Title: Walking the Dark Path: Book II
Author: Fantome Matresse
Email Address: fantomemaitresse@hotmail.com
Archive: I've already sent it to Gossamer and the Spookys; okay for 
Ephemeral, anywhere else, please ask first.
Feedback: Please.
Spoilers: Not a one.
Rating: NC17
Classification: Scully/O; MSR/Smut/Mild BDSM
Summary: Mulder and Scully explore a 'darker side' of their sexual 
relationship.
Note: This, and its prequel, take a look into a scenario that I can see 
easily. However, I know that it may offend some - it does contain a mild 
BDSM sexual relationship - if this will upset you, please don't read it.
Thanks: To the friend who encouraged me, had faith in me to tell this story 
well, and calmed me down enough to finish, and post this. You know who you 
are.

Disclaimer: Yeah, whatever



Walking the Dark Path: Book II
By - Fantome Matresse


This is not a position I ever expected to find myself in. I can't even be 
sure how I became involved in this - yes, it's a lifestyle, I suppose, in 
the first place.

Raised the good, god-fearing Catholic I was, as a child I knew sex was 
simply for the act of procreation. Nothing more, certainly not something 
'good girls' enjoyed. It wasn't until college that I found out it really 
could be fun.

High school was certainly a wash. Young, fumbling boys, driven by lower 
extremities, humping anything with a pulse and budding breasts. This did not 
lend itself to the discovery of sexual enjoyment.

I never successfully masturbated as a teen either. Honestly. I tried a 
couple times, but the guilt complex reared its ugly head too much to allow 
me to continue. My fingers would make their way 'down there' and just as I'd 
start to touch that small, nerve-filled area, I'd hear a voice telling me 
'good girls don't' and that it was a sin.

I was terrified for my soul until about age 19.

It was my first real relationship in college that changed that. Brett, who 
promised to take me places I'd never been before - and did, without ever 
leaving my dorm room. The first time he touched my clit, I about died. I 
also tried to stop him, but he wasn't having any of that.

He, in fact, was also the first man to ever spank me in a sexual situation. 
Oh hell, he was the only, until Mulder. But Brett - it was the first time he 
was going down on me, and I couldn't relax. I kept trying to push his head 
away. It just - felt wrong. Dirty. But oh-so good, and I didn't want him to 
stop, but he had to stop, but please, don't stop.

I think he got tired of my waffling, 'cause the next thing I knew, I was 
ass-over-head, over his lap, his hand descending onto my vulnerable flesh 
over and over. He kept telling me that I needed to learn to let go of the 
guilt, and that if he had to purge it himself, he was going to.

Part of me was terrified by this, but as he continued to spank me, harder, I 
found myself getting wet. When he stopped, his fingers dipped between my 
legs. "Ah, look at this, my sweet little slut," he'd murmured to me. I think 
mostly to shock me. Which he did. He showed me his fingers, covered and 
glistening slightly in the faint light from my study lamp with the 60watt 
bulb.

This became a part of our sexual routine rather rapidly. He'd come over, 
we'd start making out, I'd do something to tick him off (only sometimes 
intentional), and he'd spank me. He always fucked me after he spanked me. 
Once, and only once, he had me on my stomach and was fucking me - there was 
no other word, he never made love to me, he fucked me - and I guess I was 
extremely wet from the earlier activities. He pulled out of me, and 
presented his cock to my anus, announcing that my cunt was too loose for him 
to fuck properly. He got in, and it only took a few thrusts for him to come. 
I was crying from the pain of being anally penetrated, and from the utter 
guilt and humiliation I was feeling - and Brett told me in no uncertain 
terms, that this was it - he couldn't take it anymore, I was too damned 
guilty about everything, and he was leaving.

I saw him a few times around campus after that, but not much, and went on to 
have a few much more "normal" relationships. And I tried to forget what he 
did, both to and for me.

I never believed I'd go back to that type of relationship again. I was too 
strong, too independent, to be submissive to a man. In anything. And I set 
out to prove that to the world, and myself.

When Mulder and I took that final step from friends to lovers, I certainly 
never believed that I'd find myself here, with him. He was the most gentle, 
attentive lover I'd ever had. He made love to me, to all of me. Mind, body 
and soul were wrapped up into every sexual experience I had with him, and I 
never for a moment doubted his love for me during those times.

So how did we get here? He'd jokingly swatted my ass one day, a little 
harder than I think he meant to, as we were walking into his apartment. My 
entire body stiffened, and he'd instantly fallen into apologizing. Shutting 
him up, I'd drug him to his couch, and pushed him down, joining him. We'd 
proceeded to make love like any other time, but even that small gesture had 
reawakened feelings inside me I'd thought I'd buried. Mulder had gone to 
sleep soon after, and though I'd tried, I couldn't. I felt horrible that 
here I was with a man I loved, that loved me, and I was thinking about a 
former lover. If you can call him that.

When Mulder had awakened, he'd almost instantly asked what was wrong. It 
didn't even take much coaxing for him to pry the basics of what I was 
feeling, and my relationship with Brett from me. I cried, he held me. And we 
talked. I had never told anyone about that time, and it felt so good to have 
someone I trusted to tell, finally.

We'd then let it go. Mulder promised never to bring it up, and assured me I 
never had to either. However, as I'd cuddled back against him, it was hard 
to ignore his erection. Or my arousal. Even the painful memories had turned 
me on. And boy, did the guilt complex I'd managed to stomp into 
almost-oblivion rear its ugly head again. Not for long though, as Mulder had 
pulled me closer, kissed me, and told me it was just me, not what I'd said. 
I knew he was at least partly lying, but I accepted it that night.

It didn't take too long before I was dragging the subject back up again - I 
wanted to explore what I was feeling. And I wanted it to be with him. I knew 
the idea turned him on - I didn't know if it would go past that, into his 
enjoying it in reality, but I wanted to find out. So, it turned out (not 
surprisingly), did he. Neither of us were sure how to go about it, so I just 
agreed to trust Mulder, and let him lead, when he thought it was best.

Which, I suppose, is why I'm sitting here, on the edge of the bed, watching 
him, on his knees in front of me, submitting to me instead of the other way 
around.

Curling my fingers around each other to stop them from shaking, I stare down 
at the man on the floor in front of me. I'm not quite sure how to start all 
this, but Mulder assured me that it'd start falling into place as I went 
along. He trusts me, and I use that knowledge to calm the nerves that are 
popping up.

"Come here, handsome," I whisper, hoping to sound commanding. He starts to 
rise, and I shake my head. "On your hands and knees," I correct quickly. 
"Crawl to me."

He does, not making a single sound, and as he reaches my side, his head 
lowers, and he kisses my feet, almost reverently, then lays his cheek 
against my skin. Feeling a surge of something akin to power rising up inside 
my chest, I lower a hand, touching his hair. Giving him the same courtesies 
he offered me, I smile as he meets my eyes for the briefest of moments. "Do 
you want to do this?" He nods, once, and kisses the inside of my ankle. "I 
can't imagine anything going too far, but just in case - what's your 
safeword handsome?"

Looking up at me once again, this time holding my gaze, he sits back 
slightly. "Dana," he whispers, his tone so soft and trusting; my first name 
carried across his lips like a lover's caress.

"Be a good boy and fetch me my hairbrush," I tell him, swallowing back the 
emotions that swim to the surface, and tracing my finger over his cheek 
before gesturing toward the table at the other end of the bed. Dipping his 
head, he crawls over to the nightstand.

Watching the contrast of his slightly crooked, just off-white teeth closing 
over the handle of my smooth, polished dark wood hairbrush, a slight shiver 
runs through me. With that gesture, this all seems to suddenly become real. 
Returning to my side, he lays the brush in my lap, and rests his head 
against my thigh, looking up at me.

I'm almost a little unnerved by how easily he meets my eyes. Last week, I 
could barely look at his face. Perhaps he doesn't think things will go that 
far, that I'll take them to that level. Or he just knows the likelihood of 
us being in this position again is small, unlike the flip side of it all. 
"Come up here, and brush my hair," I murmur, shaking my head back slightly. 
Mulder has a thing for my hair. I guess it could be called a fetish, but 
whatever the case, he loves it. He's always touching it, and smelling it. I 
watched once, as his cock went from semi-erect to rock hard just from my 
sweeping my hair over him a few times. This was before the last time I got 
it cut, of course.

"Yes Mistress," he whispers. I realize that there's something almost sacred 
about the tones we use while in this room. Unless they are brought on by 
pain, we both keep our voices soft, gentle. The bed dips from his added 
weight, and he moves behind me, the brush once again held between his teeth 
as he moves.

"I don't want any bite marks in that handle," I tell him as he settles at my 
back. "Use your hands. I'll tell you when to stop."

The feel of the soft bristles of my favorite brush, the one that was my 
grandmothers, sweep into my hair, as do his fingers. It feels too good for 
me to tell him to stop, to just use the brush. I let him continue for about 
five minutes, before telling him to put the brush down, and to undress. 
"Move off the bed, around in front of me. I want to watch."

Ever the character, he moves, shakes his ass a little at me, and performs 
quite the strip-tease, despite being clad only in his grey t-shirt and a 
pair of boxers to begin with. The shirt comes off first, but slowly. Inch, 
by inch, it's almost excruciating to watch him. Once the garment is off, I 
can see his cock starting to poke out of the front of his boxers. He turns 
to the side, slides the material off that hip then raises it again. Turning, 
he does the same on the other side. With his back to me, he slips them down 
over his ass, pauses, lowers them the rest of the way, and then finally 
turns back to face me, his cock hard, standing proud and pointing at me.

I have to smile at him for the show, but shake my head at the same time. "I 
didn't tell you to perform, just to remove your clothes," I remind him 
sternly. Standing, I move to stand in front of him. "Now take off mine, and 
none of your antics this time."

The corners of his lips tug into a smile as he nods. "Yes Mistress," he 
mumbles again, as his fingers grip the hem of my shirt and tug upward. 
Quickly ridding me of my slacks as well, he leans, and opens the front-clasp 
of my bra with his teeth.

"What did I tell you?" I ask, trying for a sharp tone, as I push his head 
away.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, looking down at the ground. I remove the rest of my 
clothing myself, and sit back on the edge of the bed. He returns his tall, 
lanky frame to the floor, kneeling in front of my once more. Looking up, 
after a long moment of silence while I was debating what next, his lips 
purse once, then he whispers something.

"Hmm?" I'm not sure I heard him the first time.

"Dana," he repeats, louder this time.

What? He's stopping now? Blinking sharply, I look down at him. "Okay," I 
answer quickly. He doesn't move. "Well, you can get up now."

"You don't get it," he murmurs, his tone heavy. "It's not that I want to 
stop - that word isn't just for stopping. It's for changing direction." His 
throat muscles tighten as he swallows. "You're being far too light with me. 
This isn't what I want, any more than I think it's what you want." His hand 
curls around one of mine, and he lifts it to his mouth, kissing my fingers. 
"Don't be so gentle with me, the purpose of this is to find out how we each 
feel, in both roles. I might want to switch more often." He smiles. "But how 
can I know that, if you don't do anything? Mistress," he adds, squeezing my 
hand once, and letting it go.

Taking a breath, I nod slowly, and run my hand down his cheek, grasping his 
chin between my fingers. "Didn't I tell you I didn't want any of your antics 
while you removed my clothes?" His eyes drop, and I have to smile. I think 
I'm starting to get what Mulder was talking about - he =is= in control. "So 
why didn't you listen to me?"

I feel his jaw work under my fingers. "I wanted to taste your skin. It was 
just so inviting."

Good answer. Releasing his chin, I lean back. "Not an acceptable reason," I 
say, my fingers straying over the brush handle at my side. Picking it up, I 
weigh it in my palm, feeling it's smooth hard surface. I watch as his eyes 
track the motions of my hand.  "Oh, don't worry love," I assure him quietly. 
"You'll feel it soon enough." A faint trace of a smile lights his face for a 
fraction of a second, then is gone. Standing, I move to the chair, an 
ottoman just at my feet. "Come over here," I whisper, making a decision. I 
know that by taking this turn, we won't actually have sex tonight, but - he 
didn't want me being gentle, after all. "Lay over the ottoman," I tell him, 
as he reaches my side.

Another kiss to my feet. "Yes Mistress," he murmurs, his eyes sparkling 
playfully. His tall frame settles over the cushioned footstool, placing him 
directly in front of me.

"I think that impertinence should be punished, don't you, handsome?" No 
turning back now . . .

His head bows slightly. "If you think so, yes Mistress."

"I do," I answer him, somehow actually making my voice sound like a purr. 
This shocks me, but . . . I guess it fits the situation. Reaching down, I 
let my hand caress his ass. My fingers stroke, and squeeze, molding around 
his firm cheeks. I love his ass; I used to admire it, before we got 
together. Not that I've stopped now.

His hips shift slightly, tensing and relaxing under my touch in anticipation 
of what I'll do next. Raising my hand, I let it descend, feeling a slight 
sting in my palm as the sound echoes in my ears. Repeating the gesture four 
more times, I stop when his ass bears a pink tinge. He squirms a little 
under the spanking, but shows no visible facial reaction. I'm not exactly 
surprised by this.

Standing, I make my way over to the bedside table. Reaching into the drawer, 
my fingers close around a small, thin dildo and the tube of lubricant we 
keep there. Returning to his side, I chose not to show him what I'm doing, 
even as I'm sure he knows. We haven't done much in the way of anal play with 
him, but the few times I've gone so far as to insert a finger into his ass 
while we're having sex, I know he gets off on it.

Pouring some of the lube onto my index finger, I go about rubbing it around 
his anus, and slowly pushing inside. He moans, as my finger thrusts slowly 
in and out a few times, before withdrawing. Dribbling a bit more of the lube 
over the tip of the dildo, I press it against his tight ass hole. Under my 
touch, he stiffens slightly. "Relax," I tell him, pushing gently, not 
wanting to hurt him with this. He does, considerably, and my fingers push 
the five inches of fake cock inside him, to the flat, wide base. The deep, 
low moan he emits causes my pussy to clench in pure arousal. . "Good boy," I 
hear myself tell him, as I move, sitting back in the chair by his side. 
"You'll keep that there until we're finished tonight."

His head turns toward me, and I see the arousal glinting in his eyes. "Yes 
Mistress," he answers, and I swallow back a laugh, seeing as that's almost 
the only thing he's said to me all night.

"Get up," I tell him, nudging his side with my knee. "I want you to go down 
on me handsome. No hands, just use that amazing mouth of yours and make me 
come."

His body slides, almost as if liquid - only a slight catch in movement from 
the dildo - to the floor at my feet. Eyes still sparkling, he gives me a 
small smile, before leaning, his mouth fastening to one of my nipples. He 
suckles like an infant after milk, causing my back to arch and a low, deep 
moan to escape my lips. The feel of his lips and tongue . . . oooh . . . and 
his teeth . . . god in heaven, this man has the most gifted mouth.

Mustering strength from somewhere I can't pinpoint, my fingers push at his 
head. "That's not what I told you to do," I remind him sharply, even as I 
gently sweep my fingers over his jawline, belaying my tone. The slight 
stubble forming tickles my fingers as I grip his chin and tilt his head 
down. "Is it?"

He obeys this time, head going straight to my lap. "No Mistress," he 
whispers, his breath wet and hot against my inner thigh. Kissing me once at 
the juncture of thigh and pelvis, his nose buries itself into my pubic hair, 
nuzzling past my lips to brush against my clit. Feeling him inhale my scent, 
I allow my body to become limp in the chair, surrendering myself to his 
mouth.

He doesn't disappoint. Those full, firm lips wrap around my clit, and he 
sucks, much like he did to my nipple. The five o'clock shadow on his cheeks 
scratches my thighs as he moves closer, abandoning my clit to use his tongue 
like a mini-cock, thrusting just inside me. I hear myself whimper softly, 
and feel as he smiles against me. His attention returns to my clit, licking, 
sucking, even biting down gently a time or two.

With my fingers anchored firmly in his hair, I pull his head closer, and he 
responds in kind, his mouth moving more firmly over me. As he scrapes his 
teeth softly down the length of my clit, he moves a hand, slipping two 
fingers inside me, and pumping them fast, hard. The combined pressure is 
what I need, and still holding onto his hair, my hips buck firmly against 
his face as I come.

His movements don't stop until the shaking from my orgasm does, and I tug 
him away. With his fingers remaining inside me, I clamp my inner muscles 
around them tightly. "Did I or did I not say 'no hands'?"

"You did," he confirms, not moving away from me in the slightest.

"Did you think I was joking, or did you doubt your ability to get me off?" 
His cheeks flush, and his eyes drop instantly. "Answer me," I order softly, 
firmly.

For once, his head doesn't lift, there's no sign of defiance or willfulness. 
"Honestly?" he asks softly. I answer in the affirmative. "I wanted to see 
what you'd do."

My toes rub down, across his rock-hard cock. "I think that deserves a real 
punishment. You're intentionally testing me, and it annoys me." His cock 
twitches under my toes as I stroke his length once again. "And you really 
seem to need to do something about this. So, I have a proposal for you." 
Sitting up more in my chair, I pick up the hairbrush again. "My hand can't 
take punishing you. You, handsome, are going to masturbate, while I spank 
you with this hairbrush. I will stop, when you come."

As I watch, his throat constricts tightly around a deliberate swallow, 
before his head nods once. "Where do you want me, Mistress?" he asks softly, 
at least for all outward appearances flat out refusing to meet my eyes now.

"You may make yourself comfortable wherever you think you'll be able to stay 
in a proper position." Weighing the brush in my hand, I wait as he glances 
around, then settles himself back over the ottoman. "Can you reach from 
there?" Not answering me, his hand drops back and to his side, fingers 
curling around his cock.

As he begins stroking himself, slowly, I begin as well, raising the brush, 
and allowing the flat, smooth head to fall, slapping against his ass. He 
lets out a quiet gasp, his hand tightening slightly, still moving. His 
fingers stroke the length of his cock, sliding over the head, squeezing on 
the way up, as I continue to spank him with the brush, using slow, 
deliberate strokes, starting to get a feel for what I'm doing.

There are tears starting to form in his eyes and the movement of his hand is 
faltering ever so slightly after about my tenth stroke. I'm sure the spanks 
are driving the dildo deeper into him, and once I fully realize this, I try 
to stay away from the center of his ass for the most part.

That is, until I realize that he's moving his hips toward a position where I 
will be hitting him square in the center of both cheeks. His hand moves 
faster over his dick, squeezing and pumping as I spank him just a little 
harder, and right where the impact seems to thrust the fake cock deeper.

From deep in his chest, he emits what can only be called a whimper, as his 
hips begin thrusting against the ottoman hard. My eyes fix on his dick, and 
as I watch, he begins to come, animalistic moans and groans leaving his 
mouth, as his sperm covers the floor beneath him, and his hand.

Ceasing his spanking, I drop the brush to the floor next to my chair, and 
lower myself to my knees. There are tears on his cheeks, and his breathing 
is ragged, from the combination of orgasm and pain. The expression on his 
face is one I'm familiar with making, and I gently kiss away his tears. 
"Very good, handsome," I whisper, brushing my fingers through his hair. 
"Stay there," I murmur as he starts to move.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, licking at a stray tear, I move lower, 
settling onto my side. There's just enough space between the cushioned 
footstool under him and his thighs, and I slip under him, wrapping my 
fingers around his wrist. Licking and sucking his fingers and palm clean, I 
quickly turn my attention to his softening cock, thoroughly cleaning him of 
his come. His dick twitches inside my mouth a couple of times, but he's 
simply too worn out to get hard again. Not that I expected it.

My lips press against his hip once I've released his cock, and I reach, 
gently taking hold of the dildo, and slowly pulling it from his ass. He 
moans as it slips free, and I drop it to the floor. "Come on handsome, get 
up."

We rise together, my hands taking his, and tugging him to his feet. "Let's 
go lie down."

His head nods, and he follows me to the bed. Stripping back the covers, I 
lie down, and open my arms to him. Willingly, he crawls into my embrace, and 
cries the last of his tears against my breast. Holding him, my lips feather 
over his hairline, tracing his skin, and my fingers stoke both his back and 
his hair.

It doesn't take too long for him to calm, and raise his head to look at me. 
"Well?" I ask softly, smiling at him. "Did I do okay Mulder?"

We'd agreed, that would signify that we were done; my calling him Mulder. 
His exhausted eyes smile back at me, before his lips join them. "You did 
good Scully," he whispers back, leaning to kiss my mouth once, before 
settling himself just to my side, head still pillowed against my left 
breast. "You did incredible. Once you stopped doubting yourself and 
worrying."

"I was . . . " Closing my eyes, I laugh quietly. "I was afraid of what I was 
doing, until I got the hang of it," I admit softly.

His lips press against my nipple softly once, and his cheek nuzzles the 
swell of my breast. "I know. But it's okay, you don't have to be scared next 
time."

Next time.

He wants there to be a next time.

"Okay," I agree softly, not entirely sure how soon next time can be for me.

"Don't worry," he whispers to me, so softly that I have to slow my breathing 
just to hear him. "This will be a once in a while thing, on both sides. I 
can't, and won't give up the times that I get to just make love to you, to 
be gentle, and touch you carefully, and softly. And that you do the same to 
me." His hand comes up to gently cup my right breast, just holding it 
tenderly. "I live for those times Scully. Making love to you is what home is 
to me. This - partly, this is good for stress. It's something we both enjoy, 
but it's not going to take precedent over the rest of it. Certainly not 
right now anyway."

Squeezing his shoulder once, I have to swallow back tears. "I love you so 
much Mulder," I tell him, holding him closer.

"I love you too Scully," he answers, shutting his eyes and settling closer 
to me. "G'nite baby," he adds, and I can't help but smile. I've never been 
anyone's 'baby' before, but somehow, it seems fitting.

"Nite Mulder," I answer back, feeling him start to fall asleep against me. 
Allowing the feel of his breathing to calm me, it doesn't take me long to 
follow.

END