"THE TRAINING OF P"
Part Two by Kassandra
cassandraxf@yahoo.com

Pendrell's eyelids fluttered weakly, he turned his head from side to side,
but was unable to escape.  Something acrid was being waved under his nose.
Moaning, Pendrell tried to move, found he was still bound in the chair.
"Oh, God."

"He does look splendid," said a woman's voice.  "Don't you think so,
Arthur.  Really, Alex, I do love what you've done with him." 

Oh, God, it was all true, not just some depraved and pathological figment
of his imagination, not just a fevered nightmare.  Krycek smiled at him
kindly.  "Better?"

Better?  Better?  Better?!?  He opened his mouth to tell Krycek, but
Krycek's hand was gently squeezing his balls.  The timing seemed a little
inopportune. 

Besides, it felt good.  He squirmed, felt the thickness still inside him,
turned his head to see an older man, white haired, with a stunning blonde
on his arm.  "He does look very......useful that way, Marita."  British
accent again.  He thought he recognized it from the auction.
Scarlet nails scraped gently across one of Pendrell's nipples, making him
squirm again.  A little jolt of pleasure made his still limp cock twitch in
interest.

"Very sleek," she approved.  "I never would have imagined just how lovely
he'd turn out, all smooth and silky like this." 

He shivered when she ran her fingertips down his belly. Bit his lips as her
index finger traced the edge of the head of his cock.

It perked right up at that, he heard Krycek's low chuckle.  "He's very
responsive, Marita.  But he's mine."

"Oh, I know, Alex, I just wanted to...."  A sigh, a pout of scarlet lips.
"I just wanted to examine the merchandise."

"I'd be very intrigued to see how far you've taken him since this morning."
 The older man was smiling.  Eyes heavy-lidded. 

"Not very.  It took a while to get here."  Krycek's smile was......lazily
threatening.  "But he's taking to training reasonably well.  Just a few
little disobedient moments, eh, Brian?"

He swallowed hard.  Trying to decide which was the safest answer.

"Get those legs up," said the nameless Britisher.  "I want to see what he's
got."

Krycek chuckled again.  Made some adjustment to the side of the chair and
Pendrell slid down, pressing almost painfully against the chair, his legs
going up, up, until they were almost perpendicular to his body. 

"Robbie," Krycek murmured, "Do get Sir Arthur a glove." 

A glove?  Lifting his head, Pendrell saw Marita let go of her escort's arm,
move to stand near Krycek.  Sir Arthur moved to stand between Pendrell's
legs, looking oddly sinister.

"Alex, I've told you, you must start them out right, this is quite useless,
it's not thick enough."  Gentle chiding. 

The dildo slid out, making him gasp.  Thick enough?  These people were
crazy.  He was glad he was still stoned.  At least somewhat.  

Robbie appeared holding a latex glove.  Sir Arthur snapped it on, smiled at
him forbiddingly.   Robbie anointed the gloved hand with....it looked like
lube.  More lube.

And it suddenly became clear to him what was going to happen.  "Hey, wait a
minute!"

"Very disobedient."  Sir Arthur rubbed gloved fingers together, made a
disapproving sound.  "Alex, really!" 

Sighing, Krycek moved away for a moment, returning with a narrow leather
strap.  "Brian, I warned you, after all....."

He tugged fruitlessly at the bindings that held his arms above his head.
"Uh, look, I'm sorry, I just..."  Gibbering, babbling inanities, "I was
just surprised, that's all.  But you know, I'm a little sore down there, I
don't think I'm quite up to it, Krycek, that's all."

The strap smacked him on one thigh.  "Sir," Krycek told him regretfully.
"You call me sir, Brian.

Hell, he'd call Krycek the Queen of England if that's what Krycek wanted.
"Yes, sir."  Humbly.  "I'm sorry, sir."

He could have sworn that Krycek's eyes were glinting with mischief, not
anger.  "Brian, I'm beginning to think that you're deliberately
disobedient."  Krycek leaned over him, nipped hard at one nipple and then
the next.  "Deliberately.  Just to get my attention."

"Perhaps he is progressing more quickly."  Dry voice.  Sir Arthur. "It
takes many of them weeks to understand that." 

"Not Brian," Krycek muttered and leaned over him, suckling hard on his
lower lip.  Then his tongue.  A hand--whose, he wondered, a little
dizzily--was fondling him, stroking the underside of his cock.  The kissing
made him dizzier.

And he felt an invasive finger slide into him.

Press up against his--that would be my prostate--he thought dimly, unaware
that he was kissing Krycek back, quite passionately.  He bucked against the
finger, felt another one slip inside. 

Then another.....and another.  Stretching him more than anything Krycek had
done so far.  And the pressure was almost exquisite, so close to the edge
he couldn't quite identify it as either unalloyed pleasure or pain. 

Whimpering into Krycek's mouth, he bucked against them.  Yelped when, god,
a knuckle slipped past the stretched ring of muscle......oh, Christ, it
hurt, but it hurt so good.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know these things about himself.

And his cock only kept getting harder.  A mouth closed over it, and Krycek
kept kissing him.  He wasn't sure who was sucking him.  He wasn't sure he
cared.

And another knuckle popped through, making him yelp, closer to a smothered
scream.  Krycek's fingers pinched his nipples.  At least, he thought they
were Krycek's fingers.

He wasn't sure.

A third knuckle.  He arched, bucked, pulled against the restraints that
held his arms, unable to decide whether to push into it or try to escape it.

And Krycek finally released him to breathe heavily, staring upward into
green eyes.  "Very good, Brian."  Almost a whisper.  Suddenly, the chair
tipped further back, lowering his head.

He distantly wondered if it was possible to stay hard when all the blood
was rushing to the head on your shoulders, but there didn't seem to be any
need to worry about that.

He screamed out loud when the fourth knuckle popped him, stretched so much
that he felt open, exposed even more than nudity had done. And Krycek's
cock was at his lips.  "Nnnno," he whimpered, twisting his his bonds.
"Pppplease, no."

"Oh, yes."  Krycek's fingers stroked his cheek.  "Open your mouth, Brian."

Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty, he'd forgotten about thumbs, the thumb was
stretching him that last bit and he closed his eyes and just shrieked in
pleasure and pain, swallowed down Krycek's thickness almost greedily,
tasting the salt of pre-cum, pushing his ass into something that felt like
a goddamn fireplug.

"Ah, God," he heard Krycek moan and he nearly gagged as Krycek's hips moved
down and forward.

Whatever held him open narrowed abruptly.  In some conscious and sane part
of his mind, he realized that the man's hand was all the way in him, that
his anus was tightened around the man's wrist.

And in spite of everything, the very image set him on fire, he sucked
frantically, awkwardly on Krycek, found the rhythm Krycek was trying to
set, arched into the fist, then up into the warm mouth that was swiftly
withdrawn.

"I want to see if he'll come without direct stimulation," said the BBC
accent.  

Oh, fuck you, he thought raggedly and sucked harder at Krycek, took Krycek
in deeper until Krycek's hand cupped the top of his skull, until Krycek's
hips hammered down harder and harder and Krycek was groaning. 

He was groaning too.....Oh, Christ, it was going to hurt to come, he was
going to come, but oh, Jesus, Jesus--and suddenly, he was trying to scream,
Krycek cried out triumphantly and he nearly passed out again, drowning in
the salty sour slickness filling his throat, his body jerking like a gaffed
fish on the fist inside him as he came and came and came and came......

Limp in his bonds, he gasped for air, whimpered as the hand was slowly and
painfully withdrawn.  "You've chosen well, Alex.  Congratulations."

The white haired man was smiling.  Razor sharp and still frightening.  "He
should be extraordinarily trainable."

Pendrell let his eyes close, jumped as a proprietary hand stroked his
belly, still slick with cum.  

"I think so."  Krycek's voice was husky.  He jumped and whimpered again
when that hand moved to pinch a nipple.  "I think Brian and I will do very
well together indeed." 

Very well.  Still panting, Pendrell thought about that.  He'd been
abducted.  Humiliated.  Violated. 

And it was more and better sex than he'd had in the last six months.

God was punishing him for something.

And if he could just figure out what, he might stand a chance of surviving
it all.  Although he was probably more in danger of a massive heart attack
than murder.

The voices moved away, leaving him to drift, to doze. 

Robbie woke him, tipping the chair back into place.  "Time for a bath,
young Brian," he told Pendrell, the faintest sympathy coloring his voice.

"Another one?" Pendrell asked blearily.  "Can't I just have a shower?"

"I'm afraid only masters are permitted to shower," Robbie informed him.
"Although Master Krycek may, at times, take you into his with him."

Faint quirk of Robbie's mouth which boded little good.

What the hell, at least he'd be clean.  Letting himself be led back to the
bathroom, he resigned himself to it.  Hot water revived his spirits, even
if it doused the last spark of energy he had.  

To his alarm, Krycek was sitting on the foot of the bed when Robbie led him
back to the bedroom.  Surely, not even Krycek could get it back up again
THIS soon.

Could he?

He nearly whimpered, morally certain that *he* wasn't going to be able to.
Hell, he wasn't going to be able to sit down for a week or so.  Or more.

Forget lab stools.

On the bed beside Krycek were what looked like rolls of bandages.  No,
Krycek was playing with one, it looked....silky.  Pale in color, almost
translucent.

Krycek smiled at him, not menacingly, but.....dreamily  "Is he all ready
for the night, Robbie?"

"Yes, sir.  He's quite clean, inside and out, he's urinated, I've watered
and fed him."

Krycek's smile broadened.  "Good.  Come here, Brian." 

Fed and watered.  He smoldered helplessly at Krycek.  He wasn't a goddamned
dog, whatever Mulder and Scully might think.

But he obeyed.  His feet carried him forward while he was still
considering.  Clearly, his body was confused, associating Krycek with new
and pleasurable experiences.  Oh, hell, maybe Krycek was right.  He might
as well relax and enjoy it.

Puzzlingly, all Krycek did was lead him to the side of the bed by the chain
attached to his collar.  The chain was fastened to a hook in the wall, and
his hands were finally freed. 

Gentle hands rubbed his arms.  "Are they cramping?  No?  Good.  The bath
did you good."

A little baffled, he nodded.

Turning toward Robbie, Krycek held out his hand.  Was handed a roll of the
creamy pale silken fabric.  

He watched, completely perplexed, as Krycek took one of his hands and began
wrapping it.  Each finger individually, the palm of his hand and then his
thumb, his wrist.

And panic hit, he yanked his hand out of Krycek's, yelling incoherently,
thrashing as he tried to get free of both the chain and Krycek. 

Robbie promptly landed on him with all his weight and Robbie, despite his
name, was no lightweight.  Probably more than two hundred pounds of pure
muscle, Pendrell thought, lightheaded with terror and rage.  He twitched,
but there was no way to move, to escape.  And once Krycek had recovered his
aplomb and the wrappings, he had continued.  His forearm disappeared.

His shoulder.

Robbie shifted.  His feet vanished under the creamy silk.

His calves. 

His thighs.

His other arm.

Robbie knelt across his legs while Krycek began on his torso.  Held him
taut, just off the bed enough that his torso *could* be wrapped. 

He began to whimper as his throat was covered.  As his mouth was covered.
He began to panic, to hyperventilate as his nose vanished beneath it.

Tears leaking, wetting the silk.

Krycek cupped his cheek.  "Brian, Brian, you're okay, this is thin enough
that you can breathe.  You can even see through it.  You're doing this to
yourself, take a long deep breath.

Whimpering, he tried.  Stared into green eyes that were unexpectedly kind.  

And tried to slow his breathing down.

"Deep breath," Krycek crooned.  "That's the way, my Brian, deep slow breath."

But he calmed down.

The only things left bare on him were his groin and his buttocks.
Something large and thick pushed into him, making him whimper.  His arms
had been crossed and bound to his chest.

A warm mouth closed over him, teasing him back to life. 

Peculiarly, while he felt more defenseless, he also felt.....strangely
free.  He was faceless.  Unidentifiable. 

Unrecognizable.

And as Krycek worked him, he arched up into it giddily.  Fucking Krycek's
mouth the way Krycek had fucked his. Albeit with considerably less power in
his control. 

Krycek twisted the phallus inside him, urging him on.  And even though he
was undeniably sore and stretched, it worked, he thrashed helplessly when
his orgasm struck like a lightning bolt down his spine.

And Krycek's mouth gentled immediately, sucking lightly.  Krycek's fingers
tugged gently at his scrotum, rolling each testicle carefully.

And then, while he was still recovering, they lifted him.  Carried him
to.....it looked like a box.  Like a coffin.

"Don't be afraid," Krycek soothed, when he panicked, fighting them
wordlessly.  "Brian, we aren't going to put the lid on. Abruptly, Krycek
held him tightly.  "Don't be afraid, Brian."  Soothingly.  "I won't ever
put the lid on.  Unless you're disobedient.  I don't ever want to hurt you,
Brian, but I'll have to punish you if you're bad."  

He was trembling convulsively.  

"But you've done very well tonight.  It is, after all, your first night in
training, you're allowed some lenience."

Instead of reassuring him, it unnerved him further.

The box was.....shaped like a sarcophagus.  But padded inside.
Surprisingly comfortable.

Helplessly, he lay on his back.  Hearing the thud of his pulse.  Staring up
into Krycek's eyes.

Maybe he did need to trust Krycek.  Maybe.....maybe if he was very, very
good, Krycek would never need to put the sarcophagus lid on.

He felt the pressure of Krycek's lips on his forehead.  Whimpered as Krycek
drew back.

"Shhhh," Krycek put a finger to his own lips.  "You need to sleep, sweet
Brian.  Rest.  We'll play some more tomorrow."

In spite of his terror, he felt his cock throb.  Moaned in shame

The light went out.  He heard movement, soft laughter and then the rustle
of bedclothes as the door to the bedroom closed.   

Leaving him in darkness.

With only the sound of his own heartbeat to keep him company.

~~~~~~~
continued in Part Three...

Please send all comments to: cassandraxf@yahoo.com