He looked over the living room to decide the next place to start, and immediately spied the paddle on the coffee table. He blanched and sank to his knees.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No, precious. It's something we're going to try later." I came up to him and leaned over to kiss him. "Don't fear. All I want are your honest reactions. Remember?"
"It will be okay."
He nodded again.
"Stand up, precious, and let's clean the house."
After a couple hours, we were putting the finishing touches on the living room, bringing it up to Krycek's high standards of cleanliness. Each significant accomplishment had been punctuated by a little making out. Krycek enjoyed it, but remained subdued. I considered moving our game forward in my mental schedule, but decided not to: if it went as I expected, Krycek wouldn't be in any shape to continue working afterward.
I came up behind Krycek as he viewed our work. Embracing him, I shared his satisfaction. Just because I'd never bothered to whip the apartment into shape didn't mean I liked it messy.
I brushed a kiss under Krycek's ear. "It looks fantastic. Thank you."
"You worked on it, too," he demurred.
"If it was something I would have done myself, it would have already been done."
He made a noncommittal grunt and leaned into my chest. I made a mental note to order something delivered for dinner.
I stroked his chest and belly for a few minutes before drawing him toward the couch. He was reluctant, trying not to think about the paddle and what I was going to do to him, but not resistant. I was pleased, and I gave him a warm kiss, then took off my shirt and pants. Krycek was curious, but didn't ask why I undressed. Before I sat down, I put the paddle on the arm of the couch where I would be able to reach it.
I instructed Krycek to lie across my lap. He did, but he had to shift several times to get reasonably comfortable.
I put my hand in the small of his back and rubbed in small circles. "I'm going to start very light and very slow, Alex. This is something that can be enjoyed a great deal. Just remember to always give honest responses and you'll be fine. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," he murmured, tense.
I made a soothing noise and stroked down over his buttocks, rubbing lightly. I did no more that that -- petting him from back to thigh, alternating sides -- for many long minutes until he began to relax. I continued until he was at ease, and then I shortened my strokes inch by inch, keeping my hand gentle.
His breathing stayed deep and even, almost drowsy, as the strokes of my hand finally shortened into the lightest of pats. I slowly and gently patted from side to side until the skin started to flush evenly.
Krycek squirmed. His cock started to plump against the inside of my thigh as the barest beginnings of excitement threaded into the pleasure built by my first soothing caresses.
I let my hand fall a little more heavily as I patted his backside, and Krycek raised his hips slightly in unconscious response. I smiled since he couldn't see it; this was what I'd hoped that flash of hope buried in shame and fear had indicated the first time I slapped his ass a couple nights ago.
I slowly increased the impact of my hand falling on his ass, and Krycek's movements became more pronounced. He tilted to present his ass as my target and then pressed his cock against my thigh in the time between each blow.
Suddenly he realized what he was doing and froze.
I stopped with my hand cupped under the curve of one cheek. "Is there a problem, Alex?"
I waited, massaging his tense thigh.
How could this be? I was hard as a rock over a spanking. My face burned nearly as hot as my ears.
I shifted, my body echoing my emotional discomfort, and it renewed my awareness of my dick against his leg and his hand on my leg just below my ass.
Much as it shamed me, I didn't really want him to stop.
Mulder was my master.
My master wanted honest reactions.
Krycek's back arched down, tilting his hips and raising his ass. "Please," he whispered, just a breath of sound.
He made me proud, endeavoring so well to abide by my rule. I smiled again.
I began again at reduced force, though I didn't backtrack to the very beginning. Krycek rocked under my hand, allowing his body to respond to the mix of pleasure-pain, converting the latter into the former as I gradually sped up the blows.
His skin turned pink under my hand and he began to whimper needily. His ass rose to meet my hand, and I obligingly increased speed and force. His cock rubbed on my leg, smearing fluid as it leaked.
I reached for the paddle, kneading the flesh of his thigh just below the rosy glow. Starting again with a light touch, I struck him with the leather paddle.
"Oh, God," he moaned from deep in his throat.
I covered both sides of his ass with a pattern of light blows, then did it again, letting the paddle fall harder on his skin. Krycek moaned, rocking up and down over my lap. He shifted to grind down against me in circles, and I increased force again.
Krycek panted. He spread his thighs, and I took advantage of it, angling into the center curve. He moaned, "Please," and spread wider.
I switched from paddling in a pattern to scattering blows randomly over Krycek's ass. Krycek whimpered and moaned, squirming and twisting. I increased force for the last time, sometimes taking the hints from Krycek's physical cues and sometimes teasing around until he begged incoherently.
He cried out each time I centered a blow over his asshole, making invisible waves in his flesh that crashed together at his nerve center, vibrating his sphincter. I did that less frequently that Krycek would have liked, both teasing him and protecting his tender flesh.
Scattering more random blows over his ass while Krycek whimpered and writhed, I moved my other hand between us, between my legs, and grasped his cock. My own erection lay along my wrist.
Krycek groaned. I centered three blows in quick succession over his hole.
"God, please," he cried. "Please fuck me, Master. Please. I need...."
I squeezed his cock and let him thrust into my fist. His hips dropped and rose, staying up until I swatted his ass again and twitching if I made him wait.
"Please, Master," he begged helplessly.
I eased my grip on his cock and told him to get lube and a condom from the end table. He scrambled to obey, stretching so he didn't have to move from over my lap. I stroked his back and buttocks and struck him lightly with the paddle. He moaned and dropped his body, grinding against my thigh. Quickly I slicked up my fingers and slid two inside him. I slapped the outside of each cheek with the paddle, and Krycek's hips twisted while he moaned desperately.
I nudged his prostate with each following smack until he cried out with every one and he clenched around me.
"Master, please," he whimpered.
I put the paddle down, shoved my shorts down, and swiftly sheathed my cock in latex, continuing to stimulate him with fingers inside. I slathered more lube on the condom and withdrew my fingers slowly. Krycek pushed himself up and back, following my fingers, until he rose clear to his knees across my lap. I pulled out and reached under him to grip his cock and stroke it while I explored the tender skin of his ass. It bloomed a fierce pink and was hot to the touch. Krycek's shoulders quivered.
Gently I pushed and tugged, guiding him to kneel facing me and astride my thighs. I slid down slightly and coaxed him forward until his hole hovered above my upright cock. I pressed him down until we made contact and the tip of my cock was seated against his tight ring. I looked at his face.
His brow was wrinkled and his jaw was set. His hands were braced on the couch back. Anxiety was both visible and palpable, but arousal murmured like the drum roll of a timpani underneath.
One hand still guiding my cock, I used the other to pet his chest before moving to his erection and below it to rub behind his balls. He whimpered , and the tension changed to something less anxious.
"Relax," I said. "Breathe deep, relax all over, and push out."
He obeyed, breathing from deep in his chest several times before he was able to release the tension everywhere but his legs. I braced my feet as I felt him open around me. I raised my hips and pulled him all the way down.
Krycek gasped and then moaned. His buttocks were warm against the tops of my thighs and the bend of my hip. Inside him was even hotter and clamped tight around me. I groaned.
Krycek panted and curled forward until he could hide his face in the crook of my neck. "Oh, God," he whispered as I settled back down, shifting us slightly against each other. I stroked his back and arms, soothing him as he recovered. When his body was adjusted, I nudged his face into a kissable position and covered his lips with mine. He moaned and responded enthusiastically.
I teased his mouth in every way and, after a few minutes, began rocking slightly under him. He whimpered; the compelling desire for erotic stimulation was merging with the painful sensation of his reddened skin moving against the skin of my thighs and the occasional prickly hair. I lifted him up a little and shifted for more direct pressure on his pleasure spot. He moaned into my mouth, and I left my hands on his hips to guide him into a slow, pleasurable rhythm.
Krycek broke the kiss to breathe but stayed within my reach. I tugged on his lips with my teeth, and he made tiny noises as he slid gracefully up and down, thighs working steadily.
I moved my hands around and caressed his tender backside. He hissed and slammed down against me harder, groaning in satisfaction as I dug my fingers in.
He rose again and stopped his vertical motion halfway up, instead rocking his hips forward and back. Tiny gasps wisped out of his mouth as he pressed back into my hands. I kneaded the mounds of flesh and heard him moan aloud. He sat back down, taking in my cock.
I moved my mouth to his throat and mouthed at it while I massaged his ass, and the rougher I got, the louder he moaned and the more he writhed on his perch, skewered on my cock.
I rolled him to the side and followed him so he lay on his back on the cushions with my cock still buried inside him. He groaned and arched, pushing against me with his ass.
I hoisted his feet over my shoulders and leaned forward, pulled my hips back, and drove myself into him.
He howled. I waited for the scream to fade, then twisted my hips to chafe his reddened skin and rub my cock against his prostate at the same time. Krycek cried out to heaven.
I pulled back and slammed into him, pelvis making hard impact against his sensitized ass, three times more before grinding against him with my cock sunk deep. Krycek groped for something to hold, but I distracted him, thrusting violently while he cried out his pleasure in it. He braced himself against the arm of the couch so I could drive into him harder, skin slapping together where our flesh met.
When he had no more air to scream, just whimpering and panting for breath with his eyes glazed, I parted his knees, leaned between them, and bit one erect nipple. He cried out, and I ground viciously against him. He groped for any part of my he could reach and pulled me closer as his muscles spasmed and his ass clenched regularly around me. I ground into him harder as he made keening noises with each long breath. I breathed harshly, twisted to suck the other nipple, and came spurting into his hot flesh and shivering with tiny jolts of orgasm going off like irregular fireworks. I stayed there until I recovered my breath.
Carefully I withdrew from him, wrapped the condom in a tissue, and tossed it aside. I helped him stretch out on the sofa and lay down against him. He shifted to give me more room and scooted down to nuzzle at my neck. I caressed his ear with my fingertips and kissed his cheek.
He sighed and wiggled closer.
I hid my face against him. It was easy to ignore my shame and self disgust while overwhelmed by the lust my master aroused in me. It was easy to simply feel the sensations and avoid speculation on how I looked, self-criticism of the way I acted.
Afterward, memory convicted me as a slut and a whore. Even if I disobeyed my master and restrained my reactions, I knew my own desires. I wanted him inside me; I wanted his hand striking my skin; I wanted him pounding into me -- groin striking my hot, sensitive flesh -- so hard my teeth chattered.
And he did. And it was fantastic.
And then it was over, and I was left with the memory of not just the numbing orgasm but also my sluttish squirming and squalling.
I wanted to throw up.
Where was this bullshit coming from? "Alex," I said, "there's nothing wrong with enjoying it."
He twitched -- the beginning of a denial that he caught before voicing. He curled in on himself.
I cuddled him to myself and whispered, "Where is this nonsense coming from? If you were female and twenty years older, it would be obvious. Even now, some girls are conditioned from birth to believe sex is dirty and not to be enjoyed. But you.... Where is this coming from? Was your childhood so atypical that you were taught you shouldn't enjoy the delights of your body?"
"My parents didn't say much about it," he mumbled. It was strictly true, but he remembered coming home late from a date to only a grin and a knowing look rather than the lecture he'd expected from his father.
"Yet you think active enjoyment of the things that cause pleasure is somehow wrong for you?"
Ah, yes. That again.
"Define 'slut' for me, Alex." I continued to hold him, caressing him gently.
He remained silent, mouth working incoherently as he searched for words.
"Isn't a slut someone who has sex with many different people, particularly someone who isn't choosy about who those people are?"
"Do you spread for just anyone who winks at you?"
"Did you ever?"
"Then you aren't a slut, are you." I didn't make it a question.
"No," he agreed after a brief pause.
"No, you're not. You are my sensual, beautiful, exciting pet, and I'll kill anyone who makes you feel bad about that."
Alex curled up tighter and said, "Yes, sir."
"Are you a slut?"
"No," he whispered.
"I'm not a slut."
"What are you?"
"I'm...." He searched again for words.
"Beautiful, sensual, exciting, precious, and mine."
He tried again, stammering to a stop after two words. I kissed his temple and prompted him until he had the entire affirmation down. He finished smoothly, and then said it again with a slight modification.
"I'm yours: your beautiful, sensual, exciting, precious pet."
I kissed his mouth deeply and sweetly, pleased with his declaration. He opened and slowly uncurled, available to my touch. I caressed him with long strokes from shoulder to knee. He sighed, content.
I stopped before we got too aroused. "Now, about whores," I said.
Alex blinked and looked away.
"People sell sex for many reasons, but the type of whore you're thinking about doesn't actually sell sex at all. They sell an act, a dramatic performance. Most don't enjoy sex at all, let alone to the extent they portray. Are you pretending your enjoyment, Alex?"
"No, sir," he said quickly.
"There are other differences. For example, at the end the day, a whore goes home, wherever that is. And, a whore gets paid in some way. A whore exchanges a performance disguised as sex for something -- money, booze, drugs, shelter, food... something. Are you performing an act in exchange for something?"
"No," he said, but it quavered and he looked to me for confirmation.
"Well, on the one hand, you don't actually have a choice, just as most whores don't. Trying to deny me would not end well, to say the least; it's a violation of the rules. On the other hand, nothing about your life depends on you impressing me with some act. In fact, your honesty and sincerity is what's critical. You don't have to like it, and you'd better not pretend to if you don't."
"Yes, sir," he whispered.
"So, are you a whore?"
"Are you a slut?"
"No," he said more firmly.
"What are you?"
"Beautiful, sensual, exciting, precious, and yours."
I held him while he shivered uncontrollably.
"What's wrong with me?" he said in a broken voice.
"Your self-image just got a little disrupted. I'm not sure where you got that crap that was floating in your head, but you just now realized it might not be true. It won't go away immediately, but you can remind yourself whenever you start thinking of yourself that way what you really are: My precious pet."
He nodded and snuffled. "Yes, Master."
I stroked his hair and held him.