TITLE: Scully's Instruction AUTHOR: Romp E-MAIL: Rompier@aol.com AUTHOR's NOTE: Continues Story Arc of "Scully's Dilemma," "Mulder's Tail," & "Krycek's Game" CATEGORY Story/R/H -- Scully Slash sort of (I never know exactly what to put here) RATING: NC-17 SUMMARY. Scully gives in to her submissive side. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set in the latter half of Season Six. No spoilers that i'm aware of. KEYWORDS: Smut, Humor, Scully Slash WARNING: This story is very much for ADULTS ONLY. It is rated NC- 17. It features explict sexual situations, including consensual anal intercourse, and highly intimate touching between Scully and another woman. If this is not your thing or if you are not into domination/submission stories, please move on. FEEDBACK: Please. ARCHIVING: Also sending to Gossamer's and Whisper's of X. Anyone else who wants it, just ask. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. ********************************************** *She's so little,* the woman thought. The comment was by no means an assessment of Dana Scully's character. If anything Lydia Carnivale immediately felt great respect for this young woman. Empathy followed almost as quickly. Still Lydia couldn't help but be struck by how small Dana seemed now. Removed from her power suits and over-sized heels, Dana was almost waifish. No, that wasn't quite correct, Lydia decided. "Waif" was a term best left to the near androgynous supermodels who seemed so ubiquitous these days. That Scully was not, as made plain by her full, if not overwhelming bosom, and her firm, luscious hips. No, Dana had her due allotment of womanly curves. It was just that she now appeared so small, having been stripped of her corporate armor. Lydia paused in her reflection: stripped? An interesting choice of words. Yet, that seemed the right phrase for Dana as she sat huddled in the leather armchair, her knees pulled up to her chest. The jeans and sweatshirt she wore were a marked departure from anything Lydia had seen this woman in before -- either in person or in the numerous still photos she'd been shown. And with her hair pulled back in a band, this Scully seemed a full ten years younger than the woman who first visited Lydia's establishment a week ago with her partner. Lydia did her best to stare patiently at Scully now. The "patient stare" was one of the true art forms of this side of Lydia's profession: finding the correct balance between giving the other person time to feel comfortable enough to speak freely without making him or her feel conspicuous in the process. For her part, Dana seemed lost in the same spot in the carpet she'd been eyeing intently for the past five minutes. Finally, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lydia, maybe this was a mistake." "On the phone, Dana, you said that you were having some dreams that were unsettling for you." "I was." Scully paused. "I am." Only a few hours ago she'd woken in a heart-pounding fever from another of the humiliating dreams that had become a nightly occurrence. Each time it was a different man from her past, dominating and exposing her in some sordid way. Robert Modell. Assistant Director Kersh. Alex Krycek. What concerned Scully most was that each night the dreams seemed to grow more elaborate and more stunning in the extent of humiliation she had to endure. The encounter with Krycek had been particularly unsettling, prompting her to make the call to Lydia in the first place. Now, as she sat here in her office above the singular establishment known as "The Menagerie," Scully couldn't help but wonder if she made the wrong decision. Repeatedly on the ride out of DC, she'd asked herself just what she was doing. This woman was no therapist. She simply ran some strange little club where women came to parade around in bizarre, submissive costumes. Yet, there had been something in Lydia's voice that first time they met, something that instantaneously made Scully want to open up to her. "Dana, whatever it is, maybe I can help you make peace with it," she'd said. "Even embrace it." And, somehow Scully felt as safe baring her soul here in Lydia's office as she did anywhere else. She'd tried bringing herself to talk to Karen Kossef at the Bureau's Office of Professional Services, but somehow Scully balked at the thought of broaching such a delicate matter in a work environment. Lydia seemed the best alternative. Letting her eyes drift up from the carpet, Scully exhaled slowly, looking for courage. You came out here because you needed to talk about this, she told herself. *So talk.* "I've been having dreams." Scully laced her fingers together tightly, as if hoping that the sensation would somehow distract her from the anxiety she was feeling. "Dreams where I'm being humiliated. Dominated. Exposed. By men whom in the past I've considered enemies, or at least adversaries." Lydia inclined her chin slightly upward in a half nod. "And this bothers you?" Scully looked back surprised. "Shouldn't it?" "They're just dreams Dana. Not real." Scully thought for a moment. "Someone once told me that a dream is the answer to a question we haven't learned how to ask ourselves yet." Scully avoided Lydia's gaze, realizing she was approaching the core of the issue. "I worry what these dreams say about me. About my desires." "Dana, do you enjoy the feelings the dreams engender? The humiliation, the exposure?" Scully thought, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. She let her mind drift back over the images that her unconscious had generated over the past few nights. Krycek's leashing her and parading her nude through a bar full of patrons stuck out most vividly in her mind. She shook her head and quietly said, "I don't know." Lydia thought for a moment. "Dana, when you first came here, I suggested that you understood why the women who frequent my establishment behave as they do. I believe you understand the desire to submit. The allure of surrendering to another." Lydia stopped for a moment, letting her words sink in. "And, Dana, as I recall, you didn't tell me I was wrong, did you?" Scully responded in something less than a whisper, "No." "Dana, is it possible, that the reason you're being dominated by enemies in your dreams is because you're not entirely comfortable with that side of your sexuality? That you only feel justified in experiencing those emotions when they're forced on you?" A silence built in the room as Lydia waited for her question to sink in. Scully sat locked in her own internal analysis. She had to confess that Lydia's assessment seemed on target. By her own admission, Scully was uncomfortable with those aspects of her sexuality that involved submitting. She'd spent so much of her life fighting to establish control: over her career, her life. Her time at the Bureau only enhanced those instincts, as she fought to prove herself in a male- dominated organization. More so, she couldn't help but think, since her assignment to the X-Files and the attendant skepticism her and Mulder's work evoked from so many of their colleagues. Showing any form of weakness seemed so wrong. Her experience with her cancer only heightened that sensation. The inability to control her destiny -- her very life even -- had perhaps been the most difficult of all to accept during her ordeal with the disease. Scully realized she was only proving Lydia's point. The more taboo surrendering seemed, the more logical it was that Scully should crave it. Privately, she knew of the jokes that circulated in certain circles about her occasionally frigid demeanor. "The Ice Queen." To the hack psychologist around the water cooler, Scully seemed a sure-fire bet for a closet dominatrix. But the more thoughtful analysis revealed just the opposite: someone who reveled in the idea of surrendering control to another, a person who spent so much time in charge of herself that it was nothing short of ecstasy to hand the reigns over to another -- figuratively and perhaps literally as well. "Who, Dana?" Scully looked up, startled out of her thoughts. "What?" "Who were you thinking about?" Lydia's voice was gentle and soothing. Scully's gaze returned to her favorite spot on the floor. "I wasn't...I wasn't thinking about anyone. I suppose I was just thinking that you might be right. That my difficulty in accepting the submissive side of my nature might produce the type of dreams I've been having." Lydia let the words hang in the air, waiting for Scully to say more. Slowly, Scully looked up and met her gaze. She blushed. "I guess I just admitted I'm a submissive at heart." Her lips formed a tight, bashful smirk. Lydia returned the smile. "Dana, you're only a slave to those things that you let control you. It may sound oxymoronic, but that goes for submitting too. Surrendering control doesn't necessarily mean losing control. It means trusting another enough to put yourself in their hands. It's a preference, not a flaw." Scully sat silently, thinking. Her voice back to the whisper level, she said, "So, is that it? Will the dreams stop now?" Lydia laughed slightly. "I have the distinct feeling they will." Scully looked up, puzzled. Quickly, Lydia added, "And if they don't, I think you should look at them as a safe way to explore that side of your personality. Maybe now that you're cognizant of your motivation, the dreams will be more constructive. If they continue." Scully hesitated, glancing down again. Mentally, she was starting to liken her conversation with Lydia to easing into an overly hot bath: the further she went into the water, the more comfortable it felt. Even so, Scully found it difficult to believe what she was about to ask. "What other ways might there be to explore those feelings...safely?" Scully felt every nerve in her body tingle. Had she actually made that request out loud? Lydia's smile grew to a full-blown grin, making Scully uneasy again. Then the lyric voice returned, "Yes, Dana, if you like. I could provide you some basic instruction. Under two conditions." "Conditions?" Lydia smiled reassuringly. "First, Dana, you understand that the private instruction I'll offer you is on a one- time basis only. Thereafter, you'll have to find someone else to share with." Lydia paused, searching Scully's face for any sign that she might have someone in mind. A slight blush affirmed that she did. "The second is that you simply consider, or reconsider, joining us one night in the Menagerie." Lydia's smile broadened again. "I'm sure we could find you something to wear." Scully settled back in her chair, a strange mix of temptation and fear spreading over her. She suddenly felt half her age, a fifteen year-old about to embark on her first date. Scully thought of the elaborate leather costumes she'd seen in the Menagerie's showroom and for a second pictured herself parading around in the club below dressed as some strange sexual beast. Just as quickly, she shook the thought from her head, though a part of her relished the mere fact that she even allowed herself to consider the proposition. Her cheeks bright red, Scully simply said. "We'll see." "Very well. As to your instruction, be here at 11:00 am tomorrow." Scully hesitated. "Is there anything we, um, should discuss beforehand?' Lydia looked at her thoughtfully. "Ordinarily, I'd say yes. But I think I have a pretty good idea of what you want, Dana." Lydia's eyes twinkled and Scully had the unsettling feeling that the woman could see straight into her innermost fantasies. "Just think of a safety word tonight, something that you can say in case things go outside the bounds of what you're comfortable with. It should be something unique, a word you wouldn't say casually or by accident." Scully stood to leave. "Umm, is there anything you want me to wear?" Lydia chuckled. "Anything you like, my dear. You won't have it on for long." **************** Scully's heart pounded as she eased her car down the Menagerie's long driveway, making her way back onto the main road. Back to the real world. Was she really going to do this? Had she actually agreed to a domination session? Scully shook her head, every instinct in her body wanting to launch into a stream of recriminations: You can't do this. This is crazy. What if someone finds out? But those inner voices were silenced by something new, an overwhelming feeling of freedom. Scully's mind flashed to an image of a skydiver. She had taken the plunge and, nervous as she was, her soul was in love with her for it. The sensation was a far more intense version of what she'd felt after her shopping trip to an Albuquerque sex boutique weeks earlier. Then she had simply taken a step towards acknowledging her anal fantasies by buying appropriate toys. What she had done today was far in excess of that. For the first time in her life she had actually shared some element of her submissive side with another. And, though she hadn't mentioned her anal interest explicitly, Scully had the feeling that somehow Lydia was more than attuned to that aspect of her sexual interests. Thoughts of what Lydia would inflict on her the next morning rushed through her mind. *You won't have it on for long.* Scully felt a warm shimmer run through her body at the thought of cowering naked at the older woman's feet. Slowly, the obvious fact that she would be engaging in this activity with another woman sunk in. "And how exactly do you feel about that?" she asked herself. Scully thought for a moment. Domination didn't necessarily imply sex. Indeed, to the extent that she knew about the subject matter, very often the practice was non-sexual. Though the submissive or the dominant might become aroused by the activity, sex was not necessarily the end game. Scully remembered an interview with a dominatrix she'd read somewhere along the line. Was it in The New Yorker? The woman had gone to great lengths to stress that a dominatrix wasn't a prostitute; she never engaged in sex with any of her clients. It was one of the reasons that being a dominatrix was technically a legal profession; they didn't provide sexual services per se, even though their clientele often received immense sexual stimulus from the activity. Scully tried to will herself into relaxing. *Don't overanalyze everything.* If anything, she told herself, you'll be safer with Lydia than with a male dom who you might actually be tempted to have sex with. Scully grimaced. And wouldn't *that* be awful. Pausing at a stop sign, Scully indulged her paranoia for a moment. Hidden cameras? Blackmail? Scully reasoned that both were always possibilities. But she'd long ago given up any hope of avoiding surveillance. If the Syndicate wanted to film the most intimate details of her life, she reasoned that it was more than possible for them to do so without her knowledge. She had equally reasoned that living in constant fear of that fact would only give them an element of control over her life that she refused to allow anyone to have. She had to live her life, regardless of who might be watching. Scully just as quickly dismissed the blackmail angle. If the Syndicate wanted sexually explicit photos of her, they could no doubt manufacture wonderful images of her having sex with another woman, one of her superiors, or any number of farm animals. There would be no reason to expend resources actually coaxing her into compromising situations. And, for some reason that she couldn't completely put her finger on, Scully felt an innate trust in Lydia. Indeed, Scully reasoned, she was lucky to have encountered someone so understanding. Reassured, Scully tried to let her euphoria build again. So, you try this once, she told herself. A unique, one- time thing that a part of you has always wanted. Like someone skydiving or bungee jumping. You do this and learn what you can from it. And enjoy it. What could go wrong? *************** "It went well." He said the words with the confidence of a statement, but the inflection of a question. Lydia nodded, uncomfortable as always with his presence. She would be glad when this particular favor was performed and she could return her visitor to arm's length. "And her dreams?" he asked. "They'll stop. It'll help convince her that she's on the right path." Lydia stroked her forehead gently. "Besides, I'm not sure that I could manage another one." In more ways than one, Dana Scully was proving to be more of a challenge than Lydia had anticipated. The Smoking Man stood to leave, already fingering the cigarette he would light as soon as he left the office. Lydia eyed him curiously. She desperately wanted to revisit the issue of his motivation in this affair, but knew better. "I think I can whet Scully's appetite sufficiently to ensure that she returns on Thursday night." "Good. Mulder's attendance should be simple enough to engineer." ********************* Scully arrived slightly before eleven. She'd been up since eight following the most restful night of sleep she could remember in some time. There had been no humiliation dreams and their absence was not lost on her. Perhaps it all was a matter of accepting who she really was, to include her sexual tastes. Appropriately enough, Scully entered the Menagerie through a backdoor. Lydia had told her about it on the phone, when Scully voiced some concern about entering through the front, where a surveillance camera was stationed for security purposes. The back entrance was for the performers and provided access to the main club on the lower level, behind the bar. Scully immediately headed upstairs where she found Thumper polishing the display cases. Nude. Except for her bunny tail and ears. Trying not to appear too awkward, Scully smiled a polite hello as Thumper gleefully waved. Truth be told, she found Thumper far less disconcerting when Mulder wasn't around to drool over her. Still, Scully couldn't help but wonder if the woman ever wore a full set of clothes. And that tail had to get uncomfortable at some point, didn't it? Scully entered Lydia's office with a light knock, the door half ajar. She was feeling more at ease than she had anticipated. Maybe it was the good night's sleep; maybe she'd just exhausted her anxiety the previous day. Lydia's reassuring smile made her even more comfortable. "Good morning Dana." Scully immediately surveyed Lydia's clothes. She hadn't expected to see her in a full-blown leather dominatrix outfit; that simply didn't seem Lydia's style. At the same time though, Scully hadn't quite known what to expect. But as she eyed Lydia's long, gray skirt and black calf- high walking boots, Scully felt something inside her stir. Lydia's hair was pulled back into a schoolmarm bun, leaving her beautiful, angular face nicely on display. The look was topped off by a plain, but elegant white blouse and a black suede vest. Scully tried to put her finger on the exact look. She thought for a second: it reminded of her something one of her undergraduate professors used to wear – attractive, but at the same time simple and practical. Lydia returned the favor, pausing a moment to note Scully's own attire. Despite her joke about not having clothes on long, she'd been curious about how Dana would outfit herself for this event. Pleased, Lydia noted that Scully was looking much more herself today. Casual black slacks with a dark green turtleneck. Over-sized heels. A black wool topcoat. Inwardly Lydia grinned. She liked the idea of dominating the woman she had observed for so long, rather than the girl who visited her office yesterday. "So, Dana, I think we're about ready to begin. Have you thought of a safety word?" Scully looked down, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, I have. It's Starbuck" *I am so going to hell* she thought to herself. "Starbuck." Lydia repeated. "I like it. Now remember, Dana, if things get too out of hand for you, you can immediately stop the session with that word. Understood?" Scully nodded. "So? Is there anything I need to know?" "Ordinarily, I'd suggest that we play out a scene. Role- playing can be so much fun. But I'm not sure you're ready for that." Lydia eyed Scully critically. "Instead, I think we should start simple. A basic game: you do what I say and I have you do what I want." Lydia put the slightest hint of menace into her comments and searched Scully's face for a reaction. Her cheeks had flushed. A little apprehensively, Scully simply said, "Okay." Then after a pause, she quietly asked, "What should I call you?" Lydia smiled, clearly enjoying the prospect of what was to come. "You may call me mistress." Scully's cheeks reddened a shade deeper. Mistress. "So, um, how exactly do we start?" Lydia reached into one of the deep pockets of her skirt and produced a small brass emblem. She let it fall to the ground at her feet. It was only then that Scully saw that it was an X. Lydia walked towards the door. "You start, Dana, by taking off all your clothes and placing them on my desk. Then I would like you to kneel at that X. And wait for me." ********************** Being naked heightened each of Scully's senses. Her ears perked up for any sound of Lydia's return. Her eyes scrutinized every inch of the office for signs of what torments might be in store. She eyed the antique stand-up stocks against the wall warily. And, Scully 'felt' everything. The air moving past her exposed skin. The deep pile carpet nestling underneath her knees. The motion of her hair, brushing lightly against her shoulders. The strange feel of the heels of her feet pressing into her bare buttocks as she leaned back on her haunches. How long had it been? Ten minutes. Fifteen. She thought about getting up to check her watch, which now lay with the rest of her clothing on Lydia's desk. But something inside restrained her. *This is crazy* she thought for perhaps the ten-thousandth time. *Relax and enjoy yourself* she fired back yet again. Her internal argument was interrupted by the sound of the doorknob clicking. Scully came to rapt attention on her knees, her heart pounding. Eyes downward, Scully could feel Lydia's gaze wash over her body, as every inch of her form was revealed. She looked up to see Lydia smiling approvingly. Scully desperately wanted to cover her sex, but willed her hands to stay by their sides. Lydia smoothed her skirt and tucked her blouse in for effect. Scully got the message: You have clothes on and I don't. "You're lovely, Dana." Scully uttered a simple, "Thank you." Then added quickly. "Mistress." Lydia walked in a slow circle around her, making a point of inspecting Scully from every angle. Lydia paused when she was directly behind her. Scully could feel the motion of Lydia bending down to look at something. She shuddered as a cool finger touched her lower back. "An ourobis, Dana? What an interesting choice." Lydia traced the circular tattoo with her finger, then straightened up. "Interesting indeed." Scully closed her eyes. Had she actually let this game begin? Was she really doing this? Lydia was piling Scully's clothing into a large desk drawer now. Scully turned half around to watch her. Without looking up, Lydia said, "Eyes straight ahead, Dana." Scully faced back towards the door. As she did, she heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking. Being denied physical access to her clothes made her feel even more naked somehow. "Don't worry, Dana, I'm sure I'll let you have them back at some point." Lydia circled back in front of her desk and resumed her inspection. She laced her hands behind her back, and eyed Scully up and down leisurely. "Now, Dana, whatever shall we do with you?" Scully stood stock still uncertain how to answer. The intensity of Lydia's gaze was making her feel immensely vulnerable, as if the woman was probing every inch of Scully's body for some sign of weakness. Scully looked up to see Lydia over by the wall. She was leaning on the antique stocks. Scully gulped audibly. "Do you know what this device is Dana?" Scully tried to clear her throat. "Yes, mistress. It's a set of stocks. They were once used to punish people publicly. In colonial times." Lydia frowned. "I'm sorry, dear, that's incorrect. 'Stocks' is the term for a device where the prisoner sits down. There's also a slot for the offender's feet with stocks. No, Dana, this technically is a pillory. But it's a common enough mistake." Scully stared straight ahead blankly. Would there be a punishment for wrong answers? She heard the squeak of wheels. Lydia was moving the pillory into the center of the room, affording Scully her first up-close look at the device. She saw now that it had only been made to appear antique. The wood was new and the supports had some sort of hydraulic suspension that would allow the device to be raised or lowered to the appropriate height. The business end of the device, however, was all too familiar: the interlocking beams with slots cut out to fit over the prisoner's head and hands. "You may stand now, Dana." Scully stood slowly, her legs wobbly from the prolonged kneeling. Lydia had raised the top bar of the pillory and was gesturing like a spokesmodel towards the opening for the head and hands. Smiling, she said in a gentle voice, "Come over here Dana." For a second Scully hesitated, her safety word dancing on her tongue. She quickly shook that idea off. Much as it might trouble her, something inside her wanted this. She stepped forward and leaned into the appropriate slots. Lydia slowly lowered the top beam and slid a small bolt into one end, locking Scully into the device. Next Lydia adjusted the height of the pillory, gradually bending Scully over, so that her torso was almost perpendicular to her legs. The effect was to make Scully feel as vulnerable as she ever had in her life. Her breasts were in free fall mode, swinging uncontrollably with the slightest motion she made. Her sex was on full display for anyone positioned directly behind her. And, lastly, her ass felt utterly huge, sticking prominently up in the air, completely defenseless. Lydia ran her finger lightly down Scully's spine, giving the younger woman a visceral shiver. Scully sighed as her breasts bobbed and giggled even more. "Yes, Dana, you truly are beautiful." Lydia said the words resting one hand on Scully's prone posterior. Scully closed her eyes tightly trying to fight off the unbearable excitement that raced through her veins. A hard slap to her left buttock snapped Scully back to reality. Was Lydia spanking her? A second and third spank delivered to the right cheek confirmed that she was. A fourth and fifth spank landed, the blows reddening the delicate skin of Scully's backside. Incredulous, Scully could barely speak, as five more spanks were distributed across her bottom, the last two stinging severely. Scully found herself panting, as Lydia provided a brief respite. "Now, Dana," she said in her best pedagogic voice, "the next time I ask you a question, I expect you to know the answer. Pillory. Not stocks. And, use of the device was not confined to colonial times. It was employed in Delaware up until 1905." Another wave of spanks assaulted Scully's tender flesh. Scully saw now that the brief interlude had made her skin more sensitive, not less. As Lydia, splayed twenty additional swats across her bottom, Scully bit hard into her lip, desperately not wanting to cry out. The spanks were steady and continuous, each one stinging more than the last. Finally, Scully gave in, letting forth with a stream of grunts and whimpers. Lydia stopped. Scully dug her fingernails deep into her own palms and pressed upward against the top beam angrily. She would have given anything simply to be able to rub her ass. Then a shudder passed through Scully as a wave of coolness spread over her backside. She closed her eyes in delightful relief, as Lydia applied lotion to the reddened flesh. "Pleasure and pain, Dana." Lydia said the words matter-of- factly, as she continued to knead the lotion into Scully's buttocks. Then her hand slipped between Scully's cheeks. Dana's neck snapped upward, every muscle in her body rigid. "Relax," Lydia cooed. "I'm just touching. For now." Scully tried to will calm over herself. But the sensation of Lydia -- of anyone -- touching her there was so foreign, yet somehow so welcome. Lydia's fingers glided up and down, spreading generous amounts of the lotion in between the firm mounds of Scully's ass, her fingers making sure to linger over Scully's puckered nether opening. After a few minutes the messaging stopped. Scully was left waiting, while Lydia busied herself in another part of the room. Shortly, she returned to Scully's view and leaned an elbow on the top beam of the pillory. Scully struggled to turn her head to meet Lydia's gaze. Lydia's smile was pure menace. "I'm sure you've realized that I've lubricated you for a reason, Dana?" Scully nodded as best she could, afraid to acknowledge that fact out loud. Thick beads of sweat were building on her forehead. Lydia held a large dildo directly in Scully's view. Dana eyed it apprehensively. It was bigger than most of the toys she'd bought in Albuquerque, though not all. But this device had one noticeable difference: every inch or so there was a raised ring or notch. Seven notches in all. "Do you know what this is Dana?" Scully's heart was now pounding. A slight draft in the office played on the thin layer of lotion that covered her rear end. "A dildo. Mistress." She said the words in a shuddered breath. Lydia stroked Scully's hair gently. "That's right. Though I prefer sex toy. Dildo sounds so vulgar." She paused again, rubbing the tense muscles on the back of Scully's neck. "This one's more than that, though. It's also a lie detector." Scully furrowed her brows. "Mistress, I…I don't understand." Lydia didn't respond. She walked to Scully's rear. Then, without warning, she inserted the first inch of the toy, its well-oiled path allowing for relatively easy penetration. Scully's reaction was instantaneous: she let forth an awkward, high-pitched squeal, as her opening rebelled against this unannounced intrusion. "Dana, do you own one of the these?" Scully took quick, hard breaths, trying to bring herself under control. "Yes, mistress," she uttered quietly. Lydia pushed the toy in another notch. The raised ring inflicting added torment on Scully's stretched opening. Scully felt herself begin to dampen as her heart continued to race. Her face glistened now with sweat. Lydia asked her next question, "And have you ever used it here?" Scully could only nod weakly this time. Mentally, she braced for the anticipated response. Another inch, another notch. This time Scully couldn't restrain herself. She let forth with a sudden, "OH GOD!" Lydia placed a reassuring hand on Scully's hip. "And, Dana, did you enjoy it?" Scully thought desperately. Had she? Yes, but not nearly as much as this. Cautiously, she whispered, "Yes, a little…mistress." The last word was barely audible. Lydia paused as if weighing the validity of Scully's answer. Then another single notch was inserted, as Scully bit down violently on her lower lip. A visceral groan followed as her muscle squeezed desperately around the toy. Lydia took an extra moment before her next question. "Now tell me, Dana, have you ever allowed anyone to touch you there?" Scully's mind flashed back to Mulder's blissfully thorough exam in their basement office. Was there anyway this woman could know? Scully closed her eyes, anticipating the punishment she secretly craved. Taking a deep breath, she said, "No." Lydia was brutal. She slid the remainder of the toy in all at once. Scully gasped silently, her mouth wide open, but unable to form a sound. She stared straight ahead, wide-eyed as her muscle sought in vain to acclimate to this new level of intrusion. "Somehow, Dana, I don't believe you." Lydia patted Scully gently on her reddened ass cheeks. Scully bit hard into her lower lip, still unable to give voice to the pain and pleasure that threatened to rupture her body. Lydia stepped back and took in the full view of Scully's efforts to accommodate the toy's new intrusion. She suppressed a chuckle as Dana wiggled her ass left to right, trying anything to adjust the toy into a more favorable position. Scully's breath was coming in short, hard gasps. Her body ached under the impalement Lydia inflicted, but Scully also thrilled in the double release she felt: her body succumbing to this forbidden pleasure, her mind rejoicing in the complete surrender to another. Her excitement was physically apparent and Scully knew Lydia could see the glisten on her inner thighs. Scully surrendered to that too: the feeling of being utterly exposed and vulnerable, of sharing her love of this illicit stimulation with another. Lydia's lyric voice broke the silence. "Dana, will you be okay if I go out for a few hours?" Scully's heart nearly stopped. Unable to form words, she emitted a distressed grunt. A few hours? Searching for a voice Scully tried to utter the safety word, then stopped. A few hours. Of ecstasy. Her breathing slowed slightly as Scully contemplated it. Could she stand it? Would there be anything left when Lydia got back? "No, Dana, I have a better idea," Lydia said the words from just behind Scully's ear. Then she felt Lydia's long flowing skirt brush against her naked thighs as Lydia took up position behind her. Scully's breathing quickened again. Was she going to...? Lydia rested a gentle hand on the swell of Scully's back, while her other brushed the delicate curls of Scully's sex. In a gentle voice, Lydia said, "Are you okay?" It was a deviation from the game to ask, but Scully understood. Lydia needed explicit permission for this. Without hesitation, Scully gave it. Erasing "Starbuck" permanently from her vocabulary, she simply said, "Yes." Then, in a whisper, "Please." The first moan escaped out of Scully with palpable force. The pillory shook as Scully reacted to Lydia's first true thrust. She extracted the toy two-thirds of the way, before plunging it back into Scully's sobbing orifice. From there, the strokes became short, but relentless. Lydia pulled out an inch, maybe two, making sure to let the notches torment Scully's opening appropriately, before thrusting back in. Scully's body shuddered constantly and her voice was a stream of low grunts. Her mind reeled at the intense pleasure she felt as Lydia intensified the reaming. Her ass was practically numb. Just as Scully thought she could take no more, Lydia slowed her strokes to a gentle pace. It was then that Scully felt Lydia's other hand. Lydia cupped Scully's mons first, letting the ample lubrication slide through her digits. From there, Lydia let her fingers drift to Scully's natural pleasure points, stroking and messaging her firmly and steadily. Her ministrations weren't needed for long. It hit Scully like a wave of scalding water, smacking into her body. She felt it grow deep in her sex, then rip through her limbs, an all-consuming fire. Her ass smoldered as her muscles gripped and tensed involuntarily around Lydia's toy. Scully felt totally skewered, the sensation a wickedly delightful contrast to the pure pleasure she felt in every other inch of her body. Her guttural moans were now loud, long screeches. She couldn't remember coming like this before: no name, no words -- just raw, primal sounds -- shrieks at the top of her lungs. The wave continued its long, relentless crash over her and for a second Scully thought she might succumb to it, almost losing consciousness. Then she felt the cool air of Lydia's office return. Vaguely, Scully realized that her muscle was free of its tormentor. She felt her opening flex, emptily grasping. Lydia's fingers had also withdrawn from Scully's velvet folds. Scully became aware that Lydia was unlocking the pillory. Lifting the main beam, she gently put a hand on Scully's shoulder, pulling her back and upwards. Lydia raised Scully to her full height and then gripped her in a firm embrace. Scully hugged back with every ounce of strength she had left. After a few moments, Lydia guided Scully over to the nearest armchair, all but pouring her into its thick leather cushions. She applied a gentle kiss to the top of Scully's head. Absently, Dana let her head nestle against the cool fabric of Lydia's blouse. Scully looked up to see Lydia pushing on one of the wall panels. It slid back to reveal a hidden room, which Scully now saw contained a sink and shower. Lydia smiled over at her. "Dana, you can wash up in here. Your clothes will be waiting for you when you get out." ********************* Scully let the hot water run down her back, its soothing heat caressing the slight ache she still felt in her ass cheeks. She leaned forward, helping the water find its way into her crevice where it gently kissed at the puckered soreness. Straightening up, she let the stream cascade through the dark amber of her hair, washing away the flat saltiness built up by her exertions. A fire stirred in her chest as the recognition of what she'd just done sank in. Her mind made the obvious analogy: like losing her virginity. She couldn't believe she'd actually gone through with the game. The extent to which she'd surrendered herself and handed control to Lydia was mind-boggling in retrospect. My God, she thought, being locked in that pillory… Scully searched her thoughts, trying to remember what day it was. Wednesday. Since coming home from the hospital she'd spent the remainder of the previous week sleeping off the effects of the curare anti-serum. More recently, her days had been preoccupied contemplating her newfound openness to her submissive side. Letting the water run down her neck now, she couldn't believe that she would be back at work on Monday. It seemed that so much had happened. Scully licked her lips, the afterglow from her orgasm still tingling through her muscles. She laughed lightly. *So much for non-sexual.* Lydia had made it perfectly clear that this would be a one- time event. There was only one alternative if Scully wanted to revisit her submissive side anytime soon. The Menagerie. Scully let the water message the sore muscles of her neck now. Could she really bring herself to do something so public? To don one of Lydia's elaborate costumes and parade around in front of strangers? Scully thought for a moment. Was there any reason her face had to show? Many of the costumes she'd seen in the Menagerie's showroom featured some sort of face appliance to go with the bodily accoutrements. Couldn't she select one that hid her features? Scully felt her heart race. "You're actually considering this, aren't you?" she thought. Quickly, her mind moved to the next obstacle. What were the odds that someone she knew might frequent the Menagerie? Slim at best, it seemed. The club was far too quirky for Mulder. No, her partner preferred his smut undiluted. She could expect to run into him in at a straight ahead go-go bar maybe (or certainly at a porn theater), but not at the Menagerie. Skinner? Unlikely. He didn't seem the strip bar type and, even if he were, the Menagerie would be an odd choice. Certainly, it would be unlikely that anyone her brother Bill might know at the Pentagon would show up at Lydia's club. There had to be a dozen more convenient establishments competing for the business of the local military personnel. A half-smile crossed her face. And if one of his friends did see you there, she thought, who among them would actually have the guts to tell him what his sister was up to? Scully felt herself grinning uncontrollably. She shook her head wildly in the shower stream, spraying water across the bathroom. Why not do it? What was there to lose? ***************** *I'm sure we can find you something to wear,* Lydia had said. Standing now before the red devil costume she first glimpsed over a week ago, Scully felt her inner fire reach an appropriate inferno. It may not have been the most beautiful thing she ever saw, but it was easily the naughtiest. A hand-made red leather bustier. Thigh-high red leather boots exquisitely detailed. Long red silk gloves that would pull up above the elbow. Capped off by a set of clip-on horns and, presumably, Scully thought (and hoped) a matching tail that would be attached by a wonderfully depraved system involving a butt plug. It would have to, Scully reasoned, for the most delicious part of the costume was the complete absence of any bottom. Between the thigh high boots and the bustier, the wearer would be completely bare -- her sex, hips, and ass cheeks totally on display. Scully wanted the costume desperately but two concerns held her back. First, she had no idea how much it would cost. Second, it was one of the items in the Menagerie's collection that left the wearer's face completely exposed. As she stood contemplating these two drawbacks, Lydia approached her from behind. Silently, she slipped an elegant red leather mask over Scully's face. Scully took it in her hands to examine the mask more carefully. It was primarily made out of two large triangles joined at the nose. The sides swept down to hug the wearers face and would provide ample coverage of her main features. Only her mouth, chin, and part of her forehead would be uncovered. Plus, she saw, the mask's pointed ends would complement the costume's horns nicely. "Do we have a match then?" Scully shook her head. "Lydia, it's wonderful, but I don't know that I could ever afford…" Lydia held up a hand for her to stop. "Nonsense. Consider it a one night loner." "I couldn't." Lydia grinned wickedly. "Come Dana, when my other patrons see how you look in it, I'm sure sales will go through the roof." Scully shrugged. She'd come this far in playing out the fantasy. Why not be a working model for a night on top of everything else? She smiled. "Okay, then this is the one." Lydia crossed in front of her, taunting playfully. "Now are you *sure* this is the one? You wouldn't want to try one of the animal costumes?" Lydia's grin was playfully evil. "Perhaps a fox?" Scully bit her lip, then laughed despite herself. How did this woman know her so well? In a quiet voice, she said, "I think the devil costume will due nicely." "Very well, Dana. And don't worry, there is a tail." Scully's cheeks reddened for the umpteenth time. Lydia flicked off the overhead lights leaving just the base lighting illuminating the show room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to tend to before tomorrow night. Be here by four if you want to get dressed before the others. Can you see yourself out?" Scully nodded. In an even voice she said, "Thank you, Lydia." Lydia smiled back and for a second, Scully thought she seemed a little sad. "It was my pleasure, Dana." ****************