At any other time, I 
would have found the action to be macho posturing, He-Man 
slinging the helpless little woman around.  But not now.  
In light of what I had just experienced, I felt pretty 
helpless, and I was keenly aware of his superior strength.  
This man had completely possessed me, and if he wanted to 
carry me to the bath, so be it.  Just as he possessed me, 
he also gave to me his strength and protection and in that 
moment I was not ashamed to accept it.

He eased me to my feet once we were in the bathroom, and I 
sat gingerly on the covered toilet while he ran the bath 
water.  The tub really wasn't large enough for two people, 
but it didn't matter.  He filled it halfway then held me 
steady as I stepped into it and sat, pulling my knees up 
and sliding forward to make room behind me.  Mulder sat 
down at my back, his legs bracketing me on either side, and 
with a sigh I leaned back against his chest.

He lifted his wet hands to massage my shoulders gently.  It 
felt pleasant though the gesture was probably wasted--there 
wasn't a tense muscle in my body.  "How are you feeling?" 
he murmured close to my ear.

"Wonderful," I replied enthusiastically, closing my eyes.  
All I wanted was to be close to him, to be surrounded by 
his presence.  If I could have crawled into him and stayed 
there, I would have.  Of all the things Mulder had been to 
me over the years, in that moment, he was everything.  I 
was his, body and soul, and happy to be that way.  I'd 
never felt anything like that for anyone in my life, but 
rather than frightening me, the feeling elated me.  In 
surrendering to him, I was for the first time in my life 
completely and utterly free to be the woman I wanted to be.

Most amazing to me was that calm place of acceptance I had 
reached in the middle of everything.  He had been hurting 
me, and I had been begging him to stop, crying out from the 
pain, yet I hadn't wanted it to end, no matter how 
unbearable I had found it.  I didn't understand what had 
transformed that combination of pain and pleasure to such 
utter euphoria, or how I could have simply existed in it 
and accepted it, but I didn't want it to change.  If I felt 
free, it was because I had relinquished myself and my body 
so utterly that what I was feeling--pain, pleasure, 
whatever--didn't matter, so long as I was feeling it and it 
was Mulder who was the source of the sensation.

He laughed and hugged me tightly, kissing my wet shoulders.  
He picked up a washcloth he had thrown into the tub and 
lathered it with a bar of soap.  He began by washing 
my arms, then moved on to my shoulders and back, and 
finally my chest.  The rough washcloth against my tender 
nipples made me whimper.  He dropped the washcloth on my 
lap and ran his soap-slicked hands over my breasts instead.

Looking down, I could see the dark red love-bites on the 
upper slopes of my breasts.  He had, of course, avoided 
anything that couldn't be hidden under a collar.  It 
didn't matter.  I saw these marks with which he had branded 
me as badges of honor against my pale, lightly freckled 
flesh, trophies of my submission and his ownership, just as 
the collar was.  They would linger for days, mute reminders 
of who I had been in this glorious 24-hour period, long 
after I had gone back to being Scully.  The thought made me 
deliriously happy.

After thoroughly soaping and rinsing my breasts, Mulder 
retrieved the washcloth to wash my legs and then between 
them, taking care not to unduly chafe my swollen flesh.  We 
were silent through most of this endeavor, enjoying the 
peaceful time together.  He was tender and affectionate, 
but still somehow indubitably in charge.  It was the sort 
of control one might exercise over a beloved pet, caring 
for me and tending to me, and I relished it.

When he had finished, I relaxed against him again for a 
long moment.  He held me until the water began to grow 
tepid, then pushed me gently off his chest.

"I want you to dry off and go change the sheets on the 
bed," he instructed.  "Put a glass of water on the night 
stand for me.  I'll be in when I've finished bathing."

Climbing out of the tub, I grabbed a large, fluffy bath 
towel for my body and another for my hair and dried myself 
in front of his admiring eyes.  Wrapping the second towel 
turban-like around my head, I walked naked from the 
bathroom, stopping when I'd reached the bedroom to retrieve 
and don my oversized button-down pajama-top and a clean 
pair of underwear from my overnight bag before fetching 
clean sheets from the linen closet and making the bed.  I 
noticed he had used the parachute cord from last week to 
tie around the legs of the bed-frame and from there had 
tied carabiner clips to the ends of the cords.  It had 
been those to which he had attached my wrist and ankle 
cuffs.  When had he done that?  While I prepared dinner?  
While I had made breakfast or showered that morning?  While 
I had stood blindfolding by the bedroom door?  Had he 
anticipated and planned his actions so thoroughly as to 
prepare in a manner that rendered the actual event 
seamless.

Rather than removing everything, I neatly bundled the 
cords and tucked them under the bed next to the legs to 
which they were tied.  I stuffed the old linen in his 
laundry hamper and padded barefoot into the kitchen to 
fulfill Mulder's request for a glass of water.  By the time 
I returned to the bedroom, he was out of the tub and 
standing in the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom, 
his head bent, rubbing his hair vigorously with a towel.  
Beads of water still dappled his skin and, overcome with an 
irresistible impulse, I walked over to him and licked a few 
droplets from his shoulder.

His head emerged from the towel, a smile on his lips as he 
looked at me.  The smile quickly transformed into a dark 
frown, however, and I stepped back, worried.

Staring at me, Mulder continued to dry his body with the 
towel, then dropped it on the floor and stood there.  He 
didn't move, but only looked at me.  Several long moments 
passed before I realized he was staring at the pajama top 
I was wearing.  Only then did I recall his injunction 
against my wearing clothes without his permission.

"Oh!" My hands flew to the collar of my shirt and I began 
unbuttoning it rapidly, my fingers unsteady.  I quickly 
doffed the shirt and tossed it into the corner, followed 
soon thereafter by the panties.  "Sorry," I mumbled, 
hanging my head.

He looked pensive and unhappy for a long moment, still 
watching me silently, and I wondered what the consequence 
for this infraction of the rules would be.  It had been 
stupid of me to be so careless and forgetful.  I was 
normally more mindful of things.

Finally, without speaking, Mulder crossed to the bedside 
table and lifted the collar off it.  He stared at it for a 
long moment with a troubled frown, then tucked it in the 
drawer of the nightstand and crawled into the freshly made 
bed, folding his hands behind his head and staring 
thoughtfully at the ceiling.  I found myself gazing at the 
drawer into which the collar he had to place on my neck 
after our bath had disappeared.

I had been proud to wear the collar, pleased by what it 
represented.  I had looked forward to wearing it for the 
rest of the night, until we awoke tomorrow and our time in 
this game was over.  I understood the message he was 
sending by putting it away; if I could so heedlessly 
disregard his rules, then perhaps I wasn't ready to handle 
his ownership of me.  I found the thought unbearable and 
approached the bed with trepidation.

"You're not going to put the collar on me?" I asked, trying 
not to let my voice tremble.  I might not deserve the 
collar, but I still wanted it.

He met my eyes for the first time.  "To wear the collar, 
you have to accept my rules," he said softly.

"I did.  I do.  I just--forgot," I said lamely.  It was no 
excuse; his rules should be more important to me than to be 
so easily forgotten.

He seemed to think for a moment.  "You have a choice," he 
said finally.  "We can either leave the collar in the 
drawer until next week and see if you can remember the 
rules then, or you can accept my punishment, and we'll put 
it back on for the rest of the night."

It was my choice.  I had told him he had the right to 
punish me, but I had been sure it would never be necessary.  
I had planned to be the ideal submissive.  But I had 
screwed up, and now he was asking again, asking if I was 
*sure* this was what I wanted.  If I crossed that line, I 
had to be prepared for the fact that he wouldn't ask for 
confirmation again in the future.  Perhaps he even needed 
an out for himself, if I chose to provide it.

I could choose not to accept the punishment, but I wouldn't 
wear the collar then.  I wouldn't be *his*.

"What punishment?" I asked softly.  So far, the only thing 
we had discussed as far as punishment went had been the 
crops, and those he had told me would be reserved for more 
severe offenses.  Had this first-time infraction of the 
rules been enough to be considered severe?  Lurking 
somewhere in the back of my mind was a preconceived notion 
of a dominant using the tiniest offense as an excuse to 
satisfy sadistic impulses.  Mulder wasn't like that; that I 
knew for certain.  But if that was the case, what was his 
idea of punishment, and what did he consider a severe 
offense?  It wasn't as though I had willfully disobeyed 
him-surely he recognized that.

"Whatever punishment I choose," he answered, refusing to 
allay my fears by giving me an indication of what to 
expect.  There were to be no conditions on this; I either 
accepted the punishment or I didn't, end of story.

Was the collar really so important to me?  Important enough 
to suffer for?  God, how did I get myself into this?  This 
was just a game, wasn't it?

But I had told Mulder I wanted it to be more than a game; I 
wanted to believe in it.  That was the choice he was truly 
giving me, to make his ownership of me real.  To accept the 
collar, I had to accept he owned me completely, even to the 
point of punishing me for breaking his rules.  I had to 
believe the words I had spoken.

"I'll accept the punishment," I whispered, gnawing 
nervously on my lip and kneeling by the side of the bed.  
"Please, put the collar back on me."

Rising, he bent down and placed a tender kiss on my lips, 
giving me a small, reassuring smile.  He pulled the collar 
from the bedside table and placed it around my neck, 
fastening it in back, then stroked my face softly.  He sat 
on the edge of the bed with his feet over the side and held 
out his hand to me.  "Get up and come lay across my lap, 
face down."

He wanted me to lie across his lap?  Did that mean he was 
going to spank me?  I almost laughed in relief.  A spanking 
was a joke, a punch-line.  It couldn't possibly hurt all 
that much.  I was almost jaunty as I crawled up onto the 
bed and lay across his lap.  He stroked my ass for a 
moment, softly and sensually, even making the occasional 
foray down my legs and up my inner thighs, until I was more 
aroused than frightened.  Against my belly, I could feel 
the stirring of his cock and knew he, too, was becoming 
excited.

I had a second of warning before the first blow came in the 
form of the tensing of his body, and then his hand landed 
hard on my ass.  I yelped, startled by the noise and the 
impact, and then a red-hot stinging began to make its way 
across my buttock.  Just as I was adapting to the feeling, 
another blow fell, and another soon thereafter.  I quickly 
realized I had grossly underestimated how painful a 
spanking could be as my ass began to burn beneath his hand.  
This wasn't make-believe; it wasn't even a spanking for the 
sake of sexual arousal.  This was punishment and he meant 
business.

Soon I was yelling and struggling with each blow, kicking 
my legs frantically, but he held me in place with his left 
arm across my waist while he right rained brutal slaps upon 
my blazing flesh.  In a moment of cognizance amidst my 
instinctive thrashing and yelling, I realized somewhere in 
the process of all of this, he had become fully aroused.

I had been so proud of myself earlier for what I had 
perceived as my surrender to him, giving him control over 
my body.  I didn't know what the word surrender meant.  
Surrender was to allow myself to be punished for breaking a 
rule I was under no true obligation to follow in the first 
place.  Surrender was accepting pain not because I had to, 
but because in doing so I was reaffirming his domination 
over me. 

By the time he had finished, my face was flushed with 
Exertion, and tears of pain and embarrassment stung my 
eyes.  Gingerly, I sat on the bed with the headboard to my 
back, huddled with my arms around my legs and my knees 
pulled protectively to my breasts.  The sheets, which had 
seemed so soft earlier when I made the bed, now felt rough 
and coarse against my burning backside.  Mulder sat beside 
me and pulled my tense form against him, stroking my arms 
and shoulders softly as he held me.  His erection was still 
in full evidence.

"You enjoyed that," I said accusingly, tossing him an 
injured glare.

He placed a finger beneath my chin and forced me to meet 
his gaze.  "I think a little more respect would be 
appropriate when you address me, don't you?" He asked 
softly, in a tone of warning.  My irritation fled in an 
instant, replaced by a spasm arousal and trepidation.

"I'm sorry, Master," I whispered--and meant it.  "And I'm 
sorry I forgot your rule about the clothes."

"Thank you," he replied seriously.  "I forgive you."

I bowed my head, humbled and relieved.  Fingering the 
doeskin and steel collar around my neck, I was relieved 
to have it there.  I had thought certainly he wouldn't 
give it back to me until after he had punished me, but I 
realized it was a powerful symbol--unless I was wearing the 
collar, I wasn't Kat, and therefore he had no right to 
punish me.  Placing it on my neck before punishing me 
emphasized dominance and possession.  There was a sense of 
comfort that came with the reminder of his possession, a 
feeling of belonging I had rarely known in my life.  I 
sighed softly.

After a moment, I heard him chuckle.  "As for your 
accusation--yes, I did enjoy that.  You were squirming and 
wiggling on my lap," he shrugged.  "What's not to enjoy?"

I laughed reluctantly, feeling oddly light-hearted despite 
what I had been through.  The Catholic in me recognized 
this feeling; I had done my penance and all was forgiven, 
my foolish screw-up forgotten.  I was extremely conscious 
of the collar around my throat and what I had sacrificed to 
attain it.  Sitting in his embrace, feeling his warmth 
against me and seeing the evidence of his desire for me, it 
seemed worth it.  He kissed the top of my head tenderly, 
nuzzling my hair, and I felt my posture loosening, becoming 
less defensive.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I muttered, grimacing and shifting carefully.  
"It's just my pride that's hurt."

"I didn't realize how pretty you'd look with your little 
ass all red like that," he murmured sexily in my ear.  
Within my gut, something clenched in response.  For a man 
looking forty in the eye, I had to marvel at Mulder's 
recovery time and seemingly inexhaustible supplies of 
sexual energy.  His hand slid to my knee and then between 
my legs, which I extended and spread immediately to provide 
him with better access.  His fingers ran over my slick 
folds teasingly and I gave a soft sigh of pleasure.

"Lay down," Mulder instructed me and obligingly, I moved 
down on the bed to lie flat upon the mattress.  The 
irritation of the percale against my buttocks was quickly 
forgotten as his fingers played expertly upon all my most 
sensitive points.  He did not linger long in arousing me; 
it was late and we were both tired from our long day.  
Nonetheless, he was thorough, kissing me deeply as he moved 
between my legs and slid into my waiting body.

I had already been fucked twice that day (four times if one 
counted the two dildos that had been used) and twice the 
night before, so I was extremely tender, my labia swollen 
and sore.  But Mulder was gentle with me and despite the 
discomfort I was glad to welcome him into my body once 
more.  Even if he hadn't taken care to make the coupling 
pleasurable for me, at that point the only thing that 
mattered to me was that he take his pleasure with me, from 
me if necessary.  In later days I would wonder at what had 
come over me, but right then I didn't care.  I existed for 
his pleasure, felt as though I had been consecrated 
throughout the day for that express purpose, and it felt 
right the night should end with him claiming me once more.

But he did take care to give me pleasure, sucking on my 
sore nipples softly and rubbing my clitoris with infinite 
tenderness as he fucked me slowly and gently.  To my own 
amazement I came again, a soft, weak climax that left me 
gasping as I clutched him with my arms around his 
shoulders.  A few moments later he shuddered in my arms and 
sagged atop my body, limp and exhausted.

The last thing I felt as we settled into sleep, relaxed and 
sated, was the leather and steel collar around my neck.  I 
went to sleep with a smile on my face.

End of Part Four of Five


Aphrodisia III - The Joy of Surrender (5 of 5)
Kristel S. Oxley-Johns
kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com


I awoke Sunday morning to an armful of amorous Scully.

No sooner had I opened my eyes than she had crawled atop me 
and straddled my hips, kissing me deeply.  She thrust her 
tongue into my mouth and rubbed her breasts firmly against 
my chest.  She would be leaving soon to go home and get 
ready for mass, and I felt a twinge of regret our interlude 
was ending for the weekend.  When she came up for air, I 
looked up to see the collar around her long, elegant neck 
and smiled.

Saturday had been marvelous and full of surprises for me.  
I had discovered things about myself I hadn't suspected.  I 
hadn't known just how satisfying I would find the ability 
to possess Scully so completely, how rewarding it would be 
to see her yield everything to me.  I had set out 
immediately to test her boundaries and she had risen to the 
challenge admirably.  The day had been intensely fulfilling 
for me, and I was disappointed to see it end.

Some moments of the previous day had been harder than 
others for me.  There had come a moment while I was 
pinching her nipples and fucking her the night before that 
Scully had pleaded with me to stop.  I almost did, my first 
reaction being to immediately cease what I was doing and 
comfort her.  The urge to protect her and keep her from 
pain was strong enough within me that to ignore that 
initial protective instinct had been almost more than I 
could do.  Only when I had forcibly reminded myself that 
she hadn't used her safe-word was I able to continue.

Even then, I'd had doubts.  Had she forgotten her safe-
word?  Was she so distressed that she was unable to do more 
than plead for release?  If Scully hadn't been wearing the 
eye-mask, she would have seen the uncertainty on my face.  
Though most of the day I had been able to fall into the 
roll I was playing, her distress had been enough to bring 
me out of it.  It had happened several times during the 
day, when my confidence had faltered, and yet I had needed 
to project an image of confidence and assuredness to enable 
her to relinquish control to me.  If I had appeared less 
than certain of myself and what I was doing, I would have 
ruined the mood for her, and I didn't want to do that.  But 
there were times when it hadn't been so easy for me.

By far the hardest moment of the evening had been when I 
had punished her for forgetting the rule about clothing.  I 
had been disturbed when I'd seen her wearing the pajama 
top, unsure of the message she was trying to convey.  Had 
she thought the scene was over and that the rule no longer 
applied?  Had she intentionally disregarded the rule in an 
attempt to provoke me, to see what I would do?  Only when I 
saw the realization of her error dawn on her face did I 
realize she had simply forgotten.

My first impulse when she apologized had been to dismiss 
the faux pas or at most, give her a stern reminder and a 
promise of punishment should it happen again.  I had 
actually opened my mouth to tell her it was all right when 
it occurred to me that Scully wouldn't thank me for going 
easy on her.  She had committed to the game, seemed sincere 
in her desire to do it, and she had the safety valve of her 
safe-word if she needed it.  I had not only a right but a 
responsibility to take action to correct her oversight.  I 
had been troubled by the duty, and I had yielded to the 
impulse to offer her an out.  She had surprised me by 
accepting the punishment over not being allowed to wear the 
collar.

The fact that she wanted the collar and all it represented 
enough to accept the punishment instead had been a humbling 
realization for me.  She had dedicated herself whole-
heartedly to the endeavor--she wanted me to possess and 
control her.  The depth of her faith and trust had been 
awe-inspiring.

But Sunday meant Kat was gone for the week.  It was 
important we make a point of separating our time in the 
scene from the rest of our time together.  I 
had meant what I said when I told Scully I didn't want the 
two mixing together.  I had spent too many years loving 
her to want to give her up for a full-time fantasy, 
however exciting the fantasy might be.  Master might need
Kat, but *I* needed *Scully*.  Smiling tenderly, I reached 
up and unfastened the collar from her neck.  I pulled it 
off and set it gently aside and looked up to meet her eyes.

I know Scully understood the significance of the gesture as 
well.  She had given herself to me for a while, without 
hesitation or reservation.  For a marvelous 24-hour period, 
I had possessed her body and soul.  Now it was important I 
give her back that control.  It was important she know I 
did not expect to have domination over her outside that 
single day we spent each week as Master and Kat.

She bent down to kiss me again and then proceeded to 
thoroughly ravish me.  My cock was practically raw, and I 
knew Scully had to be uncomfortable as well, but it didn't 
seem to faze her.  She rode me enthusiastically to her own 
shuddering climax, and only then did she allow me out of 
bed to make a trip to the bathroom.  When I was finished, I 
returned the gesture, crawling between her thighs and 
taking my time making love to her.  There wasn't a portion 
of her body I didn't adore with my lips and tongue before 
sliding into her welcoming heat.

It wasn't until after we had finished that I took note of 
the dark love-bites over her breasts and shoulders.  I felt 
myself becoming tense, realizing how uninhibited I had 
become while topping her.  I wouldn't say that sort of 
violent passion existed within me, normally, but certainly 
something had come over me while we played.  I was suddenly 
afraid.  Had I gone too far?

"How are you feeling?" I asked as she snuggled against my 
chest.

"You mean aside from the fact I won't be able to sit 
properly for days?  Between the spanking you administered 
and the sheer quantity of sex we've had, I'm done for."

"Good thing work keeps us on our feet so much, I guess," I 
chuckled before becoming serious again.  "But I need to 
know how you're doing, how you feel about what happened 
yesterday."

"How do I feel?" She considered the question a moment.  I 
was relieved to see that none of the turmoil she had 
evidenced on Tuesday lingered.  "Well, I'm fairly certain 
at this point we're doing the right thing," she said 
solemnly.  "The more we explore this, the more I realize 
how much I need it, need to relinquish control for a while.  
It just--feels right.  And I'm no longer afraid I won't be 
able to claim control back; I feel perfectly in control of 
myself at this moment.  You were right when you said we're 
not the people we used to be.  I can let go without letting 
go for good."  She sighed, looking away from me for a long 
moment.  "I feel peaceful, Mulder.  Content.  I don't know 
when the last time that happened was, when the last time 
was I didn't feel I was missing something.  Whatever we've 
stumbled upon here, I think it's something I needed for a 
long time and just didn't know it."

"Roll over," I urged her and she complied, rolling onto her 
belly so I could inspect her buttocks.  I hadn't known the 
previous night how much force to apply when spanking her.  
My goal had been to make it hurt enough to get my point 
across, without doing any injury.  I had expected it to be 
more difficult to punish her than it had been; in my role 
as Dominant, it had felt right, no matter how abhorrent I 
found the concept of willfully inflicting pain upon her 
when we were just Mulder and Scully.  Nevertheless, 
Scully's statement about the difference between hurt and 
harm was firmly lodged in my mind.

A few tiny red dots, where surface capillaries had 
ruptured, dotted her fair skin.  My initial reaction to the 
sight of them was regret, and it took a concerted effort to 
overcome that and remind myself with her fair skin, it was 
to be expected; anything could look worse than it actually 
was.  When I prodded with my finger on her soft flesh and 
questioned her, there didn't seem to be any bruising in the 
tissue and so I was content I hadn't done her any true 
harm.

Sighing with relief, I spread her buttocks to inspect 
between, running a finger tenderly over her anus.  I'd 
never given much thought to the concept of anal sex with 
Scully, or anyone for that matter.  It sounded interesting 
as an abstract concept and supposedly it felt good, tighter 
than vaginal intercourse and therefore more intense, but 
I'd never felt any overwhelming need to try it.  I 
certainly hadn't cared to run the risk of offending a 
sexual partner by suggesting it.  But anal sex had figured 
heavily into the novel Scully had read when she was young.  
I thus reasoned it had impacted her idea of submission, had 
perhaps even formed her concept if what submission should 
be.  Although I knew the fear was invalid, her diminutive 
size made me nervous.

Scully squirmed and tensed a little at my inspection.  
"Does this feel all right?" I asked, rubbing the outer rim 
of the opening lightly.  It looked perhaps a little pink, 
but I could see nothing alarming.  Still, what was 
important was what she felt.

Scully sighed before answering.  "Maybe just the tiniest 
bit sensitive, but it doesn't hurt, really," she said.  
"It's strange...I never really believed it wouldn't."

That explained her tension the night before and even now as 
I touched her.  It didn't surprise me; I had read the same 
book she had, though I wished she hadn't read it at such an 
impressionable age.  To get such a brutal and extreme look 
into sexual behavior when a girl's first sexual ideals were 
forming couldn't have been a completely healthy experience.

I kissed her buttock gently and crawled back up the bed to 
lie on my side next to her, propped up on one elbow.

"If you had expected it to hurt, why didn't you veto anal 
sex when I sent you the survey?" I asked seriously.  I 
needed to know what Scully was expecting from this who 
experience, needed to know if this was something that would 
be truly healthy for us.  I trusted Scully to know her own 
mind, to know what was best for her, but I had to make sure 
we were on the same page.  She had to know better than to 
expect me to willfully do something that could harm her.

"Because..." Scully sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.  
"Because of something I only really realized yesterday," 
she said at last.  "I finally understood what I've been 
looking for wasn't just the ability to let go of control 
for a while.  It's about possession.  I wanted to give 
myself to you, all of myself.  If I was going to do that, I 
didn't want there to be any part of me you couldn't have if 
you wanted it.  And besides--I knew you wouldn't hurt me.  
If you didn't feel you could do something without causing 
me harm, you wouldn't do it."

"But you still fear it," I stated, running my finger over 
the crevice of her buttocks again.  Her instantaneous 
tension at the gesture proved my point better than words 
could.  "Scully--whatever happens here, even when I'm in 
charge, has to be something you're okay with or it's no 
good.  Frankly, anal intercourse isn't anything I've ever 
felt any desperate need for.  Sure, it sounds like an 
interesting idea, but really the only thing that matters to 
me is I'm with you, not what we do.  If you do something 
you can't or don't want to do just because you think you 
should, it's not going to work."

I was feeling uncomfortable and anxious by that point, 
afraid I had misread her desires and needs.  How much did 
she really want and how much was she consenting to just 
because she felt she should?  I knew Scully and her 
tendency to feel she had something to prove--was this 
something she actually wanted?  All of a sudden, I wasn't 
sure we were doing the right thing.

"Mulder, no--" Scully finally rolled over, facing me fully.  
"It's not that I'm not okay with it.  In fact, the idea 
interests me--a lot.  I want to try it.  It's that I have 
this preconceived, irrational fear about it, one no amount 
of anatomical knowledge seems to eradicate completely, and 
I want to get past that.  Not because I think it's 
something I *should* do but because it's something I want 
to do.  I want to stop being afraid and I want you to 
possess every part of me when you possess *me*."

She groaned, closing her eyes again.  "I don't understand 
it anymore, Mulder," she said at last, sighing.  "It sounds 
ridiculous and antiquated when I say it aloud, but--"

"It doesn't sound ridiculous to me, Scully," I interrupted, 
reaching out to stroke her face lightly.  "If there's 
something you feel you need, then I want to be able to 
fulfill that.  But I have to understand what it is and 
make sure we both know where the boundaries lie."

"When I finally started thinking about it--when I finally 
started to *let* myself think about it, all of a sudden it 
occurred to me I'd been living a lie," Scully said quietly.  
"Nothing I should want--nothing that's *acceptable* for me 
to want--seems to be what I really need.  None of it felt 
right, at least, not completely.  But yesterday and last 
weekend, finally I found something that seemed to fill that 
missing part of me.  When I let you have possession of me, 
I finally feel complete.  I feel--free.  I don't understand 
it; I don't know if I'll ever understand it, but I'm tired 
of trying to dissect it.  I just--when we're together like 
we were yesterday, I don't want to hold back any part of me 
from you.  If we're going to do this, play this game, I 
want it to be complete."

She sighed again.  "I've spent a lot of years not willing 
to give much of myself to anyone.  I did it with everyone, 
Mulder, not just you, but with you it was worse in a lot of 
ways.  It was worse because you completely opened yourself 
up to me time and again, and I know it hurt you when I 
closed you out.  It's important there aren't any more 
barriers.  Sometimes, I know I won't be able to help 
myself; keeping things inside has become a way of life for 
me.  I'm sure there will be times when I shut 
you out or turn you away, and we'll have to deal with that.  
But--if I'm committing to turn myself completely over to 
you one day a week, then I want--I *need*--to know I'm not 
holding back.  I want to give you all of myself, because 
it's important to *me*.  And because you deserve that from 
me, and because ultimately I know you'll never hurt me."

I was overcome for a moment, stunned by the enormity of her 
declaration.  Emotions were a difficult thing for Scully, 
hard to acknowledge and even harder to discuss.  What was 
happening here went beyond something as trivial as what 
varieties of sex we would or wouldn't have.  She was 
talking about offering me more than her body--she was 
offering me her soul.  I thought for a moment I might weep 
for all she had given me.

"Oh, God, Scully," I whispered, pulling her close and 
kissing her tenderly on the forehead.  We cuddled there for 
a long moment before finally yielding to the inevitable 
passage of time.  If we didn't get going, Scully would be 
late.

We took a brief shower together and though it made Scully 
later, I couldn't resist the temptation to kneel down 
before her and make love to her with my mouth with the hot 
water cascading around us.  She came shuddering and 
groaning, her knees buckling slightly while I held her 
upright by her hips, and her hands scrabbling against the 
slick tile walls of the shower.

We had a couple pieces of toast for breakfast and then she 
left.  The remainder of the day seemed empty without her.

*     *     *     *     *

I hadn't expected to see her Sunday night.  Usually we 
spent that night apart, catching up on business and errands 
we needed to do separately before the week began.  I had 
spent the day going over files we would need for the 
upcoming week.  I was surprised when, rather than calling 
as she normally did, Scully showed up on my doorstep.

"Hi," I greeted her when I peered around the corner at the 
sound of the door opening.  It was almost ten o'clock, and 
I had just finished getting ready for bed, prepared to 
watch the late news before retiring.

"Hi," she smiled and stepped close to embrace me and kiss 
me.  I returned the kiss enthusiastically.  When we parted, 
she pressed her forehead to my bare chest, her face hidden 
by her hair.  Her posture was tense, which didn't surprise 
me.  While we had slowly been chipping away at the 
boundaries we had abided by for so many years before 
becoming lovers, this was the first time she had shown up 
on my doorstep when she hadn't been invited or expected, 
with the intention of staying.  I didn't ask her why she 
had come; the fact that she wanted to be here was enough.  
I wasn't about to question it or make her feel her being 
here was anything less than 100% acceptable.

I went into the kitchen to heat some water for some 
chamomile tea while Scully got ready for bed, then we sat 
in front of the TV with our tea and watched the news.  When 
it was over, I turned it off and we went into the bedroom.  
As I crawled under the covers, Scully removed the pajamas 
she had donned before we'd settled on the sofa and climbed 
into the bed beside me.

The feeling of her soft, warm, bare body next to mine was 
exquisite.  I could feel my body stirring in response, and 
yet I was unwilling to disrupt this intimate interlude when 
she was cuddled, naked and silent, in my arms.  We were 
both tired and sated from the adventure we had undertaken 
over the weekend, so I ignored the urging of my libido and 
simply held her.  She was peacefully and deeply asleep with 
her back pressed to my chest within minutes.  Not long 
thereafter, I joined her.

End of Aphrodisia III - The Joy of Surrender

NOTE:  It may be a while longer than you're used to waiting for 
Aphrodisia IV.  Between RL and writer's block, it's taking a little 
longer to write.  There will be one, though, never fear.

Kristel