OH MISTRESS MINE 3 - STICKY PATCH

By Sergeeva [ k, NC-17,11th November 2001]

It had been one hell of a few days. A security scare at the White House had kept all the upper echelons of the Bureau on 24-hour call, and Walter had been entrusted with heading up the inquiry into why the 4-year-old daughter of one of the domestic staff had been using the back of confidential memos for her crayon scribbles.

He'd had two days of weeping secretaries, defensive security personnel and grimly pompous presidential aides all trying to keep their jobs and blame someone else. The little girl was mystified and more than a little scared by all the attention. At one point, she and her mother had both looked on the verge of tears, and Walter had simply cleared the room by dint of ordering the White House Press Secretary, an NSA bigwig and two Chiefs-of-Staff to go and harass someone who deserved it. They'd glared at him balefully, but left. He'd produced a bar of chocolate from his briefcase for the child, and organised some tea for her mother, wishing someone would bring him some aspirin for the headache he was fighting.

The bureaucratic process ground on. Heads would no doubts roll and he almost wished one would be his. He'd had exactly four and a half hours sleep in the last forty-eight, and drunk so much stale, re-heated coffee that he could still feel his stomach lining puckering in protest. When the alert was finally stood down, he'd driven home on autopilot, brushed his teeth with his eyes closed and fallen into bed like a felled oak. Three hours later, his radio alarm woke him to another demanding day.

He'd come into the office this morning, dreading the mountain of paperwork that would be waiting for him after his two-day absence. Another worry was that he hadn't been able to see Zerlina since his first incredible weekend with her, and he felt guilty about neglecting his duties as her devoted sub. The past few days had been exceptional, but long working hours were not exactly unusual for him and Walter was worried about how he was going to juggle the demands of his job with his desire to serve his Mistress. He felt today's headache starting as he pulled his overflowing in-tray towards him.

He worked steadily through the morning, stubbornly ignoring his throbbing temples. File after file was methodically annotated and moved from in-tray to out. Kimberly brought him some Advil and, concerned about the shadows under his eyes, translated his request for black coffee into a mug of her own herbal tea, which prompted a wry cocked eyebrow but also an appreciative grin. Walter had just decided he'd better work through lunch, when his intercom buzzed.

"Sir, there's a Mr. Cedric Bedworthy calling you on behalf of a Ms. Gray. He says it's most important."

He was nonplussed. Who on earth was Cedric Bedworthy and what was his connection to Zerlina? And what crisis could necessitate calling him here? He certainly hadn't expected his new relationship to make itself felt at work. Maybe something had happened to Zerlina - Walter felt a surge of dread at the thought...

"Sir...?" He realised his panic reaction had now lasted for several seconds. He cleared his dry throat, forcing down lurid visions of his Mistress' twisted body under the wheels of a car, or bleeding onto the Persian carpet in her beautiful apartment.

"Okay, Kimberly, that's fine. Put him through." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained...

"Am I speaking to Assistant Director Walter Skinner?" The accent was cut-glass British: languid and courteous and very composed. Walter's racing heart slowed a little.

"You are," he managed to respond. "How may I help you, Mr... um... Bedworthy? He stumbled over the faintly embarrassing name. The voice on the other end chuckled warmly.

"Most burdensome, that name, especially back in my Harrovian days - well, you can imagine what a gaggle of sexually frustrated adolescent schoolboys made of it. I've heard all the jokes and the bad puns... "

Walter's blood pressure was starting to climb again. Why didn't the man get to the point of the call? He cleared his throat again.

"Oh, please forgive me chattering on... you're a busy man of course - a most busy man, and I do actually have an urgent summons for you - from Ms. Gray, you know - well of course you do know, and she's told me all about you and I can't wait to..."

This was too much for Walter. At the word "urgent" his sense of dread had returned full-force. His Mistress needed him urgently and this idiot was gossiping as if they had all day.

"Mr. Bedworthy," he enunciated the name firmly, denying its ludicrous associations, and cutting off said gentleman's ramblings. "What does Ms. Gray need of me?" That was the only important question.

"Yes indeed, to the purpose of my mission then..." Walter gritted his teeth.

"And about damn time too," he muttered under his breath.

His caller continued in cheery oblivion. "She needs you to come to 113 Thurloe Place. At once, actually. It's in Georgetown. Do you need directions? The premises are really too small of course, but there's a certain charm..."

"I know it. But is Ms. Gray all right?" That was what he needed to know.

"Well, I don’t think it’s my place to discuss…"

"Never mind. Tell Ms. Gray I'll be there as soon as I can." He was aware of the infuriated growl rising in his own throat and with an effort unclenched his jaw enough to thank the still-chattering man.

Headache pounding, he looked at his paper-laden desk and buzzed Kimberly to begin re-scheduling his afternoon of case conferences, meetings and debriefings. Most of them could be postponed, but he was due to meet with the Director in an hour's time, to wrap up the report on the White House debacle. He could hardly ask for that to be postponed. He would have to plead a personal emergency, something he'd never done in all his years in the job. Thoughts arose of his faultless reputation as a workaholic suffering some damage, but he dismissed that concern. His Mistress needed him. In whatever crisis she was embroiled, it was him she'd called on. He felt absurdly proud. What had he said about life with Zerlina never being predictable, mundane or routine ever again? Prophetic words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Director had graciously agreed to hear Walter's verbal report on the security scare right away, so while Kimberly was efficiently reorganising his appointments, he grabbed his notes and raced up to the top floor, like a student with a last-minute assignment to hand in. He hated to be unprepared or to give less than his best attention to the job, but in truth the fracas at the White House had been a storm in a tea-cup and Walter's mind was already turned towards his adored Mistress and the unknown nature of her crisis.

Less than a week ago he'd made the journey up to Zerlina's penthouse apartment for the first time, and he thought that he was as prepared as he could be for the impact she would have on his life. He found that nothing could have prepared him for the experience of that first weekend. Something very powerful had been released in him. Part of him wished he could give himself up to serving her full time, but temperamentally he was no odalisque to loll naked at his Mistress' feet all day. He needed to be useful, to feel he made a difference, and he still believed that his job was worthwhile, absurdities such as the past two days notwithstanding. Most of the time he enjoyed it, felt fulfilled by it.

But he also loved being needed by his Mistress too... He hoped he would never have to choose between Zerlina and the Bureau, because based on his reactions this morning, his career wouldn't stand a chance. The mere thought of her being hurt or in danger...

By the time he managed to park his car near the quiet Georgetown street to which he'd been directed, he was tense with anxiety. There were only small boutiques in this district - expensive, exclusive establishments, whose elegant storefronts were models of understatement and designer chic. Number 113 Thurloe Place was a narrow building with bolts of dark fabric in the window and a pair of clipped bay trees flanking the door. What could possibly have happened to Zerlina in a place like this? Dreading what he would find, Walter stepped inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The store, if such it was, was more like someone's home than a business. Walter's first impression was of huge vases of flowers, a great many dark oil paintings and a room cluttered with end-tables, swagged chintz drapes and far too many knick-knacks. A short dapper man with a tape measure around his neck pranced forward to greet him.

"Ah, the renowned Walter, I presume! Come in, come in, no time to lose... I'm Cedric, of course. " He skipped around Walter, simpering as he tried to get his hands to the collar of the bigger man's coat, to draw it off. "Hmm, alpaca... really quite nice, too..." Walter felt his hackles rise in resentment, shrugged off the pawing assessment of his trenchcoat, and planted his feet firmly.

"Where is Ms. Gray?" he demanded. "Is she hurt? Take me to her right now."

He knew the effect he could have when he wanted to intimidate, but he still felt a gleeful flash of triumph when the little man blanched and dropped his hands at once.

"Hurt? Hurt? Whatever can you mean? I really can't imagine what..."

The middle-aged face was reddening as the older man puffed himself up with pique, jowls quivering like a turkey's wattles. He backed away from Walter, through an archway into an even more over-the-top room. Walter followed and the sight that greeted him left him dumbstruck...

Zerlina was perched on a flowery sofa, sipping tea from a porcelain Limoges cup and looking perfectly healthy. She beamed at Walter.

"Ah, you're here at last, sweet one. Meet Cedric, a very old and dear friend." She winked at the other man, who giggled, archly. "He's given up his afternoon, as a great favour to me, to measure you personally for your new tux, Walter. So strip off and let him get his hands on you."

Cedric had regained a lot of his composure and rubbed said hands together eagerly. Walter shut his gaping mouth, opened it again, words failing him. He goggled at Zerlina, finally managing to croak:

"You're not injured? There's been no accident or emergency? I thought..." He gulped. "I've reorganised my entire afternoon for a... a tailor!" He was incredulous. Zerlina's expression grew serious, her tone measured.

"No. You did it for me. Because I asked, because it pleased me. Do you have a problem with that, Walter?"

He hardly knew what he felt... He had been through hell since her "urgent" summons, he ought to feel outraged at being dragged from his work for such a frivolous purpose, but how he was here, Zerlina's clear eyes fixed on him, assessing his commitment and his devotion, he knew his answer:

"No, Mistress. I want only to please you. I just... I assumed..." His voice trailed off, puzzled.

"Whatever did you say to him, Cedric? The poor darling has been imagining all sorts of horrors - look, he's quite pale."

Mr. Bedworthy had the good grace to look a bit sheepish at this, but he flicked a teasing look between Walter and Zerlina.

"I said nothing about an accident, but there's no accounting for other people's overactive imaginations. He does look rather like 'the knight palely loitering', though. I'll get you some tea, my boy." He patted Walter kindly on the arm.

Walter was still coming to terms with the fact that Zerlina was alive and well. His gaze roamed over her glossy golden hair, her lush body and her beloved face. So distracted, he allowed Cedric to remove his coat and jacket and found himself kneeling at his Mistress' command.

"Walter, you angel, you were really that worried about me? You came because you thought I was injured... And you didn't hesitate, Cedric tells me." She paused, looking thoughtful, as if coming to some conclusion. Her fingers played over his cheeks, around his ears, in the fringe of his short, fine hair. She leaned forward to murmur to him: "Cedric is a drama queen, in more ways than one, but he's also a wonderful couturier. He'll make you a wonderful tux, my sweet, so be a good boy and don't growl at him so ferociously."

"Mistress." He bowed his head but his shoulders were still stiff with tension and the strangeness of the occasion. Zerlina sensed it.

"You're still unhappy - what is it?"

"Well, Mistress..." He hesitated, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

"Tell me, Walter, I won't be cross, so long as you don't keep secrets."

He rejected a dozen comments going through his head. "Well, um... I already have a tuxedo, Mistress, so it seems unnecessary to..." It sounded feeble even to his own ears, but he couldn't have put into words the turmoil of embarrassment, wounded pride, jealousy, relief, exhaustion and adoration he'd been feeling since he arrived.

"Is that all, you silly boy! I wish you to be dressed according to my tastes, and this tuxedo will be a little different. Now let's get on. Cedric is a busy man."

At this moment the man himself reappeared with another cup of tea, and Zerlina smiled warmly at him. Walter felt something scarily like a snarl rising in the back of his throat. He was more than happy to indulge his Mistress' whims, but he was damned if he was going to be friendly to this strange little man who seemed to have Zerlina's favour. He planted his feet stubbornly and elbowed away the tailor's attempts to unzip his pants. Cedric sighed pointedly and Zerlina wagged her finger warningly at Walter, and chuckled.

"What has gotten into you today? Now drink some tea, calm yourself down and let the maestro do his work."

Stiffly, he submitted to being measured, which seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, and require a great deal of pawing from Cedric's pudgy hands.

"Such a fine figure! Such strong shoulders and narrow hips. I'll wager this will be the first suit sir owns, to properly do justice to his physique."

The man's pale, beautifully-manicured fingers trailed across Walter's back and chest, knuckles grazing his nipples through the white cotton of his shirt. Cedric made a great fuss about wrapping his tape measure around Walter's waist – leaning in close and closing his eyes in melodramatic bliss as he audibly inhaled the scent of Walter's body.

"Hugo Boss, my favourite cologne. So perfectly... male!" He exclaimed breathily. Walter closed his eyes in despair.

When he was turned for the third time by a hand clamped over his buttock, Walter hissed an unmistakable warning and flashed the smaller man a look of such ferocity that he paled, visibly. Zerlina just laughed.

"I don't think he likes you touching him, Cedric darling. Your appreciation is making him uncomfortable. Did Peter never show you off to his friends, sweetheart?"

Walter bowed his head, remembering his beloved Master. "No, Ma'am. We only played at home."

"Well, I can certainly understand him wanting to keep you all to himself."

"Yes indeed," chirped Cedric, his composure restored, and his hand insinuating itself between Walter's thighs as he attempted to take an inside leg measurement. "Sir is so very... well endowed." The kneeling man's eyes slid covetously over Walter's cotton-clad groin. The close-fitting boxer briefs let every muscled curve show. "If sir would just relax a little I'll soon be done. We wouldn't want any of sir's considerable... assets... to be unduly constricted, now would we?" He licked his lips and nudged the end of the tape a little higher, shamelessly brushing the back of his hand against Walter's balls. Walter's jaw was aching with the effort of keeping his mouth shut. Zerlina really seemed to be enjoying his discomfort.

"We certainly wouldn't, Cedric. In fact, since you are so 'well-endowed' Walter, and I want you to be completely un-constricted when you wear this tux, perhaps it would be better if you let Cedric measure you without your underwear?"

Oh, this was too much. Walter felt like a racehorse at stud or a prize dog in a show. He dared to lift a pleading gaze to his Mistress, and saw her eyes twinkling at him. He saw Cedric's eyes wide with anticipation too. Zerlina waited until he reluctantly lifted his hand to the waistband of his briefs before she spoke.

"On the other hand, I think I want to keep your charms all to myself too. Cedric, you'll just have to manage."

"I'll use my imagination." The little man sniggered. The two of them chortled together, and Walter endured the rest of the tailor's attentions with as much good grace as he could muster, which wasn't much.

When the measuring was finally finished, Cedric and Zerlina went into a huddle for a long discussion of details. Swatches of fabric were consulted, and there was much whispering and giggling, and glances over in his direction. Walter hated the way this made him feel. He should be proud to do whatever his Mistress asked of him, proud that she enjoyed others' admiration of him. But he wanted their 'arrangement' to be private, something intimate and personal between him and Zerlina... He would give her his whole heart in devoted service, but he wasn't at ease with the game-playing, the teasing. He just didn't know how he was supposed to react.

Surely Zerlina didn't want him to respond to Cedric's outrageous flirting? Surely he wasn't meant to flirt back, to pretend he was anything other than her exclusive plaything? Walter was confused, and he knew it was making him surly and brusque; that, and the stress and exhaustion of the past few days. He felt cut off from his Mistress' thoughts and desires. Cedric was the favoured pet today, and Walter felt as if he'd been dragged on stage to play the straight man in some routine in which he was totally unrehearsed. Worse still, he felt he'd disappointed Zerlina and that was killing him. His headache surged back, he was cold and unhappy. Reaching for his clothes, Zerlina's voice stopped him:

"I don't think so, Walter. You and I need to sort something out first. Just wait for me over there."

His heart sank. He'd messed up and he didn't really know how or why. He'd got here as quickly as he could and done as he was told. Okay, he'd glared at Darling Cedric a couple of times, but he'd thought that was the correct response to anyone other than his Mistress looking at him that way... The week was just going from bad to worse. The Director was expecting a full written summation of the White House matter on his desk first thing tomorrow and since he'd lost a whole afternoon he would have to work late into the night to get it done. A thought struck him – what if Zerlina expected him to stay with her tonight? He could feel his blood pressure climbing again, and his head throbbing...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zerlina exchanged a look with Cedric and the smirking man gathered his tape measure and notes and discreetly left her alone with her sub. Walter was still standing where she had directed him. Wearing just his shirt and briefs he still managed to look impressive, standing ramrod straight, his gaze respectfully lowered.

She walked up close to him, so she knew he could see her elegantly-shod feet. She could sense the tension in him, and for the first time she noticed how haggard he looked, stressed beyond this afternoon's little ordeal. She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him flinch at the unexpected comfort. Poor boy, what was the matter that he looked so hang-dog and seemed to expect a slap rather than a cuddle? Something was wrong here, and that meant that she hadn't been doing her job properly.

Firmly, she pulled him closer still and drew his head down to her shoulder. She stroked his fine soft hair and his smooth scalp until he let out a ragged sigh, as if he was letting go some deep emotion. A lesser man might have given way to sobs – she'd known many that did – but Walter wouldn't cry so easily. That deep sigh was all he would allow himself. He kept his head buried against her neck and she let him compose himself before she gently pushed him back from her.

"Okay, sweetheart. What happened here today? You look as if the cares of the world are on your shoulders and I can see that my little game plan backfired badly. Come and sit by me and we'll try and sort this out..." She led him over to the couch and settled herself against the plump cushions. She gestured to the seat beside her, but Walter sank to the floor at her feet, kneeling close to her legs. He still hadn't looked at her, so she put a finger under his chin and lifted his face to hers. Dark, dark eyes, full of worry and apologies.

"Today was a test, sweetheart – of your willingness to find room for me in your life, your commitment to this relationship. And I thought I'd use the occasion to provide for a little treat I have lined up for us at the weekend – that was Cedric's part in all this. Now I expected to surprise you, to give you a difficult choice, but I didn't expect you to be this stressed by one afternoon playing hooky, and I didn't expect my dear, courteous boy to be rude to one of my oldest friends. Even if he does have wandering hands. So I want you to tell me why you are so upset."

It all came out – his lack of sleep and the demands of the last two days, his resentment of Cedric intruding on their exclusivity, his fears that he wasn't good enough to serve her, that she would end their arrangement before it had hardly begun, and finally, his worries about finishing the Director's report before morning. Some of the tension left his face as he talked. Zerlina kneaded at the knotted muscles of his neck and shoulders, his head fell forward to rest against her knee. When his low halting voice slowed to silence she leaned down to kiss him.

"Silly boy! I know your work is demanding and that you have responsibilities that mean your time is not always your own. I also know you can't always tell me what you're working on. I do expect you to tell me when you’re worn out and not fit for playing. I also expect you to tell me if you're confused about what I want from you. I can see that I made the mistake of not realising that you were still unsure about my feelings for you, about how committed I am to this relationship.

"There was some poor communication – I thought your previous independence and your status at work might give you problems with this level of submission. I'd been expecting rebellion and you surprised me with perfect obedience. I wanted to be sure. But you didn’t know how much of you I wanted, or what the rules were. We should have talked more last weekend. I apologise for that." She took his anxious face in her hands and gave him a little shake, as she grinned, tenderly. "You really have no idea of the effect you have on me, sweet one. In my defence I can only say that having you wandering around the place naked and willing and perfect made talking slip way down on my list of priorities."

The faintest of smiles softened Walter's solemn face at that last comment. She bent to his mouth again, a long slow deepening kiss to show him how sincere she was. His lips moved so softly against hers, so full of longing. She whispered against him:

"We'll do fine, but I want you to be happy so you must promise not to bottle things up, okay?" She felt him nod, shyly, and eased back to look into his worshipful face.

"Good. Now, I know you’re worried about your work, so you may go now. Leave it to me to placate Cedric. Come to the apartment on Saturday at four. That will give Cedric time to make any final adjustments. I hope you like Mozart, Walter? I have tickets for "Don Giovanni". We have to get you used to being shown off in public. Zerlina Gray's new beau will be the talk of the town!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday, 3.20pm, Walter's apartment in Crystal City.

His hand shook as he lifted the razor to his cheek. He set it down on the bathroom counter again and took a deep breath. Maybe that third coffee hadn't been such a good idea...? Without his glasses, he squinted at the bedside clock through the open door behind him. Shit, he couldn't believe he was running so late. He picked up the razor and tried again.

His week from hell had not improved after the events of Wednesday. No sooner had he signed off on the White House case than Mulder had got himself into a load of trouble with the authorities up in Minneapolis, over an investigation into disappearing corpses. Scully had done her best to extricate him, but Skinner had been woken from a much-needed night's sleep to soothe a very irate Police Chief and vouch for Mulder's credentials.

Zerlina had called him the following morning, and expressed amazement that he seemed to be at the beck and call of one of his own agents. He hadn't tried to explain to her his long and chequered history as Mulder's boss. Maybe he was a sucker for caring about the career of a subordinate at no small jeopardy to his own, but Mulder's self-destructive determination had always brought out his protective instincts and he accepted the stress as part of his responsibilities and position. One night's sleep was the least of what Mulder had cost him, and he could always catch up the next night.

However, the Fates had laughed at that optimistic plan. Things had gone from bad to worse when the Mayor and two retired congressmen in St. Paul claimed that Mulder had accused them of body snatching. Mulder had already pissed off too many local bigwigs and this was the final straw. They threw him in jail and made an official complaint to the Bureau. Skinner had been sorely tempted to let his infuriating agent languish until after the weekend, but the official complaint would mean another black mark on Mulder's record and Skinner had as good as promised to keep him in line after the last OPC hearing, so the buck stopped with him.

He thought about getting his Section Chief to sort the mess out, but Blevins' successor was as ineffectual and tactless as Blevins had been self-serving and suave. Sending Pickford to the Twin Cities would only make things worse, and give Skinner more bad PR to handle. He'd taken a flight up to Minnesota himself, used a combination of rank, steely resolve and political acumen to smooth the ruffled feathers, and brought a (probably only temporarily) chastened Mulder and Scully back with him.

He was dead on his feet by the time he got back to Crystal City in the early hours of Saturday morning. Frankly, the last thing he was looking forward to was an evening of opera. He wished Zerlina and he could just spend the evening quietly together, he would run her a bath, give her a long, sensual massage and curl up at her feet when she fell asleep... Hmm, sleep... how wonderful that sounded! Zerlina would expect him to be fresh, rested and good company by that evening. He set his alarm for noon and slid thankfully between the cool sheets of his big bed.

The next thing he knew, it was 2pm and he was groggily trying to fight off the last wisps of an exhausting dream about Mulder charging onto the stage of the opera house with a body slung over one shoulder. He'd slept right through his alarm and still felt drugged with sleep until mid-way through his third mug of strong black coffee, at which point the caffeine kicked in. It would be a miracle if he could finish shaving without spilling blood. He was twitchy with the stimulus of the coffee and disoriented with heavy yet inadequate sleep. Add to that the stress of wanting to be perfect for his beloved Mistress and he was a disaster waiting to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zerlina's apartment, 6.30pm

"Well, if I do say so myself, he looks magnificent!"

Cedric Bedworthy circled his model with a critical gaze, hands darting out to smooth the black cashmere across the broad back and tweak at the fall of perfectly-tailored pants down long legs. He lifted the back of the jacket and contemplated the sweep of fine fabric over Walter's muscled ass.

"Oh do look - isn't that a perfectly glorious sight?"

A flicker of tension along the big man's smooth-shaven jaw was the only indication of Walter's torment. Cedric tugged at Zerlina's wrist, insisting that she inspect his art herself. Walter thought about tax returns, budget spreadsheets and case-clearance statistics while a hand caressed his left buttock. He knew instantly that it was his Mistress' touch, and relaxed.

"The way you are congratulating yourself you'd think my beautiful boy was your creation, Cedric. You've done a superb job, as always, but how could you fail to, with such material to work with. And I'm not talking about the cashmere." She let the hem of the jacket fall, stepping close to wrap her arms around Walter from behind. "Walter, you take my breath away."

He was feeling quite light-headed all of a sudden. The effect of such unaccustomed admiration, he supposed. She took his breath away - the scent and sight and touch of her filling his senses. His cock was starting to react to her nearness, and since she'd insisted that he wore no underwear tonight, the light brush of the soft fabric was teasing him to distraction.

"Control, my darling, control. Calm that beast of yours for a while longer, we have an opera to go to." Her fingers curled over his groin through the fine cloth, and she laughed softly at his low moan. He thought he would either come on the spot, or collapse from the stimulation of her caress, but she stepped away and he opened his eyes and took a ragged breath and regained command of himself slowly.

Zerlina was wearing a floor-length sheath of blue-black iridescent silk. Bias-cut, flowing over and around her curvaceous body like dark water. Her pearly skin glowed against the glimmering gown, the milky curves of her bare shoulders making Walter long to kiss every inch of her beautiful skin. Her bright hair was twisted up with the sapphire pin she had been wearing the first time he saw her. A few gleaming tendrils framed her face and picked up the golden lights in her extraordinary eyes. From the jewelled crown of her head to the embroidered toes of her evening slippers, she looked like a goddess. Walter sank to his knees in awe.

"Mistress makes it very hard to be calm." His whisper was accompanied by a sweep of his dark eyes. Now it was Zerlina's turn to moan.

"Wicked boy. Perfect boy." She gave herself a moment to share a long look with him, then gestured for him to rise. "Find my pashmina, sweetheart, we really do have to be on our way. But later..." Her eyes left him in no doubt of her plans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house lights went down and the overture to "Don Giovanni" began, with its rising and falling cadences, like the sea sweeping the audience along on a wave of anticipation. In their box Walter and Zerlina sat absorbing the unique atmosphere of the spine-tingling music filling the vast auditorium.

On the way to the opera house, Zerlina had told Walter about her connection to this particular opera. She was named for one of the characters in the piece - the passionate and innocent serving girl who is seduced by the glamorous Don. Zerlina smilingly explained how her parents had been avid opera-goers and how she had actually been conceived in a private box during a performance of "Don Giovanni". Walter thought it was a little tactless to name one's daughter for a disgraced serving girl, rather than the aristocratic and dignified Donna Anna or Donna Elvira, but it was a melodious and original name and maybe it suited Zerlina's sensual nature better.

They had been rather late arriving at the theatre, Zerlina sweeping him through the foyer and into their box only a few minutes before the start of the performance. Long enough for Walter to see the heads swivel in their direction and the opera glasses trained on the eligible Ms. Gray's new consort. He blushed and made a great play of handing Zerlina her programme to hide his self-consciousness, while she beamed fondly at him.

Now, in the darkness, with the mingling scents of perfumes and colognes, the glitter of jewels and the intimacy of being so close to his adored goddess in public, Walter felt almost intoxicated. When the curtain went up, he was watching her lovely profile as the stage lights revealed the bloom of her cheek and the column of her creamy throat. He kept his gaze fixed on her until she noticed and slapped his leg in mock reproof, indicating that he should watch as well as listen to the unfolding drama.

He really tried. For a while he was lost in the wonderful music and in the joy of being with his beloved Mistress. But gradually the darkness and the warmth, the comfort of his velvet-upholstered chair and the stress and exhaustion of the week took their toll on him. His eyes closed, his head drooped...

The Don continued his insatiable seduction, his manservant kept count of his conquests, his vengeful discarded lovers pursued him... the arias echoed hauntingly around the packed auditorium, the appreciative audience were hushed and attentive. Most of them. Around the middle of Act 2, Zerlina eased her gilded chair closer to Walter's and laid her hand on his thigh. Slowly she began flexing her fingers over the curve of his muscles, stroking up and down, then extending her reach back around the angle of his hip and forward across his lap. Back and forth she stroked, moving the soft wool of his pants against his bare flesh.

She could hear Walter's deep breathing, it was delightful to think of him growing aroused, here where a thousand eyes might see them... She kept her eyes fixed on the stage, but her lips parted in a soft smile that had nothing to do with the seduction taking place there. Zerlina was hungry for her lover. It was time to explore a unique feature of Walter's elegant new tux.

Casually, she slipped her hand into his pants’ pocket. This was what she had meant by the tux being "a little different". There was no pocket lining. The opening in the cloth led straight to his naked skin, unprotected by any underwear, as his Mistress has ensured. One cool finger slid along the crease of his groin, then four fingers spread through his pubic hair while a thumb smoothed over his bare thigh. Hard muscle under such smooth skin... To all appearances they would look perfectly proper, but Zerlina loved the thrill of doing this in public.

She cradled his hot, heavy flesh in her hand. He murmured something, almost a groan. Mmm - she would see how good his self-control really was.

She'd perfected her plan over several nights' erotic fantasies...

...working him with her strong yet gentle fingers until his belly and thighs quivered and sweat stood out on his brow from the effort of staying silent...

...listening to his urgent panting breath, the sound making her wet, making her heart race and its pulse throb between her legs...

...watching him, so beautiful as he gave himself up to her pleasure - like their first time together when he lay at her feet, his dark eyes shining, his lips parted...

...his cock the softest velvet against her palm, incredible hardness sheathed in silk...

...so alive, so powerful, and all his beautiful arousal for her alone: surrounded by hundreds of people but alone together in the intensity of this moment...

...his senses centred on her loving touch, his beautiful body at her command...

...perfectly timed, so that Walter's choked cry of ecstasy was drowned in the soprano's crescendo...

...tenderly cleaning him up, Walter's eyes still closed as she lifted his big hand to her lips...

Fired by her own imagination, Zerlina finally turned her outwardly calm gaze from the performance on stage. The weight of Walter's delicious balls made her think of ripe fruit, full and heavy with juice. She slowly moved his shirt-tail aside to caress him more easily and lifted her gaze from his groin to his face.

Walter was fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The din of applause wakened Walter. He was disoriented and felt hot and headachy and vaguely uneasy. Still fuddled by sleep he tried to separate where he was from the dying shreds of the dream he'd been having. He focused his bleary eyes and took in the stage, the cheering audience and then Zerlina, standing close to him, a gloved hand on his shoulder as she peered intently into his face. Her other hand, still bare, rose into his field of vision and then he felt blissfully cool fingers on his heated brow.

"Walter, you're burning up! We'll take a cab home and leave the car here. Can you stand up for me?"

He tried to haul himself up from his slumped position, his heavy limbs protesting. He needed the chair back to steady himself and wondered why everything seemed to be moving at half-speed. Feeling slow and stupid, he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to mop his hot face, and felt it flame even brighter when his hand slid between the fabric edges and met hot naked skin instead of the expected silk lining. Suddenly a host of things became clearer... Cedric Bedworthy's insinuations at his last fitting that afternoon, Zerlina's command that he remove the tasteful black briefs he'd been wearing, and more importantly: snatches of what he'd thought was a really vivid erotic dream he'd been having...

Oh god - what had he done, or not done? He just knew he'd ruined his Mistress' plans somehow. Mortified, he dipped his blushing face and unsteadily followed Zerlina to the door of the box. She put her arm through his, but it was her strength that kept him upright and walking as they left the theatre ahead of the crowds. She hadn't said anything more except to murmur directions to him as if he was a sickly child:

"Two steps down, Walter - mind that pillar, hold the rail there, now don't pass out on me..."

Walter wanted to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to kiss her hands, her feet, and he wanted to lie down right there on the sidewalk and sleep for about a century. Maybe forever would be a better idea, now that he'd messed up so badly and spoiled the best thing that had ever been given to him... Just leave me here, he pleaded silently, it's all I'm fit for. A cab pulled up and he fully expected Zerlina to climb in and leave him swaying uselessly on the curb. Instead he felt himself firmly steered inside the cab, a smooth hand shielding his hunched head from the hard edge of the door-frame.

He tried to at least whisper his apologies for being such a pathetic joke of an escort. Zerlina put her fingers over his lips and pulled him against her shoulder, as she gave directions to the cab driver.

"Hush now, Walter. No talking tonight. We're going to get you home, and into bed and when we've both slept we'll talk. Tomorrow."

Her voice was soft and her fingers stroked silkily over his temple and cheek as he buried his face in the softness of her wrap. Walter wondered how she could possibly not be furious with him, or maybe she was just too angry to discuss it tonight. There was a note of something steely under the concern in her voice...

The same stern glint in her gaze made him keep his head down and his pleas for punishment unspoken on the drive back to the apartment. In the elevator he leaned gratefully against the cool iron grille of the door and swallowed down the sick ache in his stomach. He was alert enough to take the keys from his Mistress' hand and open the door for her, to take her bag and wrap and switch on the lamps. When he dared to flick a glance at Zerlina's face it was unreadable. He convinced himself that he saw a disappointed sadness in her eyes, though.

When at last she spoke again, it was in the tone of a harassed mother.

"I think we'll put you in the spare room for tonight, Walter. You know where it is. Get yourself into bed and I'll be in to see you in a little while."

No endearments, but no chastisement either. Walter's weary head couldn't figure out what any of it meant. He only knew he'd let his beloved Mistress down. He shuffled sadly off to the guest room with its lonely single bed, and began to take off the beautiful and unusual tux, careful not to let his hand slip into that open pocket and brush his disobedient flesh. He'd hung the coat and pants on the valet stand and managed to get his shoes and socks off when Zerlina appeared in the doorway. Faltering in his clumsy attempt to unknot the silk bow tie, he fell to his knees at the sight of her, his head bowed.

"Oh Walter... what are we going to do with you?" Walter heard her soft sigh and that pierced him more than any words. "Stand up now and I'll finish those buttons."

And she did, taking his wrists and unfastening the cufflinks and then slipping the tiny pearl buttons of the evening shirt out of their places. It wasn't an erotic disrobing, but her touches were gentle, comforting. She drew him close after she slid the shirt off him, reaching up to softly rub the back of his neck and his tense shoulders. The soothing caress almost lulled him to sleep on his feet, but after a minute she pulled back and reached for a big soft terrycloth robe she'd brought in with her. She helped him feed his clumsy arms into the sleeves and belted it around his waist, then bent to pull back the bedclothes.

"Under the covers with you, and off to sleep." She carefully lifted off his glasses and folded them on the nightstand.

Obediently he climbed into the narrow bed and curled on his side. The cool cotton pillow was bliss to his pounding head and he could feel the world dropping away into darkness and quiet as he closed his eyes. The last thing he felt helped ease his aching heart.

Zerlina's soft kiss brushed his brow. "No nightmares, sweetheart."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was silent when he woke, the room flooded with sunlight. Swinging his legs out of bed he took stock. He'd meant only to sleep until dawn then get up to do whatever chores he could find to make himself useful in some small way. He'd make breakfast for Zerlina and run her bath and maybe, just maybe she'd let him try and apologise properly before she threw him out of her life for ever.

Well, that plan was messed up too, as the brightness of the sunshine told him it was already long past dawn. He fumbled for his glasses and found a glass of orange juice, two aspirin and a note propped up against his folded wirerims. His heart sank, he felt queasy. The note was brief. He put the glasses on and the words swam into focus:

"Walter, I'll be back around three. Drink the juice. Do not leave. Zerlina"

It hadn't occurred to him to leave. Running wasn't his style, and there was music to be faced, he knew. He'd take whatever punishment Zerlina cared to hand out. Anything, if there was a chance to make amends. Despite being exhausted almost to collapse last night, he'd worked a few things out on the cab ride home. He'd let Zerlina down in every way. She'd arranged a special romantic treat for them, and he'd slept through it. She might as well have spent the evening alone for all the use he'd been as a companion. He knew now that what he'd thought was a vivid erotic dream was in fact real. This gorgeous woman had wanted to make love to him and he'd been snoring away as if nothing was happening. His Mistress had been generous enough to think of his pleasure and he couldn't even stay conscious! Walter was human enough to feel a pang at the ecstasy he had missed out on, but the most acute agony came from knowing that she must think he wasn't turned on by her: that he wasn't ready to submit his body totally to her needs, her desires... And nothing could be further from the truth.

The first thing she'd asked of him and he'd failed her. This most perfect woman had chosen to honour him with her affection and he'd shown himself unworthy. He'd finally gotten a chance to pour out all his love on someone wonderful, and he'd let it slip away... Walter thought he would give anything to have the last 48 hours to live again. Or the last week. One weekend of blissful enslavement was all he'd have to remember now...

Before he could wallow in any more self-pity, he vowed to be a model slave in these last few things. He washed the aspirin down with the juice and stripped the bed, leaving the room as immaculate as he could. The sheets and robe went into the laundry and the juice glass was rinsed, dried and put tidily away. Solemnly, Walter took his leather apron from the kitchen counter and rolled it up, tying the thongs with a wry expression of regret. The clothes he had arrived in yesterday afternoon (a lifetime ago, it felt like) had been left in his Mistress' bedroom, when he changed into the tux. He didn't like to go and retrieve them, and he was still debating what he should do for the best when he heard the apartment door open. Fighting down the butterflies in his stomach he sank to his knees where he stood and awaited his fate.

Behind him, he heard the click of heels on the parquet of the entry. He concentrated on the pattern of the silk carpet under his knees. A pair of navy blue pumps appeared in front of his downcast eyes. He couldn't help swallowing nervously.

"Walter. How are you now, sweetheart? I hope you slept well." Slender fingers felt his brow for fever, then urged his chin up, until he had to look her in the eyes. "Hmm?" she prompted.

"Very well, Mistress." That "sweetheart" gave him a fragment of comfort. He squared his shoulders and straightened his spine a fraction more. This was it.

"Look at me, Walter. No secrets now."

Zerlina looked a world away from the glamorous siren he had escorted to the opera the night before. She was wearing a beautifully tailored but ultra-severe business suit: navy blue, with a fitted high-collared jacket. The only softening detail was a silk scarf in shades of blue pinned to one shoulder by a silver brooch. She looked awesomely efficient and uncompromising. Walter shivered a little. If only he could apologise properly, explain... He took a deep breath, swallowed and began, looking steadily up into his Mistress’ eyes: a desperately quiet "I’m sorry…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zerlina had known this conversation would be hard. She’d spent a good part of her morning thinking about how best to handle Walter when she got home. He wasn’t the first sub she’d trained, but he was the first she’d fallen for so hard, the first she’d worried over so much. Walter was such a strong man and the gift of his submission was something very special, but from the start she’d sensed a vulnerability in him also, sensed that his self-esteem was quite fragile in intimate situations. Almost certainly he would have been brooding over last night and built it up into something irreparable in his mind.

His first halting words went straight to her heart and when she saw him visibly gathering his courage to say more she intervened.

"What are you sorry for, Walter?" She had a feeling he would cope better with direct questions. He swallowed hard again, but looked grateful for her taking charge.

"For last night, Mistress. For failing in my service to you. For letting you down." Still a low, pained whisper, but Zerlina suddenly realised that it wasn't the confession that was hard for him, but the memory of his failure, as he saw it. That fitted with what she'd learned about his character - he'd never shirk blame if it was due, but he wanted to be perfect for her and knew he had fallen short of that. However, she needed a few more clues to be sure of the course she had in mind...

"You think that you let me down?" Her hand cupping his jaw gentled the uncompromising question, yet Walter winced with shame.

"At the opera, Mistress, you wanted... I didn't..." he stumbled over how to put it delicately. "...you must have thought that I wasn't..." He broke position and swung his head down and away, blushing miserably. Zerlina nodded once to herself at having read her boy so well. Now she could start to undo the hurt. She coaxed him back to face her, bending down to look deep into his troubled eyes.

"Sweetheart, I'm not angry with you for falling asleep at the opera. You couldn't help it, you were exhausted and could have made yourself seriously ill. I couldn't forgive myself if I were the cause of that. No, you silly goose, what I'm concerned about is that I had no idea how near collapse you were until it was almost too late. Now why was that, Walter?"

Gratifyingly, she watched him think it through and saw the precise moment when his real mistake hit him, and the hot flush returned full-force to his adorable ears. "Hmm?" she prompted.

"Because I tried to hide it, because I didn't tell you."

"You see, it's all in here..." she tapped his forehead, "but something stops it coming out here..." her finger moved to his lips. She was conscious of sounding like a frustrated mother, or a kindergarten teacher, but her instinct was to make this vital lesson one that Walter would remember.

"You're not a bad boy, I know that, Walter. You thought you shouldn't bother me with something like the fact that you'd barely slept for days, that you’d been flying off to save Agent Mulder's skin yet again..." At Walter's widening eyes she smiled, dangerously. "Oh yes, I've been doing my research today: I have a few contacts of my own in Government circles. I got the full story of your nightmare week." Shaking her head in exaggerated disappointment, she led him to where she needed him to be, mentally.

"Walter, Walter, what did I say to you on Wednesday, at Cedric's? About telling me when something unavoidable at work affects our time together? I'm not sure that personally saving the career of that particular ungrateful subordinate is strictly speaking unavoidable, but obviously there's some history there, which we'll go into on another occasion..." Her shamefaced sub knotted his brows over that prospect. "I need to know if you're not fit for playing. I can judge when someone is making excuses and when they're genuine, and in any case, I don't think you'd be one to make excuses, not my perfectionist boy, so I want you to be honest with me." Straightening and taking a step back from him, Zerlina kept his full attention.

"Don't be sorry for succumbing to ordinary human weakness, Walter, but for hiding from your Mistress, the one who loves you and cares about you. Be sorry for not trusting her to know what's best for you, for scaring her last night." She was taking a risk, she knew, upping his guilt again, but it was a calculated move. His chin jerked up at her last words, shock darkening his eyes even more. "Yes, I was scared. You were fevered and dizzy and I wondered if I was going to need an ambulance to get us home. That certainly wasn't the evening I'd planned. You're sorry for that, aren't you, Walter?"

"Yes, oh yes, Mistress! I didn't think..."

"I think maybe you thought too much, my well-meaning boy. You thought that I only wanted an ever-available slave with no visible life of his own. But if that was the case, there are plenty of empty-headed pretty boys on the DC scene who would have been only too willing to play with me. I chose you, Walter because you’re so much more. You’re intelligent, articulate, you hold down an important, responsible job, you’re cultured, courteous and extremely desirable, and you’re a man, not a boy. All those things make you very attractive to me, but I can see that they are the same things that make it hard for you to admit when you have a problem. You're too used to having to be self-sufficient, aren’t you, Walter? Not asking for help, not admitting need?" She watched him reacting to her words – doubt, then self-consciousness, then shy pleasure, then doubt again. She was counting on his honesty to put this self-examination to good use.

"You’ve been mentally punishing yourself for last night, haven’t you?" He nodded, silently. "Even imagining that I would end our arrangement, yes?" Another affirmative, more a downward jerk of his chin than a nod. "We have to talk about this low self-regard of yours, my sweet, but first we have to put this behind us. I'm not going to send you packing, Walter." His eyes flicked up in question. "But I am going to punish you. I think you need that." Walter's face showed she was right - anxiety and guilt and relief all played across his broad features.

"I'm going to freshen up now. I want you to kneel here quietly until you're clear in your mind about what you did wrong and what you are being punished for. Then come to the bedroom. Understood?" A firm nod this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stripped down to her ivory silk slip, Zerlina was sitting on top of the comforter when Walter tapped on the bedroom door. Keeping her voice calm and neutral, she called him in; this wasn't about verbal abuse or humiliation. She beckoned him over to the bed, enjoying the controlled grace of his walk, but when he made to take up a contrite kneeling posture she kept him standing and obediently the big man stilled, hands at his sides and eyes cast down. A shiver of delight ran over Zerlina's skin as she studied her beautiful sub, recalling what she'd told him earlier about all the things that made him desirable. Even subdued like this, he filled the room with his virile presence and the thrill of his willing obedience was intense. It was an effort sometimes to hold to her role as dominatrix, when she longed to just smile at Walter and tumble him on the bed... Still, they were laying the ground rules for the future of this relationship with days like this and it was vital that she taught Walter well, gave him the reassurance he needed and set the limits that would free him to be hers, entirely.

Rising from the bed and taking a firm grip on his chin, she tilted his face up, making him look her in the eye. "You've thought about last week, about what you did wrong?" A muscle in his tense jaw jumped, but he didn't drop his eyes. He faced her and the prospect of his punishment stalwartly. "Yes Mistress."

Standing there naked he was incontrovertibly, magnificently male, his glorious body made for loving, but he wasn't just a handsome hunk. Intelligence and humanity shone in his gaze, and right now that vulnerability was showing too. Walter Skinner touched her heart in ways no one else ever had. And the most moving, the most erotic thing of all was that he chose to submit his strength and authority to her will. She was very conscious of what a gift that was and returned his solemn look with one of her own, reaching up to brush his cheek. "Trust me, Walter." It was almost a question as they looked deep into each other's eyes for a long moment. She read the answer she sought and stepped back, sure of her course.

"On my dressing table is a silver-backed hairbrush, some scissors and a small silk pouch, bring them to me." Walter's back view was as enticing as his front, she decided, watching him move across the room. The hairbrush - a heavy, ornate, antique piece - she laid on the bedside table. The silk pouch she opened to withdraw a coiled leather thong. Running the supple cord through elegant fingers, she moved close to Walter again and reached around him, tying the thong at his waist. Long tails remained trailing down over his muscled abdomen, which Zerlina snipped off with the scissors.

"There now, custom fit. Leaner than I expected too..." she ran an assessing hand down his hard torso, tugging lightly at the thong as she caressed down to his hip. "I suppose you also forgot to eat last week?" She'd tied the cord slack enough for her fingers to slide between it and Walter's bare skin and she could feel a not-quite-suppressed tremor in him as she pulled him close with his new leash, a flutter of heated skin against the back of her hand. It was time.

"There are many things I might do to hammer home the lesson I want you to take from today. I've had subs before who were wilful and rebellious and had to be regularly spanked." She noted how Walter's eyes widened at that word. He worked his jaw a little, looking so earnest and contrite she longed to pull him into her arms and just cuddle him. Not just yet, she told herself, adamantly. "I know you're no troublesome brat, but you're neither too old nor too big to be punished if your behaviour is unacceptable. I think that a good brisk spanking is the best way to make my point today." She settled herself on the bed and arranged the pillows behind her and alongside her thighs. "It will hurt, but then it will be over, and we can move on. What do you say, Walter?"

He'd gone a little pale, but he spoke clearly: "Please sir, um...ma'am, yes."

She had to smile at his slip. He might have been a recruit facing an irate Drill Sergeant. "Very well, then. Over my lap." She patted her legs and watched Walter hesitantly kneel on the edge of the bed then lower himself across her.

Broad shoulders and long legs rested on the pillows she'd set and his taut, muscled bottom was perfectly placed under her right hand. The heat of his body seeped through Zerlina's silk chemise and his weight felt good: her big beautiful man... The nervous tremor was still there, but he lay silent, awaiting her pleasure. Finding her own strong centre before she began, she rested her left hand on his head and stroked slowly down his back to hook her fingers in the thong once more.

"You will wear this from now on, under your clothes at work and here, when you are naked. It is to remind you of this spanking and of the trust we have between us." She tugged on the leather so he could feel it around him. "If you are ever unsure that what you are doing honours that trust, feel this," another sharp tug, "and remember that I want your honest best, no more, no less. I don't expect you to be superman, but I do expect you to treat my property with care." Her right hand was kneading his buttocks now, hard and possessive. You are very important to me, Walter, never forget that." Her hand softened as she gave him a few last calming strokes.

"Now, I am going to give you six hand spanks, six with the brush, then a final six with my hand. You can take that, can't you, Walter?" His "Yes Mistress" was muffled by the pillow and his folded arms, but sounded determined. "Of course you can."

She anchored him with her hand around the thong, took a breath and swung her palm down for the first stroke. Perfectly placed on the under curve of his right buttock, the spank bounced delicious firm flesh against her hand, making a satisfying slap. Walter shifted against her lap, and a low "oooff" reached her ears. She smiled fondly and took aim for the second time. A matching bounce on the equally springy left butt cheek and then, before he had time to react, the third and fourth hand spanks across the two muscled mounds. Her hand was quite warm now, and she knew his bottom was heating up nicely too. The fifth and sixth slaps brought a rosy suffusion to the golden curves and suddenly Walter seemed to settle. The muscles of his chest pressed her leg as he took in deep breaths, his pelvis angled into the valley of her thighs and she sensed he was starting to lose himself in the experience.

"Good boy", she praised him, tugging on the thong for emphasis and patting his hot skin appreciatively, curving her palm around the smooth tight flesh, "that's the first six over."

The hairbrush was solid in her hand as she picked it up, the old, polished silver cool against her heated palm. There was a raised design of twining ivy on the back of the brush and Zerlina knew that if she wielded the brush with skill, she could decorate Walter's scrumptious backside with the same pattern. The impact of making contact with his flesh felt very different from that of her bare hand, but there was still a satisfying resistance and sound. Walter made a satisfying sound at her first stroke as well - a sharply indrawn hiss of breath - and she saw his hands clench in the comforter. She knew that the silver-backed brush gave a deep, throbbing ache to the buttocks. It hurt and many recipients cried, but not Walter. Zerlina held him firmly by the thong and counted out the strokes.

One, two, three, four... By the time each cheek had a butterfly pair of rosy ovals, detailed in twining ivy, Walter was making low moans and with each response his groin pushed against Zerlina's lap. She closed her eyes momentarily and felt the melt and tingle start between her own legs. He was so perfect, her beautiful contrite boy, her beautiful sexy lover... Struggling from between the moans came whispered words: "Forgive me, Mistress," he husked, "I should have talked to you, told you..."

"You're doing so well, sweetheart, let it out, let it all out..." Five, six... she put an extra wallop into the last two brush spanks, and Walter's shoulders reared up, his head fell forward and he gave a deep groan. He was hurting, but riding the hurt, cleansing away the guilt and bringing the two of them closer.

"... I thought I was doing the right thing, not bothering you... ahhh..."

Again Zerlina marked each stroke with a tug on the thong and followed them with soothing caresses over the same blazing, tender flesh. "I know, my dear, I know... but you're my responsibility now too." And her forgiving hand bound him to her, making it about love, not anger.

Finally, the brush was set aside and she delivered the last six spanks by hand, as promised. She didn't hold back and Walter burrowed his head into the comforter as the stinging slaps landed on his already sore bottom.

"All done."

Walter subsided onto the pillows again and they both caught their breath. It was so beautiful, Zerlina thought, he was so beautiful, golden skin sheened with sweat, powerful back muscles shifting with every breath, and now the most exquisite rosy-red ass she'd ever seen.

She blew on her own palm, where the skin was itching with heat, and reached for the aloe lotion in the bedside drawer. A cooling blob went on her hand, and then she gently laid it back on Walter's glowing bottom. The contrast was shocking - he felt almost too hot to touch. Zerlina grinned wickedly and squirted a large cold dollop onto that sensitised butt. He yelled something non-verbal but heartfelt, but she just chuckled and began to smooth the silky lotion into his hot silky skin.

This was her favourite part of a spanking - bringing the sub back down slowly and lovingly, reaffirming the bond between them, and reinforcing the lesson, she added, mentally, deepening her massage and reminding her boy of his sore butt with her firm fingers. "All done," she repeated, "You took your punishment well and I'm very pleased with you."

Gradually her touches slowed to a single finger circling the skin then slipping between the two luscious cheeks. She watched Walter carefully. He was turned towards her now, flushed cheek against the white pillowslip, eyes shut, bottom lip just caught between his teeth. She repeated the slow slipping stroke along the cleft of his ass and yes, he flexed his hips and bit harder on his lip. Maybe we're not quite all done just yet, she mused. And what better way to end the lesson than with some reclaiming sex? Her finger pushed a tad more purposefully between Walter's exquisite buttocks and at the same time as she brushed against his anus, she twisted the waist thing lightly. He gasped aloud and his head lifted from the pillow, eyes flying open.

"Roll over for me, my pet." As he turned, she smoothed the silk of her chemise under him and parted her thighs just a little, so that his hot, tingling bottom nestled between them when he had rolled onto his back. Walter lay in her lap like the Christ in a pieta, but the mood was of a very different kind of adoration, of nurturing... Trustingly, he gazed up at her, still ceding her the control.

"How do you serve me, Walter?" A new question, getting to the very core of their relationship. He nodded - this one he knew.

"With my body, Mistress. I am yours to do with as you will."

She nodded too, beginning a slow massage of his strong thighs. "And your body pleases me very much, my darling." Moving to his belly, caressing the scars, old and more recent, the badges of his dedicated life. "Is that all?" Her voice was low, a dreamy slowness matching the rhythm of her stroking - over his hips, down through the wiry curls of his pubic hair, around but never touching his lovely cock...

"Mistress?..." His flush was from more than the spanking now, his breath was coming in shallow little pants as she teased him with her fingers and her purring voice.

"Do I only get your..." finally she touched his penis, "...body?" Sliding her finger alongside the hardening length like a cavalier parrying swords with a worthy challenger. She touched the beaded tip and deliberately brought the milky drop up to her mouth. Her other hand cupped his velvet sac, hot and heavy. With unhurried relish, she fingered him while he puzzled over her query, dark brows drawing together, jaw tightening to hold in the hiss of pleasure he couldn't quite restrain. Suddenly he smiled a slow, dazzling smile.

"Not just my body, Mistress."

She smiled a deeply happy, deeply loving smile of her own and took him in her skilful hands and made him come. Fast and hard. He lay gasping and she held him, tender and solemn. When his eyes focussed once more, she touched his cheek softly, to make him look at her.

"I want all of you. This," she tapped his glistening brow, "and this," her palm over his heart, "as well as this." Gently, she laid his cock against his sticky thigh. "What do you say, Walter?"

"They're yours, Mistress, all yours."

THE END (of chapter 3)

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