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Summary: When someone begins the descent into depravity, who is there to
catch them - even if they want to be caught? ... Scully is blackmailed by
a Consortium agent who has a very unique hold over her.



X-Files: Dana's Descent (M+F, MF, mc, viol)
by Adrian D. Ives ([email protected])

As she fought her way out of the darkness, and struggled up towards the tiny
glimmer of light that beckoned her, she knew that she was fighting for her
very existence. Fighting to regain all that was her.

All that made her corporeal.

It seemed that the darkness had her, and it would not let her go. And, in a
way, she was almost glad of that. It would, after all, be so sweet to be
able to sink back into the night again. To become lost in the anonymity of
non-existence. To never again accept the awesome responsibility of her place
in the grand scheme of things. No standards to meet. No rules to obey. No
expectations to live up to.

But it was not to be. The light was strong, and it beckoned her relentlessly.

Her head was pounding, her stomach churning, and her mouth was dry and stale.
She licked her lips in an effort to generate moisture. It took her a few
seconds to place the faintly salty tang on them. It had been awhile, but
there was no mistaking it. Semen. She had semen in her mouth, or at least the
aftertaste of it.

She rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. Her body ached all over. And the
very personal places that she was sore in, only added to her mounting sense
of horror. She groaned her discomfort out loud, as if giving voice to it
would somehow purge her, wash her clean - render Dana Katherine Scully fresh
and sweet and pure again.

As her vision adjusted to the grey light seeping in through the half- drawn
blinds, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. Definitely not her
apartment. Not even Mulder's apartment. Not an apartment at all, in fact.

A motel room. A cheap, tacky, motel room.

She propped herself up on her elbows, and pushed her hair out of her face.
Finding it sticky and damp, she held her fingers up to her nose and sniffed,
cautiously, already fearing the worst. More semen.

Her mind was already working frantically, racing ahead to draw conclusions
from the few facts that she had available to her. None of them were nice
conclusions. It was either rape, or else she'd really let herself go, and
the orgasms had been so terrific that they'd left her with temporary amnesia.

Scully had never had an orgasm that good. Not one that she could remember
anyway.

Dana, this is not a good time for your famed dry wit.

Somehow she wasn't at all surprised to find that she was naked, and sprawled
untidily amongst a crumpled mass of black cotton sheets. Cotton. Not silk.
Cheap sheets in a cheap motel. Cheap and tacky. The sheets were stained. A
mixture of semen and, probably, her own secretions and sweat.

Was I drugged?

As the remainder of her senses slowly started coming on line again, she
experienced the horrible and sudden realisation that she stank of sex. Reeked
of cum and sweat. Theirs and hers. (She assumed 'theirs' and not just 'his' -
the evidence was pretty strong that she'd shared a bed with several men).

As she started scrambling off the bed, the final ingredient of her nightmare
stared her in the face. A video camera set up on a tripod, standing,
accusingly, at the end of the bed. Frantically, she crawled towards it and
dragged it over so that it fell beside her. With panic coursing through her
veins, she pushed EJECT, only to find herself staring, open-mouthed, into
the empty tape mechanism.

I need a shower, she thought. I'll feel better after a shower. Some memory
recall would be helpful too. Strike that. I don't want to know. I just don't.
I've made a mistake, obviously. I've gone too far. Clean up. Move on. Chalk
it up to experience. Something like this has been on the cards for a long
time.

She shook her head as if trying to eject a troublesome insect from her hair.
There was a memory there. Half submerged. Half obscured by an indistinct
cloud of opacity that drifted from point to point amidst the sea of her
consciousness. Every time she thought that it would come into focus, the
cloud drifted back and denied her the clarity. Like a dead cell, a floater,
drifting around in the eye, tenaciously finding its way back to the same
spot.

A night club. Dressed sharp (for Scully). Strike that. Dressed slutty.
Dressed like an advertisement. A beacon for sex. I'm here. I'm available.
Come and take me. She glanced around the room, her eyes eventually coming
to rest on the black mini-dress, draped untidily over the back of a chair,
along with her panties and a small shoulder bag.

Was that me?

Scully remembered paying for it on her American Express card. The dress,
and the panties. And some scent? The memories became indistinct again. Lost
amidst the background noise.

I really need that shower. And then I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
And then I have to get the fuck out of here.

I need-

Her cellphone rang. She rummaged around amongst the sheets, trying to find
it. Eventually the sound drew her to the small shoulder bag. She crawled
across the room and retrieved it. "Scully."

"Hey, Scully. How ya' doin?"

"Mulder." Her heart sank.

"Have you forgotten what day it is?"

"Uh -"

Day? She couldn't even remember what month it was!

"We're due in court in a little under ... twenty minutes."

"Where are you, Mulder?"

"Outside in the parking lot. Where we arranged. Hey, how did you get yourself
booked into a dump like this, anyhow?"

She remembered making a call to his cellphone. One hand over her ear, as
she'd huddled into a dark corner in the noisy night club. She'd told him the
address. Read it from the card that the man had given her. Man? His face was
unclear. She remembered the voice, though. Cool and vaguely European.

"Got some coffee here," Mulder added.

Coffee!

"Want me to come over?"

"Yeah - uh - NO!"

"Scully, you alright?"

"... I'm fine, Mulder. Just a little tired ... I'll be out in fifteen
minutes."

"Hey, that doesn't give us much time."

"Later, Mulder." She broke the connection, and allowed her head to fall
forward limply, shamefully. "Later."

* * *

"Mulder, what are we doing here?" She looked, tiredly, at her partner, as
they both sat waiting in the hall. The only people in the building, it
seemed.

"You know what we're doing here," he grinned back at her. "They'll never put
Reece away without our testimony."

"The Carver girl's evidence might be enough," Scully ventured. "She is an eye
witness."

Her head was still spinning, and her stomach still hadn't settled. She felt
dirty. Felt she looked and smelt dirty, even though she'd scrubbed until her
skin was almost raw. Mulder had commented on the scent, making it obvious
that he thought she'd overdone it.

"Nah." Mulder shook his head. "They'll bring up her past association. It'll-"

"Agent Scully?"

They both looked up to see a young man, smart and proud in his FedEx uniform.
He held out a stiff cardboard package to Scully.

Suspiciously, she took it. It was addressed to: Special Agent Dana Scully c/o
The Court House. She raised an eyebrow.

"Sign here please." The boy handed her a clipboard and a pen.

"Who is this from?" she asked, taking both items from him, "I see no sender
details here."

"Sorry, Agent Scully." The boy seemed genuinely apologetic. "All the
information I have is what's written there on the despatch note."

With a brief glance at Mulder she signed for the package, and tipped the boy.

After awhile, Mulder looked at her, then at the package. "You gonna open
that, Scully?"

"Uh, excuse me," she got up. "I just need to visit the wash room."

"You OK? You look pale."

She forced a weak smile, and rubbed her stomach with the same hand that was
holding the package. "Just a little upset stomach, that's all. I'll be right
back."

It didn't escape his attention that she had taken the anonymous package with
her.

* * *

When she was safely behind the door, she pressed her back against it to stop
anyone entering, and allowed herself to breathe again. She took a long, and
very slow, breath - forced herself to calm down. Adrenaline was rushing
through her, pumping up her heart rate and making her dizzy from the tension.

Carefully, she peeled back the flap, and took out a handful of portrait-
sized colour photographs.

They were exquisitely well done. Perfect focus. Good depth of field.
Excellent colour balance, and natural skin tone. Her skin tone. Dana Scully.
On her hands and knees, naked and sandwiched between two equally naked men,
neither of whom she'd ever seen before. Her lips were closed enthusiastically
around a third swollen cock, that of well endowed black man. She was clearly
very aroused, and very ... active. In the background, at least three other
men were stood around watching. Waiting their turn. Their penises erect and
grasped between their hands.

She studied the picture with something close to total horror. As she looked
through the rest, the horror began to fade. They had a common theme running
through them. Each of them showed her being fucked by three or four men at
the same time, her cunt and arse always penetrated, and her mouth sometimes
playing host to two cocks at the same time. And always different men, so far
as she could tell. It was like something out of a porno movie.

Dana Scully's Gang Bang Orgy

See the little FBI slut take on all comers.
Every hole filled, over and over again, with thick hard cock.
See this gorgeous little redhead take it all, as she tackles some serious
hard action.

$29.95 (Please state PAL or NTSC when ordering)

At least it looks as if I was having fun ... And I don't have fun often
enough.

Before she could do anything about the sudden dampness that had soaked her
panties, the door crashed open against her back, and she was thrown across
the room. She landed face down on the tiled floor, cursing herself at once
for not going to the security of a cubicle.

Scully reached for her Sig, but powerful hands grabbed her by the tops of
her arms, pulled her up, and slammed her face against the wall. The man
reached inside her jacket and relieved her of the gun, before he pinned her
hands behind her back and slapped her own cuffs on her wrists.

She tried to turn around to see his face, but he was pushing her forwards,
frog marching her to the nearest cubicle. He pushed her inside, still keeping
her face away from him, and slid the catch on the door. She felt his hands
beneath her jacket, gripping the waistband of her pants, pulling them down.

"No, wait -"

"Got a message for you," the man rasped into her ear. In a few seconds, he
had her pants down around her knees, and was pulling at her underwear. "But,
first, I missed out on my shot at your ass last night. So, if it's all the
same to you, I'm gonna take it now. After all, Dana, you did promise to take
us all on ... in every hole! And you do seem like a lady who'd keep her
promises."

"Wait," she brought her breathing under control, forced her heart to steady,
and softened her voice. "Not here, OK. We can go somewhere. But not here."

He hesitated. "What, a room somewhere?"

"Yes," she said. "A room ... and then you can have what you missed out on."

"You wouldn't be trying to play me along would you?"

She heard his zipper being pulled down. It was now or never.

Pushing with her knees against either side of the cistern, she launched
herself backwards, slamming him hard against the door. The catch must have
jammed in his back, or something, because he cried out in pain. Good! Scully
whipped her head back, smashing it into the man's nose, and sending his skull
crashing hard against the door.

He started to collapse behind her.

"Of course I wouldn't be playing you along," she muttered, as she began
struggling to get the handcuff keys out of her jacket pocket. "You got
exactly what you missed out on."

By the time she'd managed to get herself out of the cuffs, and adjusted her
clothing, the man was a groaning heap on the floor. She wasted no time in
cuffing his wrists around the toilet, and resting his head over the edge of
the bowl. Satisfied that he was incapacitated, and conscious of the fact that
Mulder would probably come looking for her soon, she quickly searched his
pockets for some form of ID.

In his wallet she found a California Driver's License in the name of Jake
Kline, two VISA cards (one expired), $250 in fifties, and a club membership
card. Scully took the card out and studied it carefully: Fabiens, 41035
Avaline Boulevard. On the back, it simply read, 'No limits'. Her memory
flickered back at her, like a television picture broken up by interference.
The night club, and the man with the European accent.

"What was the message?" she asked.

"Fuck off!"

"No," said Scully, taking her Sig from inside his belt and flicking it off
safety, "I don't think that was it." She pressed the barrel of the gun
between his legs, ramming it hard into his exposed testicles.

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing?"

"I'm a little nervous right now," she explained. "You never know, I might
just slip, and blow your balls ... clean off!" Somehow she managed to get a
touch of the Clint Eastwood into the last two words.

"Alright. Fuck!" His face was whiter than the moon, and sweat was running
down his neck. His legs trembled nervously as she pressed a little harder.
"Fuck!"

"That it?" Scully asked. "That the message? My hand is getting awfully
shaky - seeing as I'm holding it so close to such a big man!"

"Fuck! Alright. The message I was told to give you. Mr. Drake has the tapes
and the photos. He's willing to deal."

"And who is Mr. Drake?"

"I dunno."

She jabbed the gun harder into his balls. He screamed out, "Fuck! I dunno,
lady. Honest I don't. I just work for him."

"Is that it? That the message?"

"He'll be in touch. You're not to go out this evening. He'll contact you to
discuss terms."

"That all now?" She waggled the Sig several times, drilling its barrel deeper
into the tenderness of his scrotum.

"Yeah! I swear!"

"One more thing," she leant closer to his ear, and breathed on it
seductively, "I'll decide who fucks me in the arse - and when. You got
that?"

"Yeah! Sure, I -"

She grabbed a handful of his long hair, snatched his head back, then smashed
it down on the rim of the toilet bowl, instantly rendering him unconscious.

Hearing footsteps, Scully slipped the card into her pocket, removed the cuffs
from Kline, and left him in the cubicle with the door slightly ajar. About
halfway to the door an evil grin came over her face, and she turned back.
Working quickly, she pulled his legs half out of the cubicle, then rolled his
trousers and pants down around his ankles.

She picked up the toilet brush, and stuck it right where it would hurt. A
lot. When he woke up.

"Perhaps you should clean up your act," she said, on the way out.

* * *

: Fabiens
: 41035 Avaline Boulevard

It all seemed so obvious that Scully was certain that the whole thing was a
setup, and the membership card a deliberate plant. Given all of that, she
really should have told Mulder where she was going. To rush off just as soon
as her evidence had been given wasn't exactly fair (not that he hadn't done
the same thing to her time and again). The crazy thing was that she knew she
could have trusted him to be discrete, yet somehow, she just didn't want him
to know about what she had done.

She knew that she wouldn't be able to face him afterwards, and that annoyed
the hell out of her. If she had chosen to satisfy some of her more extreme
sexual urges, then she should certainly not have to justify her actions. What
she did with her body, in her time, was her business. And hers alone.

The man looked up from behind his ornate desk and scowled with obvious
annoyance. A slim man in his early forties. Clean shaven. Close-cropped curly
black hair, slightly greying at the temples. Expensive suit.

"Special Agent Dana Scully, sir," she said, drawing her weapon as she crossed
his office. "FBI."

"Oh, yes?" he said, disinterestedly.

"I believe that you have some property of mine."

"Do you now?" Drake's feigned looked of surprised innocence quickly changed
back to irritation. "How did you find me? ... ah, yes, that cretin Kline. Of
course." Eventually his surprise turned to laughter. "Miss Scully, you cannot
seriously believe that you can just walk in here, and expect me to calmly
hand everything over to you." He got up, and walked out from behind the desk,
crossing to the ornate bar along the far wall.

"I told somebody recently what I'd do to them, if they didn't stop laughing
at me," said Scully, weighing the automatic in her right hand.

"Really, Dana." Drake had begun to pour himself a whiskey. "I can call you
Dana? Vodka and lime isn't it?"

"Photographs and tape would be better," she replied. "All the negatives, the
master video and all copies."

"Be reasonable, Dana." He finished pouring her drink, added a slice of lemon
and some ice, and started to walk towards her with it. "I have gone to a
great deal of trouble to organise this."

"Why such an elaborate scheme?" she asked, her mind racing ahead, trying to
pull together the fragments of the plot that was being constructed around
her.

"Oh, not so elaborate, really." He held the glass out to her. "Tell me, Miss
Scully, were you surprised to find that you'd done those things?"

She waved the drink away with her gun. He shrugged, and put it down, raising
his own glass to take a sip of the whiskey. "Were you not shocked to discover
that the cool and professional Miss Scully is really a wanton little slut?"

The words stung her, just as if he had slapped her across the face. Her
finger tightened on the trigger. His eyes went to the gun for a brief
fraction of a second, then resumed staring right at her.

"What would your partner say, Dana? Oh, we both know his tastes, of course.
Do you think he'd get a hard on, Dana? Seeing his lovely little partner
getting fucked over and over by a dozen complete strangers." He took another
sip of his drink. "And loving every minute of it, I might add."

"Did you drug me?" Scully asked, a lump forming in her throat.

"Drugs? Good Lord, no, Miss Scully." He seemed amused by her question. "Why
would we need to use drugs? We already have all the control we need." He
withdrew a small piece of electronics from his pocket. It was an instrument
about the same size and shape as a cellphone. In fact, Scully thought it was
a phone at first - until he pressed his thumb into a button on its keypad.

Almost immediately, her senses began swimming around her. Her control
crumbled like one of those old tower blocks, blasted from the bottom up
with shaped charges. She felt giddy and nauseous, tumbling into a confused
whirlpool of sights and sounds.

He took the gun from her. "So fortunate for us that you should have a
functioning subcutaneous consponder unit."

"C-consponder ???" She found herself falling weakly into his arms, unable to
keep her balance.

He touched his fingers to the base of her neck, and massaged the soft scar
there. "Remarkable piece of technology. Truly remarkable. I'm told that it
has the equivalent of a thousand billion transistors - all packed onto a
square of silicon just a few millimetres across. Isn't science wonderful,
Miss Scully?"

The chip!

Holding Scully with her wrists behind her back, he cleared a space on his
desk, then laid her over the edge, face down. Limp as a rag doll, Scully
could do nothing - didn't want to do anything - while he pulled off her
jacket, and pushed her pants and underwear down her legs and past her
ankles. Kicking the clothing aside, he spread her legs, and pushed her
blouse up so that her bare ass was completely unobstructed.

Drake unbuckled his own pants and pulled out his swollen cock.

Scully felt his hands grip her ass cheeks, his fingernails digging into her
soft flesh, as he squeezed and mauled them sadistically. She knew that she
should have been feeling fear and revulsion, should have been doing
everything in her power to fight off his assault. Instead, she was shocked
and intrigued by the way that her body reacted to his touch.

Is this me, or a sliver of silicon?

Her cunt was wet and hot, her clit throbbing with arousal, and her nipples
hard and responsive. She wanted him to take her. Wanted it like it was the
only thing that would keep her alive.

Drake pressed his cock along the crack of her ass, reaching forward to fumble
with her blouse. She found herself helping him, frantically undoing buttons
and slipping the soft blue silk off her shoulders. His hands were working on
the clasp of her bra. She helped him there too, reaching behind her back and
unfastening it. He whipped it out from beneath her, tossing it carelessly
aside.

Naked, but for her shoes, Scully spread her arms out either side of her, and
gripped the edges of the desk. She raised her butt slightly, to give the man
better access to her.

When his swollen glans finally pressed against her sphincter, she gasped with
anticipation. Gripping her by the waist, he pushed slowly into her, his thick
penis gradually invading her tight rear passage until, finally, she felt his
balls slap up against her cheeks, and the smooth fabric of his trousers
against the backs of her thighs.

He reamed her with long deep strokes, varying his angle of attack with each
thrust, jamming her face and breasts hard against the cold polished wood of
the desktop, as he took her. She groaned and cried and moaned, but never once
did she say 'no'. She couldn't. She didn't want to.

She knew that he would come soon, leaving her totally unsatisfied in the
aftermath of his purely selfish desire to fuck her ass. Her hand strayed to
her clit, and found it, hard and fully engorged. She rubbed it frantically,
hastily urging herself towards a release. Suddenly her ass was damp, and
Drake was shouting his satisfaction as he released inside her several more
times. The sensation of his warm sticky semen dripping between her buttocks,
combined with her own urgent and frantic masturbation, finally pushed her
past the limit. Her body tensed, and she uttered a single cry, as the first
spasm rode her senses to a hurried climax.

"As a rule, I don't normally sample the merchandise," said Drake, gasping
for breath. "But, when I do, I try to make a thorough job of it. Turn over,
please."

She did as she was told. Not for fear of being punished, or because he
commanded it, but because she wanted to feel his hands on her breasts, his
tongue on her clit, his taste on her lips. His cock inside her. He fascinated
her. Aroused her. So composed, calm, and unemotional. So cold and uncaring.
He excited her, and she wanted him. But, this time, she wanted to be taken
properly. Satisfied properly.

This lust, this uncontrolled sexual hunger, was something primal, something
borne out of the hormonal and chemical imbalances caused by the tiny chip in
the base of her neck. It was simple gratification. However, the question of
whether she consented to her body seeking that gratification was far more
complex.

She looked down to see him pulling off his clothes. He'd dragged one of the
free-standing chairs closer, and was neatly folding each garment, and laying
it over the back.

His slim body was firm and compact. His waist was narrow, without a trace of
flab. Hard muscle was hinted at, beneath the tanned flesh of his legs and
arms. Muscle, again, in the chest and shoulders, not too obvious, but clearly
a fit man who looked after himself.

She was surprised to see that his penis was fully erect once more, its
swollen tip purple and glistening against the tension of his rolled back
foreskin.

Scully was wet. Wet and hot and sticky. She ached to be fucked. Ached all
over. Her body had recovered surprisingly quickly from her self-induced
climax, and now it was ready for more. Much more. Again, her clitoris was
engorged, a shiny hardened bud standing proud between the soft folds of
flesh. Hot and sensitive to even the tiniest current of air.

As he knelt down between her spread thighs, placing one hand on each, she
moaned with delight. "Slowly," she murmured, "take me slowly."

"Don't worry, Dana," Drake said quietly, as he carefully traced his hands
closer to her crotch, gliding them softly over her sweat- moistened skin.
"We've got plenty of time."

His thumbs found her crinkly labia, travelled their length in slow, soft,
strokes, as he stretched them apart, exposing her moist pinkness. He leant
forward, and cupped her clit in the fold of his tongue, drawing back, then
tickling its tip with the lightest of touch.

Scully clenched her fists at her sides, as she began to twist her body
urgently in response to the attention that her cunt and clit were receiving.
Drake's tongue went from her swollen clitoris to the rim of her vagina,
circling it slowly, spiralling in to the soft damp pit at its centre. His
thumbs continued to stretch and pull her lips apart, exposing her completely,
almost painfully, to his attentions.

He pushed his tongue into her, gently but firmly penetrating her. Scully
reached down to grab his head. Her fingers locked into his hair, and she
guided him into her.

"So good ..." she moaned.

After several deep thrusts with his tongue, he withdrew from between her
legs, softly kissed the labia either side of her entrance, then her swollen
clit, before moving his attention higher. Suddenly his hot lips were dancing
across her belly, his tongue lingering briefly in her navel, as he continued
the journey higher. He reached behind her, pulled her towards him so that
his mouth could find each of her breasts in turn. She gasped with pleasure
as every part of his mouth seemed to connect with her nipples, first one,
then the another, as he moved between them, teasing them, stimulating them
to hardness, leaving them firm and glistening with his saliva.

She gripped his buttocks, pulled herself against him, felt his erection
trapped against her thigh.

"Don't keep me waiting any longer for this," she begged, "fuck me now.
Please ..."

He kissed her between her breasts, then moved to her neck, her cheeks, her
forehead. Anywhere but the lips, she noticed.

"Not quite yet," he said, ominously, "I haven't finished sampling the
merchandise yet."

Gently, he pushed her down on her back again, and climbed onto the desk,
straddling her chest with his knees. He gripped the base of his penis with
his right hand and leant towards her. With his left hand he took hold of
her head, and pulled her closer until his swollen glans rested on her lips.

She tasted salt, and a spicy tang. Unusual, but not unpleasant. He pressed
himself into her mouth, and she parted her lips willingly, allowing his
penis to fill her until its tip touched her tonsils.

He took his right hand away and linked it with his left, cradling the back
of her head, supporting her as he began to ream her mouth with his cock.
Scully began to choke and gag, realising that he literally intended to fuck
her mouth. She shook her head frantically, her eyes pleading and wide with
shock. Seeing her discomfort, he pulled back.

Together they found a more comfortable position, this time with Drake lying
on his back, while Scully crouched over his waist and bent down to take him
in her mouth again.

She cupped his balls in her hands, gently squeezing them, while her thumbs
applied pressure to the root of his cock. Her lips closed over the head of
his penis, parted around its increasing diameter as she pressed down over
it, and trapped the bulbous tip in her mouth. She sucked gently, circling
her tongue over the exposed glans, running it into the tiny slit there,
tasting bitter salt and sex.

Drake grunted his satisfaction, as she pressed on, driving her mouth down
the length of him, taking him into her until she had no more room for him.
Slowly, deliberately, she made long strokes up and down his shaft, her teeth
pecking at his flesh, her fingers still working his balls.

"God almighty," he groaned. "If you want a mouthful of cum, you're going the
right way about it ..."

She slid her mouth off him, moving instead to lick his shaft all along its
length like a piece of confectionery. Her cunt was streaming, smearing her
sticky secretions over his chest and belly as she writhed excitedly on top
of him.

Feeling the faint tremors building within his cock, she knew that it was
time for both of them, and she changed her position, moving to squat over
the stiff pole of his erect cock, guiding it in with one hand as she
lowered herself onto it.

Once he was fully inside her, she leant forwards and gripped his shoulders
with her hands. He, in turn, gripped her buttocks. They steadied one another
as Scully rode him, ever more frantically, ever more violently. Leading him.
Taking him where she wanted him to go. He pushed his hips up into her,
matching her rhythm, grinding his organ deeper and deeper into her. Their
screams and groans became one long cacophony of mutual elation, as she
dragged them both to a shattering orgasm. The explosion of sexual energy,
when it finally came, was devastating. Their bodies crashed together one
last time, as they were consumed in the blistering fireflash of their joint
climax. She felt him spasm inside her time and again, as her own body was
torn by the tumultuous tremors of her satisfaction.

Eventually, she crawled off him, and rolled onto her back, almost falling
off the side of the desk as she did so. As they recovered together, each
regaining their strength and a little of their dignity, Scully pondered her
bizarre behaviour. She didn't feel drugged, or hypnotised, or under some
form of psychological control. She didn't feel out of control, or coerced.
Yet, there was something. Some element of wrongness that nagged at her. Not
shame. More a curiosity, a need to understand how she could behave in this
way. It was as if something was allowing her to switch off her control at
will. Like a cut-out, or a personality override.

Of even more concern to her was the fact that she was getting to like it.

Drake was off the desk, and pulling on his clothes again. He had regained
most, if not all, of his composure. "Well, thank you, Miss Scully," he said,
politely, "that was a very enjoyable fuck. May I say that you really are an
extremely good lay, and I shall look forward to having you again sometime
soon."

She suddenly glared at him with disgust. A total reversal of her feelings
just short minutes before. Had the switch tripped back again?

He picked up her jacket, and draped it over her shoulders. "Care to watch a
video with me, Miss Scully? Care to see what will get sent to your bosses
over at the Federal Bureau of Investigation? - Oh, and to your friend Mulder
as well. I know he would appreciate it."

"It's true then." She reached behind her head, and felt the small scar at
the base of her neck. "You can manipulate my actions. Force me to do these
things whenever you want."

"Manipulate is not quite accurate." He shook his head. "It's more a case of
'enabling' you to act on your suppressed desires."

"Almost as effective as ten vodka and limes," said Scully. She rubbed her
forehead tiredly. "And a hangover to match."

"What can I say, Miss Scully?" He leant back in his comfortable swivel chair.
"If you hadn't wanted to act like a complete slut - deep down that is - then
you wouldn't have found yourself in this mess."

Mess is the word, thought Scully. What a dreadful, dreadful, mess.

"Now then, do settle down, and watch a video with me. I've seen it once, and
it really is most stimulating." He waved a remote control at the large home
entertainment centre in the far corner of his office. "Perhaps you'd like
that drink now?"

Reluctantly, Scully sat down in the other chair. Her head was pounding again,
and she felt a familiar nausea in the pit of her stomach. She pulled her
jacket close around her shoulders.

The screen snapped into life. Scully recognised, at once, the redhead who
was slowly disrobing for the camera. That was her. No doubt about it. No way
she'd be able to convince anyone that they'd hired an actress, or a body
double, or that they'd used state of the art CGI to pull off a convincing
fake. No chance of that. The woman now stepping out of a tiny black mini
dress was very definitely Dana Katherine Scully, FBI Mega-Slut. She groaned
her despair.

As the camera slowly zoomed out, Scully counted the number of men that
surrounded her with mounting disbelief. Eight. Nine. Ten. Twelve! Twelve
extremely horny guys, all with very impressive erections. Thirteen, if
you counted that creep Kline, who was hovering around in the background,
fiddling with the video camera.

Oh, no, she thought, this is even worse than having total amnesia - now I'm
actually starting to remember!

There was something else that she remembered too. The whole scene was
almost a perfect replica of a recent bath time fantasy. One that had had
her writhing excitedly amidst the suds, screaming obscenities to the deaf
tiled walls, as her fingers burrowed into her cunt and her body shook,
again and again, with animal satisfaction.

Recalling what Drake had said, about the consponder being capable of enabling
her to act on suppressed desires, she realised that it was all true. She had
imagined that scene. She had pictured herself being fucked repeatedly by a
parade of extremely well-endowed studs, her body surrendering its control
time and again to orgasms of ever increasing magnitude. More than that, she'd
fed the dream, nurtured it, urged it on. Instead of dismissing it, she'd
allowed herself the fantasy, let herself enjoy the part.

Afterwards, she had lain immersed in the bath, eyes closed, breathing softly
and slowly until the water went cold. Christ, that had been one hell of a
Sunday afternoon.

And this was looking to be one hell of a video. Despite the absurdity of the
situation, and the threat to which she was now clearly exposed, Scully found
herself getting extremely turned on. She told herself that it was the chip.
The consponder. But it was really the thought of her shamelessly bringing her
bath time fantasy to life, that moistened her cunt, and swelled her clit. Her
hand slipped behind her thighs, almost as a reflex action.

Drake looked on, smiling contentedly.

* * *

No sooner had Scully stepped out of her panties, than Kline dipped below the
camera, retrieved them, and put them on the chair with her dress and bag. She
kept telling herself that the camera was bad news, but there were other
things demanding her attention. For one thing she was streaming moisture down
the insides of her thighs, and her swollen clitoris jutted out between her
folds. A glistening bean craving attention.

She allowed hands to guide her to the bed. Cotton. Black cotton.

How cheap!

Cheap, like the slut she was about to become. One of them had lain down on
the bed, his shoulders propped up against the pillows, his legs together, and
both hands gripping the base of his ample erection. Another was behind her,
manoeuvring her onto the bed, while his penis pressed against the small of
her back.

Scully went down on her knees, steadied herself on the shoulders of the man
below her, and slid her sopping wet cunt over his cock. She moaned softly,
as she lowered herself onto him, taking him all the way in. She leaned into
him, kissing him full on the mouth, sliding her tongue between his teeth. His
hands gripped her buttocks, and began to part them, revealing her puckered
asshole. She gasped suddenly, as her hardened nipples were caught in the wiry
mat of his chest hair.

She felt the bed sink a little, as the second man joined them. He squatted
over her buttocks, gripping her shoulders for a moment, then using one hand
to guide his swollen cock towards her anus. She felt something pushing at
the rim of her sphincter, hot flesh and muscle trying to gain entrance. For
a moment she thought her body would deny him, but then a surge of pressure
made her gasp for breath. His glans had penetrated her, parted her tight
muscles, and now the rest of his penis slowly followed.

"Oh, Christ," she moaned, "it's incredible ..."

Another pair of hands gripped her head, as a large black man joined them,
kneeling in front of her, his legs astride the man beneath her. He pulled
her face towards his crotch, his huge cock slapping against her nose.

Hungrily, she opened her mouth and swallowed the end of his penis. His flesh
was hard and slightly salty between her lips. She ran her tongue around the
ridge of his cock head, savouring the taste of his excitement.

By now her cunt and ass were filled completely, and the two men were starting
to set up a rhythm. It took them a while to establish something that worked.
After a few experiments that had Scully groaning her discomfort through
cock-muffled lips, they started alternate strokes, pulling out of her ass
while pushing into her cunt. They pumped her like twin steam engines, pushing
her forwards, so that her throat accepted more and more of the cock in her
mouth.

She became aware of the bizarre sounds that filled the room. The grunting and
groaning of three men, her own muffled cries of slutty pleasure, the sound of
wet cunt lips slopping around tight muscle. The moisture sluicing from her
cunt was unbelievable, and her clit felt like it was about to explode from
the mounting tension.

As the cock in her mouth started to jerk and spasm, its owner gripped both
sides of her head and held her on him, while he sprayed her tonsils with his
hot sperm. She coughed and gagged on the deluge of cum. It erupted from
around her lips, and trickled down her chin to drip on the chest of the man
beneath her. Finally, he allowed her to pull back, jetting one last spurt of
cum across her face before he was spent.

Before she had a chance to recover, another man was taking his place,
presenting his swollen penis up for attention. She felt the guy beneath her
come suddenly, his body shaking with frantic grunts of satisfaction as he
ejaculated inside her. He pulled out of her, supported her weight with his
hands, as another man slid beneath her.

The penis was pressed into her mouth. She took it in. A new cock easily
entered her sticky cunt, resumed the motion that the previous occupant had
established. Teeth nipped the flesh in the hollow of her shoulder, and
fingernails clawed her stomach, as an eruption of sperm flooded her anus.
He continued to pump her until his penis started to soften.

The cock in her mouth was reaming her throat, the tip slapping against her
tonsils. Another climbed into position above her. At any moment she expected
her asshole to be filled again, but she was surprised and shocked to feel
additional pressure at the edge of her vagina. The two men, above and below
her, were pushing both of their cocks into her cunt together! She cried out
in protest, as their hard rods jammed past the resistance of her entrance
and burrowed into her softness.

Scully came there and then, pushed past her limits just by the thought of
what they were doing to her. Her body shook violently between them, her cries
muffled and deadened by the hot flesh that filled her mouth.

They continued to pummel her naked body, their cocks jointly reaming and
stretching her vagina in a relentless frenzy of excitement. She sucked on
the third cock, explored its length with her tongue, felt the muscle tense
and jerk, and tasted semen in her mouth again. He withdrew. This time two
men took his place, clambering into place and positioning themselves, arms
over each other's shoulders, so that both their cocks were within reach of
her mouth. Her lips closed awkwardly over their tips, about the most she
could get inside her, considering the limitations of body geometry. She
sucked them both.

Someone came in her cunt again. Her clit was throbbing once more, her nipples
hard and sore. Sweat dripped from her, and her vagina lubricated furiously in
response to the sustained stimulus. Two more men were soon in position, their
cocks sliding into her slackened cunt and ass ...

... Scully reached across and took the remote control from him. She jabbed
the STOP button.

"I want that tape," she said, seriously, as the screen went dark.

"Of course you do," Drake replied. "And, of course, I'm not going to give it
to you. Unless, that is, you agree to our terms."

"Which are what exactly?"

"All that we will require you to do, in order for the tape and the, ah,
supplementary photographic material, to remain private, is for you to assist
us from time to time."

"Assist you? What do you mean?"

"Agent Mulder is becoming a very tiresome distraction to some of our
activities." He brushed some fluff off one of his shirt sleeves. "If you were
able to ... redirect him away from certain areas."

"I won't do that." She shook her head.

"Think about what we are capable of doing, Miss Scully. Thing about the
consponder. There might be many other discomforts that you would find
yourself facing were you to choose not to co-operate."

"You might as well send the tape now, and get it over with." Her shoulders
went limp. "I won't help you, Drake."

"Oh, I think that you will."

* * *

Dana Scully sat quietly in her apartment. The lights were dimmed. Some music
was playing, too quietly to be heard properly, something by Mozart. On the
coffee table in front of her, were two VHS video tapes. One of them was a
film of Dana Scully getting well and truly gang-banged by twelve very
well-endowed Rent-a-Studs. The other was a faked record of a UFO sighting
in Alabama, which Drake had instructed that she get to Mulder as soon as
possible.

She picked up both tape cassettes, and weighed them thoughtfully in her
hands.

It was a long time before she finally picked up her cellphone, and pushed
the most-used speed dial button. After a few seconds he answered. She took a
deep breath. Compared the two tapes again. Put one of them on the table in
front of her, the other in her bag.

"Mulder, it's me."

"Hey, Scully, how's it going?"

"I'm fine. Are you at home?"

"Yeah, just -"

"Good, I'm coming round."

"Say, what's the emergency, you need some quick hot sex or something?"

"... I have a tape that you must see."

The End

    

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