FANTASIES SPOKEN
by Dorothy Gayle
gaylewind@wildmail.com

Keywords:  MSR

Rating:  NC-17

Spoilers: Not a one

Disclaimer:  Oh yeah, like I could create characters like
these?  I just like to tell people what they really do
between episodes, that's all. We all know it's true, Chris.


"He takes me from behind.  Grabs me as I'm about to enter my
apartment, one big hand covering my mouth while the other
removes my weapon from beneath my jacket.  I expect him to
threaten me with the gun, but he doesn't.  Instead, he slips
a blindfold over my eyes.  The elastic catches in my hair,
and as he adjusts it, his fingers are surprisingly gentle.
He grips my right arm with his free hand and tugs it behind
my back, not painfully far, but clearly warning me not to
fight him.

"'Let's go inside,' he whispers, and I nod agreement,
thinking my chances of escape might be greater inside my
home where there is more room to maneuver--where
surroundings are familiar to me and he is a stranger.

"As soon as the door closes behind him, I try to twist away,
but he is too fast for me.  He pulls me close against his
body, and I can feel his erection pressing into me.  His hot
breath brushes against the side of my face.

"'That was not smart,' he tells me, and a moment later I
hear the jangle of metal as he applies handcuffs to my
wrists.  My mind racing frantically, I tell myself he must
be some kind of law-enforcement professional, he knows his
way around a set of cuffs so well.  Either that, or he's
used to playing bondage games.  Or perhaps, to him, they're
not games.  I shiver.

"'Walk straight ahead.'  I obey, stumbling a little, but his
steady hand on my arm keeps me from falling.  'I still have
your weapon,' he reminds me, his voice never rising above a
low, husky whisper.  'Don't make a sound.'  I nod again, and
hear him chuckle.  'Good girl.'

"We reach the hallway, and he turns me toward my bedroom.
He seems to know my apartment as well as I do, and I wonder
if he's been spying on me, peering through my windows late
at night while I'm sleeping, or perhaps when I emerge from
the shower and walk through my bedroom naked. Has he watched
me while I've dressed in the mornings, sliding my pantyhose
slowly up my legs to my crotch--has he observed each night
before bed when I select which lacy item of lingerie I'll
wear to sleep alone yet again?  Does he know how lonely I
am?

"He guides me across the room, and pushes me gently down to
the bed. I'm wearing the suit you saw me in at work that
day--long navy blue skirt with a jacket to match, and a
white blouse.  When I'm lying on my back on my bed, I feel
it dip with his weight as he sits beside me. Something soft
and silky whispers around my wrists, and a few moments later
I am bound to the wooden slats of my headboard.  He removes
the cuffs and tosses them aside.

"I try to speak, and he places a finger warningly across my
lips.  'I'll gag you if I must,' he says in his soft voice,
and I close my mouth.

"I should feel more fear than I do, but he has been so
gentle with me that my overwhelming emotion is curiosity.
Why has he chosen me, why is he so gentle, and most of all,
who is he?

"I test the knots holding me captive and find that they are
secure.  I tug at them lightly at first, then more
insistently, and hear his mocking laughter again.

"'Do you really think I'll let you get away?' he asks,
rising from the bed, and with a gasp I realize he is drawing
down the zipper of his pants.  I can hear him undressing.  I
open my mouth, fully intending to scream for help, and like
lightning he moves beside me and covers my lips with more
silk.  He ties the gag around my head, telling me that he
warned me, and that I am a very naughty girl for testing
him.

"Now I am truly helpless, bound, gagged and blindfolded, and
I listen while he finishes removing his clothing.  A few
seconds later, his hands touch my ankles, caressing them
through my pantyhose, running up my calves and back down
again.  He slowly removes my shoes and tosses them aside,
and I flex my toes in fearful anticipation.

"His hands work up the sides of my legs, stroking, lightly
pinching, occasionally tickling, beneath my skirt and all
the way to my waist, avoiding my center which I am ashamed
to realize is beginning to moisten.  His long fingers play
about the waistband of my hose for a few seconds, tickling
my belly a little, and then, leaving my panties in place,
begin to work the nylons down and off my body.

"When my legs and feet are bare, he smooths my skirt down
again.  I hear him walk across the room and open a drawer,
and seconds later he returns.

"'I know your apartment inside and out,' he murmurs.  'I
know where you keep everything, and the nature of every
routine you follow.  I've had my eye on you for a long time,
and I finally decided to take you.'

"Take me.  I quiver at the implications of that little
phrase.  I hear a swishing sound that I am finally able to
identify as a scissors. He is cutting something.

"After a few moments, I realize he has cut my pantyhose into
two pieces, for now he is using them to tether my ankles to
the footboard.  I tug with my legs, and discover that I
still have quite a bit of freedom of movement, and yet am
completely trapped.

"What do you want?" I try to demand through my gag, and he
chuckles again.

"'You belong to me now,' he says in a firm voice, still
soft, still unidentifiable.  'I'll do with you as I wish.'

"I yelp a protest as I feel and hear him begin to slice away
my jacket with the scissors.  I'm at once furious and
aroused.  He hasn't hurt me, and yet the implied threat
sends a tingle down my spine. The idea that I could belong
to him, could belong to anyone, is exciting in a thoroughly
frightening way.

"When my jacket is cut to ribbons, and the shreds of fabric
pulled away from my body, I suddenly feel bare.  I am still
wearing my blouse, skirt and underwear, and yet I feel naked
before him.  I shift my hips, and try to tell myself the
movement is because I wish to escape him, and
not--definitely *not* because I am becoming so hot I'm ready
to scream.

"I feel his fingers touch one breast, through the fabric,
softly at first and then becoming more demanding, almost
rough.  His hand moves from one breast to the other, back
and forth, and then he uses both hands to squeeze them,
pinching at my nipples until they are standing up, little
eager nubs that are surely visible through my two pathetic
layers of clothing.

"I realize from outside myself that I am pushing upwards to
meet his touch, silently begging him to slip his hands
beneath the barriers and let me experience his flesh against
mine.

"'Not yet, little girl,' he advises, removing his hands, and
then he begins to slowly unbutton my blouse, inch by
excruciating inch, until I am writhing upon the bed, no
longer making any pretense of wishing to escape.

"When he has opened my blouse fully, pulling it aside to
reveal my bare stomach and my breasts still trapped in their
satiny prison, I feel him approaching, moving closer and
closer.  I squeal a little when he closes his mouth over one
nipple, sucking at it through the fabric.  The sensation of
having him and yet not having him is maddening, and I
wriggle in an attempt to get closer.

"He gives each breast the same treatment, alternating until
I am moaning behind the gag, arching my back to push myself
closer to his mouth.  He pulls away and I can't help
allowing a groan to escape, but he has only reached for his
scissors, and a second later, cool air wafts across my
breasts as he slices through the front of my bra.  He cuts
the straps as well, and discards yet another useless piece
of my clothing.

"Now my chest is bared to him, and I strain eagerly toward
him, hoping for his mouth again, but I am disappointed.
Instead, I feel a soft brush against my shoulder, tracing
slowly down between my breasts to my stomach, then dipping
into my bellybutton.  I quiver with suppressed laughter.

"The bastard is tickling me!  He's taken the blue quill pen
from the holder on my dresser, and he's running the feather
slowly up and down my stomach.  He teases the tips of my
breasts with it and I scream around the silk in my mouth.
I've never been so aroused and so frustrated all at once.
He runs the feather across my face, and I turn my head to
evade it.  It finds its way to my ear, and I scream again.
Finally, after long torturous minutes, he puts the feather
down.

"'Time for this to go,' he announces, tugging gently at my
blouse, and I hear the scissors go to work again.  My jacket
and expensive blouse are ruined, as are my pantyhose and
bra, and I have a feeling my skirt and panties are soon to
follow.  I know I should be angry at the destruction of my
clothing, but all I can think about is his mouth on my
nipples.

"I strain upwards toward him again and he laughs.  'Do you
want me to suck your tits some more?' he asks, and I shake
my head yes.  His hands caress my breasts as his mouth
alternates, and suddenly, he pushes them together and sucks
on both nipples at once.  I am going to die.  I feel the
wetness between my legs, and I am going to die if he doesn't
take me right now.

"I raise my hips, and am rewarded with a hand, stroking
softly down the fabric of my skirt, nestling briefly on my
mound and then retracing its path to my waist.  Between the
suckling his lips are still engaged in and the teasing he's
giving my lower body, I am almost senseless.  I writhe,
tugging futilely at my bonds, knowing I am at his mercy and
wanting nothing more than for him to fuck the life out of
me.

"At last, when I am near tears with desire, I hear the
scissors again, starting at my waist and slicing down the
center of my skirt all the way to the hem at mid-calf.  He
pulls aside the fabric and I realize, all at once, that I am
nearly naked, tied to my bed, wantonly and silently begging
a stranger to make love to me.

"He seems to sense my sudden fear, for his hands softly
stroke my body, easing my trembling and bringing me back to
the fever pitch of arousal I'd reached before.  He fingers
my remaining garment, as if to decide the best, most
effective way of removing it from my body, and then
decisively pulls the fabric of the crotch down and away from
me. He slices through it with the scissors, and I am
suddenly wearing crotchless panties.  I expect him to remove
the rest of the ruined undergarment, but he leaves it in
place while his fingers lightly explore my moist curls.

"He teases me, slipping his fingers inside me just a little,
then drawing back and sliding them down my thighs, until I
am sticky with my own desire.  My moans are almost constant
now, and my senses have fled completely.  I press myself
against him in an attempt to force his fingers all the way
inside, but he laughs and removes them again.

"'Are you in control?' he asks, a warning in his voice, and
I shake my head immediately.  No, I'm not in control,
haven't been in control from the moment his hand clamped
over my mouth.  His is the voice of authority here, he is
the master, and I am his to play with as he pleases.  I am
unable to vocalize these feelings, but he seems to
understand, for he gives them voice.

"'You belong to me,' he says again.  'I can do anything I
like with you, and you have no say.  I can fuck you, deep
and slow, all night long.' My breathing quickens at his
words.  'Or I can walk away right now, leaving you here,
helpless, wanting me, unsatisfied.'

"My heart stops at his words.  For a moment I am half-afraid
he will follow through on his threat, and when I feel him
rise from the bed I whimper.  'Don't go!' I scream in my
mind, but am only able to make inarticulate, pleading
noises.

"'Would you like me to leave?' he asks gently.  I shake my
head frantically from side to side.    I want him inside me,
over me, all around me, but I definitely want him.

"I hear and feel nothing for long moments, save his
breathing, and am completely unprepared when his tongue
strokes across my woman's flesh. I scream again, tugging at
the silken ties that hold me there at his mercy.  His tongue
strokes me again, and then plunges inside me. Suddenly he is
on his knees between my legs, his hands caressing my bottom,
his mouth doing impossible things to me.  I realize that I
am making a wailing, keening noise that goes on and on as he
slowly builds me toward my release.

"My body tenses as his tongue continues to stroke across my
sensitive flesh, and when I am so close I can see the
precipice I'm about to fall over, he moves away.  Before I
can moan my protest, he thrusts himself into me, impaling
me, pushing me so deep into the mattress that I can almost
feel the floor.  When he withdraws, slowly, so slowly I
could die, his cock brushes across my most sensitive spot,
and I clench my fists around the silk, my legs, wrapping
convulsively around his body, tugging at the nylon that
still ties them to the bed, pulling him further into me,
forcing him to drive in again and again and again, until
finally he quickens, his thrusts becoming deeper and more
penetrating, and all I can feel is him all around me, and as
he calls my name, he tears away my blindfold, and I finally
see his face...and he is you."

Scully turned to Mulder, noting with satisfaction his glazed
eyes, parted lips, and impressive erection.  He tugged at
the silk necktie that bound his wrists to her bed, while his
chest heaved and his skin glistened with sweat.

"All right, Scully," he moaned, trying desperately to inch
toward her and failing to loosen the knots that held him.
"I'm sorry!  I promise never to stand you up on a date again
while I discuss the basketball playoffs with Langly.  Now
please let me go," he begged.

She grinned wickedly, while she ran the blue feather pen
down his bare leg.

"Not quite yet, Mulder," she said firmly.  "First, let me
tell you another of my fantasies..."

END