----- No Name by Steven M. Wagner -----

Title - No Name
Author - Steven M. Wagner
E-Mail address - wagnersm@mindspring.com
Rating - R - Disturbing Concepts
Category - SA Keywords - Alternate Universe
Spoiler - None
Summary - Mulder tries to rescue Scully from a fate worse than death
Finished - 24 August 1997
Disclaimer - This is a fiction story based on the characters created
     by Chris Carter. No infringement of copyrights held by 10/13
     Productions, Twentieth Century Productions, or Fox Broadcasting
     is intended. All unrecognized characters and plot- lines belong
     to me. Names, characters, and places exist solely within my
     imagination, or are used fictitiously. No connection to any
     person, living or dead, is intended, and any resemblance is
     entirely coincidental. Feel free to distribute, but please keep
     me as the author.
----------------------------------------------------------------
  
  No Name by Steve Wagner
  
  "The defendant will now stand," the judge ordered. Mulder watched
his partner rise beside her lawyer. The trial had been a sham. The two
had came too close to some information the Consortium had not wanted
out. And to stop them they framed Scully with a murder. And now, the
sentencing was to occur.
  
  "Death by slavery," the judge read off. Mulder was up standing in a
flash. Scully wavered for a second and turned to her mother for
comfort. Everybody knew what 'Death by slavery' meant. Since it was an
old legal adage that your body was the state's after execution, the
state now defined that it stripping a person of their name and
declaring them 'dead' was the same as killing them, and if you were
young, pretty, and female, you could be sold at a nice profit.
  
  "Mulder, take care of Mom," Scully whispered, as she pressed
something into Mulder's hand. Then straightened up and let the
bailiffs cuff her and lead her off. Mulder looked down into his hand,
it was her cross.
  
  -*-*-*-
  
  Six months later.
  
  Mulder stood in the back of the auditorium. It was warm, humid, with
a large crowd. It made Mulder think of some sporting event rather than
a auction. The advertisement in the morning paper said that there was
a good group of pretty females to be sold today. And today, 'a petite
redhead with prior medical training, very trainable,' was due to be
sold to the highest bidder. Dana Scully, in other words.
  
  The past several months had been hell on Mulder. Mrs. Scully had
done well enough, moving in with one of her sons 'to help out', or so
she said. Mulder wasn't so sure. She had lost both of her daughters,
she was a widow. As the months passed, she returned fewer and fewer of
his phone calls.
  
  The Consortium had kept the pressure up on Mulder, sending him a
video tape of the 'execution'. The prison warden read the death order.
Then a couple of the guards had grabbed her and stripped the clothes
she had worn to sentencing from her. Then she was pushed up against a
post, tied to it, collared then branded on the hip. He saw her scream.
He still saw the scene, heard the echoes of her scream in his
nightmares.
  
  Everybody knew where the 'exotics' were being trained, Alcatraz
Prison. Mulder and Frohike had wanted to try for a rescue mission, but
Byers had reminded them of the low chance of success. Mulder had
suggested an execution, at least end the horror for her. No, they
suggested, we don't want to mourn two friends. So time had been spent
getting together enough to ensure that they could buy her and rescue
her.
  
  And now it was time, "Lot number 42, one redhead female with prior
medical training." Scully was pushed forward into the bright lights on
the stage, eyes wide and scared, then quickly dropping so she didn't
look a future master in the eye. She was a faun caught in a car's
headlights on a dark night. So terrified that she froze, but still
wanting to run to safety. The auctioneer pushed her head up, the
handle of his whip to her chin, the better the buyers to see her face.
  
  Mulder could hardly believe what he saw. They had taken time to make
sure that she would bring in the most money. Hair and makeup was done.
She was attractively dressed wearing a loose short sleeved blouse and
a wrap skirt, one hip open enough to show the slave brand. But her
arms were tied behind her back and her neck had a narrow gold band
around it, a collar, not a necklace.
  
  The auctioneer started the bidding, "Ten thousand Dollars." Mulder
watched the crowd and the stage. There was some interest in the
redhead, but not enough that a bidding war was going on. He hoped that
it did not go to that, the Lone Gunman, Skinner, and him had pooled
their resources to pull this off, but their funds were limited. And
Scully, she stood up there, he could see the fear in her body, the way
she slightly quivered. Her fears were obvious, who would she would be
pleasuring that night. A person who could beat her if she wasn't good
enough.
  
  At one point the bidding faltered for a moment, then the auctioneer
walked behind Scully. "How can you not bid on something like this,"
and pushed her blouse off her shoulders and down to her waist, baring
her breasts for all to see. Mulder could see the color rise on her
face as her bosom rose and fell as she panted her terror. Mulder stood
there frozen, his eyes on her breasts. And then the bidding slowed
again, and her skirt was removed. Her color rose again, as did his. It
was a pleasure seeing her petite body on display, a guilty pleasure.
She was his friend, his partner, not some bimbo to be ogled. But he
couldn't help looking at how her breasts gently quivered as she turned
from side to side at the auctioneer's bidding. Watching for the
glippses of the patch of hair hiding her sex. He was ashamed of
himself for watching.
  
  Not soon enough, the bidding soon stopped. "Going once, going twice,
sold to the man with the fedora." Mulder sighed in relief. The 'man
with the fedora' was the agent Mulder had sent in to buy Scully. He
looked back to the stage for a second as she was lead back through the
curtains, her eyes searching for the man that now owned her.
  
  -*-*-*-
  
  "Thank you, master." Mulder heard Scully's voice through a half open
door, a voice that once strong and commanding, now weak with fear.
  
  "Go through that door to your right," the agent told the scared
slave. Mulder heard the faint footsteps of bare feet stop as the door
pushed open and Scully walked through the door.
  
  "What," was her cry, as she looked at the man who had been her
partner, her hands stopping the chafing of the wrists where the
handcuffs had been tight on her skin. "Mulder," she said.
  
  Mulder took a second to look Scully over. She looked healthy. And
sexy. The makeup played up her eyes and cheekbones, lips painted a
bright read. Her hair was styled up, long dangling earrings calling
attention to her long neck and the collar around it. Her clothing was
straightened. Mulder could see close up that it was clothing designed
to bolster her sexuality. The clothing was of a gauzy fabric that did
not hide much of what was behind it. She also looked very scared.
  
  "Yes, Scully."
  
  "Oh God," she wailed, on hand coming up to face, half covering the
mouth. "Why does it have to be you?"
  
  Mulder was taken aback, this is not the response he had expected. He
had expected to be welcomed as a savior, not as if he was the last
person she wanted to see. "What is wrong, Scully?"
  
  "I don't wish for you to see me in this situation. I am no longer
the woman who was your partner. I am now a trained slave here to do
the bidding of the master. And please don't call me that name anymore.
Dana Katherine Scully is dead." Her eyes fell down to the floor. "If
it pleases the master, the slave grew used to be called 'Red' while in
training."
  
  Mulder started, this was not the woman he had worked with. "Ok, Red.
And please call me Mulder," he replied. He would call her what she
wanted. It was a easy kindness while determining the next step.
  
  He was rewarded with one of her brilliant smiles. But it was briefly
on her face before it saddened. "Mast.. , Mulder, seeing you, reminds
me of what life was before enslavement, before training. And it
horrifies having you see me this way. Before I was a FBI agent, a
Medical Doctor. Now, I am nothing but a trained sex slave."
  
  "What did they do to you," a soft question.
  
  "It was six months of brainwashing."
  
  "What...?"
  
  "You know what brainwashing is. From the time they got me to
Alcatraz and they branded me, to the auction, they did every thing
they could to make sure that I knew where I was, and what I was going
to be. Several of the girls were selected each night to entertain the
guards. We were taught how to please a man sexually. We were taught
how to be good little playthings."
  
  Mulder reached out to touch her, to comfort her. Her face brightened
at the touch, her tongue coming out to lick her lips in anticipation.
But the joy faded when she realized that she was not going to be used.
"This shows it," a bit of bitterness in her voice. "Slaves are taught
how to please the masters, and to get their fulfillment from that. And
now, I don't have that."
  
  "Scul," only the first syllable came out.
  
  "You don't get it, do you Mulder," a sharpness replaced the timidy
in the voice, a bit of the Dana Scully he knew coming through the
training. "I am not your partner. She is gone. The body is the same,
but the mind is different. I have been trained to welcome a man's
advances. To pleasure him with my body any and every way I can. That's
all I am. That's all I can every be." Her eyes widened in terror. She
had just berated a master. She had seen girls tortured to death for
doing just that in training. "Oh, Master, please be gentle to your
slave," she begged, dropping to the floor and grasping his knees in
supplication.
  
  Mulder reached down and gently took the woman's hands in his own.
then knelt down in front of her. He saw the terror still in her eyes,
the marks her tears had made in her makeup. "I'm not going to hurt
you, Red. You are safe with me. Let's sit down." He rose, gently
pulling her to her feet, before leading her to a couple of chairs. "I
just want to help you, to keep you safe. I'm not going to punish you
for anything."
  
  Red looked at her ex-partner, gratitude in her eyes. "The slave is
sorry for berating the master. But there has just been 6 months of
rigorous brainwashing and training." She went on to describe the
training center. It was not a bad place in and of itself. They were
well fed, exercised, their health was maintained. But it was what else
that happened to them that was so terrifying. The girls were
systematicily raped the first week they were there, 'it was to get
them used to being sextoys.' They were not allowed much in the way of
clothes, clothing became an prop in the pleasing of a man. They were
taught oral sex, anal sex, how to please a man while he is inside of
the girl. How to set off their own orgasm on demand. How to please a
woman if they were bought by a woman, or the master had two slaves and
wanted a show. And taught other ways to be entertaining, some sang,
Scully was taught belly dancing, "They couldn't teach fucking all the
time."
  
  And they were tortured as well. The first week, each of them were
tied to the post where they were branded and beaten with a whip. They
were not injured, but it was to show them what punishment would be
like. One of the girls tried to escape, they hung her. But it was not
a long drop, her neck was not broken. They left her hands untied, and
there was enough rope for her to hang onto it. She held on for three
days. Her eyes went up to her master's, "We could see her those three
days. They hung her at the edge of our exercise area. Each of us knew
that it could be any of us dangling on that rope, feeling the manila
bite into our throats. She hung on as best she could, but she
weakened. A couple of the girls went to her. The guards would not let
us release her, nor pass her food and water. I knew what the next day
would be like, as she weakened further, she would be able to hold on
less and less until she choked. I knew what was needed to do. I called
out to her, asked if she wanted us to end the pain. Her eyes met mine.
She knew what I was offered, the final relief, a coup de grace. She
nodded. Me and a couple of the other girls jumped up and held onto her
legs. She stopped struggling after a few minutes."
  
  But there was one final horror. "About halfway through the six
months, several of the girls came back from a lecture complaining of
feeling dizzy. The next morning, they didn't know they were. Within a
week, they mindwiped everybody except me. I didn't say anything to
anybody, I was hoping that they had overlooked me. But I found out
that I was wrong. I was taken to a room with a bed and chair. Slaves
were not allowed to sit on chairs so I sat on the edge of the bed. The
cigarette smoking one, came to the room. He explained that they were
being cruel. If they had wiped my mind as well, I would not remember
my prior life. it wouldn't haunt me every time a master used me. And
even if you found me, I would not be able to help you in your quest
anymore. Then he told me to please him." Her eyes dropped to her lap.
"I did everything I could to please him. I couldn't help myself. When
he was done, he told me that I was very good, and I felt pleasure. He
told me that he wished that he could keep me for himself, but that
would be too dangerous. That one final wish was for me to be bought by
some old rich man who wanted something to warm his bed as well as a
nurse. He then left me. I was sold 2 days latter."
  
  Mulder sat there for a moment stunned. Before now, he had not been
able to find out much about the slave training, except for a few vague
terrifying rumors. Rumors less horrible then the facts. "I don't know
what to do," he whispered, stunned.
  
  "Neither does your slave," she softly answered.
  
  -----------------------------------
  Steve Wagner - The Unnumbered naXis
  wagnersm@mindspring.com
  Cary, North Carolina, USA
  
  "WHY NOT seize the pleasure at once, How often is happiness
destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!"
  Jane Austin, (1775-1817) English novelist