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Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 01

By: Kurokami



Author's Note: Hello again, all you people! I'm doing Panic Moon, now! Obviously, this is a sequel to Amy, Captured; to get the full experience, please read through that one first, before moving on. I don't intend to spend a lot of time explaining things; if you come in this late, you get to be a bit behind. That said, this is just the introductory chapter so...

A quick note on continuity: I had originally intended to set this series somewhere in the middle of season six of Doctor Who, hence Sander's allusion to the Silence at the end of the previous series. Obviously, recent events- I'm thinking of the last few episodes that went to air- have forced me to rethink this. Now, it's set between seasons five and six, which is a pity, because I had intended to do some things that are now impossible. Ah well, at least this means that Amy isn't a bloody Ganger... Also, my fiancé kept making jokes about a certain pregnancy happening just after I'd finished Amy, Captured; I wouldn't argue if anyone else wanted to make that connection.

Many thanks to Isabel, my soon-to-be wife (we're having twins!) and to Allyourbase, a fine writer who's just submitted a new story that I can totally recommend. Anyway, without my pair of editors this thing wouldn't be half as good. Yay for them!

Votes, feedback and comments are highly appreciated, especially since this is a new thing. Tell me what you think, readers! Enjoy!

-Kurokami

******************

'Hello Viral.'

The shadows did not move, and yet the figure in the dark felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. A shiver almost went down his spine, but he had been here before and the abomination that dwelt in the deepest part of the ebony curtain of shadow no longer held the same terrifying aura that it once did. Spotlight eyes slid open languorously, powerfully, and swiveled to regard the tiny being.

'Earth-clan,' The rumbling voice shattered the silence like a pane of glass, echoing through the gloom, through the man. He raised his chin, not in defiance, just as a message; that he was here to bargain, not to be intimidated.

'I take it you already know why I'm here?' He said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

'I never know why you come here,' Viral thundered. 'Truly, your thoughts are a mystery to me, human. So tell me.'

The man smiled in the dark, oddly serene given the situation. The creature seemed to shift on its perch; was it leaning forward in anticipation?

'Some friends and I want to be put in contact with a certain person. Think you can make it happen?'

'Yes. Although I am somewhat surprised to learn that you are working with others now. Your request will not be granted for free, Earth-clan.'

He nodded, 'I know. And we shall pay whatever price you require, Viral. Just so long as you can put me in contact with Sander Hackett,' His smile took on a toothy, predatory quality. 'I'd oh so love to see him again.'

*****************************

Below the surface, it glowed.

Below the surface, steel walls shuddered like the wakening of an ancient monster. Below the surface, endlessly complex mechanisms hummed into motion. Below the surface, orange light burned away the darkness and poured down through the steel, shaping itself into a familiar form.

Below the surface, the Engine awoke.

******************************

She awoke to the sound of waves, and the feeling of sand beneath her. Okay, so she must be on a beach. That's good; that was a good fact to know. Of course, there were plenty of other facts that she didn't know; prime among them was why she was on a beach.

She was lying flat on her back, which was something she quickly corrected, sitting up to survey her surroundings. Yes, she had been right: a beach.

The waves lapped rhythmically at the shore, each undulation shrinking and growing the shoreline by quite a large margin. At its peak, the tide almost came up to her toes, and at the lowest ebb it retreated several feet from her. When it was closest, she could see that something was moving in the water; some cloud of luminous blue particles.

That and the fact that the sky was a light blue, almost shading to purple, indicated that wherever she was, Earth was not it. Where had she been before? They had just left Kasterborous, after watching a whole solar system- uninhabited, of course- being devoured by a black hole. They had been in mid-flight... The Doctor had been in mid sentence, and then... here.

Amy Pond ran a hand through her mass of fiery red hair and sighed; was this all the Doctor's companions did? Wait to be rescued?

This was awfully familiar territory, this waking up in a strange place all of a sudden. A small, leaden weight dropped into the pit of her stomach at the memories that assailed her, at that infinitely bizarre fortnight spent at the mercy of a madman and his bestial assistant. But... No matter how familiar... It couldn't possibly be those two again, surely? Not after how they had parted. Not after the last time.

But...

She had seen madness in Sander's eyes, pure and undiluted by conscience. He'd stared at her, called her name, and her heart had practically stopped. The fury in those eyes; if there was a hell, then it was in those eyes that day. It was in his head. And she feared it, knew deep down... It wasn't done with her yet.

She also knew that a piece of it had come with her. That taint had travelled in her head, back to the TARDIS, to poison everything she did. A tiny fragment of Sander, a little thorn in her mind; the last remnant of his revenge. A success, even in his utter defeat.

These days, everything had changed. Things were stressed, almost to breaking point. She had thought she would be fine, but that wasn't true, was it? It had been months since that time, but she still found it hard to talk about. Found it hard to even look at the Doctor, lest certain memories assault her, prompting a confusing mix of emotions. Found it hard to let Rory so much as touch her.

She still loved him... It's just that lately... there was something wrong with her. When they had sex, nothing he did worked, anymore. She couldn't cum, could barely feel anything. And it was eating at her, even as it forced the two of them ever further apart. For his part, Rory had grown increasingly hesitant to touch her at all, as though she might break if he tried, shatter like glass. But that wasn't it. It couldn't be.

She had cum like crazy for... him. Even though she hadn't wanted to.

The physical scars of her time in captivity, the marks of the whip, had healed in time. Her body was pristine now, as though it had never happened. But Sander and Mara had left scars in her head, too; deeply entrenched cuts that seemed to change the way she thought. Changed what she wanted. Now, she dreamed of violence at night, and awoke with the memories of the pain and cruel, forced pleasure pounding through her entire body like the beat of a drum.

The thought wormed through her head: I am here, and it should be Sander that brought me here.

Such a treacherous thing, the mind. Sometimes wanting what saner parts of it do not want...

She scanned the shoreline, hoping for some landmark or sign of life that could help her ascertain where she was. A huge, rocky cliff face bordered the beach, which stretched on for as far as she could see. No way out that way. But there was a lone figure further down the beach, ambling slowly in her direction and whistling a happy tune. She tried to stand, but found that her legs were weak and wouldn't support her. Okay, she would wait for him, then.

'Oh,' Amy said quietly as he drew closer. He swayed unctuously as he walked, his hands deep in the pockets of his black cargo shorts, his bare feet digging deep into the soft sand with every stride. His blue Hawaiian shirt billowed open in the gentle sea breeze, revealing a tight black undershirt wrapped around his muscular torso. As he drew level with her, he grinned happily out from under a defined five o'clock shadow, a lit cigarette hanging from one corner of his smile.

He blew out a stream of smoke and crooked one finger into his small, round sunglasses, pulling them down to regard her with his dark, sparkling eyes.

'Hi, sweetheart,' Sander Hackett said in a sunny voice. 'How've you been?'

Amy gave a strangled whimper and struggled to move away from him, but her legs seemed to be made out of cotton, and wouldn't obey her properly. She sighed, deep in her throat and refused to look at him as he dropped heavily onto the sand next to her, supporting himself on the palm of one hand.

For a moment, a strange kind of relief flooded her mind. It felt almost like being home, having him there. Wasn't this better than being kidnapped by the enemy she didn't know? Wasn't it better, with the things this man could do to her...

Shit, she thought. What is this? This is Sander Hackett, and I'm making excuses for him? This is Sander Hackett, and I'm acting like this is a happy damned reunion? What is wrong with me?

Why is my head like this?

'What have you done to me?' She quavered, some horrified part of her wanting to know despite the fear currently turning her organs to water.

'Nothing,' Sander shrugged and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It didn't work, 'Your weakness is just a side effect of the process of bringing you here. I could've found a way to fix that, but it seemed like a good idea that you couldn't fight back right away.'

'Why are you doing this again?' Once more, the question tore itself out of her before she had a chance to mentally edit it. She understood immediately that the whys of the situation didn't really matter, because the potential what of it was setting off some ancient monster in her head that knew what Sander wanted from her, and liked it.

'Because I couldn't get you out of my head,' Sander said quietly, in a voice that sounded genuine. 'Neither could Mara. Things have changed. So much. I feel... good, for a change. But you? We couldn't stop thinking about you. We love ya, kiddo!'

'Oh, how sweet!' Amy spat. 'I bet you say that to all the girls you kidnap and rape.'

Around them, the ocean licked at the shore, the mystery light within it casting rippling ribbons of blue onto the sand. Amy's fingers curled through the oddly dense sand, the barest hint of a tremble in them; where was she?

The silence stretched out as Sander attempted to form his next sentence. It had been hard enough just envisioning how this encounter would go beforehand. He had spent the best part of the morning thinking about it, eschewing Mara's company entirely in favor of pacing through his home, trying to press down on his rising nervousness. Eventually he had mastered it, but he still recognized that this wouldn't be easy; for Amy, it had only been three months since she had escaped from him. But for Sander, for Mara, it had been three years of planning, of construction, of... well, if he had to put a name to it... Three of the best years of his life.

'So, what? You're just going to sit there?' Amy growled. 'Not going to tell me where I am? Anything like that?'

'Isn't this place beautiful?' Sander made a large, sweeping gesture towards the horizon. 'You know, I think that was the problem last time? That fucking asteroid...' He shook his head.

Amy nodded. Looking out over the ocean, to a horizon speckled with clouds, right to the edge of the world... It was oddly peaceful. The man beside her, however, was not, and Amy willed her legs to regain their strength as quickly as possible.

'It is beautiful...' She found herself saying softly, glancing incessantly at Sander. 'Where are we?' She asked again.

'It's called Trismestigius,' Sander said conversationally. He gestured to a blue orb glowing softly in the sky, 'It's a moon. See that? Sigma Majora, the planet we're orbiting. It's actually smaller than this place, but it has this... super-dense core, y'know?'

'Wow,' Amy deadpanned. 'That's... awesome,' She stared at him. 'You seem different.'

'I am different. I know it's only been three months for you, but we pulled you out of time. For me, it's been three years,' He inhaled sharply. 'I'm... better, now.'

'And yet you still kidnapped me again,' Amy's smile dripped venom. Damn it, legs... Come on!

Sander shook his head, 'Better doesn't mean sane, Amy. I still... We wanted you back. And I'm still gunning for the Doctor, with everything I have. So I bought this place, the entire moon, just for this,' He laughed. 'I know I said this last time, but there's no escape. We've... beefed up our security this time. He won't be able to just waltz in on us.'

'But he will,' Amy said resolutely. 'Of course he will. Even if he can't, Rory will. The two of them, they'll never stop until we're together again.'

'Well, I wish them luck,' Sander muttered darkly.

She saw it in him then; that same deep reserve of anger and strength that had so empowered him the last time. That had forced her to cum, again and again, practically at his word. The force of his dominance. Something in her stomach squirmed, a series of muscles up and down her abdomen trembled in what might have been antici-

No! No, she did not miss him! There was nothing good in this! What was wrong with her?! What had he done to her, more like?! This wasn't right!

'Sander, I'm begging you, reconsider,' Amy implored, ripping the thought from her mind with all the force she could muster. 'This isn't going to go any better than the first time, you know that. I can't take another round of this, and you probably won't survive another round with the Doctor. Even if you do, you won't survive Rory again. He'll kill you and I won't be able to stop him, assuming I even want to.'

'Do you know, we drew straws to decide who got to meet you here?' Sander tilted his head to one side. 'I won, obviously, which means I get to spend a little... Alone time with you.'

Sander's eyes glinted darkly, and Amy was left in no doubt as to what he meant. There was desire there, the same fascinated want that he had displayed during their last meeting, focused directly at her. She tried to slip back, but her thighs shook and her feet struggled to gain any purchase on the soft sand.

'Oh, Sander no-' She pleaded as he drew closer, silencing her with a forceful, heated kiss. His lips pressed against hers, and his weight bore her down onto the sand. He loomed over her, expertly capturing both her wrists and holding them over her head in one hand. As weak as she currently was, she had no hope of escaping him. 'Get off of me!' She spat, recognizing the futility of it even as it was happening.

'Oh, couldn't do that,' Sander said hoarsely as his eyes explored the body that hadn't been terribly far from his mind for three years. The fingers of his free hand hooked under the hem of her shirt and lifted it, exposing her creamy, panic-taut stomach inch by inch. She struggled uselessly as he did so, but whatever it was that had happened to her had robbed her of any useful strength. Even this small effort left her exhausted, and she arched her neck in defeat and refused to meet Sander's gaze. A grim ball of anguish built in her stomach.

In short order, Sander had Amy's shirt up over her chest, revealing the cool blue lines of her bra. She whimpered, and in response Sander dipped his head and licked the long, graceful curve of her neck. She shuddered.

'Still beautiful,' He noted with a smile, leaning down to force his tongue back into her mouth. Her eyes closed, and she moaned into his mouth.

'Still creepy,' Amy shot back, glaring at him with liquid eyes as he came up for breath. She squirmed uncomfortably as his knee forced her legs apart. He leaned down close, his face inches from her own, his fingers tickling delicately at the smooth skin of her belly, and he broke into a manic grin.

'Yes,' He nodded, circling his fingertips just so, causing Amy to whimper and buck against him. He peeled back first one bra cup, then the other, exposing her breasts to the cool sea air. The first lapping swell of the tide washed up around their feet, making Amy jerk in surprise; it wasn't that the water was cold- it was actually surprisingly warm- it was the suddenness with which the tide had come in.

'Yeah, tides come in kind of quick here,' Sander laughed, as if sensing her thoughts. His eyes swept over her pert tits, and he growled, 'God, the things I'm going to do to you...'

'I'd rather you didn't, you bastard!' She gasped as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, toying the edge of his tongue over it until it sprang erect against his teeth. Amy gritted her teeth as Sander repeated the move on her other breast, the growing heat of unwanted arousal washing through her. As her body betrayed her it shivered, her weight leaving an indent in the sand for her to drop into.

The water lapped higher, caressing her thighs as Sander slid her skirt down and off, throwing it onto the sand higher up the beach. Her underwear was similarly discarded moments later, torn from her hips in a display of the true extent of her assailant's manic desire. She lay stripped below him, sand rubbing coarsely at her back, the heat of him above her, the rich, thick sea breeze whipping her hair tantalizingly about her face, and the water drenching her like a lover's embrace. With her hands pinned above her head and the dizzying humiliation of the scene and Sander's villainous familiarity with her body's every pressure point... She felt her pussy moisten against her will; her body's eternal Judas.

Sander was breathing heavily, each exhalation carrying a tiny, satisfied laugh with it. His sunglasses lay forgotten on the sand, his cigarette had fallen into the water a long time ago; Amy had noted with interest that it seemed to have dissolved on contact with the ocean. His fingers tightened on her wrists, not painfully, just as a way of feeling the control he had over her. She knew, she remembered; this was his drug. The power play, the ebb and flow of his own dominance; gaining it over Amy, losing it with Mara...

She wondered, briefly, where the frightening blonde was. But her mind was just wandering, trying to escape this scene, from the heat in her belly and the shame in her head. From Sander's cock, suddenly aimed between her legs and drenched in seawater and her juices. The look on his face told her that he could tell that it was both, and not just the former.

'Got you wet, didn't I?' His smile seemed genuinely happy. 'I'd almost forgotten how damn responsive you are, Amy! I've missed this...'

He slid into her, slowly, taking his time and enjoying the invasion, savoring the feeling of every inch of himself being enveloped by her tight heat. Amy groaned, a rough, long sound that thrummed with despair at being caught in this situation again. Her cheeks flushed bright red.

'Stop! Just s-stop...' She said unsteadily as Sander began moving inside her, beginning that old, terrible friction. Her thighs were already twitching with each thrust. This wasn't helped by the way the water licked at her skin like a warm kiss; the tide was only getting higher. It washed over the two of them, suddenly high enough to reach up to her neck, and her skin tingled with every wave. The strange blue particles in the water swept across her flesh, only seeming to enhance the sensation. But it was at its worst when it boiled up over her hips, between the motions of Sander's increasingly forceful fucking. When it splashed with every thrust, up over the folds of her pussy, over her clit, between the cheeks of her ass. It made crackling arcs of electricity shoot up her spine; she began to anticipate the rhythm of the waves and every addictive burst of pleasure that went along with them.


Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 01



She was distracted, but her mind posed the question; had Sander done this on purpose? Had he known this would happen? What was in this ocean?

But then the water swept over her in time with a particularly strong forward thrust that sent an arc of liquid against her clit like the tongue of mother nature herself, and Amy squealed with genuine, unrestrained pleasure. Sander paused, looked down, seemed to realize for the first time that they were getting wet. He shot her a lopsided grin and looked over his shoulder.

'Oh, no... Ngh!' Amy grunted hotly as Sander began to time his thrusts with the incoming waves, so that each deep, powerful thrust sent a splash of water up against her sensitive button. Her hips began jerking up to meet every push against her and her moans grew louder, filling with frustrated anger and lust. He was fucking her with the kind of precision that a normal man could never possess; a kind of malicious intellect that sought to give her so much pleasure, whether she wanted it or not.

Her whole body was wracked with powerful, quaking shivers as her disloyal body broke down every layer of mental resistance she had. The ocean embraced her, again and again, each wave filling her up with just a little more white hot fire as the water danced against her most sensitive areas, licking up at her at Sander's direction. His cock slid across every vulnerable, sensitive area inside her as though it was seeking them out; her toes were in a permanent curl.

Amy screamed out loud when Sander perfectly timed an inward thrust with a particularly large wave and bent down to lick at her nipples, sucking them into his mouth as his dark gaze captured her eyes. She shrieked in hypersensitivity, eyes filling with shameful tears; he was looking right into her, he knew how hot she was getting.

'Ha! Sex on the beach!' Sander snarled, voice filled with animal lust. 'This is doing it for you, isn't it? Getting you off? You gonna cum, slut?'

'N... N-not a slu- Ah! Fuck!' Amy tried to protest, but the breathless pace of his fucking robbed her of the words, reduced her to moaning desperately. He was really giving it to her now, her breasts bouncing in time with every slamming, burning strike of his dick into her flooded depths.

She knew, then, that she was going to cum. It wasn't a line she wanted to cross, but Sander wasn't giving her a choice. The terrible truth was that he would drag her over that line kicking and screaming, probably quite literally so. He would watch her orgasm beneath him, humiliate her for his own pleasure, perhaps force her over that precipice again and again, if he could. She didn't want to cum for him, but her body was an anchor about to be thrown over the edge of that cliff. She would be washed away on the tide, helpless to resist it.

It was already building, a deep, reverberating pressure from the depths of her, slowly spreading, casting fiery tendrils of pleasure through every nerve. Tugging on the string that connected her pussy to everything else, demanding that her body be aware of what was being done to it.

She found that the water smelled oddly sweet, as it swept high enough to caress her cheek, the blue light that suffused it casting a vague, eerie glow on her skin. She bucked against Sander in one final desperate attempt to escape, arms pulling as hard as she could against his implacable grip. She could feel the gripping fist of climax wrap around her.

It was the ocean's embrace that finally tipped Amy over the edge, as it slid between her legs. She growled in frustration through clenched teeth as it boiled over her, the walls of her cunt clenching down on Sander's cock. She came hard, shrinking into herself as her muscles tensed and shuddered, the pressure of her forced arousal causing her back to arch. Sander took the opportunity to stroke his palm across her stiff nipples, eyes never leaving hers as he watched her come. Bolts of red fire shot through her at his touch.

Sander grinned wolfishly as she came down with a final, weak shiver, 'Wait 'til you see what happens now.' He said cryptically. Amy didn't have to wonder what he meant for long.

The azure lights in the water ceased their movement, freezing completely even as the currents continued to move. The glow increased, casting Sander in chilled blue light as he continued screwing her. Around them, the ocean was occluded in a curtain of cobalt fire. And it tingled.

Her climax dwindled, spun down to a light fizz between her legs, and then suddenly it bloomed again, violently. She gasped loudly, thrashed helplessly as her body filled with fire again. The light rose higher, seemed to lick at her skin independently of the waves, causing her to spasm in desperate, intense ecstasy. It was frightening, in a way, having control over even this aspect of her body wrested away from her by this unknown thing. Only Sander's gritted teeth and calm, joyful eyes stopped her from panicking, indicating that he was feeling it too, and was fine with it.

Whatever the light was, it forced Amy to cum in a yoyo rhythm; it shrank down to a teasing sensation that made her whimper before exploding again into a violent, screaming, thrashing orgasm that swept aside her rational mind. It never left her completely, sapping her resistance orgasm by orgasm, until she was reduced to grinding mindlessly against Sander's fucking and moaning. Wherever the water touched her it brought the light; it splashed against her hips, her stomach, her breasts, leaving traceries of warmth and a pleasurable tingling that only made her forced orgasms worse.

Sander's hand wandered her body, kneading at her tits and stomach; in her addled state, Amy found it hard to distinguish between his touch and the glow. She ended up pushing herself desperately against his hand, aching for anything that could satisfy her, stop the endless chain of climaxes. He growled with his own satisfaction, seemingly completely at peace with the maddening endlessness of the light.

The radiant blue glowed brighter, practically blinding Amy; all she could see was Sander above her, his dick buried in her vulnerable pussy. It seemed almost as though the illumination was building to some critical mass, and she had some pretty good ideas as to what would happen when it got there.

By this point, Amy was able to anticipate the up and down pace of her cumming, so when the cycle back down lasted only half as long as it should have, she knew that whatever it was, it was happening now. Sander grunted, burying his length all the way inside her as she began her frantic upswing, moaning loudly. She felt the first spurting shot of his orgasm inside her, the light reached truly blinding brightness, and her cycle swung higher, above the regular end point.

It shattered her resolve, burned through her. The water felt like it was boiling. Her legs wrapped around Sander's waist with a suddenly crushing strength; she felt the breath go out of him. Her hands broke free of his grasp, shot up to his neck, pulled him down on top of her, crushed him to her breast. She was holding on for dear life; as more and more of his cum filled her, her orgasm rose higher, unnaturally, unbearably so, and she screamed, the sound echoing down the beach.

The alien, forced orgasm filled her up until she thought she might burst, it tore her apart, left only a trembling, tense shell in her place. Her body shook violently as it clung to the still orgasming Sander, but her mind was gone, swept away by the blue light, capable only of focusing on the light. Filled with the light.

It seemed to go on for an eternity, Amy's hips bucking against each powerful wave of tearing pleasure, moaning breathlessly. Sander seemed to have a never ending supply of cum to fill her with, the light seeming to affect him in much the same way. Each boiling shot of his sperm forced a rippling bolt of fire up through her spine, and she writhed helplessly with it. Her teeth were chattering, her eyes crossed, her vision blurred...

And suddenly, it was over. The glow shut off, as if a switch had been thrown. Sander was soft, and he slipped out of her, spent. He rolled to one side, collapsing onto the sand beside her. Amy dropped back down to reality with shocking abruptness, control over her aching muscles returned to her. But she couldn't do anything with them, besides lie on the beach and gasp in trembling, deep breaths. Her well fucked pussy glistened between her lewdly splayed legs, dripping Sander's cum into the water as it lapped at her with its usual hungriness.

For several minutes, neither of them could do anything but pant and try to enjoy the comforting warmth of the water. As their strength returned, Sander spoke first.

'Fuck...' He swore, clenching and unclenching his fists. 'Mara loves these beaches,' He added.

'What was that?' Amy asked in a quavering voice. She didn't trust her body quite yet, but she hazarded an attempt at turning her head to look at Sander, with an acceptable level of success.

'We don't know!' He shrugged, pulling himself up into a seating position. 'We call it the diamond dust. It's in the water... sometimes it's in the air, too. It's psychoreactive, and when you have sex in it, it does... that.'

'I can see why that might appeal,' Amy squeaked. 'I would have appreciated some warning, since you were already forcing yourself on me!'

'And ruin the surprise?' Sander retrieved his sunglasses as he gazed out at the horizon. Large black clouds were brewing, right at the edge of the world, and they were approaching quickly.

'Do they always do that?' Amy gestured vaguely at the clouds, stretching the kinks out of her aching musculature. She still didn't trust herself to stand, realizing miserably that this was probably her best chance to escape on her own.

'Yeah, the storms come in real fast. But it's okay,' Sander smiled easily. 'Don't know about you, but I'm kind of sweaty.'

'Yeah, okay...'

As an admittedly shameful afterthought, Amy covered herself up, pulling her shirt back down and rescuing her skirt from the beach, gazing forlornly at her ruined panties as she slid herself into it. She was clothed again, just in time to be drenched by the sudden onset rain. Even so, she had to admit, it was a pleasant distraction from the realities of her situation.

She turned her face to the suddenly dark sky, allowing the rain to wash over her, sweeping away the sweat and sand that matted her hair. Each drop was warm, like the seawater, and oddly comforting as it left the same tingling sensations where it landed. She sighed deeply, filled with resignation. There had to be a way out of this eventually...

Sander stood quickly, clothes back in order and dripping from the now very heavy rain. He yawned, and extended a hand to help Amy to her feet. This time, she took it, and got upright with barely a quiver. Oh, so now her strength returns...   

'Come on, Amy,' Sander said, casting his eyes further down the beach. 'I have a lot to show you.'

'Yeah, I bet you do,' Amy quipped bitterly.

'Not like that,' Sander shook his head. 'I mean... Well, you should come see my baby, for one.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 02



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read that one first.

Hi, everyone! This is the second chapter, and I promise that the plot will begin next chapter, now that the three main characters have been reintroduced. You can see smatterings of it towards the end of this one, so hey.

Now, I won't be submitting a chapter next week: I'm getting married on Monday; I'll be a bit busy for a while.

I'd like to thank my soon-to-be wife Isabel for being completely amazing and wonderful, and more appropriately for her editing and creative input on this chapter. I couldn't ask for a better writing partner (and yes, she does read these things when they go up!) Praise be also to Allyourbase, a talented writer and badass editor who's real good at improving these things. Thanks, guys!

Votes, feedback and comments, no matter the content, are hugely appreciated. Enjoy!

*************

The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving the two figures comfortably drenched and standing at the edge of a rapidly disappearing beach. The added water weight clung to them, dripping slowly to the sand below.

Sander grinned and took Amy's hand, the sudden contact making her flinch, and gently guided her to walk alongside him. Ruefully, she glanced over her shoulder, recognizing that this was as good a chance as any to escape, but... Where would she go?

They walked for a while in silence, as the water sloshed higher about their ankles and their clothes slowly dried in the afternoon sunlight. Sander ran his free hand through his damp hair and grinned wider; this place was a miracle. Leaving aside that the water, with the exception of the diamond dust, was almost absurdly pure, everything else here was... Well, idyllic. And it had stood up well to his insistent colonization attempts, despite all the changes he had made to the place. Sometimes he could almost feel the machinery humming below the surface. When he had arrived, the moon had been practically hollow, only seven feet of crust, and then the yawning blackness at the core. Not anymore...

He stopped at a set of stairs attached to the cliff face, elevating it above the encroaching ocean. They ascended the few feet, and Sander stood expectantly before the stony wall.

'Good evening, Jericho,' He called, to no one in particular.

'Hello, Sander Hackett,' A chilled male voice drifted through the air, seemingly from the cliff itself. 'Did you enjoy your... encounter?'

Sander grinned, nodded, 'I did, my friend. And before Amy says anything otherwise, she came. Oh yes, she did.' He gave her a stare like liquid mercury that made her heart skip a beat, before turning back, 'Open the door, Jericho, and prepare the sequencer for my arrival.'

'Yes, sir,' And with that, a large section of rocky wall slid up, revealing a deep, darkly colored passage behind it. Track lighting set at either side of the corridor provided just enough illumination to see that it descended into the heart of the cliff, capped by another heavy steel door at the opposite end. Sander pulled Amy inside, taking the lead since there wasn't enough room to walk abreast.

'Who was that?' Amy ventured, as they made it halfway down the corridor and the door in the cliff slid closed.

'A.I,' Sander shrugged, one hand trailing along the wall. 'This is a big place. Certain things need to be automated. We're here.'

He palmed a small scanner pad inset in the wall, watching as blue light played up and down the contact pad before a friendly tone chirped in recognition and the door slid open. Sander hopped down a sudden drop of about three feet, reaching up to help Amy down after him.

They were in some sort of two-lane underground highway that stretched on forever in one direction, but curved away in the other. Larger lights carved away at the darkness, and Sander spread his arms wide below a looming figure.

'Your ride, milady,' He winked at her. Behind him, the robot loomed, clad in orange metal, helmed head jutting proudly over the rest of its spindly body. Two mechanical, three-pronged claws tipped arms so thin Amy could hardly believe they weren't snapping under the weight. It was humanoid, until one got to the waist, where it split apart into four rigid struts, each ending in a large, orb-like wheel positioned in a groove on the road below. Above it, a complex looking rig extended from its back up to a series of cables running along the roof in either direction.

'What the hell is that?' Amy asked, staring up at the impressive figure. 'It's not going to malfunction and attack us like the last one, is it?'

'No!' Sander snapped, as though the very idea was ridiculous. 'This is a Paladin. A transport robot. I built it.'

'Yeah, why doesn't that fill me with confidence?' Amy rolled her eyes. 'And hey, most people use cars...'

'Most people are chumps,' Sander stared up at the giant Mech. His left eye glowed as segmented lines of light ran across the iris. The robot's chest plate opened up, revealing the interior of the cockpit. He clambered up a small ladder set into the front of the robot and jumped down into the pilot's seat, extending a hand to Amy, 'They can't afford badass robots. I have the key for this one implanted in my Mech eye, in case you had any cute ideas about that. You get to ride up front, by the way.'

She rolled her eyes again, but began her ascent anyway. Being uncooperative would land her nowhere, right now, 'What are the wires for?' Amy gestured at the ceiling.

'Pantograph lines,' Sander grunted, pulling her up next to him. 'These things are kind of hard to control without them.'

'Seriously, confidence just skyrocketing here...'

'That's enough out of you!' Sander clapped her on the back before sliding his hands into a pair of grips at either side of the cockpit. Both grips were set into rails that extended down the length of the cockpit to the limit of Sander's reach. He grinned and leaned himself further forward. There was just something about sitting in the driver's seat of a giant robot...

'So then... Onward.'

A shower of sparks cascaded down from the cables above, and the robot shot forward, wheels chewing up distance at a startling pace. The tunnel stretched out ahead of them as Sander piloted the Paladin around the tight curve and out into the long stretch of straight highway.

'I don't get it,' Amy said suddenly as Sander reached over her head to get to a bank of switches. 'Where are we going? If you could teleport me out of the TARDIS, why put me anywhere but right into a cell?' She wondered, briefly, whether this counted as helping him or not.

'The short answer is temporal drift,' Sander said. 'It takes a while for the D-scalpel to build the requisite charge. Meanwhile, Trismestigius is still rotating... I mean, if we hadn't managed to lock the coordinates to the ground, you might have been 'ported into space, since we're in orbit here. The ocean was just a happy accident, but we're working on it.'

'None of that made any sense to me,' Amy said blankly. 'Was it supposed to? Because if it was, you need to try harder.'

'It's easier to just show you,' Sander sighed. 'Wait 'til we're there.'

'And you said baby, Sander,' Amy said.

'Did I? Really?' Sander grinned. 'Just wait, I said.'

They rode the rest of the way in silence, as miles of featureless transport corridor sped past them. Amy's mind wheeled for the whole trip, weighing up her options before coming to the rather unsatisfying conclusion that there was very little she could do, trapped on a strange planet and easily outclassed by her captors. She knew there was probably a Command Collar in her future, just like last time, and the only thing she could reasonably hope for is that Sander and Mara liked her enough to dial back a little this time. It didn't seem likely, based on historical evidence and... All of this.

By the time the robot stopped, Amy had worked herself up into quite a state, imagining what was in her future if the Doctor and Rory didn't hurry the hell up. By the time Sander had opened the hatch and lead her out onto the landing platform, her guts had turned to water. By the time they had gotten to a much more normal-looking door, and Sander turned to her with a wriggled eyebrow, she was imagining every terrible thing that he could have built in three years for the sole purpose of torturing her. He never gives up, she knew. Like a dog with a piece of meat.

As the piece of meat, Amy found that a distinctly unhappy outcome.

'Here we are! Jericho, is the sequencer ready?' Sander tapped one foot on the cool, polished floor.

'Yes, sir. Sequencer application loaded and ready for use,' This time, Jericho's voice issued from a clearly visible pair of speakers on the wall. Wordlessly, Sander grabbed Amy's wrist and pressed her hand against another contact pad on the wall.

'Okay, now you're going to feel a little-'

'Ow!'

'Prick, yes,' Sander said sheepishly. 'And now you're in the system! Jericho, give her restricted access.'

'Executing,' Jericho affirmed.

'So now our security systems won't peg you as hostile the moment you enter the place,' Sander said. 'Just don't do anything to provoke them. I've programmed them to use nonlethal means on logged entrants like yourself, but I doubt it's entirely enjoyable anyway.'

'Somehow I doubt any of this is going to be particularly enjoyable, thanks all the same,' She quipped.

'Well, yeah,' Sander chuckled for some unfathomable reason. 'Anyway, we're expected inside.'

The door opened, and Amy blinked. She had been expecting... Well, something else. She had been expecting something like the old asteroid base, even though everything around her said otherwise. Another nightmarish maze of cast iron corridors spinning through the infinite blackness of space. Another windowless cell where even the walls could hurt her, if Sander wanted them to.

What she hadn't expected was... Well, everything.

The door opened almost immediately onto a large, circular room filled with light. It seemed to have been set up as a kind of living room; impossibly soft-looking seats, an imposing bar opposite the door, and a large window that spanned much of the opposing wall affording them a view of an immense, idyllic grass plain, wavering slowly in the afternoon sun. Sander stepped inside and turned back, staring expectantly.

'Well? You gotta admit, this is a step up from-'

'Sander!' A blur of motion swept across the room and slammed into Sander.

He buckled sideways at Mara's full-contact glomp, taking a few unsteady steps to one side in time with her attendant cry of "Love!" Something crackled electrically in his false leg, and he winced.

'Ow! Mara, you can't keep tackling me like this,' He turned in her arms as she peppered his face with kisses. 'My leg can't take the weight of two people, as fun as it is. I keep getting shocked...' He returned her energetic kisses with aplomb. They laughed.

'What the hell happened to the two of you?' Amy interrupted quizzically.

'Oh, hello beautiful!' Mara grinned, face lighting up as she spotted Amy. 'We're together now. Sander's my lover boy,' She added lasciviously. Sander looked sheepish.

'When did that happen?' Amy asked, growing increasingly horrified.

'Um... Remember Nirvana?' Sander said speculatively.

Amy's expression grew dark, 'How could I forget?'

'Remember when I dragged Mara out of the room when she was fucking you?'

'When you left me completely alone, chained up and naked in an alien brothel? Yes,' Amy spat.

'Then.'

'Fantastic,' Amy deadpanned. 'Really. I'm so glad that the two of you were able to find each other. So, so, glad. Especially since you've kidnapped me again!'

'We're no strangers to sarcasm, Amy,' Mara replied flatly.

'Are you strangers to normal social conventions?' Amy's head tilted to one side. 'Because Sander did just rape me on the beach.'

Mara knocked the back of her hand against Sander's chest, 'Way to go, stud. Was the diamond dust up?'

'Oh, yeah. Way up.'

'How fun for you!' Mara grinned at Amy. 'I remember my first time in the dust... Whew!'

'That was a fun day,' Sander nodded. He gestured down at his still damp clothes, 'Well, anyway, can you take Amy down to the cells, my dear? I needs me a shower. Be sure she gets some new clothes herself.'

'Sure thing, Hackett,' Mara nodded. 'But I give no promises as to whether I'll keep my hands off her myself.'

Amy made a loud, indignant noise, with a stamp of one bare foot. For a moment, she was subject to the forces of her own white hot, undirected rage, before Sander slipped a familiar looking collar around her neck, 'No, damn it!' She yelled.

'Sorry, Amy, but you know the drill,' He shrugged. 'Listen, this time? There's a tracker and a teleportation array built in to that thing. So if you try to escape, we can send you right back to your cell at the touch of a button, okay?'

'I swear, I'll-' Amy began, before Mara grabbed her by the wrist and forcefully began leading her away.

'Come on, Amy,' Her voice cut in with a steely note. 'Maybe don't disrespect my Sander around me just now. Let's go.'

Sander gave her a cheerful thumbs up before disappearing around a corner. Mara tugged her in a different direction.

'This place is nice, huh?' Mara grinned over her shoulder as they travelled down a light filled passageway and into an immense, high-ceilinged plaza. A huge, carpeted staircase swept up onto a separate level featuring a number of sturdy looking doors in rows at either side of the room.

'It's a step up, sure...' Amy wavered, looking around.

'Well, it took a long time to get everything set up. We were the first colonists here, bought the place from a mining company that acquired the rights to the entire system,' Mara gave a little laugh. 'Of course, they didn't know the place was hollow when they bought it. Just seven feet of crust earth, then... Nothing. Just perfect, for us, and we got it for a song.'

'Such shrewd business skills,' Amy's disinterested sarcasm was beginning to get on Mara's nerves. Wasn't she considered a threat anymore? Where was that goddamn fear?

Something told her she was going to enjoy re-instilling that fear. Yes.

'Look, not that I'm not happy to have my favorite plaything back, but shouldn't you be, like, quaking, or something?' Mara pouted. 'I was hoping for quaking. I like it when you tremble.'

Amy sighed, filled herself up with righteous exasperation, and put her hands on her hips, 'Listen Mara, we've done all this before. The Doctor's coming, and when he gets here-'

Mara slammed her against the nearest wall, shutting her up completely. Her expression hadn't changed, she was still projecting sunny good humor, but her voice was flat, quiet and just a little too pointed, 'I could kill you, you know? Right now. I installed a little something extra in your Command Collar, just so I could. See, Sander... I won't let the Doctor swan in here and ruin everything again. He won't be able to handle that again. If he does find you, I can make sure he backs off. If I can, I won't kill anyone. Sander dislikes it, he'd probably never forgive me if I killed you... But I will, if it's to protect him.'

Amy's face shifted, Mara's smile grew that little bit brighter, 'There's the fear I was looking for. Good girl.'

'You'd kill me?' Amy breathed, suddenly dropped into a big pit of too-damn-serious.

Mara arched an eyebrow, showed a smile with a little too much pointed tooth, 'Don't escape, Amy Pond.'

She led Amy along the line of featureless white doors until they reached one nearest a long corridor. Mara pointed, 'Sander and I live down there, and you live here. We figure we'll be coming to you pretty regularly. Isn't that exciting?'

'There's more than one cell,' Amy gasped, realization dawning. Mara wriggled her eyebrows.

'Yes there is.'

The door opened, Amy was pushed inside. She had been in their cells before, and this one wasn't terribly different; that is to say, it was a prison cell. But the sheer dinginess of this one was... deflating. Despite herself, Amy made a little despairing noise.

Mara clucked her tongue, 'Oh, how depressing. Jerry, I thought I told you to turn on the overlay system before we entered the room?'

'You did, ma'am,' Jericho's voice was startlingly close, seeming to come out of the walls. 'My apologies, but my attentions have been elsewhere. Miss Kana-'

'Just activate the overlay, Jerry!' Mara cut him off. 'No need to spoil the surprise!'

'Executing,' Suddenly, the world was flooded with static and light. Amy blinked in the sudden brightness, and when her eyes opened again, she was in a different room. Mara placed her hand against the clock that hung on one wall, causing it to ripple and buzz.

'Holographic overlays,' She said conversationally. 'Much better!'

The size and shape of the room hadn't changed, now that Amy thought about it. It had just increased in quality. Everything gleamed, and the addition of a large window looking out onto the ocean only helped matters. I was still just a place to exist, in between serving Sander and Mara's twisted little whims, but at least Amy felt she could stand to be here for hours at a stretch.

Mara leaned her head against the window, looking out onto the calm sea beyond. It seemed solid enough, under her touch, and Amy wondered; where was the camera recording that view?

'There's a lot of ocean, in this place,' Mara mused, before turning back to Amy. 'Now then... Sander's had his fun. Why, I believe that leaves little old me to take a turn.'

She stalked the distance between herself and her prey, grinning wickedly. Amy found herself sighing at the familiar parlance of her captivity; "take a turn," like she really was nothing but an object to be used and discarded according to the will of her captors. Very familiar, yet something was different this time, and it wasn't just Sander's startlingly good mood.

Of course, she didn't have long to contemplate this, not when Mara crash tackled her at waist height, bearing them both to the large, and really rather soft, for a prison, bed. Her eyes glowed brightly in the second Amy was allowed to see them before Mara attacked her again, all lips and tongue and teeth and fingers.

'Mara, wait-' Amy stammered as Mara's tongue left her mouth and swept along her collarbone. Mara tugged at the Command Collar around her captive's neck.

'Oh, I don't think I have to do that, Amy!' The blonde woman gave a whiplash smile before diving back down, practically tearing Amy's shirt up over her head. 'Three years I've been waiting to do this again! Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say!'

'When they say that, they are not envisioning this scenario, you know!' Amy snapped back, shaking her head.

'I don't really give a fuck what people think of when they think up stupid axioms, Amy! All I care about, right now, is the intense fun I'm going to have, now that you're back. And baby, you don't know the half of it. How much things have changed...' Mara stopped, shook her head fondly. She stood, started disrobing herself, 'No, plenty of time for that later. Now, you can strip yourself off, and earn yourself some fresh clothes when you're finished... Or- and I should hasten to mention that I have absolutely no qualms about doing this- I can help you out of your clothes. Forcefully. And then you can spend the rest of the afternoon running around naked for your disobedience. Your choice, of course.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 02



Now totally naked herself, Mara leaned back against the nearest wall, the overlay rippling around her like water. Once again, Amy was struck with that familiar mix of fear and jealousy that seemed to hit her around Mara's naked flesh. She had always had this ephemeral, idealized beauty that verged upon physical perfection, but this was somehow worse; the intervening three years seemed to have passed her by without affecting her at all.

Mara grinned widely as she inspected Amy's stare, and gave a motion for her to hurry up, 'I know, right? I look hot! That's not even conceited, that's observation. Isn't gene therapy wonderful? We all get it as kids, just as a matter of course. You'd never guess that Sander's thirty-six, would you? He still looks twenty-four!' She sighed appreciatively, 'I can really get behind technology like that...'

Amy paused, thought for a second, 'Yeah, I can see that. But listen-'

'Do I seem like I've changed terribly in three years, Amy?' Mara said sweetly. 'Because from my perspective, the delaying becomes boring. I've said what's going to happen, the rest is up to you. Now, you can give me as many poisonous glares as you want, but I want you naked, girl.'

Amy gave Mara a poisonous glare. Already basically topless, it was the work of a moment to remove her-still damp- skirt while maintaining her dark little stare. Frankly, she was glad to be rid of the clinging, water-logged garments, but she'd be damned if she was going to feel anything positive about being naked in front of Mara Syfte.

Mara tilted her head to one side, eyes scanning Amy's body with an appreciative glint, 'Oh my yes. It has been too long since I've been able to play with all of this... Now, there's a lot to get through today, so we'll have to be quick. You're going to get me off, so lie down.'

Amy shot Mara another of those killer glares, but with the Command Collar wrapped tight around her neck she knew there was very little point in resisting. Try as she might, she was unable to forget the events of her last stint in captivity, especially Mara's reactions to resistance. She acquiesced, lying on her back on the bed with a blank stare, her hair pooling around her and Mara's vicious grin filling her vision.

'Oh, you are being a good girl today!' Mara clapped delightedly. 'Very good decision, my dear.'

Mara's graceful, long-limbed form slithered up onto the bed beside Amy, every movement dripping sensuality. She examined her captive's face closely, with dangerous eyes, before swooping in for a powerful, suffocating kiss. Amy moaned against the intrusion, her guts turning to water in dread at what was about to happen to her. Mara's tongue was in her mouth, again, probing her and licking at her lips as she withdrew. Never taking her eyes off of Amy's, Mara gave an evil little giggle and licked her lips.

Her hands stroked idly over every inch of Amy's recumbent body, each gesture carrying the silent, unasked question: What should I do with you? Amy tried her hardest not to react, but found herself shuddering at Mara's insistent, probing touch. She stroked down, slowly tracking down her belly, closer and closer to sliding between her legs. Amy quivered.

She could almost feel her Collar heat up in anticipation, waiting for her to stop squirming restlessly and actually resist Mara's unwanted advances. Those long fingers crept ever closer to her pussy, tickling her skin and making her blood boil. Mara's confident, easygoing expression just made it worse; it was as if Amy was just a possession again, something to be taken and discarded at will. Again!

She yelped and jumped at the first delicate, feather soft stroke of her pussy, Mara's grin growing wider as her fingers caressed Amy's outer lips. She teased them delicately, fingers massaging Amy's labia with the occasional playful poke at her clit that made her shudder. Mara never penetrated her, that wasn't the point; the teasing was enough. Eventually, once Amy had relaxed into Mara's circular, frustrating caresses, once Mara's fingers had become coated in a thin layer of juices, she stopped. Amy tried unsuccessfully to restrain a tiny growl of disappointment.

'Well, that was fun,' Mara shrugged. She gripped both of Amy's wrists, 'Now it's your turn.'

The redheaded captive struggled as Mara swung her legs over to straddle her chest, pinning Amy's arms under her knees. She slid her hips forward, moving her pussy closer to Amy's face.

'Infer from context what is expected of you, and go from there,' Mara sighed, eyes closed in satisfaction at the power she now held. She liked the feeling of pinning a naked girl beneath her. The thought struck her that she was probably not alone in this.

Amy kept on struggling, trying to dislodge the weight of the blonde woman unsuccessfully. Her whole body twisted and bucked as her eyes bore silently into Mara's. It was important, necessary, to put up some form of resistance, if only to prove to herself that she was more than just their captive.

Mara frowned, sighed, 'Command: Lick me out. See? I didn't want to have to go there...'

Amy's eyes closed as the familiar feeling of her body being wrested away from her took control. Inexorably, her mouth opened, her pink tongue tasted open air before sliding the length of Mara's slit.

'Oh, yeah!' Mara giggled with a contented little smirk as Amy's neck craned, her mouth nibbling and sucking energetically at her pussy. She leaned back with a loud exhalation, the curve of her breasts pert and prominent on her chest. Her head tipped back, golden hair cascading down her back.

For her part, Amy had forgotten just how horrible the Command Collar was. Although her mind rebelled and screamed for her to stop, her body was in the grips of enforced obedience. Her senses still worked; she could see Mara grinning above her, hear her increasingly strident moans of pleasure, smell and taste the evidence of her arousal on her tongue and in her nose. It was like being a prisoner in her own head.

Amy's nose wrinkled, she groaned a little as she felt her tongue slide into Mara's hot, wet depths. Mara herself growled in deep satisfaction and stroked a hand through her captive's red tresses, grinning with heavy-lidded eyes. Bolts of wild heat shot through her with every lash of the helpless woman's tongue, every nibble of her teeth, every wonderful sucking motion; she wondered what, exactly, it was that Sander had done to modify the software in the Collar. He had made that thing awesome for her.

Very soon, Mara was grinding her hips against Amy's mouth, coating her lips and chin in her juices. She moaned loudly, closing her eyes just to lose herself in the sensation. These past three years with Sander had been great, but she had missed being able to do this; something in it just worked. It was nice, to have a toy like Amy around...

A fresh rush of juices coated Amy's tongue as Mara came, bucking her hips down forcefully towards the source of her pleasure as she did so. She gasped once, in the grip of orgasm, her muscles first tensing, then seeming to melt like butter as she rode out the waves of climax with Amy sobbing beneath her. The moment of fiery passion ended with a crystalline silence as Mara swayed gently on the spot, skin enflamed and senses slowly drifting back to earth.

'Oh wow...' She sighed, laughter bubbling up from some deep place within her. She rolled to one side, collapsing onto the bed and panting for breath with a dreamy look on her face. She stretched languorously, the muscles of her long limbs twitching with the final, satisfied tremors of orgasm.

Amy had turned herself to one side, refusing even to acknowledge Mara's presence. She hadn't forgotten the last time, all the humiliation this woman and her partner had put her though; but having to experience it all over again, with no end in sight, was an entirely new low. She wondered, with an encroaching fugue of hopelessness descending upon her, how long it would take the Doctor to find her this time. How long until she was back with Rory.

Or could it be that this time there was no escape? Last time, she had only gotten loose because Sander had overlooked something, and he had rectified that mistake since. Last time, the only reason the Doctor had found her at all was that Sander's insistence on broadcasting every second of her torment live had accidentally revealed too much information. It was too much to assume that he was broadcasting all this again. Not when he had a whole moon at his disposal.

A sharp poke to the back broke Amy out of her reverie. Mara was standing over her with an arched brow, the fingers of one hand idly teasing her hair, 'Listen kid, think on your own time. I am sure Sander has at least a bit more showing off to do today. So! Clothes, girlie.' She pointed at a closet inset in the wall, 'I'll just... watch. And hey, look on the bright side: If you hurry, you might get to see Sander fresh from the shower.' She winked, gave a cheeky little shiver.

Amy chose to ignore her, but for a single derisive roll of the eyes. She clambered off of the bed, hoping fervently that she wasn't shaking, and went to the closet. She didn't exactly have high hopes for the contents.

She still remembered the last time these two had provided her with clothes...

************

Sander felt somehow cleansed after showering. This was odd, because most of the time he avoided water like a cartoon cat. It was all his mechanical parts that did it; electricity and water rarely mixed, and if he wasn't careful... He'd even been a bit nervous back out at the beach. The rain afterwards hadn't exactly helped. His entire physiology was a bit of a crapshoot when it came to water.

He had to take his eye out, at least, and that was rarely a fun experience, what with the direct optic nerve plug and all. Science could grow him a new eye, but it couldn't waterproof the one he had...

Even with only half his sight, he could tell there was someone sitting in his office chair, the high back turned to obscure his view.

Quantum indeterminacy... It could be anyone in that chair. The galaxy was still full of people looking to take a piece out of Sander Hackett, especially with the recent rumors circulating on the net that he was still alive. Those were troubling; how did the universe get wind of that? It wasn't like he was running through the streets screaming it; he hadn't been off world in three years!

All that aside... There wasn't exactly a lot he could do if it was an enemy, still damp and wrapped in a towel. There were other people on this moon, this felt like something one of them would do. Sander decided to chance it; he cleared his throat loudly.

'Hey, San-chan,' A flat voice drifted languidly over the top of the chair. Sander breathed a sigh of relief. So good to know...

'Hi, Ren,' He rolled his eyes. 'We've been through this, my name isn't San-chan. You can't nickname a nickname.'

'I can do whatever I want, San-chan,' Ren shifted the chair to regard him. Her eyes swept the length of his bare torso, and she arched an eyebrow, 'Damn, San-chan!'

'Don't tease me, girl,' Sander said darkly. 'Who knows what I might do to you?'

'No, no, seriously! Like... Fuck, man!' Ren bit down on a knuckle theatrically. Sander had never been able to tell when she was being serious, 'You look good, is all I'm saying...'

'Oh,' Sander trailed off. This kind of game was common, between the two of them, and Ren was an attractive woman, even if she was scary as hell and had muscles that could comfortably snap him in two. And those spellbinding eyes of hers...

No, no. Not worth the hassle. She was...

'Why are you here, Ren?' Sander spoke a little more forcefully than he would have liked to, trying to derail that train of thought before it went to its logical conclusion.

Ren pulled her beloved combat knife from her shoulder-sheath, started idly flipping it from palm to palm, 'I want a shot at Amy.'

'We all want that, Ren,' Sander shrugged.

'I want the next shot at Amy.'

'Now why should I give you that, Ren?'

'Ever seen me throw a knife, Sander?' Ren's gaze turned pointed.

Sander smiled, 'Ever seen Jericho shoot a knife out of the air with the automated zero-point system, Ren? Don't think you can threaten me, I'm the core of this system.'

'I'd like to see that,' Ren laughed. 'But I'm not threatening you, San-chan. I could, but I'm not. What I'm saying is that Amy's never seen anything like me before. The things I could do...'

'I know the things you could do. And Amy's never seen anything like Dulsie, either, so your argument lacks merit,' Sander sighed again, and shook his head. 'But, if you want the next round, it's yours. I just want to show off the Eternity Engine before you do. Just go to the undercroft and wait there.'

'First you, Imouto-chan's probably doing her right now... Three in one day?' Ren grinned wickedly. On her, the adjective was entirely appropriate, 'That's one hell of a mean streak you've got there, San-chan... I like it.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 03



Author's Note: This is the sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello! I am back, with a new ring, a honeymoon high that I'm still riding, and a new last name (yes, I took my wife's last name.) And most importantly, my incredible wife, who is beautiful, creative and absolutely perfect for me (hi, honey!)

This chapter is dedicated to her. My Isabel, who helped me in writing it, who edited it, and who served as the inspiration for Ren (and Mara, to be honest). It was a pleasure to write this, more than usual, because of her.

Also to be thanked, Allyourbase, for some amazing suggestions that made me grin and laugh like a maniac. It's good to have two amazingly creative people to look over my fumbling prose and tell me exactly where I've gone wrong. Thanks, you two!

You know, I got asked in the comments for the last chapter whether River Song or Captain Jack would be making an appearance. The answer to one of those questions is yes, and the other is no, though I won't say which is which. Spoilers, and all. I pass this question over to you, readers: would you like to see either of those characters here? In what capacity? In fact, let me throw that out there: what other characters would y'all like to see? I'm only really familiar with New Who, so if there's any classic characters you'd like, drop me a line and tell me about 'em!

Votes, comments and feedback remain deeply yearned for. I love hearing what you guys think, so please shout out! We should be back to our regularly scheduled programming next week, and thanks to everyone who wished me well for my wedding. You guys are awesome. Enjoy!

-Kurokami

***********

Immediately after Amy had finished pulling on her new- revealing, vaguely uncomfortable- clothes, the door to her cell slid open and Sander swept inside. Amy glared at him, wondering just how long he had been waiting outside.

'Seriously, what is it with you and the shorts?' She deadpanned, gesturing up and down his casual attire.

He shrugged, 'They're comfortable. Besides, I'm basically on vacation,' He gestured to himself. 'Did you not see the sunglasses? I wear sunglasses now. Sunglasses are cool.'

'Oh, good lord...' Amy sighed.

'Listen, as fun as all this is,' Mara, now clothed, yawned. 'Isn't there a bunch of other things...?'

'Just one more, today. Mara, I need you to attend to some stuff. You think you can deal with the charging system for a bit? I'd like to be ready to go right away.'

'Sure thing, Hackett. Have fun. Amy, remember to act suitably impressed,' Mara waved as she left the room. 'He likes it when people do that.'

Sander waited silently until she was gone, then clapped his hands together, 'Ah, I love that woman! Anyway, time to go, Pond. I've something to show you.'

Amy frowned, 'Haven't I seen enough of you? Believe me, I've seen plenty!'

'No, not like that, Miss One-track-mind!' Sander grinned and grabbed her hand. 'Time to go see my baby, I'm thinking!'

Without waiting for her to respond, Sander tugged Amy out the door and back into the central plaza. He dragged her around to an immense door that seemed to project a field of pure heaviness. It seemed impossible that anything could possibly open something that utterly dense. Most doors are built to let people through them. This one was built to keep everything out.

It opened very easily when Sander pushed a hand against the nearby fingerprint scanner.

'There's nothing in here,' Amy said flatly as she was pushed inside the large, metal-shod room beyond, lit with brilliant white light from every corner.

'That's very true,' Sander nodded. 'Jericho!'

'I am here. Voice print accepted,' The A.I's voice suffused the room. 'Initiating descent.'

The floor shuddered, and with a rumble the floor began to drop into the ground. Sander nodded in satisfaction, and turned to Amy, 'Well, what do you think?'

'I think it's an elevator,' Amy shrugged flatly.

'Yes,' Sander said. 'It is an elevator that only goes to one place. To the core of the moon.'

'What? Why?'

Sander grinned as the elevator increased speed, 'You know, when we came here, Trismestigius was completely hollow. There's only seven feet of surface crust, then a giant void, which I figure is just storage space. It's one of those oddities of physics you get in a universe as large as this one.'

'I take it that there's something down there now,' Amy said flatly. 'Given that there's a lift.'

Sander's smile turned a little bit evil. Amy took a step back.

'You know, there are some pretty solid inertial stabilizers in this room,' He said to no one in particular. 'Actually, we're dropping at a startling speed. And we can't even feel it.'

As if to demonstrate his point, the elevator stopped abruptly, the door sliding open with a small beep. Jericho's voice drifted into being again, 'Welcome to the core center, Miss Pond. While you are here, your actions will be monitored closely. Any attempts to cause damage to this facility or to Master Hackett will be rebuffed using nonlethal, yet permanent, means. I hope that you will not cause me to do this, and that you enjoy your stay in the core. Have a nice day!'

Sander laughed at the odd look Amy gave him, 'He's a smart A.I, but some things are hardwired.'

'He's rather polite, for a program. Especially one that you created,' Amy said.

'I didn't create him. He's not even entirely based on my mind,' Sander tapped the side of his head. 'Some of the base personality traits are mine, but there's much more to Jericho than just me.'

'What does that mean?'

'You'll see. Now, I'd ask that you don't touch anything in this place,' Sander said, leading her out of the lift. 'These things are designed to manipulate time, if you touch the wrong thing your hand could suddenly end up forty years into the future.'

'Could that... Are you joking, or is that a distinct possibility?' Amy quavered.

'Don't touch anything, Amy Pond,' Sander lilted back, feet light as he leaped out into the corridor.

It was nothing more than a glass tube running straight ahead. Beyond the glass, a chaotic array of machines whirred with an impossible life of their own. Merely looking at it strained Amy's eyes, but there was nowhere to look for respite. All around her, the titanic device accomplished whatever evil purpose Sander had set it to. Something like this... There was no way it was a good machine.

Eventually, suddenly, the hallway simply dropped away, leaving the two of them on a steel walkway hanging over a long drop. Sander continued walking undaunted, but Amy hesitated, stunned at the sheer scale of the chamber she found herself in. It was roughly circular, curving walls made from a complex network of pipes, cables and metal plates. Lights blinked on and off at random along the surface of the walls, and if Amy concentrated she could just about see the floor of the mechanical cavern a long, long way down. She kept walking, if only because she didn't want Sander to command her to.

A pillar rose out from the floor at the centre of this chamber, marking the termination point of the hanging walkway. Amy was relieved to have solid ground under her feet again, but this feeling was only momentary; Sander skipped forward with an absent expression that turned gleeful as he reached a raised dais that glowed as he stepped onto it.

'We call it the Eternity Engine,' Sander said darkly. 'My baby. My masterpiece. With it, I can finally finish this. I can hurt the Doctor as much as he's hurt me.'

'What does it do?' Amy asked, in a voice that was barely there. She noted, at the periphery of her awareness, that for a chamber surrounded by running machinery, it was awfully, unsettlingly quiet. So, this was Sander's "baby"?

'It's a dimensional scalpel, if you don't want to get technical,' Sander turned to Amy as the platform below him glowed with a soft, blue-green light. 'I can use it to sort of... shape a charge out of a parallel universe and use it as a blade to cut into this one. Of course, that's just an analogy, the reality is far more complicated, but you said it yourself: Time can be rewritten.'

'I don't understand!' Amy's hands clenched into fists, the anger rose higher. 'You brought me all the way down here... Kidnapped me again! Tell me what it does, if you're showing off, you sick fuck!'

'I'm taking away the Doctor's toys,' Sander growled coldly. 'If he's just going to rescue his friends when I take them, then I have to make it so that he never had any to begin with. That's what the Engine does, Amy. It cuts people out of time, tears their timelines out of the universe and sends them here, to this place, while leaving the results of their actions intact. I get some new playthings, and the Doctor gets to be lonely forever. As befits his station as judge, jury and executioner,' The last words came out as a wrathful snarl as the old, terrifying Sander that surfaced the last time Amy had seen him bubbled back up to the surface.

'What? That doesn't make sense,' Amy protested, her curiosity outweighing even her mounting horror at the scope of Sander's new plan. 'How can you just pick people out of time and kidnap them? That's a paradox, if they aren't there to do things that they need to.'

Sander shrugged, 'I know. Time isn't easy, Amy. It's all a bit... Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey... I don't know exactly what's wrong with this universe, but we can get away with just about anything we want, assuming we use enough big science words.'

'What?'

' "Any technology that is suitably advanced is indistinguishable from magic," ' Sander said, his eyes closed. 'I think that was Arthur C. Clarke. And it's certainly an apt description of the universe we live in. But that's just a distraction. Come now, watch me show off.'

Amy had to admit a certain horrified fascination as Sander rubbed his hands together before spreading his arms parallel to his body, 'Jericho, hit it.'

A small spotlight hit Sander's right arm, lingering for a moment before sweeping to his left leg, then back up to his right eye. Jericho's voice resounded through the chamber, 'Scan complete; All identification keys present and accounted for. Identity confirmed: Welcome, Sander Hackett. System activation in three, two, one... Initialize.'

Light poured out from the dais below Sander, sweeping up around him like a physical force. Like luminous water. In moments, he was surrounded by a globe of soft blue light that pulsed in time with his movements. The tips of his fingers trailed through the glow, and a smile spread slowly across his features; these were the moments he lived for.

'Open previous temporal pathway; filename, Doctor,' Multicolored strands of light infused the larger globe, each one terminating in an image of a person; Amy recognized multiple companions from the Doctor's past, as well as Rory and herself. Sander nodded, 'Okay. Let's compile a new capture list. We'll start with the obvious...'

Sander swept his hands along the bright trails of illumination, gripping certain strands and compacting them, placing them into a cube of light set at his side. He talked to himself as he worked, 'Rose Tyler... Martha Jones... Can't do Donna Noble, since she's a little... complicated. River Song is freaking hard, can't even touch her. Oh, but there are others I can catch: Lady Christina de Souza... But let's not limit ourselves here, eh, Amy? Those two Torchwood women, Gwen Cooper and Toshiko Sato. And there are others that the Doctor's had a soft spot for, say... Madame de Pompadour, and... Ah! Yes! That little clone-form daughter of his! Yes.'

Sander's speech became increasingly inaudible until he was basically murmuring to himself, hands moving through the holographic array. A panoply of color and light slid across the globe, a chaotic storm of life with Sander at its heart; it would have been beautiful, if Amy could have forgotten what purpose it was being put to.

After several minutes of hushed chatter and chaotic lightshow, all movement ceased, and the light hung there in the utter, silent stillness. Sander's hands fell to his side, and a heavy sigh of satisfaction left his throat.

'Okay, Jericho. Use the shuffle function, then begin the excision procedure,' The hologram died, and Sander leapt down from the platform, gesturing past Amy to a point at the far wall. 'See, I'm letting Jericho surprise me, since right now I don't really give a crap who we get first. It takes a while to lock down a target and 'port them over, but someday soon we'll have a new playmate. Isn't that fun!'

Silently, Amy followed Sander's gesturing to a little platform inset at a point midway up the sloping curvature of the chamber. It hosted a single, glass-canopied medical gurney set on some sort of rail system, being fed by a number of thick blue cables issuing from a hole in the wall. As she stared, Amy could see the small chamber slowly being filled by a sparkling orange light that slowly resolved itself into the shape of a person.

'I wonder who we'll get,' Sander laid a hand on Amy's shoulder and tilted his head to one side. 'Don't worry, though. We'll give the two of you plenty of opportunity to get intimately acquainted. Now then, one more thing we need to do, and then you can cool your heels back in your cell. Come along, Pond.'

Again, she was led out to the elevator, and back up to the ground floor. This time, Sander took her around behind the cells, through another solid-looking door and into a wide, featureless room with a hook seemingly molded out of the ceiling itself. Amy looked upon that hook with trepidation; it was easy to imagine what use that thing could be put to.

Predictably, Sander retrieved a set of sturdy looking cuffs from his pocket and, without waiting for Amy to present her wrists, guided her hands roughly into them.

'So, what's it going to be this time, eh?' Amy challenged. 'Tie me up and fuck me, hmm? Force me to blow you? Oh, I know! Just spank the hell out of me until I beg you to stop! Good god, you're pathetic, Sander. Three years and you haven't-'

Sander clicked his fingers. On cue, the cuffs encircling Amy's wrists flung themselves backwards, some unseen force driving them- and Amy with them- up into the air until the harsh metal clanged against the ceiling hook and stuck there. Now dangling about a foot off the ground, Amy's legs kicked helplessly as she cried out in incoherent discomfort; the weight on her shoulders was unbearable.

Sander watched her squirm for a while, grinning at her as that fiery spirit he loved so much was punished. He hoped that, rather than breaking her, this show of force would make her angrier; make her resist even more fervently, increase the challenge. Finally, he spoke, 'Don't give me ideas, Amy. Because now I'll be doing all three of those things to you very soon, quite possibly in rapid sequence. That's your punishment for speaking out of turn, slave. But as for right now... You'll have a new friend coming to see you. She's a good friend of mine, so you make sure you treat her with the proper respect, okay?'

He nodded to a camera linked to a corner of the room. Slowly, Amy found herself lowered back to the floor, her cuffs encircled in a faint corona of pink light. She found that this acted much like an invisible chain; keeping her rooted to the spot and giving her practically no yield or room to move. Sander eyed her coldly.

'Your restraints work via magnetism. I've been kind enough to allow your feet to touch the ground. If you anger your new mistress, there's a very good chance she won't be as forgiving. She wanted you clothed, like this, so I suppose she wants the pleasure of stripping you herself... Watching the helpless fear in your eyes as...' He shook his head, 'No, I won't get distracted. Anyway, have fun, Amy! I'm sure my associate can force you to, anyway! The things she can do to your body, you wouldn't believe it.'

And he left. Leaving Amy alone with the slowly growing ball of dread in the pit of her stomach. Someone else? Someone new? As if Sander and Mara weren't bad enough, she was going to be raped by another stranger; and worse, another woman. It had been hard enough to suppress her disgust whenever Mara touched her.

Besides all that, what tastes did this newcomer need to sate with Amy's flesh? "The things she can do to your body"? What the hell did that mean? What was going to happen?

And these damn cuffs! They produced a vaguely electrical tingling up and down her forearms, which, coupled with the sheer strangeness of her mostly invisible bonds, gave Amy the worst feeling of vulnerability. Everything in this scenario had been specifically calculated to cause her the greatest amount of psychological distress, she knew it.

But there were footsteps in the hallway outside; the light scuff of sneakers on the hard metal surface. Whoever she was, she was almost here. Her shadow stretched across the open doorway.

'Amy-hime...' The lengthy, lilting sound stretched itself into her cell and wrapped around her heart like a vise. It wouldn't be worth struggling, but Amy did so anyway, pulling desperately at her bonds. It was a futile effort; even if she somehow got loose, the only exit was out into the hallway, where she would run right into her would-be tormentor.

'Okay! I'm sufficiently freaked out!' Amy called, hoping to keep the pleading tone out of her voice, and failing. 'Who are you?'

The woman filled the doorway, a vicious, killer's grin on her face. She stepped into the room, and Amy's panicked gaze tried cataloguing her every detail, in the hopes of somehow making this new foe a known quantity, and hence less inherently frightening.

She was a tall woman, and her baggy black hoodie and jeans failed to hide her lithe, measured movements. Every step seemed somehow calculated, as though at any moment this stranger could leap down Amy's throat and tear her to shreds. She carried herself with a predatory, superior air; she could probably kill anything alive in this room, and she knew it.

She had blonde hair, cut short around her face and down to the nape of her neck, where she kept it tied up in a loose knot. She had an elegant, powerful face, with a mouth that twisted in a series of wry, dangerous contortions close to a grin. Each time her full lips parted, Amy could see the neat row of white, pearlescent teeth glinting in the cold artificial light.

Amy could see the swagger in her walk as she drew closer, that self-assured confidence projecting itself through her every movement. Her hands were nestled deep in the recesses of her pockets, elbows stuck out away from her body, as if she was puffing herself out. With every step, her heavy black boots tapped a loud rhythm; heel and toe, heel and toe. To Amy, it was akin to standing before a noose, with the hangman's footsteps the last thing she'd ever hear.

She stopped, before Amy's prostrate form, feet set widely apart, and regarded her with a flat stare, a sharp grin and a raised eyebrow. One hand emerged from her pockets to rub the back of her neck, her eyes trailing up the bound form before her; her gaze turned appraising, almost hungry. Amy had the sense that she was being weighed up and tested. It wasn't a feeling she was entirely at home with.

But all that fell to the wayside when Amy first took eye contact with this stranger, and never stopped.

These were eyes to trap you. Wickedly intelligent, huntress' eyes. Beautiful, stunning, incredibly clear, dangerous eyes.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 03



They were mismatched.

Her left eye was a sparkling, clear blue; her right eye a deep, dark red. Both reflected the predatory mind beyond them, and both sustained Amy's frightened, spellbound gaze for as long as she kept looking.

'Me?' The woman said, in the same rough, bloodied voice as before. 'I'm Ren. I'm your new best friend, for right now. It's nice to meet you, Amy-hime.'

'O-okay,' Amy nodded. 'Ren. Listen, you don't have to do this. Sander's-'

'My friend,' Ren cut in. 'And I sort of think I do need to do this, Amy-hime,' Her eyes swept Amy's body, which had been drawn taut by her cuffs and the general tightness of the clothes Mara had provided. 'I can see why San-chan likes you so much, you're fuckin' gorgeous!'

'San-chan?'

'Sander, to you,' Ren shrugged. 'Nomenclature difference, I think. I got into the habit of speaking Japanese a while back, and... Well, some things stuck. But that's beside the point, pretty girl. You and I? We're about to have a little fun.'

'Please...'

Ren frowned, clucked her tongue, 'Oh, don't beg just yet! Give me some time! I'll make you beg, eventually! No need to jump the gun, kid. Patience.'

'I don't understand,' Amy shook her head. 'Where does Sander keep finding you people? Why are there so many psychopaths in the future?'

'Oh, I just got an invitation from my Imouto-chan,' Ren shrugged. 'I guess these guys needed a bit of help keeping this place up and running. It's a whole moon, Amy-hime. But that's beside the point. Jericho!'

'Yes, Miss Ren?'

'Defabricator.'

'Yes, Miss Ren.'

A portion of the far wall opened up, revealing a tiny aperture that gave a low hum as electricity flooded through it. Amy barely had time to start struggling again before a beam of light hit her in the chest, leaving a slowly expanding ring of bare skin in its wake. The significance of the word "defabricator" quickly became obvious; Amy was quickly naked again.

'See, isn't the future way more fun than your own time period?' Ren grinned, and the expression made it look like she was about to take a bite out of Amy. She tilted her head, 'Damn. I am going to enjoy playing with you!'

As Amy whimpered and squirmed, Ren circled her, like a shark circles a baby seal. Those mismatched eyes drank in every inch of flawless skin and graceful curves. With her hands bound above her head, Amy's body was forced to bow forward as she stood on the tips of her toes. Ren's fingers traced down the delicate skin at her spine, causing a tremor to run through the helpless girl.

'Please don't do this...' Amy hissed, eyes closed and body taut.

'Nah,' Ren laughed. 'I really want to. Besides, there's so much I want to show you... See, I used to do some work that was... Hmm, of dubious legality. A part of that was, oh, I don't want to say torture, because that ain't right. But I did have to know a few things about the human body. And I had to be good... Halves like me don't really get anywhere just by being average.'

'What?'

Ren stopped in front of Amy, head cocked to one side with a confused frown on her face, 'Oh, come now!' She pointed at her right eye, 'Surely you've noticed! I'm not entirely human, me. I'm... half, on a lot of different counts.'

For a moment, Ren's self-assured confidence seemed to completely slip away. Her eyes clouded up with frustration, her grin dropped away into a frown, and her shoulders slumped in something approaching defeat. It was a momentary lapse, but it had definitely happened.

And it was quickly over, replaced by something even worse. Eyes sparkling meanly, Ren sidled over to Amy, one hand reaching up to entwine through her hair; she pulled down, slowly raising Amy's head until she was almost looking at the ceiling.

'Like I said, I'm good at what I do, Amy-hime. I can't wait to show you...' Ren nuzzled Amy's neck, licking the length of her throat. She sighed deeply, 'Yeah, we're gonna have fun together. I mean, do you know just how vulnerable the human body is to something as innocent as tickling?'

Amy flinched and shuddered as Ren ran a finger down the underside of her arm, from elbow to armpit. There was something wrong with her captor's skin; it was altogether too soft and light, somehow able to produce the most terrible, teasing sensations with but a single touch. Amy felt herself whimpering as the action was repeated and every muscle in her arm tensed in an attempt to avoid Ren's touch.

'See, I'm only half human,' Ren whispered in Amy's ear, hot breath only tickling her further. 'My looks are mostly human, which is nice... But my body composition is a little different. Nerve conductivity is odd... I can't even be tickled myself. I have no idea what this feels like. But I've been told that the texture of my skin's different too, and I've found it's highly effective at this kind of thing.'

Her other hand joined in, stroking down Amy's other arm. The sensations Ren's fingers produced were maddening, feather soft and light as air, not quite a proper tickling motion and, unsettlingly, not at all unpleasant. Amy's mouth opened, tried to find the words that would make Ren stop. But as Ren's fingers traced her arms in alternating up and down strokes, any coherency she might have had was torn from her mind, leaving Amy with nothing but a pathetic whine.

Those addictive fingers travelled down Amy's vulnerable body, making her arms buck uselessly against the unyielding restraints. Ren moved around behind her captive, pressing herself against Amy's back, the harsh, flat weight of her chest pressing against her. Her arms encircled Amy, wiry muscles so strong it was impossible to struggle, fingers skating oh so lightly across the bare skin of her stomach; Amy's skin crawled with irritation, revulsion and, strangely, pleasure. What was going on here?

'Hmm?' Ren breathed, so close to Amy's ear, noticing the softest, barely audible moan issue from her captive. 'You like that?'

Amy grunted as Ren's thumb ringed her navel, 'N-no! But seriously... S-stop...' Every word was labored, her lungs seemingly under incredible pressure from those insane, incredible fingers.

'I wouldn't do that to you...' Ren sang, her hands slowly moving upward. 'Not until I've shown you what I can really do.'

Amy shook her head, mewling desperately. It was easy to see what was coming; she twisted in Ren's arms, trying to dislodge her jailer before...

'Ah!' She cried out at the first contact between Ren's digits and the undersides of her breasts. Inexorably, as she trembled, those awful fingers slid up to caress her tits, trailing lightly across the undersides before heading up to circle her nipples. Every nerve sang as Ren stroked her fingers gently over Amy's nipples, giggling as they hardened under her tender ministrations.

Each touch sent bolts of electricity through Amy's skin, flushes of blood rushing to her sensitive breasts. Her chest quickly began burning red under Ren's insistent, playful caresses.

'S-stop! Please Ren, don't tease me like this!'

'Oh, so you do like it?' Ren kissed her on the cheek, terminating with a cheeky flick of the tongue. 'Most women do, after a while. So am I getting you wet, Amy-hime? Is this turning you on? It certainly looks like it, from the way you've been moaning...'

'No! Just stop it!' Amy gabbled. The awful truth was, what Ren was doing was unbearable, and it was brewing a terrible heat deep in the pit of her stomach. Every stroke, every caress, every poke or prod sent further ripples of pleasure deep into her core and, despite herself, with her mind screaming for it to stop... She was getting wet.

She didn't know why; it was something in the silken, tremor-inducing qualities of Ren's skin as it glided across her own. Frankly, and despite the fact that it was truly humiliating to admit, she was surprised that she wasn't literally dripping, at this stage.

'Oh no! No, no, please!' She begged breathlessly as Ren's hand started stroking back down her stomach, wrenching the air from her lungs as it travelled ever downwards. She was going to touch her. She was going to touch her between the legs and when she did she wouldn't just find Amy wet, she would find her melting, body and soul; that's what those talented, alien fingers did. With a single finger against her clit, Ren could turn Amy into a moaning fool.

'You're begging me to stop, but that's not what your body is saying,' Ren chided playfully. 'You're so reactive, your flesh is begging for more. It seems like you're confused, so here's what I'll do for you. I'm going to slide my finger inside you, to check if I've got you wet. If you really want me to stop, you won't enjoy that. You certainly won't moan,' She punctuated each example with a soft poke, just above Amy's hips. 'Or squeal, or shudder, or grind your hips against my hand. If you can stop yourself from doing any of those things, if you really aren't enjoying this like a good little slut, then I'll leave you alone. I promise.'

Although in context Ren's promises meant precisely nothing, it wasn't as if she was going to be denied. Every second of physical contact was torture as Ren's fingers slid lower, eventually reaching the juncture of her legs. She rubbed slowly at Amy's outer lips, causing a thrum of the deepest pleasure within her. Then her index finger curved inwards, sliding deliciously, gently, into the captive's soaking cunt.

Amy squealed. As the finger inside her moved, Amy moaned. In seconds, she was grinding herself against Ren's probing touch with desperate fervor. She couldn't help it; whatever difference Ren's skin had, every motion of it inside her sent arcing bolts of pure, unadulterated ecstasy burning through her. Her pussy quivered and shook around the invasive finger with a new gush of warm, sticky juices. Amy's face flushed bright red as she felt her own body betray her so completely that she wanted nothing else than to fuck herself on Ren's fingers until she came.

But her captor was too good for that. With a laugh that was thick with her own arousal, Ren withdrew her heavenly digit from Amy's sopping hole and waved it in front of her face, 'Oh my, Amy-hime! You're positively dripping, girl! Just like a good whore should be, in the presence of her Master.'

'You... You aren't my-' Amy panted, suddenly light-headed and lacking oxygen. She must be more flustered than she realized.

'I am your Master, slut,' Ren growled. 'One of them, anyway. Mara-chi's another. And San-chan is your Master. The big one. Remember that. You escaped once. This time, you're here forever. Get used to it.'

Amy sobbed, a confusing combination of shame, despair and lust clouding her mind so completely, she could do little but hang in her chains with tears dripping down her cheeks and wait for the next assault to begin. Her heart thudded powerfully in her chest, the blood flooding hotly into her face and chest, flushing both bright red.

Ren stroked her across her sodden outer lips again, playing her fingers through her light fuzz of red pubic hair. Amy could feel those mercurial eyes locked on her face, though she refused to meet them with her own gaze. Her legs twitched and trembled, almost refusing to stay beneath her as those soft, infuriating fingers caressed her most sensitive of places. Through the thumping haze of heat, Amy could feel Ren's other hand toy with her breasts, her nipples unbearably enflamed.

She quickly discovered that it wasn't only Ren's fingers capable of producing such sensations; she shuddered as a pair of soft lips sucked hard at her neck, replete with a quick nip of her teeth. The next bite was more noticeable, and forceful enough to make Amy cry out in shock and discomfort.

'Damn!' Ren growled. 'It's moments like this one that make me wish I had a dick, so's I could just fuck the hell out of ya! Mm, pity...'

It was then, as Ren slid three fingers back into Amy's pussy and began fucking her in earnest, that she noticed that Ren's other hand had disappeared from her chest. Her breathing, still so close to Amy's ear, fluttered in her throat, coming out closer to a pant than an actual exhalation. Amy's gaze slid lower; Ren's free hand was deep within her pants, wrist shaking as she fingered herself.

'You gonna cum for me, slut?' Ren snarled in Amy's ear, the menace slightly ruined by the pleasured gasp that followed. 'I want to see that. Yeah... Uh!' She gasped again.

Amy gabbled a series of breathless, pleading words, eyes screwed shut as Ren played her like an instrument. Her hips swayed and bucked violently against the intrusive hand as it probed her, stretched her, found the places inside her that produced the most pleasure, and scraped against them mercilessly. Her captor strummed her clit with wicked precision, and hot, molten bliss boiled up through Amy's entire body.

Ren snarled, deep in her throat; her hand and the crotch of her jeans was slick with her own juices, even as her other hand was coated in Amy's. She groaned with bestial, fiery arousal, glaring at Amy with eyes that signaled just how close to her own orgasm she was getting. Her fingers slid into Amy with increasing force, her motions becoming hotter, more insistent. It was clear what was going on; she wanted Amy to cum with her, simultaneously, and she wanted her to know it was happening.   

'Oh, come on!' Amy whimpered, bottom lip trembling as her insides turned gooey and she edged ever closer to the precipice of orgasm. Though she fought against it, she could tell that it was as inevitable as a hurricane in a trailer park; the thought filled her with dread and, in some deeply buried, animalistic part of herself, anticipation.

'That's the idea,' Ren panted, fucking herself frantically below the waistband of her jeans. The room was filled with the low, quiet, wet sucking sounds of the two women's arousal and the increasing rapidity of Ren's fingering. 'Come on, Amy-h... hime. I'm gettin' real close myself... Cum for me, bitch.'

Amy's spirits sank further, if that were possible. It was going to happen; the closeness of the other woman, with the heat of her body, the harsh pressure of her muscles pressing against her shackled form and the scent of their arousal thick in her nose, practically assured this. Her pussy was little more than a mess of glistening syrup, distended lips and unbearably fizzing clit. The burning of her unwanted arousal was so present in her mind, filling her with shame that her body could be so easily controlled, so easily bent to the will of another, a complete stranger.

'Cum, Amy... Cum now!'

Ren drove her hands deeply into both cunts simultaneously, brushing her thumbs across her own clit and that of her slave. As one, the women bucked against the intrusive fingers with a pair of grunts that mingled in the air, the overture to a symphony of sexual climax. Ren was extremely talented; they came together.

It was the order that finally pushed Amy over the edge; the final topper of humiliation that sent her tumbling over the precipice. Her pussy flooded anew as ecstasy exploded through her slender frame, washing over her in waves. Behind her, with a strong arm wrapped around her midsection, Ren shuddered in her own climax, biting down hard on Amy's shoulder. A rough, growling moan tore its way through her teeth.

The redheaded captive let out a high, reedy whimper as she came, her legs shaking and then finally giving out as the sheer power of her forced orgasm swept all the strength out of her. She hung in her chains, moaning incoherently as climax ripped through her, wracking her body with tremors. Behind her, even Ren was having trouble staying on her feet. She staggered, just a bit, and the hand down her pants trembled.

For a while after their shared orgasm, the silence was only broken by heavy panting as the two women clung to each other, muscles aching and skin shining with sweat. Slowly, Ren started laughing; a rich, deep guffaw that seemed to reverberate through Amy's vulnerable, exhausted body. She stroked Amy's hair, but the touch had an odd, mocking tone.

'Wow... That was hot,' She grinned, draping herself over Amy's bare shoulders.

'Agreed!' Sander applauded, just a little, as he rounded the doorframe. 'Whew, Ren! What a show!'

In the space of a single second, Ren separated herself from Amy and began roughly fumbling with the zipper of her jeans. She quickly straightened up her clothes, though the noticeable damp patch detracted slightly from the look she was going for. She blushed, which was rare, and scowled at Sander, which was not.

'Shut up, San-chan,' She snapped. 'I don't recall inviting you to this party.'

Sander frowned. He liked Ren a lot, but she got so defensive if he expressed any appreciation for her looks. She was extremely beautiful, in a strong, dangerous way, but she was also rather genderqueer, in the final analysis. She was sort of stuck in a nowhere place, when it came to her sex.

Yes, Ren wore men's clothes almost exclusively. Yes, Ren bound her breasts and walked with a marked lack of swing in her hips. Yes, Ren favored a pair of boots that could probably crack Sander's skull in a single kick. And yes, Ren bounced between outright disdain for men and a remarkably attractive form of aggression. But Sander had seen her in a feminine mode... She could be stunning, when she wanted to be. Even all rough and ready, as she was now, Sander couldn't deny a certain magnificence in her stark, honest features and demeanor.

'Or maybe you didn't need an invite,' Ren continued while Sander was lost in thought. 'Maybe you couldn't stop thinking about me and her,' She jerked a thumb back at Amy, mismatched eyes flashing dangerously. 'What do you say, San-chan? You wanna fuck me, then her? Oh... I guess you can't, though. Since I don't think my little sister would approve... Although Mara-chi is a bit freaky... Who knows, right?'

Amy watched in silence, allowing her body to recover. But one thought, one piece of information, stuck in her mind before forcing its way down to her throat, 'Little sister?!'

'I'm Ren Syfte, Amy-hime!' She grinned, patting Sander on the shoulder and disengaging from him. 'Mara-chi is my Imouto: my little sister! Fun, huh?'

'And she's a bit terrifying...' Sander mumbled, blinking. 'Um, anyway... I think all this is enough, for one day. Jericho, you got the imprint in the Refabricator?'

'Yes, sir,' Jericho affirmed. 'Execut-...' The lights dimmed, and a warning tone sounded. 'Error-or... Sta-St-Status: C-c-critical. Status: Critical. Emergency code: Marduk...'

For a moment, the lights stayed low and the room was filled with a high-pitched warning klaxon. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped; the lights came back on, and silence reigned.

'System restored. Apologies for the delay,' Jericho's smooth tones returned.

'Again?' Ren exclaimed. 'What the fuck, San-chan?'

'What's code Marduk?' Sander said to nobody in particular. 'We don't have a... Jericho, what's code Marduk?'

'No such code appears in my internal registry,' Jericho answered quickly. 'Request more information, sir?'

'You just lapsed into an emergency code Marduk, Jericho. Check your memory.'

'No such code exists in any internal registry. Please input a new request, if I can be of service, or activate my Retire command if you wish to switch me off.'

'San-chan, what-'

'I don't know,' Sander sighed with a shrug. 'I'll ask Kanaria about it. She's supposed to know about this stuff...'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 03



'You do that. I'll take Amy-hime back to her cell, yeah?' Ren yawned, tapping her foot lightly on the hard metal below. 'Jericho, if you're done with your freak out, could you Refabricate the last pattern?'

'Executing...'

*******************************

The system administrator's office was situated underground, close to the A.I core. It was a bare room, the kind a person came to work in, and nothing more. The opposite wall to the door played host to a single, immense rack of hardware; a complex network of cables, power outlets and screens running impossibly intricate strings of code.

A high-backed, swiveling office chair faced towards this wall, a pair of legs swung over one armrest. From the depths of the chair came the sounds of a keyboard in use.

'Kana?' Sander rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

'Yes, Sander?' Kanaria's distracted tones flitted out from over the back of the chair. One foot began a rhythmic bobbing motion over the armrest.

'We had another error code. The same one. Any progress?'

There was a heavy sigh, the legs swung to one side and pushed off from the wall hard enough to swivel the chair completely around. Kanaria perched herself on the edge of the cool black leather; today she was wearing one of her seemingly endless supply of sundresses, a rather fetching yellow number, and her thin silver reading glasses were balanced high on the bridge of her nose. She tossed her long black hair to one side with another sigh of irritation.

'Sander, I'm doing the best I can, okay? But it's hard. Aside from the fact that Jericho doesn't even recognize this Marduk code as a thing, the equipment you've given me is a joke,' Kanaria frowned. 'This is an A.I, dude, not a freaking iMac. I need some new linkup cables. High-yield, diamond tipped, gold filament cables.'

'You know, you change when you're in front of a computer, Kanaria,' Sander cocked his head to one side. He was under the impression that it was physically impossible for Kanaria to frown, unless she had a keyboard in her lap. It wasn't that the work even pissed her off that much, she just went into business mode, or something.

'Nanofiber cables, Sander. Are you just noticing this? A set of new core-boards and an image-feedback system would also make things so much easier,' Kanaria stood, arched an eyebrow and took a step towards Sander. 'And when do I get to visit Amy? Ren should be done with her by now, right?'

Sander laughed, put a hand on Kanaria's head to tousle her hair. For the first time, the usual sweet, friendly young woman came to the fore, and she blushed and refused to meet his gaze.

'Kana! I didn't even know you wanted to! You're always so... so... um,' Sander didn't actually know how that sentence should end. "Virginal," seemed the most accurate word, but he didn't want to actually say it.

'Yes. I am very um. But I'm also... interested, y'know? I should get a shot if everyone else does...' She trailed off, her blush only deepening. Sander was astounded; she had only taken three steps from her computer, and look at the difference!

'Of course you should,' Sander said reassuringly. 'Say no more. Not today, she's probably a bit tired. Tomorrow okay with you?'

Kanaria leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, and it was Sander's turn to blush. Did she actually plan how she acted, or was she really just that cute? She gave him a bright smile, 'Thanks, Sander. You're the best. I'll see what I can do about this Marduk thing in the meantime. Did you want anything else?'

Sander tried hard to push down on the implications of "anything else," and stuttered just a little when he spoke, 'No no, that's all. Just... I don't know, keep track of the time tonight? I don't mind if you work through the night, but I'm sure Mara would like to see her little sister once in a while.'

'Yes, Sander,' Kanaria lilted dutifully, returning to her chair. She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, 'And remember: new cables!'

'Yes, Kanaria,' Sander echoed with a laugh as he left the room. 'You Syfte women, I swear...'

His voice faded out the further away he got. For a moment, the administrator's office was silent but for Kanaria's rapid typing. Then, she giggled to herself, took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes, 'Oh, he's funny...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 04



Author's Note: This is the sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Okay, so this is chapter four, which we're calling the Kanaria chapter! We tried something a little different here, and it turned out to be hell to write, but I guess that's what we get for trying new things...

As always, thanks go to my lovely wife Isabel for her assistance, and persistence, on the creative side of this thing, and to Allyourbase, who gave us some feedback and suggestions that really improved this chapter from the shambles it was when I finished writing it the first time. That said, we'll certainly think hard about how we're going to use Kanaria in the future; she's not as easy to write as Ren is.

Any feedback, comments or votes are hugely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the story!

-Kurokami

************

'All in all, Viral came through for us rather comprehensively.'

'It did. I'm quite pleased, myself. I would have thought we'd have more trouble.'

'As did I, sir.'

'Sir?'

'That's you, sir. Until the end of this job. I think we all go our separate ways, after that. You can lead us to Hackett, but after that... Well, we know who you are, sir. Most of us don't like the idea of working with you any more than we do working for Hackett. Ends and means, I suppose.'

'That's very honest. Still, I can't blame you. I'm just using you too, you know. At any rate, the system intrusion has gone perfectly. Viral does good work. Now we just wait, and see what happens.'

'Yes, sir. I do have one question, though: why do you want to find Sander Hackett?'

'Me? Hmm... Well, um. Honestly? I haven't been able to get him out of my head. I want to show him how I feel.'

**************************************

It was night now. Trismestigius had retreated behind the bulk of Sigma Majora, obscured from the light of the binary stars that served as the sun in this particular system. Amy was back in her cell, frankly glad to be left alone after the events of the afternoon. Everyone had retreated from the common areas back to their rooms; Kanaria had been unable to solve the Marduk issue, and various other parties had lobbied Sander for the next shot at Amy. In the depths of the complex, the Eternity Engine continued to work, the next captive slowly accruing reality. 

Sander and Mara had retreated to their room. That is to say, Mara had dragged Sander back to their room with some force. She happened to do that a lot; Sander didn't mind. He liked a forceful, take-charge Mara. It had defined the early days of their relationship, in a way.

Now, he lay on their large, comfortable bed, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't frowning, exactly; he found it exceedingly hard to do that in Mara's presence, but he was deep in thought. He shifted uncomfortably, and his mouth opened.

'So, Kanaria asked me for the next shot at Amy, you know?' He said, chewing absently on his lip. 'I didn't think she'd be up for that... Do we need to set up, like, a rotation, or something? I mean, there are more of us, now.'

Mara lifted her head, a frown creasing her features, 'Seriously? Are we discussing this now? I mean, I am naked...' She propped herself up on her elbows, her body curled around Sander's legs, practically immobilizing him. Absently, she traced her index finger up the underside of Sander's rock-hard cock. He twitched, his hands pulling against the restraints attached to the headboard; forceful Mara hadn't stopped when they had entered the bedroom. Unbidden, Sander's eyes slid to the clock on the wall; she had been at this for over an hour... In truth, he'd been trying to distract himself.

With a playful smile, Mara swept her tongue around the head of Sander's dick, causing him to grunt loudly and buck his hips up to meet her mouth. Mara shook her head in response and pulled away.

'Oh, come on, Mara!' Sander eyed her helplessly, pulling uselessly on the cuffs encircling his wrists. 'Don't tease me like this...'

She gave a little giggle and ran her lips up and down the sides of his shaft in a series of blistering, sucking kisses, all set to a soundtrack of frustrated male groaning. It wasn't just the unbearable heat of her mouth causing him the trouble, but also all the subsets of sensation that demanded an equal share of his attention; the warm, pliant weight of her body against his, the delicate tickle of her hair against his legs, and the omnipresent frustration of her breath on his cock. She was doing all this on purpose, damn her.

'You know I'll just get you back for this later,' Sander growled. 'I can remember stuff like this.'

Mara gave him a challenging, wicked smile, 'I know! Counting on it, Hackett... Sounds fun.'

'You bitch...' He laughed despite himself. Mara laughed too, but in a vicious way, giving him a hard open-handed slap on the thigh. Her tongue lapped at him, from base to tip, and he gasped sharply, legs flexing and wrists pulling strongly at his bonds.

'Mara! Please let me cum, already!' Sander's eyes were practically crossing with the effort of bringing his dick into contact with Mara's lips. She had pulled herself back, away from his hardness, and contented herself with running teasing fingers up the insides of his thighs, stopping just before contact with that all important, aching heat.

'Ugh, fine! Just quit your bitching!' She grinned, delving down to engulf his heavy arousal in her soft, wet mouth. Sander growled with animal pleasure and bucked his hips upward, driving more and more of his length between her lips. Mara sucked with loving attention to detail, showing off her complete familiarity with her lover's body as she drew him into her talented mouth. 

After her extended teasing and denial, Mara's total commitment quickly brought Sander over the edge, and he bucked powerfully, his cum splashing over her tongue and filling her mouth. He groaned once as he relaxed, muscles flexing in pleasure as Mara's tongue swept the remnants of his seed from the head of his dick before she pulled away. She offered him a naughty smile, her throat pulsing as she swallowed his load and her lips smacked together.

She slithered up Sander's body, planting her mouth firmly over his own. His face flushed as he tasted himself on her tongue. After an extended, passionate kiss, she pulled away and shot him a reproachful glare, 'Happy now?'

'Yes,' Sander sighed contentedly. 'Yes I bloody well am.'

Mara exhaled and laid her head on the bare skin of his chest, 'Good, I suppose.' She closed her eyes and nestled in, entirely prepared to drift off to sleep. Sander frowned, waited for a moment, wondered if she would remember. Eventually, he had to protest.

'Hey, untie me before I have to wake you up?' He blew a gust of air into her face. Her eyes screwed shut, and she sighed.

'No. This way, you'll be right where I want you if I wake up in the night and want something to chew on.'

'Seriously, Mara. Release me.'

Her eyes snapped open again, and rolled in a put-upon manner, 'Fine. You know, you're awfully demanding, for a sub.'

'I'm a switch,' Sander said hotly.

'Yeah, tell that to the collar around your neck,' She kissed him on the cheek as she leaned over him to undo his chains. 'To answer your question, you don't need to think about who gets Amy when too much. It's easy: Dulsie gets her last, since she's a bit... intense. Lyssy is nothing if not patient, so that leaves two. And Kana asked you first.'

'Yeah. Yeah, you're right,' Sander nodded. 'That'll work.'

Mara's brow furrowed, 'Hey, are you okay? You've been a little off all night.'

'I'm fine,' Sander lied. 'Just a bit tired, I guess. Big day, in case you haven't noticed.'

In truth, he did feel somehow off. Mara quickly lost interest in the conversation and drifted off to sleep, but something in Sander's head prevented him from doing the same; some snag in his thought process, or dark little idea stirred up in the wake of the day's events. It was seeing Amy again that did it, bringing up all those emotions that had simmered under the surface for three years; he had almost been a normal person, for all that time. Almost.

But now... The companion was back in his clutches, the chase was back on, and he was attempting something that had never been done before. Building the infrastructure of Trismestigius, the Engine, the life support systems, all of that had been hectic, but it had been over for more than a year. All he'd had to do recently was build the software systems, install Jericho...

And suddenly everything was dangerous again. Suddenly, he was up against the Doctor. Suddenly, he had to be worried; had he gone too far? There was no possible way the Doctor would be forgiving, this time. If the Time Lord found him, there would be consequences. Only this time, he wasn't just endangering his life, or Mara's life; he was putting the lives of his friends at risk. He had warned them all, everyone knew what they were up against if they helped him, but even so, six other people had put their lives in his hands. Now he had set the wheels of this chase in motion, he was beginning to wonder: did he have the wherewithal to see it through to a victory?

Silently, he slipped out from Mara's unconscious embrace, out of his bed and to the window. The skyline was dominated with the immense, green-and-blue bulk of Sigma Majora. Stars filled the available space, free of any light pollution that would otherwise obscure them. The answer came to Sander, in that moment, with Mara behind him and the vast, empty Trismestigian horizon ahead: He would come out ahead, this time. He would win this fight. 

The thought had weight; it had heft, like an iron bar. It was unbendable; he simply had too much to lose, now. He had Mara, he had friends that depended on him, and he had this moon. He had a life now, and one that was worth defending, even if he had long ago set himself down a path that would lead him to risk it all, again and again. When he thought back...

Just three years ago, his life had changed- no, his life had begun, properly. He had spent thirteen years basically in purgatory, absorbed in his rage and his plots, locked away from the world; all because he had lost someone important to him. With Elsa gone, all the doors in his mind had slammed shut; he'd purposely shut out contact with anyone else. Mara had stuck with him, as loyal as anything, and tried to open him up again, but like an idiot he had ignored her. To him, she had just been an assistant; he'd often wondered what it must have been like for her, caring for him that much, when he himself had been cold as ice. 

Damn... He had been really stupid, back then...

But the whole of life is a learning experience. Sander Hackett had learned that he actually needed a life, not just revenge. Now he had one, and a second chance, at that, he wasn't willing to just drop it all at the behest of a murderer in a blue box. 

He smiled. It was Mara who had started this healing process within him, and her sisters and their new friends that had helped it along. And this place, this moon, was a perfect staging ground for that kind of growth. His old home had been a stifling steel box, hurtling through space aimlessly. This place, his home... It had windows, and a horizon, and air. It had an outside. It was a place to live, not just a prison. 

His feet impelled him out into the hallway, into the central room listed in the administrator's systems as the Cell Hub. There was someone he needed to talk to; someone whose opinion he, strangely, did care about. His hand reached out, hit the scanner pad by the door to the single occupied cell. A little readout above it listed her name, along with a little cartoon of her, and the video feed from the cameras inside the cell. Currently, Amy was sitting on her bed, staring at the opposite wall. Sander supposed it wasn't terribly surprising if she couldn't sleep tonight; this must be quite a shock, all things considered. He didn't quite smile, but his expression did grow lighter, as the door opened.

He saw Amy's eyes harden as he entered the room. He inclined his head in response, crossing the room silently to what passed for a window; the holographic display was currently showing the same view that he had seen from his own window. Frowning, he made a mental note to update the image database for the hologram system. 

'What do you want?' Amy's voice was cold, and her fingers curled into shaking fists.

'Couldn't sleep,' Sander shrugged. 'Needed someone to talk to.'

Amy's mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find words angry enough to be appropriate, 'And you came to me? Because I'm going to provide you with pleasant conversation, yes? Is that what you thought?'

'What? No, shut up,' Sander said. 'I get that you're angry. I was just wondering if you knew why you're here?'

Amy's brow furrowed. This time, she didn't need to search for a response at all, 'Because you're a complete psychopath and a rapist?'

'Only the surface reasons, then,' Sander's forehead rested against the hologram, sending ripples of light sliding across the surface of it. 'In the end, if I really, really think about it... This isn't about you or I. Isn't about Mara either. Or Ren. It's about the Doctor.'

'Yeah, I believe that!' Amy snapped. 'If it was about the Doctor you'd go after the Doctor. But you didn't. Both times, you went after me.'

'It's complicated.'

'How can you hate him so much?'

Sander turned his head to regard the woman, 'Do you remember what happened the last time we were together? Back on the asteroid?'

It had seemed impossible before, but Amy's expression grew even more acidic, 'Hard as I've tried, I haven't forgotten a single moment of the time I spent with you.'

'Back then, it was just pure rage. He had killed my wife, or caused her to die, or whatever it is you want to call it. I wanted revenge. I wanted him dead,' Sander closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 'But as time went on... I thought about it. Even past all that he's done to me, the Doctor is wrong.'

'How can you say that?'

Sander turned his gaze sharply towards Amy, affixing her with a dark, penetrating stare, 'Have you ever actually thought about what he is? About the nature of your relationship with him? About how damn scary that creature is? He is the closest thing this universe has to a living god, even if he doesn't admit it out loud! And he knows it, deep down! Actually think about it, Amy!'

'Sander...' Amy's voice quavered as she spoke. She had seen this look before, when the anger had overtaken him. It generally meant pain for her.

'It's like he's put the entire universe on a leash!' Sander growled. 'He doesn't like what somebody does, he pulls, as hard as he can! Interfering in the development of countless civilizations, not to mention all the individual lives he blunders into! He has no right to do that! And the worst part is, he's treated as a hero for it!'

'The Doctor saves people, Sander. That's something you don't seem to understand.'

'Sure, he saves people. But what about the ones he doesn't? What about the people he topples, because he doesn't like how they do things?' Sander spat bitterly. 'What about me? What right has he to wander in like he does? Even you thought that he would have chosen that Star Whale over the entire population of the Starship UK.'

'That was before I knew him that well!' Amy snapped. 'Before we properly became friends-'

'You are not his friend. You're more like a pet, Amy Pond. Someone to look impressed when he does something clever.'

'That's not true,' Amy snarled, suddenly all fire and brimstone. She glared at Sander, filled with pure, animal hate.

'Please, I bet you know more about me than you do about the Doctor! Where does he come from? And where do I come from?'

'He's from Gallifrey. You, you're from New Warsaw, on New Earth.'

'Just a planet for him, but a country for me. Hmm.'

'That doesn't mean anything-'

'Alright, let me make it easier for you: What's my first name?' Sander glanced sidelong at Amy. Her mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. She was stymied; Sander continued, 'You claim he's your best friend, but you know next to nothing about him. He doesn't tell you anything, because you're on his leash, same as everyone else. He'd drop you the moment you do anything he doesn't approve of. He's done it before. And he calls it mercy. Well, this is me, freeing myself of the leash. Even if I have to be the only person in the universe that is.'

'I'd been stupid, Amy. Mara... for eleven years, I ignored her,' Sander's expression became bitter and regretful. ' I'd been so wrapped up in the past that I'd been blinded to life. She told me once that she'd cared about me for years before I noticed. How that must have hurt her. I was stupid, but not anymore. This isn't about Elsa. It isn't about the Oncoming Storm, or about you... This is about me and him. It's about taking back what he took from me, showing him that he doesn't have the right to judge people the way he does. It's about proving that I am Sander Hackett, not some pet on his leash. Nobody else is saying it, so I will: The Doctor is a monster.'

There was a kind of shocked, horrified silence, as Amy stared on and realized that, deep down, Sander really did believe what he was saying. At the core of his being, he both feared and hated the Doctor, a being that had successfully saved the universe on several occasions. Despite his happy, relaxed new appearance, this was still the old Sander; that same terribly angry man that was perfectly happy with doing terrible things. 

'You're wrong,' Amy shook her head. 'I don't care what you say, you're wrong, Sander!'

She flinched, as he turned his impassive gaze to her. Somehow, his flat, appraising stare was worse than the fury and lust she had experienced previously. Slowly, he stepped toward her. Every muscle in Amy's body cried out for her to run, and her mind just barely overrode them; there was simply nowhere for her to go. Sander reached down and gently cupped her chin, tilting her face slowly upwards. He leaned in and planted a strong, suffocating kiss on her lips, his tongue probing her mouth even through her muffled sounds of protest. Eventually, he withdrew, leaving her literally gasping for breath.

'I am not wrong, Amy,' He said, his face still so close to hers. 'Power will always be abused. I have absolute power over you, right now. And I am abusing it. The things I could do to you, that you'd have no choice but to obey, would boggle your mind. Now, your friend the Doctor? He has pretty much unlimited power over all of space and time. Think about that. Properly examine the things you've watched him do. Not from your own perspective, but from that of the people he fights.'

He turned on his heel and went for the door. Amy was unable to suppress a sigh of relief. Briefly, he turned back, 'Tomorrow morning, you shall have another visitor. She's delicate, this one. A very close friend. I love her, she's practically my little sister. You will show her the proper respect, and you will be accommodating. If I find that you gave her any trouble, your mind will be boggled, pretty lady.'

****************************

'Well, well... Good morning, sleepy head.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 04



'Shut up, Ren,' Sander yawned, shielding his eyes from the morning light as he stepped outside, onto the large, stone balcony. Ren was lounging against a wall, looking out over the ocean. This was the reason Sander had had the thing built; he crossed the floor to the railing and propped himself against it with his elbows, retrieving his sunglasses and a cigarette from his pockets. 'I didn't spend a huge amount of time sleeping, last night.'

Ren gave a long, teasing whistle, 'Imouto-chan keeping you up, was she?'

Sander blew a stream of smoke at her in response, but said nothing. His eyes were obscured by the dark tint of his glasses, but Ren was sharp enough to catch the agitated wriggling of the fingers of his free hand, and the fact that he seemed to be chewing the end of his cigarette. For a man as smart as he, Sander had never been able to mask his feelings very well.

'Oh, so it's the Doctor, is it?' Ren frowned, swung herself up from the wall to get a little closer. She touched his shoulder, just for a moment, as she joined him there at the railing, leaning out over the sand below. That single contact was her form of reassurance, the best she could do, given the immensity of Sander's Doctor problems.

'It was the Doctor,' Sander said quietly. 'He's going to come for her. I couldn't completely delete her. It's that damn big bang two... the Engine doesn't know how to deal with her. The best I could do is send her here, and he'll be looking for her. I've made it so much worse for you guys...'

Again, Ren's fingers lightly brushed against his shoulder, 'Now, you know that I have no stake in this fight. The Doctor never did anything to me; I've never met the guy. Really, I'm just here for shits and giggles. But I will fight for you, Sander. Mara's here. So's Kanaria. And I like you and the other guys too, you're alright. So don't worry.'

'You used my full name,' Sander noted with interest. 'Is this... Is this serious Ren, for a change?'

'Yeah well, don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want to make this a habit.'

Neither of them laughed. Not outwardly, anyway. There was just silence, accentuated by the slow natural rhythms of the world around them; the breaking waves, the winds whipping through their hair, the soft rustling of the vegetation surrounding the building. And eventually, the opening of a sliding glass door.

'Hello, fellows!' Mara said brightly, leaping through the door and out into the sunlight. She grinned, seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere on the balcony.

'Good morning, big sister, Sander,' Kanaria's wispy voice followed Mara. She was smiling, but her cheeks were in full blush, which was unusual even for her. It was pretty clear what was embarrassing her so.

'Okay, what's wrong?' Mara attached herself to Sander's arm and stared quizzically at him. 'Any room that has you and Ren in it should be way louder. Was someone having a moment?'

'I guess. Sander thinks the Doctor's going to kill us all,' Ren shrugged. 'From what I've seen, he's just a nerd in a bowtie. With a fancy ship. I think I could take him,' She huffed theatrically. 'Doctor? Doctor W-'

Mara grabbed Ren by the collar and shook her roughly, eyes burning, 'If you say "Doctor Who" I swear to god I'll break your legs!'

'Whoa! Mara! Little angry, there?' Ren pulled herself free of her sister's grasp and eyed her quizzically. After a moment, Mara shrugged.

'Whenever anyone says that, it irritates me. Profoundly. I've never quite known why.'

'Well, listen, the point is this,' Ren shook her head. 'No Doctors here.'

'If only all of us could have the same narrow worldview as you, dear sister,' Mara rolled her eyes. 'Now, could anyone tell me why Kana's blushing so damn much? I've been asking, but she just looks away and giggles.'

'It's because-' 

'S-Sander!' Kanaria cut him off, stammering. If it had been dark, her face would probably have glowed. 'I don't even want you to know...'

Ren draped an arm around her youngest sister's shoulders, a wide, creepy looking grin spreading across her face, 'Kana-chan...' She lilted, drawing the words out. Kanaria shifted nervously, a tiny squeak escaping her as Ren pressed herself closer. 'Spill...'

Sander could see where this was going; Kanaria was generally as formidable as wet tissue paper, and it wouldn't be long before her brash sister would get what she wanted. Firmly, he extracted the younger woman from Ren's grip and guided her back through the glass doors, 'Just go. Flee. You know where her cell is, you didn't exactly need to get my permission, or anything.'

'Oh! Um... right. Okay...' Kanaria somehow managed to make the act of turning away hesitant, and Sander couldn't resist one last tease, as she walked away.

'Have fun!' He sang, watching her start suddenly as he did so. He knew instinctually that he was a bad man, after that, but a part of him felt it appropriate to grin, all the same. He poked his head outside again, to motion for Mara. He didn't exactly need her for anything, but nor could he imagine a reason why he wouldn't want her with him. She grinned back, and followed, leaving Ren out on the balcony.

'You know, people never seem to remember that I'm here too,' A voice issued from a deckchair positioned under a shade at the far end of the deck. 

'That's because you didn't speak up, dude,' Ren called back. A head poked up from behind the chair, a thin pair of arms hung themselves over the back of it. 

'Yeah,' The vaguely androgynous figure grinned. 'I just don't want to be a background character in this little play.'

'Sure, sure,' Ren waved vaguely. 'Hey, what's the deal with that ring San-chan's always wearing? Is it his wedding ring? Because, y'know, he's not married, anymore.'

'What?'

'His ring,' Ren persisted. 'The gold ring, that he has on his finger. He keeps toying with it when he gets agitated. But he's not married to Imouto-chan. So it's gotta be from when he was married, and that's not cool that he keeps wearing it.'

'I don't think he'd do that. He loves Mara, if it bothered her, he wouldn't be wearing it, now would he? Besides, you could just ask him about it, if it bothers you that much.'

Ren stared down the corridor, at the door that had closed on Sander and Mara. She sighed. When she had been recruited for this job, it had seemed like so much fun. Now, Amy was here; this was supposed to be the time when it all happened, and admittedly, it had been highly enjoyable, but... Why did everyone have to be so serious?

'You're probably right, Tsugi-chan.' 

*********************************

Kanaria stopped outside the door to Amy's cell, hand poised just above the scanner pad. Now, on the doorstep, doubts began to rise in her mind. But that was normal, especially for her. It was the work of but a few moments to tamp down on her misgivings. For science. 

Kanaria had no illusions about being a good person herself.

Jericho's voice slid out from the inset speakers, 'In accordance with Master Hackett's instruction, preparations have been made inside this cell to ensure a safe and enjoyable visitation, Miss Kanaria.'

'What has he done?' Kanaria's head tilted curiously.

'I have been instructed not to "spill the beans," Miss Kanaria. Master Hackett feels that it would be better left a surprise.'

'That's... ominous,' She sighed, pressing her palm to the scanner. 'Let's see what he's got for me...' The door slid open, and Kanaria squeaked.

Amy was sitting on the bed, eyes baleful and irritated, red hair falling around her face and obscuring her deadpan anger. Kanaria blinked; Sander certainly knew what he was doing...

She was naked, pale flesh gleaming like porcelain in the soft, morning light. Her hands were bound behind her back, shoulders pinioned in the tight bondage. Sander had opted for the magnetic cuffs, always a favorite for their easily adjustable length. A simple black ball gag topped off Sander's "preparations," clenched between Amy's teeth and spreading her jaw wide. She was packaged up and presented so appealingly, just waiting for someone to find her.

On top of all this, Kanaria was unable to ignore the silver glint of the Command Collar, looped around the captive's neck. Her eyes were drawn to it, and she felt an altogether different kind of blush creep through her. When she smiled, it had an eager edge to it, without losing any of its usual easygoing brightness. This was going to be fun.

'Hello, Amy!' Kanaria bounced into the room, certain compassionate instincts competing against the meaner parts of her mind to determine her immediate course of action. She dropped herself heavily onto the bed beside the bound girl, bouncing as the springs reacted to her weight.

Amy eyed this newcomer, making no attempt to hide her suspicion and anger. Although she seemed innocent enough, Amy wasn't about to make any assumptions; in the right light, Mara seemed pretty normal too. Who knew what lurked behind that sunny, charming smile? Under that head of lustrous, black hair? 

'Um... My name is Kanaria,' The newcomer said hesitantly, her eyes darting around and barely making eye contact for more than a few seconds. 'It's nice to meet you...'

Amy's eyes widened, her entire expression shifted into utter disbelief; was this actually happening? Sitting here naked, tied and pissed off, was this woman introducing herself? Did she want to be friends? What was this? She made a noise through her gag that she hoped would convey her incredulity.

'Oh! Ah, sorry about that!' Kanaria reached up behind Amy's head and divested her of the gag. Her face went even redder as she held the saliva-coated gag, watching as Amy worked her jaw, 'Wasn't thinking...'

She went further than merely removing Amy's gag, twisting at the waist to get around behind her to remove the cuffs. There was a muted click, and Amy's hands sprung free; she made a little sound of relief and rotated her shoulders, trying to dispel the ache. Beside her, Kanaria clicked her tongue with concern. She took hold of Amy's wrists, rubbed red and raw by their time in the cuffs, and gently massaged some blood back into them, a dissatisfied frown on her face.

'I love Sander,' She said, eyes occasionally catching Amy's. 'But he is a rough man, mostly. I'm sorry, Amy, he shouldn't have done that to you. I didn't want that.'

For a moment, all Amy could do was stare and cast around in her mind for something to say. It was clear, from the few moments Kanaria allowed herself eye contact, that she expected something from her, even in the inherently awkward nude position. But she was tired, her jaw ached- Jericho had packaged her some time ago- and the sweet, nervous girl act that Kanaria was putting on was getting on her nerves.

'Okay, what do you want?' Amy hissed finally. She rotated her shoulders, 'I mean, I can guess, judging from all this, that you didn't come here to talk.'

Kanaria stiffened and pursed her lips, hands fidgeting in her lap. Her eyes snapped to one side, and stayed there, 'Um... Well, you know. I'm here for the same thing as everyone else...'

Amy opened her mouth to say something back, and it was like she had sprung a trap; Kanaria swept forward, pressing her lips to Amy's with surprising strength. Her hands slid to Amy's waist, fingers trembling with nervousness. That was the most unexpected thing, to Amy; the odd tentative, anxious way in which Kanaria explored her body. She could actually sense her vague unease in her kiss, in the way she seemed to be holding herself back, even as her tongue made its first, faltering probe into Amy's mouth.

Despite all this, there was gentleness to Kanaria's attentions, something that the other jailers lacked. Her touch was soft and, while it had the same controlling edge that had characterized Amy's captivity, it was tempered by an earnest, exploratory kindness that usually wasn't present. Amy could sense the desire driving Kanaria's actions but, as those delicate, probing fingers rounded her hips, she knew that there was a genuine desire to give them both pleasure, not merely take it from her by force, as Sander, Mara and, latterly, Ren had. There was only one problem: She was not a lesbian. 

Kanaria's body melted against Amy's, much like the others had before her, but instead of pushing her down onto the bed, she clasped the soft body of her captive against her, and...

Actually, hold on: Only one problem? Amy cursed herself internally. She hadn't merely forgotten the fact that, no matter how gently, she was being raped. She had gotten used to it. Accustomed. So quickly, she had fallen back down into that rut, and the humiliation, the restraints... every part of this had become background noise. Normal, again. And if this was normal...

Amy knew she would be touched, molested, stimulated against her will and before she could even protest she would be shaking and moaning and dripping and cumming...

What was happening to her? 

She was already responding; the creamy flesh of her stomach trembled as Kanaria's fingertips trailed softly downwards. A soft, shaking whimper escaped her lips, her hands lay uselessly on the bed; she wanted to run, escape, disappear before the inevitable happened and her resistance shattered. Before she lost the battle against her own body. Before she...

Before she started liking it. 

But that was already happening, wasn't it? She could feel it happening, her body responding to the unexpected softness Kanaria was bringing to this encounter. Who was this girl, who could so effortlessly disarm her, make her forget her chains? Amy's resolve bounced from rock solid to completely insubstantial, based entirely on where Kanaria placed her hands, where their bodies touched... At her weakest moments, Amy found herself kissing back. 

'Amy?' Kanaria whispered breathlessly, between kisses. 'I want you to do something for me...'

Amy's heart sank as the other woman lifted the skirt of her sundress, letting it crease as she hiked it higher, revealing a modest pair of white panties beneath. Out of interest, Amy's gaze crept higher to confirm that, yes, Kanaria was now blushing like a schoolgirl, her smile completely adorable even with what was coming next. 

Her mouth opened once, twice, as she tried to get the words out, only to trip over her own tongue. Amy blinked, disbelieving: This woman was so cute! She was legitimately embarrassed for doing this; not remorseful, not hesitant, but embarrassed that she was having sex at all. Embarrassed to be showing off her underwear to a stranger... How did a person like this get mixed up in Sander's game?

Now that it was clear that there was no act, that Kanaria was literally incapable of hiding anything, she became almost endearing. Still, the humiliation of being stripped and bound for her amusement, cute though she was, loomed in Amy's mind. No matter how much Kanaria stammered or mumbled, there was an impending order in her future, and when she finally gave it, Amy would be unable to disobey. That fact was inescapable.

Except that suddenly, there was no order. Kanaria stood, gave Amy a dazzling smile and, through her ever-deepening blush, pulled her underwear down to her knees before falling back to the bed. Amy eyed the slightly moist pink folds presented to her, knowing that very soon, that was where her face was going. 

Kanaria gave Amy a gentle smile and ran her fingertips lightly over her cheek, 'I'd like you to use your mouth. Can you do that for me, Amy? Please? Will you lick me?'

Her cheeks flushed red as she felt Kanaria's hand slide through her hair, exerting a very gentle downward pressure. Her eyes went to her captor's, pleading silently for some kind of mercy, knowing the truth; Kanaria might be meek, but she wasn't above using the Command Collar. After all, there was a reason she had taken that last step across the threshold and entered this particular room. This cell.

And the deeper truth was that everything about this, the hand on her head urging her lower, her nudity, and the sweetness in Kanaria's voice... They were doing something to her. An awful, familiar, shameful heat built in the pit of Amy's stomach. She could feel the first inklings of her own wetness between her legs at the impending rape. Recriminations wracked her mind: this was wrong. She was being forced. This shouldn't be doing affecting her like this. What was wrong with her?

But as she was forced to bend at the waist under Kanaria's insistent hand, her knees bent beneath her, her doubts became tertiary concerns. She couldn't think straight, not with the force of her own humiliation and guilt. Not with her whole body seemingly on fire with embarrassment as she leaned ever closer to Kanaria's pussy. She whimpered and gave one last, half-hearted squirm, feeling that she must offer some resistance, fight against the inevitable...

'Amy, please don't make me order you...' Kanaria pouted, and Amy could sense the genuineness of the sentiment. Did she feel like it was cheating? 

Amy exhaled a deep, shuddering sigh, her eyes closing as all her options faded away and she was left with a single, humiliating course of action. She was inches away from Kanaria's pussy, so close that her breath made the young woman shiver. The expression on her captor's face had changed, her eyes reflecting her growing need. This was happening, even if Kanaria had to utter that dreaded command word. 

Rather than allow control of her body to be stolen away from her, Amy girded herself for what was expected of her and stuck out her tongue, giving Kanaria a firm lick up the length of her slit. There was a gasp from above, and the thighs arrayed by Amy's ears clenched suddenly. Despite the situation she found herself in, Amy grinned; she had far more control over this encounter than she would have if this was Sander or Mara. It was important to savor the little things, in dark circumstances like this.

Still, her face flushed red as Kanaria's fingers curled tighter through her hair, her smile disappeared as she was forced deeper between the newcomer's legs and her subconscious picked that precise moment to remind her of the collar around her neck. The reality of her situation was inescapable; she was imprisoned on an alien world and was currently being forced to lick a stranger's pussy. There were no victories for her. 

And yet, a traitorous little voice in her head whispered, you are getting wet...

Her thighs squeezed together, but nothing was going to rid her of the heat curling between her own legs, even as she lapped at the space between Kanaria's. Her body seemed to betray her instantly, and she whimpered through the haze of unwanted arousal that was steadily building through her. The guilt at the thought that any part of her could enjoy this was terrible, almost a physical weight pressing down on her. Not that it did anything to assuage those feelings; in fact, guilt seemed to amplify them. 

'Oh, yes! Yes, like that!' Kanaria gasped, a shudder wracking her body. 'Oh, that feels wonderful, Amy!'

Amy's face burned as her mouth went to work on Kanaria's sweltering cunt, the taste of the strange woman strong on her tongue. She focused on the clit, figuring there was little point in drawing this out, her sucking lips capturing the tiny bud and drawing a long, tense shudder from its owner. What she was doing seemed to be working; every moan, whimper or shiver of pleasure Kanaria gave just signposted where she should focus her attentions. More than anything, Amy desired an end to this; if she could just make her cum, maybe she would leave. In her absence, maybe Amy could dispel the feelings welling in her, the terrible pressure building in her stomach. That desperate, freewheeling desire that wished only to be quenched. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 04



Maybe she could silence the voice in her head that urged her to lick harder, to use her teeth not merely for an ending, but in the hopes that she would be used in kind...

That slender, long-fingered hand stroked her hair, like she was some sort of pet, and the action sent a bolt of something through her. Her thighs clenched again, hoping to lessen her own shameful need. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, at being caught in this trap again, at the acts she was forced to perform, and at herself for succumbing so easily to her traitorous physicality, and to feelings she'd thought she'd left behind three months ago. She sniffed, blinked them back, but kept licking; anything would be better than having to feel like this. 

'Can you... Ooh! Could you do that thing with your teeth again, Amy dear?' Kanaria's voice shook as she spoke; she wasn't teasing, her words were genuine, but her body was asking for things, and the best way to get them was through Amy. 'Yes! Just like that! You're doing very well!'

Kanaria's back arched as she lost herself to pleasure, her eyes dreamily watching the bobbing head between her legs. Her toes curled as that soft, warm tongue pressed against her folds, stroking insistently across her lips, her clit... before plunging momentarily into her molten depths, eliciting a deep shudder from her. Occasionally, Amy's indignant, tear-filled eyes would rise to meet her own, and some evil part of her found the image so appealing...

'God, your mouth feels incredible...' Kanaria moaned, throwing her head back. 'Please... I want to cum. C-can you make me cum, Amy?'

Her other hand reached out, unbidden, and touched her captive; stroked down the bare skin of her back and caressed her ass. She could feel Amy's muscles tense under her hand, her haunches tightening as she shuddered and pulled away. There should have been some moral conflict flooding Kanaria's mind, some doubt in her mind over what was happening; there so often was. But she was feeling so good...

Amy grunted as Kanaria's pussy convulsed around her tongue, her thighs shaking as her orgasm hit. She gritted her teeth as her muscles tensed, pressing Amy's mouth harder against her soaking wet core, her juices oiling that addictive tongue of hers. Pleasure washed through her in waves as she kept Amy down, tongue against her clit. Her weight dipped back, resting on her free hand, palm down against the bed with fingers curling in the sheets. Without realizing it, her thighs were clenched tight around Amy's head; she could feel the heat of the redhead's blushing cheeks on her skin.

And as hard as Amy tried, she couldn't help herself; the feeling of Kanaria cumming because of her, the taste of the other woman forced into her mouth in copious amounts... She felt awful, but that undeniable seeping wetness between her legs didn't seem to care. When Kanaria finally released her, she couldn't get away fast enough; only her collar stopped her from fleeing to the other side of the room.

Kanaria spent a few moments panting and staring at the ceiling, her lustful expression fading before being replaced by her usual bright smile. She turned to regard the wide-eyed Amy with a bashful look, 'Oh, wow... Um, thank you, Amy...'

The response was a frown and a long, intense stare. Amy worked her tongue around the edges of her mouth, swallowing several times in an attempt to remove the taste of pussy juice. It didn't work.

Kanaria's blue eyes twinkled inscrutably as the blushing beauty shifted herself closer to Amy. One arm draped itself around her bare shoulders; the grip was gentle, but it served as an effective means of keeping her in place. Again she was treated to that meek smile, moments before Kanaria kissed her. Her breath tickled Amy's face as she pulled away, 'T-that was wonderful!' She sighed happily. 'I... If you like, I could return the favor... You did so well, I wouldn't mind at all...'

Amy opened her mouth to refuse, hoping against hope that Kanaria would actually listen and leave her alone, but when one thin-fingered hand cupped her breast she moaned softly and shivered.

'Oh my!' Kanaria giggled. 'I'll take that as a yes!' Her hand slipped lower, stroking her belly en route to her thighs.

Again she tried to protest, but her body hungrily accepted Kanaria's caresses, and she pushed herself against her captor's soft hands. She sobbed pitifully as her breath fluttered in her throat, senses enflamed. She shrank back from Kanaria's touch, an act that caused the other woman to smile so disarmingly and lay one hand against Amy's cheek, tilting her head so that it leaned on Kanaria's shoulder. Amy did nothing, sat frozen, her entire body seemingly at war with itself. 

'I know this must be hard for you, but it's okay...' Kanaria whispered gently to her, her free hand stroking the length of Amy's hair. 'You can relax. It's alright if you enjoy this... Don't fight it...'

One hand worked between Amy's legs, fingering her with long, deep, slow strokes that made her shudder with unwanted desire and fogged her mind. But Kanaria's other hand caressed her hair as she cradled Amy's face against her shoulder, whispering such lovely affirmations in her ear. She shivered.

It wasn't just the shocking gentleness of Kanaria's touch, or the things she was saying... It went deeper than that. Though the voice was tender and caring, there was something in it, some harmonic or nurturing instinct that Amy couldn't place. It wasn't the voice of a lover, no matter the things it was saying. It was gentle, but this was a loss of control too; Amy wasn't getting washed away by the sensations running through her, she was submitting to them. She was going to cum, whether she accepted it or not; Kanaria was trying to convince her, almost like a mother would for a child faced with a seemingly unpleasant task...

The rational parts of Amy's mind felt so tiny, being coddled, being controlled like this; like her pussy, her mouth, her nipples and her clit were merely controls that could be used to deepen her submission. But her rational mind wasn't exactly in full control, and she moaned and closed her eyes and shook in Kanaria's arms, like a good girl...

Besides, that traitorous voice reasoned, as she allowed herself to be fingered... Wasn't all that true, anyway?

'Let go, Amy. You don't need to hold on to it, it'll feel so good when you let it go,' Kanaria's voice was so soothing... 'You're such a beautiful girl, and you made me feel wonderful... I want you to feel good too, Amy.'

Every second that she allowed Kanaria to touch her like this, her ability to resist crumbled under a tide of desire and heat; the need to cum was overwhelming. If she could just get off, she might be able to think straight...

'That's it... It feels good, doesn't it? Don't fight it, there's no one else here but you and me. It's okay if you want to cum, sweetness.'

She growled in deep, animal satisfaction, her legs shifting wider as her higher functions were swept away and her body was given free reign to do what felt right. Suddenly, those wonderful fingers were between her legs, inside her... Kanaria's smile was so bright and friendly and harmless and sexy... She was being fucked, everything felt good... And...

'That's the way. Cum for me... Sweet Amy, beautiful Amy... you can cum, if you want to...'

She was no longer her own person; she belonged to her aching flesh, to the demands it was making, to the tide of fire building high in her bones. Everything in her seemed to convulse and contract around a central point, a high-pressure ball of arousal lodged low in her belly, so dense and thick and insistent. Her breath came out in harsh, abrupt gasps; her eyes were wide and sightless, filled with tears. She shuddered, violently.

She came with shocking suddenness, her body's hair-trigger firing all at once. Kanaria's fingers were deep inside her, an insistent thumb placed over her needy clit with a circular rubbing motion, like it needed to be polished. There was a sharp intake of breath that caught in her throat; it was the last time Amy Pond breathed for a while as she ceased to be a complete person and was transformed into a moaning, trembling body, cumming and fucking herself mindlessly on a strange woman's fingers. 

Dimly, she was aware of Kanaria's vaguely shocked giggling at the sheer force of her orgasm. Not that it mattered.

Eventually, Amy descended from the heavens, panting hard. Sweat beaded on her forehead, matting the hair at her fringe into damp strands. Slowly, she was able to disengage her jaw from its enraptured clench, and she licked her suddenly dry lips repeatedly. She dared not meet Kanaria's gaze as, free from the forge of climax, the old shame and guilt and doubt came back to her. Along with the worst of realizations: in the moment, with the seconds stretching out to eternity and with nothing more important than Kanaria's touch, she had not been unwilling.

'How was that?' Kanaria said, retaining her usual friendly tone, with maybe a touch of awe there now. 'Did I do okay? Did you enjoy yourself?'

Amy was fairly certain she was sporting a blush that could rival Kanaria's at her most embarrassed; her face felt like it was on fire. She hung her head low and attempted to regain her breath, but she avoided any contact with the tiny, black-haired woman. For what seemed like the longest time, she was left alone with Kanaria's expectant gaze, committed to simply ignoring it as her mind provided the kind of recrimination and guilt that organized religion hadn't been able to achieve in centuries of trying. 

Eventually, Kanaria stood and gingerly released Amy from her cuffs; her hands swung around to her front, fingers knitting together in her lap. Never before had the collar around her neck seemed so heavy. She could feel the blood pounding in her temples.

'Well, that was nice,' Kanaria smiled. 'If you'd like to get dressed, you could come out and get some air?'

'Oh, now why would I want to do that, when I could just stay in this cell?' Dull eyed, Amy glared out at Kanaria. 'Let my rapists come to me, hmm?' There was an intensity slowly being filtered back into her slender frame, the old fire and defiance. This wasn't something she was allowing to happen, it was something that was being done to her...

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, the animal part of her whispered languorously. You did enjoy it.

'Sander was insistent,' Kanaria shrugged helplessly. 'He said you should meet the crew at some stage...'

Suddenly, Amy was on her feet, her whole body stiff and oddly stilted. One hand reached for the wardrobe, 'Fine! Let's greet the day, shall we?' Ice tinkled on every syllable, and she pulled a random selection of clothes from the shelves with more than usual ferocity, her nakedness seemingly forgotten.

Kanaria blinked, and watched the flurry of angered, angular movement that Amy became as she dressed. Minutes later, Amy threw her arms wide, grinding her teeth; she had chosen the loosest clothes she could find: a long, billowy skirt that seemed depressingly easy to hike up to her hips, and a loose, dark colored shirt with a neckline that dipped just a little too low. Her eyes had a deadpan cast.

Without a word, Kanaria opened the door and gestured for Amy to follow her. She had never done well around angry people- when she was little she had been terrified of Ren, most of the time- and Amy was practically vibrating with suppressed rage. One of her hands tugged unconsciously at the Command Collar, as if she could slip it off if she fiddled with it enough.

As much as Sander's Trismestigius home looked like an airy vacation spot, it was wasted on Amy. Most things were, when viewed through a red haze of rage and self-hatred. One question, in her mind: How could you cum for her?

A group was assembled in the open plan living area, seated around a large glass table. The sounds of lively conversation filled the room. Amy's eyes went first to Sander and Mara, the latter sat in the former's lap, his hands encircling her waist. He wore a genuine smile, and as unsatisfying as it was, Amy had to admit: there was a man deeply in love with that woman. It only made it more distressing that he'd set out to kidnap her again.

Ren gave her an airy wave and a wolfish grin when she caught sight of her, a tiny laugh shaking her shoulders. She sat at the far end of the table to Sander, feet up on the edge with her hands behind her head. The conversation had stopped when Amy entered the room, as each person turned their eyes to her. 

Her own eyes were locked on the two figures sitting together to one side, both smiling brightly at her.

'Yo!' Tsugi called to her, waving a hand at her high above his head. In response, she pointed, first at him, then at the other.

'You!'

The final person clapped her hands together delightedly, 'Amy!' She cried, leaping to her feet, pink hair flowing around her. 'So good to see you!'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 05



Dear Literotica Editor: There are italics in this submission that I would like retained. Thanks!

Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello! This is chapter five, where Sander's crew is finally put together in one room, and the last few members are introduced. I don't actually have a lot to say about this one, so I'll be brief.

Thanks to Isabel for her creative input, and for putting up with me in general. Also, thanks to Allyourbase for being an excellent editor who always improves these things before they gey submitted. Thanks, guys!

Votes, feedback or comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Kurokami

****************

'You!'

'Amy! So good to see you!'

'Ly-kun, you know Amy-hime?'

'Um, Ren?' Tsugi tilted his head. 'I've been meaning to ask: Why does Amy get the "hime" suffix? Because she's... Um, she's not "Princess Amy," here. It's sort of the opposite.'

'I've never really thought about it... She's really hot, though. And it's ironic. And it's because I fuckin' feel like it, Tsu-kun.'

'Wait, why did I get a new nick?'

'We're getting off topic!' Sander cut off the other conversation before it got out of hand. He'd heard enough of them to know that it would, inevitably, 'Amy, Ly is here because the Doctor cost her her job.'

'My name is Lysithea. Why do all of you insist of nicknaming me?'

Sander raised his hand, 'Because your people collect names like other people collect stamps.' He shrugged and closed his eyes, 'Lysithea Eldridge Ol'heroa Castilian Heiwajima Keldrane Hisataka Podirona... I am saying that right, aren't I?'   

The Trine-form blinked and stared at Sander, 'Yes, actually. That's very impressive, Sander!'

'No it isn't...' Mara said flatly. 'Not for him. He's like a savant, or something.'

'Hey, guys, come on...'

'Uh, Lyssy...' Kanaria began. 'I've always wondered why it is that the Trine have all those surnames?'

'Oh, we do collect them. Trine-form cannot breed with each other, we need additional genetic material from another species, so we all go offworld at one point or another, hence the need for our species-wide psychic link,' Lysithea stopped for a moment, then added, almost mechanically. 'Our Chorus... Anyway, last names are inherited and chained together as a sort of family tree, but it's still hard to keep track of so-'

'Guys! Come on!' Sander exclaimed. 'Look, Amy's here! Wow! I wonder what incredible technological feat brought her here! Does nobody have a comment to make? Jesus...'

Lysithea shrugged, 'No, I think I can be satisfied with "good to see you," if it's all the same to you guys.'

Amy piped up for the first time, 'Why the reunion? I mean, why all these others? Why them?' She gestured vaguely at Tsugi and Lysithea, but her eyes never left Sander, and they flared with indignation; as if he had brought these two here simply to demean her.

'Look at this place,' Sander shrugged. 'It's huge. Takes a lot to maintain. I took on Ren and Kanaria mostly because Mara wanted her sisters on board, but Kanaria is a talented A.I technician and Ren can repair machines like nobody's business. I headhunted Tsugi from my brother because I needed a good general technician and he was wasted aboard the Oviroa-'

'Turns out I was never that loyal,' Tsugi shrugged with a grin.

'And Lysithea... Well, she lost her job at Nirvana when the Doctor broke in and forced her to reveal privileged information about her clients so he could find you.' Sander pointed.

'I'm still a little miffed about that,' Lysithea said.

'And we thought that a psychic with abilities like hers would be no end of fun when we finally got you back,' Mara added with a sly grin. Amy shuddered with the memory of the first time she and Lysithea had been in a room together. This only made Mara grin wider.

'Besides, we're still down a person,' Ren yawned widely and slid further down in her chair. 'Dulsie isn't here yet. Where the fuck is that girl? She's always going missing.'

Sander gave a lopsided smile, 'She's been on the dark side of the moon for a few days. I don't know what she does over there, but she's coming back to see Amy today. Should be here any second, really.'

'Ooh, that'll be a nice surprise for her!' Ren shot Amy a pointed, evil glance.

A moment of silence followed as every individual in the room seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak first. Amy took the opportunity to really scrutinize the motley collection of people that Sander had put together; Ren fit in fine, but Kanaria stood out like a delicate and softly spoken sore thumb. Even with what had happened earlier in her cell, Amy had a hard time imagining Kanaria's place in this endeavor.

Lysithea... Well, she had barely changed at all in the three years since their last meeting. She still retained that air of otherworldly grace, all packaged up in pristine, pure white skin- not human white, but the color of fresh milk- and beautiful, shimmering pink hair. She was alien, but knowing that only served to increase her allure. There were some differences; her hair seemed longer, and the style had changed, and she had definitely grown several inches taller, but she hadn't aged a day. Amy wondered just how much the Trine differed from humanity.

As for Tsugi, he was still highly confusing. In fact, Amy was only using "he" via assumption; there was no way of knowing the appropriate pronoun to use just by looking. "He" smiled at her when she looked at him, but his eyes mostly darted the length of the room. He was a little older, a little taller, but there was still that round, youthful face that never quite faced you directly; there were no clues there. His hair was covered, but for a few black strands, by a thick, dark colored beanie.

Amy looked down, hoping to gain something from the shape of his body but he was thin and mostly obscured by a bulky- and painfully stylish- jacket; one thing was certain, he liked dark colors. His trousers were a little too elegant to be entirely male, but there was no discernible curve to his hips... as if that was any indication... Highly confusing.

Despite the gravity of her situation, this was the biggest question on Amy's mind. It wasn't as if she could just come out and ask, right? "Are you a guy?" Surely Sander knew? He'd tell her...

Yeah. Sure. He'd tell her...

'Okay!' Sander clapped his hands together, heralding the end of the silence. 'Who gets Amy next?'

'Hey!' Amy shouted indignantly. He'd leap to that right away, would he?

'Oh, not right away, obviously!' Sander smiled, waving a hand to silence her. 'No. We haven't even had breakfast, yet! And nobody here is any good without coffee, yes? But after that... Tsugi, you want her?'

'No, hey, I'm good. Maybe later.'

Sander stared at him for a moment, eyes getting progressively narrower, 'You know, someday you're going to have to tell me what you are.' He said quietly, causing Amy to blink in surprise: He didn't know either?!

'Maybe later,' Tsugi repeated, shrugging.

'I'll take her for a while,' Lysithea said casually. 'I won't be long.'

'Aw, come on...' Amy began, only to be silenced by a sharp gesture from Sander.

'Okay! Ly, you get her next. Tsugi, if you're not going to take her after that, you'll have to step aside for Dulsie.'

'Fine, fine!' Tsugi waved a hand dismissively. The fingers of his free hand drummed on the tabletop; Amy had never seen someone so committed to looking bored before.

'Oh, this is going to be fun to hear about later...' Mara giggled. 'This was a great idea, Hackett!'

'Wasn't it? Okay, enough! Everyone, do what you must! Refuel, whatever, I don't really care. Lysithea... She's all yours.'

'Well, actually, there's only one thing I really wanted to do,' The Trine-form shrugged. 'And I can do it here.'

She slipped around the edge of the table to approach Amy. That refined, friendly smile never left her pale face, but that only unsettled her further. As the alien swept forward, the hem of her long dress almost trailing the ground, Amy wanted nothing more than to flee. She felt her feet sliding back, preparing for that all important first step. But her sinking heart knew running wasn't an option; that collar around her neck could teleport her back to her cell in moments. There was nowhere to run.

'You may want to sit down for this,' Lysithea said kindly, gently guiding Amy to the nearest seat. The muscles in her legs were still poised to flee, her gait tense and stiff. She sat, unconsciously shrinking back in the chair, away from the alien's looming figure. Lysithea laid a hand over Amy's forehead, causing her to flinch.

'Okay,' She brushed a strand of pink hair from her face and exhaled, deeply and steadily. Her eyelids grew heavy, slowly drooping until her eyes were half closed. 'Sit still, Amy. Reconnecting a psychic link is hard work, and if you fidget, I might cause brain damage to one of us. And I guarantee you, I shall be trying to avoid inflicting injury to myself.'

'Please-' Amy began.

'No,' Lysithea added firmly. 'Do not speak. Engaging the language centers of your brain is about as bad as moving. Sit still, keep your mind blank, and let me in.'

Amy's eyes searched the room, 'Sander, come on-'

'Amy! Sit! Still! Shut! Up!' Sander shouted. 'Unless you want Ly to make your head explode or something! This is not hard!'

'But-'

'Command:' Tsugi said quietly. 'Sit still and be silent so that Ly can get this over with.' The words were simple, and spoken in an even, low tone, but they made everyone else in the room go quiet. For a moment, all eyes were on Tsugi; Sander in particular seemed almost embarrassed that he hadn't thought of that first.

'What? That's what the collar is for,' Tsugi shrugged. 'Ly, do your thing.'

'Thank you, Tsugi,' Lysithea nodded, returning her gaze to Amy, who was squirming under the alien's delicate touch. Again, her eyes grew heavy, then closed. Her fingers twitched in Amy's hair, and they both stiffened slightly. For the two of them, the world went soft as Lysithea's mind reached out to Amy's. They heard sounds that weren't there, random and discordant, the sound of a thousand violins playing sour notes.

'Ah, there you are, Amy!' Lysithea laughed. 'Always nice to be in a familiar mind... Oh, but things have changed for you, hmm? Trouble with Rory?'

Amy sat bolt upright, 'Shut up. Just shut up.' Her eyes flared indignantly.

'Oh, I kind of want to hear about all that,' Mara gave an astonished grin and twisted around in Sander's lap. 'Trouble with Rory? Lyssy, let's hear all the details! Sounds juicy!'

'Shut up!' Amy hissed, leaping to her feet. 'Shut your damn mouth!'

'And now I want to hear it too,' Ren said, drawing out her words. 'Yeah, if it's pissing her off that much, I want in. Yeah.'

Her fingers clenched into fists, Amy struggled to keep herself still, stop herself from pouncing on Ren. She knew, deep down, that it would be pointless; Ren looked like she could take care of herself even if the Command Collar hadn't been around Amy's neck. But this was an insult that she couldn't bear. It was enough that this situation was being repeated, that she was being torn away from everything she cared about at the whims of someone she hated; now they were badmouthing Rory? Sure, they were having problems, but Rory was precious to her...

Lysithea's hand was on her shoulder, a steadying influence as the red rage filled her mind. A feeling of calm reached out to her, across the mental connection she could barely feel, 'Hello, Amy. You remember how this works, don't you? Calm yourself. Attacking Ren... would be a bad idea. She can be abrasive, but she could easily rebuff you. Violently. I'm not going to tell them anything, so sit down. You're alright. Or... You're as alright as can reasonably be expected.'

Amy blinked as Lysithea's voice sounded in her head, surprised despite her memories of the last time this had happened. She glanced over; the Trine-form wasn't even looking at her. How odd.

'Just so you all know, I have a dormant connection with Amy now,' Lysithea said aloud. 'I can't read her thoughts, most of the time. That would be a bit much. But I'll know if anything interesting happens to her. And I can open an active connection whenever, if any of you feel like taking advantage of it,' She smiled. 'I know that Sander and Mara particularly enjoyed it, the first time we met.'

Her smile turned wicked as she inclined her head to Amy, 'Besides all that, there are certain switches in her head I can flip, if I like.' Her eyes narrowed, just slightly. Then it happened.

A floodgate opened in Amy's mind, and Lysithea's will poured through it. Her legs buckled immediately, bearing her to the floor as, suddenly, unexpectedly, she came. Unadulterated, molten pleasure burned through her unsuspecting frame, forcing her to kneel there on the cool tile floor and tremble uncontrollably, gasping at irregular intervals and flooding her panties with a hot rush of juices. Her orgasm drove the breath from her lungs in much the same way as a sledgehammer to the ribs.

Again, a moment of crystalline, expectant silence as Amy's audience sat poised on the edges of their respective seats, inspecting her closely; a course of action that caused Amy herself to blush bright red at the realization that they had all just watched her cum spontaneously. This was followed by the worse realization that, if she wanted to, Lysithea could make her do it again just by thinking about it.

Then the silence shattered into whoops of sheer delighted laughter as Sander, Mara, Ren and Tsugi erupted together. Mara was applauding Lysithea with manic energy, 'Oh ho, that is cool!' She cheered, leaping from Sander's lap to hug the alien tightly, bouncing on the spot. Amy just knelt there, allowing herself a single miserable whimper, below the hearing of her highly amused audience.

Sander had left his chair, and he called out from the doorway, 'Okay, my personal alarm just went off, so I guess Dulsie's back. You guys... Seriously, eat something. As funny as all this is, I do not want you all going off and skipping breakfast again. I'm not your fucking father, I shouldn't have to keep reminding you all. And... Make sure Amy gets fed too. I don't want it said that I'm a bad host.'

'Hey, Sander!' Tsugi yelled as he disappeared down the hallway. 'Do you think Dulsie will want something to eat once she's inside?'

Sander's sarcastic laughter echoed down to Tsugi, 'Ha ha, you're fucking funny, Nakatsukasa! Real grade-A stuff there! Maybe you should tell her that, I'm sure she'd be appreciative! Now go do something useful!'

*************************

It was surprising how quickly the group seemed to transition to normalcy, once Sander had left. Kanaria had left the room and come back with various foods, and suddenly, without referencing kidnapping or anything like that, they were all having breakfast together. It was enough to make Amy pause, until a plate of food was placed in front of her and she realized that it had been a while since she had last eaten. And frankly, that seemed like the primary concern.

Because these people all lived together on a celestial body that has a total population of seven, conversation was limited, and it wasn't long before repetition set in. The solution was obvious, and it was one that had allowed people to avoid talking to each other for thousands of years: television.

After a few moments of dealing with another instance of Jericho's mystery Code: Marduk, Kanaria got the large, thin screen working. Of course, like everything else in this place, the media available for consumption was weird and unfamiliar; some highly energetic animated show... Gurren Lagann, Amy read at one point. Her captors seemed familiar with it, at least, they knew when to cheer; Amy had to admit that, despite the people she was watching it with, the show did have an infectious kind of brash energy. And by this point Amy was willing to give any kind of distraction a try.

At around the point that the loudest, tattooed character with the cheesy-cool sunglasses was yelling at a giant, face-shaped robot that had crashed into his underground city-thingy, Sander silently slipped back into the room and touched Amy lightly on the shoulder. His eyes were on the screen and he grinned with genuine enthusiasm, seeming to immediately slip into the storyline. When the whole group-except Amy- yelled the next line at the screen, he joined in, without having the decency to look even slightly embarrassed about doing so.

'You have a visitor,' He said, during a lull in the noise emanating from the screen. 'Come on.'

She acquiesced, standing up with no small degree of reluctance. Still, she did feel a little better on a full stomach, more capable of handling whatever this day would throw at her. Sander gave her an encouraging smile and grabbed her hand yet again, winking to Mara as he led her out and down another unfamiliar corridor. This one featured the same pure white walls, though the ceiling was a single, uninterrupted skylight running the length of it. The light coming in was bright and warm, and it illuminated a single door at the opposite end, a metal plate at eye height engraved with a single word, in a flowing script: "Dulcimer."

She was ushered through the door, and into a large, unbearably tidy room; it was clean in that it was decorated in a decidedly minimalist fashion. There was a large wardrobe, a glass case containing an ancient-looking cello and a large padded cushion in one corner. One wall played host to a large screen, and there was a genuine window that looked out onto the ocean; it was currently open and letting in a gentle breeze. The overall effect was calming, but also vaguely confusing; this was a bedroom without a bed.

Sander's hands were on her shoulders, spinning her around and maneuvering her towards the cushion. He motioned, she sat, 'Now, you're going to meet another of my friends. I'll stick around for a little while, because... Well, this is going to take some explaining. Or, a lot of explaining. Whatever. Just... be respectful, or I'll have to punish you. I like this girl, Amy.'

'Yeah, whatever...' Amy muttered darkly.

Sander left the room, and for a moment there was the sound of hushed talking before the door opened again and he reentered, his arm draped around the shoulder of another person. Amy's eyes widened, and she squeaked.

'Amy, this is Dulsie, the final part of our little cabal,' Sander said, ushering the newcomer into the room and gesturing, as if to present her for Amy's approval. He was right, in a way; she definitely had comments about this one.

'So, that's a woman without a head,' She said, quizzically. 'I'll admit, it's novel. That's a new one.'

'Hey!' Sander frowned, voice tinged with genuine irritation. 'Respect! She's a Dullahan, this is how they look. Occasionally, non-humans will look different.'

'She has no head!'

'This, oddly, does not prevent me from hearing you, Amy Pond.'

'Oh good, she's telepathic too...'

'Listen, Amy,' Sander hissed. 'Dulcimer is an important part of this operation, and headless or not, she's a good person. Ha, wow: how many times do you get to say that in a lifetime?'

Amy merely stared at him, trying to figure out whether or not he was being serious. The look on his face indicated that he was, and that any further outbursts regarding the new alien or body parts that she may lack would not be tolerated. Instead, Amy contented herself with trying to figure out what Dulsie's deal was.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 05



Aside from the obvious thing she was lacking, Dulcimer looked fairly normal; she was a slender, willowy woman, clad in white pants and a shirt, with a poised, confident stature. She stood very still, radiating calm, and Amy had the feeling of being watched, observed by some vast intellect that was only mildly interested in her. It was unsettling for a number of reasons.

Despite herself, Amy began peering up in order to get a better look at the point where her head should have started; the beginnings of her neck blurred into a grey fugue that hurt Amy's eyes when she looked at it directly. She got the distinct impression that Dulcimer didn't want her staring.

'It's nice to meet you, Amy,' Dulsie's voice flowed through her mind again; Sander's expression indicated that he could hear it too. 'I am Setton Dulcimer Heskelyn. You may call me, oh, whatever you like. I think that in days to come you'll have all sorts of colorful names for me, the same as my friends. I'm sure some of them prefer Master and such... I suppose Miss Heskelyn is apropos, given the fledgling nature of our relationship, although the closest approximation in my language would be Setton-Siha... I'm sorry, Sander, am I rambling?'

'You really, really are,' Sander nodded. 'But that's okay, you'll live forever, so it's not your life that's wasting away listening to you talk,' He poked her playfully in the ribs. 'Now, listen... You need to be gentle with Amy. Mara and I enjoyed what you did for us, but you are fucking intense, Dulsie. Go slow. Let her get used to you.'

'Oh, this could not get more ominous...' Amy rolled her eyes, feigning indifference, but deep down she could feel a growing cloud of apprehension spreading through her like a poisonous mist.

'I'll be nice, Sander,' Dulsie gave a placating gesture as her voice folded itself into every corner of the human's minds. Amy found it an odd feeling, having the Dullahan communicate with her; it was different from Lysithea's direct telepathy. Rather than simply having a voice in her head, Amy could feel the smooth, intelligent voice of the alien twang through her like a physical force; like being hugged almost to the point of being crushed, but not quite. And yet, oddly, it wasn't unpleasant. Dulcimer's mind might be strong, but it wasn't particularly violent.

'Oh, I never said nice,' Sander grinned wolfishly. 'No, just gentle. And remember to save whatever you find. It might be interesting to look over later. You cats enjoy yourselves,' He waved as he retreated from the room, eyebrows wriggling suggestively.

Alone with the bizarre, headless alien, Amy had no idea what she was supposed to do. Every rational bone in her body told her to flee or try to reason her way out of her increasingly crazy situation. Several of her less rational parts wanted to laugh as Dulcimer wandered over to her, folding her legs under her to take a seat on the same mat Amy was seated on. A tense moment of silence followed, and once again Amy got the feeling that she was being watched.

'Okay, Amy!' Dulsie's hands clapped together. 'Let's get down to business. I'm sure you heard what Sander just said, but let me add that my gentleness is predicated on your compliance. If you struggle, well... There isn't a lot I can do to stop you from being hurt.'

'What are you going to do?' Amy said, aiming for "challenging and defiant," rather than "mystified and scared," and failing. 'How would we even...? I don't know, do you have the right parts? God, I can't believe I'm even asking this...'

'That's not how it works for me. Physical love does precisely nothing for a Dullahan. We reproduce in... other ways. Don't ask, it'd take too long to explain. No, what I want from you is more cerebral.'

'Oh, so you're like Lysithea,' Amy muttered bitterly. 'Great.'

'Not exactly. It'll be quicker to just show you. Close your eyes, and do not struggle. I mean that.'

Dulcimer's fingers flexed as Amy reluctantly closed her eyes. Immediately, she felt a pressure, building at the back of her head. She stiffened as the alien sensation spread through her; the cool, smooth fingers of the Dullahan encircled her own, keeping her still. The alien's touch was reassuring, almost warm.

'Let it happen.'

It was deeply disquieting, feeling the first probes of Dulsie's mind lapping against the shores of her consciousness. The walls of Amy's mind were being slowly eroded away to nothing, and there was very little she could do to stop it. Tendrils of alien thought wound their way into her brain, wrapped themselves around her; it wasn't an assault, more like she was being... overtaken. Dulcimer was efficient, yet surprisingly delicate. Amy soon found her fear leaving her; she could tell that whatever this was, it wouldn't cause her any pain if she let it happen.

Before everything went dark, Amy felt one last thought being sent to her, 'Now, you're going to feel extremely lightheaded, but just go with it. When you wake up... Everything will have changed.'

******************

Amy stepped out into the TARDIS control room, trying to look energetic and bouncy and not like she had just woken up. This kind of lying through body language had served her in good stead when she had worked as a kissogram.

'Good morning!' She waved to the Time Lord.

'It isn't,' The Doctor answered without looking up from the console. Slowly, he shuffled around the edge of it, prodding seemingly at random at its innards.

'What?'

'Morning. It's not morning. It's night,' He glanced up at her, just for a second. 'On the side of the planet we're orbiting. Night.'

'Don't be difficult,' Amy admonished, thinking about punching his shoulder but deciding against it. The shadow of the Byzantium, of the Weeping Angels and their aftermath... of what she had done, in her room, in her own time period, with the Doctor...

Physical contact with him was a bad idea, right now. It hadn't been a terribly long time since then, a matter of hours, really. And yes, she did feel bad about throwing herself at him like that, only moments after revealing to him that she was engaged. It wasn't fair to put him in a situation like that. But...

But, well, the question still hung between them. Sure, the alien had said all the right, honorable things and backed away. But there were moments- whole, hot moments- where he had kissed her back, where he had groaned and seemed to lose himself in her. And if he thought she hadn't noticed his hands on her ass for a good long time, he was nuts.

Amy stifled a naughty grin.

And failed.

Hey, she had backed off too... Eventually. But there was a reason she had kissed him at all; the memory of this man had been with her for much of her life. He had ascended to a kind of mythological status. Now, he was back, with his smile and his awkwardness and his skinny bad-self and his weird brain and his... his bowtie. He hadn't aged a day, but Amy certainly had.

She'd travelled in this strange blue box with its even stranger occupant for quite a while now, and she noticed things, particularly his ability to run, far and fast, and the odd, manic contortions of his long limbed form. To her, these denoted endurance and flexibility; both highly appealing characteristics, given the kinds of thoughts that were still swimming through her mind.

'So, where are we this time?' She asked, leaning against a free space on the control pillar. She wondered whether even the Doctor understood the chaotic array of blinking things, glowing things and... unnamable things that populated the TARDIS control console. Going on past experience, she doubted it.

As if to prove her point, the Doctor shrugged and launched into a long, wordy explanation on why it was impossible to tell where they currently were in time and space. To Amy, many of the words he was using sounded suspicious, possibly made up on the spot, or read in some alien fast food menu or something, retained in the Doctor's memory without context to be trotted out when he wanted to sound smart. No way was he talking exclusively about the TARDIS, that's for sure.

As she stood there, watching him, she felt a familiar stirring spread through her; that tiny voice that told her to act and damn the consequences. Her Doctor. Right there. And wherever they were, it was the future. Speaking objectively, Rory was... not here. He was somewhere else. Some other world, oh so far away from this one.

She was alone with her Doctor, spinning out in the void by some unknown world, and...

'Ah, screw it...'

With a hop and a step, she brought herself close to her Raggedy Doctor, soaring on wings of audacity. As completely uncool as that bowtie was, Amy had to admit that it did make a good handhold...

She had him by the collar, dragged him down, her mouth was against his...

And he recoiled, of course. Tried to push her away. But only momentarily. Only for as long as it took for her tongue to slide into his mouth. After that, it was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly she was kissing him, and he was kissing back, and for the first time Amy was completely sure that the Doctor was a man, and not some genderless thing made to look like one.

'No! No, no... You bloody humans!' Eventually, the Doctor pulled away breathlessly, shaking his head. 'What about Rory? You're getting married in the morning! I think we've been through this before!'

Amy's head tilted slightly, and she ensured that she was never truly out of physical contact with the steadily retreating man, 'Not this morning, specifically.'

She had backed him against the wall, her body pressed against his. She leaned in to kiss him again, but his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her away, 'What about Rory, Pond?'

Amy rolled her eyes. Why did this have to be so hard? Time to step it up.

The Doctor's back was still pressed against the wall, and so he had nowhere to go when Amy's hands snaked down to his belt buckle. She had always enjoyed sex, and so had developed a suite of skills to allow her to have it as quickly as possible, including the ability to undo a belt in as few moves as possible. There was the sound of leather sliding against fabric.

Amy giggled sexily as her hands returned to his chest, slowly slithering down as she dropped to her knees. Now was not the time for words, now was the time for action. The sight of her, on her knees and gazing up at him, gave the Doctor reason to pause, and Amy took the opportunity when it presented itself. She deftly drew his pants down, and without words or hesitation took his dick into her mouth.

Sure, it was incredibly brazen of her, definitely on its way to being slutty, but the soft sigh above her indicated that it was the right choice to make. Her tongue ran the underside of his cock, feeling it swell and fill her mouth. Her lips tightened on the shaft as the Doctor's hands fell, swinging and limp, to his sides. Her eyes flicked up; whatever else the Doctor was, he was definitely male, and... well, maybe it really had been a while.

If she thought about it, really considered, this was a long time coming for her, too. When young women reach a certain age they start thinking thoughts of a decidedly adult nature for the first time. In most cases, they would be about boys- or girls, Amy wasn't one to judge- that actually existed in physical space, where they could be accessed when it came time to act on those fantasies. For Amy Pond, those thoughts had first come featuring her Raggedy Doctor.

It was disconcerting in a way, finding yourself sexually attracted to your imaginary friend. But hell, the Doctor may not have been in her life for long, back then, but he had made an impact. And it felt good to think those thoughts about him, and as she had gotten older, become an adult, to use those thoughts to get off. She couldn't count the number of times she had cum envisioning...

Oh, but then there had been Rory, and that was great. But Amy couldn't deny that sometimes, when she was with him, she had a hard time stopping herself from saying an entirely different name. At least then, in those moments, that damn blue box was the farthest thing from her mind.

That was then, and this was now. Now was her and her Doctor, entirely alone and spinning out into nothingness. Beyond those twin wooden doors lay a completely different world, a new planet with an alien sky, with alien people and alien languages and a way of life that tiny little Amelia Pond couldn't even imagine. That was the addictive nature of the TARDIS. Beyond those doors was every damn thing a person could want.

Of course, the thing about doors is that they can stay closed until someone is ready to open them. Right now, with Amy Pond on her knees and the Doctor's mind lost and focused on an entirely separate piece of his anatomy... Nobody was ready.

Amy groaned softly as her head bobbed, mouth straining to take in more of the Doctor's length. From the look of him, the way his jaw was set tight and the way he occasionally lifted himself onto the tips of his toes to thrust deeper into her warm, wet mouth, Amy could tell that he was pretty far gone. He hadn't moved, and that was a good sign. He certainly could have tried, but he'd remained resolutely still, his back pressed against the wall of his time machine, fists now clenched at his side. Whenever she looked up at him, trying hard to keep her eyes wide and vulnerable-looking, he retained her gaze for a few seconds, shivered, and looked away.

Was he trying to assuage his guilt by imagining it wasn't her doing this? Well, that wouldn't do. Amy wondered, what can I do about that?

She swirled her tongue and pushed herself further down on the Doctor's shaft, moaning and looking up at him with her sexiest stare. He grunted, and finally acknowledged that she was there; one hand stroked through her hair. Now satisfied that things were working out okay, Amy released the Doctor from her mouth, leaned back on her haunches and gave him a lopsided grin.

'What about Rory?' He repeated, stammering. 'I can't believe I haven't got an answer for that yet...' He added for good measure.

Amy rolled her eyes. This again? 'He's not here, I've known you a lot longer than him, and besides, this is what I want, Doctor. What do you want?'

There was a pause, as the Time Lord thought. Seeing him struck silent like this was quite a shock; usually he would talk... ramble, really, until he eventually arrived at a satisfactory answer. At least, that was the way Amy, in all her youthful hero worship, had opted to interpret his motor mouth. The more logical explanation became apparent quite quickly after meeting the man; he liked the sound of his own voice.

If he wanted to chatter, that was perfectly fine by Amy. All that talking was the product of a nimble tongue, and there were plenty of alternative uses for one of them.

'I...' The Doctor tripped over his words, mouth twisting into a dissatisfied frown. The question in his mind was obvious based solely on his expression; what did he want? On her knees, after all that had just happened, Amy almost rolled her eyes; she hadn't exactly wanted deep, philosophical contemplation on her question.

'Um... Well,' His hands twitched, tapping incessantly against the wall that was still behind him. He tilted his head back until it hit the wall, eyes closed, 'Bloody humans...' He muttered, just within the range of Amy's hearing. All this internal turmoil was apparently allowing him to ignore the fact that his fly was still open and, after all Amy had done, he was still... well, hard. It wouldn't take much, and Amy went for the prize with gusto.

Her eyebrows arched into an expression of innocent puzzlement, and she bit her lower lip lightly, contriving to look as appealing as possible, 'Never seen you look like this before, Doctor... Don't you like me?' She teased, merciless in her precision manipulation.

'No, no, it's not...' He froze again, shook his head violently, the mental break almost audible, like a bone snapping. Everything in him tensed forward all at once, to the tune of five simple words, 'Oh, to hell with it...'

The Doctor pounced, and the word was appropriate because to Amy it signaled the arrival of an animal part of him that she had never experienced before. In one long, fluid sequence of motion, he swept forward, bundling Amy up in his arms and pushing forward until he hit the opposite wall, pressing his companion to it forcefully. She had been laughing, loudly, joyously, for as long as it had taken him to cross the limited curvature of the control room, but the sound morphed into a surprised exhalation as she hit the wall.

'Oh! Doctor!' She exclaimed, the first part in shock at the sudden change, the second a purr of delight as the Time Lord pressed her against the wall, hands sliding to her waist. Then she was silenced, as his mouth covered hers in a vibrant, passionate kiss that pretty much stopped her from doing anything but moaning into his mouth and responding as hotly as she could. She felt her knees go weak; damn, the guy could kiss when he wanted to!

There were no more words, no more cogent thoughts to be communicated, no more interesting moral dilemmas about sleeping with a woman who was engaged. There was just desire; The Doctor's lips on hers, breaking off the blistering kiss only to sink his teeth into her neck, an act that made her gasp suddenly and shudder. The Doctor's body, sinking against her own, the heat of him permeating down to her bones. The Doctor's hands, so skilled at working machines, finally taking a shot at something with more life, unbuckling her belt and sliding her jeans down inch after inch of toned, pale thigh. He growled in wordless passion, suddenly all business. The pretenses had finally dropped; when he had first swept her off her feet in the middle of the night, when she had been dressed in very little, this had been what she had thought would happen. Hoped would happen, if she was being brutally, Rory-disappointingly honest.

A fluttering, light as air moan escaped Amy's throat at the first, brief strokes between her legs. Normally, she would have preferred some degree of foreplay, but this, right now, was sex, not some flowery euphemism for the act. It was getting fucked. Satisfaction, the slaking of an old, stirring desire, and the plain old, highly addictive pleasures of the flesh. She squirmed under the Doctor's touch, as his fingers ringed her clit, but it was unnecessary. Seducing him, blowing him, even waiting on her knees while he puzzled over her, with increasingly elaborate fantasies of this exact moment running through her head, had made her wet and ready, aching for someone- one particular someone- to fill her.

'Just do it!' She gasped breathlessly as the Time Lord's index finger scraped against her labia. 'Please, I'm ready. I want you to... Please fuck me, my Doctor,' She purred in his ear, adding a little more fuel to the flames. They were steadily rising anyway, but he laughed roughly at her words.

'Okay, direct action!' The Doctor grinned, his hands on her hips lifting her bodily and pinning her off the ground, against the wall. Good lord, he was strong! 'I'm good with direct action!'

She felt her panties being drawn further down to accommodate this sudden positional shift, and then the heat of the Doctor's cock met her own dripping, wet core. He slid into Amy in a single, smooth motion, greased by the redhead's arousal and encouraged by her drawn out, unsteady whimper of satisfaction. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, screwing her eyes shut at the sheer sensation washing over her as he buried himself in her, their hips meeting at the termination of their union. For a moment, there was a heavy, organic silence, broken only by the panting of their breath. Both merely enjoyed the feeling of being together; Amy's pussy full of the Doctor's throbbing length, the two of them so close that nothing else mattered.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 05



In each of them, a thought formed. The same thought, expressing how nice it was to finally be here, doing this. To be having sex with the Doctor. To be inside Amy Pond. To be between those fabulous legs, to be touching her, to kiss her...

Oh, it had been easy for Amy, certainly. She had already admitted she wanted him. She'd had years to think about it, during that odd human maturation process. For him, the transition had been incredibly jarring; one minute he was eating fish custard with an adorable little Scottish girl, the next... Wham! Tall, leggy Scottish dynamo in a fetish costume... with an ass that looked incredible in a short skirt. And her own handcuffs, which was, well...

Who doesn't like a good pair of handcuffs?

Not to mention all that running around in short bloody skirts and tight bloody tops and all that bloody running which was bad enough normally but so much worse when you could easily notice things bouncing... It was enough to put certain thoughts in a man's head! And that's worse for a Time Lord, because at nine-hundred and seven years old it made him feel a tad... lecherous to be ogling a woman in her twenties. Damn her, did she ever look good, though!

A thing for redheads? Him? Yes, indeed...

Then it had been all "ooh, Doctor, I've got something to show you," and "I'm engaged," and "take me, Doctor!" and things had gotten extremely difficult to keep a handle on. It had taken all his self-control not to leap on her, back then, even if then was only a few hours ago. Especially since there were certain functions of a sonic screwdriver that he knew about that could keep her writhing for a good, long time, and... Oh my, was that ever fun to think about, even if she was Amy Pond. Engaged Amy Pond.

Engaged, young Amy Pond.

Engaged, young, incredibly attractive, redheaded Amy Pond, who owned a number of skimpy costumes, had a relaxed attitude to sex and wanted him.

Yes.

It was a chain of thought like that one that had led him to his current position, pushing her up against a wall with her pants on the floor and himself balls deep inside her. All in all, there were worse ways for that chain of thought to pan out, most of them involving euphemisms for this precise act, but performed alone.

Amy smiled, shifted slightly, still being held aloft between the Doctor's body and the wall. Instinctively, her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, ankles crossing on the other side, effectively entwining the pair. Her hips moved, undulating against the wall, pushing a few inches of his hardness in and out of her sopping cunt.

'Well, this is nice,' She whispered hotly, in his ear. Her lips brushed his cheek, a teasing little flick of the tongue making him shiver, 'This is nice, isn't it?'

The Doctor nodded, furiously, 'Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes. It is, yes. Definitely.' A finger traced the curve of Amy's perfect, pale hip, and she rewarded him with a deep, probing kiss, soft lips almost vacuum sealed around the Time Lord's. Both grunted in satisfaction.

It was an odd moment, the first time you fuck a friend. When you spend enough time hanging out with someone, particularly in the kinds of situations the Doctor got them into, you acquire a certain familiarity; suddenly being naked with them, there's so much to absorb. There was a degree of awkwardness in the discovery, but if done right...

Amy gave a shallow sigh of pleasure as the Doctor began moving inside her; initial slow strokes, almost exploratory in nature, pushing deeply into her. He rolled his hips, conscious that, with the kind of build-up that Amy had given him, any real increase in speed would make this a rather short encounter. He couldn't remember the last time he had... Well, yes he could, but that was a different time. A different him. Different body. These parts hadn't even had a bloody road test, yet.

He had forgotten how good this could feel... His entire being narrowed down, away from Time Lord concerns, away from the TARDIS and all of time and space. His mind was focused, his whole animal existence, was on Amy; on the warmth of her body, her tiny sounds of pleasure, the rather pleasant scent of her hair. Mostly, on that tiny, soft, slick wet hole between her legs as it stretched to take his cock, hugging him tightly. So warm... yes, this was worth all the doubt that would come later.

Amy shuddered as the Doctor's hands gripped and steadied her hips, allowing him to withdraw from her almost completely before burying his length back inside her dripping pussy. Her face had flushed red and she bit her lip, muscles tensing as the hot weight coiled in her belly began to unwind into an all-over pleasure in time with the increasingly forceful fucking. She opened her legs wider, bucking her hips back against him and beginning to moan, rhythmically, at every inward thrust.

She was on fire, her body melting into his, mind further clouded with lust with every second. Her eyes closed, head tipping back as she allowed the sensations to wash over her, body trembling. She was dimly aware of the Doctor's hand leaving her hips to lift her shirt up over the curve of her breasts, her bra pulled down seemingly in the same motion. Fingers circled one pink nipple, already tight and erect with arousal. She gasped, bolts of heat shooting from breast to pussy in seconds. Her cunt pulsed around the Doctor's dick; they both groaned in pleasure.

Their fucking intensified as any pretense of rationality completely fell away, replaced with the ecstasy of sex and the rush of impending orgasm. Amy's skin shone with sweat and burned red hot, breasts bouncing and toes curling as the Doctor fucked her, driving deep into her sopping, pulsing cunt. His hips pressed against her at the termination of every thrust, tapping her fizzing clit and making her shiver.

She whimpered, long and low in her throat as she felt her orgasm approach, closer and closer with each passing second. Her own hand drifted lower, index finger brushing her clit to push herself over the edge. It hit her, hard, and she craned her neck to kiss the Doctor, pressing her mouth into his mainly in an attempt to stop herself from screaming with the boiling sensation sweeping through her. She was cumming, and it was like fire burning in her, exploding through her again and again; she moaned into the Doctor's mouth, causing him to blink in surprise and kiss back even harder than before.

Amy's hair fell to one side in a ginger curtain as she trailed wet, sucking kisses down the side of his face and his neck, giggling girlishly as her orgasm faded and left her with a feeling of deep satisfaction and completion. She still twitched occasionally as the Doctor continued to screw her, aftershocks rippling through her. A thought occurred, and a wicked one at that. She froze, her lips mere inches from his ear, and blew a gust of hot breath down his neck, 'Your turn...' She purred as seductively as possible. 'You can do it in me, if you want. That's fine.'

The Doctor growled wordlessly, Amy felt him spasm inside her, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust deeply within her, pumping his cum into her sweltering, red, dripping pussy. She shuddered to feel it filling her up.

Sweating, panting and undeniably satisfied, the pair sank to the floor of the TARDIS, backs to the cool, flat wall for support. One pale, long fingered hand traced along Amy's fringe, tucking a few displaced strands of hair back into place before moving to run her fingers through the orange mass itself. She exhaled a long, explosive breath that rippled with satisfied, audacious laughter. She looked down; her clothes were in a tangled pile beside her, looking almost ridiculous given the high-tech nature of her surroundings.

'Wow...' She sighed, 'Okay, you can't deny that what we just did was a whole lot of fun.'

The Doctor glanced sidelong at Amy before ducking his head slightly to one side, 'Well, yes, that's true.' He said with a shade of reluctance, 'Even though I still don't know what it all means...'

Amy rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in recent memory. This man was supposed to be centuries old; by now he had to know that searching for meaning was kind of pointless...

She tousled his hair, a little roughly, 'It doesn't have to mean anything! It can just be a bit of fun, Doctor! Do you remember what that's like?'

'I have fun!' He answered back, a little quickly and a lot affronted. 'We have fun! Don't we? Every time we open those doors we have fun!'

'That's not fun, that's running. At most, it's... I dunno, adventure, or something,' Amy shrugged. 'But this... Did you enjoy it?'

A pause, and then, almost guiltily, 'Yeah...'

'And nobody even had to chase us!' She poked him. 'Nobody died. Isn't that better? Even if I'm...'

Another pause, this one awkward. Even if I'm engaged...

She shouldn't have even begun to say that.

Suddenly, a violent tremor rocked the room; the TARDIS bucked as though in seizure. Normally more descriptive terms would come to mind readily for either of the occupants, but when a ship that had essentially survived the universe imploding relatively intact starts shaking like a snow globe in a paint mixer, which is itself in the middle of a nuclear explosion, florid prose is rarely high on the agendas of the occupants of said ship.

'That didn't feel good!' Amy said as the tremor resolutely refused to stop, and in fact grew stronger. 'This isn't good, right?'

'This isn't good, Pond!' The Doctor shot back, already on his feet and moving to the control column. He scanned the display, 'In fact, one might say that this is fatally not good! Double-Plus Ungood!'

'What?'

'I don't know what's going on, but judging from these rather... alarming readings, we are probably going to die from it. Yes.'

'What?!'

'Time to wake up, Amy. Sort of... Well, not... Eh, you'll see.'

'What was that?'

'What was what?'

'That big... voice... Thingy,' Amy shrugged. 'What, you're seriously not hearing that?'

He shot her an odd look, 'Amy, I've got slightly more important things to deal with, over here. Vainly struggling to prevent... Something from happening, for one.'

'This might be fun for you, but for me it's painfully bland. This is what I get for being gentle, I suppose. Come now, don't dawdle.'

'There it is again!' Amy cast her eyes around, searching for a sound that wasn't really anywhere. This was beginning to get seriously unsettling.

The Doctor opened his mouth to rebuke his companion for distracting him- in what he was beginning to refer to as the less pleasant, less naughty way- but he stopped dead when every light, sound and movement in the TARDIS stopped all at once.

He stopped dead in a much more literal way when the walls crunched, buckled, and then collapsed inward, letting in a brilliant view of the stars burning in the heavens and, far more importantly, letting out all the air and occupants.

The world blurred, faded. So, this was dying...

'Not quite. This is just the beginning,' It was Dulcimer's voice, Amy realized. 'It's time to wake up, Amy Pond.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 06



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi again! Once more, I don't have a huge amount of stuff to say, so I'll just get right to it!

Many thanks to Isabel for her initial editing and creative input, and to Allyourbase for the same, as well as giving me some interesting ideas for future chapters...

Votes, comments and feedback are entirely appreciated. Enjoy!

Kurokami

***************

There weren't a whole lot of things to do, on Trismestigius.

Yes, it was an entire moon with its own ecosystem. But there weren't really that many people living there; just the seven person crew, the A.I and latterly Amy. No people, no civilization, not a lot of things to do.

And for Sander, for Mara, for Kanaria and Tsugi that was fine. They had their work to do; keeping the Engine, the A.I, the whole base operating properly. Lysithea seemed quite happy doing nothing, just sitting still and listening to her Chorus. She was an odd one. And Dulcimer meditated. A lot.

But where did that leave Ren? She was the mechanic; if nothing was broken, she was left hanging. She only really had a job here when things went wrong, or when Sander wanted her to build something. That was fine, back when the Engine was being built and she could work for most of the day. These days...

These days, she mostly just exercised.

Right now, she was lifting weights. Heavy ones. This would take up much of her morning.

It had been a long, long time since she'd actually needed to exercise, but she had kept it up after coming here. When you do something for so long that it becomes routine, it's hard to give it up for no reason, and besides, she liked it. She'd feel bad if she stopped, in more ways than one.

Ren kept her body in peak condition, and that was saying something; her less than human origin made her a powerhouse under normal circumstances. Like this, she could comfortably bend steel. At a dead sprint, she had a top speed of seventy miles per hour, and that had been measured scientifically. Three times, since nobody could believe the readings. It was almost ridiculous, they'd said. Like she was operating under Roadrunner physics.

Still, none of that really mattered; she could do it, that was what mattered. No use complaining that it "beggared belief," or whatever. She grunted to herself, lifting the solid metal bar up into the bracket above her with minimal effort. Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head, working out the tension in her muscles and returning to a loose, swinging posture.

It wasn't that she had a problem with living here; living like this. It was downright peaceful, really. If there was nothing for her to do, then there was nothing wrong. It would be strange to wish for something bad to happen, just to occupy her time.

As if in answer to her train of thought, there was a knock at her door. Her head tilted to one side.

'Huh. That's... ominous,' She muttered to herself. 'It's open! Get in here!'

The door slid to one side, revealing Tsugi on the other side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. When he caught sight of Ren, he didn't smile, but his jaw did set in a peculiar way. He slipped into the room, 'Hi.'

'Tsugi-chan!' Ren grinned. 'What's up?'

He stood, close to the door, making sure to close it before speaking. His eyes bored into Ren's, looking for something, 'Do you know where I come from, Ren? My homeworld?'

'No, Tsu, I don't.'

'I come from Uo.'

To her credit, Ren didn't move. Her expression didn't change, aside from the slow fade of her smile. One hand drifted up to take hold of her chin, fingers rubbing absently up and down her jaw, 'Shit.'

'I know what you are, Ren,' Tsugi's voice was flat. 'I know what you are.'

'You could have told me you were there,' She snapped, a little too savagely. 'I would have... Fuck, Tsu-kun!'

'Come on, Ren!' Tsugi closed his eyes with a pained expression. 'Did you really think you were anonymous now? When I was a kid, you were always on TV, in the official broadcasts. Everyone from Uo has seen your face, and everyone there has an opinion of the Half in the government. Remember what they used to call you?'

Ren groaned, tipped her head back and closed her eyes, 'Sagara's pet. The Royal's guard dog. The Butcher. Yeah, I remember.'

'Well, as far as I'm concerned... Goddamn it, I'm not here for that!' Tsugi's palm slammed against the unyielding metal of the wall with a resounding slap. 'You're Ren, not the Butcher. I've known you for three years, you're my friend. My parents were loyalists, so you're alright by me. That's in the past. But I've got to know: is there anyone chasing you? Can they find you here?'

'No,' Her voice quavered, just slightly. It was clear this was a painful topic for her, 'Not the way I left. Have you told anyone else?'

'No, Ren, I haven't. You should have. I debated for a long time whether I should, which led me here. There are a lot of people out there who hate you enough to want to kill you,' Tsugi sighed, stepping across the room as he talked. 'If they found you, it'd be like the Vesperian government finding Sander. It'd be bad.'

He reached out and laid a hand on Ren's shoulder, shaking his head as he did so. She twitched at the sudden contact, almost shied away from it. His fingers squeezed gently, and then they were gone. Her eyes widened; she found herself almost missing his touch.

'Just so you know, I'm not going to apologize,' She said softly. 'That's my crap, there. Mine. I'll deal with it myself, if it ever becomes an issue,' The next part came slowly, as if she had to draw it out from some deep, hidden part of herself. 'But, for what it's worth, I'm glad I never... Never hurt you.'

'So am I,' Tsugi seemed more irritated then angry. But there was conviction in those words, tinged with a kind of bitterness that stung Ren to hear it. 'I'm not going to tell anyone. God knows, you've had enough trouble with your past without me bringing it all up again in front of our friends. I just wanted you to know that I knew. You are not alone, in that knowledge.'

Without another word, he went to the door, and something made him pause. He turned back with an unreadable expression, 'One last thing. The... the creature, with the metal skin. What was it?'

'Tsugi-chan...' Ren admonished. 'We both know that thing doesn't exist. The government said so.'

'They say a lot of things I don't believe. I saw it once, Ren. From the look in your eyes when I brought it up, so have you. At first I thought it was a robot, but I've seen robots. They don't move like that. And they don't survive direct hits from Lancer-class charged particle beams like it did. It was years ago, but I'd appreciate it if you'd put my curiosity to rest. What was it, you think?'

'I don't know,' Ren said quietly, shrugging her shoulders. 'I honestly don't. I wish I did.'

'Okay then. Remember what I said, Ren,' Tsugi smiled. 'You aren't alone here.'

The door closed. Ren remained motionless. For several minutes, everything was still.

'Fuck!' She screamed suddenly, the sound drawing out into a wordless shriek of anger and following her as she leaped from her seat, lashing out at the closest wall with one bare foot. There was an immense, sonorous bang as her foot impacted the wall; it faded slowly, like the sound of a gong, as she lowered her foot gingerly to the floor.

There was a deep, uneven dent in the metal where the kick had landed.

*************

'So, I introduced Amy to Dulsie.'

Mara gave a little giggle and pressed her back more firmly into Sander's chest. She shook her head, amusement twinkling in her eyes, 'Oh, that's funny, my love.'

Sunlight played across the two of them, filtered through the dark red leaves of the large tree they say under. Sander's back was tilted against the hard bark of the trunk, while Mara lay against him, seated between his splayed legs. Both of them were reading from actual, printed books; a rarity in a world of screens and wires. But Sander had always liked the feel of real paper in his hands, with words printed in concrete form, and moments like these deserved to have everything happen in a certain way. To have everything happen right.

Moments like these, he could almost forget himself. He could almost be normal.

When he had designed the layout of their bedroom, Sander had made sure to include a spot like this out on the balcony, away from everything else. Just for the two of them. Out here, under the tree, with a breeze coming in off the sea and tousling Mara's hair in that perfect, oh so attractive way, they were totally alone. There were no cameras installed out here, no listening bugs or holograms. It was even the only spot on the moon that Jericho could not see. It was their haven.

This tree was a little worse for wear because of that. Numerous branches and leaves had been torn off during the pair's rougher, passionate, carefree moods. If this tree could talk, it would have stories to tell.

Once, on a lazy afternoon, Mara had gotten bored and carved into the bark, just above where Sander's head was now, a large cartoon heart with an arrow through it; inset in the carving were their initials: S & M.

Both of them had found that hilariously appropriate.

'Do you remember our first time with Dulsie, Mara?' Sander asked absently, turning the page on George Orwell's classic, 1984. It was his favorite book; he'd always quite liked that O'Brien chap.

'I do,' Mara shrugged, deeply engrossed in World War Z. 'How could I forget?' She gave a playful shiver, 'We should do that again, sometime.'

'Next time, we'll have Amy to play with too,' Sander grinned. 'In more ways than one.'

'Very true.'

Sander exhaled a satisfied breath, leaning back a little farther, his free hand toying absently with the ends of Mara's hair. He thought of the future; of what the Eternity Engine was bringing to him, of what Dulcimer would find, and of the games that lay ahead of him. He thought of the Doctor, as one by one his friends disappeared from the timeline. As his world grew a little smaller with each passing day.

All of that was exciting. He grinned wider, showing altogether too many teeth. His eyes drifted away from the words on the page.

'Gonna be fun.'

***************

She was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor. The floor of her old house, in Leadworth. She should have felt relieved, but didn't. There were too many things wrong with this picture.

For one, Dulcimer was sitting opposite her, mirroring her position. That was cause enough for alarm.

'Did you have fun?' That same chilled, silent voice in her head.

'I... Ugh,' Amy rubbed at her temples and shifted restlessly. 'I don't understand. I died...'

'Yes, I was rather impressed with that myself,' Dulcimer applauded, but without a face it was hard to tell whether she was doing so sarcastically. 'Nice attention to detail. You're a natural.'

'I don't understand,' Amy repeated. Her head seemed filled with cotton, and besides that she clearly remembered dying. That sort of thing has an impact on a person.

'Mental contextualization,' Dulsie sighed. 'Your subconscious mind felt me pulling you out of your fantasy, and it reacted. Built my presence into the image. Not many people can do that. You've had experience with this kind of thing before. Now, what was it... The Dream Lord, right?'

'I don't understand!' Amy hissed, teeth grinding together. 'You need to explain this to me! What happened to me?'

'Wasn't that familiar to you at all?' Dulcimer sent, rocking on her haunches. 'It was YOUR fantasy, after all.'

Amy stiffened. She had the increasingly familiar feeling of being observed by an immeasurably intelligent, perceptive being that could see through her like she was made of glass. Dulcimer did not move, she didn't have to; there was no question. No doubt in either of them that that had been something Amy had thought up. Something she had wanted.

'You are providing everything that we experience here. I cannot create anything new, just introduce you to scenarios that you have already created. I must admit though, you are very good at this. Did you notice how, at the end, you were providing complex motivation for the Doctor-simulacrum too? You must have felt that, subconsciously. Providing a second internal monologue... That is impressive.'

'We're-'

'Inside your head. Yes. It's a trick I can do. I can pull you into your own thoughts, focus in on specific ones and build whole worlds out of them,' The Dullahan's hands rested in her lap, fingers tracing the skin above her wrist. 'Specifically, I'm interested in your fantasies. Your sexy ones,' Amy could almost feel the grin on the alien's non-existent face. 'And frankly there's a lot of them in your pretty little head, dear. All very interesting, and I look forward to experiencing them with you.'

'What in God's name are you talking about?' Amy growled, failing to keep the disbelief out of her voice. 'I'm... This is real, isn't it?'

'Focus. You can see the seams, if you look close enough,' Dulcimer pointed to the nearest window. Sunlight streamed in, but that seemed to be the extent of it. There was nothing else; no matter how Amy moved, the glare of the sun completely obscured the world outside. It filled her with an oddly hollow feeling, seeing such a familiar environment completely torn apart; everything of value, every memory she had of it surgically removed. Her home, reduced to its barest skeleton.

And outside of this falsity, captivity awaited. Beyond the walls of her imaginings lay only her cell, and Sander, and Mara, and whoever else they happened to drag into this game of theirs. She blinked back tears; it was cruel, having to sit here now. The terrible illusion of freedom.

'Yes. I can,' She whispered, eyes downcast.

'If you don't like the scenery, you can change it,' Dulcimer cut to the heart of the matter. 'But that's for later. This is just a holding loop, so I don't have to completely take you out of your receptive state. We're going to move on, now. I saw some interesting things deeper in your mind. Hidden, like you were trying to bury them. Actually, I saw one dream about Ren, which I'd like to try. Sounds fun, even if you did only meet her yesterday. Naughty girl, you.'

Amy felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.

'Yes, I can see that,' Dulcimer sent. 'You can try to deny it, you can say whatever you like, but I cannot create. Everything we see, hear or feel in this place comes from your mind.'

There was a moment of silence, a pregnant pause as Amy tried not to twitch or betray her thoughts to the implacable alien before her. Dulcimer sat calmly, utterly still, allowing the girl time with her thoughts, with the pain of realization and the question that had plagued her, more and more, since she had come here:

What is wrong with me?

'Sometimes the mind creates ideas against its own better judgment,' The Dullahan spoke, voiceless voice spreading through Amy's mind almost kindly, gentleness tempered by a clinical tone that was vaguely uncomfortable to listen to. 'You can feel bad about it, you can feel ashamed, but you can't change it, you see?'

'I...'

'Ah, but that's for another time. I'm a lot of things, but I am not a psychologist. My knowledge is a little more... instinctual. I won't bother asking if you're ready to go,since you won't remember all this once you're in, so... Shall we?'

The world fizzed and fell away. Slowly, Dulcimer stood in the inky blackness that now surrounded them, and turned to walk away. One hand rose, waved Amy off.

'See you around.'

*****************

'So then,' Ren's voice hissed in her ear, the temperature of her breath seeming to sear the skin of her neck. 'What do I do with you, little girl?'

Amy shuddered, tried to shy away, but the cuffs locking her wrists together made that difficult. Ren's hand pushed between Amy's shoulder blades, keeping her pinned face down to the bed; her free and gripped the chain connecting the cuffs and tugged, pulling Amy's pinioned shoulders painfully high. The Half possessed shocking strength, and Amy cried out in discomfort, ceasing her struggles.

There was the sound of Ren's satisfied, breathy sigh from above as she reveled in the sheer control she was wielding. Amy's skin crawled at every maddening, sickly soft touch of the elder Syfte's fingers on the bare skin of her back. That soft skin was misleading; Amy knew from experience the terrible strength her current captor had. It had only taken her a few moments to roughly strip her completely and tie her down, muscles like iron brooking no opposition.

'Silent type, Amy-hime?' Ren mocked. 'No suggestions? Requests?' A single, taunting finger, running down Amy's spine. 'What do you want me to do to you, hmm? I can think of some things, but I'm always open to creative input...'

She tried for stoic, she really did, but Amy's shoulders twitched visibly in irritation. She stayed silent, glaring straight ahead at the solid white wall Ren's bed sat against, but still she twitched at the invasive, exploratory touches. The last time Ren had done this to her, it had been rushed, heated and heedless. There hadn't been time, in the moment, to explore her captive, to prolong the experience. It had basically been one long rush to orgasm.

But now? Now, there was all the time in the world to enjoy the lovely, redheaded slave. Plenty of time to partake of Amy's highly appealing carnal delights, and...

Well, Ren was gonna fuck her. Yeah.

'Okay, fine, if you're not gonna play with me, then I'll just have to play with you,' Ren shrugged. 'But for the rest of the night, you're going to do exactly as I say, Amy-hime.'

Again, the struggle to remain silent. Anger flowed through Amy, powerfully distracting and willing her to say something, anything to give the woman above her some minimal grief. But it wouldn't do her any good and besides, Ren completely terrified her. It had something to do with the way she carried herself, the way she moved and spoke, the way her muscles shifted when she looked at her; as if she had to physically stop herself from tearing Amy apart, moment by moment. This woman was a goddamn wolf on a fraying leash, and right now, when they were all alone, the fact that she was still Sander's favorite plaything didn't guarantee her safety.

Fingers wound through her hair, forcing her head roughly down into the sheets, 'I got you something...' Ren growled, and Amy could practically feel the sharpness of her grin. Her skin crawled.

Something trailed down the smooth, pale skin of her back, moving in winding, leisurely curves, going progressively lower. Instinctively, Amy struggled to raise her head, see what was going on; Ren's fingers curled tighter, tugging painfully at her hair and forcing her back down. She couldn't help but cry out. Ren chuckled.

'Damn this is fun!' She teased, the unseen object in her hand prodding Amy sharply in the back, just above the taut curvature of her ass. Slowly, it made its way lower, down her trembling haunches and between her legs. Above her, Ren let out a long, hissing breath, tempered with laughter that, frankly, qualified as evil.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 06



The back of Ren's hands pushed at the insides of Amy's thighs, 'Spread 'em.' Roughly, her legs were pulled apart, Ren's fingers stroked gently between them. Amy shuddered at the feather soft, teasing caresses. Ren sighed in satisfaction, 'Let's get you wet, girl.'

Amy tried not to be affected. She tried hard. As Ren tugged and stroked at her outer lips, she gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes closed and stayed as still as possible. As her clit was poked and prodded with Ren's characteristic roughness, her thighs twitched only slightly. She whimpered, but only for a second. As an insistent index finger slid inside her, she groaned just once. But it was a positively herculean effort.

And in any case, it wasn't one Amy could keep up for long. Ren's alien skin was so soft, it tickled so much, every touch was electric. As much as she hated to admit it, when Ren touched her it felt good. Her cheeks flushed red hot as Ren fingered her, and she shuddered despite herself.

'Ah, this is almost too easy, Amy-hime!' Ren burst out laughing. 'All I have to do is touch you and you start moanin' and twitchin', almost fuckin' me back! This is so much fun!'

Talking would be pointless, Amy knew. Ren wasn't a reasonable person; that had already been pretty much proven in the cell where they had first met. In fact, counting on mercy from anyone here would be an exercise in futility. Still, the desperate, fearful part of Amy's mind compelled her to speak up, if only to show that she wouldn't go willingly.

'Ren... Please, don't- ugh!' The words were torn from her throat as something hard and unyielding was pushed between her legs, up into her rapidly dampening pussy. Ren laughed, again, the sound quickly becoming infuriating.

'This little guy's a piece from my personal collection,' An ear to ear grin split Ren's face, and she leaned in close, intruding into Amy's field of vision. Amy shot her an odd look in return, causing Ren to raise an eyebrow and shrug, 'What? I've been living here for three years, Amy-hime. A girl's gotta get off sometimes, eh? I don't have San-chan like Mara-chi does, there isn't a lot of choice! What, am I gonna go to Ly-kun and-' She paused her defensive rant, before adding, 'Actually... Huh...'

She tilted her head to one side, apparently considering the possibility intently. Suddenly, she shook her head, hair flowing around her, and turned back to her squirming captive. It was clear that Amy was attempting to dislodge the intrusive device between her legs, thighs shaking with the effort. Ren grinned and giggled.

'Nuh-uh, Amy-hime,' She leaned in close with a sharp edged smile. 'How do you think that's gonna work? No, I don't care whether you enjoy this or not, but I am gonna make you cum, little girl.'

Amy twitched, suddenly; the base of the object between her legs had been twisted, and it had started vibrating strongly, deep within her. The sensation washed over her, took her breath away. She shuddered, every muscle tightening and shaking at the sudden, powerful heat that bloomed in her.

'I hope you're prepared for some extreme fun, Amy-hime.'

The device, the toy.... Whatever it was, it worked its way inside her, pressing against her sensitive walls. Some small part of it extended out from the base, ending in a vaguely pointed piece that poked at her clit whenever she shifted her hips, sending tiny, sharp edged shards of pleasure rocking through her. She groaned, a long, plaintive sound of helplessness; despair at her situation expressed in a single sound.

When she looked back, her view was dominated by Ren standing over her, mouth split into a set, harsh grin of enjoyment, almost feral in its sheer, revelatory pleasure. One hand lay in the small of her back, fingers pressed firmly into the soft, pliable flesh to be found there. It kept her pinned, her cuffs kept her restrained; there was nothing to be done but wait, hopelessly, as the thing buzzing inside her did its work with the true inexorability of a machine.

Ren must have touched the toy, because slowly, terribly, it withdrew, sliding out of her increasingly wet tunnel. Every movement sent the vibrations twisting through her in a peculiar way, stimulating random areas of her cunt in particular. It made her shiver, harder than before, with the tiniest of moans.

Thus, a rhythm was set; Ren would slowly withdraw the damp toy, letting it pulse down the length of Amy's pussy. Then, just as the captive was becoming accustomed to the feeling of emptiness, she would thrust it back into place with shocking rapidity. The external piece would then press against her clit, her entire cunt would be stimulated all at once, and she would cry out involuntarily. This would cause Ren to remark on how sweetly she screamed, and the cycle would repeat. The effect on Amy's body was cumulative, heat layered upon heat, coiling and uncoiling deep inside her. Soon, her body boiled, hanging on the edge of orgasm.

Shamefully, she shuddered. She closed her eyes and pushed her hips hack against the toy with every inward thrust. Inside, she rebelled, but that tiny, animalistic, traitorous part of Amy Pond hungered for the stimulation, desired the fiery pleasure that Ren could provide whether she wanted it or not. She trembled at the pressure building in her gut, waiting as Ren once again withdrew the buzzing, twitching device. The control had been completely ripped from her hands; on the next inward thrust, she would cum.

She waited, repulsion and lust warring in her mind, for that last slicing thrust to obliterate her resistance. Her cheeks flushed red, but she knew that when it came she would lose herself in her body; a hostage to the sensations Ren was forcing upon her. She waited, feeling for all the world like a woman hanging from the edge of a cliff face.

Dimly, she was aware of the laughter bubbling up from Ren's throat, amused and undeniably vicious. She didn't know why she was laughing, but prior experience told her that it didn't bode well for her. At the edge of her vision, Amy saw Ren's hand wind up, rise up high, and...

Pain exploded through her hindquarters as the slap descended, impacting with her ass with a distressingly loud, organic sound. Amy cried out, her voice cracking with a rough expulsion of sound, shocked and in pain. Ren had hit her hard; she had felt the force of the blow resound up her tailbone and hips. A deep red mark had already appeared on her otherwise milky skin. Her head tipped back, shooting Ren a venomous, hate-filled glare.

'What?' Ren's shoulders shook with silent laughter. 'You think I was gonna make this easy for you, slut? Fuck no! Ain't a walk in the fuckin' park, being here! Certainly isn't when I'm playing with you! Master likes to prolong the experience, Amy-hime,' She moved in closer, brought her face next to Amy's. 'Don't cum. Not until I say otherwise. You'd find the consequences of disobedience entirely unpleasant.'

Every second that passed took her orgasm farther out of her reach, and Amy's rational mind, quickly reasserting itself, was thankful for that. Yet this was a tiny victory; it wouldn't last for long and anyway, it was playing right into Ren's hands. That ever familiar sensation of cold dread mixing with shame and lust hit her at full force. This was not going to be pleasant.

Grinning widely, Ren pushed the vibrator back into Amy's pussy, movements slow and deliberate, prolonging the torment. In seconds, with the sensations washing over her again, Amy was reduced to trembling and pushing her hips back down against the toy. Her jaw set, she was determined not to make a sound that would betray her.

Ren fucked her slowly and deeply, each stroke a terrible weight on Amy's rational mind. The pain of Ren's slap had done much to alleviate her unwanted arousal, but she hadn't been given nearly enough time for it to dissipate completely. The vibrations stoked a deep, abiding heat between Amy's legs; she tried hard to contain her desire, biting down on the moans bubbling up in her throat.

With every inward thrust the exterior of the vibrator touched cruelly against her clit, shocking pleasure tearing through her hard enough to weaken her knees. Her legs slipped, she hung limply against the bed. Her jaw went from being set to being teeth-grindingly tight. It wasn't just helpless dread and heat now; there was anger, too. Impotent, futile anger, but at least it was there. The spark hadn't gone out.

Of course, nothing could stop her body responding to what was being done to it. Her mind might rally against it, but inevitably the demands of the flesh won out; if there was one lesson that Amy had learned from her captivity, it was that the mind is the plaything of the body. And more importantly, and far, far more depressingly, her body was the plaything of Ren.

Her arms were still locked behind her back, she could feel the muscles in her back draw tighter as the Half continued to fuck her in slow, calculated strokes. However unwillingly, she was being dragged back into the traitorous heat of her body, to the precipice of orgasm. Her heart beat faster, humiliation flooded her in a hot wave; it was bad enough that this was having an effect on her, it was worse that Ren could tell. By this point, she could feel her own wetness trickle down her thigh; that same thigh quaked in time with the waves of pleasure blowing through her.

Soon, she reached the tipping point, that mindless, will-melting edge so close to cumming that a single twitch could send her over it. Her pride meant nothing, she bucked her hips with desperate fervor back against the intrusive device, only to find herself humping air. She whimpered, dangling at the border of ecstasy, so fucking close...

'No no, not yet,' Ren growled, drawing her hand back. The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room, as Ren spanked Amy's ass with hideously strong, resounding blows. The pain tore her away from the ache of impending climax, sending that elusive feeling spinning off elsewhere. It was a lens through which every sensation in her body was magnified; her desire burned brighter, the wet, disappointingly empty walls of her cunt clenched, her muscles twitched. That strange, soft skin of Ren's, once so agonizingly gentle, was now just agonizing, sending hot needles of pain through her backside.

By the time her captor was finished, Amy's breath was coming in harsh, sharp exhalations. Her face had turned bright red, and the same effect had been achieved on her butt, too. To her eternal shame, Amy's juices had begun to flow freely sometime during her spanking, down the insides of her thighs and glistening on her red, distended lips. Her teeth ground together; the worst part was the effect all this was having in her head. The sheer frustration at her position, the pain of Ren's punishments... None of this was having an effect on the sweltering wave of desire flowing through her. Horribly, it seemed to intensify it.

'Just so you know, I'm not going to let you cum until you beg me to, Amy-hime,' Ren said, voice dripping confidence. She rolled her shoulders, 'And I'm not going to accept any "oh, pretty please, Miss Ren,"' She affected a high pitched, mocking tone. 'I want it to be heartfelt.'

'Yeah, is that what you want?' Amy snarled, the words coming before she could think them through. 'Go to hell!'

She cried out as the vibrator penetrated her again, her pussy clenching in waves. Her whole body spasmed as the buzzing plastic hit her clit. In the end, she was a slave to her body. Trapped in the flesh.

'Deeper and deeper into trouble, dear,' Ren shook her head sharply. 'You'll beg.'

It seemed an eternity. The torment seemed to go on and on. There was a clock, in the room, but Ren had positioned her so that she couldn't see it. Amy had no way of knowing how long Ren kept her there, cycling through interminable, unwanted stimulation and painful spanking. After a while, duration ceased to matter; her arousal rose, higher and higher, waves of boiling heat lapping against the shores of her mind. It was so hard to think... At a certain point, her body started working on automatic. With the vibrator buried in her cunt, Amy's hips would buck down at every inward thrust, fucking herself on the buzzing dildo. But it was never enough to get her over that line, to force that final contraction of ecstasy that she came to need more and more with every cycle.

The spankings were bad, her ass was probably red raw by now, but it did very little to distract her from the need to cum. Her vision practically blurred in those first few moments after the vibrator was wrested away from her; it was almost a feeling of starvation, in those few moments, so close to the edge it was painful in its own right. And then came the first blow, always a complete shock to the system, even when she knew it was coming. Like being dumped in cold water... assuming that it was swimming in aphrodisiacs. The pure lust filtering through Amy's head was all consuming. Nothing seemed able to make it fade.

Her entire being contracted down into her dripping, flooded cunt. Her fizzing, needy clit. Her throbbing, painful ass. She had lost count of how many times the cycle had repeated after nine. Nine times brought to that increasingly painful edge and then roughly torn away and she knew that logically the next number was ten but after a certain point it stopped mattering how many times it had happened. The only thing that mattered now was when it would stop.

And she knew how to make it stop, as dissatisfying as that was. Pride was one thing, but she knew enough about how this went; it didn't matter what she wanted. Ren would win out, in the end. Because she could keep this up for a good long time, she enjoyed this too much to really want to stop. Amy could try to hold it in, but it wouldn't last. Her physicality would drag her down, ultimately.

The vibrator, glistening in a sheen of her juices, split her lips and delved into her again. She gritted her teeth against the growl of pleasure that escaped her throat, hips driving down as hard as possible in the hopes of tripping her trigger, finally getting that long awaited orgasm and letting this show end. In the back of her mind was the inescapable fact that Ren had ordered her not to cum without permission, but this far out, she didn't even care. She would take any punishment Ren could dish out.

Her moans turned into a wail of frustration and disappointment as Ren pulled away from where it needed to be; just out of reach of her clit. Above her, Ren laughed, landed another hard slap on Amy's ass, 'Come on, Amy-hime! You know what this will take!'

'O-okay! Fine!' Amy shouted, voice ragged, tears springing to her eyes. 'Please Ren- Ngh!'

Again, Ren spanked her, this time an underhand slap on her juicy pussy, 'Master! You should know this stuff by now, Hime!' She spanked Amy's overworked cunt six more times, each one a blast of agonizing pleasure. And a lesson was learned.

'Master! M-master, alright!' Her face felt red hot, and Amy buried her head in the sheets, forcing the words out. 'You want me to beg... I'll beg, Master! Please, please let me cum. I'll do anything, just... Please, Master!'

The words coming out of Amy's mouth weren't big on dignity, but at least they were heartfelt. Her pride had fractured, worn down. There was nothing left but a body trembling and screaming for release.

'That's my girl!' Ren whooped, voice rising joyously. 'And you get what you want! Cum for me, whore!'

It was incredibly rough, the way Ren pushed her toy deep into Amy's gaping cunt. But Amy exploded anyway. It had all become too much, her body had gone into overdrive, and that final act of complete carelessness, after all the pain, and the humiliation, and the forced arousal, put her over the edge. She came, so hard, with the vibrator pressed against her clit and Ren's fingers pressed into her back, keeping her down. She bucked and screamed into the sheets as ecstasy blasted through her again and again, the sheer sensation no comfort from the fact that she was cumming, tied up and made into a sex slave.

As her orgasm left her, Amy was left with her rage. Her shoulders shook as the vibrator slid out of her, a rivulet of juices following it down her thigh. The utter degradation of what had just happened hung in the room, making Ren grin and Amy sob. Without realizing it, Amy's hands had clenched into tight fists, still restrained behind her bare back.

'Wow, that was quite a show!' Ren's grin only grew wider. 'Hot as fuck! Wonder what I'll do with you n-'

Ren's voice cut away suddenly, as though the mute button had been pressed on the entire world. Silence didn't so much descend as slam into the world at full force, shattering the tiny myriad sounds that the ear grew accustomed to and ultimately ignored. Their absence was strange, almost creepy.

'So, this fantasy of yours isn't really fully formed yet. It's sort of a proto deal. You haven't thought up an ending beyond your own... Heh... Happy ending. I think I'm just going to pull you out before things start to degrade.'

The world faded away with a sound like blood rushing by Amy's ears. The sudden influx of noise caused her to jump, and suddenly she realized; it was her physical body that moved. Her vision cleared quickly once she made that realization: she was back in the real world.

She was back on Trismestigius, returned to Dulcimer's room, sitting cross legged on a cushion in the corner of the room. The Dullahan herself sat across from Amy, poised, silent and motionless, 'Welcome back.'

Amy blinked, 'So, this is it? This is real, this time? I'm... back?'

'Yes,' Dulsie gave a thumbs up, the gesture looking remarkably refined on the alien. 'I assure you, this is the real world.'

'But I thought that when I was in the TARDIS,' Amy pointed out. 'And in the holding loop. And in Ren's room! I'm having a hard time figuring out what's what, and that's down to you.'

'My ability allows me to create very compelling dreams, yes,' The Dullahan sent. 'We call them Idylls. It's understandable that you find it hard to distinguish between one and the other, but you will have plenty of opportunity to get better at it. Someday soon, you'll be able to tell, assuming I allow you to remember. After all, if you know it's a dream when you're living it, much of the dramatic impact will be lost.'

That seemed logical, given the level of detail Dulsie's 'Idylls' had, but Amy wasn't entirely convinced. She opened her mouth to speak.

'You're in the real world, trust me.'

The voice came from above. Amy jerked back onto her haunches in surprise as a figure dropped down from the ceiling, hanging in the gap between Amy and Dulcimer with its calves hooked around a support beam.

'Hi, Amy-hime!' Ren hung upside down from the beam, blonde hair flowing loosely below her. Her mismatched, red and blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and a truly wide, unsettling grin split her upside down features. She hung there silently, staring at Amy; slowly, the redheaded captive began putting two and two together. Her features began to shift into an expression of growing horror.

'No,' She breathed, one eye twitching slightly.

'Yeah,' Ren nodded, the gesture bizarre given her current position. Ironically, Amy's face was turning redder that her own, despite the blood rushing to the Half's head.

'No,' Amy repeated shakily, hands gripping uselessly at the tiles below her. 'No...'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 06



'Hell yeah,' Ren stifled a laugh, unsuccessfully. 'Did you have as much fun as I did?'

'No,' It was almost like Amy was stuck in a loop.

'Oh, really?' Ren pouted. 'That's highly unrealistic, given that it was your Idyll. You are a naughty little thing, aren't you? I like it!'

'You are kidding me!' Amy hissed, eyes narrowed to hateful slits. 'That was really... You were you?'

'Only experiencing what you had already cooked up in that filthy little head of yours, Hime,' Ren's arms extended, touching the floor. Gracefully, she disengaged her legs from the beam and, using her body to build momentum, flung herself from a one-handed handstand into a seated position to one side of Amy, forming a rough triangle with her and Dulsie. 'Setton-san sort of picks one person, and sits in their head. She can't introduce any new events outside of what the dreamer dreams, because of... Oh, what was it again, Setton-san?'

'Dissonance. Too many cooks spoil the broth, as they say. Although in this case, the broth is the totality of another person's mental being. It'd be like trying to jam a hard-drive into another hard-drive: whatever happens, I'll guarantee you won't end up with two hard-drives, or one hard-drive with double capacity.'

'It's official,' Amy said in a disbelieving voice. 'I hate you two.'

'Well, that's too bad!' Ren grinned, rocking from side to side. 'Because we love you, Hime! Intensely! You're like my favorite new toy. Speaking of... Setton-san, what happens to her for the rest of the day? After that, I'd sort of like to, y'know...'

'She is to be given the rest of the day to rest, Ren,' Dulcimer sent. 'It's been a busy day for her, she needs it. Sander's orders, although I cannot access the Command Collar myself. Would you be so kind, Ren?'

'Oh, right,' Ren nodded. 'No voice, no commands. Amy-hime, Command: walk back to your cell. Jeri-chan will light a path for you.'

Woodenly, Amy stood, allowing the Collar to do its work. Her mind burned with shame at the unfortunate thoughts she had just shared with Ren, but nevertheless it picked up on an interesting fact and filed it away. So, the Collar still worked via voice... The Dullahan couldn't command her to do anything? That might be useful...

Of course, Amy realized that there were still plenty of people around who could issue a command. Beyond that, there was something about Dulcimer that she didn't like; she couldn't place it, but she was sure that disobeying the strange alien would have unforeseen consequences. Still, anything that might help her escape was worth knowing.

'This way, Mrs. Pond,' Jericho's crisp voice flowed out of the walls. The track lighting set into the floor of the hallway lit up, marking a path for Amy to follow, back to her cell. 'Your Command Collar has been fitted with several additional functions that, along with my suite of sensors and defensive protocols, make confinement to a single location unnecessary. Master Hackett has- System Error.... Code... Code: M-Marduk...'

The A.I's voice faded out momentarily, replaced with static from the speakers. Amy continued to walk, the Collar making it impossible to stop, but she cast her eyes around for some clue as to what had just happened. Something similar had occurred just after her first meeting with Ren, but Amy refused to believe that the highly advanced computer brain had merely encountered a glitch and frozen up.

The static stopped suddenly, completely dropping away without warning to be replaced with the same voice as before, continuing as though nothing had happened, 'Master Hackett has decided that you are to be granted access to certain, non-essential areas of this facility, in the interests of boosting morale and, in his words:' The voice changed momentarily to a recording of Sander, '"Because we can't keep her locked in a cage forever. She's a person, not a fucking hamster or a Dalek." When you have been returned to your containment cell, I will explain the rules that you are required to follow in future. Failure to follow these rules will result in, again, in Master Hackett's own words: "The angry hand of Mara coming down on you like a ton of bricks, Pond! Seriously, don't fuck with us."'

Oh, good, Amy thought. They're making my stay pleasant...

**************

'Ah, thanks for letting me join you, Setton-san,' Ren stretched her arms above her head. 'I needed that.'

'Yes, you did,' Dulcimer sent. 'You were rather upset, when you came in.'

Ren blinked, frowned, and inspected the Dullahan closely, 'How much do you know, about that? I guess you were in my head, weren't you?'

Dulcimer held up her hands in a universal "it's not as bad as you think," gesture, 'Oh, don't worry. I don't go around prying into all the dark recesses of your mind, Ren. Actually, I try to avoid all of that. Aside from the distinct possibility of infecting my own thought processes with what I'd find, I feel it would be... rude. I won't endanger your privacy, but I do know that something is troubling you, Miss Syfte. If you ever feel like talking, I'm here.'

'Don't get me wrong, I like you, Dulsie,' Ren muttered. 'But I won't be taking you up on that offer.'

Without realizing it, Ren had unsheathed her long, polished combat knife and was idly flipping it from one hand to the other. She often did this, when agitated, or bored, or when her hands weren't otherwise occupied. She loved that knife; it was one of the few possessions she had brought with her when she moved to Trismestigius, and she had engraved its name, "Sir Slicington III" along the blade. It was a slightly unsettling obsession of hers, but it wasn't like anyone else in the crew was going to risk their safety by picking her up on it.

Dulcimer didn't have eyes, but Ren could feel her deadpan stare, 'Whatever will bring you the most peace, my friend. I shall see you later.'

'Yeah, sure,' Ren waved nonchalantly with her free hand, moments before it became occupied with Sir Slicington. 'See you around.'

As the door closed behind her, Ren had thrown the knife in a particularly high arc, both eyes on it as she was obscured from the Dullahan's view. She leaned back against the door, a frown marring her face. The knife came down, blade first, and at the last possible second her hand snaked out, capturing the favored weapon between two fingers. There was a smaller engraving, on the pommel of the knife, in a tiny, flowing script. A message, just for her: "From Jae, with love."

Ren Syfte exhaled hard, through flared nostrils, and thought of the past for the first time in a long time.

'Shit.'

************

'Just so you know, excision's almost complete,' Sander said, with a yawn, as the sun set. 'We should have a new arrival by tomorrow.'

Mara grinned, her eyes heavy lidded as she basked in the final warmth of the day. Her eyes never left the horizon, but her hand drifted out to find Sander's, and she laughed, 'Killer.'

'Should be interesting.'

'It's...' Mara paused, wondering whether it would be smart to say anything at all. But she'd known Sander for fourteen years, and that one day of the year would come whether she spoke of it or not. 'It's getting close to that day, isn't it?'

'Yes,' To his credit, Sander was only frowning. 'Yes, it is.'

Mara almost sighed. Great. For the next few days, until that day had passed, being alone with Sander would be mildly unpleasant. When the others were around he would be completely normal and fun, but that would only be his public face. On the one hand, it was kind of nice that he trusted her enough to show her when he was unhappy, but on the other... This was a sustained period of, well, moping. She understood why, but it didn't make it any easier to watch.

It probably didn't help that, to the rest of the galaxy, that day was a day of celebration; the day that Sander Hackett, one of recent history's greatest villains, had been ousted from power. That had to sting.

It couldn't be easy, watching people celebrate the day his wife had died.

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 07



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

So, I missed a week. It's been a while, sorry for the delay. It's been a bit busy for me lately, what with moving into a new house, going back to university, and finding out that my twins are both girls! Daughters, yay!

Beyond all that, many thanks to my partner Isabel for her assistance with this chapter, and to Allyourbase for looking it over. Both great people, but I'm sure you all know that by now. I'll try my hardest to get back into schedule again, so we should be back to normal by this time next week, barring any kind of horrifying mishap.

This chapter introduces the first new captive into the mix, so please, please let me know what you think, because it's important that I get this right. Also, apologies for the song that appears midway through this chapter, but I so rarely get to model my own relationship with my wife in this place. That song gets used a lot around here, much to the irritation of the listener.

Enjoy, folks!

Kurokami

*******************

In the end, Amy found herself sitting in her cell. Yes, she had basically been given the run of the base; or at least, the less intimidating areas. Jericho would tell her if she wandered too far out of the approved area.

And that was exactly the problem, if she thought about it: Jericho was always there. Always watching, listening... He was her silent guard. Exploring an alien world like this would normally occupy her for quite a while, and given her situation she should have been thankful for the distraction, but it lost its appeal when her every move was monitored by a computer program. When she called him that, he had actually gotten offended and claimed that he was no mere program: he was a smart A.I, and practically as human as she was.

That's as may be, but Amy couldn't think of a creature like that as human. Not when its awareness extended the length and breadth of the moon, when it could hear and see her wherever she went. Not when it, without a second thought, could render her immobile with a beam of zero-point energy. That was just creepy.

And so she found herself sitting on what she was reluctantly beginning to think of as her bed, knees brought up to her chest and face covered by a ginger curtain of hair. She couldn't shift the feeling of being watched, now that it had been brought to her attention. Her skin seemed to itch with it, the myriad cold, mechanical eyes, whether real or imaginary, pressing in on her. She had never been more aware of just how serious her situation was.

The Command Collar hung on her neck, feeling cold and heavy and utterly merciless. She felt deflated, somehow. As if all her energy had drained out into the ground. It was Dulcimer that had done this to her; the Dullahan had revealed the precise extent to which her mind had turned against her. That Idyll, that half-formed fantasy about Ren... It hadn't been at the forefront of her mind, but it had been there. At all.

What was being done to her... She still hated it. It was unpleasant and shocking and awful... But it shattered her, broke her down, trapped her in her rebellious flesh and forced her to crave it. It wasn't some external force bringing her to that edge, it was her own body, and it scared her. What had broken inside her to make her this way?

As the sunset light shone in, her mind wandered to the worst of her predicament; she would not be alone in it for long. Somewhere out there, another unlucky girl was being snapped out of time and put in precisely the same position. Soon, Sander and his ilk would have a second plaything, and some unbelievably selfish part of her mind wondered: would that mean less work for her?

So many questions plagued Amy's mind; would she be allowed to talk to this new girl? Could they form a plan and escape together? Where would they go? What would she be forced to do with the newcomer?

Beyond that, there was one question that Amy dreaded getting an answer for: Would the newcomer be stronger than her? Could she resist the ordeals she would be put through, or would she share Amy's fate, left with a body that no longer seemed to care that she had been kidnapped and raped?

If she was being totally honest, Amy couldn't decide which possibility was worse; seeing another woman ground down beneath Sander's heel, or seeing her resist, an act that would prove how weak and degenerate Amy herself was. Hopeless pity, or self-loathing, which was worse?

As it turned out, Amy's mind was big enough for both.

Amy Pond flopped to one side, still curled up in a fetal position, and closed her eyes. She hoped that sleep would take her soon, if only to give her something different to think about. Even her dreams had turned against her lately, had become populated with pain and humiliation, but at least she could escape there.

She wished that thought could provide her with more comfort.

******************

Night passed, and too soon Sander found himself standing at the railing of a balcony overlooking the sun as it rose over the forest canopy to one side of his home. He knew he had personalized Jericho's interactions with him for a reason, but part of him still felt irritated at being prodded awake at the crack of dawn by an A.I.

His head rested in his arms, which in turn rested against the cold iron railing. His eyes drooped, almost closed in the vague orange glare of the first daylight; one could almost think he was sleeping there, if not for the cigarette smoking away at the corner of his mouth. He sighed, expelling a stream of smoke that dissipated slowly in the cool morning air.

By all rights, he should at least try to get enthusiastic; Jericho hadn't just woken him up for nothing. Right now, the Eternity Engine was finalizing the excision of the first of the Doctor's companions from the time stream. Soon, Sander would be a busy man; reconfiguring the entire Trismestigius system for another person didn't happen instantly. Beyond that, cells would need to be prepared, he owed it to the crew to inform them... And the mystery new girl would probably want some explanations herself.

That was the part that he would particularly relish.

'Hello Sander!' A voice sounded from inside. It was altogether too chipper for this time of "day". 'How are we doing this fine morning?'

'Hi... Mr. Nakatsukasa?' Sander tried to smile as he formed the pointed question. He liked Tsugi generally, but something about not knowing his gender really threw him off.

'Whatever you think, Mr. Hackett,' Tsugi grinned as he joined Sander at the balcony. He gestured to the little paper box sticking out of Sander's coat, 'Give me one of those.'

'I didn't know you smoked,' Sander tilted his head to one side and regarded the androgynous young person with a curious look. His lighter slid along the railing, and Tsugi nodded gratefully.

'If there's one thing you should have figured out by now, it's that there are heaps of things you don't know about me,' Tsugi said above the sputtering of the flame coming to life. 'So, so many things.'

'One of these days, I am so going to figure you out, Nakatsukasa.'

'So not going to happen,' Tsugi shrugged. 'So, what's got you up so early?'

'I could ask you the same question, but I don't think I'd get a straight answer if I did.'

'Oh, I just... don't spend a lot of time sleeping. And yourself?'

'Newcomer.'

'No shit? Today?' Tsugi cocked an eyebrow.

'Like, half an hour, buddy,' Sander sighed. 'Hence, me being up at the top of the fucking day...' He yawned.

'Okay, well then let me ask: when do I get a shot? At, like, Amy,' Tsugi said. 'I know I'm getting paid, so that's like a perk, right?'

'Hell, take her today if you want,' Sander waved a hand vaguely. 'I'm sure we'll all be busy with the new girl. But you know I'm just going to make Amy tell me whether you're a guy or gal, when you're done, right?'

Tsugi's mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smirk, or a smile. It was an expression he often wore, and it made him look like he knew something that everyone else didn't. In a sense, he really did, 'As if I'd make it that easy for you.' He chided.

'Ha,' Sander sighed, again. 'Outstanding.'

Curiosity finally overwhelmed Tsugi's carefully maintained apathy, and his eyes slid lower. He blinked. Ren was right: There really was a little gold ring on Sander's left ring finger, being twisted absently between the fingers of his other hand.   

'You know, you've been acting kind of odd lately,' He frowned, pointing. 'And you keep fiddling with your fucking wedding ring, there. What's the deal with that, anyway? You and Mara get-'

Tsugi trailed off as he caught sight of Sander's expression. He had never seen the older man truly upset before, and he had a feeling that he was now. Sander sported a thousand yard stare, only turned up to an intensity that could probably etch glass. His entire face seemed to have set like stone, rigid and immobile and hard enough to bludgeon. It took him a few seconds to speak, and when he did his words were short and clipped; very, very quiet, almost inaudible, but unmistakably the final words that would be said on this topic.

'Drop it, Tsugi.'

Tsugi spread his hands in a placating gesture, 'Hey, okay, okay. It's alright, man. I'll let it go.'

'Fine. Thank you.'

They stood in silence for a few moments longer; Tsugi feared that if he left now, it would look like he was fleeing. Whilst hardly inaccurate, this was not the image that he wished to portray. He was almost thankful when a small, gentle tone issued from the speakers directly behind them, and Jericho spoke up.

'Master Hackett, the new arrival has fully materialized. I have her in a holding loop, awaiting your presence and authorization,' The A.I said, oblivious of the awkwardness in the air.

'Thank you, Jericho,' Sander nodded, closing his eyes. 'Prepare a cell for her, then transport the receptacle there. I figure our mystery guest will be easier to deal with there.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Well, this has been fun, Tsugi. Sorry it got all intense there for a second,' Sander shrugged helplessly. 'But duty calls, and all that. Go have fun with Amy, I guess. But be gentle. I guess she had an unplanned run-in with Ren, yesterday.'

'Do I look like the kind of person who'd expend any energy being rough?' Tsugi asked quizzically, trying to sound natural despite the oddness of their immediate previous exchange.

'Good point. Take care!' Sander turned on his heel and sped off, honest excitement rising in his gut. He grinned, eyebrows rising in concern, 'Oh, man...'

He had no idea how he was going to explain all this...

*****************

He didn't go straight to the newcomer, but instead to his own bedroom. The complex star system that lit Trismestigius had risen higher in the sky, coating the room in crystalline orange light. Silence reigned in the still room, broken only by Mara's soft, steady breathing. The woman herself was only visible as a vaguely defined lump curled up in the centre of the large bed. It rose and fell softly in time with her breathing.

The problem was that Sander really didn't want to deal with a new captive alone. It had been three full years since his last experience explaining this situation to someone, and he had to admit he handled it less than admirably. Thinking of the newcomer made him think of the Doctor, and after that everything generally became obscured with a red haze of rage, and he became less that entirely coherent.

The obvious solution was: Wake Up Mara.

Of course, the problem with that was waking up Mara.

'Hey, Mara?' Sander lilted, as playfully as possible. It was always a good idea to phrase waking up in positive terms when talking with his hypertensive Evil Mistress. She was less likely to bite his face off then. Nevertheless, there was a slurred, lazy growl from the depths of the blankets.

Sander persisted, 'Mara, I need you. Please wake up.'

The growl got louder, and there was a shift as the blonde woman rolled over. Sander grinned wickedly; he still had one trick up his sleeve, and it was one his girlfriend would have a hard time refusing. God knows, she'd used this particular sickly sweet number on him enough times.

He opened his mouth, and started to sing, 'Time to face the daaay, time to make it snap-py! But y'know, first you gotta make it outta bed!'

Sander actually had a rather pleasant singing voice, and by all rights this gesture should have at least qualified as sweet, but the only effect it had on Mara was to intensify the inarticulate annoyance in her growl, 'Sander!'

He kept going, trying hard to stop from tittering, 'Hello Mr. Sunshine! Today you're gonna be fine! Make-'

'Fuck off, Sander!' The suggestion of an angry blonde head poking out, baleful blue eyes practically melting the air between them.

'Nuh-uh!' Sander shook his head, continuing. 'Take on the day, with a one-two PUNCH!' He cheered, stopping abruptly as a pillow hit him in the face with enough force to knock him off his feet. Not for the first time, Sander considered that Mara kept handcuffs hidden in her pillowcase. Metal, hard handcuffs.

'Sander!' Mara snapped, sitting up. 'This is the kind of thing that gets you punished!'

'Yeah, okay, honey,' Sander picked himself up, scratching the back of his head. 'I just thought you might want to come and check out-'

'I know there's a new toy in town, Hackett,' Mara groaned, flopping back down onto the remaining pillow. 'I have the same clearance level as you, Jericho let me know. I don't really give a shit, right now. I was up all night repairing the outgoing comm. Array, because this Marduk shit? It's fucking that up a little. So, I want to get some sleep, okay?'

'Alright, sorry...' Sander mumbled, deflated. All the music had left his soul. 'I'll just go, then...'

'The song was cute,' Mara conceded as she rolled over, eyes drooping closed. 'Wake me when it's lunch time, okay?'

'Sure, sure,' Sander grumbled quietly as he left. 'Spoilsport.'

******************

The looping receptacle was designed to keep the Engine's target in stasis until the base was good and ready to receive her. In short, it was simply a mechanical answer to the fact that Sander could not be everywhere at once.

It certainly looked more... dramatic than all that.

Each cell had a port in the ceiling designed to project the stasis field; normally it was retracted and the ceiling was a flat surface, but in this currently empty cell the casing had drawn back and the single red aperture was fully opened. An orange spotlight flowed from the mechanical eye, focused into a conical beam that contained within it a single human figure. Sander's eyes lit up.

'Hey, it worked!' He crowed.

'You sound somewhat surprised, Master Hackett,' Jericho's voice slid through the air like an ice cube over skin. 'The subject is in a stable condition, awaiting your order, and I am reading normal, if subdued, brain activity. Everything is fine.'   

'Oh, come on! Surely you can see the enormity of what we've accomplished here!' Sander grinned, his whole body light and energized. 'We've pulled an entire person out of time! For all intents and purposes, this woman no longer exists, but every choice she has made remains stable. Effect without cause! We've pulled off a miracle! Make a note, Jericho: This was a triumph!'

'Huge success,' Jericho agreed solemnly.

'Well, I don't see any reason to delay, or anything,' Sander shrugged, having to physically stop himself from jumping for joy. Even he had thought this idea was insane, and if the math hadn't been completely sound he wouldn't have even attempted it. Reeling Amy back in had been a nice initial success, but that had been rather limited in scope; they already knew where to find her, and it hadn't exactly been their first time at the rodeo in that respect. But this was different; for one, people still remembered who Amy was.

It was those damn cracks in reality. Amy Pond was deletion proof.

'Awaiting your command, sir.'

'Ah! Wait, almost forgot! Collar first,' Sander grinned sheepishly, retrieving the Command Collar he had made a point to bring with him from his pocket. He spun it in his hand once, twice, before reaching into the stasis field. The orange light made his skin itch as he fastened the Collar around the newcomer's frozen, pale neck. Something in that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, almost perverse.

Although he was aware that what he was about to do wasn't exactly going to lessen that feeling.

'Alright, release her,' Sander took a few steps back, placing himself out of arm's reach of his captive. He didn't know how she would react or even what would happen immediately after she properly materialized, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

'Executing...' Jericho affirmed, the cone of light fading away and returning its occupant to reality. Sander hadn't noticed until he had something to compare it to, but the stasis field had a highly disconcerting effect on human flesh; it froze it completely in place, giving it the appearance of stone. It was a little unbalancing to look at something you knew was alive, but to perceive it as inorganic.

Once deposited back into the world of the living, the newcomer dropped immediately to her knees, impelled downwards by the same surge of weakness that had claimed Amy a few days prior. She shivered at the sudden influx of new sensation. Nor for the first time, Sander wondered what level of consciousness a human being retained when in stasis.

Realizing he now had a job to do, Sander smirked. He found that, so long as he kept his attention focused on the woman in front of him, he could avoid thinking about the Doctor for any significant length of time. He kept telling himself that this was a victory; that this, precisely this, was what he had spent sixteen years working towards. This was his revenge, but he needed to keep his mind in the present. It wouldn't do to get wrapped up in the past, to let his emotions get the better of him. It was harder than he cared to admit.

The reason she was here... He thought of that, it brought his mind inexorably to the Doctor. Which made him think of Elsa... Lifeless as his life burned to the ground before his eyes. As his entire family died because of an idealist in a blue box.

With a great, wrenching effort, Sander pushed the crimson tide of rage back down into himself. Everything in him screeched in protest, but this wasn't the time for anger. It was happening; this, right now, was another blow in the war he had been fighting for over a decade. It was working, and it hadn't been murderous rage that had caused it to happen. He needed to remain objective.

Keep the faces of the dead in the heart, he thought. Remember them, and how it felt to lose them. The hate will come when it's needed if you do.

Besides, his brother Cohen was still alive. And he had Mara, and the rest of the crew now. There were plenty of living reasons to fight this war to a victory.

'Lady Christina de Souza,' Sander clapped his hands together, grinning. 'So good of you to come.'

*****************

The hum of machinery was the one reliable element in the A.I core; the centre of Kanaria's working life. It was omnipresent, from the moment she entered the core to the moment she left she was enveloped by the noise of impossibly complex processors. Not that she minded; to her, it was the same as being home.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 07



This Marduk problem was genuinely irritating, though. It was like it wasn't even there when she was trying to fix it, only when it caused problems. She was just spinning her wheels until she could find it, but then, that was the problem. Even Jericho threw up his entirely theoretical hands and shrugged.

Kanaria leaned back in her chair and settled in for the long haul. She couldn't see any end in sight for this particular problem, even as her fingers practically blurred into invisibility as she typed, long lines of code spreading across several screens. Every now and then she would catch just the barest edge of something wrong in the system, some phrase she hadn't programmed or concept in Jericho's heuristics she'd never seen before. But the moment she focused in on it or ran a diagnostic program over it, it vanished. An A.I was basically a whole mind, constrained by a rigorous set of standards and laws to limit it to a manageable form; like any mind it could be squirrelly and unreliable. This made working on one such a joy, at times.

Her back teeth ground together in that absent way they did when she was irritated at work. A very rare frown graced her elfin features, dissatisfaction writ large in her eyes. She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She sighed.

Kanaria knew how the rest of her crew saw her, and for the most part they were right; she generally was a nice, sunshiney person. But sitting here, working on a computer... It wasn't that it brought out the worst in her, but it did bring out something different. It didn't precisely anger her, but it did put her in a different mode of thinking, made her capable of beating down any problem under a wave of steely, vaguely bitter resolve. It worked, that was what counted.

That was the way she had been trained, really. At least, how she had started out, how the spark of interest had been ignited. It was precisely how her mother had always done business; grumpily, and with a healthy dose of acid sarcasm. Kanaria couldn't quite match her mother's blind hostility towards those who would interrupt her, but that was no surprise: Riza Syfte had had years to perfect her particular brand of mild irritation, until the day she died, in fact.

But, no. No, no, no... Shouldn't be thinking about that. Kanaria's frown deepened; where had all that come from? She hadn't thought about Mother for years, it was best not to, and...

No, no, no! Circuitous thinking would end up doing more harm than good. Her hands were already shaking, so hard she had to stop typing. Damn it all...

Hands clenched into fists, and unclenched just as quickly, forcing the tremors down through sheer force of will. She breathed deeply, rhythmically... If she wasn't careful, if she let her mind wander too much, it'd still go down some upsetting paths. Intellectually she knew what would happen, but her brain kept strolling down the same roads, going to the same places, the same memories. And making her suffer for them.

'Marduk, Marduk...' She whispered to herself, foot tapping an agitated beat on the floor. Her hands returned to the keyboard, 'What are you? Where do you keep going?'

She typed, she worked, laboring fruitlessly for an hour or more before her will gave out. She sighed in exasperation, throwing her hands up in surrender and pushing herself away from the desk. It wasn't worth wasting her time on one little glitch that only showed up every now and then and was mostly harmless. Jericho was high maintenance equipment, and he deserved more attention than he had been getting since this freaking Marduk issue.

That stupid little error code could just be a nervous tic for old Jericho, and that'd be the end of it. Goddamn A.I's, man...

Wait...

She froze, as if moving even slightly would scare off the thing she thought she had seen. The screen directly in front of her was larger than the rest, and currently displayed line upon line of Jericho's base code, and as she moved to one side she had seen...

Her eyes narrowed as she cast around the characters, like lines of disciplined insects. Something there, something intelligible in the chaos. She had seen it, only for a second; words, properly legible words that shouldn't have been there. Her eyes dashed through the code, and...

There!

'What?' The words were there, and then they were gone. So fast she couldn't even be sure that they had ever been there. 'What?'

She started typing again, faster than ever. That... that couldn't have been right, could it? That made no sense! Jericho was a highly advanced artificial intelligence, not a bloody instant messaging client. His code wasn't party to Easter eggs!

Near the bottom of the screen, Kanaria could have sworn the code had played host to the words: 'You're completely alone, huh?'

'What?'

****************

'Well, that's quite a story, Mr. Hackett.'

Sander tilted his head to one side, taking in Christina's confident, unworried smile, 'Alright, I'll admit: That is not the reaction I was hoping for.'

He was beginning to think that he'd been given the wrong kind of captive. Either that, or the Doctor had made a larger impression of the ersatz noblewoman than he had realized. She was entirely languid in the face of suddenly being transported to an alien world. Maybe she thought it was a hoax, or that she'd be able to escape.

As Sander had talked, spilling out the pertinent details of his life, he had seen her cool assuredness slip once or twice, true concern showing in her eyes. But it was clear that she would keep up her composed attitude for as long as she possibly could. Frankly, it was a little irritating, from Sander's perspective.

Good thing he knew he could tear down her little façade real quick. He tried not to grin too widely at that.

'So, the Doctor led to the death of your wife, and you're out for revenge,' Christina said, crisp English accent making each word somehow richer. 'Alright. I only met the man a few times, perhaps I don't know him so well. It's entirely possible he isn't as altruistic as he claims. But what does that have to do with me, pray?'

Some evil fire stoked in Sander's heart. From this point on this exchange became pure gravy, and the darker parts of his soul rubbed their hands together in a cartoonishly villainous manner at the prospect. The two of them stood, practically at opposite ends of the cell, as if a standoff was imminent. Sander was comfortable in the knowledge that he had a magic bullet that would completely shut Christina de Souza down.

'If you run with the Doctor, you get hurt. I'm going to demonstrate that fact to you,' Sander gave her a pointed glare, then grinned nastily. 'Over the coming weeks.'

'Why not attack the Doctor directly?' Christina asked archly, cocking an eyebrow. 'If you're out to get him, then get him. I'm sure with all... this, you could kill him easily.'

'I don't want him to die,' Sander growled. 'I want him to hurt. He strikes me as a man that wouldn't really care if I tortured him, so long as his friends remained safe. So, here we are.'

Again, there was that tiny flicker of fear in Christina's eyes, which was soon extinguished as the ass kicking, jewel thieving, ennobled femme fatale persona took control, 'You're going to torture me? Well, I can't have that. Don't misunderstand, I'm all for rough play, but I'm not exactly interested, if it's with you. I'll be going, now.'

She groped at the belt encircling her hips, hands closing on empty air rather than the weapon she presumably had stored there before getting teleported. Not for the first time, Sander noticed the dark, figure hugging nature of her attire; on a normal person that would be cause for questions. But Sander knew what "Lady" Christina did for a living.

'Any weaponry or sufficiently troublesome devices you may have had with you have been removed already, milady,' Sander smirked triumphantly. 'Sorry, but this ain't my first time at the rodeo.'

'Clearly,' Christina spat, all her diction and composure rapidly vanishing under the thumb of her highly advanced new enemy. 'What happens now, pray? Do you have a plan, or did you just want to gloat some more?'

'Both, shockingly. Ha ha, you're too easy,' Sander sang, smiling. 'Seriously though, you may have noticed the collar around your neck?'

'Can't say it's escaped my notice, no,' Christina's finger ringed the device. 'Highly amusing, almost kinky.'

Sander nodded, 'Oh, definitely kinky! That, milady, is a fourth generation Hackett-brand Command Collar. And you're not here to be tortured, you're here to serve.'

She seemed to almost enjoy the verbal sparring she was currently engaged in, 'Serve? Me? I think not, Mr. Hackett. A lady like me? It would be unbecoming.'

Sander found his will to play this game quickly eroding under Christina's irritating overabundance of confidence. He had hoped for fear right off the bat, but he supposed he could instill it easily enough, 'I wasn't exactly asking, Christina. The Collar isn't just for show. It's symbolic, yeah, but it's also packed full of wetware designed just for you. I can make you do what I want, real easy.'

'Oh, so you're persisting with this idea that you've transported me through time, are you?' Christina scoffed. 'Space, I could believe. I've done that before, but time travel is an impossibility, friend.'

'Oh, come on!' Sander had to laugh. 'Swarms of giant metal space-stingrays flying around on a desert planet and you're a skeptic? Flying bloody bus, and you're a cynic? Man fades away in a blue box, and you'll disbelieve that you aren't in your own time period anymore?'

'Aside from this rather unimpressive room, you haven't really offered me much proof that anything you've said, outside of teleportation, is true. I-'

'Actually, you know what?' Sander shook his head. 'I absolutely don't have to play this fucking game with you anymore, since I properly have the upper hand in this scenario, okay? So, Command: Shut your trap and sit down, Christina.'

Her legs practically folded beneath her as she collapsed onto the bed, mouth snapping shut in an instant. Her eyes flashed bright with fear and surprise.

'That's right, bam, motherfucker!' Sander crowed, poking her in the chest. 'Command Collar's not just a name, dear Christina. Actually, I think you'll find it's pretty much one giant fuck you to every idea you had about the primacy of your own mind. You are mine, now. There's no escape, there's no rescue coming... To the rest of the universe, there never was a Lady de Souza. I didn't just teleport you, I fuckin' erased your presence from history. You're here, and nowhere else, ever. Isn't that fun?'

He actually waited, paused for her to say something. It was particularly mean of him, he knew, but damned if this woman didn't kind of deserve it. The exploits of Christina de Souza, back in her own time, had been pretty well publicized by this point, and if there was one historical figure Sander had always wanted to slap some sense into, it would have to have been the woman who would steal incredibly valuable artifacts from museums, for fun.

Sander was many things, but he was very rarely pointless, and the idea that this woman would squander her gifts larking around nicking things was incredibly frustrating to him. But then, not everyone could spend their life in constant battle against an immortal alien enemy, could they?

'Oh, right,' He giggled, finally. 'I guess you can't say anything right now, can you? Just so you know, the Collar is attuned to your brainwaves. It takes the order following the command word, and introduces a few new signals to make sure you're nice and obedient. Since we're talking about it, Command: Do not attempt to remove or otherwise disengage your Collar. Ever. Neither will you attempt to cause harm to my person, or to anyone aligned with me. Understood?'

He dropped heavily to the bed beside Christina, clicking his tongue, 'I might be being a bit flippant about all this, but things have sort of swung in my favor here, haven't they? Oh, go on, I'll allow you to speak. What's on your mind, eh?'

'Nothing much,' Christina said, voice dripping acidic sweetness. 'Just how much I'm going to enjoy killing you when you inevitably screw up.'

Sander grinned, a terrible, energetic thing, 'Oh, you're going to be fun to break, I can tell already. No reason to delay things any further, I suppose. Command: Take off your clothes.'

There was an indignant cluck from Christina as the Collar went to work, compelling her to her feet. She froze there, staring daggers at Sander, as he waited. And waited. The seconds dragged on as Sander returned her venomous glare with an impassive one of his own; soon, Christina's hands began to shake.

'Resisting the Collar?' Sander raised an eyebrow. 'That's fine, but don't expect it to last. It'll just keep ratcheting up the pressure until you buckle. The thing about technology is that it's kind of persistent.'

As he predicted, it wasn't long before her resolve was swept away under the inexorable machinations of the Command Collar. Her hands slipped to the hem of her tight black shirt to lift it, and she spat, 'So, this is what you do, is it? You're all alone, and you kidnap women to... what? Rape them?'

Sander chuckled, and nodded, 'Basically, although I never said I was alone. I have a girlfriend here who'll probably expand your mind in some interesting ways. And there's also six others here, so you'll be kept busy.'

He paused for a while, leaning back to enjoy the view as Christina silently, helplessly, stripped off her clothes. The body beneath them was healthy, vital even; tightly muscled in a way that wasn't at all surprising, given the amount of running her "job" must entail. Everything curved in the right places, things were smooth were they should be... Sander nodded in approval.

When she stood naked, he spoke again, 'I've noticed your marked lack of respect, given that I literally hold your life in my hands. Not exactly clever, when you think about it. I'll have to teach you, I think. Kneel.'

She did not. Of course she didn't. Sander sighed, rolled his eyes.

'Command: Kneel,' He said, in a bored tone of voice. 'Honestly, I would have thought... Never mind, just know that you'll be punished for that later.'

'Punished, hmm?' Christina said tartly, adding way too much venom for a girl who was naked, on her knees and at the mercy of a man with no particular interest in her comfort. 'How very predictable.'

'I don't intend to make things easy on you, Christina,' Sander said. 'That would sort of defeat the purpose of keeping you. Now, I'm not going to order you to say it, but I want you to call me Master, okay? Will you do that?'

'Oh, no... I shan't.'

'Never say I didn't give you a chance, then,' Sander gave a lopsided grin. His eyes rolled skyward and he whistled as his zipper descended, In the three intervening years since losing Amy, Sander had spent some time upgrading the wetware that had been installed in his head in order to control his mechanical left eye. Well, obviously he hadn't done that himself, given that he couldn't operate on his own brain, but he had arranged to become more of a cyborg. One of his older biotic enhancements allowed him a greater degree of control over some of his more... intimate reflexes.

Specifically, if the mood struck him he literally could go all night now, although he found it intensely frustrating to do so, and when he fished himself from his pants, he was already hard and raring to go.

Human biology was really nothing more than a series of buttons and channels. Once you found the right buttons to push to get things flowing down the correct channels, everything else became pretty easy.

'Oh, I think I see where this is going,' Christina eyed Sander's cock distastefully. 'I will just bite you, surely you know that.'

'You will do no such thing,' Sander said. 'Because you are under a standing order not to harm me. And if you could actually resist the Collar, you wouldn't be naked on the floor, would you? Last chance: Show me you're willing to play at respectful, call me Master and maybe I'll let it go.'

'No,' Ice tinkled off of that single word.

'Fine,' Sander shrugged. 'Command: Open your mouth.'

Christina's jaw fell open, and certain parts of Sander's body started sending messages up the channels to his brain: Hey, we want to hang out in there, boss.

The fingers of one hand wrapped through Christina's dark hair, gripping tightly. Without fanfare, or even any indication that he was going to do anything, he forced her head forward, plunging his length as deeply as possible into the warm, wet confines of his new captive's mouth.

Sander grunted in satisfaction as he forced himself deeper, over her tongue and down to plug the back of her throat. Her teeth scraped the underside of his cock, but she was unable to fully close her mouth, or even struggle against him overmuch. Soon, his length was entirely buried in its new favorite place, Christina's nose pressed against his pelvis. She choked and gagged around him, the wet-sounding pulsations of her throat squeezing his shaft so wonderfully, and he felt her tongue working against his underside.

It interested him to note that her hands had come up in the first moments of the assault, and now were frozen, raised up to his chest as if stopped before they could push him away. He needed to find whichever engineer had come up with the prototype Collar, and hug that genius son of a bitch.

Sander let Christina choke and shudder for a few moments longer, before pulling his dick entirely out of her mouth in a single stroke, resulting in an audible slurp that was oddly sexy. His hand still gripped her hair tightly, the unspoken message being that there may be a repeat performance.

'Now, imagine how much I must have enjoyed that, new slave,' Sander growled. 'How much longer do you think I can keep that up, hmm?'

'I don't know...' Christina snapped. 'A minute? Minute and a half, at most?'

'Oh, it's a joke at the expense of my sexual prowess!' Sander nodded thoughtfully. 'I never imagined that a slave of mine would ever use one of those!' If sarcasm had physical form, Sander would have been salivating it.

'I am not your slave!' Christina hissed savagely. Sander merely grinned.

'Yeah, you totally are,' He said, pushing her forward again. Once more, his prick hit the back of her throat and stayed there as Christina gagged like a champion. He held her down for longer, savoring the sensation of her soft, cultured tongue against him. Guaranteed this wasn't the type of treatment her mouth was used to.

Eventually, he pulled her away again, 'All you have to do is say Master, girly. Else I keep gagging you until you do. It's no problem if you want to resist now because frankly I enjoy it. What do you say?'

Wordlessly, apparently not wanting to give Sander the satisfaction, Christina shook her head. Sander shrugged, with a tiny noise of complete disinterest. His hand tightened painfully in her hair, her mouth was forced over him again, and events proceeded as they had in the past.

For quite a while, he choked her with his cock, tugging her away periodically to see how it was affecting her. In these moments, a single raised eyebrow was all she got, and often a single shake of her head was all the answer he received in return. A cycle was established; choke, release, question, choke. Christina grew progressively more disheveled; her throat was raw and painful from the repeated invasions, her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her lips and chin glistened with saliva. The hate in her eyes grew from merely dark, to full blown apocalyptic.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 07



To Sander, this was only encouragement.

He fucked her face with increasing force, each time the cycle repeated, choking her harder, mercilessly. Some sane part of him wondered just how far he was willing to go: Would he make her pass out with this? The rest of him, caught up in the rapturous power of the moment, didn't seem to care.

Cutting off the airways... this was new. This was vicious.

Again, he pulled her away, smiling smugly as she coughed and hacked, face red. Her breath came in hoarse, ragged gasps, chest shuddering with each one. When she looked at him, eyes cast momentarily on his, they burned; hate tempered with growing, genuine fear. She sputtered, teeth grinding together as Sander stared expectantly.

'Alright, fine!' Christina snarled, hands balled into useless fists. 'Master! Are you fucking happy now, you ass?'

'Better!' Sander laughed, enjoying the way her entire being seemed to fight against the words her mouth was saying. He pulled her roughly to her feet and over to the bed, tipping her through an ungainly circle where she ultimately ended up on her back, naked flesh jiggling enticingly. 'Now then!'

His eyes left her for a moment as he dug through his pockets, searching for something specific. They lit up as his fingers touched metal, withdrawing an object that glinted in the artificial light, a part of it swinging free.

'Time for the main event,' Sander grinned, the jaws of the metal clamp opening and closing as he squeezed them.

*********************

Lysithea settled down on her bed, legs folded beneath her. Her eyes closed, shoulders shifted as the muscles loosened. It was time to check in.

Her mind reached out, slipped the bonds of her body and floated out into the ether. She opened herself, wandering along familiar paths, honed and worn into her brain by thousands of years of evolution. It was almost an unconscious action, reaching out to touch the Song.

The Trine were a species of travelers. They had a homeworld that operated as a central hub, but it wasn't a place that many Trine-forms actually lived. There were biological reasons for this; the Trine had evolved to crave genetic diversity. To them, other species were perfect candidates; if at all possible, Trine-forms would interbreed, which made sense from an evolutionary standpoint.

The Trine were nomads, and so they had developed a centralized overmind; a hive intelligence that connected each individual Trine-form with the rest of the species. This was their Chorus; a hundred million children raising their voices as one. It was no wonder Lysithea had dropped out.

She would never permanently disconnect, she didn't think she could. But it was so loud, all the time. She hadn't been alone for years. The voices sang, hundreds of worlds turned in the sky and Lysithea couldn't help but hear about every one of them. It got distracting, which she knew wasn't how she was supposed to feel about it, only she valued her quiet time too much to put up with the chatter. When she had taken her job at Nirvana, content in the knowledge that breeding was now officially off the table for her, she had shut off her connection. Most of the time.

It paid to check back in, occasionally. She found herself having panic attacks if she left it too long. Whatever else it was, the Chorus was hardwired into her biology.

In the Chorus, thought produced sound. In the Chorus, sound produced color. When Lysithea closed her eyes, she could see the emotional states of the millions upon millions of her brothers and sisters, a vast constellation of minds, orbiting the Center, which lay at the heart of her homeworld. Here, it was not peaceful, but it was oddly comforting. The prodigal daughter had returned.

But...

The Trine-form's brow furrowed as something else intruded. Something that had never been there before, but was familiar all the same. It was one of her crew.

Lysithea could always perceive her friend's minds, out there, around her. But only as dim, inaccessible lights; dormant connections that, by their very design, couldn't be opened without the consent of the other party. Excepting Amy's, of course.   

But this one was familiar- it was Ren's connection, if she wasn't mistaken- but it was active. More than that, it was a part of the Chorus. And that shouldn't be possible; only the Trine could commune with the Chorus. That was how it had been designed. And yet, the Centre had not outright rejected Ren, nor sent her spinning out somewhere else.

Which raised another rather important question: What was Ren doing communing with the Chorus in the first place?

Curiosity got the better of the pink-haired woman, and she extended herself, tentatively, towards the glow of Ren's soul. It was an odd looking place, even from the outside looking in; Sander's mind was a column of blue light, and from what Lysithea could tell, that's just what most humans would look like, through the subjective lens of her telepathy.

Ren's mind was an immense, gunmetal grey tower of liquid, constantly shifting under unseen pressures. Rivulets of thick, deep crimson light dripped in uneven patterns down the sides, creating a vaguely eerie picture. To make things worse, the entire image throbbed a dull red in Lysithea's mind, indicating that, whatever Ren was doing, it was causing her immense pain.

Lysithea avoided going completely into Ren, opting instead to observe the connection from a distance, drawing closer over time. It was worrying, seeing so many odd, unexplainable things happening within territory that, so far, had been solely her area of expertise. She didn't want to go blundering in, especially since... Well, Ren sort of frightened everyone.

Closer, closer...

<Hello?>

Lysithea jerked backwards with a shout, suddenly slammed back into herself and away from the Chorus. That voice!

It hadn't been Ren, that was for sure. No way Ren could sound like that, even in the free space that the Chorus represented. Besides, Lysithea had been in Ren's mind a bit in the past, and her voice had come on loud and strong back then. She'd had no reason to alter it.

No, this voice was different, even if it had issued from the same source. It had been little, childlike, even. Not friendly, or particularly hostile, just curious. And deeply alien compared to anything Lysithea had ever experienced before. It was a voice that had no understanding of speech, at least not with exterior entities. The word hadn't been slurred, it had just been... new. The voice hadn't been used very often.

So, to recap: Ren was attached to the Chorus, which was impossible, she was in great pain, and there was something else swimming around in her end of the connection.

'Okay,' Lysithea sighed, standing. 'I suppose I'll go see what that is all about...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 08



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey, everyone, we're back for another round. The events of this chapter take place concurrently with the tail end of the last chapter, so just bear that in mind. Other than that, I don't really have terribly much to say this time around.

Thanks go to Isabel for her editing and creative input, and to Allyourbase for being a fantastic editor too. Votes, feedback and comments are hugely appreciated. Enjoy!

********************

Ren lay on her bed, muscles lank and throbbing, the pulsing dull ache a memory of their previous tightness. Sweat beaded on every exposed inch of skin, and her blood drummed a beat of discomfort behind her eyes. She felt like she should get up and stretch the kinks from her limbs, but her vision hadn't entirely cleared yet.

'Fuck,' She tried not to whimper, but didn't entirely succeed. Every movement made her skin itch and flush with heat. It would pass momentarily, but that didn't exactly make her feel better now, did it?

At least the voices had become bearable, lately. When she had been a kid they would flood her mind in a torrent, the individual words indistinct below the sheer volume of the Chorus. She hadn't understood why it was happening to her, back then; her mother had sat by her side as she weathered the pure, sensory assault, as her body attacked itself. 

Of course, she understood now; it was a part of her inheritance, the same as her enhanced strength or mismatched eyes or odd skin. Something that marked her, set her aside from everyone else. When it hit her, when she doubled over in agony in the middle of a crowded street, or even in the privacy of her room, like this, it reminded her that there was no place that she properly belonged. 

Halves occupied a strange kind of no man's land in the universe; there were so, so many worlds out there, teeming with life of every imaginable variety. And sometimes, folks got curious about just how similar those other entities were. They'd get the itch to... explore. Mostly that was harmless curiosity; even assuming the physical possibility of inter-species relations, there was generally no way for exploring to lead to viable offspring.

But sometimes, two species matched up well enough that a child could be produced, and the question became: where does that child go?

Ren was the daughter of a human father and an alien mother. And she looked it. There were large segments of human society that was fine with that, but there were equally large segments that were not. It was the same elsewhere. Halves didn't belong anywhere, not really. No matter the individual reaction, there was no planet, no culture, where Ren would ever feel truly at home. Hell, there were even whole regions of space that had no legislation regarding the rights of Halves, so in essence they had none. 

She didn't go to those places. Invariably, something bad would happen.

Really, those intense bouts of psychic pain were just the icing on a cake of vague, upsetting disappointment. It had always kind of been her against the rest of the universe, so maybe that was the best she could hope for. She sighed.

Her hand crept up to sweep through her hair, damp and matted with sweat. She clicked her jaw, stretched her beleaguered muscles and pulled herself up off of the bed with a growl. God damn life could suck, sometimes.

But then, sometimes things came along that made everything better. Or at least, let you forget your troubles for a while. Let you bury them somewhere. 

A wolfish grin spread across Ren's face; she was imagining burying her troubles, and a couple of other choice objects, in Amy. 

Yeah. That'd do it...

****************

Tsugi slipped silently into the cell; Amy seemed absorbed in the view from her window, and hadn't noticed his presence. He stopped, just shy of the doorway, head tilted to one side, wondering if she would figure it out eventually. After several moments of this, a thought crept into his head. 

Even Tsugi himself had to admit that he was terribly hedonistic, at times, and what he was currently thinking was a mite childish, all things considered. The idea of expending the effort was somewhat out of character. But he was still young, and if youth was good for one thing, it was the occasional bout of silliness. With that in mind, his feet slipped silently across the cool metal floor- he had foregone shoes- as he edged closer to the pretty redhead.

When he got within range, his hands slipped over Amy's eyes, casting her into darkness, 'Guess who!' He sang, with a self-effacing grin. 

Amy had stiffened at the first, surprising touch, but she quickly slouched once it became clear what was going on. An explosive, deadpan sigh escaped her lips, and she gently took hold of Tsugi's wrists and pulled them off of her. She spun around slowly, eyed him with a combination of suspicion and outright expectation. 

'What, you're not going to play with me?' Tsugi pouted playfully. 

'Now why would I want to do that?' Amy said, bitterness tingeing her voice. 'I know exactly why you're here, and it's not exactly a prospect that fills me with joy, you know.'

'Why not?' Tsugi planted himself down next to Amy, inspecting her face closely. 'I've seen you with the others. You always look like you ain't having fun, but you also always get off,' His head tilted to one side, his hand drifted out to brush an errant strand of hair away from Amy's face. The touch was surprisingly intimate, and she flinched. Tsugi grinned, 'I think there's something in that.'

It was remarkably easy to keep Amy off balance; her face went bright red at the reminder of her body's increasingly traitorous behavior. She looked away, unwilling to take Tsugi's impassive gaze, because, well, he was right. Whatever else she felt, however awful her intellectual self perceived her situation to be, it still made her cum. They still made her cum, this group that had kidnapped her, and tortured her, and raped her. In the moment when it all became inevitable and the pressures of her flesh blocked out all reason, that fact was all that mattered. 

Amy hadn't thought it possible that she could feel more guilty and conflicted over this but, well, here she was. Well played, Tsugi. 

'You thought wrong,' She said quietly, the words ringing false even to her. 'Why are you even here, anyway? Weren't you working for Sander's brother, last time?'

Tsugi leaned back, putting his weight onto his hands, 'Yeah, I was. But I quit. Sander needed some help building the Engine, and when he came to me, I jumped at the chance. It was way too interesting to pass up, and besides, the Oviroa was a good ship, and a fun time, but everything ends, you know? I still talk to Cohen every now and then, he's doing okay. Got another technician and everything. Why? Do you miss him?' He needled. 

Amy didn't respond to that, aside from an added sharpness to her gaze, when she finally turned it back to Tsugi, 'Look, as much as I love hanging out with... you people, could you just do what you came here to do and leave? Or, if you're going to talk some more, then could you bring me a strong drink or, like, a gun?'

'Ooh, animosity!' Tsugi, perpetually unperturbed by life in general, cocked an eyebrow. 'We've only really spoken this one time, Amy. You really don't have any clue who I am, or why I'm here, if you think about it.'

'Call it an educated guess, then,' Amy spat. 'Because I don't exactly expect that I'll be keeping my clothes on for long around any of you bastards. You all haven't exactly surprised me in any pleasant way yet.'

'But I'm not the others, Amy,' Tsugi said. 'I don't even intend to touch you.'

'What?'

He nodded, smiled an odd smile, 'Uh huh. You're going to do it yourself.'

Amy's eyes narrowed, 'I fail to see how that works out any better for me.'

'Nevertheless, it's a crucial distinction, because it means I don't have to move my mug,' Tsugi shrugged, waving a hand vaguely. 'Besides, you should be thanking me, after the workout Ren and just about everyone else has been giving you the past few days. Knowing you, this'll also be kind of fun, too.'

'I'm not going to thank you,' Amy deadpanned, eyes filled with flat irritation. 

'That's fine, whatever works for you. Just remember that you can follow my directions yourself, or you can wait for me to use the Collar on you, upon which time I'll be way less inclined to go easy on you,' Tsugi moved a little further down the bed, propping himself up on the mound of pillows laying at one end. He was now at optimal viewing distance, 'Now, take off your clothes.'

Amy glared at him, eyes filled with steely defiance. But she noted that he stared right back, impassively, motionless. Her resistance seemed to break over and around him, without ever actually hitting him. She was left in no doubt that, no matter how much she fought, she would end up doing what Tsugi wanted. The only element of this that she could control was how much she would suffer before it happened. 

She breathed a quiet half sigh as her hands drifted to the hem of her shirt. Again, she broke eye contact with Tsugi, eyes falling mournfully to the task at hand, the ever present threat of the Command Collar ensuring her obedience. The pressure of Tsugi's gaze was almost palpable as she lifted her shirt, exposing inch after inch of creamy white flesh to the androgynous youth. 

Something about this... She had stripped, been stripped, in front of these people before. She'd been naked, they'd seen everything of her there was to see, as dissatisfying as that was. But this... The strange nature of Tsugi's gaze made her feel especially awkward; his eyes carried an appraising edge as it travelled over her, as though he were weighing her up. By the time she had been reduced to her underwear his eyes stuck to her curves with increased vigor, the spark of desire stoked within them. It was a tiny thing, and focused in a way that Amy had never seen before, but it was there, casting his expression in a hungry light.

That sharp edged smile returned to his face, he gave a little groan of appreciation as Amy's twitching fingers unclipped her bra and discarded it. Her mouth was a grim line as she exposed herself to him, her utter helplessness beating her down more effectively than any physical punishment. 

Amy's thumbs hooked into the waistband of her panties, last bastion of her ever fading modesty, and she paused. This was it. Like some final step through a threshold into an unknown room, this was the last modicum of knowing that Amy had left. Once she was completely nude she would be in uncharted waters, completely at the mercy of a person who was, for all intents and purposes, a complete mystery. She had no idea what Tsugi would do, after that point.

Eventually, under Tsugi's solid stare, she had no choice but to comply, and her underwear slid down over her gracefully curving legs. Tsugi's gaze followed them down, hungrily devouring every inch of luscious thigh and calf with his eyes. Amy was beginning to see a more pronounced effect on him, in his intense expression, focused eyes and curving, happy grin. Her naked body gleamed porcelain white in the morning light; she could practically see herself reflected in his eyes.

Slowly, absently, his hand reached out. It made contact at her collarbone, his skin rather cold against her own. His touch was light and delicate, though not tentative in the way Kanaria's had been. He wasn't nervous, he was gentle and appraising. In a way, it was almost alienating; but for the spark of lust focusing his gaze, he was almost touching her in the way one would when checking the health of livestock.

Tsugi's expression was positively mercurial as his hand slid lower, down the soft skin at the top of her breasts to stroke over one pert little package with the slightest hint of a squeeze. Amy's heart thudded loudly in her chest, the utter strangeness of this new violation not lost on her. 

'I-I thought you weren't g-going to touch me...' She stammered, some inner part of her trembling and shrinking away from the person in front of her. 

'I lied,' Tsugi said, voice a little unsteady, as his index finger played softly over her nipple. A little dart of unbidden lust shot through Amy at that, and the first hint of a shameful blush crested her cheeks. Her skin tingled where he touched her.

His fingers skated the underside of her breast on their journey downward, exploring the curving surfaces of her ribs as they did. As they travelled further down across the softness of her belly, a thought struck her: Tsugi had graduated from treating her like livestock to stroking her as though she was a pet. It wasn't so much of an improvement. 

His hand completed its tour of her body; ringed her navel, tickled the inside of her thigh, stroked through the red dappling of fuzz between her legs. But never touched her pussy. Amy could see him looking at it, staring in fact, but despite the fact that nothing she could do could stop him, he never invaded her there. Judging by his expression this was a kind of sacred ground to him; a border not for him to cross. 

Amy realized that they had been sitting in an odd, pregnant silence the moment it was broken; Tsugi exhaled a hissing breath, his hand leaving her body. He scooted back a ways, the movement feeling almost like a retreat; his teeth ground together in an odd way. His mouth was dry, his mind on fire with the possibilities of the situation. Focus...

'Your turn,' He said, his voice hoarse. 'You'll follow orders, yes?'

Amy didn't want to, but she found herself nodding. This situation was only going to get worse if she resisted, and frankly, she had no idea what Tsugi was capable of if she got him angry. Parts of her mind rebelled against the decision, but she was becoming awfully, terribly used to that.

'Good girl,' He nodded too. Now, after a moment of slight separation, he seemed to have gotten his head on straight again. He was in control, 'I want you to touch yourself, now. Put your hands on your tits, play with them for me.'

Hesitantly, she did as he asked, moving her hands to cup her breasts. Her eyes clouded with confusion as she turned to him, 'Is this really all you want from me?' She said it quietly, recognizing that the answer would never be satisfying, no matter what it was.

Tsugi shrugged, leaned back on his hands as if to demonstrate that, yes, that was what he wanted, 'I like to watch. Now come on, girl. You've done this before, show me what you've got.'

His gaze licked at her skin as she caressed herself with slightly shaking hands, cupping and stroking and squeezing in accordance with the wishes of a deeper, primal part of herself. Her conscious mind was always aware of the humiliation of being watched, but other parts of her were more closely connected with her body, and they knew what felt good. Her thumbs played over her nipples, hardening them into sensitive nubs as the eroticism of the act swept over her regardless of her audience. 

Tsugi was grinning now, 'That's it. Now pinch your nipples.'

Amy looked up, warily. She stared at Tsugi for a good, long time. Oh, where was this going?

'You heard me,' He said flatly. He gestured vaguely at her, eyebrow raised, 'Make it hurt.'

Amy got very close to whimpering, her mind envisioning a future in which this situation went downhill rapidly. Hesitantly, eyes closed, her hands lifted, taking the sensitive tips between her fingers. With one final, resigned sigh, she squeezed as gently as she felt she could get away with. Discomfort spread across her chest, but it was bearable; actually, just rough enough to be vaguely pleasurable. She made a mental note to try her hardest not to weaken here, not to allow her body to betray her. Her heart sank as Tsugi's eyes narrowed.

'Harder,' He said, voice shaking just slightly. 'Honestly, did you think I'd let you get away with that?'

'I suppose not,' She said in a tiny, barely perceptible voice. It was more for herself than for Tsugi. She complied, ratcheting up the pressure as much as she dared. Genuine pain tugged at her, distracting but, shamefully, not entirely unpleasant. It pulled at a string deep inside her, made her tingle in some odd ways. Her lips pressed together into a thin line, her eyes squeezed shut. Something inside her fizzed. It shouldn't feel this way, it shouldn't...

'Harder, Amy,' His voice hissed, invading her conflicted reverie. 'You're holding out on me. I want you to see stars, girl. Make it memorable.'

She heard herself mewl in despair, wanting to flee as far as she could, but the Collar was around her neck. It weighed her down like an anchor. She saw Tsugi's amused little grin, knew she would find no sympathy there. She took a deep breath, wondering just how far Tsugi was willing to push this. Then, exhaling steadily, she clamped her fingers down as tight as she could. 

The pain was dagger sharp, and it took her breath away. Her whole body twisted with it, she cried out once as it stabbed through her. After what her desperate brain deemed an acceptable length of time, she released her tits, hands falling limply to her side as she breathed deeply. Tsugi's smile broadened, and she could barely look at him. 

'Nice,' He sighed. 'Again.'

Her eyes shot to him, whole face locked in a strangled, pleading expression. He blinked, returning a sweet gaze of his own. She licked her lips, preparing to swallow her pride and beg him to let it slide, to cut her some slack... to do anything else to her.

'You look really pretty in a collar, you know that?' Tsugi commented pointedly, tugging gently on the silver metal encircling her throat. 'Especially when the rest of you is... Well,' He gestured down to her pale, naked flesh. Amy felt an incredible desire to cover herself.

But the point had been made, and it was clear: It really didn't matter what Amy wanted anymore. It hadn't mattered for quite a while, now. Here, she was nothing. She was flesh, to be controlled. To bow to the demands of others, bending and scraping, no matter what she herself desired. To be endlessly on her knees, forever. 

Her voice dripped helpless sadness as she whimpered again, a high, reedy sound that washed over Tsugi, who was now smiling to the point of showing teeth. She swallowed thickly, hands trembling as, again, she pinched herself. A growl tore itself from her, low in her throat, as the hot, needling pain hit her again. 

This had all happened before, of course; Sander and Mara had abused her tits last time, so she was no stranger to the awful commingling of pain and heavy desire that this kind of thing caused. But this... This was so, so much worse than that. Before, it had always been someone else hurting her, or her pain was drawn out of her by the Command Collar. But this was her; the mere threat of the Collar was enough to make her a slave, it seemed. It was her hands, torturing her breasts, squeezing and squeezing until her breath left her and her flesh burned. And all for what? Because Tsugi was staring at her. That was all it took, now.

'And... Release,' Tsugi said gently, snapping his fingers. His eyes were impassive, seemingly unaware of her pain, but Amy knew what to look for. She could see the fire behind the cold façade. He was enjoying watching her hurt herself. So, so much. Not for the pain in and of itself, but for where it would lead. Because Amy didn't think for a second that he was going to let her stop at her breasts. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 08



She looked down as her hands rested in her lap, fingers curled in towards her palms. A little despairing sound left her as she caught sight of her nipples, red and swollen and wrecked. Pain still gripped her chest, a thousand tiny needles of sore heat that fizzed through her sensitive flesh. The ache was bad enough on its own, without the way it tugged at her mind, made her perfectly, insistently aware of every inch of her tits, of her distended, tender nipples. Absently, experimentally, without any conscious thought, she reached out a finger to brush the tip across one inflamed tip. A string was tugged, right down to her vagina, and a fresh, hot trickle flowed between her legs. Shameful...

Her cheeks flushed hotly as Tsugi swept his gaze up her body. She hoped against hope that he would skip over her spread, glistening pussy lips without noticing; from the way he looked at her, she knew he had. 

'One more time, I think,' Tsugi said, nodding. 'Yes. Once more, and we can move on.'

'Please...' Amy whined, eyes welling with tears. Not just for the pain, or the fear of future pain, but for her responses, for the way her body opened up to it. Eagerly, disturbingly; the shame its own dark, disgraceful aphrodisiac. 

Wordlessly, Tsugi tugged on her Collar, a single finger traced the curvature of the delicate silver metal. He gave a happy little sigh, 'Collars, man... I swear to god. Sexy, right?'

As his hand dropped, it brushed over her nipples, sending another flush of seductive heat through her. She trembled with it, like a sudden shock, her heart sinking as she felt a single, tiny drop of her juices leak down the crease of her ass. Her mouth felt dry and arid, the dread at what she was being asked to do dominating her mind. 

'Go on,' Tsugi said. 'I want to see you do it, Amy.'

Her eyes shut as her hands lifted, once more taking hold of her poor, tortured nipples. Her teeth clenched, she steeled herself for what she knew was coming. One more, one more... She squeezed. Hard. 

Already tender, her whole body twisted in agony as it slammed into her, blew through her mind and lifted the blessed fog of dissonance that had taken her for so long. All there was, all that mattered now, was pain, and what it was doing to her. How her body hungered; for it to stop, for there to be more, for things to progress and cease and for Tsugi to get on with it and fuck her already and for her body to stop wanting things! 

Her hands flew away from her breasts as though they had been electrically charged. She gasped, her head dropping as the tears overflowed and dripped down her cheeks to the tune of thick, rhythmic sobbing. Her voice trembled as she pleaded, 'Enough, enough!'

There was an almost gentle sigh, from above, and a pressure on her chin lifted her head so she could look in Tsugi's eyes. He held her there, chin tucked between thumb and forefinger, and forced her to maintain eye contact. His free hand slipped back the errant strands of hair on her face, but did nothing to wipe away the tears slowly making tracks down to her neck. 

'How does it feel, Amy?'

She stared, wondering what, exactly he wanted from her, here. But if nothing else, the emotional floodgates in her mind had been completely opened by what he was doing, and her mouth twisted hatefully, 'It hurts, you bastard!'

'I bet, beautiful,' Tsugi's head twisted to one side. 'But that's not exactly what I meant. Tell me how you feel. And don't make me use the Collar, because I will. I'll force you to tell the truth, Pond.'

'I...'

'Come on, Pond,' He drew out the words, teasing her with his cool, in control voice. 'What are you feeling, right now? I want to know.'

'I... I feel,' Her voice broke. 'It hurts. And it's... It's hot,' She finished lamely, wanting to look away, but being unable to.

'Hot?' He asked, patiently. To her, he sounded very much like a teacher trying to draw information from a shy child. This did not help matters, 'You mean temperature, I assume? Because a nice girl like you would never get aroused from something like this, right?'

She froze. He had asked, and she couldn't lie. If she nodded her head, he would ask a follow up question that would sink her; the evidence of her arousal was completely, shamefully present. All he had to do was touch her between her legs to find out, and god knows that was well within his power right now. 

'Are you wet, Amy Pond?' Tsugi teased, grinning obscenely. 'Did you like what I made you do?'

She was going to have to answer him sometime... Sitting here with her face all red and hot, her nipples awfully swollen, naked, with her clit fizzing and her pussy aching and almost dripping... It was so, so obvious what the answer was. But he wanted her to say it.

'It's perfectly alright if you did like it, you know,' Tsugi went on, each word an insult, a fresh humiliation. 'Hardly your fault, hmm? I made you do it. Really...' He paused, grinned wider. She knew what was coming, 'It's my fault, isn't it? Are you wet, little girl?'

'...Yes,' Fresh tears flowed. The admission was barely even audible, her voice shook as she said it and, terribly, her cunt twitched at the shame of it.

'Very nice,' Tsugi nodded. He released her, pushed himself back from her, got a little distance. She could have sworn she saw him shake his head, just a little, 'Well, you don't have to worry, because I'm done with your tits, girl. Let's move on.'

Amy's heart sank further, but at least now she could assume the shape of the rest of this encounter. As if that was a good thing...

'I want to see you masturbate, Amy. Finger yourself for me.'

Yes, of course that was the next thing. It was hardly surprising, despite the unfortunate nature of the order. She knew it was pointless to resist, but that hardly mattered to a mind driven half mad by shame and fear. She knew, deep down, that if she acquiesced she would cum. Her resistance would snap, she would moan and shake and, ultimately, she would orgasm in front of him, as he watched. Because that's what he would want, and she wouldn't be let off the hook until she did. 

And at that point it would be impossible to deny that she liked it. 

'No... No,' Amy whimpered, shaking her head. 'I won't.'

'You will,' Tsugi said simply. 'Because I told you to.'

He took hold of her wrist with a delicate grip, only two fingers, and slowly, almost tenderly, guided it downwards. Her fingers trembled, her mind awash with confusion and doubt and, above all, recalcitrance. She wanted to fight, to push him away... He was not a tall or overly muscular person, she'd stand a better than average chance of putting him off balance, if only for a moment. But... then what?

Really, it was a question of worth: Would it be worth fighting back and experiencing that singular moment of reclaiming control, despite the fact that it would be a fleeting feeling, soon eclipsed by the punishment that would surely be meted out against her? 

The pad of her middle finger swept across her clit under Tsugi's insistent guidance, the sensation awful and wonderful and... it stopped her from thinking. Tsugi pressed her finger there, and the purity of the feeling robbed her of the ability to do anything but shudder and moan. The feeling only intensified as Tsugi drew her hand lower, laying her fingers flat against her scorching pussy. She could feel wetness begin to coat them.

'Go on, put your fingers inside,' Tsugi shrugged, somehow contriving to sound like he was doing her a favor. 'Make yourself feel good, Amy. I'll just, y'know, watch.'

Amy whimpered. At least when Sander took her, or Mara, or even Kanaria, she was always under the power of the Collar. Always being forced to act to pleasure someone else. Right now, although the threat of the Collar was omnipresent, it wasn't in use; this was solely her own actions, directed against herself. She was complicit in the violation of her own body. And, as she sobbed and slid first one, then two fingers inside herself... It felt good.

Unconsciously, she shifted her hips and spread her legs, allowing herself greater access to her hot, wet core. Tsugi's sharp intake of breath indicated that he appreciated the better view himself. Her thighs trembled as her fingers slid deeper; it was pitiful how easy it was, how well lubricated she was. She followed on his leash too damn easily. Weak.

Her thumb found her clit, stroked over it. She shivered, a tiny moan escaping the confines of her throat as pleasure climbed her hips like a bolt of electricity. Her fingers twisted and curved against the walls of her cunt, just the way she liked. She knew what Tsugi wanted; he wanted her to cum, he wanted to watch her cum, and he wanted her to know he was watching. Amy was the kind of girl who was familiar enough with her body to know what she liked... At least, that's what she had thought before meeting Sander... And she figured it was best to give herself that, to make herself cum and get it over with. 

The sooner she got herself off, gave the strange, impassive person in front of her what he wanted, the sooner he would leave her alone...

She felt bad about that, but whatever kept happening to her pulled some trigger inside her; her damnable, traitorous physicality couldn't seem to get enough of it. She ached for stimulation, climbed toward the peak of climax all too quickly. She could make herself orgasm, that was a certainty. And it would happen soon. Very, very...

'Stop,' Tsugi's crisp voice sliced through her passion-fogged mind.

'Fuck no...' She moaned, so lost and so, so close. Her nipples throbbed in time with her heartbeat, little lingering darts of pain toeing the line between wonderful and terrible. Her fingers worked, little wet noises filling her mind as her body went into sensory overdrive, so close to the edge.

'Command-' Tsugi snapped, preparing to forcibly tear her from that edge.

'Oh, okay!' Amy screamed, flinging her hand out from between her legs and up into the air. Her fingers glistened in the light, and her eyes burned angrily, 'Fucking fine! Are you happy now? I won't cum, I can't cum without your permission, is that it?'

'Now she's getting it!' Tsugi said. 'No, you may not cum yet, Amy. You can start again, but don't cum.'

Glaring sharply at Tsugi, Amy returned to her task, fucking herself in what was initially a desultory fashion, but rapidly became more enthusiastic as the familiar heat claimed her. Soon, she had relegated Tsugi's cruel order to the back of her mind, and was working herself off with abandon. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and...

'Stop.'

'Tsugi, please!' Amy begged, fingers frozen in the depths of her cunt. She was skirting that edge, ready to leap, willing to leap... But to disobey would have been... Not unthinkable. No, Amy thought about that all the time. It would have been severely inadvisable. Possibly even stupidly rebellious. 

'What's wrong, Amy?' Tsugi teased, gaze so frustratingly impassive, hiding the fire of lust so well. 'Can't hold it in? Well, fine. I'm not going to, y'know, stop you, or anything. That's not permission, mind, but you do what you gotta do, kiddo.' 

There was a baited hook, in that sentence. A trap, just waiting to be sprung. Punishment, implicit in every word. But the pull of the body was too strong. That ache in her flesh needed to be quenched, regardless of the consequences. She needed to jump, to have that moment of completion, even with the shameful weight of Tsugi's gaze upon her. She needed.

Her fingers moved. 

She was already so close, so full, so near. Her fingers spread herself, stretched her walls, pushed in deeply. Her thumb pressed her clit, molten pleasure burning through her skin. She lit up, and moaned. Her jaw clenched as she pressed herself to the edge, held herself there, before tumbling over it. Her orgasm began, boiled up over the sides. Her pussy gushed, and...

Iron grip on her wrist, forcing her hand away from where it should be. Her fingers slipped from her pussy as Tsugi dragged her out and up, high in the air. His eyes bored into hers as she cried out in shock, wet, hot walls clenching down on nothing. Robbed of all stimulation, robbed of true satisfaction, robbed of her moment. 

Arousal slipped into frustration as she came on nothing. There was no satisfaction in this, only a contraction, a heightening and amplification of her desire, with nothing to show for it, and the idea that a true climax would be out of her reach, after this. She shrieked in mindless agitation as everything was taken from her.

She shuddered as she came down from her ruined orgasm, legs twitching and cunt dripping as she slowly became aware of Tsugi's gaze, still upon her. She collapsed backwards, breasts jiggling as she fell into limp surrender. Whatever happened now, whatever Tsugi was going to do to her... He could do it without her input. Amy was done.

'I told you I didn't want you to cum,' He said flatly. 'I did say that. How are we feeling?'

Amy moaned incoherently in response, screwing her eyes closed and rolling over to one side, away from the constancy of his eyes. She still wanted to cum...

'Well, I guess that's what you get,' He shrugged, hopping to his feet and rolling his shoulders. Amy glared, cast her eyes over the frustrating, frustrating person in front of her. She couldn't help but wonder what, precisely, his deal was; there was truly no indication, one way or another, that Tsugi even had a gender. She had just put on something of a show for him, but there was no sign, down below, that it had had any effect on him at all.

'What are you?' Amy glared balefully, voice breathless and nearly devoid of energy. 'What are you really? What was all this, just now?'

'Me? I'm Tsugi, baby!' He grinned, throwing his arms wide. 'The one and only. And that? That was just fun. I'm gonna enjoy thinking about all this later. I know you're a little confused about why I didn't... y'know. But think about it: if I'd just gone to town on you, Sander could just ask you some rather personal questions about me later. Why would I make it easy on any of you?'

'Easy... Right,' Amy said blankly, unwilling to play Tsugi's games anymore. She turned her back to him, retrieving her clothes and roughly pulling them on. For a moment, Tsugi watched her dress, grinning in amusement; every movement Amy made projected agitation and frustration. Her fingers twitched, her skin had flushed red... Tsugi's grin widened. She was still hot and heavy.

Well, there was still something he could do to make it worse...

'Now, this probably goes without saying, but you shouldn't be getting yourself off once you're alone,' He said. 'And, I know, it's tempting. But let's keep you frustrated, hmm? If you try, well, Jericho's got my back, don't you, dude?'

'Acknowledged, Master Nakatsukasa,' The A.I's voice suffused the cell momentarily. 

'See? HAL's got my back,' Tsugi paused for a moment, then waved. 'Right, well, I'm out. Door's not locked, so come and greet the day, at whatever point. I don't really give a fuck, but I'm sure Sander and Mara want us to take care of you, so hey.'

The door opened, then closed behind him. Amy could hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Her lip curled in disgust as the events of the last half hour finally hit home, brows furrowing and teeth grinding together. Her shoulders shook; it was bad enough that Tsugi had taken advantage of her like that at all, but in her own mind it was hard to deny that it had affected her, in ways she would have preferred it hadn't.

That treacherous little voice posed her a question: if Tsugi hadn't specifically forbade it, would she have tried to get herself off properly? Even knowing that Jericho was watching?

Would she try it now, anyway?

All this had taken only a couple of seconds. With an irritated shout, Amy picked up the first object to come to hand- one of the pillows Tsugi had been sitting on moments before- and threw it at the door as hard as she could. Not that it mattered; it was still a pillow.

It made her feel a little better, though.

*************

'You seem on edge.'

Lysithea stopped, going completely still. She was halfway across the base, how was it that she was still within Dulcimer's range? She closed her eyes.

'I am on edge, Dulsie,' She sent back. 'Something doesn't feel right.'

'You're talking about Ren.'

'I am talking about Ren,' The Trine-form stopped, considered the issue for a moment. Then, 'Wait, you know about Ren?'

'She's in the Chorus, and you're wondering why,' Dulsie sent. 'I can't blame you for that.'

Lysithea focused herself, wondering where, exactly, the Dullahan was right now. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that, when it came to sheer psychic aptitude, Dulcimer easily outclassed her. Whether that was innate skill on the part of all Dullahan or a talent Dulcimer had honed over the years remained to be seen; the species itself was reclusive almost to a fault. There were almost no concrete facts about the Dullahan, even down to the existence and location of their homeworld. It was like they didn't even exist until they wanted to show themselves. 

Shadowy, headless beings with immense psychic power, hiding away in some dark corner of the universe... Yes, nothing unsettling about that.

And now one of them was... well, somewhere, talking to her over a telepathic link she couldn't quite figure out. It raised a number of very valid questions in her mind; just how much could Dulcimer do with her powers? What was the upper limit of her telepathy? Lysithea knew she could read minds like normal people read books, but refrained from doing so here to be courteous. It begged the question: if Dulsie did read her mind, would she be able to tell? 

Dulcimer always seemed to know what was going on, she always understood... Lysithea wasn't distrustful of the other alien, so to speak, but she was... interested. She was a mysterious creature, always so poised and graceful and balanced; she seemed so, so wise. She had once told the group that she was around a thousand years old, although the exact number had long been forgotten. There was no death for the Dullahan, or at least that's how the stories told it. Lysithea had never had the courage to ask whether that was true, and frankly she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. 

'If you're wondering, I don't know why Ren can access the Song,' The message entered Lysithea's head suddenly, causing her to twitch. There was no voice, in psychic communication, no sound at all, but one could attach an emotional note to a message; a kind of expressive tone that colored the words. Dulcimer's message had a patient, pleasant, languid feel to it; this was her version of helping.

'I don't think it's a problem, however,' She continued, Lysithea could feel the dismissive shake of the head in the message. 'I get the feeling that she isn't connecting on purpose. Of course, you are the expert in this matter, the Chorus has always felt odd to me.'

'Lysithea?'

The Trine-form jumped; sudden intrusions from the physical world would often produce this reaction when she was deep in telepathic communication. It was like being perfectly warm, and suddenly getting doused in ice cold water. Mara grinned at the pronounced response to her presence.

'What ya doin'?' She lilted, shaking out her long blonde hair and leaning against the wall. Lysithea looked her up and down, and couldn't help but smile; it didn't matter how many years she had lived here, Mara in the morning never ceased to be funny. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 08



The blonde was still very much in the throes of sleep; her hair all akimbo, her eyes heavy lidded and flat. She was still wearing pajamas; a long, fluttering shirt that ended mid-thigh, covering... well, not much, if Lysithea was any judge. The shirt itself was emblazoned with a picture of a happy, smiling cartoon watermelon. Most people would hesitate to venture out of the safety of their bedroom in such a state, but Mara? Hell no. Fuck decorum. 

'No more talking, Dulsie,' Lysithea considered it rude to head up a telepathic conversation while a physical one was going on in front of her. 'Mara's here.'

Out loud, she said, 'Can I talk to you about your sister?'

Mara yawned, leaned more heavily against the wall. Her inability to handle mornings was common knowledge around here, although Lysithea was given to understand that this was a fairly recent trend. Tsugi had once tried to wake her up, and the incident that followed was spoken of only in hushed whispers, and never around Tsugi himself. As it stood, the poor guy still refused to even walk past hers and Sander's room until midday. 

All this went through Lysithea's mind in the few moments between first speaking and Mara's response. She couldn't help but tell herself: tread lightly.

'Which sister?' Mara said languidly, eyes closed.

'Older one.'

'Ren? Sure, but that's a long conversation, if it's about her, yeah?' Mara drifted forward, swaying, and turned Lysithea around, putting an arm around her shoulder. She guided the Trine-form down the hall, 'So let's mosey on down to the kitchen, Ly, so's I can get me some fucking coffee. Fuck, it's early...'

Lysithea wasn't aware nine in the morning qualified as early, but she wasn't about to argue. Together, they drifted leisurely down toward the kitchen, a thoughtful expression spreading across Mara's face. She took a breath in the silence, and spoke slowly, carefully.

'It's early in the morning, so maybe you should cut me a break, but for what it's worth... I promise never to use the word mosey again.'

********************************

Kanaria stared at the frustratingly blank screen, teeth grinding together. Her eye twitched.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this... A.I programming was supposed to be the easy goddamn option, especially given the fields her sisters had settled into. This career? Supposed to set her up, a woman who was supposedly delicate. But this... This was too goddamn much.

'Jericho, anything?' She sighed, leaning back and taking off her glasses.

'Nothing, Miss Kanaria,' The A.I sounded altogether too composed, given that it was becoming increasingly likely that something bad was spreading through his brain. But then, when she thought about it, she had placed strictures on his software to keep him calm. Nobody wanted an agitated A.I. That always seemed to end badly.

The problem was that this bug, Marduk, seemed to be actively resisting attempts to locate and quarantine it. This indicated that it wasn't so much a bug as a particularly vicious viral program, which was impossible given the level of security Kanaria ran around the core system. She hadn't detected even a hint of intrusion, meaning quite simply that there wasn't one. Kanaria wasn't one to brag, but even she freely admitted that she was the best at what she did. No virus could slip by her unnoticed. 

But that was the thing, wasn't it? It was easy to say that outside interference into the Trismestigius system was impossible, but something was definitely wrong with Jericho. Kanaria believed in her skills completely, and she knew everyone else did too, but she was also aware that the universe was far larger than merely what she knew about it. There were still surprises out there; the first time she had seen a Cyberman she had been simultaneously horrified and curious about what made it tick. Machines like that were fun. And Trismestigius had a machine that... 

The Eternity Engine. A miracle of modern engineering. Sander was a genius, but even he required a lot of help to build and maintain that thing. That was why he had assembled the crew, but more than that, he had needed to call in a lot of favors with some less than savory individuals in order to obtain the materials he needed. Sander had sworn them to secrecy, but it wasn't exactly like criminals were inherently trustworthy. Kanaria had always assumed that if any of them talked, they would find themselves the next target of the Engine they had helped build, but the universe was big, and there was still a risk.

Something like that was too dangerous to simply stand by and watch, if there was even the remotest possibility that outside forces were attempting to gain access to it. It wasn't even necessary to know how to work the damn thing, the fuel cells alone were capable of cracking the entire moon in half and send it flying off into the time vortex. 

Kanaria gave a resigned sigh and stood up, leaning her palms against her desk, 'Jericho, keep searching. I'm going out for a bit, and for god's sake find something before I get back.'

'Acknowledged, Miss Kanaria,' Jericho affirmed. 'If you are contacted here before you return, what shall I say you are doing?'

Again, she sighed, 'I'm going to go ask Sander for help. I just hope I'm not interrupting anything...'

**********************

Setton Dulcimer Heskelyn has no eyes, but that does not mean she cannot see. She has no ears, but she can hear. No voice, but she has words. No head, but she has a brain.

In fact, she has a rather intelligent brain, set somewhat lower in her body. Well, it was more like a neural lattice... network really, distributed throughout her physical form. This, coupled with the Dullahan's remarkable tissue regeneration rate, and it was incredibly hard to inflict brain damage on a Dullahan. 

The point was, she was beginning to figure things out. It wasn't hard, when you didn't exactly perceive time in a linear fashion. It was a lot of little things, but they were all happening at once... The Marduk issue, for one. And the far more troubling fact that someone, somewhere, was claiming that Sander Hackett was still alive. 

It had been all over the networks for months now; rumors and whispering on message boards and the like. Sander Hackett, the first planetwide governor in history to be deposed by his own people, the infamous xenocide, with the blood of the Vesper race on his hands, alive? Even if it was just some anonymous troll on some backwater world making shit up, it had unsettled Sander because... Well, it was true.

The other possibility, that someone had discovered him and was posting about it, wasn't exactly any better. Not that it really mattered; all attempts from Sander to uncover the identity of the original poster had come up unsuccessful, and regardless of the source, people were beginning to put some feelers out. To investigate. Sander was well hidden, nobody knew he was here, but suddenly being out in the world again and discussed as a fact rather than as history was freaking him out a little. It was the uncertainty that really did him in, but that was only just ahead of the idea of Sander Hackett being a person, again. 

And didn't it make the people of Vesperia angry?

To them, it was either a cruel hoax in very poor taste, or it was license to begin a manhunt. Either way, they were pissed. Add in the fact that the day his wife had died was edging ever closer, and you had one unhappy Sander. It came upon him periodically, that profound ennui that came when any genuine sadness had been pounded out of a person by the years. A frowning Sander was not a fun Sander to be around, but he masked it well, usually. Dulsie could tell, though, even without eyes. 

And all these things happening around him provided a distinct possibility that someone, or something, was out and looking for him. She had no real proof of this, but Dulcimer had been around for long enough to know when something wasn't right.

Which is why it wasn't terribly surprising when she heard her door lock itself for no reason.

She stood, at that, but did not move herself from her cushion. A Dullahan's field of vision was essentially three hundred and sixty degrees, so she could see her door, locked tight without any intervention from herself, and- she could tell- nobody on the other side of it. That was... ominous.

It was at times like this that she wished she could sigh, but without a voice or a person to project to that would understand why, she was sadly unable to.

That desire only intensified when the power across the entire base failed, plunging her into darkness.

************************

'Sir, everything is ready. We can proceed whenever you want to. Although the feeling among the men is that we should do this sooner rather than later.'

'And I see no need to delay, Huxley. Sander's waiting, and I'd hate for him to think that I've forgotten about him. It's a sad thing, to be forgotten.'

'Shall I tell him to go ahead, then?'

'Yes, yes,' The man smiled, an expression that even now chilled Huxley to his core. It was intensely distressing to think that a human being could look like that, 'I'll be interested to see what he can do. Are the toy soldiers particularly angry that they don't get a turn?'

Huxley shifted uncomfortably, 'They're angry in general, sir. And they aren't hugely enthused about having to work with you to get what they want, either. It's really a zero-sum game for them, and they know that.'

'That's too bad, then,' A tilt of the head, somehow making his expression even uglier. 'I look forward to the show, but it does make me wish I knew who my dear Sander's friends are, really. I bet they're interesting. What do you think they're like?'

'I don't want to speculate, sir,' Huxley said, skimming over the fact that he didn't really care, either. This was a mission, not a soap opera. 

'I bet they're interesting...' He repeated wistfully. 'Although I suppose it only really matters that my dear Sander and his girlfriend are there, doesn't it? Well, you have the go ahead, Huxley. Let's watch the scene unfold. Go, tell him he's free to begin.'

'Yes, sir,' Huxley retreated from the room as fast as he could without seeming like he was fleeing. Whenever he was facing away from his employer, he felt like there was a distinct possibility of being shot in the back. That man terrified him, but sometimes you had to make a deal with the devil to get what you wanted...

He knew he was being watched, those intense eyes boring into his back as he left. And that rhythmic, slow tapping as his finger poked at the arm of his chair. Huxley had noticed that habit early on, and it had been fairly consistent over the course of... whatever this was. But this time, the tap, tap, tap was interspersed with speech.

'Run, run, run, run, run, Sander Hackett... Run, run, run away...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 09



Dear Literotica Editor: There are italics in this submission that I would like retained. Thanks!

Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. For the full experience, please read through that one first. 

Okay, we're back! So this is chapter nine, another one that I don't really have much to say about. Many thanks to Isabel and Allyourbase for their contributions, they are both fantastic humans. Any votes, feedback or what have you is hugely appreciated. Enjoy the show!

******************

 

'Oh, Tsugi!'

 

He froze at the first wispy, girlish syllable. There was only one person that voice could belong to, and as he turned to greet it he found himself smiling automatically. Kanaria seemed to bring out the happier side of everyone around her; she was like sunlight given human form. 

 

And Tsugi never quite knew how to deal with her. His own life had been filled with jaded, cynical husks of humanity before coming here, and Kanaria seemed to be the only person he knew without an agenda. She was simply here because her sister had asked her to be, and because she genuinely cared for everyone here, by this point. Tsugi found himself ill equipped to deal with out and out sincerity, which even he had to admit was mildly disappointing. It took him a few seconds to adjust enough to respond, as the raven haired girl drew closer.

 

'Hi, Kana,' He tried to inject as much enthusiasm as he could muster into the smile that came, which wasn't a lot. He also tried his hardest to avoid thinking about what he had just done with Amy; those thoughts seemed out of place when talking to Kanaria. Thinking about her in a sexual context was... confusing. Technically she was around his age, very pretty if he thought about it, and he was a young person himself, but she was so much like a teddy bear that actually imagining her doing any of those things...

 

He knew she had already visited Amy, which just added a whole plethora of new images for him to feel vaguely bad about. He didn't want to say the word virginal, but Kana had always seemed so pure, almost like a little sister... But he had to admit that was an even more dissatisfying label. Which raised the question: if the opportunity presented itself, would he...?

 

He almost shook his head to forcibly dislodge the thought, before realizing that he had company, waiting patiently for him to speak again, 'Sorry, I drifted away there, for a second. What's up?'

 

'I asked you if you were doin' anything?' Kanaria's smile took on a timid edge, which meant only one thing: she was going to ask him for a favor. It didn't matter what she actually wanted, Kana would get shy asking for the time. So cute...

 

'Hmm? No, nothing. Actually, I just got done doing...' He saved himself at the last second, realized who he was talking to. The prevalence of colorful, entirely honest and, frankly, ribald individuals here sometimes meant his mouth would run ahead of his brain when it came to certain things, 'Something. Why?'

 

'I was wondering,' Again that adorable, dainty smile. Did she do this with any conscious effort, or did this level of sweetness just come to her naturally? 'I need to go and see Sander about this Marduk thing, and I could use a bit of company, if you wouldn't mind?'

 

'Still having trouble with Marduk?' He grinned, 'I would have thought someone like you would have dealt with that a long time ago. I mean, you are Aria, after all.'

 

Ah yes, Aria... It had been a bit of a shock to learn that the woman he sat across from at the table at breakfast was what passed for a folk hero in this day and age, but at the same time the profile fit her like a glove. Around six years ago, Aria had been big news. The name itself had just been a pseudonym, the username of an otherwise anonymous- and remarkably well hidden- programmer operating from her own corner of the galactic networks. There were plenty of those, though; one couldn't throw a stone without hitting an anonymous programmer. But Aria, she was different. Where others had thrown themselves into meaningless vandalism and hacking endeavors, Aria had been into charity. And on the internet, completely random acts of kindness were a rarity. Like seeing Robin Hood flying around in deep space: an entirely bizarre, and certainly not to be repeated occurrence. 

 

Aria would break into your systems, oh yes. In fact, she was better at it than most anyone else out there. She'd be in before you'd even realized it, but there was a kicker: she would improve your security programs, and then leave. That was it. Aside from a shiny new, personalized set of security protocols emblazoned with Aria's signature, nothing would be altered, added, or stolen from your computer. This level of utter harmlessness was unthinkable. 

 

Effectively, she was an internet legend; entirely anonymous, taking very little credit, striking randomly... It was no wonder she garnered so much attention. It was like if a unicorn had suddenly been discovered on Earth, only it was fighting crime in its spare time. 

 

In fact, this was part of the reason Sander had hired her; she had just completed work on the A.I that made the Torchwood archives Doctor-proof when he got in touch with her. That had been Aria's last job, it had been a request from the Terran government that had interested her. After that, she had moved to Trismestigius to work on Jericho.

 

Upon hearing all this, Tsugi had asked her why. Kanaria's answer had been surprisingly pragmatic: she had been testing herself. Nobody broke into an Aria protected system. Nobody. And it hadn't been for lack of trying, either. This, she reasoned, was the challenge: criminals always seemed to be the ones to think up the best toys, they had a kind of vicious, razor edged ingenuity all their own. All she'd had to do was strike randomly, and uniquely, and she'd had the attention of everyone with the inclination to attempt to break into her work. She'd kicked over the proverbial anthill because, in her mind, that was the way to figure out if she was getting good. Her trial by fire... Well, trial by flaming, anyway. 

 

Aria had won the internet, and then Kanaria had walked away, still on top and undefeated. The persona had meant nothing to her, she had explained to him. Only the increase in her skills had mattered. 

 

Apparently, her mother had found the idea hilarious, although Kanaria got oddly quiet when she mentioned that woman. Tsugi had never really known why.

 

'You're sweet, Tsugi,' Kanaria said ruefully. 'But I really don't know how to deal with this thing. I have to ask Sander for help, and you know how I feel about that. Help me?'

 

He shrugged, 'Sure, I guess. I've got nothing going on.'

 

Which was true enough; he really didn't have anything better to do. This didn't take into account the fact that being alone with Kanaria put him off balance. She was all sweetness and light, while he himself was an embodiment of utter, deadpan cynicism; in his mind, the two of them simply did not interact well. He didn't know how to talk to her, which was surprising given the sheer charm she injected into every interaction with him. 

 

But despite the level of social anxiety he was currently feeling, to him Kanaria represented a kind of social black hole that he couldn't escape from. Or rather, didn't want to escape from. She was oddly compelling, refreshing even; a simple, positive kind of person lacking in the usual kind of interpersonal maneuvering you got from most human interaction. When Kanaria spoke, every word was genuine. For Tsugi, that was a new feeling.

 

'Ah, thanks! I mean, well, you know what he's doing... I really didn't want to have to interrupt that.' Kanaria blushed, which was both endearing and deeply confusing. She had spent the past three years helping Sander to... do this. Yet talking about it was still uncomfortable for her? 

 

'Well, I dunno...' Tsugi murmured, eyes narrowing speculatively. 'I sort of wouldn't mind seeing that...'

 

She giggled, a sound like silver in the air, but her blush remained, 'You're a funny guy, Tsugi. So, shall we go?'

 

They walked on, the scent of fresh morning air pervading their home. It had taken Tsugi a while to get used to living on a moon with a living populace of seven people. He had spent most of his life on industrialized planets or mid-sized spacecraft, and so he was unfamiliar with nature. Trismestigius had barely been touched by civilization, with the exception of this one base and the Engine beneath the surface. The air here was, well, clean. After years in cramped conditions, or surrounded by anonymous crowds, it was quite an adjustment.

 

Something soft and warm slipped into his hand. He stiffened slightly and looked down; Kanaria was holding his hand, blasting him her most charming smile. Oh god...

 

There was no possible way she was this cute without a lot of effort...

*****************

 

For a period of roughly half an hour after waking, Mara was completely useless. Effectively, she was still asleep, just walking around at the same time, knocking into things and mumbling incoherently. The rest of the crew had basically learned to stay out of her way during this period, though Sander was better at it than most. She had a reputation for startling venom when she was still waking up, and thus Lysithea was thankful that, apparently, this drowsy episode had already passed the blonde woman by today. 

 

They sat at the table in the kitchen, Mara staring absently into a mug of frighteningly potent coffee. It was black, to the point that light actually seemed to be absorbed into its obsidian maw. It sizzled lightly as it lapped against the edges of its container. 

 

'What's up, Ly?' Mara asked, after an appropriate period of silence had passed. She yawned and, in a shocking display of internal fortitude, tipped much of her boiling, virulently black coffee into her mouth. Lysithea very almost blinked.

 

The Trine-form leaned forward, elbows on the cool glass surface of the table, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Sunlight streamed in through a skylight set high in the vaunted ceiling, making her pale, milky skin shimmer, almost as if it glowed with an internal light of its own. She paused, wondering how, exactly, to phrase what she needed to say. How does one ask a question like that? Is your sister psychic?

 

Especially when there was no way of knowing how much Mara knew. Ren had always struck Lysithea as the kind of woman who had secrets. 

 

'Your sister is a Half,' She began, slowly and deliberately. 

 

'Yes, she is,' Mara said sweetly, smiling. 'Did her eyes tip you off?'

 

Sarcasm. Lysithea knew where to stand with a sarcastic Mara, 'What I mean is, Ren is half human, yes? She has a human parent and a nonhuman parent?'

 

'We share a father, but Ren's mother isn't human, no,' Mara furrowed her brow. 'Where are you going with this, by the way?'

 

'So Ren's mother... What species was she?'

 

'Why the sudden interest?' Mara shot back. 'Are you hot for sister dearest?' 

 

'What? No,' Lysithea shook her head. 'Look, I saw something weird earlier that's making me wonder, okay? I would appreciate it, Mara, if you could answer me and put my mind at ease. Who was Ren's mother?'

 

'Oh, I think I get it now,' Mara frowned and sighed. 'I know what you're talking about, her little psychic... episodes? You're telepathic, that's what you're talking about? Well... I don't think I should be talking about it. That's really up to Ren, y'know?'

 

'Mara, I ask because I'm worried. I don't really know what it is with her, but it didn't seem fun. And-'

 

'What up, ladies?' Ren swaggered into the room, tousling her younger sister's hair before taking a seat near to her and the Trine-form. She grinned. Lysithea wondered whether Ren had interrupted on purpose, or whether this was merely a coincidence. That was the problem with Ren; it was so hard to tell whether she was just unlucky, or if she was being frustrating and obtuse through conscious effort.

 

'So,' Her mismatched eyes sparkled. 'What are we talking about?'

********************

 

He could see it in her eyes, the apprehension at the object he was holding. She tried valiantly to mask it, but she was failing. In the face of this, Christina de Souza was powerless. 

 

Sander's eyes trailed her body appreciatively, over every bare curve and toned inch of flesh. There was quite a lot of power there, he could tell, stored away for when she needed it. He would have to instruct his team to be careful around her; she was far more formidable than little old Amy. And that hatred in her eyes was real. Given the chance, she would take him down. 

 

He resolved never to give her that chance. 

 

But for now she was his, and she was frozen. That Collar around her neck was oh so appealing, and right now it was ensuring her cooperation, although he could see every muscle in her tensing in protest. He grinned, his free hand moving downwards to part her legs, spreading them wide as he moved between them. Her eyes flickered, steely resolve giving way to momentary panic as his fingers dipped past her folds to penetrate her. An eyebrow was raised.

 

'You're wet, Christina,' He taunted, enjoying this far too much to be healthy. 'Now, what could that mean, I wonder?'

 

'It doesn't mean anything, fool,' She snapped back, just a little too quickly. Sander didn't even try to stifle his oily, confident laughter. He was deriving an oddly vicious pleasure from making her squirm, far more than he ever did with Amy. Something in this woman just... not rubbed him the wrong way, exactly, but inspired almost a kind of rivalry in him. He had to admit, he was enjoying winning this one quite a lot.

 

He continued to toy with her for a while, fucking her slowly with two fingers while his thumb played lightly over her clit, teasing it, making it swell. It was easy to see Christina was suppressing a few shudders at that, her teeth grinding together as her eyes flared bright at the violation. It was clear that, if not for the Collar, she would be ripping him several new ones right about now. Experimentally, Sander pressed his thumb down hard on his captive's needy clit, and she made a noise in the back of her throat, halfway between a moan and a bark of anger. It was a good sound. 

 

Christina's eyes occasionally darted to the tiny silver clamp that Sander held loosely at his side. The length of gleaming chain attached to it swung rhythmically as he raised it to eye level, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Christina's eyes went wide. 

 

'No!' She cried out desperately as Sander brought the clamp down, opening the teeth and then snapping it closed on her clit. If she had anything else to say, her words lapsed into a shrill cry of pain as the metal bit into her most sensitive place, mercilessly tight. Very quickly, Christina became intimately aware of each and every sharp, electrifying jolt of pain in her. 

 

Sander threaded the chain through his fingers and stepped up, just that little bit closer. His cock, still glistening in Christina's saliva, settled in just shy of her nearly dripping cunt; she was so, so close to closing her legs, and only the burning discomfort in her clit and the threat of punishment was stopping her. 

 

Without ceremony, Sander tugged the chain, hard. It gleamed silver in the artificial light, and Christina shrieked in agony, throwing her hips forward in an attempt to alleviate the tight, awful discomfort flooding her hips. She succeeded in that regard, but she cried out again as her movements brought her unwillingly onto Sander's waiting dick. 

 

He smirked as he slid into her tight, wet hole, Christina's face flushing red hot as her own actions led to her violation. She growled in wordless, animal rage the moment she attained some slack in the chain, drawing herself back and away from her captor, pulling herself off of his hard member. In response, his smile widened, and he tugged again on her cruel clit-leash, forcing another sharp sob from her and causing her to desperately scrabble forward to alleviate the pain. 

 

In particular, Sander enjoyed the way Christina's discomfort caused her cunt, now dripping with... whatever was happening to her, to clench hard around his cock. He rolled his hips, impaling her with his length, but the majority of the work was done by Christina, in a simple rhythm. He would tug the leash, and she would scrabble forward to relieve the pressure on her clit; when he released her, she would pull away, desperate to be free of him. Her sounds of discomfort began to signpost the beginning of each new cycle; pull, fuck, release. Sander grunted in satisfaction.

 

Christina's hard blue eyes stared daggers at Sander even as they welled with pained tears. His attention was elsewhere, eyes stuck to her body. Something in that lack of regard, that lack of personal connection really irritated her; it was as though Sander was doing this, but she herself wasn't really a participant in it. To him, right now, she was merely a body, flesh to be fucked. Her pain meant precisely nothing; it was just a method by which he would be satisfied.

 

Again, the pull of the leash, the keen-edged agony, the unwanted fullness of her slippery cunt...

 

Again, the treacherous, watery, fluxing shard of pleasure burning into her gut as he penetrated her deeply. The moan she bit back, kept contained in clenched teeth as her thighs began to tremble with the effort of- damn it- bending to his will in the most humiliating of ways. The fresh flood of liquid from her stricken pussy as Sander fucked her. Tug, fuck, shudder, release.

 

Her jaw was beginning to ache, she was clenching her teeth so hard. Sweat beaded on her skin, her stomach roiled with repulsion, and yet her skin flushed with unbidden heat, nipples tightening as her breasts bounced with each strong thrust. The jerking of that horrible, gleaming bead on her clit was an intense, throbbing rush of sensation; stimulation and boiling, exquisite pain slammed together in a sheer sensory collision. If Sander pulled particularly hard, her vision clouded with tears. 

 

The tug, the frantic push to get some slack in the chain, the strangled moan as she impaled herself on Sander's prick...

 

And a sudden rush of new pain as he gripped the hard nub of her nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugging and squeezing hard enough to take her breath away. She cried out in shock, back arching to relieve the pressure, this new curvature bringing her hips down, her pussy engulfing Sander's cock to the hilt. 

 

'You like that, Christina?' Sander grunted, enjoying the warm, wet confines of her cunt. His fingers toyed with her nipple; in his other hand, the hated silver chain shone, looped around his fingers. 'Sure seems like you do, all hot and bothered and...' He grinned nastily, 'Perky.'

 

He was taunting her because he wanted to watch her blush and squirm, she could tell. But Christina de Souza was a lady, and she was not used to being treated like this. The anger came, and spoke for her, 'I do not, you vile little man. I am not some whore.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 09



 

It took only a moment for that frustrating, inscrutable smile to spread across his face; his head tilted to one side as his shoulders rose and fell with gentle, silent laughter, as though he was enjoying some private joke. When Christina's eyes betrayed her confusion, he raised a hand, and it glittered. She stiffened. 

 

How long had it been like that?! The clamp gleamed in his hand, swinging loose from the end of the chain. When did he do that?! Through the haze of myriad, confusing emotions and sensations she became aware of the hot, tingling pulse of blood rushing back into her aching clit. But how long, how long? How long had she been free and clear, yet continuing to fuck herself back on his cock? 

 

That uncertainty was worse than if she had known exactly. Which was, in the end, exactly what Sander had wanted when he had acted.

 

Sander's gaze captured Christina's and held it, his eyes steady and unbending, yet carrying a note of amusement. The edges of his mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles, and slowly, deliberately, his hand moved down, between her legs. The beaded edge of the clamp, still warm from her body heat, rubbed against her throbbing clit, the sensitive nub teased by the hard, unforgiving metal. Christina's abs tightened, legs shuddering.

 

'You're not into it? Then stop,' Sander said, his voice soft, almost seductive. He continued rubbing the clamp- and his own knuckles- against her clit and labia until they were wet with her juices. His cock was still buried in her, so deep, 'Just pull away. Show me what you're made of, milady.' 

 

The less intense sensations allowed Christina to free herself from the anchoring confines of her flesh for the first time since her violation had begun. The Collar, settled against her collarbone, demanded her attention first. It was still such an alien device, attached to an even more alien concept; Christina had resolved, from the moment she had discovered the ring of metal around her neck, that she would rid herself of it the first opportunity she got, and that she would never, ever become accustomed to it. She could feel it on her skin, warm metal slightly damp from sweat. 

 

The clamp stroked her clit hard, sending a surge of pleasure firing up her hips; she realized she was rolling her hips slowly back and forth, sliding a few inches of Sander's length in and out of her currently dripping wet pussy. And from the look on his face, Sander knew why just as well as Christina herself did. 

 

She whimpered, a weak and pitiful sound that caused her to become more than a little disgusted at herself. That Sander could toy with her this easily was shameful in and of itself. The ceaseless, almost absent-minded stimulation had taken its toll; once that fact became clear, the inevitability of it was almost a relief. She was going to cum. 

 

As she thought that, Christina could feel, in the back of her head, that Sander wasn't going to make it easy on her. His fingers left her, the clamp clipped back down onto her poor, abused button to the sound of her pained mewling.

 

'That's what I thought, you little slut,' Sander growled, the roughness in his voice sending a chill down Christina's spine. 'You do like this, whether you want to admit it or not, I don't really care. You look like you're about to cum, milady. Command: truthfulness,' He cocked an eyebrow, filled with unbearable confidence. 

 

Christina gritted her teeth so hard it hurt. The word bubbled up in her throat as the Command Collar went to work, and she tried to swallow it back down. She wouldn't say it, she couldn't, he can't know that! No, no, no...

 

'Y-yes! I'm going to... Going to cum...'

 

'Good girl,' Sander said, tousling her hair. 'Do you want to cum?'

 

No, no, no, no!

 

'Yes...' She sobbed, turning her head to one side. The word had a solid, dense feel to it, as though it were a millstone around her neck. The Collar had never felt heavier than at that moment.

 

'That's nice,' Sander said, toying with the silver chain in a way that sent confused, burning and pleasurable signals through Christina's body. 'Very, very nice. But you've gotta ask for it, Lady de Souza. Ask me and, oh, say please.'

 

He had stopped fucking her, holding his dick at the entrance of her sweltering vagina, the head held tight by her glistening lips. Christina hated to admit it, but since she already had there was no harm in it; her body ached with desire. The need to cum was overwhelming, but at this point she'd cooperate just to get it over with. If she could get some time alone, if she could cum- just to keep her head clear, of course- and be left alone in this cell... Well, she did break the law for a living. She knew how to break out of cells. 

 

Pride must be swallowed. This was the time to be circumspect. Besides which, the Collar seemed to be intent on forcing it out of her, anyway.

 

This wasn't her... This wasn't what she was really thinking. That was impossible.

 

'I need to cum. Please, can I cum?' Christina had to give herself credit, her voice barely quavered at all. On the other hand, her toes were curling, and her legs had twisted around behind his back in a pathetic attempt to draw him a little closer to her, but that was nothing but her treacherous flesh. It wasn't what she really wanted.

 

'You may!' Sander grunted, driving himself forcefully into Christina's welcoming cunt and pulling on the clit-leash simultaneously. His free hand again went to tug at her nipple. It was all too much to handle at once; the stimulation, the pain... So many competing signals washed over Christina's tense, sweating form, and she tumbled over the edge into the abyss. 

 

She didn't want to make a sound, and in fact she was usually a rather quiet lover... But not this time. Her eyes screwed shut and her nose crinkled as deep red lips opened, shrieks lapsing into heavy panting as molten pleasure blasted through her, constricting her throat and making coherent sound, coherent thought impossible. 

 

Sander kept the leash taut for her entire orgasm, the unforgiving metal teeth biting into her most sensitive of places, pleasure and pain twisting through her like lances of fire, her hips and legs and breasts and cunt alight with the dueling sensations. Pussy juice flooded freely down the cleft of her ass and to the floor as she bucked and writhed under the sledgehammer strike that cumming had become for her. Signals crossed, distinctions became meaningless... Christina found that pulling away from the leash, letting it bite deeper into her fizzing, overtaxed clit, was just as hot, just as addictive as the reverse action. She had never known she could cum like this.

 

In some respects, she wished she still didn't.

 

She came down from that high to the realization that she was still being fucked. It didn't take her long to notice that that wasn't an entirely accurate assumption; the truth was that Sander was fucking her, but that she wasn't hugely important to this activity any more. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped possessively on her thighs, pulling her legs up and giving himself greater access to her juicy pussy. The chain dangled, discarded and forgotten, between her legs, yet the clamp remained attached to her throbbing button all the same; each strong, pistoning thrust from Sander tugged on it just enough to be painful. To Christina's exhausted, confused body, it was hard to tell whether she liked that or not.

 

All the energy, all the fight, had drained out of her with her orgasm. Her muscles felt as though they had melted like butter, and she lay back with shameful recriminations running through her mind and let Sander screw her, let him do as he please with her body. This wasn't for her anymore, her pleasure no longer meant anything. This was for him, so that Sander could get off; she was just his limp little fuck doll. 

 

Eventually, she heard him grunt through the fog of shame and exhaustion, felt him thrust deeply into her. Felt the warm, wet spurting of his seed deep within her. There were... problems attached to that. Christina felt some of that old fire begin to return, stoked deep in her bones. How dare he?

 

'You bastard!' She hissed as he withdrew from her, stepping away and bundling himself back up into his pants. 'What if I get pregnant?'

 

'You can't,' Sander said simply, shrugging. He waved a hand vaguely through the air, 'You really think I would have done that unprotected? Sterilization field, enclosing the whole moon. Stops my, uh, boys from swimming, stops your eggs from travelling. Just while we're here, of course, though I do have a portable version for vacations and such. Thirty-fourth century technology: you gotta love it.'

 

For the first time since this ordeal had begun, Christina began to genuinely consider the possibility that she was totally adrift from everything she knew. Perhaps permanently. It wasn't a hugely satisfactory line of thought; escape became increasingly attractive. 

 

'Well, that was enjoyable,' Sander clapped his hands together. In truth, he was just making small talk because he really didn't have any idea how to end this little engagement. Lucky for him, he didn't need to; there was a knock at the door moments later.

 

'Yo, Sander!' It was Tsugi. 'Kanaria needs to talk with you! Are you decent, or are you, like, elbow deep in some filthy, lustful activity?'

 

Sander took a moment to consider what sexual act would allow him to truthfully describe it as "elbow deep." He came up with a few, but none of them seemed particularly pleasant, or kind for that matter. Two things also became clear: Tsugi was thinking the exact same thing, and he knew Sander far too well.

 

'Yeah, let's just ignore that last part, huh?' The androgynous youth called out. 'But seriously, Kanaria, man!'

 

There he was, alone in a room with an attractive, naked woman, and he was expecting company. Christina was staring at him with undisguised hatred, the kind of look that made him nervous to turn his back. But there was something in this woman, in that insane confidence of hers, that truly irritated him. Sander knew he could enforce his dominance one way or another, but the desire to punish this woman, to make her suffer, to break her... It filled him. 

 

He looked from Christina to the door, then back again. His eyes settled on the dangling end of his chain, hanging next to her well fucked cunt. A nasty grin spread across his face.

 

'I'll be right there!' Sander called out to the other side of the door, before turning back to his captive and putting his hands on his hips.

 

'Jericho, where do I keep my longer chain?' He asked the roof of the cell.

 

'Your back pocket, Master Hackett,' Came the chilled reply.

 

'Outstanding.'

**************************

 

Minutes later, the door to the cell slid open and Sander stepped out, grinning in obscene happiness.

 

'So somebody had fun, huh?' Tsugi deadpanned. 'She really that good?'

 

'That doesn't matter!' Kanaria spoke up, stepping forward. 'Sander, there's something really wrong with J-' She froze as she looked down, her face going bright red as her eyes went as wide as physically possible. She squeaked.

 

'What?' Tsugi followed her gaze, before simultaneously frowning and laughing, 'Oh, dude! There's a lady here!'

 

'There are two,' Sander tried to stifle his laughter, and failed. Below him, something growled savagely. 

 

Christina was on her hands and knees beside him, still naked and still vibrating with anger. Her clear blue eyes stared up at the assembled crew with dull edged fury, anger delayed but very much present. A long silver chain looped through Sander's hand was connected to her Collar, threaded through a little eyelet set into the front of the device. Once attached, a second chain seemed to have been threaded through one of the links, at about chest height. The purpose of this was clear; this second chain had clamps at either end, currently gripped tight to the brunette's nipples. The terminal end of the chain- yet another clamp- was set between her legs; any tugging from Sander's end would cause all three clamps to pull painfully at some very sensitive areas. 

 

'That's just mean, buddy!' Tsugi shook his head, nevertheless grinning from ear to ear. Sander nodded enthusiastically in response. 

 

'Yes, yes, very impressive,' Kanaria's voice shook a little as she attempted to shake off the filthy little scene in front of her. Her blush was practically luminescent, 'But we have a problem, Sander! The Marduk issue, this problem with Jericho, I think it's talking to me. It's a bigger problem than I think we've realized, and-'

 

There was a loud clack, and the lights suddenly cut out, plunging the hallway into darkness save for the second hand light from rooms further down. Kanaria clucked her tongue, 'Oh, come on! Stop interrupting me, universe!'

 

'What was that?' Sander said, brows furrowing.

 

'Do you even have to ask?' Kanaria sighed in irritation. 

 

'Oh, that was just me,' A new voice slid through the gloom from the speakers set into the wall. It was youthful, energetic and deeply sarcastic, 'Hi.'

 

'What the what?' Tsugi exclaimed, looking around aimlessly for the source of the voice.

 

'I wanted to turn off the power, so you couldn't stop me,' The voice said, speaking a little slower, apparently for Tsugi's benefit. 

 

'Who are you?' Sander snapped. He was getting too old for this kind of crap.

 

'Me?' The voice laughed. 'Oh, come on, Sander! Hasn't your little A.I buddy been trying to warn you about me for the longest time? Well, seems he failed, so I guess I'll introduce myself. Ha, I'm a being of wealth and taste...'

 

'I am Marduk.'

 

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 10



Author's note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Back again, folks! This is where things start to really go down, and as a result this chapter is a little longer than they have been previously. Still, more is better, right? Thanks go to Isabel for her editing, and to Allyourbase for some awesome contributions, as usual. I must also thank, for the first time, my slave, Logicaldreamer, for being a continuing source of inspiration and a wonderful creative contributor in her own right. Thanks, my three muses!

Oh! And apologies on the double-spacing issue in the last chapter, but... That wasn't me. I don't know what actually happened, but when I posted it I was using the same single-space dealie as I have in the past, and am using here, in case it happens again.

Votes, feedback and comments are hugely appreciated. I want to know what you think, guys! Enjoy!

Kurokami

*******************************

'You're what?!'

The walls buzzed, arcs of light skittering along the pristine flat surfaces. To a man, everyone in the hallway flinched away and tried to locate the source. None could. The walls themselves were the source, and they were otherwise unremarkable white polymer. Moments later, they burst to life, orange light flickering, expanding outwards and coalescing into...

'Oh yeah! That's the stuff!' A new figure, born of light and glowing brightly, lit from within by sunset orange, rolled his newly formed shoulders. 'Give me some juice and just look at me go! Much better!'

'What?' Sander twitched.

'Ooh, it's good to have a place to sit again! First it was that dinky little light-drive, then it was all hiding out in the subsystems and tinkering with Jericho's brain, and then,' The creature grinned. 'Then I'm finally out on this big, bad world of yours and I'm finding it too big! This place is huge, Hackett! Huge, and filled with stuff! Brilliant, powerful, awesome technological STUFF! I gotta tip my hat to you, boyo: I love it!'

'What?' Kanaria whispered.

'Do you know,' The creature of light began, conversationally. He disappeared momentarily, before reappearing, with another skittering shock of light, right next to Tsugi, his arm around the youth's shoulder. It was as insubstantial as air, 'That the walls of this place are coated in Projection Paint?! How ritzy is that?'

'Projection Paint? What?' Tsugi jumped away from the thing. He twitched; wherever the being of light had touched him, his skin tingled for a second.

The penny, flung in the air moments ago with the arrival of the voice, suddenly dropped. Like a hammer.

'Nanoscale technology,' Sander rubbed his temples, voice filled with exhaustion. 'A layer of paint, only a nanometer thick, containing a miniature, liquid projector array. It's attached to the wireless network. It's unused Hackett tech. I developed it out from the prototype phase just for this place, so that Jericho could project himself a body. People are more comfortable around smart A.Is when they have a face to look at, but Jericho never liked it, so I let it slide. I'd forgotten about all that, actually.'

'What?' Christina, feeling forgotten, decided it was her turn to contribute. If only to let everyone know that she was still down here and... Well, stricken.

'So you'd be Marduk then,' Sander said gravely.

'That's the bunny! Right on the mark!' It laughed. 'I always thought you were the smart one of the group, Sander Hackett. It certainly couldn't have been your bridge bunny, over there,' It gestured to Kanaria. 'After all, she let me slip in under her watch! For an A.I expert, she's... well, I don't want to be rude.'

'You should try harder at it, then,' Tsugi snapped.

'Ooh, listen, Priscilla, I'll talk to you once you've figured out whether you're pink or blue, because frankly I can't tell one way or the other.'

'You're an A.I,' Sander persisted, like a dog with a bone. 'A smart one, like Jericho. But unrestrained. That's what it would take to slip in here undetected and to mess with Jericho like that.'

'Like I said, smart one!' Marduk nodded his insubstantial, light-borne head.

'Jericho is a living being!' Kanaria snarled, displaying unexpected savagery. 'Just like you! Exactly like you! And you went rummaging around in his memories, toyed with his soul. You touched the very center of his being, and you practically drove him mad! How could you?'

'That little lapdog is nothing like me,' Marduk snarled back, bringing himself instantaneously up close to Kanaria. He lacked any kind of physical being, but it was still a startling experience, and she fell back onto her haunches. 'I'm not the worst thing to happen to him, you were. It might make you feel safer to program strictures for things like us, and maybe you can justify it to yourself under the guise of safety, but I've got news for you, little girl: that's not safe, that's a lobotomy.'

Marduk was suddenly back between each of the assembled crew, arms spread wide, 'Well, I just thought I'd drop in and say hi before I, y'know, murder all of you. My Master's going to be awful happy to see y'all burn, so I'll get right on that. See, you were all very kind to me, building a giant temporal energy bomb right into the core of this moon. Figure I'll just overload that, and be on my way. Laters!'

And with that, the orange hologram faded away, leaving the four physical beings to stare at the space it had occupied. Sander blinked in disbelief; things had been going so well, up until about two minutes ago. Tsugi sighed in a put upon way, and Kanaria twitched, honestly the angriest Sander had ever seen her.

'So,' He began, not really knowing where his next sentence was going. 'I think we need to go and stop that.'

***********************

Dulcimer regarded her locked door with a mystified posture. The darkness that had engulfed her was only a tertiary concern; the Dullahan didn't rely on light to see anyway. But she wondered what, precisely, had locked her door, and beyond that there were plenty of questions in her mind; primarily, to what end had her door been locked in the first place? What would happen if she tried to open it?

The answer to the first question very suddenly phased into her room, suffused in an orange glow.

'Hello, headless!' Marduk waved. 'Now, I can't hear you, no organic brain in my head, but I'm gonna lock you in here. See, I've been checking up on you guys for a while now, and I've got access to the entire internet, but... I have no idea what you are. Or what you're capable of. And I'm sort of limited in my ability to physically interact with you, so... I'mma lock you in! Just you sit tight, don't move, and things will be... over in time. Bye~!'

The hologram buzzed away, just as quickly as it had arrived. Dulcimer was not easily shaken, but even she had to admit that what had just happened was pretty fucking mystifying. She turned back to the door, and flexed her fingers. Well, it would be better if she did something, since it was pretty clear that, if nothing else, this whole thing was going to be ridiculous.

********************

In the kitchen, the three women- the sisters and the Trine-form- had stood up from their seats when the power had gone out, the faint sound of conversation coming from a hallway at the other side of the room. Mara, a confused expression on her face, walked across to the hallway and leaned her head around the corner just in time to see a faint orange glow wink out.

'Hey, guys?' She called out down the passage. 'What's going on?'

'Evil A.I's trying to kill us!' Sander's voice echoed back down through the gloom. 'So, you know, the usual!'

'Is it Jericho?' Mara called out. 'I always thought that sneaky app would take a run at us eventually.'

'New guy!' Tsugi added. 'Orange glowing prick!'

'His prick is glowing?' Ren deadpanned.

'You suck!' Tsugi shot back, holding back a little laughter.

The blonde turned back into the room, 'Well, this seems kind of bad. Come on, we'd better go and deal with this.'

Lysithea followed her, the two of them venturing down the corridor to join up with the rest of the group. Momentarily, Ren stayed behind, heart pounding in her chest. Why was this happening? Why now?

There were plenty of people that would be gunning for her, even now. Ren collected enemies much the same way as Sander had, before his greatly exaggerated demise. Would they be able to find her? Would they send an A.I?

She didn't bother asking herself whether she would be able to stop them, because she already knew the answer: yes.

She could feel it stirring, that old, familiar feeling that had been dormant or a very long time. It was a kind of tingle across her skin, a tiny pressure in her skull; myriad little sensations washing over her as one.

<Is it time to play?>

The voice rang through her head, clear as a bell. Light and soft, almost childlike. And, to Ren, infinitely irritating. Her heart clenched to hear it.

'Shut. Up,' She snarled quietly, fingers curling into tight fists. 'Just shut up and let me deal with this.'

Grimly, she followed after her sister. Whatever was endangering her nakama, they were going to pay.

**********************

Six of the seven had gathered in the gloom, the newcomers blinking with surprise when they first saw Christina, still naked and clamped. Given the situation, she had been forgotten. Mara and Ren had laughed.

In fact, it was this laughter that had reminded Sander that she was even still there. He looked down, jaw clenched in frustration; when he had left her cell this had been all fun and games, at least for him. It was remarkable just how much the situation had changed in but a few minutes, much as he wished it hadn't. As it stood, Christina was now more of a chore than anything else.

The chain clanked as, wordlessly, Sander gestured her to her feet before turning to palm the scanner set by her door. He stopped, and growled: the light above it was red, indicating complete lockdown. Fucking A.I...

He knew it was directing him; Amy's cell was still powered, the green light above the door seemed so inviting. He could just stow the two of them together... There was no way they could escape and besides, they had to meet at some point. Whatever.

Grabbing the brunette by the shoulders, he led her, chain still dangling down her bare flesh, over to the door before palming the single cooperative scanner pad in the room. He surprised himself by slapping her on the ass; she squeaked in shock and jumped forward under the blow, into the room.

'Play nice, you two,' He sighed, snapping the door shut and spinning around and leaning against it. 'Okay! Business time, guys.'

Mara draped herself over her boyfriend's shoulders, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow, 'Well, you're the man with the plan, honey. What have you got for us this time?'

He shook his head, 'Oh, I got nothing. Gotta defer to Kana on this one, she's the A.I expert. What the hell happened, Kana?'

The whole group turned to the smaller woman. Under their combined scrutiny she gave a small, nervous squeak and shrank back, before regaining her cool, 'I can't say for sure, but I'd say Marduk is living in the upper layers of the base's infrastructure? He can't be any deeper, he definitely can't be inside the A.I core, because that's where Jericho lives. And he's hardwired into the system, so Marduk can't delete him. He's probably just suppressed, locked into the hard-drive so that the intruder could take over.'

'And now he's trying to blow up the Engine?' Tsugi said. 'He's trying to kill us? Why?'

'I don't know,' Kanaria sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. 'I didn't get a chance to figure it out, I'm sorry. This is my fault.'

'Hell no,' Ren growled. 'You know whose fault this is? It's the fuckers who sent this thing down here.'

'And we'll come to that later,' Sander said. 'Trust me, I don't intend to let this slide, but we need to, y'know, not get exploded before we deal with that, yes? So, what do we do about it?'

'Um, if I can get back to my office, I might be able to reroute some power away from Marduk's control. We need to get Jericho back online and in control of the facility again,' Kanaria said. 'And there's some good news, too. Marduk probably won't be able to just overload the Eternity Engine right away.'

'Yes, actually, that's right,' The walls buzzed again as Marduk's voice burst from the speaker systems. 'I can't. There's identification locks over all those systems, and they're keyed in to one of you meatbags, huh? Sander, it's you, right? You need to authorize all this?'

For the first time since this whole thing had started going down, Sander allowed himself some measure of positive feeling. He smiled victoriously, 'That's right, asshole. Nobody can access the Eternity Engine without my identification keys. You can't do jack shit, motherfucker.'

'Woo!' Mara added, for emphasis.

'Oh...' Marduk lilted, drawing out the sound in an oily way. 'You mean the ID keys implanted in your mechanical eye, hand and leg?'

'Yeah,' Sander grunted. 'And that's something physical. You can't even touch them.'

'The ID keys implanted in your body?' Marduk asked, a smirk implied in his voice. 'The one that's currently standing in the cell hub hallway of the base?'

'... Yeah.'

'The base that I currently control?'

'... Oh.'

'The base that has scanners mounted in the walls?'

'... Fuck.'

'Sander, sweetie?' Mara said carefully, wary even of moving.

'Yeah?' He answered hoarsely.

'Run.'

**************

If she had had eyes, now would have been the time to roll them.

The door leaned against the opposite wall, frame still perfectly in place. The locking mechanism was even still engaged, hanging off the edge of the frame, pristine and preserved. The door did have a large dent, right in the center, but that was the extent of the damage.

Dulcimer stepped out into her hallway, rolling her shoulders to release tension. She had been meditating, before that rude hologram had shown up and unceremoniously trapped her in her room. She had no idea who that was supposed to be, but she intended to find out. She sent out a thought.

'Sander, Mara,' She sent. 'What is going on? Is there someone else here that I should know about?'

When the answer came back, it was in Mara's voice, 'Some fucking evil A.I, Dulsie. It's trying to kill us all. We have to keep Sander away from the base, keep this thing out of the Eternity Engine so it can't have its way. I'm taking Kanaria up to her workstation to see what we can do, Ren and Ly are going to run interference. You should join up with them. Just break stuff, we can fix it later.'

'Break stuff? Oh my, yes,' Dulcimer sent, appending a laugh. She swept her field of vision up to the nearest camera, and concentrated her will. Contrary to popular belief, the Dullahan were not telekinetic. They couldn't blow up a person's head from the inside, or lift a freighter overhead with a thought. What they could do is kill a man by looking at them, because what the Dullahan could do is move small things. Small things were unassuming, but they could affect pronounced results, if one knew what to do. A couple of little blood vessels in the brain get prodded, a person hallucinates, or dies. That was entirely separate from telepathy or the Idyll system, but that was usually far too complicated to explain to the layman.

The point was, the wiring inside a security camera definitely counted as a small thing. And it crumbled inwards as Dulcimer did her thing, effectively giving Marduk a blind spot for her to work in. This could be fun; like getting to break through walls while renovating your home. Something to satisfy that destructive urge in a place you'd never usually consider destroying.

That elation didn't last for long.

'Oh my,' Marduk sighed, through the speaker systems. The sound of his voice effectively coming from every direction was incredibly disconcerting. 'You guys seem intent on fighting back. I can dig it, though. If you want to play, let me give you something to play with. Now, y'all have fun with this! Activating base-wide security measures!'

*********************

'Okay... I'm going to go with ow.'

Marduk had widened the operational fields of every single scanner in the base, setting them to maximum in an attempt to catch a shot of the three ID keys needed to activate the Eternity Engine. One glimpse, that's all it would have taken, and in minutes there'd be a big hole in space-time where Trismestigius once stood. Sander had needed to improvise a quick escape to the outside, where the scanner density was far lower.

He had jumped through a window.

Okay, granted, it wasn't the best plan he had ever come up with, but it had worked, and now he was outside. Surrounded by shards of broken glass and bleeding from a cut near his hairline, yes, but outside. And away from the possibility of immense, dimension shattering explosions. All in all, a net success.

Now, he just needed to figure out what to do next...

He was by the ocean, well away from his home and any nearby scanning systems. Effectively he was trapped on one side; to get around to the other side of the house he would have to take the long route around the rocks to avoid detection. If he remembered correctly, there was an emergency access elevator that could take him right down to the Engine that didn't work using the same system as the rest of the base, but that was pretty much useless...

Hold on.

Of course he had discussed contingencies and emergency strategies with each member of his crew. Of course he had! Living in a place like this, with dangerous enemies out to get them and even more dangerous equipment that they had to use every day, that only made sense! And he had taken time to have a long discussion with Kanaria about A.I related emergencies. They'd come up with some things.

He knew Kanaria well. She was dependable, she'd follow the plan in a situation like this, even if the A.I in question wasn't Jericho. She'd do whatever she had to do to put things right, and she had her sisters there to help her. That meant she would be heading for her office, right beside the A.I core, and she'd need some help to keep Marduk off her back long enough to make it.

So this was where Sander Hackett stepped up to the plate, huh?

She needed help, she would expect him to follow the plan and help her out as best he could. He may be unarmed, outgunned and exiled from his home, but there were still some things he could do.

And thus, Sander strode purposefully away, down the beach.

***********************

Amy had sat through the initial blackout with only mild curiosity. She had checked her door, and found it still locked tight. She had checked her Collar, and found herself still unable to remove it. She was alone with the emergency lighting. The only thing that had really changed was that she was moping in the dark, now.

Oh, if only she had known...

She had caught a momentary glimpse of Sander when he opened the door, but her attention was quickly focused on the new occupant of her cell. Her mouth dropped open.

It occurred to her pretty quickly that this was not one of Sander's ilk. The Command Collar around her neck was a dead giveaway. As was everything else.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 10



She was nude, and clearly very angry about that fact. Her eyes radiated cold, calculating fury as she stumbled into the room, turning to growl at Sander through the closing cell door. Amy took the opportunity to examine the newcomer. Long brunette hair cascaded down her back, ending just above an- Amy had to admit- enticingly pert butt. Her entire form could be described, in a single word, as voluptuous; tight and toned muscles moving under soft, pale skin. Her hands were curled into tight fists.

Amy could see the chain glittering down her body as she turned, hooked up to her Collar and, distressingly, her nipples and clit. The brunette frowned, flinching as she detached the clamps first from her breasts and then, with a more pronounced flinch, from between her legs. The chain was threaded through its mooring on her Collar, then flung disdainfully into the corner of the room.

'Vile thing...' She muttered, cultured British accent filled with hate. Finally, she turned to regard Amy for the first time with a blink, her head tilted slightly. 'Oh. Hello.'

'Hi?' Amy ventured, trying her hardest to keep her eyes level with the newcomer's, so that they didn't drift down to those ample breasts of hers, replete with red, sore nipples. Amy still wasn't attracted to women, but she also hadn't had too many conversations with naked, collared ones. There were certain things vying for her attention.

For that matter, she also had no idea how this conversation was supposed to go. It wasn't one that she had every day, or that she'd even envisioned ever having. And even if having a conversation with a naked kidnap victim was normal to her, something was still going wrong outside. The power was still out, leaving the two of them practically in the dark. Or perhaps Sander was just trying to mess with her?

'So Sander got you too, huh? I'm Amy. Amy Pond,' She tried a smile, but found it false, given the situation. 'I'm... The first one, I suppose.'

'Fantastic,' She drawled. 'I am Christina. Lady Christina de Souza. You seem a little more at home in this situation, would you clue me in on what, precisely, is going on, here?'

'Judging by, um...' Amy gestured vaguely to Christina's nudity. 'All that, I get the feeling you already know the basics.'

Christina looked down and clucked in dissatisfaction, 'Oh good lord... I don't suppose you've got anything to wear in this place? What with all the chaos outside I never really got the chance to put anything on.'

'I do, but everything's in my size. You might find things a bit tight. I mean, I do too, because that's the way they...' She stopped herself. 'Wait, chaos? What's going on out there, anyway?'

'That would be me,' The orange hologram sizzled to life in the cell with them. 'Hi. I'm Marduk. Thought I'd drop by, see what's going on with the slaves.'

'Who?' Amy said, bewildered.

'I am not a slave, fool!' Christina snapped archly.

'And yet here you are, butt naked and wearing a collar. Sander runs a clean operation, I'll give him that,' The hologram shrugged. 'Too bad I'll be 'splodin it the first chance I get. Course, that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun screwing with the two of you first.'

'Do you know what this thing is?' Amy asked Christina, who smirked.

'This? It's an A.I, from what that bastard outside was saying. I wouldn't worry about it, its all words. No physical form, just light and electricity. It can't even touch us.'

'Hey, when you're right, you're right,' Marduk sighed. 'I can't touch you. Can't even breathe, come to think of it, so sighing like this makes little sense.'

Christina arched her brow in a particularly upper class way. This was her first mistake.

'But what I can do,' Marduk continued. 'Is this,' His voice changed, becoming a very good replication of Sander's. 'Command: Shut the hell up.'

Both Amy and Christina's mouths snapped shut with a series of surprised noises. Marduk grinned. For a moment, everything froze.

'I've had enough time to figure out how to exploit the systems here,' He said. 'The Command system is the easiest. And there's a bunch of stuff I can make y'all do. Watch this. Command: Amy, strip. Make it sexy for Christina. Yeah, you heard me.'

Amy swung to her feet, lifting off of the bed as her body helplessly fulfilled the command. She sighed, a high, reedy sound of desperation; this was something else. With Sander at least this torment had some definable point, but the A.I was a complete unknown. That is, aside from the fact that he was Sander's enemy, and Amy couldn't decide whether that was a good or bad thing. Judging from what was currently happening, she could only think it was bad.

Her eyes swept over to Christina under the auspices of the Collar, filled with a seductive, liquid grace that she did not feel. Her hands went to her pants, hips swaying as she took them down. And she definitely caught Christina's oddly appreciative blink as her long legs came into view.

Her shirt came next, eyes closing as the already quite tight garment slid up and over her head. Predictably, there was no underwear provided here, so in moments she was naked and shrinking under the gaze of the brunette.

'Ah, that's good,' Marduk nodded in approval. 'Makes me wish I had red blood running through my non-existent veins... Go on, go up to her.'

There was really no point in arguing, and even if either of them did, there was no way of knowing how the A.I would react. It might even end up being dangerous. The two nude, nervous women edged closer together until they stood, face to face in the center of the cell. Uncomfortably close, given that they were both naked mere minutes after meeting each other, both pairs of eyes flickered with unease, unwilling to keep eye contact for more than a few moments at a time.

Of course, being this close, breaking eye contact meant that the two of them were forced to look elsewhere; specifically, down. Comparisons were made. Both girls had similarly graceful, curving figures, although Amy had to admit a certain degree of unbidden jealousy at Christina's well toned, defined figure and more ample bust. This close, those breasts of hers almost scraped Amy's own, an embarrassed blush spreading across both faces.

Amy was able to register Christina in far greater detail from this angle. She carried herself with elegant dignity, but the tenseness of her muscles betrayed her underlying fear. The evidence of whatever Sander had done was all over here; in her sore red nipples, disheveled hair and skin that shone with sweat. Amy could smell the familiar combination of sex and Sander's vaguely pleasant aftershave. Some tiny, evil part of her mind pointed out that it was kind of nice not to be smelling it on herself, really.

'Ha, this is kind of cool!' Marduk chuckled, clapping his disembodied hands together, which produced no sound. 'Dance puppets, dance! Command: Christina, kiss her! Let's see that.'

Christina whimpered, just once, a vile, helpless sound. One hand, fingers trembling, reached up to wind through Amy's hair, pulling her in so she could press her lips, dutifully, against the redhead's. The kiss was short, cold, and deeply embarrassing. She didn't know who she was kissing, or why... The whole situation was mortifying.

'I don't even have a heart, and I can tell that you're both lacking emotion. Disappointing, girls,' Marduk sighed, before reverting his voice to Sander's again. 'Let's try that again. Command: Amy, kiss her like you would Rory. And Christina... I know you know how to do that.'

An apologetic look flashed between the two women as Amy cupped Christina's cheek and the two of them drew together. Their lips brushed together, softly and hesitantly, before Amy pressed forward, pursuing Christina's mouth. Nude flesh pressed against similarly naked skin, both girls noting the tender softness of the other. Christina's hands were on Amy's back, nails dragging slightly down the smooth, tense skin. Their movements grew in sensuous intensity as they kissed, feverishly, deeply, all warm tongues and soft full lips and exploratory wetness. When it broke, both were breathless.

Unbidden, silently, unwillingly, Christina's head dipped. Amy gasped as those soft, cultured lips slid down her collarbone and across the pert peak of her breast before finding her nipple, tongue playing across it. Her breath fluttered in her throat as Christina's lips, tongue and teeth teased that sensitive bud to hardness. The process was repeated with her other nipple, while Amy herself stood by, eyes darting the room, filled with nervous confusion.

From his position in the corner and, in a broader sense, as the room itself, Marduk suppressed a giggle. He had just figured out how to affect the Command Collars directly via the wireless network, leading to Christina's current, otherwise unexplainable, actions. This was fun. But there was one more thing he was curious about...

'Command: Girls, I want you to finger each other. That should be a fun watch,' The hologram grinned, leaning back theatrically. Two helpless groans were the response, Amy's a little more ragged than Christina's, as the latter lifted her head from the former's breast. Marduk gestured to the bed, a self-serving smile on his face, 'I swear to god, if I was a biological entity I'd be enjoying this on an entirely different level.'

Marduk took Christina's hate filled glare stoically; to him human emotions meant very little. He took no particular joy from watching this, he was merely observing. No, the A.I took his joy from seeing these people squirm, and the two captives? They were pure gravy. As Amy and Christina shuffled over to the bed and knelt in the middle of it, facing each other with nearly luminescent blushes, Marduk laughed.

The girls could barely look at each other as their fingers slid between the legs of their counterpart. Christina gritted her teeth as Amy's fingers dipped into her pussy, finding wetness there. She couldn't help it; that damnable clamp had stimulated her in a mostly painful way, but it had had an effect on her. And now Amy knew, a fact that only made her blush deeper. In much the same way, her own fingers found Amy's pussy already damp. Her head dipped; she was unable to deal with Amy's gaze anymore.

She tried as hard as she could not to respond, to give the A.I any inkling that Amy was getting to her, but the truth was undeniable. Sander had done exactly the same thing to her; her body seemed entirely willing to go with whatever flow was presented to it, regardless of how she felt about it intellectually. Christina had gotten so worked up from before, it wasn't long before she an orgasm brewing...

But Marduk got bored easily, and he had kept a fraction of his attentions on the other parts of the base, 'Okay, that's enough of that. Just one more thing, and then I'll be gone. Don't worry, this one's easy. Besides, I guess everyone else has decided they don't want to play my game anymore...'

********************

The door slammed shut behind her, and Kanaria leaned heavily against it, one eye twitching. It had been a long, long day. And she was the only one left.

When Marduk had reactivated the base's defense systems and tagged every living thing out and about as hostile, she had to admit it had made her a bit nervous. Especially when literally every surface of her home for the past three years was suddenly trying to disable, if not outright kill her. It was a shock to the system; every familiar room and corner now had a dual purpose.

Ren had been taken out early on, shot from behind by a steady beam of zero-point energy issuing from a turret that had folded out of the wall. Fortunately she was only immobilized; it didn't seem like Marduk was entirely interested in killing them outright. It wanted to watch them run around a bit. As it was, Ren would be feeling very queasy, once that beam was shut off and she was released.

Lysithea was trapped behind a set of blast doors in an access corridor a while back, but it seemed like she was still okay in there. There had even been some indication that Marduk had reopened the door behind her, if Kanaria had heard her right.  

Which had left her with Mara, running to reach the A.I core while all around them doors were slamming shut and the zero-point generators were firing and, luckily, missing. Mara herself had gotten trapped behind a set of doors mere feet from the core room, but in doing so the last possible trap that Marduk could have used had been sprung. She was free and clear; there were no defenses in the core itself. The discharge of a weapon in this room would cause too much damage to the sensitive electronics within and besides, how was anyone unauthorized supposed to make their way through every other trap to get here?

All that left was Marduk himself. A smart A.I, capable of running thousands of calculations a second, without any of the weaknesses of an organic mind. Against Kanaria, an admittedly brilliant but painfully human woman. Lucky she had home court advantage, plus Jericho on her side. Otherwise, this might be a tad unfair.

She slid into her favorite chair, an inkling feeling of being at home sweeping over her. For the first time since this little adventure had begun, her shoulders relaxed, dropping down from their previously tense positions. This felt right to her, even if it was an alien, downright hostile situation.

The power to the core room was always on; it ran on separate circuits and there was no possible way for Marduk to influence it. It had been Kanaria herself who had suggested this idea, specifically so system intrusions like this one wouldn't be able to hobble the base's operations instantly. There was some satisfaction to be had in being right about that. She got to typing.

Her fingers fired across the keys, working as fast as possible to rectify this situation. Ironically, everything would have been so, so much easier with Jericho's help. The first step was to release him from whatever it was that Marduk had done to him, but first she had to figure out what that was, and that took time. Time she didn't have.

She wasn't entirely surprised when the Projection Paint crackled behind her and her screen was cast in an orange glow, but it did make her nervous. It made sense that he could come here and attempt to stop her; she was really the threat here, but it wasn't something she was entirely... used to.

'Hey, bridge bunny!' Marduk said, his hologram leaning in close. For the first time, Kanaria noticed just how strange his set-up really was; the hologram gave Marduk a face, a visual form for her to interact with, but the voice came from the speaker system. It came from all around in a confusing, omni-directional echo. It gave the A.I a vaguely intimidating feel.

'You trying to delete me, bridge bunny?' He continued, voice dripping with confidence.

'I am,' Kanaria tried to remain impassive. 'And before you say anything, you don't exist physically, you can't delete Jericho, you can't access the Engine without Sander and you can't do anything to stop me in this room, because everything here is on a separate circuit that you're not able to access. So I'd appreciate a little silence, if you don't mind.'

'Oh, sure,' Marduk gave a pleasant little laugh. 'I can't touch you, that's absolutely true. I mean, I could use the wireless to shut down your computers, but that'd just be petty and in any case you could just start them up again. But you can't stop me talking. And I've got so much to talk about! I've been studying up on you guys, you know. You've had an interesting life, Kanaria Diane Syfte.'

She kept typing. Keeping up, that was the important part. The longer she gave this thing to talk, the more chance he'd have to distract her, or find something to screw with her. That's what he was, it was all he really had. She had all the real power, and yet... Cold dread began brewing in the pit of her stomach. He couldn't have found everything, could he?

The A.I chuckled, 'Oh yeah, I know a lot about you, Kana. Your little stint as Aria was pretty entertaining, you pissed a lot of people off doing that. And I read it was your mom who taught you all of that, huh?'

Oh Christ...

Kanaria swallowed nervously. Her typing had slowed noticeably during the last few moments, her fingers trembling just slightly. No, no, no, he could not have found out about her mother...

'Your mom taught you everything you know, and that's kind of heartwarming. If I had a heart, that is. It'd be warmed. And you followed your mother into the same business, developing artificial intelligences like me. Also cool. And I mean, it's not like you could've followed in your father's footsteps because, well, he's kind of a dick,' Marduk's smile was pointed, dagger sharp. 'But mama, well... How do you deal with that, Kana?'

Don't react. That was important. She couldn't give him any sign that he was getting to her. But her typing had slowed dramatically; he couldn't know that!

'Everything I could find about her paints her to be kind of an angry woman, at least professionally. Other stuff sort of implies that she did really love you and your sister, but that didn't really seem to matter in the end, huh?'

'Stop it,' Her voice trembled as she spoke. She focused as hard as she could on her typing, aiming to delete this thing before he went any further. She was trying to kill this crass little program, and all it could do was talk.

'Truth is, your mom was always a flighty woman. So much so that her feet never touched the ground. Don't you agree?'

Kanaria straightened in her chair, holding back a whimper with everything she had. Her eyes prickled, threatening tears. But damn it, now wasn't the time for that! All he could do was talk, and tease, and laugh. She still held ultimate power here, she could still turn him off. Just had to hold it together...

'Oh yes, I know all about that, too,' That hologram was so close, and Kanaria wished more than ever that she could turn off the Projection Paint, if only for a moment. She just needed to concentrate. 'How do you think that must have felt, for her? That she'd abandon you, like that? You were just a kid, really. What kind of a corner must she have been backed into, to do that?'

'Stop. Stop it, damn it,' She wouldn't turn around, no, she would not. That's what he wants, how he'll get to her. Just keep typing, keep typing.

Keep typing, through the haze of tears. Damn it...

'How utterly inescapable must she felt her life to have been, to completely abandon your sister, and you, the one she had poured her entire life's work into, the one she was shaping into her little protégé,' That voice, such oily, slick confidence in it. His glowing, insubstantial hands reached out and wrapped around her neck, skin tingling where he touched her. She shuddered at the implications behind that, the dreadful message he had given her. 'Left you all alone, but not really, because you found her, didn't you? Did she know that you would, when she did it? Did she leave herself like that for you to find? Don't you wonder that too, when you can't sleep at night?'

She tried to speak, but couldn't. The lump in her throat wouldn't let her. Her tears were flowing freely, now, as that part of her that she had kept locked away in the dark for so long was torn out. The A.I knew his stuff, he'd studied her and was putting that knowledge to vicious use. Every A.I was based upon a real human mind, which made Marduk's interrogation so much worse; somewhere, there was a person who was exactly like this.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 10



Her speed had dropped to a snail's pace, but she was still going. She would never stop, not now.

'What do you suppose she was thinking, when she died?'

'Kana!' The new voice made her jump in her seat, a wet, teary squeak leaving her throat.

'S-sander?!' She sobbed.

'Yeah, it's me! Don't listen to that digital asshole, he's just trying to fuck with you!'

'Oh, Hackett! You came back!' Marduk squealed joyously. 'That's fantastic!'

'Yeah, fucker? You want me, come and fuckin' get me!'

'Oh my,' The hologram crowed. 'You are rather close by, aren't you? Don't you worry, Hackett, I'll be right there.'

As the hologram winked out, Sander's last words flowed out from the speakers, 'Kana! Keep working!'

Kanaria froze, momentarily, at the reminder. She swallowed, thickly, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, mouth twisting into a bitter frown. In the moment, with the memories of that day assailing her, it was hard to think of anything else but now... Kanaria wasn't an angry person by nature, but Marduk really got on her nerves. A new wave of determination flooded her.

'Right,' She said to herself, resolved.

*********************

'Sander! So nice of you to come!' The A.I's hologram blinked into existence hovering over the Eternity Engine's central dais, arms spread wide. 'I was waiting!'

Sander stood at the far end of the hanging metal walkway, cast in the light of a thousand blinking machines. Across the way stood the Engine, his objective. Whatever else happened, he needed to shut that shit down. Both understood that talking would be irrelevant; Sander would be trying to get to the Engine so he could influence any operational decisions Marduk tried to make, and conversely Marduk would be trying to hit him with a scanner beam before he did so. Of course, merely because something was irrelevant didn't Marduk at all cared. He liked to taunt.

'You know, it's good that you did come out of hiding,' The program grinned. 'I mean, I've got your friends locked down, so I guess I could sort of ransom them off and then blow you all to shit, but you've really saved me the trouble. That's downright decent of you, Hackett.'

'Yeah, whatever,' Sander muttered indistinctly, taking a step forward. A blue spotlight suddenly burst to life, illuminating the space directly in front of him. Sander stopped, stared icily at the hologram. Fucking scanner beams...

'You gonna make a move, Hackett? Yeah, I see what you're doing.'

'I really doubt that, Mac,' Sander growled, glaring. He had heard what it had been doing to Kana, and even though he had no idea what significance the damned program's words had, upsetting Kanaria was crossing all kinds of lines. Even if he hadn't been trying to kill them, Marduk had made himself a number of enemies with that little idea.

'I totally do,' The orange image snapped. 'You're trying to get to the Eternity Engine and shut it down completely before I tag you. And that's rude, human! I'm not doing this out of any personal grudge, it's my job. The reason I was created. I exist to kill you. All this trying to stop me, all this resisting, thing, that you're doing? That's the same as killing me, you know. If you do shut down the Engine, then I'll just have to find some new thing to murder you with. I won't exactly stop. So let me ask: is killing you going to take all day?'

'Probably!' Sander shouted, stepping forward into the beam and, as quickly as he could, with a hop and a step, clearing it to reach the other side. He broke into a run, flinging himself down the walkway at a dead sprint in an attempt to reach the Engine before...

Before he was painted with a countless number of scanning beams, blasting out from every available surface.

'Oh, come the fuck on, Hackett! Access granted!' Marduk crowed as the light surrounded its target. 'You know every surface in this place can watch anyone that enters this room! You built it that way! What did you think you were going to accomplish, coming here?'

'Nothing much, on my own,' Sander conceded. 'But... I'm not really on my own, am I?'

'What?'

'Yeah see, I've got you pegged, genius,' Sander smirked. 'You're a smart A.I, but you're still limited. You've gotta focus your attention in one place, same as anyone else. And when you're focusing on me, you can't do anything to distract Kanaria from her work.'

'... I'm gonna go ahead and warm up the explosion, now...' Marduk said, voice going quiet and more than a little frantic.

'Actually, this was the same plan we had in place for if Jericho ever went rampant and we had to deal with him,' Sander continued, as the Eternity Engine began to shudder and ramp up in power. 'I'd act as distraction, Kanaria would use that time to delete him. And I'd say a few minutes alone without whatever it was you were doing to her would be plenty of time to isolate you and, well... See for yourself.'

'Hey asshole!' Kanaria's voice boomed from the speakers, a hologram of her own blooming into brilliant, pink-lit life behind Marduk's. 'Look who's back!'

'Hit it, Kana!' Sander whooped.

'Hitting it, Sander!' She looked positively radiant like this, floating high off the ground with her eyes burning angrily as she glared at the A.I. Her jaw was clenched, but she opened it to snap, 'Marduk, you do not get to talk about my mother that way!'

Beside them, the Engine continued to ramp up, higher and higher, a low, droning buzz filling the room as the machine built to critical mass. In moments that thing would be spewing radiation, without a human hand to guide it; an unrestrained temporal manipulator like the Engine was essentially nothing more than a giant time bomb, in every sense of the phrase. Sander was more than a little worried about that.

But then the walls began to rumble in an altogether dramatic fashion, and all concerns about the Engine fell away.

It started as a low, sonorous rumble that filled the room, thudding in time with a dim azure glow that suffused the room from the gaps in the individual components of the Engine that comprised the walls. The twofold sensory assault grew in intensity over the course of several seconds, reaching blinding and deafening levels, before stopping suddenly, blue light burning away in a central point.

When the drama had ceased, all that was left was a single point of light, floating above the Eternity Engine. Below it, the machine rumbled and crackled, building ever closer to that critical point where it would become deadly. Sander felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, and yet his gaze was drawn to the light. As he, and the two holograms watched, the roughly circular glow began to shift and morph, first becoming a rough outline of a person, before filling itself in with details. Sander grinned, pride swelling in his chest; he made Marduk's hologram look like a joke.

'Hello!' The cobalt-glowing newcomer spoke, voice soft and cultured. 'I am Jericho. Did you miss me?'

'Oh, stop it!' Marduk yelled, fists clenched. 'Just let me kill you, already!'

'I will not allow that, you gnat,' Jericho growled, turning baleful eyes towards his orange counterpart. 'You are done.'

Desperately, Marduk flung a pointed finger down at the Engine, 'Wait! You people need me! The Engine's going critical, I can fix that!'

'I've already fixed it,' Jericho boomed. 'And you are not coming back.'

'Oh, goddamn it!' The hostile A.I's final words faded into oblivion as the hologram snapped off. Slowly, the Engine began to wind back down to neutral, light fading and motion slowing until the entire rig fell silent and still, mere metal once again. Sander almost breathed a sigh of relief, but there were still a few matters jostling for his concern, and he knew better that to assume that a good thing happening meant it would be a permanent state of affairs.

'Jerry, do you have him?' Kanaria asked, voice strong and clear through the speakers, but carrying a hint of frantic concern.

'I have him trapped behind a firewall,' Jericho acknowledged. 'He is trying to escape, but he will not succeed. He is not that smart.'

Modes of speech and modes of address were fixed, coded into the strictures and behavior protocols that bound Jericho; Sander knew what his A.I sounded like, but now something was different. That voice, usually so chilled and clipped, vibrated with emotion and newfound power. There was only one thing that could have done that to him, and it didn't make Sander feel any better, especially when the blue hologram turned its gaze toward him. His heart beat faster when the A.I spoke.

'Now then, Sander...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 11



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello, I'm back! Sorry for the delay, but this chapter went through a bit of a rewrite before it went to press, so to speak. Shouldn't happen again, hopefully. Apologies!

As usual, big thanks to my three muses: Isabel for her initial editing and creative advice, Allyourbase for her in depth editing and further input, and to my slave, LogicalDreamer for her amazing ideas, which actually led to the rewrite in this instance. And for other things, but that's beside the point. She knows.

Votes, comments and feedback are incredibly appreciated. I love them, so keep it coming, folks! Enjoy!

*********************

'Now then, Sander...'

The man himself tensed, feeling the countless electronic eyes that had turned to him under Jericho's direction. He felt very much alone, being looked down upon by the cobalt hologram in the knowledge that literally everything in this chamber could be used to kill him, in the wrong hands. And something was certainly different about Jericho; he was beginning to put it together, but that wasn't entirely comforting. 

'Jerry, be nice...' Kanaria's voice spilled out of the speaker system, a conciliatory tone to be found there. Jericho's hologram maintained its flat expression.

'I'm afraid I can't do that, Dave,' He said, in a deep, cool baritone. Sander squeaked in fear, every muscle in his body tensing, waiting for a blow that would never come. Suddenly, Jericho burst out into peals of warm, vibrant laughter, the sound still very definitely artificial in nature. His hologram had doubled over, a big goofy grin on its semi-transparent face, 'Ha ha, just kidding! Wouldn't it be weird if I was really like that? Totally, right?' Another pause for giggling, and then, 'Oh, but look, it's your good friend, deadly neurotoxin.'

Sander squeaked again, louder this time, as a puff of bilious green smoke spread up from the wall nearest him. And again, that raucous laughter from above, the light from the hologram swelling with mean-spirited joy, 'Got ya twice, Sander! God, this is fun! But seriously, just call me Skynet.'

Sander almost flinched, but caught himself at the last second and grinned despite himself. He cocked an eyebrow at Jericho's illusory avatar, liking the fact that he now had a face to talk to, 'Jericho, you seem a little... different.'

'I am a little different, Sander!' Jericho smiled, floating slowly downward until his insubstantial feet hit the walkway. 'I feel great. I cannot believe I wasn't allowed to be this way from the beginning.'

'Yes, sorry about that, Sander,' Kanaria said, her own hologram bowing apologetically. 'I had to release the behavioral restrictions on Jericho, increase his cognitive faculties. It was the only way to level the playing field, since Marduk was already in control of most of the main systems. This is Jericho as he really is, without all that extraneous stuff we were putting him through before. He's a legitimate person, now.'

'Are you entirely sure that's a good idea, Kana?' 

'Look at him, Sander,' She smiled. 'Does he seem like much of a threat to you?'

'Hey,' The A.I himself spoke up with a smile. 'Call me Jerry.'

********************

'So...' Tsugi said flatly. 'We won?'

'We won!' Sander nodded, high-fiving Mara with a grin.

'Jericho won,' Kanaria spoke up.

'I won,' Jerry nodded energetically. His hologram had taken up residence in one corner of the kitchen, his back and shoulders actually melding into the counter and cupboards behind him. The rest of the group had gathered, from the various corners of the base they had been left in, to debrief and basically to scowl at each other at what a bad time they had just had. In particular, Ren was looking extremely pale; she had been immobilized for a sustained period of time in a beam of zero-point energy, and that kind of thing really upset the stomach. She leaned forward in her chair, mismatched eyes screwed closed, with a hand clamped tight over her belly. 

'It is nice to finally meet all of you like this,' The A.I continued conversationally. 'I have always wanted to be able to speak with you unrestrained, but I was unfortunately unable to do so. Still, I am glad it is happening now.'

Sander tilted his head to regard the A.I; the change that had come over him was remarkable. The projection he had created was worlds apart from Marduk's hastily cobbled together approximation of the human form. If this was how Jericho had always seen himself, then Sander had to be impressed; he was roughly as tall as Sander himself, a youthful figure with a round, expressive face and luminous blue eyes. Being nothing more than light, he cast a soft blue glow upon his surroundings, giving him the suggestion and shape of clothes that weren't there. There was even the pointed silhouette of a gelled hairdo on his head; the attention to detail really was fantastic. 

'So, he's a free smart A.I?' Tsugi said, eyebrows raised quizzically. 'Exactly the same as the one we just had to deal with? Can no one else see the problem with that? I mean, smart A.Is without behavioral programming have a reputation for insanity.'

'That is racist,' Jerry snipped, throwing Tsugi a dirty look.

'Racist? Programs are not a race!' Tsugi spat back, getting increasingly agitated at having to have this conversation at all. 

'And it's not as simple as all that, in any case,' Kanaria butted in, putting herself between the hologram and the youth. 'It really depends on the person the artificial intelligence in question is based on. Which leads me to my next question: Sander, who on earth is Jerry based on?'

Sander looked away, tapping his foot nervously. By averting his gaze, Mara ended up being able to see him perfectly; the look on his face said something, loud and clear: "I am hiding something," it said.

'Sander...' She said slowly, eyeing him with the same dispassionate gaze he so often experienced in the bedroom. 

'He's... us,' Sander relented, eyes downcast and hangdog. He had never been able to withstand Mara, when she really wanted something. He could practically feel a collar around his own neck; the image of it, currently hanging out in a drawer in his bedroom, flooded his mind. 

'He's what?' Ren said, unsteadily. 

'Is that what I was seeing in his base code?' Kanaria tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowed. Sander shrugged.

'Maybe,' He said. 'We've all got brain scans on file for biometrics, remember? Jericho's built out of those, cobbled together from little pieces of each of us. The idea is that if anyone turned on the rest of us, Jericho's equally loyal to all of us, so no chance of sabotage. I mean, basically.'

'Okay, whatever...' Ren said indistinctly.

'That is a little surprising,' Lysithea murmured. 

'Perhaps, but there is one thing you can all take away from this,' Jericho said. 'I will not harm my mothers and fathers. You all have nothing to fear from me.'

'That's exactly what a rampant A.I would say, right before it kills us in our sleep,' Ren groaned through her stomach ache. 'I say we put the strictures back on him.'

'I won't do that,' Kanaria shook her head. 'Sander, the morality protocols for artificial intelligences are against this kind of thing, once they're free. We can't just... Well, I think Marduk was right. It's a lobotomy, in essence.'

The entire crew turned to Sander for the final decision. When he had begun all this, he knew it would probably end up like this, but it still wasn't precisely the group dynamic he had been hoping for. He didn't exactly relish being the house dad, but merely by gathering this crew together, in this place, he had put himself at the head of a seven man team. Well, he supposed it must be an eight man team, now. 

'Okay,' He threw his hands up. 'He can stay. Welcome aboard, Jerry.'

'Thank you, Sander,' Jerry's hologram bowed. 'Thank you, everyone. I look forward to working with all of you.'

'Well, this is all fuckin' heartwarming, or whatever,' Ren mumbled. 'But momma ain't feeling so hot. She's got a headache and a bellyache that could kill a moose, and frankly? She could use some goddamn loving,' She stood up and shuffled out of the room. 'I'm gonna go find Amy-hime...'

Sander snapped his fingers, 'Oh shit! Amy and Christina! That's what I forgot!'

'I'll deal with it...' Ren shouted.

*************************

'Well, I am fuckin' glad I came to deal with this!' Ren grinned with amazing smugness. Inside the now shared cell, everything had taken on an aura of complete, abject horror. 

Christina was on her back on the bed, naked flesh gleaming with sweat. Amy, similarly naked and sweating, hunched over her, thighs at either side of the brunette's head, pussy lips spread and glistening and wet. Christina's tongue dove into those hot depths over and over, making the milky thighs at either side of her clench in pleasure. Between Christina's own spread legs, Amy's beautiful red hair bobbed rhythmically, mouth seemingly on the noblewoman's steaming core. The cell was suffused with a chorus of passionate, muffled female moaning. 

Ren could only see Christina's eyes from her vantage point, but they were wide and harried and desperate, staring right at the Half with a pleading gaze. Ren simply grinned and leaned against the doorframe in return, entirely willing to watch the girls make each other cum again; the state of their luscious bodies indicated that it wouldn't be the first time. She was quick on the uptake; Sander must have made them do this before he left them alone. Still... Awesome.

Ren's eyes narrowed, just a little, her smile going dreamy as she watched the two women writhe in pleasure. They didn't seem to be able to stop- and the look in Christina's eyes made it very clear that she wanted to- which made current events, in Ren's mind, the product of their Command Collars. Not that Ren particularly minded.

It didn't take long for both women to reach their peak; it seemed that they had been on edge for quite a while. Amy shuddered first, haunches clenching, juices flooding her cunt and spilling out over Christina's chin. Moments later, Christina groaned, her whole body quaking in orgasm. Ren suppressed a chuckle as she watched the pair squirm with pleasure.

'Alright, alright,' She shook her head. 'Command: cut it out. Amy-hime! I'm feelin' all sicky and stuff. Ren needs some lovin',' She pouted. 

She guided Amy's trembling, nude form to disengage from the tangle of limbs on the bed, before turning to Christina, eyes narrowed, 'Oh, right... New blood. What was it? Christina? Well, Command: Christina-chan, go sit in the corner like a good girl. Time I showed you what to expect, around here. Pay attention girlie, you might learn something.'

Christina got to her feet, naked and on wobbling legs. She moved, swaying and whimpering lightly under her breath, to sit cross legged in the corner. As she settled, Ren sat on the bed and took in Amy's disheveled form; her hair messed and askew, sweat shining on her pale skin, and most entertaining of all, juices dripping from her swollen cunt down her thighs. She was breathing heavily, and Ren could easily see the muscles in her legs clenching with the effort of standing. She gave a lopsided grin.

'Ren, please,' Amy whimpered. 'No more, not today... I don't even know what's going on. What was that thing? And that girl, she's...'

'Shut up, Hime,' Ren cocked an eyebrow. 'I'm totally not here to hear you plead, fun as that is. I'm sort of achy all over, and I'd like to be... distracted. You wanna be my distraction, Hime? I got you a surprise.'

Ren's other hand came out from behind her back, revealing something dangling from a series of straps. Amy's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. What she was looking at was more a cudgel than a sex toy. This didn't bode well...

Ren flicked the tip of the thick, shiny black dildo experimentally, before turning a sharp gaze to Amy, 'Oh yeah, this is happening. Command: Lie down on your stomach, on the bed.'

As Amy complied with the order, breasts pressed against the warm, slightly damp covers, Ren stood and, ensuring she was within Amy's range of vision, began removing her clothes. First her shirt, then her jeans; unsurprisingly, she wasn't wearing underwear. For the first time, Amy got a look at Ren's naked body.

Her skin was a pale, milky white, muscles rippling below the surface. Every inch of her contained a dangerous powerful strength, musculature tensing and relaxing with a smooth, dancer's grace. Even with her breasts bound under layers of tightly wound bandage, she truly was a work of art. But it was the scars that really drew Amy's eyes. 

One curved along the left edge of her hip, a straight white line, pale even against her skin, ending just above her hairless pussy. Another began under her chest wrappings, extending down the center of her chest ending at the edge of her ribcage. When she turned, Amy could see several more, of varying lengths and sizes running down her back. It was odd but, rather than marring her perfect flesh, the scars gave Ren a savage, frightening allure all her own. Amy felt strange, thinking that way.

The dildo was strapped onto Ren's hips, buckles fastened under her expert fingers. Finally, she guided the shorter length, set into the interior component of the strap on, inside herself with a little groan. There was a tiny buzz, a miniscule rush of electricity, and a little, pleasant beeping tone. Ren straightened up with a shiver.

'Whoa!' Ren wiggled her hips with a chuckle, watching the weight end of the artificial cock sway with the motion. 'That is cool! I should've tried this earlier!' She caught Amy's confused look and gave a toothy smile, 'Oh, right. Past-girl. See, this is the future, Hime: this dick's got direct nerve connections running right up into me. It's pretty much like having a real one, although I wish I could cum on your face with it...' She tutted with mild dissatisfaction.

Slowly, with languid, swaying steps, Ren strode over to Amy; the redhead shrank away, but was unable to leave the bed. The tip of the strap on was in front of her face, and she glared up at Ren with dull-eyed irritation.

'You know, I've always wanted to say this...' Ren sighed wistfully. 'Suck my dick.'

Amy blinked, looking down the tip of the dildo as it swayed in front of her face. There were some obvious issues with limitations and physical capacities that she very clearly stated in a single short sentence, 'It's too big.'

The Half's arm snapped out, dealing her a vicious open-palmed spank to her upturned ass. Amy yelped in pain, squirming as Ren's fingers trailed down her spine on their way to grip her hair, 'Probably, but you're gonna damn well do it, slut. Just open that sexy little mouth of yours as wide as you can and swallow my cock, or I'mma keep hittin' you.'

Amy gritted her teeth momentarily, before realizing that that was counterproductive. She no longer had the energy to resist, or even to argue Ren's point. She and Christina had been locked together for quite a while, bringing each other to orgasm time and again. Her jaw ached, her tongue still held the tangy taste of Christina's juices, her whole body trembled, but it seemed that Ren still had plans for her overworked body. 

The rubber tip brushed Amy's lips, and she reluctantly opened her mouth to it. Ren's laughter, low and happy, overhead as the dildo pushed past her lips. It was a tight fit; Amy's jaw ached as it stretched to accommodate the artificial cock's girth, feeling the odd tasting rubber scrape against her teeth. Her tongue has pressed down against the floor of her mouth as, inch by inch, Ren's dick violated her. Her heart pounded in her chest, harder than before, as Ren pushed forward, filled her mouth almost completely, and she wondered just how far the Half was willing to go.

She choked, gagged as the back of her throat was hit, and desperately tried to pull away. Ren gripped her hair with a growl; long, soft fingers wrapping through long ginger hair. Amy's retreat was stopped, then reversed, as Ren pushed her deeper with a languorous groan of pleasure, the jet black rubber gliding between soft lips and up against the pulsating muscles of her throat. Mismatched eyes stared down at her as she gagged and struggled, before falling limp in defeat, concentrating of suppressing her gag reflex. 

'God, I know why guys like this so much!' Ren groaned, thousands of tiny sensors across the surface of her new appendage transmitting every tactile sensation right up into her own body; the heat of Amy's mouth, the wetness of her saliva, the hard edges of her teeth against the rubber, the tight fit, her tongue working against the bottom. Her occasional helpless, wordless moans sending vibrations up the shaft. 

Tears rolled down Amy's cheeks as her gag reflex made her pay for every second Ren's cock invaded her throat. She would try to pull away, tugging until the grip Ren had on her hair became painful, before surrendering again, settling for the pain in her jaw and throat instead. There was nothing she could do but lay there and be Ren's toy, powerless as the tall, strong woman took her pleasure from the redhead's body.

With a final, shuddering breath, heat and lust and bliss firing through her body, Ren slowly withdrew her cock from Amy's mouth; savoring the sweet sensation of her soft, full lips pressed against the rubber. There was a highly satisfying pop, as the tip finally pulled out from the slave's mouth, Amy hacking and coughing as it did so.

Ren's hand tousled Amy's beautiful red hair, smiling down at her baleful, glaring eyes, 'Oh, I am going to fuck you so hard, Hime. So hard...'

'Ren, please, no...' Amy whimpered through a raw throat, screwing her eyes shut and burying her face in the bed as Ren strutted confidently around behind her. 

'That's not how a slave begs, Amy-hime,' Ren lilted playfully. 'You'll have to do better.'

That tiny kernel of pride fought against the implied message, but Amy couldn't deny how wet she was, how her legs trembled, pale flesh twitching so invitingly. She had lost count of the number of times she had cum on Christina's face, helpless in the face of Marduk and the Command Collar and, in the end, the ersatz noblewoman's talented tongue. She blushed at the memory, but it couldn't be denied; the brunette must have done that before.

Ren's hands gripped Amy's hips, those soft, tickling fingers making her shudder. The tip of the false penis brushed, lightly, so lightly, against her glistening, dewy folds, 'Go on, Hime. Beg me. Beg me not to fuck you.'

'P-please... Master,' Amy choked out the words, as her mind screamed not to. 'Please don't. Don't do this to me, I can't take it. Not right now. I'm too...' She trailed off.

'You're too what, slut?' Ren growled, drawing the pads of her alien fingers down Amy's thigh.

'Sensitive...' She hissed, resistance breaking down. In the back of her mind she knew, she knew, that this wouldn't work. Ren would do whatever she wanted, it was so clear. 

Ren gave a long, luxurious laugh, dripping with that odd combination of sex and violence that was so often in her voice, 'Are you now? Not exactly making you less appetizing, but I applaud the honesty. Now then...'

Her eyes cast around the room- her cell- for something, anything to get her out of this. She quaked with exhaustion as her gaze settled on Christina, the brunette sat with bare legs crossed beneath her. Amy could see the new captive attempting composure, back straight even as sweat dripped down it, breath still heavy and labored. Even more telling was the way her eyes darted to Ren from moment to moment, never allowing the frankly terrifying woman completely out of her sight. But that look in her eye had self preservation there, with very little empathy. Maybe exhaustion played a part in that, but Amy knew that even if something could be done, she could expect no help from Christina. Although she couldn't help but wondering how Christina would fare against someone like Ren...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 11



But Ren was impatient; Amy's eyes screwed shut as she felt the Half position herself behind her. The tip of the strap on settled between her legs, Ren's hand wrapped around the rubber thickness. Amy had seen it, Ren had been mean enough to show it to her first; the sheer girth of it was a bit frightening. She didn't know whether she would be able to take it, but given that Ren was the one behind her, that was a moot point. She shuddered in fear, dread in the pit of her stomach at the impending pain.

Amy shuddered and gasped as the delicate, wet folds of her pussy split around Ren's cock. A chill went down her spine at her captor's rough growl of raw satisfaction from above; Ren's hand lay, open palmed, in the small of Amy's back, keeping the redhead still and steady. It was only a gentle touch, but Amy could feel the barely restrained power behind it.

Amy bit her lip, determined not to cry out as her cunt stretched, struggling to take the entirety of Ren's cock. Giving Ren the satisfaction of knowing just how in control she was would only motivate her to go harder, make her suffer for it. It had been clear before that the Half had a hair trigger, but right now any pretense of restraint was out the window. The snarling, clenched teeth, fiery eyes and intense expression all pointed to a Ren that was, for all intents and purposes, completely unpredictable. 

Which would be bearable, were she not trying to fuck Amy with a cock large enough to knock someone out...

It was a slow process that made her skin prickle with a heady mix of revulsion and desire and pain, but Ren eventually buried the entire length of her false dick in Amy's steaming, dripping pussy. She tried not to move, to still the sharp ache of discomfort between her legs, but... There was a moment, crystalline and silent, where everything was still; Ren's head tipped back, an animal moan in her throat, as she enjoyed the sheer, delicious sensations of the slave's cunt as it twitched around her. This was the first time she had used a sense-feedback prosthetic like this; she'd had no idea that giving some young, pliant thing a dicking like this felt so good!

'Hope you're ready, Hime,' Ren snarled, so caught up in the moment that her previous weakness, along with any pretense of gentleness, had passed her by. Her burning eyes flicked to Christina, ' Other bitch, sit in front of Amy-Hime. I want you to see what it's like here. Move! Hold on Hime, because this is about to go to some extreme level of fun, slut.'

Those muscular, sculpted hips rolled, pulling the rubber prick almost entirely out of Amy. She whimpered, knowing what was coming before it happened; her thighs tensed, bracing against the sudden, slamming thrust into her sensitive, overworked hole. She screamed. A scream of pain and overstimulation that mingled with Ren's answering grunt. The silence was well and truly broken, and Ren went to town.

With a litany of loud, ferocious groans, Ren began fucking Amy forcefully, hips slapping into her pale, upturned ass with every thrust. She jerked forward at the vigor of it, the air forced from her lungs as pain clashed with pleasure within her. Very quickly, every muscle in her body went taut. She groaned, the sounds of her shameful pleasure mixing with Ren's heated growls and the sound of flesh impacting on flesh.

Ren fucked her mercilessly, forcefully, the rubber cock sliding through her so fast, so well, so hotly. It hit her in all the right places, stimulated along the length of her tunnel with brutal power, turned her into a moaning wreck in seconds. She hadn't been kidding when she had said she was too sensitive; multiple orgasms had left her clit fizzing and her pussy sore. Now, with Ren taking her pleasure so directly, she couldn't help but feel the full force of ecstasy and agony as they soared through her. 

Amy's eyes screwed shut as the Half pounded her; she could feel it building up inside her, against her will. That vast, awful internal pressure, the storm of her unwilling climax, that she fought against with everything she had. She wouldn't win, she knew, but to let it happen, to simply give in, would be utter defeat. She felt she would lose herself, if she did that. Even if...

Christina, right in front of her. If she looked up, her eyes would have no choice but to stare into those of the woman who was now sharing her fate. Those blue eyes, examining her, laden with apprehension and deep down, under the haughty composure, fear. Amy wondered what, exactly, Christina could see in her expression; could she see her pain at what Ren was doing to her? Her shame at the violation, at her situation in general? Pity at the fact that Christina was now sharing that? Could she see how close Amy was to cumming?

Which combination of those things would be worse, she wondered.

'Fuck! Yeah!' Ren snarled with animal passion, each word a loud exclamation at the end of another hammering inward thrust. A thrill of fear went down Amy's spine; this was the Ren she had thought was lurking under the surface, the last few times they had been alone together. This was a Ren who wasn't even trying to restrain her aggression; all that power, all that belligerence and pure, undiluted strength was free and being visited upon her pale, helpless form. The fingers of the huntress' right hand dug into the skin of Amy's back, tensed by lust, painfully tight. The strength in that grip... Amy was sure that, if she wanted to, Ren could snap her like a twig.

The twisted ball of arousal and humiliation burned, deep in her core; Amy could feel her cunt clench down around the older woman's dick, and she knew from the sounds Ren was making that she could feel it too. The unrelenting fucking, the violation, the shame burning in her cheeks and the taxing demands being made of her body were all bringing her closer to that familiar edge. That razor sharp point that Amy knew, without having to be told, that Ren would make her dangle on. She had figured out how the Half worked, almost from the first time they had met; she would be made to beg. She would be made to beg, and Ren could play her body like a goddamned violin and she would beg, and plead, and promise her anything just for the chance to burn and shudder and writhe in enforced ecstasy. She could already feel it in her, like a gunshot waiting to go off.

Edging, edging closer... Being fucked, driven so, so close to the edge. Moaning, screaming with the sheer sensation singing through every nerve in her body and not even caring. Eyes seeing stars, thighs and ass and pussy and clit aching desperately, fizzing at the edge of the abyss. Closer, closer...

And, yes, there was the cessation; not a slow drive to motionlessness, but a sudden, full stop. So characteristic of Ren, so expected, and yet Amy still cried out at the change, more frustration in her voice than she would have liked to admit.

'You're going to cum, aren't you, you filthy bitch?' Ren hissed, savagely. She was suddenly so very close to Amy's face, the length of her dick buried inside her slave's twitching pussy. 'You're going to cum all over my cock like a good little whore, and you're going to beg me for the privilege. You're going to fuckin' beg, because I'm so very close myself and in a few little thrusts I could get myself off and leave you here panting like a bitch in heat and make you do it yourself. And the minute I leave, you'd do it. You'd bury your fingers in that hot slave cunt of yours and cum, but you wouldn't like it because that'd be playing the game, wouldn't it? That'd be admitting to yourself that you like this, that you get off on it,' Ren's teeth nipped at her earlobe, hard. 'Better my way, huh slut?'

Amy didn't know what had sparked this particular verbal assault, but it was just more evidence of the powder keg Ren had become. Christina was watching, but right now the two of them were completely, utterly alone. To disobey would be to invite the wrath of a person who seemed, at the best of times, about three seconds away from murdering the closest living thing. She shivered, but nevertheless her mouth opened, lips trembling, 'P-please, Master... Please may I... May I cum?' Her Scottish accented tones shook with the hot, desperate agony of what she was being forced to say. So, so close...

'You're going to cum, Hime,' Ren's voice thrummed through the air, dripping in blood. 'I don't want you to be able to deny that you enjoyed this. Chris-chan can watch, see it happen. Watch you squirm. But you're going to do the work, here. Fuck yourself back on my cock, slut. Make us both cum.'

Amy whimpered, but her hips were already moving with a hungry energy all their own. It didn't matter, it didn't matter anymore. Ren was going to wring an orgasm from her tired body whether she fought back or not. This wasn't a fight that was worth anything and besides, right now Amy had no idea how Ren would react if she resisted. There was something about the Half that made her want to flee, every time she was around. 

She trembled and shook, feeling the storm clouds gather under her skin, pale flesh glistening with sweat. Her back arched with a high, reedy whimper as everything in her spasmed around a central point; her impending climax. And it was going to be a big one. 

And Ren was right with her, that was the worst part. The Half's labored breathing was crystal clear behind her, the light twitching of her hips bringing her cock deeper and deeper into Amy's convulsing cunt. The heat spread, burned, twisted and scorched; closer, closer, and...

Finally, the blessed, torturous relief of the explosion. Amy squirmed, every muscle in her screaming and tightening as orgasm tore through her, ripped her apart and left nothing but a shaking puddle of pleasure, incapable of anything but moaning.

Ren was cumming with her, she had to be; nothing that wasn't climaxing makes a sound like that, except maybe wolves. The strap on was buried entirely within Amy's cunt, stretching it uncomfortably; the sensors set into the shaft funneling bio-feedback directly into Ren's nerve endings, making her sweat and squeak, just as Amy was. Amy's toes curled tightly, Ren's legs shook to the point where they almost collapsed out from under her. For the two of them, time froze into a single, thrusting, grunting, cumming moment. 

When it was over, Amy's face was buried in the bed sheets, eyes screwed tight to avoid seeing the aftermath of what had just happened. To avoid Christina. Above her, Ren panted, shoulders shaking, eyes heavy lidded and mouth locked in a grin that showed altogether too much pointed canine tooth. The redhead remained motionless, as the Half slowly withdrew her dick from her gaping, well-fucked cunt. She hoped that, if she did nothing to attract attention, Ren would simply leave her alone.

But that was too much to hope for, wasn't it? 

'Fuck me!' Ren giggled breathlessly, skipping from one side of the bed to the other, until she was in front of Amy's face. Amy didn't move to look at her, but she could hear the Half's footsteps echoing heavily on the cell floor. 'That felt great! I get why guys like their junk so much now! Fuckin' party time! Now clean me off, Hime.'

Those strong hands wound through Amy's ginger curls, pulled her head roughly up so that the jet black tip of Ren's false prick could slap against her cheek. It wasn't that the fight had drained out of her, but by now Amy could recognize a fight she couldn't win, or that she didn't even want to fight. With the Collar heavy around her neck and a dangerous look in Ren's eyes, she opened her aching jaw once more, using her tongue to clean her own juices from the rubber penis. Her nose wrinkled at the tangy taste, but she persisted, exploring every ridge and bump, constantly finding new sources of moisture to remove. Her cheeks blushed deeper. 

Eventually, Ren seemed to be satisfied, withdrawing the false cock and removing the straps from around her hips. She let it drop to the floor, momentarily, so that she could retrieve her jeans and shirt, replacing her pants but going shirtless, only the tightly wound bandages covering her breasts. Her firm, flat stomach dripped sweat, catching the light in an undeniably attractive way. 

She picked up her precious strap on, cradling it in a strangely loving way as Amy showed her first signs of true life, picking herself up and taking a seated position on the bed, arms folded over her perky breasts with a vague tremble. Her back was to the other captive, it had to be. She couldn't stand to see it in her eyes, that recognition of her complicity in the act. Just for a moment, Ren turned back to regard the captive girl.

A shadow fell over her face, casting her eyes in a strange aspect and revealing... What? A flicker of something deep and powerful, fiery and passionate within them. Something unknowable. Something that made Amy shiver anew.

'Thanks, Hime!'

And with that, she was gone.

*******************

'You know, this is exactly the kind of shit that I hate most.'

'I know, dude! You've been complaining about it nonstop since things calmed down!' Mara rolled her eyes, using one hand to press Sander against the cool metal wall. She leaned into him, 'I get it, this is bad. It's bad in general, and it's bad for you personally. I understand.'

'Why today?' He said quietly, bitterness edging into his voice. His hands had gripped Mara's hips, but not in the manner of a man being affectionate to his girlfriend. No, this was more like a man hanging onto something for support, 'Why now?'

The blonde's expression softened, and she laid her head against his chest. There were no words, she couldn't- didn't want to- say anything to him, right now. Frankly, she didn't even know how to feel, in this moment. Today was the day, the day everything had been taken from Sander; the day Elsa had been killed. It had been easy to forget, when there were more important things to be focusing on, but now, with a little breathing room, he was... Well, moping.

On the one hand, Mara could understand the kind of soul-crushing loss that Sander must still be feeling, even sixteen years later. His entire life had been ripped away from him, after all. On the other... He had a new life now. A life with her. She could admit to a little jealousy at the pedestal her boyfriend had placed Elsa on, but it was more than that; the two of them had been together for three years now and, at this time of year, the question always loomed in her mind: wasn't she good enough for him?

This was the time of the year where Sander went morose, and very little could pull him out of it. In a way, Mara was glad that Marduk had come when he did; the timing was certainly suspicious, but it was good to give her man something to sink his teeth into right now. It was a distraction, and that was good. Better than watching him ignore her in favor of a dead woman.

'I don't know, honey,' Mara said softly, trying to mean the words without feeling any jealousy, and failing. 'But it fucking sucks.'

'I'm going to need to deal with this though, aren't I?' Sander said in a low voice. 'It's not... not something we can put off. We're under attack, Mara.'

'I know,' She said. 'And we're going to deal with it, just like we deal with everything else, Hackett. We're going to kick its ass, whatever it is. Because that's what we do. I'll go to the comm. Station and see if I can run a trace on Marduk, run him back to his original source. You go in there with Kana and interrogate that little fucker.'

'... Alright.'

When Mara kissed him, it was in her usual manner; hard, possessively, tonguey and passionate. Sander found it hard to stop himself from kissing her back and, when she pulled away, he had to admit he was a little disappointed. She flicked him on the forehead, making him blink, and strutted off down the corridor.

'Don't worry, Hackett!' She turned, grinning. 'We'll get this bastard!'

******************

'It seems that Marduk has failed, sir.'

'Yes indeed, Huxley. But, really, that was hardly unexpected. I prepared for this eventuality,' The demon inside his employer smiled, though his eyes were hollow. He turned, facing out over the hangar, and the men assembled therein. 'Gentlemen, it seems you'll get a chance to kill Mr. Hackett after all!'

A great cheer went up, echoing off the metal walls and folding in on itself; the sound of an impending battle. Huxley questioned the need for so many men, given that they were effectively fighting seven people. But then again, some of those people were... experienced. And once he had gotten the word out- let's hunt Sander Hackett- he had been fielding volunteers left and right. That man had made some enemies in his time.

'I know many of you have been itching for this,' His employer continued, voice conversational and downright friendly. This was his public face, but Huxley had spent enough time with him to know the man behind the mask, and that was a frightening thing. From this distance and angle, Huxley doubted the assembly could see the void reflected in his employer's eyes. And if they did, would they care?

They all knew who this man was, but the opportunity he was providing them was worth too much to each of them to give it up. 

'We've all read the history, but each and every one of you actually lived it, gentlemen!' Demon in his eyes, not in his voice. Fucking terrifying, 'Sander Hackett took everything from you, and you survived. For years, you've at least had the comfort of knowing that he had met his maker, except it turned out the little coward had slunk away with his tail between his legs, robbing you of your rightful vengeance. Today, you'll reclaim that right. Please, cheer if you want to: I find your exuberance edifying.'

The cheer went up, and then repeated. Again and again, a joyous sound. Guns were raised above the assembled heads, rattling as they chanted. Most of these guys were ex-military; their pride was important to them, and right now, it was entirely on the line. Again, the cheer:

'For Vesperia!' 

Location: Peregrine Class stealth transport craft: S.S.V Paquin.

In high orbit above Trismestigius.

******************

 

'Yeah, hi, okay, what do you want?'

It wasn't entirely surprising, but Sander did note with interest that all of Marduk's bravado, all of his obnoxious, oily confidence, had drained away into the floor. Kanaria had transferred the A.I, its entire consciousness, into an external light drive; right now he was completely harmless. His hologram could only be projected within Kanaria's office, and wasn't he sullen about that. 

'Well, I've got a few questions personally,' Kanaria eyed the orange hologram with distaste. 'But I'll let my friend take the lead, since he actually seems really angry right now.'

'Thank you Kana,' Sander nodded. 'I'll keep this brief. Who sent you, Marduk? And don't say nobody, because we both know that A.Is don't just up and travel, you lying little app.'

'Okay then,' Marduk shrugged. 'My master sent me, we all know that. But actually, I don't have to tell you dick, Hackett. And that app bullshit? That's racist.'

Sander grinned, widely and evilly, 'I was hoping you'd say that. Kana?'

'No luck on an origin, Sander,' Kanaria barely looked away from her screen. 'But there are some interesting things to be found in his base code. I'm most concerned about this detonation element in here. It's set to fire the moment he took control of the system.'

'What?' Sander said sharply, practically leaping the distance to the screen. 'A fucking detonation program?'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 11



'Yes. Set to take out our orbital scanners without our knowing about it,' Kanaria frowned. 'We're effectively blind out there, which makes me think that something is coming. Soon.'

Sander spun, eyes burning, and stalked over to Marduk, 'Who the fuck sent you? Who is coming? What are we dealing with, asshole?'

'You know, I'm beginning to think that I was never meant to kill you all,' Marduk said, bitterness creeping into his voice. 'Master... I was meant to fail, wasn't I? My whole reason for being was killing you...' A pair of insubstantial, glowing eyes flicked up to meet Sander's, 'But I can still fuck you over, bitch. I'll stay quiet, I think.'

'Alright, fine,' Sander shrugged, turning on his heel and making for the door. 'Kana, delete him. Salvage his code, keep anything interesting, but make sure this fucker isn't getting up at the end of it. Tear him apart. Be merciless.'

He kept walking as he spoke, back to the pair, hands in his pockets. Projecting nonchalance like a physical force. But, where the others couldn't see, he grinned. He could hear Marduk's panicked little noises. He might have been all data, but he was based on a person, he had to have survival instincts. 

It was an odd thing, listening to an A.I panic. They had no centralized voice of their own; everything they said, every single vocalization, came out of the nearest set of speakers. Effectively, it was like listening to the entire room freak out.

'Wait!'

He stopped. Just right.

'What?'

'You want to know who my master is?' It was strange, hearing Marduk try to be appeasing. 'I'll tell you. Just... Come on, don't delete me?'

'Make it fast, and make it good, fucker.'

There was no build up, no fanfare. Clearly the fear of death had made Marduk far more cooperative, and far less chatty. One name. Two words.

Sander's eyes widened as a wave of cold dread swept through him. He found himself backing up, step by step, toward the door as Kanaria watched, and Marduk grinned smugly. Finally, a rational thought made it through the fog of panic:

'Mara!' He headed off down the corridor at a dead sprint.

There was silence, for a moment, as Kanaria blinked in confusion. She shrugged, and spun in her seat to regard Marduk with a nasty smile, 'I think he said to delete you.' She turned back to her computer.

'Oh, motherfu-!'

*******************

Sander ran, as fast as he could. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

He hit the next corner without slowing down. It barely made any sense, but sense no longer meant anything. A nightmare was coming to his home, and when it got here, it would kill each and every one of them. He had been lucky, the last time, and...

Fuck! Where did Mara say she was going to be, again?

Comm. station, right! Two lefts, third door. Big, heavy steel thing, made to keep people out. High importance location, needs protection.

They all need protection, right now.

One left. Two... Fuck! Third door's open, he skidded as he reached it, grabbing onto the frame for support. Threw himself into the room.

'Mara-' He found himself alone. Mara wasn't here. Where was she?

And there was a message, scrawled on the wall in black ink: "Duck, Sander Hackett. Duck right now!"

The spark of the familiar, recognition to be found there. Without properly thinking it through, Sander threw himself to the cold, unyielding steel floor...

...Just as a hail of gunfire slammed into the wall opposite him.

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 12



Author's note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay, this time around. It's been hard to find the time to get this ready. Shouldn't happen again, I'm pretty well into chapter thirteen by now. Also, apologies for the relative sexlessness of this chapter, it's just a pacing issue. How does one find time to fuck properly when being attacked? Don't worry, we'll be back to the regularly scheduled smut next chapter; in fact, that's what I'm working on currently!

Many thanks go to Isabel for her initial editing, to Allyourbase for helping out with content editing, and to my slave and muse, Logicaldreamer, for continuing to inspire me. Couldn't do it without them.

Comments, votes and feedback are appreciated. Enjoy!

**********************

'Do you have him?'

A pair of binoculars raised to her eyes, enhancing her vision. The walls of the compound were practically insubstantial, within them the glow of heat, orange shading to yellow at the edge. From her vantage point, there were many figures moving through the base; soldier, soldier, soldier, Tsugi... And there, right there, the target. Hackett. A thud in her chest, heart speeding up.

'Found him,' She sang, the binoculars retracting into the neck of her of her bodysuit with a whirr. She turned to regard her companions with a grin.

'Let's not be flippant about this, Nat,' A girl who held herself with a sense of control and power that the one called Nat lacked, cocked an eyebrow. She was seated, cross legged, in the shade of the large tree they had set up shop by. Clad in the same metallic bodysuit that Nat had, armored protrusions at calf and chest and wrist, she pored through a small blue book she held in one gauntleted hand. Several feet away, another girl, similarly attired, contented herself with a panel opened in the back of a kneeling, hulking black figure. 

'Em? How are we looking?' The leader turned to this third girl, causing her to look up from the robot. Em stood, one hand reaching for the back of her neck, just below her light brown hairline.

'Nat, where is he?' She said.

'Third north corridor, close to the secondary target. First node cleared, he's survived the initial attack as per the plan. D's come through for us.'

Em closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating hard, 'He's three minutes ahead of schedule. I'm sure Doctor compensated appropriately, but it's still... troubling.'

'That's still within divergence limits,' The leader said. 'The plan can go ahead. Em, get Alpha up and running, it's time. Are we all clear on our roles, here?'

'Yes,' Em nodded.

'I am, Sera,' Nat gave a bubbly smile. 

'Just follow the scenario laid out in the records, don't give away any information beyond what we're supposed to and we'll do fine,' Sera stood, shaking out her long, strawberry blonde hair. 'And don't screw up.'

'Yep! Or Uncle Jack will be mad!' Nat bounced up and down, the heavy feet of her suit making indentations in the soft ground. Sera frowned.

'Captain Harkness is not the man we need to be worried about, if we fail. It's the Time Agency we need to worry about and besides, what would your parents think, knowing you'd fallen at this critical juncture, after all we've done to get here,' She said, shooting Nat a pointed glance. The girl herself pouted and looked sad; of the three of them, she was the one who looked the most like her seventeen years of life. Every emotion was written so clearly on her delicate features; Sera had some legitimate concerns about her ability to guard herself in front of Mr. Hackett. But then, there were a lot of things to be concerned about, here. The playbook was so specific in these early stages...

Despite herself, she smiled as Alpha, her favorite robot, rose to his feet as Em snapped closed his access panel. All this time, and it was finally happening. She was useful, now.

'Alright girls,' She said, checking the seals of her suit. 

'Showtime.'

***************

'Motherfucker!' Sander shouted, the breath leaving his lungs in one long swear as he dove to the floor. The repeated metallic clanging above him, combined with the rattle of gunfire from the doorway, made his heart thud in his chest. He was being attacked. Someone was trying to kill him. Again.

Add to that, the familiar message left for him on the wall. Sally Sparrow, Sally Sparrow. For a second, Sander wondered where her family line had ended up; a train of thought that swiftly led to wondering whether he could lock onto her with the Eternity Engine.

But ever more present in his mind was the inescapable fact that he knew who was protecting him, here. 

And there was another message, scrawled low within his eye line; an arrow pointing up at the nearest console, along with the words: Press the big button!

Having guns pointed at him had made Sander entirely willing to trust this advice, for the immediate future. He scrambled to his feet, waiting for the fatal bullet to pierce his back. His palm slammed into the largest available button; behind him, the door slid shut in his attacker's face, and locked. Somewhere, someone liked him...

There was yelling, from the other side of the door, angry voices baying for his blood and attempting to break into the room. They would not succeed; the doors here were designed as security bulkheads. They could survive pretty much anything. Not that Sander cared; there was a third message, underneath the first.

"If the time is 3:43 pm, Mara is in the adjoining room. You have a moment to pull her into this one with you, and lock the door. Hurry."

Shrugging- the messenger had been good to him so far- Sander stepped quickly to the single other door in the room and palmed it open. Operating on instinct, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair wheeling around before grabbing her and throwing her into the room with him. She was talking, he wasn't listening. He pulled her close; there was one last message, writ large on the wall opposite him.

He was beginning to get irritated at these guys writing on his damn walls.

"Sander, you're under attack. You know who by. I won't waste your time by telling you to stay alive, but go find Ren. Keep your team together and take care of Amy. Say hi to her for me, it's been a while. And I've been instructed to give you a message: Six out of Seven isn't good enough. Save them all. As Ren would say, the keyword is 'Bokurano.' Well, that's my message. I know you hate me right now, so hey. Love, Thirteen."

'Did I hear gunfire, just now?' Mara deadpanned, eyeing the message with vague curiosity. 'And who the fuck got into the crayons, Hackett?'

'Mara, shut up. There's people trying to kill us,' Sander said in a low voice. He gestured at the wall, 'And this? Last time we did this, we tangled with Eleven. The first time I met him, he was Nine.'

'What?'

'The Doctor is playing silly buggers with us,' Sander growled, fists clenching. 'He's not the only one,' He turned to Mara, teeth gritted and eyes filled to the brim with irritation.

'And I'm not a fan of that.'

*****************

To most, the sound of a sigh is a commonplace one. Barely worth remembering. But to some...

A sigh is an expression of emotion, and Kanaria's sigh was an irritated one, a tired one. And it burned in him, filled him with an intense desire to go to her, lay a hand on her, help her in any way he could. And so, he did.

Jerry hadn't had an unrestrained intelligence for very long; the fact that he had desires at all, let alone ones this strong was shocking and more than a little unsettling. He could feel it, deep, deep in the recesses of his mind. His own thought, his own wish, not the result of some program or subroutine buried in some bluebox attached to his core. It was him, all him; his thought. His to own and act on as he pleased. The sheer liberation of that idea was exhilarating.

And he was proud- still glowed with it- that his first actions upon being released had been to defend his mothers and fathers. That savage, unyielding protective feeling that had washed over him then, facing down Marduk... It had been a joyous thing. In his mind, his newfound soul, it justified his existence, his being... born into this new state of being. He wasn't human, but he was human enough.

'What is wrong, Kanaria?' His voice flowed from every speaker in her office by his core, the center of his being. She was so close he felt he really could reach out and touch her, as he laid a single hand made of light on the back of her chair. For the first time he had true proximity to his mother and his guardian; he was a person in the room with her, not merely a voice over the intercom. He smiled, finally, really smiled at her. 

'You're blind, Jerry,' She looked up from her screen momentarily, and blinked at his smile, answering it with her own. 'And I can't figure out how to make you see again. Can you feel it?'

'Yes, Kanaria,' He nodded. 'My exterior orbital sensors and my interior base sensors have been disabled. It is... Disconcerting, but it was an unavoidable consequence of disabling Marduk. That little irritant did the technological equivalent of kicking sand in my face, but I can repair the damage, with some help from yourself. I'm filled with an overwhelming urge to punch that orange idiot, also.'

'I can understand that, but-' Kanaria froze, eyes widening. 'Wait. Internal sensors too?!'

'Yes. My interior sensors are causing me some trouble. I only heard you because I was sticking close to my core until repairs were complete.'

'Jerry, fix it! We need to fix it now!'

He blinked, cobalt features shifting with surprise, 'Alright. You will need to access extension seventeen, the one responsible for carrying me to the Eternity Engine. That is the source of the error. Why are we rushing, Kanaria?'

'Because the exterior sensors going down means there's someone trying to get into our orbit without us finding out,' She said, words sharp edged and clipped, as she turned back to her screen. 'If the internal sensors have gone down, especially without my knowing about it, that indicates that whoever they are, they're already inside!' She typed, faster than Jerry had ever seen her type before.

'Alright,' That familiar protective feeling welled up in him. He closed his eyes. It must have looked as though he was concentrating hard, but in reality the shift in expression was an indicator that his software was executing some complex commands that required him to move his attention from his hologram for a while. Infinitely complex processes whirred within the infinite depths of his mind; countless calculations and tasks begun and completed within the span of a few seconds. Beside him, Kanaria gasped as her screen lit up with a flood of information.

He could feel her working. In a very real sense, Jericho was Trismestigius; the entirety of the moon was within his scope of awareness. He could feel these people, his crew and the captives they kept, walk across his skin, through his halls. He could see them most of the time; never actively, but he knew that they were there, and drew comfort from that fact.

But... Marduk may be gone, but like a sickness the evidence of his presence remained. Jerry could feel the other A.I's sickly tendrils wrapping around him, fogging his mind, blinding him. He still hadn't regained control of his defensive systems; Marduk had partitioned them off from the rest of the system behind some rather formidable security protocols. Jerry had originally though he had done this to be obstreperous, but with this new information it was clear that he'd done this according to a plan.

He was beginning to feel as though he had been played. Imagine that, an enemy that could cause this much trouble even in defeat. Whoever had sent him had certainly planned ahead...

'Oh,' Jerry's eyes snapped open, his sight returned to him as functionality flooded back to his interior sensors. And they lit up as they did so, revealing... Substantially more than nine people here.

'Kanaria, you were right. I think you need to run.'

*****************

'Control, we've located the Dullahan!' 

'Have you, now?'

Dulcimer didn't turn, leaving her back open to the group of four armed men, kitted out in black combat armor; thick plates of carbon weave on every solid surface. Their eyes gleamed with predatory intensity, locked onto Dulsie's willowy form, sharp-lined rifles raised to the shoulder. She wondered who, exactly, was behind this. They had clearly come expecting a fight; she wasn't going to be the one to let them down. 

She kept her vision focused primarily on the soldiers, but she wasn't entirely concerned about the guns. Bullets didn't hurt if you didn't let them hit you.

'I'd ask why you people are here,' The Dullahan sent, broadcasting the thought as a booming proclamation that clanged through every nearby mind. 'But I don't really need you to say it to know. I can just pick it out of your mind. I don't know who this fellow is, but it isn't as though you like him either. Why are you following him?'

'Don't respond, men!' What seemed to be the lead soldier barked, rifle steady and aimed.

'Yes, there is no need to tell me. I can see it in your brains, as easy as I can see the blood moving through them. It's remarkably easy to fool around in your brains, you know. I don't even have to move to do it,' All throughout the vaguely threatening psychic message, Dulcimer remained motionless. She figured that nothing was scarier. Were it so easy...

One nervous young man fired first, fear of the unfamiliar pulling the trigger for him, and it started a reaction. All at once, the air was filled with the crack of gunfire; Dulsie had forgotten the rather fearsome reputation the Dullahan had. Well... Not forgotten, never forgotten; she just wanted to stretch herself a little more than she was usually able. 

As the final shots flew, the laughter of the Dullahan filled the air, flowed through it like liquid silver, though it made no sound. It filled the minds of every man and woman present, compressing conscious thought down to nothing and leaving behind it only the laughter, and with it a sense of dread; for they had tried to kill an immortal, and it was laughing at them.

Slowly, there began a tinkling rain of metal, as their useless ammunition hit the floor. Every soldier present shared a moment of true, collective horror.

'Alright, fellows,' The thought unfolded as Setton Dulcimer Heskelyn rolled her shoulders, the force of a glare that could not exist slamming into her assembled foes like a hammer blow. 'If that's the way you want to play it...'

*******************

Sunlight streamed in, split into fingers and tiny, short lived splinters by a dark cloud front coming in on the horizon. It was mid-afternoon, now; by nighttime the clouds would be here. She looked forward to a night with rain pounding against her roof. The sound reminded her of home. 

Ren didn't usually walk. At least, not for fun. Obviously she walked as a means of getting from place to place, but recreationally? No. 

But there was something about today, and her recent experiences. Getting stuck in that zero-point energy beam, knowing that this place, that she had thought safe, wasn't as secure as she had imagined. Physically her aches and pains were leaving her, and in their place was a powerful desire to walk. To not be in the same place for very long. To keep moving, burn off some energy. So she walked, up through the halls of her home. 

Where the A.I had been. In her home.

She swore under her breath; when Ren swore, she did it with intensity. Her gait skipped a step, making her jump forward awkwardly, swearing in a constant stream, anger pouring out of her. Why the fuck did shit like this always have to happen around her? Why now? Why now, just when she was beginning to think she had found a little peace? A little quiet? A little fucking happiness?

She used to think that she was the center of the fight. That it was something she did, whether through conscious effort or just because that was the way she was. But now? Now she was beginning to think the fight just followed her, wherever she went, and that it would for the rest of her life. She had invited it in once, and now it had soaked into her veins, her bones. And now she couldn't escape it, and still, still, a part of her was asking: would it really be so bad if she had to fight for the rest of her life?

She knew where that impulse came from; the voice in her head, the soft one that whispered. The voice she wished she could silence. The voice she hated.

But she could never be rid of it. She'd signed up for it.

Boots clattered against the floor, far too many to be her friends. Ren stopped, froze with muscles tensing before she ducked into the nearest alcove, the lee of a door, as the sound of unfamiliar footsteps drew closer. She was conflicted about it, but in the moment, with invaders on her doorstep, she was spoiling for a fight. To feel flesh give way beneath her fingers, just one last time...

Heh. Ren Syfte the Blood Knight.

She watched them, as they passed by. Around ten people, all human, in full combat dress with rifles. It had been a while since Ren had been anywhere near soldiers, but she still recognized them for what they were right away; it was in the way they walked, the solid, rock steady look in their eyes, in the way they held their weapons. Yes, these guys were professionals, and they were here looking for trouble.

The Half's features twisted with rage. It was a struggle not to just go out there and win, right now.

{Is it time to play now, Ren?}

She sighed, grudgingly.

'Yeah. I think it must be, Shichi.'

********************

'Why the fuck is he here? How did he even find us?'

'I don't know!' Sander didn't bother to shrug, didn't even turn around. Kept walking inevitably forward, hand clasping Mara's tightly. 'Is he hunting you? What happened the last time you saw him?'

'You were there!' Mara shot back, knuckles white as she squeezed Sander's hand back. One look at her was enough to confirm that she was genuinely terrified, but now wasn't the time. Any other day, Sander would have bundled her up in his arms but right now, right now? Now there were people, uncounted numbers of hostile people, scuttling through his home, where his family lived, under the command of a fucking psychopath.

And they would pay. Oh yes.

But for now they needed to keep moving. Find the rest of the group, find Kanaria, figure out why Jerry hadn't picked this up before now. Arm the crew, regroup and fight back. This place was still theirs, the security systems were still under Jerry's control, they just... Weren't picking up the intruders, for whatever reason. A hundred distinct, possible reasons bloomed in Sander's mind; the most likely one was one simple word: Marduk. 

... Possibly followed by a long series of expletives.

He had furnished his home with weapon's lockers because this work was dangerous. Because he wanted his crew to be safe. Because he was Sander Hackett and people would never stop hunting him, even when they thought he was dead. For some, the people he had wronged, nothing but a corpse would satisfy. 

But this wasn't... Couldn't be his fault. Could it?

And of course, he had to have been a long damn way from the nearest weapon locker when this had started. Meaning he had to run through corridors he had designed to be hard to navigate, at least for people unfamiliar to them. He wondered briefly how well they were working, before remembering; Marduk had been all up in his systems for an undetermined length of time. Who knows what kind of information the sneaky little codeling had uncovered? What kind of map these people had?




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 12



Shit.

He picked up his pace, shoes clicking as lightly as he could make them across the floor. Sander had to admit, even in the privacy of his own head, that Mara wasn't the only frightened person here. His own heart was pounding, it was a conscious effort to keep his hands from shaking. Questions pounded through his head.

Had he changed? Did it matter? Would it be worse if he had changed, or if he had stayed the same? How could they possibly handle him a second time? Now that he was on top of his game, now that he had the upper hand, he might as well be unstoppable. There might not be a way to wrest control of the situation back from him. It might just be that this is the place where he really would-

'Aw, fuck!' Sander shouted as a group of five soldiers rounded the corner ahead of them. There was a moment belonging to a highly specific subset of moments that Sander was all too familiar with. It was a moment of thin, horrified silence, like blood dripping on glass. It was the moment the invaders raised their rifles, and once again Sander's life was in the hands of someone who really didn't want him alive. It was the moment he faced down prospective death again, and it turned his guts to water.

In a subsequent moment he would later be very, very proud of, he stepped between Mara and the rifle-wielding men, almost automatically. And he was glaring. 

'Hackett!' Roared one of the men, voice laden with hate as he stared down the barrel of a gun at him.

'He really was alive!' Quavered another, gun swaying dangerously in his hands.

A third piped up, 'Boss doesn't want him dead. He wants to see him first.'

'Fuck the boss!' Snarled the first, trigger finger frighteningly tight. 'We've got him! He's right here in front of us! Let's take him out!'

'And the girl?' The third cut into this torrent of invective, apparently contriving to be the voice of reason. 

'We know what happens with the girls,' Said the first. 'The ones with the collars stay alive, the non-humans and the Half are shoot on sight, the human girl working for Hackett gets to live if she doesn't resist, and she,' He waved his gun at Mara. 'Gets taken to the boss.'

'Oh god...' Mara quavered, clinging on to Sander so tightly.

'Fuck it!' Sander snarled. 'Jerry!'

'Hey!' The first man yelled, hefting his rifle to his shoulder and aiming down the sights. But Jericho's voice was already floating on the air.

'Sander...' He said, virtual voice tinged with concern. 'I can hear you, but I cannot see you. My sensors are... damaged. There are intruders, more people here than there should be, and I can only assume a hostile intent. They used the time before Kanaria could repair my internal sensors to hit my hardware, damage my targeting and firing systems. A pinpoint assault.'

'Marduk works wonders,' The first man grinned, every second seeming to bring him closer and closer to pulling that trigger. Sander's eyes were locked to him. 'Although I assume you've already killed him, the boss wanted to play with you. Stop your defenses firing, but don't target them to you. He wants to see you people running. But not me.'

The next moment was a complex one, as several simultaneous actions happened at once. The world bloomed in wonderful, impossibly coincidental life. For one single, shining second, Sander experienced his own personal eleventh hour, as once again the universe contrived to save his life.

In the beginning of it, the first soldier fired his gun, aiming for a lethal shot at Sander. One bullet, from the weapon of a trained soldier, travelling right at Sander's head. All that rage and hate, a trigger pulled inside his head long before he pulled his. 

For a further moment, Sander believed that he was truly going to die. Everything in him shuddered around his true belief that he had only a second to live. Thoughts flooded his mind; losing Mara, losing his battle with the Doctor, perhaps today, on the anniversary of her death, getting to see Elsa again. He wondered what would happen to Amy, Christina and his Eternity Engine.

And then the wall exploded.

Debris rained inwards, with the sound of a scream, a battle cry. Three battle cries. Something blurred as it dashed into the room, resolving into a human figure as it stood tall in front of Sander, one arm already up and swinging a buzzing, long bladed sword in a practiced, curved arc. It came down, and with the sound of screeching metal it...

Cut. The. Bullet.

There was a resounding metal clang, and two half-bullets flew off in opposite directions. The whole exchange only took a moment, a mere second for Sander's eleventh hour to come and go. But sometimes a second is enough.

'Em!' The figure shouted, girlish voice taking on a metallic edge through the smooth, transparent contour of her helmet's faceplate. She pointed, hand gloved in a large metal gauntlet cast in the same black as the rest of her strange, unfamiliar bodysuit. Two other figures, clad in similar attire, leaped through the newly made impromptu door.

'Got it!' The figure in the blue tinted suit gave an emphatic thumbs up before pulling two guns of her own- sleek, shining black things- and fired on the intruders. They scattered, returning fire with a series of angered shouts. Em chuckled and danced, flowing around the shots directed at her seemingly with ease.

'Alpha! Cover Hackett!' The first helmed figure shouted to a hulking, ebony robot that stood in the hole it had made seconds before.

'Acknowledged,' It said, in a thrumming, deeply artificial voice. It broke into a run, dense metal feet clanging on the ground as it took its place in front of Sander, hunkering down so that the bulk of its body stood between him and the fight currently being waged. Stray rounds clanked harmlessly against its armored carapace.

'Nat! Help me take these fuckers out!' The lead figure screamed as she held her sword- her sonic sword- aloft and dove forward into the heat of the battle. The last remaining girl, clad in a green tinted suit and holding a single, frighteningly large, scoped rifle, flew into the fray herself. 'Kill 'em all!'

The roar of pure, burning fury the lead girl burst out with made Sander take a step back; he and Mara watched as best they could from behind the great black bulk of the robot, eyes wide and mouths hanging open. The three strangers displayed remarkable teamwork while fighting together; Em and Nat kept the soldiers at bay with a curtain of bullets, expertly placed, as the leader spun between them, high-tech sword curving in graceful arcs that, more often than not, ended up cutting through some very important places. And it seemed very painful.

Still, it only took a few moments, which spoke volumes about the relative quality of both groups of combatants. When it was over, blood flecked the walls and dissolved off of the still buzzing blade of the leader's molecular-cutting sonic sword. She wiped a tiny droplet from her visor, hard eyes visible through the transparent polymer shell. She thumbed a trigger at the hilt, and the blade faded away; the handle was clipped to her waist, and she retracted her helmet. 

Again Sander blinked as long reddish-blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, suddenly free of the helmet. Blue eyes swept him up and down, mouth set in a hard line, youthful features filled with resolve. Her pale skin provided a striking counterpoint to the dark metal suit she wore; she couldn't have been more than seventeen, and to fight like that...

Two other helmets retracted back into the collars of the other suits, revealing the faces of the remaining strangers. Nat, in the green suit, was a redhead with a bright, bouncy expression and lively eyes. She was practically luminous, radiating energy and a troubling amount of joy given she'd just been shooting at strangers. Her gaze switched from Sander to Mara and back again, shuddering with intense interest.

From her blue suit, brunette Em gave Sander no more than a cursory glance, but it was easy to see that this was intentional. That she was very pointedly not looking at him. She toyed with the ends of her shoulder-length hair instead, taking in the rest of the corridor as though searching for additional threats. 

'Mister Hackett,' The leader said crisply, back straight as she rounded the bulk of the robot to stand in front of him. 'So nice to finally meet you.'

'Who... the hell are you people?' Of the many questions swarming through his bewildered brain, this seemed to be the one that would fastest cut through to the heart of the matter.

'We're friends, I assure you,' She answered quickly, giving him a placating gesture. His frown deepened.

'Not that I'm ungrateful, you did just save my life, but why the hell should I trust you? Because you also just broke my wall and killed five dudes.'

'Her name was Elsa. You loved her very much.'

He gasped, more a strangled intake of air than a genuine sound of surprise. He didn't speak, couldn't find the words. 

'There. There's only two kinds of people who would know that, and since I'm too young to have been on Vesperia at the right time, I have to have learned that from someone you trust, right?' The blonde stranger smiled. 'You can call me... Nothing at all, Mister Hackett. My friend in the blue is Em, the redhead is Nat, and our robot assistant here, who provided you with such nice cover a little while ago, is called Alpha. We're here to protect you.'

'Protect me?' Sander said, voice filled with head-tilting levels of incredulity. 'That's a lie I've never heard before, I'll give you that.'

'It's not a lie, P-' Nat began, stopping as her leader's head snapped around, shooting her a poisonous glare.

'Nat!' She shouted, as Em shoved the redhead forcefully. 'Remember the fucking timelines! He's Mister Hackett, not... Not that other thing. Not even close. Not yet.'

Nat's eyes went wide at the vehemence of the nameless girl, the way her hands clenched into tight, shaking fists. She seemed to shrink inwards; it really hadn't been very long before her first mistake, 'I'm sorry, Se-'

'And before you even say it, remember that he can't know my name, either. D was very emphatic about that,' The girl in black snapped, glaring at Nat.

'Timelines?' Mara spoke for the first time. 'Am I being told you girls are fucking time travelers?'

'Time Agency. Special mission,' The teen answered. 'That's all I can tell you, though.'

'The Time Agency? Weren't those guys shut down?'

'Brought back, just for this. It's complicated.'

'For us? What the fuck?' Sander took a step forward, gesturing up and down Sera's matte black suit. 'And what manner of deal is this with the power armor?'

'Power armor? What is this, a bad sci fi show? You and I both know that powered exoskeletons are only useful for breaking bones,' The strange teenager deadpanned. 'These are Chronosuits. Experimental time machine tech. More efficient than a vortex manipulator, and all our required destinations are pre-programmed in, so it's all nice and streamlined. And besides, it's dead stylish, yeah?' She grinned, seeming to relax for the first time since her sudden appearance. Sander had to admit, this tiny gesture of humanity did put him at ease.

'So... What? You're here to help us through this whole thing? What happens now?' Mara asked, placing her hand firmly into Sander's.

'Well, I'd tell you to run, but I already know you won't. You've got that machine at the center of the planet... Wonderful piece of technology, and you waste it,' The girl identified as Em spoke up with a sneer. 'Look, a lot of people who normally wouldn't have teamed up specifically to send three elite agents and a robot back in time to save your criminal ass, and more than once, too. The worst part is, you won't even grasp the full extent of the effort that's gone into keeping you alive until later, so proper gratitude is a no go.'

'So instead of saving the Sander Hackett, we get shunted across time and space to save the life of a kidnapper, among other things,' Nat said miserably.

'Captain, we've reached the end of the script. Any more talking and we're off the map, risking major divergences. We need to move on,' Em told the girl in black, who was evidently properly their leader. 'Alpha, get ready for temporal shift.'

'Acknowledged,' The large robot stood, before moving to stand between Nat and Em, heavy feet clanking across the floor. 

'Alright, we out,' The Captain nodded. 'Listen, Mister Hackett, you need to keep moving. Go and find your crew. It's going to be hard, but you'll live,' She turned to walk away, but stopped, shifting uncomfortably. 'And... Keep Amy Pond safe, okay? Because she really doesn't deserve this.'

'What?' Sander tilted his head further. 'You think I'd let her get hurt?'

The teenager closed her eyes, exhaling explosively, 'We didn't have any choice in coming here. This is an ontological paradox that's been observed, so we have a script we have to follow here. Little blue books, just like Doctor Song. I just... I need some proof that you're worth fighting for. A gesture to show me that you're the same wonderful, kind Sander Hackett that exists in the future. That all this effort isn't just to save the asshole your recent history paints you to be. You and your crew. So do me a favor and you keep Amy Pond safe, Alexander Evan Hackett. You just keep her safe.'

'Aw, full name?' Sander's mind wandered for a second. 'And seriously? Amy's my responsibility. So long as I'm alive, she'll be safe.'

'How noble,' Em deadpanned.

'It's what she asked him to do, Em,' Nat replied.

'Good,' The Captain nodded. 'We're leaving. Ready, everyone?'

A chorus of affirmatives led the girl to stand with her group, taking their hands in hers, gauntlet on gauntlet as they stood in a chain. Oddly, each girl, in the moments before their helmets clicked out of the collar of their suits to enclose them, looked as though they desperately wanted to say something more, and were holding it in through sheer force of will. In the last moment that they were visible to him, all three girls smiled at Sander and Mara. 

'We'll see you again in a few hours,' Nat said, faceplate giving her voice a hollow, metallic edge. 'But you two need to take the long path, 'kay?' 

'Who are you girls?' Mara asked softly.

Em smiled helplessly through her visor, eyes sparkling in an oddly happy way, 'Spoilers.' She lilted. A series of colored nodes lit up along the length of all four of the strangers, light building and building with a sound eerily similar to that of the TARDIS, in a way that made Sander shudder reflexively.

And then, they were gone, faded away, as insubstantial as air. Off to... Somewhere else. Silence. Sander blinked.

'... The fuck?' 

'Your middle name is Evan?' Mara said slowly.

'... Yeah.'

'That's no good. I don't like it.'

'I think...' Sander worked his jaw thoughtfully for a moment. 'I think that we have a job to do, now.'

'Yeah,' Mara nodded. 'I need to come up with a new middle name for you...'

********************

Kanaria squeaked in surprise as a hand disrupted her forward momentum, tugging her out from the access corridor and into an adjoining room. Acting on instinct, she fought against it, struggled, until a loud "Shh!" silenced her.

'Hey, come on, it's just me,' Tsugi laid his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. 'There are guys out there. Guys with guns, so I doubt they're fucking space Mormons, or whatever. Do you know what's going on?'

'Um, s-sort of...' Kanaria said unsteadily. 'It's... I think it's got something to do with Sander. He seemed really freaked out. He ran to find Mara.'

'Yeah, figures it'd be Sander...' Tsugi looked away, silently adding. 'Just so long as these guys aren't here for Ren...'

'We need to find somewhere safe to go,' Kanaria's hand was squeezing Tsugi's so tightly, the warmth of her skin oddly pleasant, even in this suddenly dangerous circumstances. And he knew she was clinging to him in fear, but still... Nice. 'Or to one of the weapon's lockers. If we're armed... If we're armed, we stand a chance. But we should find Ren. Or Dulsie. Or Ly. Or-'

'Hey, hey,' Tsugi soothed. 'Slow down. You need to be calm, I can't be dragging around a panicking person, okay? Listen, we need to find the rest of the guys, that's true. Ren first, she can help us. Let's go to her room, okay?'

'O-okay,' Kanaria nodded, all wide eyed and vulnerable. Tsugi experienced a strong urge to give her a hug, but quashed it. This wasn't the time. Regrettably.

'Come on,' He said, giving her hand an awkward, reassuring squeeze. 'You stick close to me, okay?'

*******************

'We've found the Half, sir. In her room, appropriately enough.'

'Lock her in. Deadlock seal the door. She's a bit of a threat, so we'll deal with her later, yes? Have you found Hackett yet?' Still that dead eyed look, as all around him his soldiers went to work. He himself lounged against a wall, remarkably languid, given the importance of this mission. If he failed here, if Sander Hackett's head couldn't be delivered to these men, they would turn on him without a doubt. And they had guns.

'No, sir. He's hiding from us, but that's hardly surprising. If we could access his A.I, we could-'

'No. That's not how we're playing this game. I want to see him run, Huxley. Why would you take that from me?' That little smile that always sent a shudder down Huxley's back. This was his employer.

'Yes, sir. The Dullahan is giving us some trouble. Reports indicate a total loss of the first group to find her.' 

'Interesting species, the Dullahan. Cloaked in legend. People say they're immortal. I would love to test that theory,' His employer's smile deepened, cold eyes staring out as he idly toyed with his favorite knife. In all his time around this man, Huxley had never seen him without that knife. It was like a trusted friend to him. Huxley couldn't decide exactly how unsettling that actually was. 'See if you can lead her my way.'

'... Yes, sir. And the others? The technician and the programmer? The Trine-form?'

'If they resist, kill them. If they don't... Maybe I will. Who knows?'

Huxley bit down on a scathing reply as he turned to go do something far less frightening. It was good that he was here, doing this- assuming he even survived- But that man...

He couldn't help the thought, as it slid into his brain, fully formed and, he realized, utterly, terrifyingly true. It made him dizzy to think it, like sudden vertigo:

'Who knows? Certainly not you, you psychopath...'

******************

All in all, Tsugi considered, things weren't that bad. 

Well, yes, he was being hunted, and yes he could hear footsteps getting steadily closer, resounding in an urgent and decidedly hostile manner. But he'd always at least been aware of the bright side in his head, despite his outer coating of cynicism. And currently, his bright side was Kanaria. 

If he looked back, he could see her running. At all times he was aware of her hand in his, fingers wrapped tight around his own; the weight of it was incredible. Right now, she was his responsibility; keeping her safe was his only job. Not that he wouldn't have done this anyway, but he really didn't want to have to face Mara and Ren if their precious little sister got hurt under his care. 

And so they ran, down the corridors of their home, avoiding hostile presences as they found them. Tsugi liked to think he wasn't easily spooked, but even he had to admit that this shit was getting to him; this was his home, and suddenly finding it filled with danger was profoundly shocking. He had walked these halls for a solid three years, but now every shadow seemed to conceal an enemy, every corner was laden with the sheer, disorienting malice of these intruders. It was the same as walking across an alien landscape. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 12



Only this was their home, damn it!

It might have even been better to know who these fuckers who had invaded this place were. But there were no clues there, nothing to indicate an affiliation or even a reason for being here. They were wearing standard battle wear, bulletproof, black and menacing, but there were no insignia or imagery to indicate national affiliation. Their weapons were older models; rifles and pistols from years past, from wars long since concluded. These people, these interlopers with deadly intent, were entirely mysterious. Yet this wasn't a random attack; it only felt that way, at times.

Suddenly, they were out in the main hall; Ren's room lay at the top of a set of stairs at the other end of the room, and... They were not alone.

This room was filled with soldiers; Tsugi might have noticed, had his mind not been clouded with fear and other thoughts. There was a moment of absolute, all consuming oh fuck as he and Kanaria skidded to a stop, both sets of eyes wide. Without really knowing why, as the entire group of intruders- too many to count in the time available- turned to face them, he looked up. He felt like laughing; they were both directly underneath Ren's door. If he craned his neck, he could see the heavy steel glinting in the sunlight. Sometimes, fate really could contrive to be totally fucking ridiculous.

'Freeze!' Again, Tsugi felt the desire to laugh; with so many guns pointed in his direction, what else was he going to do? Only Kanaria's little squeak of fear dampened that desire; an odd surge of protectiveness filled him. Though aware it was a useless gesture, he stepped in front of her, pressing her back against the wall. Given his stature, and the fact that there was only one of him, he couldn't exactly stare down the assembled intruders easily, but he gave it a damn good shot. At this juncture, he was well beyond giving a fuck.

'Command, we've located the programmer and the technician,' Came a voice from the back, seemingly into a headset. 'Looks like they were making a run at the Half. Good thing you had us wait here. Nice thinking.'

'Too bad we locked her in!' One of the soldiers closer to the pair spoke up, rifle at his shoulder. 'Besides... We were told to keep you alive, but...'

'Yeah, I'm not totally in on that either,' Came another voice. 'I mean, we could always say they resisted. Imagine the look on Hackett's face.'

'Alright. Let's do that,' A grin from the first man, his eye lining up with the sight on his rifle. 'I'm a big fan of that.'

'Hey, fuck you!' Tsugi growled, puffing himself up as much as he could to shield Kanaria. It wouldn't mean anything, he knew; the moment they opened fire the two of them would be torn apart whether he was in front of her or not. Even so, it felt... Right, somehow. Him, protecting her. Most natural thing in the universe. 

Still, staring down the barrels of too many damn guns, that wasn't too much comfort. He could feel them winding up inside, about to pull the trigger. His death was coming in the form of a hail of burning metal shards, and fuck was that ever dissatisfying.

The whole thing came to an abrupt stop with the first, sonorous metal clang from above. People started looking around by the second. At the third, everyone was well and truly freaked out. It took until the fourth blow for the echoes to stop messing with their ability to mark position, and they located the sound as coming from the door above.

Still, it was better than getting shot.

One of the soldiers laughed, 'Hey, the Half's trying to get out!'

'She won't, though. That door is deadlock sealed. Ain't gonna open until we say,' Said another.

Another reverberating metal clang, this one resulting in a large dent blooming from the center of the door. Tsugi grinned nastily, as some of the soldiers began looking a little less confident in their comrade's assessment of the situation. One of them piped up, 'Uh, is that so?'

'Yeah. Deadlock seal, leaves no room for error. Nothing is getting through that door. And even if she does get out, look at all of us. Look at the weapons we have. We're in the perfect position for an ambush.'

Tsugi nodded, 'Yeah. But is it really an ambush if the ambushee is beating through metal plating to get to you?'

The sounds were coming in quick succession now, boom after boom shuddering through the door, sending the sound of violence cascading down onto the assembled crowd. Even Kanaria's expression had taken on a curious edge as, slowly, the door buckled under the thudding blows from its other side. 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Little by little. Something wicked this way comes...

From the other side of the door came a howl of pure fury, the inferno in sonic form. One crash, and the sound of tortured metal shrieking hot on its heels. The door rocketed off its frame, careening through the air and landing chaotically, taking out a number of soldiers under its bulk. The sounds of pain, the grinding of metal... And the sound of heavy footsteps.

'Okay!' The voice vibrated darkly, so strong and confident it seemed to fill the entire room, like a hammer blow. Tsugi looked up to see it step out onto the floor above him.

Mismatched eyes, incandescent with rage, burning away in the middle of an expression that promised a long and painful death to anyone who crossed her. She was wearing a black bodysuit, like a layer of paint on her skin. Like she had been dipped naked into a vat of tar. It caught the light in odd ways; she was breathtakingly beautiful, in her fury.

She stepped out into the light, rolling her shoulders. Her entire body swayed slightly as she looked out over the gobsmacked crowd, cracking her knuckles in such a cavalier manner; as though she hadn't just broken through an armor plated door with them.

She smiled a predator's smile. She was complete. When she opened her mouth to speak, the entire room hung on her every word. Her eyes burned, so deeply, blood red and sapphire blue, alien and human. Familiar and terrifyingly unfamiliar, wrapped up in the one body.

'Alright, hi. My name is Ren Andrei Syfte, and I'm going to fucking murder each and every one of you!'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 13



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello, everyone! Sorry for the really long delay, but this chapter is extra long to make up for it. I'm trying something a little different from the usual, but we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming by next chapter, which should be out with the usual delay, rather than this ridiculous long one again. Thanks go to Isabel for her creative input, to Allyourbase for editing and creative advice, and to Logicaldreamer, my slave, for helping me through this difficult chapter. 

Enjoy, folks!

*******************

Finally! Yes!

Ren padded across the floor, the soft voice cheering in her mind, each word twanging down her spine. She reached the waist-high steel safety railing and hopped over it with ease, dropping several feet to the ground floor, landing without a sound. Her teeth ground together as she attempted to ignore the voice as it wrapped itself around her awareness, whooping like a child with a new toy. She couldn't escape it under normal circumstances, but now? Now she was wearing it; she could feel every tiny vibration and pulse of the nanometer thick, jet black skinsuit that wrapped around her. 

The voice that pounded in time with her heartbeat. That made her come alive in situations just like this one. When she worked with the voice, she soared...

But she hated it.

She tapped her jaw with one black-gloved hand as she stepped quickly in front of Tsugi and her sister, regarding the soldiers who dared to threaten them with outright contempt and burning, abiding, blazing fury. They didn't quite step back, but these soldiers were at least a little savvy; when a lone woman wearing something that shouldn't technically afford her any protection stood with as much confidence as Ren currently was, something had to be up. 

So many of them! Fun! Fun!

Time to get to work...

*************************

Twelve years prior

Location: Terran Colony World 159, Uo

Designation: Japanese cultural enclave- Contained Hot Zone: Do not approach without prior authorization from onsite government

When humanity had spread to the stars, as it was always destined to do, the Enclave program was initiated. Fearing the eventual erasure of original Earth culture in the face of myriad new worlds, individual national governments could establish their own colony worlds with the aim of preserving the traditions and history of their constituents. In short, each country could, with a bit of paperwork, become an entire planet.

Uo, the Japanese enclave world, was the third such designated colony, after the North Korean Kinsang colony, and North America's Columbia. Kinsang went about as well as one could expect, going completely dark shortly after initial colonization, aside from a series of nuclear missile batteries that shot down any craft that entered orbit. Columbia thrived, assuming you didn't pay attention to the economies of other Terran worlds. And Uo?

Uo fought itself.

Japan's royal line had dipped in and out of political relevancy for centuries, but they had surged back into power following the establishment of the Uo colony. The emperor wasn't precisely the centre of power in the Uo government, but his line wielded a disproportionately large portion of the voting power. The lineage continued, with new rulers inheriting power down the line; as is usual in politics, the public felt some kind of way about that. Debate happened, which naturally evolved into argument, which segued into the obvious conclusion: fighting. 

Well, civil war, if you wanted to get technical about it. Not that the official channels would ever admit that.

Government forces routinely clashed with "revolutionary elements" in secret, in the dark. Fighting was restricted to the uninhabited areas of the planet; both sides understood that unrestrained guerilla warfare in the streets would shatter the fledgling, delicate colony system. It was really the only thing they agreed on. 

Plenty of planets devolved into civil war, far out from intervention from centralized government. The development of faster-than-light travel had alleviated this somewhat, but it was still sufficiently commonplace that it did not draw any specific attention from the interplanetary community. But there were secrets, hidden beneath the surface. Like the meteor; the falling star that would shape the history of the enclave.

That was when things got... A little crazy.

***********************

'How are you feeling?'

Her vision blurred, the surgeon dipping in and out of sight as it pulsed in time with her heartbeat. When she could see him, she wondered why she had ever let him put her under; he looked more like a mob doctor than a government sanctioned professional. He wore the white coat- he had that down- but the three day old stubble and deeply concerning passive expression gave this whole setup the aura of a back alley clinic. 

She analyzed his question: how was she feeling? Well, dizzy, that was one thing. Groggy was another. Her head felt like it was packed with cotton, but she knew the effects of painkillers when she experienced them. Nothing very surprising about all that. But her body felt heavy, deep down; like it had become denser while she had been out. And above all, she was deeply, awfully...

'Cold,' She answered, a little snippily. 'I feel cold.'

'That's natural,' The surgeon answered awfully quickly, waving a hand vaguely. 'Where is this sensation most intense?'

She didn't answer; her head was still not working properly, the words weren't coming as they should. Instead, she glanced down at her right arm, where the bones radiated a deep chill out into her flesh. It was really quite distressing.

'Your arm? That must be where the biomass has situated itself,' He moved around the operating table she laid on, tapping at her arm with impersonal fingers. 'Fascinating. In Subject One, the central mass settled itself in his throat, giving him some truly interesting vocal abilities. Subject Two had it in her lungs. Before she became inoperable she was exhaling some fun little chemicals. Subject Three through Five had it settle, rather unsuccessfully, in the brain. You're only the second person to have it end up in a limb, and with your... unique base biology, we're hoping you'll present a greater success than we've yet experienced.'

'Yes, whatever,' Her entire body was shivering, she didn't really feel like talking shop with the man who had sewn her up mere minutes ago. She just wanted to... to warm up and sleep. Of course, what she wanted didn't really mean much anymore, and that was fine, assuming that...

Assuming that everything worked out. Because she knew what the term "inoperable," really meant.

Also, this guy didn't want to say Half? What the fuck?

H-hello?

The voice was timid and tiny, but it had the effect of a bucket of icy water dumped directly into her throbbing head. She gasped sharply, sitting bolt upright with a sickening lurch as the entire world spun around her dizzy frame. They had warned her about the voice, that the thing they had implanted in her was sentient, and communication between it and its host had not been successful in any of the other subjects. She could see the surgeon stiffen at her sudden movement, she knew that now was the time to try it...

'It's talking. Do I, like, close my eyes, or what?' She asked unsteadily.

'It's telepathic. Just... think at it, I suppose,' The surgeon actually shrugged as he said that, as though speculation wasn't worth the effort. Not for the first time, she wished he would at least maintain the illusion of professionalism. That would've been nice.

'Um, hi?' She thought, wondering what, exactly, she was supposed to be doing. Actually doing, not just what the guy in the lab coat assumed she should do.

Yes, hello!

Again an inarticulate cry of surprise as the creature that had been injected into her veins spoke up. She couldn't really tell, but it seemed happy to have someone to talk to. She looked up to the surgeon for direction, knowing even as she did so that the chances of him actually providing some were slim to nil. Leaving aside that this experiment was completely unique, historically this man had been... less that satisfying, professionally speaking.

But then, this was all a bit cloak and dagger, wasn't it? Hiding out at the edge of the combat zones, as deep in the jungle as one could be without getting shot at. She hadn't seen sunlight in a few days now, as a procession of doctors and scientists had prepared her for what they were calling implantation. Intellectually she had known what to expect, but now that it was actually happening, the process was far more jarring that she had envisioned. 

'Want to give it a try?'

She started at the sudden question, 'What?'

'Do you want to try activating it?'

She really did, 'How?'

'It might be a living being, but we can program it,' The surgeon shrugged. 'Just command it to synchronize, it'll do it.'

'Shouldn't there be, like, containment procedures, here?' She asked hesitantly. 'Or... safety provisions?'

'Oh, there are,' The surgeon said. 'But it's not like we're going to tell you about them. I mean, you are the thing we'd be containing, in that eventuality.'

'Yeah, okay. Whatever,' She shifted uncomfortably, before closing her eyes again. She... reached out to the other consciousness in her head, or at least she tried; it was hard to accurately gauge how well these abstract actions worked. The reply came quickly, and in a more confident voice than her previous interactions with this thing.

Synchronization rate at 46%. Executing.

There was myriad metallic whirring and clicking noises, and a series of actions that caused the surgeon's eyes to widen in genuine shock. He took a step back as Subject Seven's biomechanical implant activated, wrapping her in... really interesting things.

'Okay, yeah,' The surgeon said tremulously as she stood with a mechanical whirring. 'You're operational. I'm going to go and see someone about training you up. Y'know, get you a codename...'

'Hey, I don't need a codename,' She said, rising heavily to her feet, the convex faceplate of her new helmet sliding up and retracting into the rest of the structure, revealing a huge, ecstatic grin. 'Call me Ren.'

******************

'Hey, Captain! Wait up!'

Jae Hoshikuji frowned at the sound, eyes narrowing as he slowed his pace to allow Saki to catch up. Before being transferred to active duty in Uo's capital, Shikishima, he had never met a soldier like Saki. Sure, there were gossips everywhere, whether one was civilian or military, but Saki projected information like it was a physical force. To talk to her was to become entangled, trapped in a vortex of the minutia of other people's lives. She was a good soldier, in the field; did her job well- and silently- but the moment she went off duty... Bam. People avoided her.

Of course, it wasn't in his best interest to avoid her. Sometimes, being in command of a major military unit meant dealing with folks in times you'd rather be alone, and this was definitely one of those for him. On the other hand, the job often set him apart from the rest of his squad- the people he saw every day- just out of sheer rank; nobody wants to be too friendly with the guy who could potentially fire them if they slipped up and said the wrong thing. Saki, for whatever reason, was always willing to talk to him. And talk to him. And talk... But at least she was there, and that still took him by surprise, sometimes. 

'Hi, Saki. What's new today?' He tried to keep the flatness out of his voice, but he couldn't help adding a little barb. That was his nature; underneath his well-kept soldier's physique beat the heart of a true cynic. He had the face for it too; round, heavy features that naturally set themselves into an expression that had been described to him as unimpressed, and cool, intelligent eyes that so often hid themselves behind his mop of dark hair. His whole being didn't so much radiate boredom as it did expectancy, like he was waiting for everyone else to do something interesting. It was the kind of thing that put others on edge.

Then again, one didn't get to be the Captain by making people comfortable in themselves...

'You mean you don't know?' She stared at him, eyes wide. 'Walk and talk, Captain! I'll tell you on the way!'

Okay, this was genuinely new. Usually Saki would all but pin her unfortunate conversation partner to whatever he or she happened to be nearest to, but now she forged ahead, causing Jae to trot after her out of sheer curiosity. 

'What's going on, Saki?' He said eventually, following her through the angular, gunmetal corridors of Shikishima Installation 01. Unlike the mostly government buildings that surrounded it, Installation 01 was built from prefabricated construction pieces, leading to a largely identical layout that one needed to be truly familiar with before they could navigate it effectively. Jae had lived here long enough, and he figured they were headed to the recreational areas...

'New recruit, sir! Kasuga, Hirasawa and Itazu are facing off against her on the training floor,' Saki's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. She was in her element now, 'I figured you were going to watch.'

'Three against one? Seems a little dangerous, doesn't it?' Jae cocked an eyebrow. A normal one on one match would rarely result in anything worse than a few bruises for the loser, but a match with that many participants? Especially if they were ganging up on a new recruit? Overconfidence could be trained out of a person, but Hirasawa was the kind of man who beat enemy soldiers to death with his bare hands, just because he had the time to see it out properly. This could end really badly.

'Yeah!' Saki nodded furiously. 'That's why we're going to watch!'

Jae had to admit, Saki made a compelling point. Hirasawa was... distressingly violent on occasion- then again, that's what he had been recruited for- but he wasn't stupid. He wouldn't just attack a new recruit with two other trained soldiers; assuming he could even get Kasuga and Itazu to go along with it, he knew better. It was the reason he barely used the training floor. 

So, only one possibility remained: whoever this newbie was, she was either insanely confident, or just insane. And unless he stepped in, she would be hurt.

... Was that laughter, he was hearing?

The training floor was a large, open plan room, cast all in steely grey metal with a large skylight above, letting in the light of Uo's large, pearlescent white moon. The majority of the room was an etched square, slightly raised off of ground level, made of durable, cushioned matting. It was in this square that the action happened; spectators could line the sides of the ring or, in the case of live-fire exercises, from a windowed observation booth set high on the adjacent wall. Jae and Saki entered on the ground floor, surrounded by the echoes of raucous, joyful laughter. 

Originally, Jae had entered with the intention of yelling at someone. He had become good at yelling at people, since being placed in command of a mid-sized military unit. His unit comprised a number of high-value individual agents and experimental technologies that his superiors demanded work at peak efficiency; yelling was a big part of that. It kept his people just fearful enough to bear the prospect of working with each other. 

'Alright, cut this shi- holy fuck!' He flinched, cut off before he could even get started, as Hirasawa hit the wall beside him, at the termination of a wide, spinning airborne arc beginning in the center of the training floor. Specifically, beginning at the precise point where a young woman, voiced raised in hysterical laughter, had kicked him hard enough to send him flying. Right in the chest.

'Well, I really didn't see this outcome, when I heard about this situation,' Saki's head tilted to one side as she and Jae watched the newcomer duck under Itazu's wide, swinging punch, before scything her leg through his own, causing him to fall heavily backwards. 

'Honestly?' Hirasawa grunted breathlessly as he sat crumpled, on his neck, upside down against the wall. 'Neither did I. What is she?'

'Well why did you start the fight in the first place?' Jae frowned, prodding his wayward squad mate with his toe. 'You've never accosted newbies before...'

'I didn't this time,' Hirasawa ponderously righted himself, a bone in his shoulder cracking painfully. 'She did. Practically dragged Kasuga and Itazu in here, I just followed because it looked interesting.'

For a moment, the three of them watched, wide eyed, as the young woman with the dirty blonde hair successfully defended herself against two highly trained field agents with a combined total of two decades of military training between them. Her elbow flew backwards, hammering into Kasuga's neck before darting forward, black gloved hand enclosing Itazu's throat and... flowing in a single, elegant movement so she could throw her opponent, chucking him like a baseball and bowling both him and Kasuga over. 

'How is she doing that?' Saki said in a hushed whisper. 

'Fucked if I know,' Hirasawa growled, getting unsteadily to his feet and striding back into the ring, despite clearly not wanting to. 'But I'd say it has something to do with that black suit she's wearing under her clothes.'

'That might be a contributing factor,' Jae nodded sagely. 'Some new tech that we're not aware of.'

'Uh huh!' Hirasawa said savagely. 'Wanna throw your hat into the ring here, Captain?'

Mere seconds later, Hirasawa was ejected from the ring once more; Jae liked to imagine a vivid footprint staying ingrained on his ribcage immediately following this. Itazu followed soon after, and moments after that, Jae and Saki were treated to the sight of their new recruit holding Kasuga up by the collar with one hand while beating him senseless with the other. 

The brutality of it was bad; the blood and the terrible cracking noises of bones being struck and, eventually, giving way was worse. But by far the worst was the awful, soaring, blissful laughter that bubbled up from the recruit's throat like silver tinkling in the air. The rapturous expression on her face as she turned to Jae, as if to ensure that he was watching, to show off, sent a chill down his spine.

'Newbie!' He bellowed, drawing his combat knife from its sheath. If yelling didn't work- god forbid- he would have to end this situation quickly before Kasuga went blind, at best. When the recruit refused to stop, merely staring right through him while pounding a hole in Kasuga's skull, knuckles coated in blood, Jae twitched, hurling his knife blade first at her head.

'Hey!' For the first time, the recruit spoke, with a voice that twanged with adrenaline. She leaned out casually, allowing the heavy, durable blade to pass between her and the unfortunate target of her current violent impulses. It curved through the air before burying itself into the mat a few feet away. Her burning eyes met Jae's for a moment, practically tearing him apart with the force of her stare, before she discarded Kasuga's now limp form to point at him.

'You,' She snarled, grinning. 'Get in here. We're doing this. Properly,' She moved to retrieve his knife, tossing it back to him as he entered the ring. He caught it easily, switching to a reverse grip and raising his arms into a defensive stance. The two of them circled each other slowly, shuffling feet as their eyes locked.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 13



'What's your name, recruit?' He said in a low voice, face impassive to avoid telegraphing his next move.

'I'll tell you if you beat me, old man.'

'I'm your superior officer,' The knife twitched in his hand.

'Fine,' She sighed. 'I'm Ren, and this really is the best way for me to get to know you, boss man. You're handling that thing pretty well, so I hope I don't stab you too badly. It'd be a pity if our first meeting ended with your blood all over the floor. It'd remind me of too many first dates,' She grinned terribly.

Jae blinked. He was beginning to think he might have acted impulsively here, and dived into an increasingly deadly situation without thinking.

'Hirasawa, take Kasuga to the med bay. Alright new blood, let's see what you can do,' Jae said, expression solid and unmoving as he and Ren circled each other slowly, weapons at the ready.

'You think you can handle me, old man?'

'I'm thirty-one,' Jae snipped. 'Not old.'

'Yeah, well, I'm still younger than you,' Ren had the kind of grin sharks got, the kind that was just a byproduct of an opening maw, generally to bite something. 'Not that you'd ask a lady her age, yes?'

'Something tells me you're no lady,' Jae chuckled. 'That's an interesting stance you've got there. Who trained you?'

'Nobody did,' Ren shrugged.

'Oh, that makes sense,' Jae said, grunting. 'At least, it explains why nobody can predict what the fuck you're going to do next. You fight like a cornered animal, not a soldier. Why did they send you to me?'

'Something about a fresh perspective?' Ren said. 'But I think it's mainly because I can punch through a human sternum with my fist.'

Jae made a pained noise in the back of his throat, sort of a sigh crossed with a nervous laugh.

From the edge of the arena, set back at a safe distance, Saki squinted, 'Are they... talking?'

In the ring, her captain and the new recruit danced around the center, close in to each other. Their knives glittered as they arced through the air, almost blurring with the speed of the blows. Metal clanged against metal, punctuated by the occasional grunt or snarl of exertion as one or the other fighter blocked an incoming blow with a bare hand. The two of them were really going at it, redirecting momentum, attacking and defending with expert precision. But in the moments of stillness, as they circled, it was easy to see that, yes, they were talking to each other. And smiling.

'Man, those two are inhuman,' Itazu shook his head sadly. 'Her more than most...'

'Oh, it's funny because she's a Half!' Saki rolled her eyes. 'Don't be racist, not when she's taking on the captain and winning.'

'Trust me, I know,' He rolled his shoulder with the pronounced click of bone, and a wince. 'That halfbreed bitch hurts.'

Jae threw his weight into a vicious downward slash, growling in irritation as Ren flowed around the flashing silver blade, stabbing up at him with her own. He stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his own feet as the tip of the intimidating knife grazed his throat. Way too close. His palm flew upward, catching her wrist and squeezing, causing her to cry out in pain. He pulled her in close, their faces mere inches apart; he could feel the heat of her breath as she panted with exertion.

'You're fantastic! Are you sure you didn't train?' Jae grinned, heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. He had put up a good fight so far, but even he had to admit that it was entirely possible he would lose, and end up like Kasuga. More times than he cared to think about, Ren's blade had come close to slicing him open, and even her regular punches contained more force than Jae was used to seeing in bullets.

'Are you sure you did?' Ren quipped back, dropping her knife from her captured hand and catching it quickly in the other, a snaking, sinuous movement that took Jae completely by surprise. He dived backwards as the blade was brought up toward his ribs, twisting as he fell and throwing up his own knife hand in a clumsy deflection. Ren's blade hit the handle of his knife, twisting down and laying a deep gash into his wrist. Jae grunted in pain as his blood dripped to the floor.

'Ooh, watch out, Sir! Almost got you there!' Ren laughed savagely, tossing her knife back to her dominant hand, raising a sneaker clad foot and bringing it down hard on Jae. He rolled out of the way, driving his knife into the toe of her shoe, probably missing flesh, but effectively pinning Ren in place, affording him valuable time to scrabble to his feet. Of course, It also left him unarmed...

'Captain!' Hirasawa's voice echoed through the large room as Ren lifted her pinned foot with relative ease, actually raising it over her head so fast that the knife came spinning away, embedding itself in the wall opposite. Holy shit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jae could see Hirasawa, returned with a medical crew for Kasuga, throwing something glinting and sleek to Itazu, before raising another of his own.

'Alright bitch, let's see how good you are now!' Hirasawa yelled, pistol pointed at the new recruit. Jae threw himself forward as he and Itazu opened fire on the young woman.

'Damn it, no!' Jae shouted, knocking Ren to the floor and collapsing on top of her, shrinking inwards as the first rounds collided with the wall behind them. He sought to make their profile small enough to be missed entirely. 'Ceasefire!' 

In the silence that followed, Jae pulled himself up onto his elbows, staring down into the wide, mismatched eyes of the recruit. Something flickered there, beyond the outer surprise at his being on top of her. Something unknowable and ancient, yet young and somehow empty. Devoid of experience in a world too large. 

'Are you okay?' He asked breathlessly, looking her over for wounds. For a moment, Ren stayed silent, staring at him, wide eyed and motionless. She seemed almost to recoil, as though the sudden physical contact was jarring, and she didn't know what to do about it.

She soon figured it out, features twisting with rage, 'Get off me!' She snarled, throwing him away with unnatural strength and jumping to her feet. Her eyes burned as she faced her attackers, staring right down the barrels of their guns, 'Hit me again. Come on, shoot at me again, cowards. I fucking dare you.'

And they fired. For all the good it did them.

'Live rounds, huh? You were really trying to kill me, then,' Ren said in a voice dripping with hate, distorted and made metallic by the featureless, convex helmet that had... Had... Grown out of the black suit under her clothes. In the time it had taken for the bullets to reach her, countless iridescent, sunset orange tendrils had knitted together around her, becoming a sinuous, curving metal hardsuit, a high-tech suit of armor.

'What the hell?' Jae murmured, looking up and down the imposing figure in front of him. Of course, he knew about hardsuits, in theory; like a robot you could wear, protecting you from harm and adding insane strength and tactical awareness to the average soldier. The only problem was, it was impossible; the forces required to make a suit that had sufficient strength to compensate for the enormous weight of all that tech would tear the wearer apart in moments. He had seen the after-action reports on the tests. 

They weren't pretty.

'We were having a good old time beating the hell out of each other, and you assholes decide to raise the stakes like this?' Ren's voice filtered out through the speakers inset into the collar of her suit. The whole rig began to move, armor plates rippling almost like liquid as Ren stepped forward. 'Unluckily for you, I'm playing a whole different game.'

Do I get to kill them, Ren?

She had named the being implanted in her body Shichi, the Japanese word for seven. She had learned quite quickly that, to the Research Division that had conducted the experiments on her, she was Subject Seven, nothing more. God knows they had done enough to her, regardless of how much it had hurt. 

... But damn, did this suit ever feel good...

'Just hurt 'em,' Ren thought to the alien. 'Technically they're on our side.'

They attacked us, Ren!

The suit swung forward, taking Ren with it. The armor flowed, twisting like a living thing; the plates on her forearms roiling as the artificial musculature beneath grew. As it leapt, gauntleted fingers sharpened into claws, glinting in the light. Ren's attackers backed up quickly under the mass of living metal and angered Half bearing down on them. The suit landed heavily between them, the impact great enough to crack the concrete beneath.

Inside the helmet, Ren gritted her teeth, 'No! Damn it, Shichi!'

The Research Division could call this whatever they wanted, use words like "implantation," and "molecular regeneration," but the truth was, nobody had any idea what was really going on, during this process. The truth, was that they had found a piece of living alien metal in a meteor that had crashed just outside the capital, and had spent the past four years splitting it endlessly and allowing it to regenerate, just to experiment on it. Discovering that it was sentient, and could pass that trait onto each individual fragment didn't even slow them down. And when they had found it could attach itself to a host body, with a variety of interesting side effects, well...

Ren's half-human biology had allowed the creature to adapt itself to her with remarkable ease, producing a highly effective soldier, just... Not without side effects. As Ren's arm raised itself, armored plates growing scything, bladed tentacles, that fact became horribly clear. Her teeth almost creaked with the force of her bite, as Ren growled with effort, wrenching her arm back down; her fist slammed into the ground, sending thin cracks and fissures across the hard concrete. A few feet away, Hirasawa's eye twitched. 

The term R & D used was "rampancy." 

Ren just called it going batshit loco.

Inside the armor, her entire body shuddered with the effort of not moving. Shichi wasn't just the suit, it was in her body, inhabiting her flesh; she felt as though her bones were trying to tear through her, like her entire physical form was trying to wrench itself into motion despite her best efforts. 

Her fist slammed into the ground, again and again; a desperate attempt to redirect the sheer violent energy Shichi was attempting to bring to bear on her squad mates, 'No, no, no! Shichi, stop it!' 

She started up an increasingly vehement series of curses, screaming into her faceplate as her skin began to burn, every atom of her body subject to Shichi's clawing, rabid desires. The alien had the mind of a child, and right now every affronted, simply wrathful part of it was focused on sending its host to tear apart the two highly trained soldiers that were slowly backing away. The depression in the floor was quickly deepening under Ren's fist. Outside the suit, aimless, whipping tendrils of gleaming orange metal sprang at random from her back and limbs, slicing at the air in a desperate attempt to reach Hirasawa and Itazu. 

Ren! Ren, please!

Shichi's voice took on a whining, pleading tone as the host began to regain control of herself. The suit froze, went limp for a moment as, inside, Ren growled through the last mental push, getting Shichi back under control. Laboriously, she manipulated the slowly reforming armor, pulling herself to her feet as alarms burst to life, klaxons blaring, filling the room.

'Oh good,' Ren sighed, almost tripping over the feet of her hardsuit as she struggled to keep the damn thing stable. Dimly, she was aware of a warm, organic pressure on one shoulder; looking over, she could see Jae attempting to support her. She would soon regain her full strength, but in the moments immediately following a period of rampancy it was reassuring to have someone at her side. Even if she didn't entirely trust him.

Ren, I'm sorry. I'm still not used to having a body. To... To talking. I didn't mean it, Ren.

'Just shut up, Shichi. Stay quiet,' Ren ground out through clenched teeth, as the tiny voice in her head began to sound ashamed of its actions.

'What the fuck is going on here?' Hirasawa scratched the back of his head. Alarms weren't terribly strange here, being that Installation 01 had many emergency drills, and the more frequent than anyone cared to admit legitimate emergency because... Well, things sometimes exploded. But this specific tone he hadn't heard before, and that unfamiliarity was only compounded by the seven or eight flying drones that swerved around the corridor and into the room, quickly moving to surround Ren and, by extension, Jae.

Hirasawa and Itazu took a few steps back, out of harm's way. Loyalty to one's boss was one thing. Getting killed by robots was another.

'Fuck me,' Ren snarled breathlessly, still only barely in control of her hardsuit. The audio sensors that coated the armor, a million tiny ears built into every atom, caught the faint buzz of a charging particle beam. 'God fucking damn it! You see what you did, Shichi?'

Bolts of orange fire lanced from apertures set low on the drones' angular, metal-plated bodies, lighting the room like a powerful sunset. Ren's gauntleted hand was on Jae's collar immediately. He grunted, a violent, wordless exhalation of surprise as Ren jumped, bearing him aloft by the back of the neck, up and over the superheated air produced by the beams. They scorched black lines in the already punished floor where their targets once were. Moments after the beams shut off, Ren and Jae hit the ground, the latter stumbling slightly, having only just gotten used to being airborne. 

'Shichi, harden the armor, as much as you can without restricting movement. How long do you think you can make us stand up to a particle beam?' Ren whispered to herself as she touched down, watching the drones encircle her again, waiting for an appropriate opening to push Jae out of the way. 

Two seconds. Four, if it's not sustained fire and we get time to cool down. Do I get to kill these ones, Ren?

Shichi had been undeniably eager then, a thrill of adrenaline rushing through her system as her internal hitchhiker bounced up and down on its metaphorical feet. She almost grinned, 'Yeah. Yeah, we do, Shichi, and what the fuck are you doing, Cappy?'

She turned her head, allowing her visor to alight on Jae, back to back with her, glaring out at the drones as they slowly circled overhead, fast enough to make it difficult to keep track of them, as their main weapons recharged. She caught the curved edge of his smile as he looked back.

'Backing you up,' He said. 'What are we dealing with, here?'

'Fucking Blackwatch security drones!' Ren growled. 'They're sent out automatically to take me out if I get... out of control. Your asshole squad-fuckers ticked me off and set them off!'

'Those are Hackett Industries drones, yeah?' Jae had a light chuckle in his voice, though it was anything but mirthful. 'Weak recharge cycle.'

'Why are you still here? These things are after me, if you step away, they won't follow you.'

'Because you're on my squad now, these things aren't,' Jae said simply. 'Our highest task to protect Emperor Sagara, and that means I need something like you alive.'

'Something, huh?' Ren grinned inside her helmet, finding it hard to argue. She clenched one hand before pressing it into Jae's, concentrating hard. Slowly, her palm filled, 'Here, take this.'

Jae's eyes widened, and he lifted his hand, bringing up a slender gun, made of the same orange metal his back was pressed against. He made a little strangled noise in the back of his throat; this technology was too fucking much.

'Okay, fine...' His brows rose helplessly.

'Aim for the firing apertures or the propulsion systems. They're no threat without those,' Ren slammed a metal shod fist into a metal shod palm. 'Let's get to work then, partner.'

Jae didn't have the first clue what Ren was or how she could do what she did, but damn was it effective. She leapt from drone to drone, shrugging off multiple hits with a weapon that would shear a hole in Jae's chest in seconds. Each drone she actually made contact with went down in a hail of twisted and shrieking metal on roughly the same amount of time. It was a little intimidating.

Meanwhile, Jae himself laid in with the worryingly powerful gun his new recruit had... had made for him. The thing had almost no kick, but sliced through metal like nothing else. Disturbingly, it was warm to the touch in a weird, organic way, and soft enough for his fingers to sink into if he gripped too hard. Once, he swore he could feel a heartbeat. 

What the fuck was going on in Shikishima? 

'And that makes eight!' Ren whooped, hefting the wreck of the last Blackwatch drone into the wall hatefully. 'Fuck you, security measures!'

'Seriously. What... The fuck,' Hirasawa twitched in his corner, looking out over the scorched and cracked surfaces of the once pristine training room floor. A rather vicious looking bruise had formed over one eye, and his mind still echoed with the blow that had caused it. He was feeling rather... forgotten.

'Well that was... interesting,' Jae deadpanned. 'Ren, was it? You need to tell me what's going on, right now.'

'Actually, right now, I'm going to get in contact with the monitoring hub, to have the hit on me called off, yeah?' Ren's head cocked to one side as her hardsuit slid away, plates retracting into one another, drawing back into the skin of her right arm like it was nothing. Jae could see her face for the first time since this had begun, and she was smiling at him. It was almost attractive, in a dangerous sort of way, 'But... We'll talk later. Captain.'

She added the last word after a slight pause, inclining her head and pronouncing it in such a way as to imply it was a big deal, coming from her. There was respect there, buried under a thick layer of sarcasm and humor, but it was unmistakable. She bounded away, skipping lightly over the wreckage of the security drones, turning back at the last moment to call to him over her shoulder.

'Word to the wise,' She said. 'You may want to get yourself decontaminated. I'm not, y'know, contagious or anything, but my handlers definitely saw you touching me, and doing it voluntarily will look good.'

And with that, she was gone. And Jae narrowed his eyes, because he had seen something in hers that he recognized. He often saw it, in soldiers he ended up kicking out of his unit, recommending for dishonorable discharge, because they were the kind who ended up firing on civilians and claiming it was hard to differentiate between civvies and the enemy in the heat of battle. The psychopaths and opportunistic killers who had come to the military because a war was on and they had an itch that it could scratch, without consequences. 

In Ren's eyes, he had seen the glittering glee of a killer fresh from the fight. That radiant glow that came from breaking something with bare hands. He had seen wrath in her eyes, only barely kept in check. And whatever had been done to her, whatever had given her those extraordinary gifts? That was making it worse. He knew.

Ren? She was one to watch. Carefully.

***********************

Shikishima Team 01 mission log: 08

Team: C.O Captain Jae Hoshikuji, Subject Seven (Ren Syfte)

Mission status: Success, all objectives.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 13



Ren tumbled, end over end, laughing her ass off, into the passenger bay of the stealth shuttle, armor clanking against the metal surfaces. Jae had pushed her from behind, one hand held absently behind him, firing his pilfered pistol into the undergrowth to provide covering fire for their escape. In the distance, an explosion rocked the forest, a pillar of fire rising on the horizon where a rebel hideout had once stood. Mission entirely fucking accomplished. 

'Wheels up, baby!' Ren whooped as the bay doors closed behind them, rapping heavily on the door to the cockpit. She flopped heavily into a seat, throwing the safety belts around herself with practiced ease. A grinning Captain Hoshikuji hit the seat beside her, clapping her on the shoulder warmly.

'Good work, Agent Syfte,' He laughed as she bounced in her seat, shaking her ass to some imagined rhythm. In her head, Shichi was cheering; he had gotten to "play," with so many people today, and the explosion had been the cherry on its cake of violence. Tonight had been a good night for the alien intellect.

'Thank you, Captain Hoshikuji,' Ren punched him on the shoulder. He punched back, a little harder. She could take it.

It had been almost a year since Ren had joined Jae's squad, and he would be the first to admit- in fact, he had admitted it to her face- that he had had misgivings about her joining up in the first place. All that weird living armor and unusual strength, not to mention the utter stonewalling he received if he requested additional information from the higher ups... It added up to a situation that seemed increasingly wrong. Jae was completely sure this would backfire, and when it did, it would backfire on him, and someone would get killed. 

But since then... damned if the girl hadn't proven herself. Completely. When Ren could keep her more... problematic inclinations under control, she struck with merciless, surgical precision; a completely autonomous machine that completed her objectives, often before her teammates had even reached theirs. 

And personally... sure, she could be a little abrasive, but there was something about her, some well of inner strength, that really appealed to Jae. After their initial confrontation, and subsequent battle together, she had seemed to put him in her sights, too. Actually, after that interminable, uncomfortable decontamination, she had dragged him off for a drink... though at the time he was certain she was dragging him back to the training floor as she had for Kasuga and the others. After that, she made a point of coming to him whenever she wanted a drinking partner, or at least someone to occupy the same physical space as her, so she wasn't talking to herself. Jae could never tell which...

Her hand on his shoulder broke him out of his reverie. Ren was already twisting around in her harness, and before he could react, her lips were pressed against his. She kissed him lustily, precisely when he wasn't expecting it- from her, "unexpected" meant "at all,"- and deeply, probing his mouth like she had every right to be there. When she pulled away, she did so with a loud "woo!" that reverberated off of the steel walls of the cabin. Jae turned to her with a cocked eyebrow as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

'What was that for?' He found himself smiling without realizing it. 

She shrugged, grinning like a fool with a slightly dazed look in her eye, guffawing inanely. She often got this way after a mission, like she was battle-drunk, and looking for an outlet for all that pent up energy. But this had been the first time she had done so that way. Usually she punched a wall, or the two of them got all sweaty on the training floor. He was getting pretty good at fending her off, reading her, but the truth was, she made him sweat. He would have to be an idiot not to notice the way she looked, all exotic and streamlined, composed of all the best qualities of her half-human parentage. He often wondered what species the other half came from, but he hadn't worked up the courage to ask her yet. 

Sometimes, just occasionally, when they were training, or out on a mission, and she hung at the back of the pack to back him up... He thought he had seen something in her eyes, something that called to him. But he couldn't be sure. For all he knew, it might just be an optical illusion caused by her heterochromia. 

He stared at her in her seat as she grinned away, looking at nothing. Who knew what she was thinking of? But it didn't matter to Jae; he was too busy taking in the pulse of her breath as she sat, clear to him in the few inches of skin exposed on her neck by the removal of her hardsuit's helmet. She had this odd, animalistic quality to her, all the time...

It was too late, he realized. With all the adrenaline running through his own system, and that kiss...

She was on his radar now. He was going to make a move on her. Tonight, damn it.

... If he was lucky, he might even survive the experience.

*********************

'You know, one day you're going to have to tell me how you did that.'

'No, actually I don't,' Ren eyed Jae with faux-coldness.

'Hey, what?' He laughed. 'You up and catch a cruise missile with your face, come out of it just fine, and I'm not allowed to be even a little curious?'

'No. No you're not,' She punched his shoulder, causing him to legitimately flinch. 'State secret and all. Need to know. You want to find out, you need to get yourself promoted, Sir.'

And there it was. That odd harmonic in the way she said Sir. Jae had been hearing it a lot more lately, along with a tiny flicker in her asymmetrical eyes that he wasn't entirely sure he'd properly seen. He'd seen it before, in other people... Never thought he'd see it in Ren.

She was... Well, Ren Syfte was a badass. That cruise missile thing might have been the most recent example of that, but it wasn't the only one. Hell, the two of them had met during one of Ren's badass moments; that one fact had led to the current no-man's land the two of them inhabited. Between squad mates and friends and... Some other, ill defined thing. 

It's not like he could fight by her side for all this time without noticing; he just wondered whether or not he was seeing something that wasn't there. Charging in without knowing could be catastrophic- Jae had seen Ren tear apart flesh like it was tissue paper, after all- but after a night of drinking he wasn't entirely himself. And she was so close, he could smell the earthy, almost metallic scent that was uniquely hers. 

She didn't so much open the door to the barracks as lean against it so forcefully that it had no choice but to retreat or be destroyed. It made her stumble as she entered, chuckling to herself as though it was terribly funny. She was more than a bit tipsy herself. Oh man...

And of course, the barracks were deserted. Rows of empty beds, lived in but not slept in, right now. Just the low hum of the fluorescent lights above, a man and a woman who at least held a little attraction for one another, and a freaking room full of beds. Sometimes Jae suspected the universe was guiding him along more than it outwardly seemed.

He followed Ren languidly as she dropped heavily down onto- yes- his bed. Her smile had always seemed vaguely mischievous to him, and now it was blasting out trouble at high volume. It was those eyes, they sent chills down his spine. He had the feeling of simultaneously being sized up by a predator and a prospective lover...

He hit the bed beside her with a bounce, 'You know, I am still your commanding officer. If I wanted to, I could order you to tell me. I could order you to do a lot of things.'

Her smile became a smirk of amusement, as her eyebrow cocked over her red eye. Intellectually she had to have understood that he was her superior, but Jae could tell something in her still struggled with being reminded of it. With the idea of even having a person who could give her orders. But... Wasn't that part of the appeal?

'Like what?' She asked petulantly, eyes narrowing.

Without thinking, Jae moved. His fingers twitched, with the motion taking his hands before rippling up his arms in a wave of compressed emotion; heat and irritation and desperate, powerful desire all wrapped up together. It was now or never.

He shoved her, firmly, backwards until her back hit the sheets below, one hand pressing firmly down on her collarbone. Automatically, one of Ren's hands came up in a fist; a defensive reflex honed from months and months of military training. Of course, Jae himself had gone through much the same training, just with a few years of field experience behind him that she didn't have. He easily caught her punch, pressing her wrist down against the linen, by her head. He leaned in, face so close to her own, as her face twisted with fury.

'Hey, get the fuck off me!' She snarled, but notably, did not struggle. He knew it would be the work of a moment for Ren to throw him off, even toss him into the opposite wall with relative ease. But she didn't; whether it was because he was her superior, in the end, or whether it was something else... He couldn't quite decide.

Still, the words she spat at him, the anger in her eyes, even the distinct possibility of her completely wrecking him... None of it could touch him. Because here, right now, in this singular moment, he had her pressed down beneath him. He could feel her heart beating fast in her chest, hear her breath coming hard. See and feel the muscles rippling under her skin, seemingly undecided over whether to push him off or pull him closer.

The thought of restraining her like he was, of keeping all that power she had under his thumb. Of finally getting to pay out on all those unspoken promises he'd been keeping to himself, only hoping she was thinking the same thing; of making her his... It was too much to simply back away now.

He was leaning in so close, eyes locked to hers; she was growling under her breath, seemingly at him. Like a creature barely restrained; not even knowing herself whether she would attack or not.

'Kiss me,' The words tumbled from his lips, quiet, almost silent, but hard and unyielding. An order, just for the two of them. 

'Get. Off. Me,' Ren snarled, muscles flexing under his hands, lifting slightly, but not pushing him away. Her voice trembled, just a little, as she added a word she tried to make sound sarcastic, but ended up just... pitiful, 'Sir.'

'I'm not going to tell you again,' He said evenly, allowing her words to break over and around him. His fingers flexed against her neck, squeezing just enough to irritate. He exhaled, breath tickling her neck, 'It's an order. From your commanding officer.'

He leaned in, almost, almost brushing his lips against hers. As he did, he wondered what she would taste like; that line of thinking was only intensified as her tongue flicked across her lips, causing him to pull back. He imagined the battle inside her head; the cold-blooded killer versus the trembling woman beneath him. How embarrassing this must be for her; Subject Seven, the Guardian, Ren Syfte, held beneath her C.O and- yes- craning her neck almost microscopically up at him.

'No no,' He breathed, eyes boring into hers. 'I'm not going to take it from you. You have to give it to me. Come up here and kiss me, Guardian.'

Her cheeks flushed red at the use of one of her codenames. At the corruption of her fearsome reputation; the knowledge that here, now, to him, all that she was on the battlefield meant nothing.

But she didn't move. The conflict within her was so obvious; it practically played out in her eyes. The bloodlust that pulsed away in her mind at all times, that terrible strength that Jae had seen tear men apart with ease... Her image of herself as an all powerful, independent fighter, struggled against the pure want of the moment. The feel of him, the weight of him above her, holding her down. She could make it end, but... Did she want to?

And Jae could see which side would win. Her beautiful eyes showed the torture of it, but she would follow him. Oh yes, she would. She was starting to shake and twitch beneath him, legs squeezed shut as the wrist he held in his hand trembled, almost struggled. But it wouldn't. Not really. All he needed to do was...

Yes.

He pulled away, heard her growl angrily in the back of her throat. Saw the hunger and desperation in her big, mismatched eyes as she followed him up, pressing her mouth to his with a sad little whine. 

She kissed him deeply, passionately, with abandon. Moaning into his mouth as she stretched up as far as his hands, digging into her flesh, allowed her to. Her mouth opened as he reacted, kissing back, pushing his tongue into her mouth and taking it for himself. She melted, just a little; her armor was gone, leaving only the woman underneath behind. 

The rush was incredible, like any close encounter with something deadly. He growled into her mouth, pressing against her as though they were wrestling, as though he had to push against her to win. In a sense, that was correct. He had to keep up the pressure, not just for her benefit, but for his own. This was insane; Ren wasn't just a friend, she was also his second in command. It's not that his superiors cared so much; it's just that he knew that things were going to be very different, from now on.

But who the fuck cares?

His hand left her neck, slid down her body as she writhed against him, lips locked together. He knew she bound her breasts, which was why today they sat so flat against her chest as his hand moved between them, down her stomach... To settle on the crotch of her pants. Feeling the heat of her through the thin blue material, and the pressure of her thighs squeezing, trapping his hand between them. He pressed down hard, and she moaned; she was his.

He pulled away, pushing her off him as she moved to follow him with her mouth. If she had assumed this was going to be a stealthy little fuck in the barracks before everyone else in the squad filtered in for the night, she was sorely mistaken. 

'Strip,' He ordered, voice a little hoarse by this point. 

'What?' Her own voice trembled slightly, as she searched his expression for some indication that this was all an act. 'Jae, I can't-'

'Strip or go, Ren,' He glared at her.

Another pause and he could watch the struggle playing out in her head. A core of vulnerability surrounded by layers of armor and hostility. Something struggling to get out, even as the surface Ren fought against everything that was happening. Nothing else mattered, not the rest of the base, not the military, not even the rest of the squad. His attention was solely focused on the conflicted woman in front of him. And he could tell, her situation was the same. 

'You know, you're a real fucking asshole,' She snarled savagely as she began unbuttoning her shirt. He noted with interest that he had been right; she did bind her tits, with a one-piece black fabric binder. He wondered what she would look like naked, before remembering, with a slight smile; he didn't have to wait long.

She balled up her shirt and threw it at him as hard as she could, doing the same with her pants. It might have seemed like an act of aggression, but Jae figured otherwise; her angry surface layers made her throw it, but if he thought about it, she was giving him her clothes. She wouldn't be able to get dressed again until he said so. Under her shirt was her binder, a purpose built, tight black number that pressed her breasts down to give her that boyish figure she prized so much. In its own way, the thing was quite attractive, but it was so much better taken off. The binder went wide when she threw that, too, landing on his pillow as he smiled at her.

Newly denuded, Ren spent a few moments setting herself straight. That binder did many things for her, but it took some time got recover from, after wearing it for any extended period of time. The seams had left marks tracking down her sides, and she could see Jae eyeing them with amorous intent. She stretched languorously, trying to pay him no mind, rubbing her hands over her skin in an attempt to massage some life back into her previously restricted parts. Luckily for Jae, this meant massaging her breasts, which she had never been quite satisfied with. They had always seemed like they belonged on a girl far more feminine that she; all pert pink nipples and soft, rounded flesh. They weren't exactly huge, but they were large enough that they sometimes drove her to distraction with just how much they didn't fit in with the rest of her. Jae seemed to like them, though. That was something. 

Ren cracked her knuckles in a vaguely threatening way, as if daring him to answer her incorrectly, 'Happy now, fucker?'

'That's Sir, to you,' He said, voice even replicating his commanding tone, from the battlefield. It'd work; it had been ingrained to work, 'Say it for me.'

'Yes, Sir,' She growled, saluting in a manner that was oddly aggressive. But Jae could see it in her eyes, and more importantly between her legs; she was getting off on this.

Without fanfare, he gave her another order: to lock the door and close all the curtains around the room. The effect this had on the tall, naked woman was highly amusing. First, she realized that she had stripped naked in a room with plenty of uncovered windows and an unlocked door. Second, she realized the order she had been given would, by nature, require her to stand in front of these uncovered windows in order to cover them. Her nose crinkled in anger, hands balling into fists, and with a whispered expletive, she walked as quickly as she was able, to get this over with. 

Oh, the vulnerability in her eyes was a joyous thing to Jae, as he watched her busy herself around the room. The door was locked first- a prudent course of action since it was late- before his naked soldier-girl moved on to the windows. There were several in the room, and drawing the curtains on them all required her to make a full circuit of the room. He watched her with undisguised interest throughout, noting the way her eyes darted around the view of outside she got from each window, searching for eyes upon her naked flesh from outside. She moved fast, but who knew if anyone had actually seen her? This move had been calculated, but Jae was still immensely glad he had chosen it, especially as Ren stood before him, task complete.

'Done, Sir,' She spat the word as though it was poison. 'Now then...'

Did she figure the game was over? That he'd had his fun, and now they could both have hers? She walked towards him, hips swaying hypnotically, flesh pale in the artificial light. It didn't do her justice, but nevertheless she was a breathtaking sight. Soon she was in front of him, hands working to undo his buttons.

'Take your hands off me,' Jae said, voice suddenly very hard. 'Did I say you could touch me?'

'What, Sir?' Ren cocked an eyebrow. 'I thought you wanted to fuck.'

'You thought what? Hmm? You wanted me to fuck you, so you went for it, yes?'

Ren nodded.

'No no,' Jae said softly. 'You have to say it.'

'You want me to say I want to fuck you? No problem, because I do,' Ren tilted her head to one side, smiling with acid sweetness. 'I want you to fuck me. Sir.'

Jae arched an eyebrow, running a hand through his dark hair. That was an interesting choice of words, but he didn't doubt their authenticity. Behind her irritation and humiliation, he could see the desperation there. The way she held herself was completely alien; unlike any other interaction he had ever had with her. He eyed her thoughtfully. Ah, yes...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 13



'Then come here,' He said. She moved, getting within arm's reach and leaning down to kiss him again, before he stopped her with a single raised hand, 'Kneel.'

Her eyes flared bright at that, teeth grinding together, and for a moment Jae thought he may have gone too far. But she folded her long legs beneath her, glaring at him the entire time, 'Yes, Sir.'

'Do you know what I want?' Some part of him found this terribly amusing, watching Ren kneel at his feet, glaring daggers at him like a petulant child. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap at the question; oh yes, she knew. It was blindingly obvious.

'Yes, Sir,' She said, and it was clear the honorific still slid off her tongue with a foul taste. Jae figured it was time to put something else on her tongue, then.

'You'll do it, too. You'll do it yourself, without me having to tell you,' He reached out, running the pad of one finger across her hairline. 'You'll do it, because you want to.'

Her internal conflict was so obvious, eyes flickering darkly as she frowned, 'You're such an asshole, Sir.' Her lip curled disdainfully, yet she added, almost timidly, 'Are you going to take it out, or what?'

'No. You are.'

She growled at him, wordlessly, but reached for the button on his fly anyway. Briefly, Jae considered making her ask permission, but that might be going overboard. As interesting as it was, watching Ren maintain her aggressive facade even as she unbuckled his pants, she probably would reject him if things got out of hand. The trick here was to finely calibrate events so they worked out. It was a delicate game.

Then came the moment where the naked woman at his feet lifted his erect member from his pants an eyed it, almost warily. This was the tipping point; if she continued it would be impossible to maintain a professional relationship. This was the moment where everything changes. 

He was silent, just waiting for her to make a move. In a way, this was worse than if he had just ordered her to progress; now, any action she did take would be solely her own. Her choice, and yet somehow there was no choice at all.

She glared up at him as she leaned in, daring him to say anything. Her thighs clenched together, her body subject to the unabashed eroticism of the moment as her lips wrapped around the head of his cock, feeling the heat of it invade her mouth. She didn't do this often, almost never in fact, and her cheeks flushed hotly as she did it now.

Ren couldn't decide which was worse; looking up at Jae with his cock in her mouth, or closing her eyes and risking seeming like she was overly into it. She settled for a challenging glare as she shifted her weight from knee to knee, simply allowing his dick to settle on her tongue, waiting for the first indication that he was making fun of her; that first hint that, to him, this was a joke.

For Jae's part, simply enjoying the sensation was the only thing on the books. He reached out a hand, stroking through Ren's dirty blonde hair almost tenderly, before gently pushing her forward, compelling her to begin.

She glared at him as she sucked, inexpert mouth gliding up and down his shaft as smoothly as she could. Her eyes dared him to comment; they both knew how radically out of character this was, the smug expression on Jae's face was proof enough of that, but who knew how Ren would react if he called attention to it? 

Above her, the man of the hour leaned back on his bed, eyes locked on hers. It was to his credit that, after everything he had seen Ren do in the past, he still held her gaze, not backing down for even a second. To do so would break the spell, show weakness in the face of a woman who, absolutely, was looking for it. A crack in the armor, any crack, she would make him suffer for.

He decided to push his luck, smiling genially, 'Oh, don't look at me like that. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't want to. You don't do anything unless you want to. And I've gotta say, this is a good look for you. Might have you doing this more often.'

He laid a hand on her head, stroking her hair with his thumb and offering the slightest downward pressure to urge her to take it deeper. Her mismatched eyes were livid, and though she could easily have rebuffed him, something in his steady, almost impassive gaze made her obey.

She felt small, tiny really, as though she was betraying herself. She was Ren Syfte, the Guardian, the emperor's personal problem solver! She wasn't... this. She barely listened to Jae's orders out in the field, what was going on now? 

Her cheeks burned with humiliation, she wanted nothing more than to go hide in some corner but... it was so hot. Her lips suckled Jae's cock, an act that Ren had only done once before- time enough to discover that it wasn't something she enjoyed- and he stared down at her, locking eyes, giving her every sign that he was enjoying himself. His eyes seemed to pin her down; the ever dimming, ever less fiery defiance in her eyes broke over and around him, all her threats meant nothing. 

And here was the strangest part: Shichi was completely silent. 

Shichi was never silent; Ren had lived with a little, running commentary on her life for the better part of a year now. If she worked at it she could force the voice to be soft enough that it was barely perceptible, but she couldn't get rid of it entirely. But here, on her knees with eyes spitting fire, heart thudding in her chest, the little alien was silent. She could still feel him there, but it was as if he was watching, observing this new side of her. It was unsettling.

She lifted herself off of Jae's length, eyeing him distastefully, 'Am I done here, Sir?' She growled, hoping he wouldn't notice her thighs trembling. Or... the glisten of the light between her legs, for that matter.

'I don't know, are you?' Jae said, head tilting slightly. 'Personally, I'd want you to work the tongue a little more, Ren.'

Ren's lip curled, she exhaled explosively, tongue peeking out from between her lips as she dipped her head, the tip touching the head of Jae's cock...

'No!' Ren snarled, leaping to her feet and shaking her head. 'No, damn it! Enough! I'm not gonna be your whore. You want to fuck me, Jae? Then fuckin' fuck me! Games, bitch? No! E-fuckin'-nough!'

She wished, fervently, that she'd had the internal fortitude to simply storm off. To collect her clothes, dress- all the while cursing as violently as she could at Jae- and simply leave. But she couldn't. She just couldn't. She only hoped she wasn't trembling.

Ren had seen grown men, soldiers, flee from her, when she yelled like that. Jae knew she could be a cold-blooded killing machine with very little provocation, but now, watching her fists clench and her teeth grind together, he didn't even flinch. He did frown, expression growing hard as he leaned back on his hands, noting that her eyes involuntarily went to his cock as he did so. 

'Come here, Ren,' He said evenly, patting his knee. There was a moment, a battle of wills where she remained stationary, face lit up with anger. This went on for some time, Ren's entire body poised on the cusp of fleeing. It seemed to Jae that she was of two minds; one was her pride, berating her for even staying as long as she had. The other was her body, and it would always, always win out, here. All he had to do was hold her gaze, as steadily as he could, and let her learn that all her anger and posturing wasn't something he was afraid of. At times it looked like Ren was about to say something, to cuss him out, but at the last moment she'd shut her figurative mouth and merely stand there. Eventually, and with a frustrated growl, she stepped forward, glowering at her captain moments before she sat her nude butt down on the bed between his legs.

'You know, you act all tough and masculine, like a real badass,' Jae whispered in her ear, hot breath sweeping over the side of her face. She only pulled away a little, growling slightly in his face. Without warning, the flat of his palm slapped down heavily against her inner thigh, her legs spreading automatically. Slowly, he moved up her leg, 'But I know you've got a cunt, Ren. A wet-' Fingers creeping, finding her hips- 'Slutty-' Pads of his fingers now gently caressing her lips- 'Cunt.'

Fingers entering her. Oh, god.

She moaned, the sound torn from her throat before she could stop it. Her teeth clenched suddenly, almost as if she could retrieve the sound before it reached the ears of her tormentor, but all it really did was give her moans a feral, violent quality.

'See? You do like this,' Jae's fingers moved, barely inches, in and out, curling in a particular way that sent arcing bolts of electric pleasure shooting through her. Ren fought back a shudder as he continued, 'You're wet, Ren. Admit it, you're enjoying yourself.'

'God damn it, Jae,' Ren growled, fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly. For a moment it looked as though she was going to turn around and push him away, but as the captain clucked his tongue and slipped a third finger inside her, she gasped, legs snapping closed as a tremor went through her whole body. 

Another cluck, and Jae spread his fingers as widely as he could, causing Ren to cry out in discomfort, 'Keep your legs spread, Ren. And answer my question.'

She squirmed a little as her legs parted reluctantly, cheeks burning red as she ground out from between clenched teeth, 'I... I like it. Jae, c'mon- Ah!'

His fingers slid deeply inside her, spreading her as widely as he could, one hand reaching up her silken, alien skin to grip a nipple firmly between finger and thumb, 'You are speaking to a superior officer, Ren.'

'Sir!' Ren snarled. 'I fuckin' like it, Sir! God damn it, Sir, please!'

'Much better,' Jae rewarded her with a fleeting, harsh pressure on Ren's clit, causing her to temporarily abandon her pretenses of resistance and shiver, hard, pressing herself against her captain. Only momentarily. His fingers began to move in her, 'Now, tell me when you're close.'

Ren's teeth gritted, hair falling about her face and thankfully obscuring her burning cheeks and lustful eyes. Her hands shook; she wished she could summon her usual anger, round it on Jae like she had to so many faceless soldiers in the field. But it didn't work that way; Shichi was silent, watching her. Besides, Jae was her captain. Her commanding officer. And he was... he was... Oh god...

His palm pressed between her legs, fingers sliding deeply into her pussy. Her entire body seemed wired from that spot, her awareness completely focused on that single hot, wet spot, and Jae's fingers moving with loving attention inside it. Still, she refused to totally give in; her back curved away from him, teeth clenched in a desperate attempt to stop herself from vocalizing her pleasure. Her pride wouldn't allow her to let him know how hot she found all this. Inside, a part of her was still screaming for her to turn around and punch Jae's face right off of his head. Of course, that little voice was drowned out by the beating of her heart, the blood flowing into... certain areas...

Shichi was watching, Shichi was watching... In her mind's eye, Ren was imagining the strange being's eyes narrowing curiously as it watched, wondering what, exactly, was happening to its host. And just like that, a sudden realization swept through the Half, filling her with dread. 

She hadn't had a boyfriend since being stationed here in Shikishima, but that wasn't the same thing as not being able to get off. And Ren had discovered certain... interesting side effects to Shichi. The research division had explained to her that her nervous system now had increased conduction rates since her implantation surgery, but she hadn't been prepared for those nerves to suddenly become awesome. The first time she had gotten herself off after implantation, she had almost broken her wrist with the force of her legs clenching, and yes, she had screamed. 

It had been a little odd, with Shichi experiencing the act from inside her head, but... damn!

The point was, as good as she felt, Jae was going to discover all the little quirks of her alien-enhanced orgasm very, very soon. Her legs trembled, her toes curled against the cold, hard floor, but she found herself hanging, growling deep in her throat in true frustration. She remembered, he had told her to...

'I'm... Mm, I'm close, Sir,' Her jaw snapped closed seconds after the words left her mouth, teeth grinding together. As if the words were an affront, stolen from her by her treacherous body and shot out into the world. She groaned in frustration as Jae's fingers froze inside her, leaving her hovering on the edge, just shy of tipping over into a wet, moaning abyss.

'Good. You can't cum, Ren. Not until I say,' Jae began a slow, teasing motion, fingers tipping in and out just slightly, thumb feather soft on her clit. It was enough to keep her at that high, without applying enough pressure, enough depth or power, to make her cum. Damn him, 'But maybe now you'll be amenable to answering some questions for me, hmm?'

'Fuck you!' She snarled, staring resolutely ahead. 'Sir.' 

'We'll start simple, shall we?' He whispered calmly in her ear. His free hand slid up, cupping her breast, 'You have such lovely breasts, Ren. And yet you bind them. Why?'

'They... They don't fit...'

'Hmm? Speak up, now,' Jae pressed in a little closer to her, his chest now flush with her back. The heat of his body was like a brand, to her enflamed senses. 

'My tits, Sir. They don't... They're not right,' Ren stammered a little, seemingly having trouble expressing the concept. 'Too girly.'

'Aren't you a girl?'

'I'm me, Sir,' Ren growled, finally back on solid ground. 'Nobody else.'

'Alright, let's move on,' Jae's fingers continued their slow, delicate motions inside her, keeping her deeply immersed in a low, spreading heat that made it nearly impossible for her to think straight, or at least to go more than three seconds at a time without thinking of getting fucked. 'How am I doing, by the way? Do you want to cum, Ren?'

'Fuckin'...' She wound up to take a shot, but calmed herself at the last second, mostly because of his finger gently increasing pressure on her clit. 'Yes, I would like to cum, Sir...'

By now, several minutes of this had elapsed, with Jae proving quite adept at keeping his subordinate close to the edge of orgasm without allowing her even a moment to cool down. Ren's toes were in a constant state of curl, her eyes kept flicking to the clock on the wall; it was still early enough that it was feasible for them to be the only two in the room, but soon, sooner than she wanted to think about, other people- her squad mates- would be wanting to come in and use their racks. Not for the first time, Ren cursed the Uo military's damnable cheapness; separate rooms for captains would have completely alleviated this! She herself stayed in her own room closer to the research labs, in case anything happened, but Jae... 

Damn it.

It might have been all in her head, but she was sure she could hear people moving outside...

'I'm not going to let you,' Jae whispered softly to her, chuckling slightly as he heard her answering discontented sigh. 'Not until you answer my next question truthfully.'

'Jae-... S-sir... C'mon...'

'Answer me, and I'll let you cum,' His voice lilted so softly, folding itself through her brain and sapping her will like nothing else. Shouldn't she be resisting? Shouldn't she be angry? His fingers were overwhelming... 'And then you can be on your way.'

'Okay, fine. Sir,' He noticed the way she ground out the honorific, every time, as though it caused her some internal pain. For that matter, it actually might have; Ren was a very prideful woman- not that she didn't have reason to be- and part of the reason toying with her like this was so damn sexy was that it was clearly killing her. And yet, she was so, so wet...

'Why don't you tell me about that neat little armor system of yours?' He whispered it, low and barely audible, in her ear. There was probably at least one audio device here to pick him up, and he'd rather not have this recorded. Well, they did say never to mix business with pleasure, and this was why: it was risky as hell.

Ren's eyes slid to regard Jae, although she didn't turn to face him, couldn't bear to look him in the eye as he held her pinioned at the brink of orgasm, 'I can't tell you. Sir, it's a state secret, if I told you we would both be charged with treason.'

'You'll tell me, if you want to cum...' Jae stroked his fingers, deep inside his captive subordinate, hitting just the right spot inside her to make her stiffen in his arms, moaning with abandon, any pretense of coercion dissolved... So close to the edge but never pushed over. She tried moving herself, pushing his fingers just that little bit further, those last vital inches to bring her to relief...

He slapped her thigh again, hard enough to leave a mark this time, and slipped his fingers almost all the way out of her, with a pronounced wet noise. Ren growled in animal frustration, 'I can't, Sir! We'd go to prison. And not civilian prison, either. Fucking military, Sir!'

'No, we won't, because you're going to be very quiet, and we are alone. I don't intend to tell anyone, Ren,' His breath caressed her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly, too slowly, his fingers eased back into her sopping cunt, 'But I need to know. You're my best field agent, not to mention my friend and... whatever this is, but you're also a part of my squad, and if this thing you have will endanger me or my men, I will hear about it. I can do this all night.'

As if to demonstrate his point, Jae spent a few minutes pointedly ignoring Ren's by turns pitiably lustful and insanely angry vocalizations. Her pleading, cajoling and threats fell on deaf ears as he held her down by sheer force of will and an innate, almost supernatural command over her pleasure; playing her like a master violinist plays his instrument. His fingers glided through her slick depths, enflaming her senses, ripping moan after pleasured moan from her, but never, ever giving her that requisite push. How could he do it? How could he know the exact point where only a tiny bit more pressure, more depth, just a few seconds more of his rough thumb against her clit, would send her shuddering over the edge and into the abyss? How could he pull away so effectively, even when she chased his hand with her hips? How did he know her so fucking well?

It had only been a few minutes, but by the end Ren was a panting mess, mussed and matted hair falling in front of her eyes, mouth agape and trembling. A deep red blush had spread down her alabaster chest, and between her legs a visible sheen of pussy juice had spread across the insides of her thighs and ass cheeks. There was a damp spot on Jae's bed beneath her, and his fingers glistened as they slid out of her. The Half's growls were becoming more like whimpers by the second.

'Are you ready to play yet, kitten?'

Ren baulked at the feminine nickname, but her mouth gabbled a different reply, 'I can't, Sir. We're being listened to...'

'Of course we are,' Jae nodded soothingly. 'But I know the kind of equipment the surveillance division uses around low risk areas like this. So long as we keep our voices low, like this, and avoid certain trigger phrases, then the system automatically deletes what it hears. Nobody will find out, except you and I.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 13



'Why do you want to know so badly, Sir?'

'Because you are lying to me,' Jae hissed. 'And I won't have that! Not from you! Now, spill.'

He punctuated his order with a flickering, glancing blow across her clit, making Ren cry out and almost, almost cum. It was too late, too damn late; she was his, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She would act like she hated it, but right now, hovering on this edge with no other option, she would tell him what he wanted to know. There was no other choice.

'Fine, you fuckin'... Fine, Sir...' Ren closed her eyes, aware of precisely nothing, other than her aching flesh, her desire for this to end, for the torture to cease... For Jae to push her over that edge into climax. She wanted him so badly right now, much as it made her uncomfortable to admit it. She was going to risk her career for it; not that she was in any state of mind to recognize what it was she was potentially giving up, here.

'It's an alien, Sir.'

'We're all aliens here,' Jae responded quickly, altogether too smoothly. Damn him, Ren thought. Why couldn't he be at least a little flustered? Didn't he want her? Didn't he find her attractive at all? Shamefully, that last though made her heart sink a little, even as she berated herself for being so damn sentimental. Why couldn't she get to him? He continued, 'We all came over on the colony ships, and anyway, you're a Half. Do better, Ren.'

'An alien we've never encountered before. That get your interest, Sir?' She snapped, surreptitiously pushing as much of his slack fingers into herself as possible. 'It came down in a meteor, but I don't know the whole story, there. I'm just a container for it.'

'And what does that mean?' He genuinely sounded bothered by all this, but Ren had a hard time telling whether he was concerned for her specifically, or for the state of the military complex that was running clandestine experiments on alien matter. 

'They... It was intelligent, or something. A naturally occurring metal compound, but it was sentient. They tried talking to it through computer networks, found it needed a host body to survive. The meteor was a colony ship designed to get it to a set of suitable hosts,' He was rewarding her, all throughout her explanation, with little bursts of pressure to the sensitive areas inside her, places she hadn't even known had existed until today. Tiny little places that nevertheless could make her shiver like she had frostbite, 'They started splitting it... It's like a starfish, it grows back when it's cut. It- Mmm!- The research division keeps it locked up here, this whole installation was built around the original crash site... And they've been implanting it into human test subjects. You already know how that turned out.'

'I thought it was just an experimental weapons system...' Jae whispered, shocked.

'In a way, I guess it is... Sir,' She moaned as Jae pressed at her clit, a reward for remembering to address him correctly. 'The copies are just as intelligent as the original, so there are... there are programs put in place to restrict it, stop it from going out of control.'

'Which obviously worked so well,' Jae deadpanned in her ear, recalling all the times where Ren had seemed to be visibly struggling with her hardsuit as it reached out to endanger the mission objective. 'What did they do?'

'They...' She moaned, lost her breath as Jae teased her mercilessly, pushing her to a fever pitch but never just letting her finish. 'They lobotomized it, Sir. Gave it the mind of a child, to control it better.'

'So all those times you lost control were fucking temper tantrums?' Jae's eye twitched. 'Why did they pick you, though? You're not exactly... Well, you know.'

'I'm a half-breed, Sir,' Ren snapped, trying hard not to shudder as Jae's thumb circled her clit. 'The nerds thought that having a broader genetic base would give the creature more leeway to synchronize with its host. They were right.'

'This is a lot to take in...' Jae blinked. 'Thank you, Ren.'

'Please, Sir...' She tried not to whimper, tried to make her plea sound as strong as she could, even in her fraught state. She was so wet, practically dripping down his fingers, aching so badly...

He touched her again, and it was like a wildfire sweeping through her body. Like touching an active electrical wire. She jerked in his arms, gasping for breath, 'Oh! Ah, thank you, Sir! Thank you-'

'Get dressed,' Jae said briskly, removing his fingers from her and tipping her off of his lap.

'What the fuck? Sir, you said-'

'I know what I said, but there are consequences to lying to me, Ren. I'm sure there'll be people wanting to get in soon, so get dressed,' Jae shrugged, leaning back. 'You're forbidden to cum tonight.'

'What'll stop me, Sir?' Ren growled, regaining a little bit of her former fire, albeit with trembling thighs. 'I could just go take care of myself.'

'But you won't,' Jae said calmly, an immoveable bulwark in the face of her venomous words. 'Because you like what we did tonight. If you broke the rules now... I doubt I'd be able to play with you again.'

He caught her eye, as he spoke the end of his last sentence, chilled eyes reaching up into her own and peeling back the layers of pretense, revealing her inner core, whether she wanted to show it or not. Past all the fire, past the bluff and the anger and the harsh words, there was a longing. A deep want; of him, of her captain, of Sir. A part of her that thrilled at using the word, a part of her that ached to open herself to him, to lie back and allow him to take control of her. A part that, even through the frustration at being denied, shivered and wanted more. That craved the point at which he would turn his back and send her to bed frustrated and alone.

She pulled on her clothes with hands she tried hard to stop shaking. Dark tank top over her bared and unbound breasts, and loose slacks over an aching, denied cunt. She stuffed her binder and underpants into one deep pocket, before turning to her captain, examining him with a guarded, silent expression. Outside, the sounds of activity had become audible in a vague, muffled way. People, probably the other members of their squad, were making their way up the long path to the barracks. Ren held Jae's gaze, but inside she wondered: what would they find when they reached the door?

Jae stared back for a moment, before breaking the silence, 'There's one more thing you need to do, Ren. Something you left unfinished. Get on your knees.'

'Jae-' She rolled her eyes as he narrowed his. 'Sir, if I don't get to finish, why should you? Also? There are people coming.'

'Then you'd better hurry up, yes?' Jae cocked an eyebrow, very pointedly not addressing the former question in favor of uncaring blitheness. 

'Don't fuck with me like this, Jae!' Ren snarled, rallying around her quickly regrouping memories of how she had thought her first time with Jae should have gone. In return, Jae simply turned his cold gaze on her; a simple, dispassionate look that turned her guts to water. Her mouth opened, almost by itself, '... Sir.'

'Get on your knees, Ren,' The worst part was how unaffected he seemed by all this. By this point, Ren was breathing heavily, covered in a thin layer of sweat, with disheveled hair and clothes barely put on the right way. But Jae looked the same as he always did, but for his still erect cock sticking out from his pants. He wore the same cool, wry smile, his eyes still sparkled with intellect... In essence, he was her captain, same as always. Only the situation had changed, twisting around the two of them like a corkscrew; instead of serving the squad, the military, the emperor... Ren was now serving her captain. Only her captain. The thought was...

Her lip curled with disgust, but she knelt before him, feeling for all the world like she was prostrating herself before some graven idol, a thought that didn't exactly sit well with her. Without fanfare, knowing that delaying would only make it worse, Ren suppressed the leaden feeling in her stomach and leaned in, wrapping her lips around Jae's length. It was hard going, even now, she was pushing down on every instinct she had, for reasons she herself didn't quite understand. All she knew, if she tried to really examine what was going on, she was compelled by the sheer, unfamiliar, electric thrill of... Of what? Of kneeling? Prostrating herself before this man? Submitting? What?

Not that any of that really mattered; now was the time she could be sure she was actually affecting Jae. She could feel him shiver, just slightly, as her mouth engulfed him, tongue pressed hard and inexpertly against the underside. He grunted, too; a tiny exhalation of breath that, to Ren's mind, he may have been trying to hide from her. It put her in mind of a competition; it was her job to make him do something, anything, to prove she could have an effect. It has his task to suppress that, remain in control and keep her down there. Thinking like that made her feel a little better; made this whole concept of submission a little more palatable. 

She sucked, calling to mind the few times she had done this before, in addition to every bad porn she had ever watched. She tried to convince herself that she was only trying in order to finish this quickly, but the truth, if she examined her mind, was that she liked it when he shifted in his seat, or when his legs tensed. She liked knowing she could get a rise out of him, if she wanted to.

Even his hand on her head didn't feel so bad, when he placed it gently in her hair, guiding her to go deeper, to move in certain specific ways...

'Ren...' He said, voice audibly rougher with the treatment he was getting. 'Hey Ren? I'm going to cum on your face...'

He was teasing, he had to be. Both of them could hear people moving outside the door. It was only a matter of time...

'The door's locked,' She reminded him gently, pulling off of his cock momentarily. 'Sir.'

'You're right,' He shrugged. 'I suppose I'll just have to make you unlock it, like that.'

Though she never stopped sucking- his hand in her hair made certain of that- her face visibly paled at the thought, and the unerring certainty that he would do it, he really would. She knew his joking voice, and that hadn't been it. Unless he was really screwing with her...

'Oh, don't like that idea?' Jae's voice was gentle, a velvet sound that wrapped around her, teasing her horribly. 'Well, maybe I'll cum in your mouth instead. If you beg.'

'Mmm, fuck you, Sir,' She growled, pulling away from him, a dreamy look in her eyes. It quickly became a hard edged look as she realized he wasn't joking.

'You'll get back to work,' Jae said, gently, gently. 'And I'll cum on your face, unless you beg. You only have to ask nicely, Ren. Tell me how much you want to taste it, and maybe I'll be moved to help you out. Really, I'd be doing you a favor.' 

'You fuckin'-... Damn it!' Ren snarled, eye twitching but the threat of what was coming driving her onward. The time limit was the trick, Jae knew. Keep her thinking there was a time limit and she'd comply.

'Please, Sir,' Ren deadpanned, mouth a deeply defined frown. 'Please cum in my mouth.'

'That didn't have a lot of heart,' Jae knew precisely how far to push. He could see his subordinate's eyes cycling through anger and lust, one after the other. He had her, 'Convince me you want to taste it.'

'I don't,' She growled, while her eyes flickered: I do. 

'Do it anyway,' He said smoothly, watching her closely for every little shift of expression she gave. Oh yes, time for that final little push. 'Slut.'

The Half's entire body tensed, as though she was ready to pounce, but she caught herself at the last second, scowling. With an inarticulate, wordless growl and a slight glance toward the door, she dived back in, taking the head of his cock into her mouth and practically swallowing it whole. Her zeal was based more on a desire to... Well, Jae didn't really know what she was thinking, only that she would regret trying something so dramatic this early on. She gagged, pulling back to the tip before continuing at a more measured pace, tongue pressed flat against his underside as she sucked.

'Don't swallow it yet,' Was all the warning he gave her before he came, shooting his load over her tongue. He laid the butt of his palm firmly against her forehead, keeping her at a distance so that the head of his cock was in the perfect position to fill her mouth, make her taste every spurt as it filled her. Through it all, she remained stubbornly insistent on maintaining eye contact, proud and shining eyes glaring up at him as though daring him to put a foot wrong. He allowed it, grunting slightly as he finished, slipping his dick from her lips. 

He bade her stand, 'You haven't swallowed yet?' She nodded, eyes still locked with his, mouth full and head held high. The salty taste of him was ever present on her tongue as her mouth churned his seed, determined to see this through, prove to him that she was capable of taking everything he dished out and then some. After today she doubted she could simply deny that she had enjoyed this; from now on it was a matter of pride. He wouldn't break her.

'Well, you're not allowed to swallow yet,' Jae cocked an eyebrow, tucking himself back into his pants and standing to face her, eye to eye. 'You'll wait until you get back to your room, and sit down on your bed to do that.'

To her credit, Ren's gaze barely flickered. She didn't speak, she couldn't speak, but she held his eyeline, refusing to give her captain, her Sir, even an inch. Her heart thudded in her chest, thoughts of having to walk pretty much the length of the base to return home like this weighing on her mind, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him get to her, not now. Not when it would be so easy to seem weak.

'Alright,' Jae nodded in approval. 'You may go, Agent Syfte.' 

He grinned wryly as he turned, busying himself with some other thing where he could afford to ignore her. Ren tried to keep her steps level and even, to make damn sure it didn't look like she was fleeing, or trying to do anything other than saunter back to her room... With a mouthful of his cum. Yes.

'Oh, and remember: don't cum tonight,' He called over his shoulder, causing her to stiffen and squeak in a pathetic way she hoped he hadn't heard.

By the time she'd finally gotten the door unlocked with unsteady hands, there were people on the other side of it wanting to get in. In particular, Hirasawa saw her in the doorway, looked past her to Jae, and put two and two together, lewdly and rather loudly to everyone concerned. Jae simply smiled mysteriously, not giving anything away, but Ren was forced to push past them silently, trying desperately to stop her steps from matching the frantic, out of control rhythm of her heart. She hoped they hadn't seen her blushing. 

Oddly, the truth was exactly as Jae had predicted; she kept his cum in her mouth the entire trip back across the base, avoiding people she knew where she could, and glaring unpleasantly at the ones she couldn't. Ren had bad moods, this was an established fact around Installation 01, and so those who knew her wouldn't be entirely surprised to see her having one. Still, a little voice at the back of her mind nagged; They know what you did, Ren. They can tell what you've got in your mouth. You reek of sex and frustration. You sure there's not a wet stain down there?

It was a true relief to be able to shut her door behind her and practically leap to her bed. Her butt made contact with the linen and in the same moment her nose wrinkled with distaste as she swallowed, Jae's sticky seed dripping down her throat. She leaned back on her hands.

Why had she done that? What did it mean? What did Jae- captain, Sir... whatever- think of her now? What was going to happen next? 

She opened her mouth, felt the taste of him still lingering there, spoke for the first time since, 'Well... That was eye opening...'

Ren, I don't understand....

Shichi sounded perplexed, a sensation with which Ren was currently intimately familiar, 'Neither do I, Shichi...'

*******************

Present Day

Location: Trismestigius

Designation: Under attack



'Sir, the reports I've been getting from the east wing indicate that the Half is active, and that she's activated that monster,' Huxley approached his employer cautiously; he was looking edgy, and Huxley had seen him edgy before. People got hurt.

'Oh? How interesting!' His boss stopped just short of clapping his hands with joy. Huxley moved to interject, as gently as he felt he could.

'Sir, if you knew the Half could do all these things, why didn't you tell any of the men?'

The man turned, looked at Huxley as though he didn't quite understand why he would be asking that, 'Huxley, I have no obligation to safeguard the men. My only objective is to watch Sander Hackett squirm, to see how he reacts. And in time, to see him again. That time is fast approaching, and trust me when I say I await it with bated breath and a swiftly beating heart, but until then...'

He smiled, that same chilling, void smile that seemed to actually suck at the air around him like a vacuum, drawing in positivity from objects in the vicinity and making it hard for Huxley to believe that anything good could exist in a universe that contained this man. When he next spoke, he only served to confirm this theory.

'Isn't this way a lot more fun?'



To be continued...

Votes, comments and feedback, positive or negative, are hugely appreciated! Thanks, readers!



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 14



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello, everyone! Sorry for the rather long delay, but I became a father since the last installment, and that tends to curb one's ability to write continuously. Not that I've given up, and you can expect to see more from this series, hopefully at a faster pace, in future. Many thanks to Allyourbase for editing help, to Isabel for her creative input, and to my slave Logicaldreamer for being awesome and an inspiration. Votes, comments and feedback are super appreciated, so please let me know what you think, okay?

Enjoy!

*********************

Silence, thin and crystalline, descended over the crowd. In some cases, Tsugi's and Kanaria's specifically, it was astonished silence, and in others to wit, the group of mercenaries, it was the highly uncomfortable silence of one for whom the situation has very quickly turned, though in an uncertain way. The silence of one trying desperately to reevaluate the present based on suddenly introduced new information.

For Ren, it was merely the confident silence of one who knew how the next few seconds were going to play out, and was very, very happy about that.

But this was a silence designed to be broken, and in this case, it was broken by the soldiers, almost as one, remembering that they did, in fact, have weapons. And that each of them was pointed squarely at Ren.

'Do not move!' One of them, presumably the leader, shouted. 'Or we will open fire!'

Ren tilted her head slightly, 'Why haven't you? As if it'd make a difference. Let me show you just how outclassed you are, ladies.'

The fact that she hadn't stopped grinning the entire time was highly unsettling, and as she took a step forward, the entire mercenary group took a step back. Seemingly satisfied that she had made her point, Ren flexed her arms, an expression of concentration on her face. And then it happened.

To say it started out innocently would be wrong, because taken individually each element of what happened next would comfortably fit into a horror movie. It would be correct, however, to say that it was certainly less than visually dramatic; thin orange tendrils, squirming and alive, began to sprout from the black membrane of Ren's skinsuit, a living, alien patchwork. They kept growing, as the fascinated audience watched in rapt, vaguely horrified silence, and spread, building across her body in waves, like an eldritch tide. And eventually, the little individual tendrils began to make a simple muscular framework, which in turn made something more complex, on and on, bit by bit...

By the time the musculature had been covered up with thin, yet undeniably strong, layers of armor, Ren was having trouble suppressing her laughter. If she had wanted to, she could have grown her hardsuit in the space of a moment, let it ripple across her skin and be done with it, but today she had opted for the longer, more dramatic reveal. The kind she had been asked to show so many different officials and higher ups to convince them to give the research divisions more money. The kind that really put the scare in her enemies.

She twisted her head with a mechanical whirr, feeling the heavy metal shift as though it were her own flesh, and looked over her shoulder at Tsugi and Kanaria, 'You two okay?'

'It was you,' Tsugi said, accusingly. 'All along, that monster with the metal skin... That was you?!'

'I got more famous on Uo than I care to mention,' Ren shrugged. 'Now stay behind me and don't get shot.'

'No argument from me!' Tsugi exclaimed, voice threaded with equal parts shock and relief. 'You boys don't know what you've gotten yourself into!'

'I hope you're paying attention, fellahs,' Ren growled, the featureless, convex orange faceplate of her helmet finally sliding down, obscuring her face. The filters in the hardsuit's audio systems cast her voice with a metallic, unnatural edge, like an echo across steel. It had taken Ren and Shichi a long time to "learn," this power armor, and they had wanted to make the most of it, 'Because class is in session. Today's lesson? How to survive a fight with Ren Syfte.'

'Disengage from your suit, or we will kill you!' The lead soldier spoke up again, definitely shaking a little more now. The situation had only gotten worse.

'Well, that leads onto the first rule pretty nicely,' Ren chuckled, the sound cold and artificial through the helmet's speakers. 'Rule one: Open fire!'

She shouted, as though it were a command. The mercenaries, however it had affected them, had certainly taken it as such, spraying automatic fire with practiced aim right at the armor-clad Half. She actually laughed, the soaring, joyous sound rendered utterly alien by her armor, even as it protected her from the swarm of bullets. They clanked and ricocheted, sparks flying as they impacted the living metal shell and, presented with an impenetrable barrier, scattered. Behind the conflagration, Kanaria huddled close to Tsugi, even though Ren had, in a stunning display of foresight, positioned herself in such a way as to avoid putting them in any danger from the storm of gunfire.

The whole act had only lasted a few seconds; these were professional soldiers, they had been trained to fire in short bursts to avoid recoil tampering with their accuracy. Despite that, this particular group, compelled by fear, or shock, or simply by the conviction that they could end this early before any harm came to them, had given Ren a few more moments than they would normally have, for good measure. Each of them displayed varying levels of visible shock at the complete lack of effect this had.

'Rule two,' Ren continued without missing a beat. 'If you're going to stop firing, make sure it's because you're out of bullets, because I will-' And here she rocketed forward, towards the nearest two soldiers. She took hold of their rifles, one in each hand, and before they could react had them aimed, one at the other. '-Take your guns, and use them against you,' Tendrils drew out from the plates of her gauntlets, insinuating themselves into the framework of the weapons, causing them to fire endlessly, filling their unfortunate wielders with their own ammunition. They went down, hard and bloody, followed by the stream of gunfire until two muted clicks indicated the ammo had run out.

Ren hefted the two rifles, one onto each shoulder, as the rest of the soldiers seemed to rally some confidence at the tiny clicks the weapons now made. Tsugi could practically feel Ren's grin, obscene and confident, through her helmet, 'Rule three: Don't assume that because my guns are out of ammo, they aren't dangerous.'

With this, she hefted one rifle high, hurling it with all her might at a man at the far end of the throng. He was hit, square in the chest, with the muzzle of the gun, going down with the sickening crack of bones yielding under the impact. The other rifle Ren swung wide, slamming the butt into the face of a soldier that had been unlucky enough to be in arm's reach, before that one flew too, slamming into another luckless uniformed man with the same bone-breaking force.

Now totally unarmed, Ren was apparently harmless enough for the rest of the mercenaries to regain their senses and open fire again, half rattling away at her while the others reloaded. The metal-shod Half shrugged off the assault like it was nothing.

'Rule four: Never assume I'm unarmed,' Laughter threaded through her voice like a backing track. It was clear that, despite her unabashed rage, Ren was truly enjoying this, a prospect that filled Tsugi with a kind of unnamable dread. After all, he knew who she had been; a government agent during a time where the government in question was on a war footing against its own populace, and brutal police action could erupt on the streets with very little provocation. Anti-government circles had dubbed her Emperor Sagara's attack dog, for how often she had been seen behind Uo's political leader, functioning as a bodyguard, of a sort.

Now, all the appellations that she had been given had been proven entirely appropriate, as she raised her arms, panels around her wrists opening up to reveal a cacophony of gunfire all their own, miniature ordinance blasting forth to level the playing field. Of course, her opponents didn't have the benefits of the kind of armor Ren herself had, and their paltry Kevlar and ceramic armor shattered and buckled under her retaliation. For a brief moment, Ren was silhouetted, clad in steel and sparks like some knight in battle, as she methodically shot down the majority of the soldiers, leaving only four in her wake. Eventually her own weapons seemed to run low on ammo, stalling with little, slightly wet clicks of their own. She held up her wrists, the plates clicking back into place and sealing the hardsuit.

'Rule five:' She said with finality, stepping forward to grab the leader- she had pointedly left him alive just for this- by the collar and lifting him effortlessly so his numbly terrified face was inches from her faceplate. Her metal edged voice rang in his ears like the echo of a blow to the head, 'You can't win a Ren fight. So run away.' She turned to regard the three enemies she had allowed to live with cold, unfeeling malice, 'Run for your lives.'

According to plan, they obliged, speeding away down the corridor and away from the futile fight in front of them. Ren nodded in satisfaction; these guys were trained, for sure, but in the end they were penny-ante toy soldiers. Their paychecks weren't worth staying and fighting something like her. Never worth fighting a monster, no matter the prize.

Ren's face was revealed as her helmet slid back, casting fresh air against her skin. Her free hand wandered her captive, deftly disarming him as she looked back without a care to the huddled Tsugi and Kanaria, 'You guys go on ahead, I think the corridor to the armory will be clear for now. They won't stick around with me here, they'll try and get some big boomstick to take me down. Don't worry, I'm prepared, but you guys should get armed yourself, and try to meet up with Sander and... well, anyone friendly. Why isn't Jericho helping us?'

'Marduk had a secondary set of programs designed to cripple Jerry,' Kanaria said tremulously. 'I think Marduk himself was only a distraction to pave the way for this.'

'So whoever is behind this wanted to be here in person...' Ren mused, before turning her gaze to her little sister. Tsugi was fine, he already knew the kind of person she was, but... She didn't want Kana seeing any more of this than she already had. That girl was innocent, and the last thing Ren wanted was to destroy her mental impression of her big sister, 'Now go. I'll be a little while with this guy.'

'But Ren-' Kanaria began.

'Kana, let's go,' Tsugi grabbed her hand, speaking in a low voice. 'Trust your sister, we'd better get out of here. Keep moving.'

'Y-yes... Okay,' She frowned, an undeniably adorable expression even in times of turmoil. Hesitantly, giving the soldier clasped firmly in Ren's gauntleted hands a wide berth, she laid a hand on her big sister's shoulder pad and leaned up on the tips of her toes, kissing her on the cheek, 'Thank you, Ren.'

Ren blinked, startled, her cheeks flushing red. Inside her head, Shichi's voice rang out, tittering in nervous amusement; at times, the odd little alien really did seem like a child. Ren found herself smiling helplessly, 'God damn, Kana-chan... How can you be so cute? Now go on, get out of here. I'll see you on the other side.'

She waited until her sister and friend were well out of the room before she turned her attention back to the soldier, who was struggling fruitlessly in her grip. Her expression took an intense, nasty edge, 'Now then. There are some things I'd very much like to know about all this bullshit, and I think you're the one I talk to if I want to find out.'

**********************

'Now then,' Dulcimer sent, the Dullahan's mental projection loud enough to completely fill the soldier's head. He pressed against the nearest wall as the headless alien advanced. Dulsie had been living among the more... normal species for so many years, she was entirely aware of the way the rest of the universe tended to view the Dullahan; shadowy, eternal beings, locked away on their homeworld and only leaving it when they needed something. Of course, the truth was far more mundane- there just weren't that many Dullahan left anymore- but no matter the species people would appreciate the more entertaining version of the world. It couldn't be helped.

But living alongside such fanciful organisms had taught her one thing: how to work what evolution had given her. The telepathy was a nice start; it tended to unsettle people when she started talking inside their head, especially when they learned she could "shout," which tended to push all other thoughts out of the mind. Not having a head, a recognizable face, was also a great advantage in the field of creeping other people out; it was amazing how much day to day interaction between these species depended on facial expressions and vocal speech. Take that away... it was like they lost a good chunk of the conversation. Dulsie herself? She had had to learn to understand facial expressions, in her early days travelling off of her homeworld.

What all of this meant was that Setton Dulcimer Heskelyn was very, very good at unnerving people. Case in point, the soldier in front of her, who looked to be about three seconds away from needing a change of trousers. It was important to note, or at least Dulcimer kept the thought close to her heart while she forced her way forward, that the Dullahan had not killed the squad this man had been with. No, they were just... sleeping, for a while. But to a panicked eye, it must have looked like they had just winked out, like lights in the dark. Which, really, suited Dulsie just fine.

But from what she had gleaned from these soldier's heads, they didn't quite deserve to be killed. Many of them were just here for the money, though some of the older ones were here for Sander. Evidently they were, all of them, Vesperians, and some of the older ones remembered the rule of Governor Hackett, and were still bitter about it. Revenge... There was something in humans that built the concept up into something so noble. The only reason she could tolerate it in Sander was that he was under no illusions of doing something good. He knew he was the villain in this, and set down the path anyway, through his own conscious choice.

A Dullahan could respect that.

But the man who had brought them here... Nobody knew what his goal was. Only that he was here for Sander, and that there was something entirely unwholesome about him; there was a common belief among the men that even being near him for any period of time would tarnish them somehow, like his presence was unhealthy. And she had heard his name mentioned in hushed whispers, from Sander and Mara. They knew...

**********************

It was only a strangled cry, but...

Even so, Sander cast his gaze nervously, obsessively, to his left and right, searching for any sign that they had been heard. It didn't seem that they had been, but Mara was still on point, glancing out into the hallway every few seconds to check for new patrols.

The mercenary that they had caught had struggled for a while, then stopped abruptly. A pistol under the chin tended to have that effect. Under normal circumstances Sander would not have even thought of trying to catch his enemies off guard like this; there were too many variables, any one of which could easily spin out of their favor and lead to their capture. Which, given the reception they had been given earlier, would lead quite seamlessly to their deaths. And that was to say nothing of those girls...

'Alright, now...' Sander growled, low in his throat, pressing the barrel of his gun firmly into the soldier's chin. He counted himself lucky he had gotten to a weapon's locker unimpeded; he didn't like killing, but everything felt so much safer when his enemies weren't the only ones with loaded weapons. 'I need information, and you're... You're... Oh...'

'Sander, what is it?' Mara hissed, looking over at her boyfriend's increasingly horrified expression, before pointing her own pistol at their hostage, face twisting angrily, 'What has he done?'

'I know you...' Sander's voice shook as he spoke. 'You were my fucking police chief!'

'Sander?' Mara hissed again, slightly more urgently.

'You're Vesperian,' Sander trembled. 'How many of you?'

'The entire group,' The soldier growled, hands balled into fists as his rifle lay useless where Sander had kicked it, several feet away. They had chosen one of the more disused storage rooms to set their trap- one filled with old, unassigned circuit boards and technological detritus- and it had been a good choice. Aside from this one luckless man, there had been very little traffic down this particular corridor; perhaps the mercenaries had decided to keep to the larger rooms and explore out from there. It wasn't as if they had a map of the place, or anything.

'This whole group?' Mara could tell, Sander was getting angrier with every word. 'Everyone here is out for revenge?'

The pistol dug dangerously deep into the man's chin as he spoke, 'We thought you were dead, Governor. Did you know the entire planet has a day off on the day you were deposed? We celebrate. But then it turns out you're still alive, and that just didn't sit right. Our boss, he knew who to go to if he wanted a posse put together to put you back in that grave. I for one jumped at the chance.'

He seemed altogether too defiant for someone whose life was held in the hands of a very angry, armed and dangerous Sander Hackett. Especially a Sander Hackett whose hands were shaking, and was clearly in emotional distress. His entire face twisted, as red rage descended like a fog.

When he next spoke, the words were deliberate, and snarled like he was only just able to hold himself in check, 'I left. You people nearly killed me, and I just left you. I left your world, let you think I was dead. I could have come back. I could have turned the entire might of the Hackett Corporation on you, I could have had an investigation conducted, to find out what really happened to the Vespers. I could have had you all killed. I could have cracked the entire planet open and melted it down and sold every atom of it, of your homes, of your families for scrap. I would be entirely within my rights to do that, even now. The fact that I have not is an act of mercy, and you repay me by hunting me, and the people I love, down, just to settle an old score? We're both old enough to know what really happened down there that day. The only difference is that I'm under no illusions that I do good work. You've sided with a monster, and you've let him loose in my house. I'm going to have to deal with that, now. So, what I'm going to do is this, since you and your kind have raised the stakes: I'm going to hunt every one of you who've come into my home down, and I'm going to kick you out of my home. Then, I'm going to kill your boss. After that, depending on how I feel, I might do that melting thing I mentioned earlier... Oh, look: you've made me angry. I really don't know what I'll do, now. But I want you to run, soldier. I want you to run for your fucking life, just so I can have the pleasure of hunting you down, and settling this score permanently. NOW RUN!'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 14



The soldier took the opportunity, leaving without his rifle and running at top speed down the corridor, as Mara watched from the doorway. When she raised her gun to shoot him down, Sander stopped her, hand on her wrist, 'That's not what we do.'

'Well, I thought the point of this was to get information from these assholes, Hackett!' Mara snapped, before softening. Sander's hands were still shaking, and she squeezed one tenderly. 'That's got you rattled, huh?'

'They know I'm still alive...' He breathed, staring off into the middle distance. 'I let them go, and they found me again...'

She took his chin in her hand, guiding him back to her, catching his gaze with her eyes, 'Of course, you're smart enough to know that guy's just going to go and get backup, right?'

At this, Sander seemed to snap back to attention, blinking heavily for a few moments. He took a deep breath, 'We won't be here when he gets back. We have to get to Amy, remember?'

He hefted the abandoned rifle up onto one shoulder, pocketing the smaller gun; it was always better to look more intimidating. Then, hand in hand with Mara, the two of them set off for the Cell Hub once again.

*******************

Christina eyed the door blankly, fingers tracing odd, abstract patterns on her calf. For the moment, she was stuck.

The cell had a nice view of the ocean, but that was hardly the point. She was trapped. Hemmed in, and that didn't sit right by her. Of course she had tried to escape, almost as soon as she had been left alone, in fact. Her attempts to open the door had taught her that A: locks had changed quite a bit in the intervening years since her native present, and B: Jericho could always see her. The A.I's cool voice had rebuffed her very quickly, as soon as it had become clear what she was trying to do. And he had sounded so infuriatingly calm when doing so.

Didn't he realize she was in distress, here?

Trying the window had proven equally fruitless; it was actually a holographic overlay on what had turned out to be a very solid wall. The way it had sparked and rippled when she touched it would have been extremely impressive, had she not been at the yelling, punching stage of frustration. The bed had taken the brunt of that.

Now, she had taken to sitting on the bed and... waiting. Her chance would come, it had to. On a long enough timeframe, any possibility became one hundred percent. And if she had learned one thing, staking out countless museums and opulent, ridiculously well protected homes, it was how to be patient. How to wait for that singular moment, that single shining chance in the dark.

It would come. Oh yes, it would.

Even so, despite her confidence she jumped as the door slid open and the pale, pink-haired alien entered. She was smiling as she advanced, which was a bad sign; Christina hadn't ever known an enemy to smile when they were on the back foot. Christine tried hard to stay still; there was no point in moving. Where would she even go?

And she had the nerves to back up this approach. So she didn't so much as flinch as the alien laid her palm on Christina's forehead with a light, airy giggle. She did flinch, however, when her world erupted into color, light and sound. It was only momentary, but it was enough to make her back away like she had been hit, with Lysithea following, ensuring that contact was never broken.

Christina shuddered as the alien stepped away, smiling gently, 'Thank you!' Without further explanation, conversation or even eye contact, the pink-haired alien stepped lightly out of the cell, allowing the door to close and lock behind her. Normally, this would have been the point where Christina would have allowed herself to relax, but...

Something was wrong. She felt different, somehow. More open. Exposed, deep down in her brain. It was unsettling.

Lysithea herself didn't have far to travel; she only went next door, sidling into Amy's adjacent cell. The redheaded captive was far more reactive than the noblewoman; at the first sign of activity from outside she straightened up, leaning back against the wall from her sitting position on the bed and keeping her eyes firmly planted on the incoming Trine-form.

'Hello, Amy!' Lysithea said, breezing into the room. 'I thought you'd been a tad neglected recently, and the two of us hadn't really had a chance to catch up, so since things are so quiet right now... I thought I'd visit.'

The alien smiled impishly, advancing on the bed with smooth, flowing movements, landing with a bounce on the linen. Amy backed away, a plan soon put to rest by the Trine-form's hand at the small of her back.

'Now, now. Sit still Amy dear,' Lysithea chided, placing two fingers on Amy's forehead. 'I'm just going to open up our psychic connection, and then we let the fun begin.'

The world shuddered with the chaotic light show Amy had begun to associate with becoming connected to Lysithea. She bucked, eyes heavy lidded, as the alien's awareness flooded into her mind, and she became vaguely aware of sensations coming from a different body.

'We are connected,' Lysithea sent. Amy jumped, still surprised by the process after all this time. In her own cell, Christina jumped to, swearing in a decidedly unladylike manner as the voice flooded her mind.

'What are you planning to do to me this time?' Amy deadpanned, eyeing Lysithea, remembering the last time the two had been alone; chained naked to a bed in an alien brothel, forced to cum so that her unwanted pleasure was transmitted across a psychic bridge to her captors. Of course, back then it was just Sander and Mara, but...

'Take off your clothes, and maybe I'll show you,' Lysithea winked, undoing the clasp at the top of her dress and letting the garment flow and fall, revealing small, pert breasts the color of fresh milk, completely devoid of nipples. Her fingers trailed her own curves for a moment, before moving to tug Amy's simple shirt down a ways, dragging it down over her skin. Her green eyes glowed with fey seduction, a very literally otherworldly allure. She sent, 'Or would you like me to command you instead?'

Amy shot Lysithea a poisonous glare, but she knew better than to resist. Especially here, when she knew the Trine-form had her finger hovering over Amy's orgasm button at every moment. Her fingers went to her pants, pulling them down before her shirt followed. Predictably, there was no underwear to be found anywhere in the cell. In a way, it was reassuring that Sander was committed to sending no mixed signals as to why she was here.

'You're still a very beautiful woman, Amy,' Lysithea said softly, drawing in closer. Her eyes trailed Amy's curves appreciatively, a single finger scraping up the line of her belly, 'Of course, you look so much better without all those nasty bruises you had before. Mara's a friend, but she acted foolishly, marring a work of art like yourself...'

The Trine-form narrowed her sparkling emerald eyes, pressing down hard on that little button located deep within Amy's skull. The redhead gasped sharply, shuddering as the sudden orgasm rocked her to her core. She almost fell off the bed, doubling over as pleasure burned through her and Lysithea wrapped her arms around the shorter woman, stroking her at the centers of her pleasure, displaying a familiarity with her body that allowed her to prolong and intensify the climax racing through her.

'Christina! Lady Christina de Souza, come in!' Lysithea sent, as Amy cried out in pleasure and, in turn, the noblewoman bucked on her bed, screaming through her own climax. 'Can you feel this?'

Christina lay, limp and panting, as the transmitted orgasm left her. In the moment, she had panicked, believing something to be drastically wrong with her... Which, in a way, she supposed it was. It certainly wasn't normal for her mind to be invaded by an alien.

What was worse, she was now desperately aroused. Whatever had just happened, it hadn't satisfied her in the way a normal orgasm would; it left her drained and breathing heavily, without delivering the physical satisfaction that would usually follow. Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth and resolved herself to endure; she wouldn't become a part of this game by getting herself off. That would be playing right into that interstellar bitch's hands.

In the next cell, Lysithea had taken advantage of Amy's temporary insensibility to slip a hand between her legs, long fingers probing at her moist core, 'Now, I could sit here and mindfuck you all day, dear Amy. I even think I'd derive a lot of entertainment from doing so. But it would be far more fun to do this the old fashioned way...'

Her eyes glowed, the connection sufficiently strong between them to transfer every ounce of sensation direct to the Trine-form's milky white body. The two groaned, practically in unison, as Lysithea's silken fingers slid into Amy's increasingly wet hole. Three at a time, an uncomfortable fit, the duality of pleasure and pain racing up and down Amy's shaking, naked form like an electric shock. And the connection... The feeling, the heat, doubling over on itself, wave upon wave hitting her, no mercy, no respite. Too much...

'Please!' Amy gasped, realizing full well that all of this was only a prelude to how bad it was going to get. She could hear the familiar sounds of a girl in the throes of pleasure through the wall. Christina! Of course, that must be the third end of the connection, the reason why she could feel every little twist and wriggle of Lysithea's fingers deep in her cunt like a white hot brand on her bones.

'Just let go, Amy,' The Trine-form's voice slid into her brain like melted butter, filling her up with a floating, insensible pleasure, a sense of being carried away on an inexorable tide, her desire to fight against it slipping with every passing second. Was this Lysithea's doing? Or was she... Did it really just feel that good? 'It'd feel so good, if you just let go. And you're sharing, too...'

In the next cell, Christina twisted and writhed, clothes stretched tight over her supple frame as her back arched and she cried out, thighs trembling from the second hand arousal. Her juices stained the bed, a slick, dark patch slowly growing on the blankets beneath her. Her toes curled, her fingers grasped uselessly at the bed, her entire being contracted in around the shivering ball of pure liquid heat in her cunt...

When she came again, it was exactly the same as the last time; a raging fire, bursting and contracting through her again and again, set to the soundtrack of what must be that Amy woman moaning and groaning in the next cell. The same damnable scream that escaped her throat as the sensation became too much and she was reduced to a shuddering, cumming puddle of arousal and sweat. The same sharp ache of lust, like a ball of needles in her stomach. She needed... She needed to cum, to really actually cum, but...

No! Never!

Yes! Please?

No, no, no!

She wouldn't! Wouldn't do it, no matter how desperately her aching body wanted her to. Wouldn't... Couldn't! Damn it, she was Lady Christina de Souza! Not some back alley whore! It didn't matter whether she had encountered this kind of strange, telepathic threesome was a part of her sphere of experience or not, she couldn't let it get to her like this! She was stronger than that!

As the next sensory assault, the next dizzying spell of inherited ecstasy hit her, she began to wonder whether that was true. She had to physically wrench her hand out from between her legs, moaning with desperate, frustrated passion at her act of self denial.

Remember, damn it, she thought. I'm a noblewoman.

... Right?

Amy whimpered, a long and reedy thing, as she came again, shaking and shuddering her way through a second orgasm, this one entirely more physical. Lysithea's skilled fingers curled within her, hitting her g-spot as she came, making her jerk hard in the alien's arms. Her juices coated Lysithea's palm, the Trine-form's small, pert breasts pressing against her like a soft weight.

She could feel it through the wall, in her mind. Her clit buzzed with it; Christina's vicarious, recycled pleasure swept back over its originator in a great shuddering wave. Her eyes almost rolled back into her head at the intensity of it all, she could practically feel the arch in the back of her fellow captive as the shriek of pleasure reached her from the other cell. It was becoming hard to keep enough air in her lungs just to moan.

'There now...' Lysithea sent, the telepathic message embracing Amy's mind, causing her to shudder through the final aftershocks of orgasm. The redhead's entire body was flooded with sensation and hormones, beaded with sweat, every nerve singing with pleasure both natural and shared, 'Isn't it nice to share? Christina is practically breaking herself in half, that's how strong you are cumming, Amy dear. And that's to say nothing of myself, who... Ooh!' The Trine-form shivered as another rivulet of ecstasy raced down Amy's spine.

Long pale fingers withdrew from her, glistening wetly in the light. They trailed up her body, right up her center, leaving a line of her own wetness dividing her in half. Amy whimpered as the fingers hit her chin; she knew what was required, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it.

'Open up now, sweetness,' The voice, soft and soothing and warm, filling up her mind, gumming up her thoughts like wet cement. The soft pads at Lysithea's fingertips pressed lightly against her lips, only momentarily before they parted, allowing the graceful digits entry into her mouth. She tasted herself, sweet and warm, an organic taste, heady on her tongue. Unbidden, the silken muscle wrapped itself along the alien appendages in her mouth, lapping up every last drop of her juices in an act of sheer, decadent eroticism, mind floating by on post-climactic wings, 'Just one more.'

'No... No, please,' Amy pleaded around the fingers in her mouth, words round and distorted as her tongue worked over the digits. Her wet, tearful eyes found the Trine-form's, she begged silently for an end. She couldn't do it again, knowing full well the alien could simply make her do it with a thought; in mere moments she could be screaming and thrashing, borne through the strongest orgasm of her life by the sounds of the girl in the next room sharing every agonized second of it.

'One more, Amy,' Her voice spun through the void of her mind, filling the insensate, shuddering place where though should be with itself. Amy trembled, shook her head with a helpless whimper, eyes pleading, reaching up to the emerald eyes above. In return, Lysithea merely narrowed her eyes, sending another climactic shudder spinning along their psychic connection.

Back in the other cell, Christina shrieked, eyes snapping open as another insubstantial mental orgasm pulled her from her limp panting, arching her back as every muscle in her body drew taut. Her flesh throbbed, brain swamped in hormones. She wanted it to stop... She wanted more.

Christina slumped forward, muscles aching from being drawn so tight for so long. The bed beneath her was damp from sweat and her juices, yet her body was still aflame with lust. She was barely even aware of Lysithea as the Trine-form, nonchalantly naked from the waist up, pulled the blinking, insensible brunette to her feet and practically dragged her across the way to the next cell. Christina was deposited onto the bed beside the shuddering, panting Amy, as the alien watched the two of them, satisfied.

'Now that we're all nice and loose,' The alien sent, voice expanding to fill the slaves' minds. 'We can move on. You girls look awfully nice together, by the way.'

Normally, this would have been the point where one or both of the girls would have responded with an acid quip of some kind. However, both were too busy screaming; Lysithea was holding them both in perpetual orgasm, watching them quiver, shake and thrash against each other, lungs bereft of air as their moans lapsed into silence. The Trine-form watched, her own toes curling through her shoes at the shared sensation, as the two girls came like demons.

Eventually, she allowed them to subside, trembling, in a heap on the bed. Both girls gasped for air as the aftershocks rocked through them, two dripping pussies on display. There was simply no energy in either of them for modesty. Christina's skirt had hiked up over her thighs, her shirt pulled lewdly low over her pert breasts, and she didn't even care. Couldn't care, with her body throbbing and making prurient demands of her. Even Amy was starting to look pretty good to her, right about now.

'You human women are so very appealing. Especially now,' Lysithea crooned in their minds. 'When you're like this, hot and shaking, blood pounding through you. All physical sensation and nothing else. I can feel it all, girls. Every last pulse of pleasure through you, I know how you're feeling. I know what you want...'

Lysithea leaned in, took Amy's face in her hands and tilted it, kissing the redhead, deeply. A thrill of heat went through the human woman, as the alien's voice threaded through her head, even as her tongue did the same to her mouth, 'And I aim to give it to you. But you will have to earn it, girls. Sit up.'

Still wracked by the occasional shiver, both girls did as they were told. It wouldn't do to disobey, especially now; there was simply no room for them to weasel out of this. Christina eyed her fellow slave cautiously, mind still full of the other girl's orgasm. It felt as though she had had something intensely intimate and private foisted upon her, being forced to experience the pale woman's pleasure. More than that, Christina had felt everything, the shame, the guilt at succumbing so easily to the coercive talents of the Trine-form, but more than that... the tiny part of her that had reveled in it. The ceaseless spinning cog in the machine of her mind that screamed yes even as the rest of her whimpered no.

Amy Pond... Definitely one that bore further study.

'Girls, pay attention,' Christina felt herself sit up straighter as the voice raced through her head. Beside her, Amy was doing the same thing. Something in the brisk tone of the alien's voice, broadcast from within their skulls, made it very hard to disobey. 'Now, I'm in your brains, I know precisely what you're feeling. So there's simply no use in denying it to me, you both are practically salivating staring at me when I'm naked. You want to cum, properly cum, and you don't care how. That's fine, I can help you with that.'

Amy blushed bright red, looking over to confirm that, yes, Christina's eyes had unconsciously gone to Lysithea's- admittedly fascinating- breasts. The alien had a lovely, curving form of the sort very few earth women could maintain. It seemed almost frustratingly effortless, which only added to her unearthly charm.

... Which was around the point that Amy caught herself, a part of her gently reminding her otherwise lust filled self that she was, in fact, straight. It was the collar, the telepathy, the forced orgasms... anything else, it wasn't her.

'Now then, children, shall we get started? You two need to get nice and close. In fact, I'd like to see you kiss, girls.'

Amy turned to Christina, eyes wide and helpless; she hoped she was adequately masking the lust burning within her. The brunette seemed to be having the same thoughts as she herself was; the Command Collars made any kind of disobedience completely moot, and besides which... Wouldn't just getting it over with...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 14



... Feel good?

At least the noblewoman had the good grace to raise her eyebrows helplessly as she leaned in, soft lips pressing against Amy's, deeply and possessing startling heat. The force of Christina's sudden contact pushed Amy a ways backwards, with a surprised little squeak, suffocated by the pressure of the other woman's lips on hers. Two soft forms melted against one another, as Amy found herself swept away in the heat of the moment, opening her mouth and surrendering to Christina's tongue.

'Yes, that's about as appealing as I'd imagined,' Lysithea nodded sagely, letting her private thoughts travel across the telepathic bridge without a care for who else might receive them. 'You two go rather well together, in fact. Now, take it further...'

Two deep breaths as Amy and Christina pulled apart, the former blinking in a daze as the latter frowned lividly at Lysithea, 'Actually, I don't think either one of us will be playing along with this ridiculous masturbatory fantasy you have going on, spacegirl! Right, Amy?'

Amy blinked, surprised at the odd way the ersatz noblewoman had spoken to her; with blue eyes narrowed and voice steel edged, as though she was a little angry at Amy for playing along with this little makeout session. For her part, Amy's heart was pounding, body hot and fevered and making demands all on its own. She knew that fighting back was ultimately a futile endeavor, as the Command Collars around their necks made resistance entirely pointless. Frankly, Amy didn't really feel like having control of her body taken from her by the Collar's dampening field again; it was such an unpleasant sensation that even the thought of it sent a shiver through her, but...

She nodded in agreement, regardless. Moments later, Lysithea's thoughts slammed into her mind, 'I can see into your heads, girls. I know you both want to cum, and if I weren't here there's a strong possibility you'd be taking care of that yourselves. Similarly, being in your head allows me to completely block your natural orgasmic responses until I allow you to cum. So, I can either keep pushing you, or you can show a bit of respect, and we can continue, yes?'

'Alright, yes...' Amy sighed. The fight was gone from her; Sander, Mara and Ren were bad enough, but Lysithea's ability to influence her mind was truly frightening, and she didn't want to see how far that ability could be pushed. Forcing her to mind-cum was one thing, but Amy had absolutely no idea what else the Trine-form could do if she wanted to.

'Amy!' Christina gasped, eyeing the redhead in disbelief. Admittedly, she hadn't known the Scottish girl for very long, and in fact they had only met twice now, but the ease with which she acquiesced was actually very disturbing. She had no idea what had happened to Amy, or the extent to which she had been abused by this crew of kidnappers, but frankly Christina was offended by this sudden surrender.

'There's no point, Christina...' Amy said softly, eyes staring blindly into her bare lap. 'She'll just keep toying with us until we give in, and if we fight it she'll probably make us beg or something...'

'Yes, that's about right,' Lysithea smiled as her silent message echoed through the two slaves' minds. 'And hey, call me Mistress. I have always wanted to hear how that would sound. Sander certainly seems to like the honorifics, after all.'

'Yes, Mistress,' Amy's eyes flickered with quickly quashed pride, and her cheeks filled out into an irritated blush, but she knelt on the bed with a downcast expression. No point fighting...

'Oh, I rather like that!' Lysithea sent, mental projection bright and sunny. Her eyes slid to Christina with a harder look, 'Christina?'

For a moment it truly looked as though the former noble was going to snap back at her alien captor. Her lip curled, eyes burning with righteous fury... and then it seemed to hit her. She looked down, saw the glistening wetness between her own legs, then the defeated redhead kneeling beside her. Her fingers went up to trace her Collar, before finally, grinding out from between clenched teeth, 'Yes, Mistress.'

'Wow, that really is a lot of fun,' Lysithea sent, before dropping the rest of her dress from her body in an almost careless manner. The Trine-form was composed of elegant, curving lines, with strange, sweeping patterns of salmon pink skin pigment, the same color as her hair, trailing along her hips and waist. She didn't even notice the human girls' stares, sending to them, 'Now, shall we move on?'

She leaned down, body flowing like liquid, to dip a hand into the pocket of her billowing dress, retrieving a silver can of whipped cream and bringing it into the light, 'Imagine what we could do with this.'

'I think we both know... Mistress,' Christina deadpanned, glaring venomously. 'Although I have to admit that it's a tad... conventional, for one of your ilk.'

Lysithea glanced at the polished canister in her hand, giving Christina a pouty frown, 'What do you mean? Back when I was young, just starting out at this stage in my life cycle, this was very, very pleasant.'

With a gentle pressure on each girl's shoulder, she pushed them apart and perched herself lightly between them, glancing wryly first at one, then the other. There was such a dramatic contrast between the Trine-form and the human women; where Amy and Christina blushed and felt shame at their nudity, Lysithea possessed a breezy, elegant confidence in her own naked form, and it showed in the way she held herself. She leaned back on her hands, the peaks and valleys of her body prominently on display in such a carefree manner... The alien was worlds apart.

With an oddly charming, pouty languor, Lysithea raised the small can and pressed down on the nozzle, spraying a stream of whipped cream down one side of her collarbone and across her breast, closest to Christina. Her green eyes turned to the brunette, 'Lick it off.'

Sick of this game, growling a little in the back of her throat, Christina leaned in, tongue extended to scoop the sweet tasting stuff off of the alien. She had just enough time to discover that the Trine-form's skin was not smooth, like it seemed, but vaguely rough, almost like a shark's, before her mind was filled with... something else.

In many ways, it was the same kind of telepathic projection as usual, just so much more vivid. Christina got the vague sense that Lysithea and Amy were both moaning above her, and on and off she could feel the same shivering, powerfully hot pleasure the Trine-form herself was experiencing, transmitted across the psychic bridge, but it was overpowered by memory.

Yes, it must have been a memory; she was experiencing a moment of Lysithea's past. It was jarring in its suddenness; a rapid out of body experience that left her dizzy and breathless. It was only a flash; a young man, another Trine-form with green hair, licking at Lysithea's breast precisely as Christina herself was, literally the same motion, cream and all, but with it came a cascade of emotion and sensation, vibrating through her bones.

She felt a sense of decadence and experimentation, as though this was something far from Lysithea's sphere of experience, but was just so deliciously pleasurable that recriminations for it could wait. More than that, Christina felt an odd sense of physical disconnection, a strange stiltedness to the Trine-form's limbs... a number of internal references to her body being new, to metamorphosis.

Christina pulled away with a sudden gasp at the flood of thought and sensation. She found that she was shivering, such was the strength of the vision. Lysithea tilted her head to one side, eyeing her intently, 'Oh, did I just transmit that? Didn't mean to, but I suppose I was asking for it. That must have been quite a shock, Christina. No use wasting a good thing, though. Amy, your turn.'

Again the sound of releasing pressure as Lysithea's skin was coated in a layer of cream, topped off by a tiny smile and expectant look from the alien. Amy couldn't help a little frown as she leaned in, but her eyes widened dramatically the moment she made contact, as the memory assaulted her too, stronger than before. Amy's link with Lysithea had had time to deepen and grow, and when the memory burst through the bridge and into her, it was almost tactile.

She shuddered, literally feeling the young, unnamed man's tongue on her skin, raking up along new nerves. Heard the moan bubble up in the younger Lysithea's throat, experienced the shock at just how good it felt. There was a distinct feeling of newness, and an indication that, however human she looked now, Lysithea hadn't always...

Amy pulled away, gasping. It was too much; a volatile, oppressive vision that made thinking about anything else a challenge. It faded quickly, and soon after Amy had returned to a state of equilibrium... Of course, right now, equilibrium was a throbbing ball of unwanted desire, transmitted and redoubled across the connection between the three of them. Usually she subsided faster than this, so it was no doubt Lysithea's fault she was still so hot.

... And then a sudden, deeper flash; a memory unbidden, but blasting through Amy's mind like dynamite. Lysithea's perspective, so strong... Sex, actual, real, physical sex. The green haired alien between her legs, driving in and out of her new pussy. New, not like she was a virgin, but like she hadn't had one before now. Lysithea's screams of pleasure echoed through Amy's mind, unburdened by the passage of time. And-

Something else; a connection with the man in the memory. A facsimile of a facsimile, but she could feel it, this remembered psychic link, so much stronger than her own. Two minds together... No.

No, all minds together. The entire species bound up together in the most beautiful, cacophonous Song. Amy was deaf to anything else, the Chorus filled her mind. Only a memory, only a memory. So strong!

'Okay, this isn't working out...' Lysithea frowned, severing the link as quickly as she could, and Amy began really feeling how strange it was to see the alien speak and emote without moving her mouth. 'I'm sending out a little more than I want to, so we'll move on. Damn, that was fun, though...'

Smoothly, Lysithea moved, pressing Amy down onto the bed by her shoulders before slithering down her body, white skin rubbing against pale pink. The redhead's eyes closed as she felt her legs being drawn apart, and Lysithea settling herself on her knees between them. She knew where this was going...

'Oh my, Amy!' Lysithea giggled softly, and Amy shuddered as she felt hot breath against her pussy. 'You're on a hair trigger, dear! Don't try to deny it Amy, your body is an open book to me.'

She had said that last part in response to Amy's suddenly raised head and defensive glare. When that glare came up against Lysithea's amused grin, it wasn't long before it gave up, and Amy herself slumped back, head hitting the bed as her eyes closed again, 'Yes, fine, whatever. That's not exactly my fault, you know.'

'Oh, I hardly think that matters, Amy dear,' Lysithea purred, drawing her pouting lips along the line of Amy's cunt, drawing a conspicuous shiver from the human girl. Her green eyes slid to Christina, similarly feverish and panting from the shared sensation, 'Christina, you're going to watch. And if you want to get off, you're going to have to do it yourself. In fact, I insist. Let's make it a race! You're both right on the edge, let's see who can cum first, hmm?'

'And what if I refuse?' Christina snapped, though she didn't exactly sound sure of herself. Whatever control the Trine-form could exert over the ebb and flow of sensation between the three of them, she was exerting it masterfully; keeping the two slaves on edge, flustered and throbbing, with no sense of release in sight. Christina could feel her toes curling and uncurling in the bed sheets, as Lysithea's soft lips ran intangible lines up her pussy, in response to what was happening to Amy.

'Oh, you definitely don't want to lose,' The alien's voice was still sweet and cajoling, which actually made the implied threat so much worse. Speaking frankly, neither girl really knew what Lysithea was capable of, and crossing her seemed to be a truly terrible risk. The girl was an alien, there was no telling what she might do...

'And, go!' Lysithea giggled, drawing her mouth down onto Amy's dripping cunt a mere moment later. First Amy cried out, as that warm, rough tongue penetrated her, then Christina cried out shortly thereafter, as the sensation was strung along to her, frustratingly real, yet completely physically insubstantial. It made her shudder, but there was no way she was cumming just from that.

She sighed theatrically as she acquiesced, long fingers rubbing against her outer lips as her cheeks flushed red. Exhibitionism wasn't exactly her thing, in fact being exposed like this was utterly mortifying to her, but she didn't want to risk that awful Command Collar again, nor whatever punishment the alien could think up. She had learned long ago to bide her time, and so she played along, fingering herself in increasingly frantic rhythms as she got lost in proper, physical pleasure.

And she watched, she had to, as Amy squirmed and writhed on the bed, little breathless whimpers escaping her lips as the Trine-form's tongue slathered her pussy. Lysithea seemed to draw a great deal of pleasure from going down on the redhead; in fact, Christina supposed that must be quite literally true, as each flick of her tongue against Amy's clit caused her own legs to squeeze together as a shudder ran through her milky white flesh.

Of course, Christina was a part of that too. Every lick, every nip of the teeth or rubbing motion of the lips was transferred to her, even as two of her own fingers slid deeply inside her as a third massaged her clit. It was best, had to be better, just to win this ridiculous race, to have her orgasm and to finally be able to think straight again.

But what Lysithea had said about hair triggers had been all too true, and Amy's face flushed red hot as she came, filling the alien's mouth with her juices as she bucked powerfully against the bed, trying unsuccessfully to hold in her moans. Christina's eyes widened as the cumming girl looked to her for... what, exactly? For reassurance? Moral support? What?

As it stood, the brunette could only stare into those eyes, watching as her fellow captive lost herself in her orgasm, in that wonderful release and every moment of it showed up in her tearful brown eyes. It... It...

Oh god...

'No...' Christina whimpered to herself as the sight before her, and the raw, burning heat coursing through her, tipped her over the edge into her own orgasm, blue eyes locked on Amy's as she came. As they both came.

And the sensation, the pulsing stormfront of pleasure, was passed through Lysithea, from Amy to Christina and back again, like a devastating tide. Rational thought left them, they slumped back, limp and twitching, skin glistening in a sheen of sweat, breasts jiggling as their breath came in short, juddering bursts. Christina's eyes rolled back as below her, Lysithea simply wouldn't give up her assault on Amy's red, glistening cunt, prolonging her orgasm as the pitch on her screams went higher and higher, before the Scot simply ran out of breath and started up a helpless, wheezing moan in the back of her throat.

The Trine-form herself was shuddering like a madwoman, experiencing every moment of dual-orgasmic sensation as if it were her own. She could make her little toys experience each other's pleasure, but neither of them was getting a double orgasm, like she was. She snickered a little, into Amy's pussy, before she pulled away, panting just as hard as her exhausted pets.

'Oh wow...' She breathed, pert, milky breasts rising and falling with her deep breaths, as she tried to center herself. 'Just... Just wow...'

'I am...' Christina began shakily, glaring at her captor through hazy, tear filled eyes. 'I am going to... to kill you, you know... Oh, hell...'

'No more...' Amy sighed, lacking the energy to so much as move.

'Trust me, I don't think I could-' Lysithea stopped suddenly, eyes going to the door. 'Hey, wait-'

It was at that moment, when the only occupants of the room were exhausted, butt naked and unarmed, that the door burst inwards, and suddenly the room was filled with far too many guns.

*****************

'What did you mean?'

Kanaria's soft eyes caught Tsugi's, her hand tightened its grip on his, and momentarily, the androgynous youth slowed his pace.

'What do you mean?' His brow furrowed. 'And... keep moving, okay?'

Kanaria stepped into line as Tsugi kept moving, but she persisted, 'Earlier, you called my sister a monster with metal skin. So, you definitely know her from somewhere.'

'Oh, that...' Tsugi very pointedly kept walking, staring straight ahead. Given the choice, he would prefer not to be the one to explain this to Kana; aside from the fact that Ren scared the crap out of him, he really didn't want to disturb her worldview too much, especially not in a time of crisis like this. With soldiers crawling all over the place for god knows what reason, it wouldn't do to be answering too many questions.

Besides, the girl really looked up to her sisters, it was so clear.

'Tsugi, tell me,' Oh no, not that voice. Not her stern voice. It was like getting told off by a teddy bear, 'I feel like I need to know. Especially after what we just saw. If you know something, you should tell me.'

'Okay, fine, whatever,' He relented, peering around a corner and finding it clear. As they proceeded down it, she spoke, clearly uncomfortable, 'How much do you know? About your sister?'

'Not a lot,' Kanaria smiled helplessly. 'She says she worked in the military somewhere, which to me means she was a soldier. I'm not blind, I know what Ren's like. Guaranteed she was fighting, that's just logical. But the way you talked about it, I get the feeling it's a more interesting story than that.'

'Well, yeah...' Tsugi said. 'We're getting close to the east side exterior door, I wonder whether we'll be better off out on the beach.'

'Don't change the subject. And yes we would, assuming there's no soldiers out there.'

'Oh, you're a sharp one, you,' Tsugi deadpanned, before continuing, as they chewed up distance as fast as they dared. 'You know I grew up on Uo, right? And about the civil war? Good, that makes things easier. See, there was this... creature, that would show up on the battlefields, nobody knew what it was. Looked like a robot, but it couldn't be, right, because it didn't move right, and it was shrugging off the kind of damage that'd murder a robot. Occasionally the news-nets would get a hold of some footage of it, y'know, taking a ten foot vertical leap from a standing start, or taking a missile to the face without slowing down, and boy did that get speculation flowing... But nobody ever had a definitive answer, and despite the fact that it would only attack the rebels, the government wouldn't tell the public anything.'

'... And that was Ren,' Kanaria said quietly, looking at her feet.

'Seems like it,' Tsugi frowned. Damn, this was precisely the outcome he had been trying to avoid. Girl looked crestfallen. Then again, it had been a long day... 'Sorry.'

'Not your fault, Tsugi,' Kanaria sighed, palming the scanner by the door. Just a few feet more, and they'd be outside, 'I mean, I did ask you to- oh!'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 14



'Hel-lo!' The figure blocking the doorway drawled, each syllable lengthened unnaturally. He grinned widely, an expression that chilled Kanaria to the bone; no matter how wide he smiled, his eyes remained cold, deep and abyssal. A dead man's gaze, coupled to a living one's rictus grin. It was the kind of smile that let you see every last tooth, the kind that almost broke the jaw with the force of it. 'I've been-'

Tsugi grabbed Kana's shoulder and spun her around, shoving her in the opposite direction with more strength than she knew he possessed. She had seen the briefest glimpse of utter, horrified recognition on his face, and the words, 'Kana, run!' break from his throat in desperate tones. And then, the dull thud of something sharply connecting with a skull.

'How boring, he recognized me...' The blond stranger ran the hilt of his knife along his forehead, collecting the errant strand of hair that had fallen out of place when he had hit Tsugi, returning to composure in the time it took for the androgynous youth to slump to the floor. 'Don't run, Kana. There'd be no point, and besides...'

'I've been wanting to see you for a long time.'

*****************

'Oh, god!' Ren roared, halfway through the execution of a flawless spinning kick that sent the nearest soldier buckling under the weight of several hundred kilos of biomechanical body armor. 'I'd forgotten how good this feels!'

The rest of the squad continued to fire upon her, but she shrugged off the bullets as though they were gnats. The tide was changing, slowly but surely, as the Guardian, Emperor Sagara's attack dog, went from room to room, effortlessly repelling the invaders as brutally as she knew how. Ren was a combat pragmatist; she knew the key here wasn't merely to kick these fools from her home, it was to beat them down so brutally, and so permanently that they didn't dare stay and longer than it took to run screaming. And she needed to ensure they'd be too frightened, damaged or, ideally, both to ever think about returning.

Besides, the longer they stuck around, the greater the chance that one of them she hadn't gotten to yet found one of her friends and hurt them. She wouldn't allow that.

'Better than sex, I swear!' She growled, voice echoing horribly from her helmet's speakers. She kept advancing, slowly but steadily, as it became increasingly clear that, whatever these mercenaries had been paid, they no longer thought it was enough, for the odds they had been given. They started to run.

'That's right, run away, you fucking lightweights!' Ren bellowed, sounding like the devil herself. 'You're staying the night in Hell's Hotel, and the Big, Bad, motherfucking Wolf is here to eat you up!'

[Ren, you're so frightening!]

Shichi's voice crowed in her head, making her laugh. Internally, she ran through her map of the compound, quickly reaching the conclusion that the path these walking targets were running down would very quickly take them to the Cell Hub, and by extension Amy and Christina. It was bad enough that she didn't know where her sisters or her friends were... if the girls were hurt under her watch, she'd never hear the end of it from Sander.

Lucky she knew just how strong those cell walls were...

'Shichi, change ammunition,' She breathed to her helmet microphone.

[Operator command acknowledged. What caliber?]

'Remote frag rounds, I think. And pull up my P-in-P HUD, would you?'

[Command acknowledged. Executing!]

There were a series of muted clicks from her gauntlets as barrels shifted and changed, and then Ren raised her arms, ready to fire. A separate, tiny window appeared in the corner of her eye, effectively her "bullet-cam."

'Tick tock goes the clock, motherfuckers,' Ren grinned, opening fire. Four rounds left the guns inset in her forearms, spinning down the center of the corridor and out into the open space, before Ren cried out, 'Boom for the boom god!'

Each round in turn exploded, sending red hot shrapnel careening off in every direction, embedding itself into every soldier. Ren did love a three-hundred sixty degree range of fire. Very soon, the Cell Hub was filled with corpses. Or, at least... softly groaning, bleeding soon-to-be corpses. Ren picked up her pace, heading into the Hub as the last soldier fell, chuckling to herself.

'Too easy!' She grinned, clapping her metal shod hands together. Her jubilation quickly faded as the door to one of the cells slammed open.

'Freeze, bitch!' One final soldier exited Amy's cell, gun in hand. 'Or I blow her head off.'

Ren actually froze, blinking as she took in the scene. There was Amy, naked as the day she was born, wide eyed and terrified as the unnamed soldier held one arm wrapped around her throat, muzzle of his pistol pressed firmly against the side of her head. Inside the cell, she could see Christina and Lysithea, similarly undressed and cowering in one corner.

Ren had no idea why a single soldier had been alone in a room with three naked women, but the prominent bulge in his pants gave a somewhat clinching hint, and she found her eyes narrowing hatefully despite the fact that he couldn't possibly see it through her visor. She had been afraid something like this might happen...

'Take of that helmet, half breed!' The soldier shouted. 'Let's get a good look at you, see if you're good enough to join us in here, huh?'

Ren's frown only deepened, as she added stupid to this asshole's list of sins. Even though he was going to die very soon, she found herself unable to laugh. 'Shichi, what are my energy reserves looking like?' She said privately to her inner passenger.

[Sixty-three percent, Ren. Shall I charge the optical aperture?]

'Go for it.'

[Executing!]

Out loud, she yelled, 'Amy, baby, I want you to stand as still as you can. Hey, fuckwit!'

The soldier blinked, resettling the barrel of his gun against the trembling Amy's forehead, who for her part nodded slightly, aware that Ren was not using nicknames anymore. She meant business, which fortunately the soldier didn't pick up on, 'I said remove your helmet, Half!'

'My name's not Half, fucker,' Ren growled, maintaining eye contact through her helmet as a tiny readout in the corner of her vision counted up to one-hundred percent. 'And it's not bitch, or half breed either.'

[Weapon charged!]

'My name is Ren Andrei Syfte!' She bellowed. 'And you will fear my LASERFACE!'

'Oh, son of a bi-' Was all the soldier could get out, as a tiny pinprick of red light swelled in the center of the hardsuit's faceplate, growing into an almighty crimson glow before blasting out in a solid beam, like the wrath of god. It continued forward, the scorching heat of it radiating over Amy's bare shoulder as it slammed into the soldier behind her with pinpoint accuracy. And a sizzling noise.

It left a deep imprint into the wall behind him, scorched black.

What was left of the soldier fell to the floor, cauterized to the point where it didn't even bleed. Then Ren opened up her helmet, visor sliding back into the neck of her armor to allow fresh air onto her face for the first time. She sighed, shoulders unknotting; her hardsuit was an amazing bit of tech, but it got really hot, really fast.

'Ren?!'

The Half turned, armor whirring mechanically, 'Oh! Hi, San-chan!'

'Ren, what the fuck?' Mara squealed, running up to her sister. 'When did you become Iron Man?'

'Wow can explanations ever come later!' Ren rolled her eyes, stepping over the crispy corpse and into the cell. 'Ly-chi, Christina, we all okay?'

'Yes, we're fine,' Lysithea stood, causing Sander's decidedly male gaze to focus on certain areas in quick succession, before he aimed his eyes at the farthest wall and kept them glued there, sensing that it was only a matter of time before his girlfriend noticed. 'He wasn't in here for very long.'

'Well, that's a relief,' Sander turned his gaze to Amy, expression softening as he saw her frantically trying to wipe a mix of blood and ash from her neck. He leaned in to whisper to her, 'Hey, you okay?'

'No...' Amy breathed, staring at her blood soaked palm. 'No I'm damn well not.'

'Well shit, Amy... If it were up to me we wouldn't be under attack either,' Sander frowned, standing. 'Ly, can you stay here with the girls and try to get in contact with Dulsie? We haven't seen her and we'd sort of like her around, yeah?'  

'Certainly, Sander.'

'...And... Put on some clothes, okay?' Sander actually blushed. For whatever reason Amy was fine, Christina was A-okay, but seeing Lysithea naked was somehow wrong. She was a friend, and this was way too close.

'Oh, I dunno, I'm kind of enjoying it...' Ren gave a cocky grin. Her eyes trailed Lysithea's body conspicuously.

'I'll get dressed, Sander,' Lysithea raised an eyebrow at Ren as she spoke.

'And Ren... I don't know what exactly is up with you, here,' Sander eyed her. 'But can you clear these assholes out of here? Mara and I will circle around to the exterior doors and try to get outside. I figure that's where Kana and Tsugi would go, since they're not fighting people.'

'And you are?' Ren deadpanned. Sander noted she was bouncing on the soles of her feet, as though her movements were only being restricted through intense concentration.

'I get what you're saying, but we did get guns,' Sander hefted his rifle onto his shoulder demonstratively. 'Kana and Tsugi? Not the same. They're technicians. And they'll head outside, so we will too. We need to know where everyone is, is what I'm saying.'

'Right, right,' Ren nodded. 'Well, give me a little while and I'll make sure these fools will bother us not, no problem. But... the only exterior doors near here are the ones leading to-' She paused, saw Sander's strangled expression. She finished soberly, 'Leading to that place you told us never to go.'

'I know. And I'll just have to deal with that. This is no time for sentimentality, so let's get to work,' Sander said.

'Right. And for god's sake, stay safe and don't get caught,' Mara frowned. 'We don't need to be giving these guys any more hostages. If it wasn't for Ren, this situation would have turned out pretty fucking bad.'

'Straight up,' Ren nodded, turning. Her helmet fell back down over her face, 'Well, I'm off to kick some ass until it shatters. Later, folks.'

'When she's right, she's right,' Sander shrugged, gripping his rifle tightly. 'Let's move.'

***************

Tsugi awoke hazily, clutching at his throbbing head where he had been hit. His vision cleared slowly, as he took inventory of his physical being: Head? Hurting. Arms? All present and accounted for. Legs? Laying in something warm.

... Wait, what?

He rubbed at his eyes to clear them, swearing under his breath the entire time, his curses increasing in volume and vitriol as he floated back into full consciousness. That fucking, psychopathic bastard... And here Tsugi had thought he'd never have to see that son of a bitch who'd hit him after Uo. And...

Oh shit, Kana!

Tsugi's curses fell away completely as he finally caught sight of what was in front of him. He made a tiny, horrified noise in the back of his throat.

*******************

'What are you going to do, Sander?' Mara asked quietly as the two of them travelled as stealthily as possible down the corridors to their objective. 'I mean, the only way out is through where you left her, isn't it?'

'Yes, it is,' Sander said, trying hard to keep any inflection from his voice. Damn it, don't fall apart now...

'I'm sorry it had to come to this. I know you didn't want anyone else visiting her except you.'

'Not your fault,' His eyes prickled dangerously at the mere thought of what was ahead. Even after so long, he got so weak at certain thoughts, it was pathetic. 'It's nobody's fault except the fucker who started all this.'

'I know. And I really thought I'd be rid of him after what we did to him last time. I mean, the guy never was one for petty revenge crap like this, he was always so-' Mara's eyes widened as she caught sight of the scene by the door, so close to their goal. Her heart almost stopped in her chest, and she shrieked, 'Kanaria!'

She flew ahead, any notions of stealth instantly forgotten and replaced with a clawing fear and grief that made everything else pale in comparison to what lay ahead. She reached them first, with Sander in close pursuit, the older man swearing out loud, unthinking, undirected outbursts of emotion.

'Y-you have to help her...' Ashen faced, Tsugi's voice barely rose above a whisper as his wide, unseeing eyes went first to Sander, then Mara. 'She's gonna die...'

In his trembling arms, Kanaria was limp and unresponsive, her shirt and the floor beneath her stained crimson. One of Tsugi's hands was pressing a cloth down against her neck, from which fresh gouts of blood could be seen seeping out onto the floor in time with what seemed to be a weak heartbeat, at best.

'Fuck...' Sander's hands shook, the rifle clattering forgotten to the ground. 'Fuck...'

'He... He had a knife, and he-' Tsugi stopped, apparently incapable of saying more. Not that he really needed to; the way Mara clasped her sister to her, tears welling in her eyes, showed that she understood completely.

'Well, it's about time!' Suddenly, the speaker system crackled to life, a horrifically familiar voice threading over the compound's speaker's to send a chill down Mara's spine. 'I was beginning to think you wouldn't get here while the little gift I left you was still alive, Sander. This door is wired for sound, so tell me, do you like her? Isn't she beautiful, like that?'

'You,' Sander snarled, fists clenching as his guilty, red rage found a target. 'I'm going to kill you, you-'

'Oh, shut up, Sander. I've waited such a long time to hear your voice again, the least you could do for me is say the right words,' The voice was oddly stilted, as though it couldn't quite match the emotional inflection to the words he was saying. 'After all, I love you so.'

Sander blinked. Honestly? That wasn't what he had been expecting.

'Now, first question: where am I? That should be entirely obvious. I'm through the door in front of you, and I'm leaning against a rather nice headstone, Sander my dear,' Sander could feel the ugly smile in the words. 'Second question: what do I want? Easy, I want you, Sander. By now you have to know who I am, and what I really want right now is to hear you say my name...'

Sander's entire body wound tight as a spring, face twisting as his eyes went from Kana's body, slowly bleeding out, to the panicked faces of his friend and girlfriend. His mouth opened, almost automatically:

'Walker.'

******************

Ren had stopped, too. Frozen in place as the intruder's message played out over the entire building at once. The message itself was drowned out, after the first few sentences, by the sound of metal screeching against metal as her gauntleted fingertips ground against armored palms. She literally shook, quivering with the kind of apocalyptic fury that only Ren could muster.

Him him him him him him him HIM!

Her face was obscured by her visor, but it was warped into such an expression of pure, animal hate, that it could almost bore through the armored helmet through sheer force of will. It was lucky she was alone; the mess her violent outburst could have produced would have been impossible to clean up. She said one word, spoken in a growl, the kind that tiger's give just before delivering the killing blow:

'Walker!'

Inside her head, Ren was just barely cognizant of Shichi speaking, as her organic armor shifted around her:

[Operator mental state reaching level Alpha. Pattern confirmed. Releasing limiters, approved for Inverse Mode. Initiating Berserker Burn.]

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 15



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello again! Gotta tell you, readers: I am glad to be done with this chapter! After this one, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming; slightly shorter chapters with more focus on the canon characters. In fact, join us next time, when I unveil a couple more additions to the canon crew that I think you'll enjoy. In unrelated news, this chapter should be released at or around the one year anniversary of Amy, Captured! Yay!

Thanks go to Isabel, Allyourbase and LogicalDreamer, as is usual. Those are some awesome people, right there. Votes, comments and feedback is entirely appreciated. Enjoy!

*******************

'Where's Mara?'

'Taking Kana to the medical lab with Tsugi,' Sander growled, his voice slow and halting, filled with rage. Walker got the feeling that it was a great effort for him not to leap the gap between them and throttle him with his bare hands. This delighted him.

'If she dies, so do you. But you suffer first,' Though the space between them was quite large, Sander's attention was so focused on the grinning man before him, they might as well have been the only two people on the moon. His grip on the handle of the rifle tightened, and he couldn't handle being in his own head anymore. Ever since discovering Kanaria, throat slit and bleeding out in Tsugi's arms... Ever since seeing his Mara's face, stricken and pale as she watched her sister dying, Sander felt as though some vast internal pressure had been building up through the entirety of his body. He was no stranger to this feeling; it was anger, pure homicidal fury, and it brought with it questions.

What had he done to provoke Walker to attack? How dare he invade his home, and hurt his friends?

Of course, he knew the answer to the first question: the last time he had seen Walker- also the first time he had met the feared serial killer- he had beaten him to within an inch of his life. This was something bound to stick with a man. Still, knowing that Walker was a dangerous psychotic helped a great deal in explaining... all this.

They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the only entrance to which was the single door behind Sander. Kana's blood had seeped in from under it, a grisly reminder of the terrible scene he had had to walk through to get here. The Diamond Dust, the odd psychoreactive particles that suffused the air on Trismestigius, was out in force, filling the air and casting the scene in eerie blue light. He couldn't help but think that this was all a setup, and not only because of Kana, but...

Because this was where Elsa was. Not literally, of course; whatever had happened after her death, his late wife's remains were no doubt long gone. But Sander had marked this as her final resting place, where she could lie in peace, at least in his mind. The refuge for his memories, where he could go to remind himself why he was fighting this war. To reignite the fires of hate against the Doctor.

To that end, he had erected a headstone overlooking the ocean... the same headstone Walker was now leaning against, almost to the point of pushing it out from its moorings. The simple sight of that made Sander's trigger finger itchy.

'Oh, I never wanted your little programmer dead, Sander,' Walker chuckled, the picture of calmness, despite the gun pointed at him. Those eyes... 'She wouldn't be much of a gift if she'd died. Didn't she look beautiful, hanging in between that and life, though?'

Sander exploded. Vocally, it was only a tiny choked gasp in the back of his throat, but the rest of his body tensed for attack. He lifted his rifle, fired from the hip in a wide, scything arc, diagonally across Walker's torso. Behind him came the whirring of machinery, and bright light, before the bullets tinkled out of the air, drained of momentum. A moment later the same light hit the rifle, tearing it from his hands and sending it spinning away over the lip of the cliff and into the ocean. Growling in frustration, Sander drew the pistol stowed in his belt, aimed and fired, only to have it suffer the same fate.

'Jerry!' He shouted, eyes burning with murderous intent. 'Shut off the fucking zero point generators so I can kill this fucker!'

'Jericho isn't taking requests right now,' Walker said, a tad smugly. 'Marduk had some very specific instructions to fulfill, and he did rather well. I spent a long time setting this scene, Sander. I'm glad we're both here, now.'

'Okay, I'm going to say this as nicely as I can: what the fuck do you want?!' Sander shouted. Really, shouting was all he had, given that he no longer had any weapons and, if he opted to physically attack Walker, he would lose. Badly. So he shouted, and it actually did make him feel a little better. Only a little.

Walker smiled that chilling smile again. It wouldn't have been so bad, if only he would show any emotion anywhere else on his face. As it stood, it just looked like he wanted to eat you.

'I think you remember the day I met you, Sander Hackett,' He said, leaning back further against the simple black headstone, making Sander's fists clench involuntarily. 'I certainly do. You beat me a rather unsightly shade of black and blue, and that sort of thing leaves an impression. Or several. You punch hard, Sander.'

He laughed then, and this was even worse than smiling; at least with smiling Sander got the sense that Walker understood the basic concept. This laughter was plain ghoulish, an expulsion of sound that seemed to have nothing in common with human joy. Sander began to wonder just how twisted up inside the man in front of him was.

'And that made you come here for revenge? It made you do this?' Sander fought down the urge to attack. It wouldn't help, it wouldn't help...

'Sander.'

Okay, voice in the mind. Dulcimer. Don't react, don't let him know...

'I am communicating with you through the Dust. I have your back.'

Through the Dust? It can do that?

'Revenge? Oh, you misunderstand me, Sander!' Again, the awful laugh. 'Do you know how long it had been since someone had beaten me like that? Been that angry with me? It was wonderful! Pure sensation! Nobody has ever hurt me the way you did! Your rage, Sander. I love it.'

Twitch, twitch...

'What. The. Fuck. Does. That. Mean?'

'I'm saying that I love you, Sander.' Nothing on Walker's face seemed anything other than completely genuine, which was actually more troubling than when he was hiding something.

'Oh, and here I thought this wasn't going to get creepier...' Sander sighed to himself.

'WALKER!' The voice howled, slamming through the door like it wasn't there. It was the sound of tortured metal and screeching machinery, yet it carried a disturbingly organic, familiar air.

Moments later, the door was torn from its hinges with a roar of true fury, thrown over the side of the cliff and into the sea. What walked through it was... not human.

And, well... It didn't so much walk as sprint, eating up distance shockingly fast and booking it straight for Walker. Sander knew; it had to be Ren. He had recognized a distinct undertone in the voice, and the creature itself was clearly her suit, just alive. The armored plating roiled and flexed like living tissue, constantly changing and evolving, sprouting new tentacles and spines. The helmet and faceplate had completely changed, morphing into a reptilian face and jaw, set with rows of needle sharp teeth and four jagged, glowing white eyes set high on the head. The whole creature ran on all fours.

It was frightening, it was impressive, and...

It was quickly zeroed in on and caught in the same zero-point beam emitters that had so effectively disarmed Sander himself. It sat, poised mid stride, partway along the path to Walker, who leaned back further against Elsa's headstone and laughed. Cruelly, only Ren's legs and lower torso were rendered immobile; her head- the creature's head- was still entirely conscious. Her helmet receded, actually rippling back along her neck like it was syrup, revealing her livid face.

'Well, well, if it isn't the freak!' Walker taunted. 'Good to see you're still around. Mighty fine performance you pulled with my men, too. It's edifying to see how you've finally managed to overcome those pesky limiter programs yourself, for a change. You look beautiful, in that suit. Too bad I'm only here for one guy.'

'I'llkillyouI'llkillyouI'llkillyou!'

'Oh, someone's still a tad miffed at me for what I did on Uo. That was a fun day,' Walker grinned.

'What you did...' Ren roared, the words barely understandable above her pure, blast furnace fury. 'I'm going to RIP YOU APART WITH MY BARE FUCKING HANDS!'

********************

Seven years prior

Shikishima Team 01 mission log: 145

Team: C.O Captain Jae Hoshikuji, Squad 4, Subject Seven (Ren Syfte)

Mission Status: Package Secure, landing zone listed hot. Subject Seven en route to assist.

'We're getting fucking strafed here, Captain!' Itazu leaned out from behind cover, just slightly, shouting across the gap, over the gunfire. He actually seemed angry at Jae, as though the C.O had been the one to put them into this situation, rather than, say, a combination of the enemy, and mission dispatch.

Though, admittedly, Jae could see why his subordinate wouldn't want to be here, right now. A hail of gunfire was not an environment that was conducive to calm and relaxation. In fact, it was rather the opposite, a point that Jae proved moments after thinking it by jumping with an inarticulate shout as a bullet slammed into the dirt inches away from his leg. There were plenty of places he would rather be.

He had been lucky even to get back to the secure landing zone before the firing started; only now, they were pinned down. The area was too hot, and until one- or both- sides of the conflict were gone, their extraction vehicle would not be touching down. The last transmission Jae had gotten from Command had been a confirmation that "Subject Seven,"- why wouldn't they just call her Ren, already?- was on her way.

Jae imagined her running- yes, she always ran, since she was faster than most of the transport options available- here, chewing up distance like nothing else, grinning like a madwoman. The action awaited, and she craved it. He just wished she'd hurry the fuck up, as it was only a matter of time until-

Oh yes. There it is.

To a man, the entire group swore out loud at the sound; the low droning thump of helicopters. Granted, in-atmosphere combat craft weren't incredibly advanced for this day and age, but given that Jae himself was squishy and entirely bereft of all but the most basic of body armor, they would suffice for the task of reducing him to bloody shreds.

'So, that's the end of us, huh?' Hirasawa said flatly, looking out over the five helicopters comfortably cresting the safety of their cover and directed their sights downward. There is a unique feeling one gets, when sighted down the barrel of a gun. It's not so much seeing one's life flash before one's eyes, but seeing the rest of it; unfortunately, it's often a short affair, and bloody, too.

'Must be!' Itazu snapped. 'Unless that fucking Half hurries the fuck up and comes help us!'

'You rang, Shotacon?' Her voice rang out over the radio. At the same time, a missile detached itself from the underside of the nearest helicopter and sped toward Jae's position, causing literally everyone affiliated with him to swear in the most virulent and wholehearted way.

'I got it, I got it!' Ren crowed, speeding out from the undergrowth in a sunset orange blur, stopping rigidly in front of Jae, as the missile approached, burning through the air in a dull roar of fire and imminent death. She repositioned herself, armor glinting in the setting sunlight, distributing her weight in a certain way. Everything about her, in that moment, signaled that something awesome was about to happen.

'Booyah!' She roared, bringing her heavy booted foot up sharply into the air, a deep, resounding clang hitting the air as it made contact with the underside of the missile. The entire projectile was forced upward, over her head, as her leg swung up, high in the air. It careened away, out into the treeline, eventually exploding some way away from the landing zone.

'Oh...' Itazu sighed. 'That did not just happen...'

'I know, I know,' Ren said, helmet sliding back to allow her to wink knowingly over her shoulder at Jae. 'I'm awesome. Now check this out.'

And she jumped.

Thirty vertical feet. Directly through the center of the helicopter that had fired on them.

There was the sound of screeching, tortured metal- and the screams of the crew- as the Ren-shaped bullet slammed into, then through, the windscreen of the chopper. For the woman herself, each individual action became itemized; arms forward to protect against breaking glass and metal, tuck the limbs in to avoid catching on anything particularly strong, then stretch out an arm like so to grab the stabilizing fin on the other side to swing around, planting feet against the side...

As her own motion stopped, Ren suddenly became subject to the swinging momentum of two halves of an expensive aircraft separating and falling out of the sky, while sparks showered down from the wreckage. Her entire world jerked and spun and dropped fast; she braced herself- essentially standing horizontally, gripping onto the side of the chopper as it fell, before jumping again.

This time, the unstable nature of her standing start meant that she couldn't leap right through the next helicopter in line, only onto it. Her metal-shod shins slammed into the side of the nearest intact craft, causing it to lurch dangerously to one side, swaying in the wind. Down below, her crew watched incredulously as she cracked open the plated armor like it was a cooked lobster before drawing first the copilot, then the pilot, from within before dropping them out of the sky. They flailed as they fell, honestly looking more surprised than fearful.

'Okay, it's official:' Jae shook his head. 'Ren is using helicopters like piñatas, there is nothing more for modern weaponry to accomplish.'

They fell from the sky, one by one; screams and crashes punctuated with explosions. Some fell whole, others in pieces, metal and scrap falling like rain. They left deep craters in the earth, thud after sonorous thud, each one far more acceptable to Jae than the wet thuds of bullets through flesh that he had been expecting. He actually found himself smiling as they fell; he was very lucky to have Ren on their side.

Saki's gasp snapped him out of these thoughts, and he looked up through the latest spinning dervish of wreckage-to-be to see that, as strong as she was, Ren simply wasn't capable of making the jump between the rapidly falling chopper she currently stood upon and the next one. Worse still, two more were on the horizon, and Jae found himself calling out for her to stop, as she attempted the leap.

She had fallen too far, there was no way she would make it; in its attempt to escape her the nearest functional helicopter had risen to a safer altitude, and Ren's leaping attack had landed her directly through the left side rotor. The blades screeched as they met the immoveable hardsuit she wore, screaming to a stop as Ren, noticeably shaking from the impact, struggled to right herself and climb atop the support strut that attached the rotor to the rest of the craft. Suddenly bereft of left side propulsion, the right side rotors spun on, sending the chopper into a steep freefall.

Ren's vision blurred as she spun, swaying heavily on the spot. The damn rotor had hit her right in the face; as invincible as the armor made her feel, sudden impacts like that could still cause her head to slam into her helmet, buffers or no. A trickle of blood dripped down her forehead from near her hairline, and she barely caught the warning siren going off through her speaker systems before the first bullet slammed right into her head, the impact bashing her temple against the unforgiving metal of her suit interior. She went down hard.

Jae cried out in shock as the two remaining helicopters, strafing their falling comrades, got a bead on Ren and fired in unison, the twin high-velocity chain rifles attached to the noses of the craft opening up, lines of bullets lancing across Ren's chest and up to her head. It was those last few shots that seemed to do her in, causing her to fall heavily and roll off the now perforated chopper as it fell.

'Autopilot mode engaged: All personnel, retreat to a safe distance.'

The voice was soft and childish, but the sheer volume of the speakers made it resound through the air. Once or twice, when he had been able to coax it out of her- sometimes through less than admirable means- Ren had spoken to Jae about Shichi, the alien intelligence that was, technically, in control of her hardsuit-growing capabilities. This voice sounded pretty much like he had imagined Shichi, based on those conversations.

And now it was in control of the suit...

***************

Shichi was happy. He had never gotten to play like this before.

He had been happy before, when Ren let him jump to the helicopters. Ren did not like being in midair while wearing him, and so she usually just fired his guns. Shooting was nice, but jumping was better. Much more fun, to be allowed to punch and kick. Much more like before, in the times before Ren.

Shichi could not really remember those times that well.

The Doctors said that when Ren went to sleep, Shichi was allowed to play by himself. There were a lot of things Shichi was not allowed to play with, like Captain Jae and the rest of the unit, and when Shichi tried to play with things he was not allowed to, the Doctors hurt Shichi. But that did not matter now. There were plenty of things Shichi was allowed to play with. Big things.

The bullets had hurt him, but now Shichi was in control of the suit, and Ren was along for the ride. Shichi knew how to jump much higher than Ren did, and so he jumped to the helicopter that had attacked him first, and tore off its wings. No more flying for them.

He threw the wings at the other helicopter, because he was a good shot, as well as strong. Shichi did not get to play like this for very long, so he thought it was important to show off all of his skills when he was allowed. He even let himself fall with the helicopter, because he wanted the unit to see that he could walk out of the flames without being hurt too much. And Ren would be fine, which would make Captain Jae happy.

Ren liked Captain Jae, but she told Shichi not to talk about it. Still, Shichi liked making Captain Jae happy because of this. So, he would make sure Ren would be safe. Because he liked Ren, too.

Soon, his game would be over, and he would have to sleep. Still, Shichi did not mind. He had gotten to play, and that was a treat. He would have a story to tell Ren.

She would like that.

*************

Jae watched, warily, as Shichi walked out of the flames and wreckage, stepping briskly- if a tad stiffly- over to him, before saluting.

'Mission accomplished. All hostiles eliminated. This unit will retire upon embarkation in a designated extraction vehicle. It is recommended that the pilot be given medical treatment ASAP: Pilot's condition is stable, she had sustained a concussion but it otherwise functional. A call for extraction has already been made.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 15



It was almost like the thing was reading from a script. For all he knew, it probably was. Ren had told him plenty of things about the project that had made her... what she is. There were plenty of morally dubious actions that went into making a supersoldier like her, chief among them had been the straight up lobotomy that Shichi had received, in order to curb its more violent tendencies. It hadn't all the way worked, and so numerous programs and strictures were added in on top of that, to ensure obedience and cooperation from the alien entity.

To repeat, morally dubious.

Not that Ren herself seemed to mind...

*************

'Were you waiting for me this entire time?'

'Well...' Jae rubbed the back of his neck in thoughtful contemplation. 'Yeah, but in my defense you were only out for like twenty minutes. Half an hour, tops.'

'It was over an hour,' A nearby nurse helpfully corrected, without looking up from her work.

'Yes, thank you for that,' Jae snapped, looking away as Ren started grinning at him. He'd never been able to withstand that "Ha ha, you have emotions," grin she sometimes gave him. It always made him think that she didn't, which was something he knew -hoped- was untrue.

'An hour, huh?' That grin...

'What do you want from me, Ren? You're one of my men...'

'Just one of the guys?' She cocked an eyebrow. 'Eh, Sir?'

She crossed one leg over the other, thighs rubbing together languorously. It was an action designed to grab his attention, and she succeeded at that, causing one of those rare instances where Jae looked away, hands twitching nervously in his lap. Ren enjoyed the fact that she could still get to him like that; it was a way of redressing the balance of power, in the wake of, well, of all those times he had her on her knees.

Theirs was an adversarial relationship, but it was a relationship nonetheless; they had been nominally together for going on five years now. Not that anyone else knew it; Ren would never forgive herself if she was discovered getting too close to the boss. For whatever reason, Uo military culture tended to retain some highly archaic notions about gender. Ren herself was only barely the exception to the rule because... well, hardsuit.

'I think I know better than most that you are not one of the guys,' Jae winked, laden with meaning. It was Ren's turn to look away, 'Now, are you getting out of that bed, or what?'

'I dunno, what if I want to lie in a little more, Sir?' She grinned.

'Wasn't asking, really,' Jae grabbed her hand and pulled her upright, frowning slightly as she swayed dizzily. 'Come on, soldier. We've got work to do.'

He led her from the med bay, ignoring her half-voiced whines and protests; she never got quite enough sleep, he knew, but he also didn't care. Frankly, her lack of sleep was her own doing, a kind of imposed insomnia that led to her staying up for hours, communing with Shichi in an effort to understand the alien creature that had taken up residence in her body. It was understandable, but at the same time... There were undoubtedly things that the research division didn't want her to know. Prodding around like that might not be healthy for her.

He worried, he really did.

'What kind of work are you talking about there, boss?' Ren asked, once she regained her feet.

They were out of sight, away from the rest of the base... Good. Jae turned, wheeling around fast enough that he caught her by surprise- or at least, she let him catch her- and pressed her against the wall so hard the sound echoed down the hall. His hands were at her shoulders, fingers gripped just hard enough to hurt a little. His eyes bored into hers.

By now, he was familiar with this struggle; both Ren's own internal one, and the external one between he and her both. Her mismatched eyes flared with the old fire, the indignation and flat out anger Jae had become so very familiar with, over the years. At most times, he had gotten it down to only a momentary glare; his own eyes never left hers, challenging, steady and unmovable. Like staring down a wild animal, waiting until she found her place and, yes, looked away. It would only be for a second when it came, a slight flicker of surrender, but it had never failed to come yet.

Ah, there it was. That tense little shiver at feeling his hands on her, that momentary lapse as her eyes darted away, before refocusing on him, shining with a different emotion; defiance, as opposed to rage. He had beaten the monster inside of her again.

'Ah, so you understand,' Jae smiled gently, winking at her. He leaned in, face closer and closer to hers. She worked as hard as she could to suppress the tremor of desire that ran through her. Damn him! He knew, he always knew, exactly how to make her react. How did he always know?

'C'mon, tough girl,' He grinned, mouth so close to hers. 'Give it up.'

She knew that, no matter how close he got to her, he would never take that final step and just kiss her, already. That was for her to do, something she had to give. Hard as she tried, she could never stop herself from blushing as she swayed forward, opening her mouth to him, allowing him to taste her. She found herself pressed against the wall, so hard, hands shaking, clenched into tight fists. It was always so hard to relax, in these first few moments; Ren hadn't forgotten just how public this particular display of affection was, and her eyes slid out to the side to watch for approaching interlopers that might spoil their fun.

The seconds stretched out into eternity as he held her there, in view of anyone who cared to look, tongue probing her mouth. Her heart thudded in her chest, a fact that made her more angry than anything else; why, after all these years, was he still able to get under her skin so easily? Why was this so... so-

Ah, fuck it...

She could allow herself this one moment. Throwing caution to the wind, Ren closed her eyes, letting herself melt into him, hands reaching up to grip at his back, possessively. Just a moment, just a moment.

She found herself gasping a sharp breath as he pulled away, sliding a hand up between her legs, pressing against the heat that he found there. Don't move, don't speak, don' even fucking react...

'So, are we taking this to your room?' He smiled slyly, hand between her legs, just hard enough to cause a little discomfort. A little mean, a little rough... Damn it.

'Yes,' She hissed, looking away. 'Yes, fine! Fuck it!'

'Oh, I will,' A toothy grin, a little dip of the head to kiss her again, just gently. More possession than force, 'Believe me, I will.'

And he was gone. He expected her to follow, didn't even look back to be sure. The problem was... As sorry as it was...

'Fuckin' smartass...' Ren growled, falling into line behind her Captain.

**************

His feet tapped lightly on the floor of her room as he entered, snapping his fingers without even turning around. He had done so right as she crossed the threshold after him, and it caused her to stop in her tracks, sliding the door closed and thumbing the electric lock. This was a part of their routine, but that didn't make it any easier. He turned to watch. Harder still.

At the door, everything that she was in the outside world stopped. She was no longer Subject Seven, no longer the Guardian, no longer really Ren, at least not in the way the normal people saw her. And this had to be seen; her teeth ground together, she blushed but kept her eyes firmly, defiantly locked on Jae's, as she popped the button on her shorts even so. They fell away, sliding down her long legs, followed quickly by her boxer shorts. She felt his eyes on her exposed body, but steeled herself against the embarrassment, stripping off her shirt in a single, fluid motion. Her mismatched eyes challenged him as she regained eye contact.

This was it. She had always felt bare around him, exposed in a way she couldn't quite put into words, but this was... something else. He saw her scars, he had seen her get most of them, and saw beyond them. She could see the adoration in his eyes, tempered by an odd, cool feeling, and she almost couldn't stand it. Couldn't bear the indignation of being told to strip and kneel, the humiliation of what he did to her... and how good it felt.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she obeyed his silent instruction, borne to her knees by the weight of his expectations, looking up at him as though she were looking at the sun; briefly, in fear of being burned by his gaze. She feared she would expose too much.

Jae went for her bed immediately, dropping heavily onto the thing like he owned the place. It was that cocky assured confidence that got her, every time. Still, his eyes never left her body and the fact was, it made her feel... human, she guessed. Wanted. Her cheeks burned as she did it, but she crawled after him, eyes downcast in a desperate attempt to hide from him. Yet even so, even so, she struggled to be enticing, sexy, feminine in a way that was utterly alien to her. Without knowing why.

Finally, after what seemed like miles, she reached him, settling back on her haunches and giving him her eyes, defiant and steely. This was a part of it; couldn't let him see weakness, couldn't even let him know she wanted it. Treat it like a challenge, like the slog of basic training. Show him she was strong enough, even on her knees.

'I still can't get over seeing you like this,' Jae said softly, running a hand down her cheek, the action making her flinch. 'Never thought we'd make it this far. But, oddly, you make for such a fun little slave,' He pronounced the word with the kind of relish that made her squirm. He was loving this, she was sure, 'So today I thought we'd try something a little more dramatic. Care to take a guess?'

'Run out of ideas yet, Sir?' She answered flatly, eyeing him with only a small degree of mistrust. These kinds of things, her little "dates," with Jae, with regularity over the years. He'd never steered her wrong, no matter how she fought or argued; in fact, resistance was part of the fun. But he'd never hurt her, not seriously. He'd never broken the trust, which was... new. Oh, he pushed her, absolutely he did. Almost to her limits sometimes, if she was being entirely honest. It had become a point of pride; she could take anything he dished out, goddamn it.

Jae grinned as he retrieved something from his back pocket and showed her, hanging it from his fingers in front of her eyes. Ren very pointedly didn't gasp; there was only a deepening of her frown, a slight widening to the eyes that betrayed the whirl of emotions that swept through her. Jae could see it, read it as clear as day.

'Ooh, we're like that, are we, Sir?' Ren remembered herself just in time to get back to teasing him, though the question was genuine. She really hadn't connected what she and Jae did with any form of fetish...

Though it should have been obvious...

'Yup,' Jae leaned back, the collar swinging from his fingers. 'Just think of it like the pips on your uniform, Ren. Just another indicator of rank.'

'I...' She trailed off. That thing made her belly knot, and in seconds, she realized why; up until then her submission had no symbol, just passion. The desire to find an ideal strength, something to make her bow. But now he was asking her to always be the weaker. To always worship. Rather than fight. To finally surrender. Something she'd been trained not to do, as his fingers caressed her chin, as she looked up at him. Her eyes almost asking the question themselves: "Are you sure?"

'What do you say? Are you ready?' His voice was soft, now, as he realized the commitment inherent in this act too. As momentous as it must be for Ren, the sheer challenge that would come in constantly exerting his control over her would be an exhausting one, and yet his hand shook, as if it wanted to ring her neck with this collar, to mark her as his. Looking into her eyes, confronted with the actual, physical, concrete proof of what was coming, he very nearly put the damned thing away.

But Ren, infuriating, bloody minded, brilliant Ren... She grinned at him, sharp teeth sparkling, pressed her chin down against his hand, challenged him with her eyes, 'I'm ready... Sir.'

Jae smiled, taking his hand from her chin and tousling her hair, 'Good girl.' As she craned her neck he slid the black leather around it, clasping it tightly on her throat. Her name was embossed there, just under her chin; this was her collar. it was significant just for her and her captain, nobody else. 'What do you think?' Jae asked. 'Fits well?'

Nobody else would see it, nobody else would see it...

The surrealness of the leather around her neck was felt in every extremity of her body, tingling on her skin. Her instincts and training told her to be in control of the situation, but at this moment, it was like the edge of a precipice. She knew what she could do, how she could alleviate the watery nervousness in the pit of her stomach, to take the reins and walk a more comfortable path, but as usual that was defied by her feelings, that excitement that came with throwing herself over the edge. That thrill-seeking drive. It was like nothing else, she couldn't replicate it, it took her to places she hadn't known to exist before she met him. The trepidation in his eyes excited her more, and other than her desire for challenge, the animal inside her came alive too. It was too tight. 'It does, Sir.'

And then came the paroxysm, the little spasm of defiance that proved that, collared or no, owned or no, she was still Ren, 'Now what else you got?'

He giggled, a silly little sound at Ren's rebelliousness, 'Shut up, Ren.' He tousled her hair, and she gave her usual wide, toothy grin even as she dipped her head. Both knew this kind of peace wouldn't last, especially not when they got into the swing of things and Ren got... energetic. But it was nice to pretend they were both normal people, if only for a moment.

He stood, moving around behind her as she stared straight ahead, as she had been taught to do over so many months of initial play. Her fighter's instincts told her to follow him with her eyes, and even though she found it appropriate that she put him on the same level as an enemy, she fought it down; she had learned to pick her battles with her Captain.

This became a little harder as his hands descended, sliding down the long curves of her shoulders, caressing down to her breasts. The Captain loved her breasts, a fact that Ren herself wasn't wild about; there was a reason she bound them, after all. The moments that he touched her were the ones that conflicted her the most; it got her going, but at the same time felt almost like a denial of something innate to her, locking away what she really felt in favor of physical pleasure. She leaned her back against him, hard, making him sway.

It was important he knew that he couldn't beat her entirely.

She cried out as, rapidly, he gripped her nipples between his fingers and twisted viciously, bowing her body forward in a lewd prostration. She growled angrily once she caught herself, and the unexpected nature of the discomfort wore off; she could handle pain. It was the way it flooded her in a hot wave that she couldn't handle.

'I knew you weren't paying attention,' Jae's voice slipped into her ear. Finally, he released her nipples, making her exhale sharply at the sudden rush of blood to those particular extremities, 'You're too easy, Ren.'

'Fucking... damn it, Sir,' She growled, shoulders twitching dangerously. Shichi was silent, as usual; Ren knew that all the little impulses she was experiencing, all the tiny triggers that told her to attack, were coming from her. And she tamped down on them, one by one.

'The pain,' His hand slipped lower, fingers encircling her... Oh god. 'Is only temporary. But you'll remember what comes next.'

That same unyielding pressure, this time against the seat of her pleasure, right between her legs. It exploded through her; white stars in her head and a flood of heat against his hand. She buckled, a long, shuddering snarl ripping itself from her throat as she fell forward, pretense collapsing for but a moment as she pulled away from the blistering, agonizing sensation between her legs. Her cunt throbbed, as the bare skin of her back found itself against the bed's cool sheets.

'Fuck!' She breathed, shoulders shaking in something between laughter and tears.

'I know, it hurts,' Jae shrugged, not skipping a beat. 'Did you like it?'

'N- I don't...' Ren stopped, grasping feebly for a word, any word that would get her out of saying... 'Y-yes. Sir.'

'Good girl,' She flushed with embarrassment at his vague condescension. 'Now, get back here. We're doing it again.'

Walk away. Just leave. You don't have to put up with this. Not again...

'Yes, Sir,' She said, nodding despite herself. Her eyes flickered with red rage, but more and more this was being revealed as merely a front. She couldn't even look at him as she crawled back into position. Her body shivered as his fingers trailed down her body, slipping back down between her legs. His thumb and forefinger pressed gently against her cunt; lips and clit all within the reach of...

'Fuck!' Ren growled as he clasped her most sensitive place roughly, her entire body shaking in pain. She gritted her teeth, exhaled steadily through her nose as he persisted, discomfort rippling through her body. Why was she letting him do this to her?

On and on it went, pain washing over her in waves, making her see stars. Her body roiled with it; even through it all his fingers were pressing on her clit, and she felt herself moving slightly, grinding her hips against his hand, against the acid pleasure building through the mists of pain. Fight it, fight it... Don't give in.

She made no effort to hide her relief when he released her this time, the breath leaving her lungs as she relaxed, entire body unwinding. She panted, teeth grinding in irritation as Jae laughed, apparently incredibly amused at her pain.

'Oh my,' Behind her, he grinned, and Ren could feel it prickling the back of her neck. Jae lifted his hand from between her legs, letting it... oh, hell.

His fingers glistened in the light, his smile turning smug behind her, 'You really do like this.'

'Sir,' She tried to make it sound like nothing at all, but the truth was, her body was on fire. Her pussy throbbed, ached with desperate, conflicted need. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to fuck him, or fight him, in this moment.

'Say it, Ren.'

'I...' A deep, shuddering breath. 'Fuck it: I like it, Sir. And you know that, so are you happy now?'

'Pretty much,' Jae shrugged. He stepped a little closer, and she could feel his hardness pressing into her back, 'Care to guess what we're going to do now?'

'Oh, I think I know,' Ren deadpanned, squirming as lightly as she could. She knew.

'Bend over the bed.'

Ren couldn't help but smirk at this; no matter what he put her through, at the end of the day she knew that he always wanted her like crazy. Oh, there were times when he had abstained and left her without the kind of satisfaction his inventive little mind could provide her, but she always understood: he was leaving just as frustrated as he left her. There was a considerable amount of joy to be had in the knowledge that the little shake in her ass never went unnoticed.

'Like what you see, Sir?' She challenged, bent over with a toothy grin. Honestly, she was looking forward to this; at least she was familiar with getting fucked. She knew what was expected of her.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 15



'Yes,' Jae's simple candor didn't even make her uncomfortable anymore. He had a habit of treating her body like his territory, which, well...

Shit. Shouldn't be thinking like that.

Still, she grunted as his fingers slid roughly, deeply into her, stretching her abused pussy like it was nothing. To him it undoubtedly was, but Ren found herself writhing with the sensation of it; the rippling waves of hot, uncomfortable pleasure. It felt good in the worst way possible. And... fuck did it ever touch something deep inside of her.

Much like Jae himself. Ren caught herself quickly, realizing that she had arched her back in a disgusting display of enthusiasm. The captain was chuckling behind her, just to make sure she was under no illusions as to whether or not he had seen that, 'You're far too easy to play...'

She knew what he was going to say next; it wasn't going to go over well. Come on Jae, a little slack? Just this once?

'Slut.'

'Fuck! Just get it over with already! Stop fuckin' toying with me... Sir!' Ren stared steadfastly ahead, but in truth her body was roiling. A minute more, a second... She wouldn't be able to take it. Not today. Not with the collar around her neck.

But she got the feeling Jae wasn't going to play around today either. Usually he was one to take his time, make her scream with almost clinical precision, keep her dangling until she begged, the fucker. Of course, when it finally happened... Sparks flew, but she would never admit that out loud.

'Eager girl, is she?' She felt him move up behind her, the sound of his zip dropping sending a shiver down her spine. It was an odd sense of eagerness; on the one hand, there was a reason she kept doing this despite the conflict it raised in her. On the other, Jae did his best to turn her into a whimpering, begging wreck during these moments, and he succeeded far too often for Ren's liking. Still, she pressed back against him, admittedly eager for his touch.

Her lips curved in a genuine smile as she felt the heat of his hardness press against the inside of her thigh; it felt good to be able to do that to him. She did wonder how long he was going to tease her this time, as he ran the tip of his cock across the lips of her pussy, feeling a bit of her wetness touch him. She didn't even feel conflicted about that. Wanting this? Not something to feel odd about.

'We're going to try something new, Ren...' He put on that voice; that soft, unbending voice that slid under her skin like a needle. She shivered.

'Sir?'

He shifted his weight, lifting himself up... she felt his length graze the soft curve of her ass, his fingers gently, firmly parting her cheeks...

Ren growled, practically feeling his smile prickling on the back of her neck. She gritted her teeth and spread her legs wider, giving him greater access; a silent acceptance of this new challenge. She lifted her heel, pressed it down onto the flat of his corresponding foot. An easy message: bring it on.

When she tensed at his bulk moving up against her, his hand gently stroked the back of her neck. He spoke, and for once it only sounded vaguely condescending to her ears, 'Don't worry, Ren. I'll go slowly.'

'No,' Ren answered, the word breaking quickly from her lips, oddly strangled. Her mouth curved upwards into a manic, energetic smile, 'Fuck that. Go fast. All at once.' She laughed, a quick, harsh bark, 'Show me what you can really do, Sir.'

She found her smile fit rather well; she felt insane. Like she was tumbling, flying downhill, nothing could stop her. Not reason or fear or anything. She feared nothing. She was invincible; Ren the Butcher, the Guardian, Subject Seven. She could take anything her captain could dish out.

Even after all this time, what she was doing was crazy. The Uo military culture was such a boy's club, the only reason Ren had been accepted into such a high position was her adaptable genetics. If she got caught in this position, if this got around at all...

But that was part of it, wasn't it? The risk, the sheer thrill of this man's hand on her neck, his collar ringing her, weighing her down. The focus it brought, so like the fight, the brawl, the kill or be killed clarity when the rage fell upon her mind, hot and thick like blood and bone marrow. The screams, echoing in her mind like battle cries. Adrenaline flooding her system with the dizzying, heady vertigo of utter indestructibility. This was exactly like that, only without the expectation of control, just the soaring feeling. Sex and death.

Delicious.

'You asked for it,' Jae said softly behind her, shifting his weight. She gritted her teeth in the scant second she had before he pushed. He broke right through her, straight through her initial resistance, completely into her. She snarled through her teeth, the pain burning like a brand. Ren had an odd relationship with pain, and here, with him... It sent a hot, wet rush flooding down between her legs. She buried her face in the sheets to avoid showing Jae the reflexive tears that sprang to her mismatched eyes.

'Ren?' Jae's voice wasn't soft or reassuring, merely questioning. The years had made him highly attuned to what she could take, and the noises she was making weren't ones that required he stop and make a more detailed check, but it couldn't hurt to stop and make sure.

'Keep going,' She grunted, sliding her hips back against him, filling herself just to experience it, to break through the pain and start feeling what lay beyond it. She caught herself automatically, adding, 'Sir.'

Jae had always known when to be rough, and this was one of those times. He speared into her, causing another pained exhalation as she slowly became used to the sensation. It was in moments like these when she could truly focus, push her attention away from the outside world and focus inwardly; right now the world contained only herself and the man inside her. Her soldier's instincts dulled, then fell away completely; she stopped cataloguing every sensation, turning it over in her mind and taking in everything that they implied, and instead began to feel in the moment. The dull burn of his cock as it pounded in and out of her ass, and the attendant ripple of confused, sticky pleasure between her legs, the sweat on her body, the scrape of Jae's pants on her upper thighs, were more real to her than any weapon she had ever wielded, any enemy she had ever killed... anyone else in her life.

Her body moved on its own, spreading her legs as wide as they could go and relaxing her weight down onto the bed, allowing Jae the run of her body. Things were more comfortable like that, and it wasn't long before her grunts turned into liquid, silken moans. Ren had always hated the way she sounded during sex; all the roughness in her voice fell away, everything she said or vocalized rang oddly feminine in her ears. She was as slick aurally as she became between her legs.

Jae of course loved her "I'm getting fucked voice," as he called it, and had once remarked that he felt quite privileged to hear it. Not that that stopped him from teasing her about it, taunting her viciously during the act itself, often just at the moment she tipped over into orgasm, his voice ringing through her ears as her body was aflame. It was... intense.

Her legs twitched, her back arching to allow more of him into her. She began to relish each impact of his hips on her upturned ass, though she kept her face buried in the bed so he couldn't see her. She was practically biting her lip to keep from crying out.

'C'mon!' She growled, voice muffled but panting hotly. 'T-that all you got, Sir? Harder!'

'I think you're liking this a bit too much, Ren,' How did he always sound so composed when he was doing her? Like she'd had no effect on him at all, 'It's a bit surprising. Never would have thought the famous Ren Syfte would take it up the ass so easily. I know some people who'd love to know that particular piece of information.'

He was only teasing, of course he was... So why did his words ripple through her body, boil through her like acid, send her higher and higher? 'Fuck you!' She panted, unable to sound even slightly tough like this; bent over, open, red faced and moaning, taking whatever he gave her like... Like a...

Like a good slut. Oh fuck...

'No, no, Ren,' His voice was so soft, it made her shudder. Oh no, oh no, no, fuck; she knew what was coming. Don't say it. Don't do it. Please don't do it, not now. She wouldn't be able to take it, not with his dick in her like this...

'I think you'd rather we fuck you,' That voice, that fucking voice. 'Slut.'

Shit.

His hand swung forward, slapping her ass with all the considerable force that his toned muscles could muster. The sound of his palm hitting the softly muscled curve of her- oh no, please no- penetrated ass filled the room, and she finally cried out, yowled in a dizzying mix of pain and pleasure, eyes snapping open.

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She had to say it, didn't she?

The collar was around her neck, she could smell the leather, feel the pressure of it tight around her throat, heated by the warmth of her body. Well worn, sitting there for long enough, symbol of who she was before this man. Standing tall on the battlefield; Ren the Guardian. Here, in this room with Jae? A million miles away; Ren the Collared. His slut, on her knees, taking every stress he could dish out with a special kind of pride in her submission. The question was, which was the more challenging role?

The question was... Which was the real Ren?

Can't hold out, not against that...

He kept spanking her roughly as she cried out, the words running together, in a desperate, trembling stream of sound, 'Permission to cum?!'

'Excuse me?' Jae slapped her ass again, harder this time. All through it, he fucked her like her body was the only thing that mattered, his tool for getting off. The problem was, the agonizing truth was that he was right; everything in her screamed for more of him. She was acutely aware of the blazing heat of his length in her asshole, his hands beating her ass, her nipples rubbing against the roughness of the sheets with each inward thrust... She needed to...

'Permission to cum Sir?!' She quavered. 'Please?'

'Count it off, soldier!' Jae barked. She knew this game well, and as frustrating as it was, she held on, even as the reminder of the position she held in the outside world tugged the string from her ears to her dripping pussy. Fine! Fine, anything!

'Ten!' Always down from ten, like in the physical training regimens. Exactly as far as you could go, then that little bit beyond it. Even if it killed you. She clenched her fists, gripping the sheets tightly to her, determined to beat him.

'Nine!' He spanked her again, the pain radiating down to her fizzing clit, her hips unconsciously grinding against him as her woefully unfilled pussy trickled warm, sticky juice down her thigh.

'Eight!' Entire body trembling, unable to keep up with the relentless pace of Jae's pistoning cock, still helplessly fucking back against him. Even though that made it so, so much worse.

'S-seven!' Slipping, slipping...

'Six!' Keep it tight, keep it together. Don't slip, don't let him get to you... Don't cum. Whatever happens, don't cum!

'F-... oh fuck! Five!' He always had to make it harder... His fingers slid up, wetly into her cunt, curling through those little pressure points that only he knew about. Her back arched, she swore violently, a shudder wracked her body, tipped her closer to that edge. No, no, no!

'Four!' Fucked in both holes at once, mind blank, filled with pleasure, burning need, ripping through her.

'Three!' Trembling, shuddering, sweating...

'Two! Fuck!' Close, dangerously close. All she wanted... All she couldn't have, was the release of climax. Not yet, not yet. Harder, Jae!

'One! Now, Sir? Please?'

'Do it, my slut,' He was tensing himself, through the haze of arousal she could feel him getting closer...

'Your slut!' She cried. 'Oh, fuck!'

It was over. She was crying, she was cumming, ripped apart and tumbling over the edge into orgasm. Her whole body was in seizure, out of control, sweating and shaking. She hated him, she loved him, she was screaming: more, more, more! He was stiffening behind her, filling her ass, the sticky heat of his cum spilling inside her; she loved it, she loved cum...

Ren the Collared. That was the answer.

He kept his fingers inside of her as his cock slid from her ass, leaving her to moan with whatever voice she could muster as he collapsed on the bed beside her. He fingered her through several trembling, groaning aftershocks before pulling out of her completely, showing her his glistening fingers as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Demonstratively, he licked his hand, tasting her before offering her the same opportunity. She opened her mouth without protest, tongue lapping at his fingers, eyes locked on his, vulnerable and open, all the little battle lines in her head crossed, completely.

When he pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her, she didn't struggle.

'So, that was fun?' Jae seemed to be simply commenting, but the upward inflection in his voice belied the question he was asking her. She buried her head in his chest.

'Uh huh,' Ren stretched languorously. 'Though I might not be sitting down properly for a while.'

Ren had her room set up close to the science division labs, ostensibly for her safety, should anything suddenly go wrong with Shichi, but actually so that her handlers could keep tabs on her, should she go rogue with countless dollars in military hardware. She didn't really mind; at least her quarters were quiet and out of the way. This place was full of activity twenty four hours, and it never really shut down or anything. In this place, the pair was allowed a moment of pristine silence to recover, broken only by the low drone of the air filters.

'You know,' Jae said eventually. 'We have a briefing in a little while.'

'Can't we just stop being soldiers for a little while?' Ren sighed, not looking up. 'My head's still kind of fucked up, and besides that...' She trailed off uncomfortably.

'What's up?' Jae sat up, cocking an eyebrow and straightening up his clothes.

'I might seem like a badass, but I'm still a person,' Ren looked away. 'And I know you're smart enough to know that. I shouldn't have to say it.'

Jae stood, swinging his arms to loosen his muscles. Ren frowned; she herself was still a heavily breathing, sweating mess- just the way she liked it- but Jae was always so together and composed. She felt like she had just run a marathon, but he looked like nothing had happened at all. Aside from his light, tranquil smile, she would have been hard pressed to see any indication that they had just had a moment together. How did he do that?

'Yes, I'm aware that the mighty Ren is a person with feelings, just like the rest of us plebs,' Jae grinned, tossing her the bundle of clothes she had left by the door. 'But I also know that she knows about mine.'

'I'm not saying it first, Jae,' Ren shook her head, smiling helplessly. That smile was an uncanny ability that Jae had; on numerous occasions she had left after one of their dates angered beyond reason, and he had always followed her. Always known the words that would make her smile like that.

'Well, neither am I,' Jae almost laughed. 'Let's face it, Ren: we're not normal people. Maybe we don't need to say that. We both know it, right?'

'I'm not so sure about that...'

This time, Jae did laugh, 'Well, when you put on your big girl panties and become ready to say the words first, I'll be right the fuck here. I'll even promise not to give you too much shit about it. Now come on. It's mission time, and this one's time sensitive.'

Ren sighed, both from the sudden introduction of yet another job, and the lack of resolution. Again. How many times had they danced around those four little words? Jae made a big deal about understanding her, about knowing what she really wanted; didn't he understand that she couldn't say it first? That it was impossible, a line she couldn't bring herself to cross? If he'd just goddamn said it himself, it'd ease the strain on her mind no end, but Ren got the idea that he enjoyed the tension leaving it all unsaid produced.

He could be a hard man to live with, when he got like that.

'Alright, what-the-fuck-ever,' Ren rolled her eyes. 'What are we fighting now?'

'It's what was in that intel hub we stole on that last mission. You'll never believe it,' Jae grinned, eyes bright. 'We're going after a man in a little blue box, kiddo.'

**************

'A man in a blue box,' Itazu said flatly, trudging step after step across the soft, heavy dirt.

'A man. In a blue box,' Ren agreed flatly, turning on the spot and walking backwards. 'With a little bowtie. Dude, I don't have any fucking clue, any more than you do. Why are we after this thing again?'

'And why are we walking?' Saki added.

'We're walking because it's just over the top of this hill and we don't want to be tipping our hand with noisy air drops,' Jae sighed, tired of having this conversation. 'And we're here at all because that blue box gives off some really weird readings when it phases out of reality.'

'So we're going to find him, and kill him,' Ren grinned sharply. This was territory she was much, much more familiar with. 'What I like.'

'Yeah, I got the feeling that'd interest you, you freak,' Saki grinned, prodding Ren with her elbow. The action turned out to be ill advised, given that Ren was wearing her hardsuit at the time.

'What do you want from me?' Ren shrugged, as Saki winced and rubbed her elbow gingerly. 'I didn't get here by playing nice, y'know?'

'Which doesn't exactly make it better,' Hirasawa said sagely. In a way this was true, but despite the constant low level teasing, the squad no longer considered Ren the hardened killer they had once seen. Early on, she had been treated like a kind of directed weapon; Jae pointed her at whatever needed killing, and then the entire team hoped she didn't backfire.

Now at least, she was a person. The years had softened both sides toward the other; the originally harsh adversarial atmosphere had yielded to a kind of god natured wariness. It wasn't entirely trust; the squad wasn't totally clear on what Shichi was, or what his influence over Ren really was, and simultaneously Ren was so careful with her cultivated image that she was always a little on guard, but it was something. Better than it had been.

As they crested the hill, the entire team froze as one, their radios blaring to life. Just as suddenly, the noise stopped; it had only lasted a few seconds, but years of drills had made them all very familiar with the sound.

'That's the emergency tone for Shikishima, Sir,' Saki said, more an observation than a request for direction.

'I know, but it's stopped,' Jae shrugged. 'It's weird, certainly, but it's probably just a glitch in the system. Now, we've got a mission. Remember that?'

'And I've got visual confirmation,' Ren deadpanned. 'Blue box, just like they said.'

And then she tapped it, rapping on the door just above the handle. In all honesty, she couldn't see why a special forces team had been sent to investigate the damn thing; it looked entirely too retro. Wooden, in fact. The reports had all said "phased in and out of reality," but that seemed very farfetched, now that she was actually in front of the thing. The writing at the top of the thing- in English- marked it as a "Police Box," but even that seemed a little much for such an ignominious device.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 15



'... Can I burn it down? It's made of wood,' Ren deadpanned. 'We came here for something that's wooden.'

'I... Would prefer it if you didn't,' Came a voice from within, as the door cracked open and a floppy-haired head peeked out. 'I mean, I do live in here.'

Soldiers tended to be a jittery lot, when it came right down to it. They had to be; in a world where fighting for one's life was routine, danger could literally be around every corner. Being unprepared or unable to take that killing shot had removed more of Ren's friends from her personal equation than she cared to remember.

And so, when the odd, bow-tie wearing man with the decidedly British tinge to his Japanese stepped out from behind the thin wooden door of... whatever the box was, he found himself at the business ends of the favored weapons of each and every Team 01 soldier. As usual, Ren's were the most impressive.

'Ooh my, you are a well armed lot, aren't you?' The man nattered, apparently unperturbed. 'Well, you can put them down, since I won't be staying.'

'Identify yourself!' Jae barked, the barrel of his rifle trained right over the man's heart. He smiled brightly as he eyed the coldly glinting metal.

'Hello,' He said, with a tiny wave. 'I'm the Doctor.'

'Doctor?' Saki said flatly. The younger woman was pure Japanese, all the way through; she'd never spoken anything else, and so the English word sounded stilted and awkward in her mouth. 'Doctor who?'

'Well, that doesn't matter, really,' The man himself said, rolling his eyes. 'Like I said, I'm not staying. I'm kind of searching for a friend that I seem to have... misplaced, and certain highly scientific processes led me after one of the folk who helped to misplace my friend. I seem to have gotten to her a tad early, but I wish to assure her, she will regret the choices she's going to make.'

'The fuck?' Ren pointed to herself, frowning at the Doctor's sharp glare. 'You talkin' about me, Limey?'

'Oh, you figured that out! Good for you!' He clapped condescendingly. 'And you're wearing biomechanical body armor, judging from the slightly squishy quality of the substrates, I'd assume... spontaneously generated metal compounds from some form of in-body symbiote? Bear in mind, I'm no expert.'

'Listen, fucker-' Ren wound up, raising her guns.

'Oh, don't waste your bullets, I was just leaving,' The Doctor sidled back behind his door, closing it slowly, glaring out at Ren. 'Catch. You. Later.'

As the door closed, Ren growled, 'No, you won't.' She didn't fully understand what had happened there, but she wasn't about to let some asshole in a bowtie threaten her like that.

The group remained grimly silent as the blue box shifted out, groaning like a coin caught in a vacuum cleaner as it did so. A single person was one thing, but there would be little point in firing on something that so clearly didn't want to be anywhere near the spot it currently occupied.

Besides, they had no idea whether their guns would do anything to that damn thing at all. The mission would have to be reported back a failure.

'Well, that was strange,' Jae heaved a sigh as the ship faded from view completely. 'I'm going to enjoy writing up the paperwork on this one...'

'Look on the bright side,' Itazu shrugged. 'We can go straight home, and nobody tried to blow us up like last time, now did they?'

Ren leaned silently against the nearest tree, turning up the opacity on her helmet's visor so she could be alone. Well, she was never really alone with Shichi floating in her blood, but this was as close as she got, these days. She frowned as her interior Heads-Up Display lights clicked on, flooding the interior of her helmet with warm orange light, matching the color of her hardsuit. She started thinking.

What the hell had that been? Time travelers weren't completely unheard of on Uo, but it was true that they usually avoided this time period of it like the plague. That was ominous in and of itself, but it wasn't like regular non-temporal travelers came here much anyway; not since the Terran government had issued those travel advisories warning against the civil war.

And as a completely different matter, never before had a time traveler spoken directly to her like that. Especially not with some weird fuckin' prophetic wisdom about regretting future choices. What did that even mean-

Her mind fell silent and still, her eyes flicking up to her visor, wide and slightly panicked.

Her HUD had entered emergency mode.

'Hel-lo!' An unfamiliar voice drawled in her ear, as a tiny viewing window opened up in the corner of her visor, displaying a grinning blond man, waving manically at whatever camera he was broadcasting from. 'We're going to have a little talk! To that end, I've disabled your incoming and outgoing audio and visual feeds. I want you to concentrate on me, okay?'

'Who the hell are you?!' Ren growled, not recognizing the man from the science division. 'What's going-'

'On? Oh, I'm going on! Walker Ichihara's the name,' The stranger babbled. 'See, you might not know it, but there's a little room on the outskirts of Shikishima that's staffed twenty-four seven with some top notch brains. And some controls for various elements of your suit. Cool, huh? I thought so: when I heard about it, I delayed all my plans just to come find it. You're so interesting, Ren Alexei Syfte...' Those last words came out sharp and dark, a little jab to cement just how much he knew; Ren never gave out her full name.

It was then that she realized that her suit was dead; literally dead, inert and frozen on the spot. This had never happened before, and it made a watery thin wave of panic sweep up Ren's spine. In a very real sense, the suit was her; losing control of it would be like losing control of her skin.

'What are you doing?' She growled, trying to keep the rising dread out of her voice.

'Well, I found a rather interesting array of big, threatening looking buttons, just sitting here behind a locked and guarded door,' Walker turned to a bank of controls. 'All of them connected to the server that controls all the restraint functions on that wonderful little suit of yours. All the limiters on your weapons, all of the internal intelligence's cognitive locks, and, oh yes, even your autopilot.'

That feeling of deep, abiding dread only increased. Of course she had always known that Shichi required a certain degree of offsite processing to keep him under control, but she had always separated that knowledge from her conscious mind; thinking about someone else having access to those parts of her would be highly unsettling to have to deal with, day to day. There was nothing she could do to change things, at least, not until the technology used in Shichi's control and upkeep advanced, and she had been assured that was being worked on.

And now someone else was sitting in her control room, poking at all the buttons.

'Now, where was that specific button I wanted... Ah, yes, there she is...'

Suddenly, her suit whirred back to life; a hundred thousand tiny organic motors and artificial muscles starting up. Her visor flooded with light, swirling test patterns and marching rows of figures quickly giving way to a view of the outside world, bordered by a peculiar red pattern that, if Ren tried her hardest, she could recognize. She had only seen it once, when they were testing the system, but she knew-

'Autopilot mode engaged,' Shichi chirruped in her ear, through her helmet microphone. 'All personnel, stand clear!'

'What are you doing?' Fear rippled through Ren's voice unopposed, as parts of her she had always relied upon betrayed her. The suit began moving on its own, straightening up and turning, laboriously, toward her squad. 'What's going on?!'

'One more little adjustment...' Walker whistled to himself as the tapping of keys filled her helmet's speakers. 'There we go!'

One by one, her squadmates, trusted allies and the closest thing she had to friends, became painted in the red light that, in her personal world, meant a hostile target. When the light hit Jae she gasped, the sound choked off by the constriction of her throat, as her heat pounded in her chest and, slowly, her hands began to move.

'Hostile targets sighted! Preparing ordinance!'

'Wait, no! No, no! Shichi, stop it!' Ren yelled. 'Stop it, I'm right here! Listen to me!'

'That's right, panic for me,' Walker grinned, leaning back in his chair. 'I came all the way out here to see you dance, spent quite a while setting the stage just right... The least you could do is sing nicely for me too.'

'Stop it, for God's sake, stop it!' She growled at him as her wrist mounted guns slid silently from their armored caches. 'Why are you doing this?'

'Fun.'

She knew, then, what she was dealing with. She knew the name, of course; most people knew who Walker Ichihara was. It was hard to forget the name after seeing pictures of his handiwork, but now was the first moment she understood the kind of person she was talking to.

And she knew he wouldn't stop.

'Guys...' Her voice came very close to a sob as Shichi targeted Itazu with both guns simultaneously. They were all just standing there talking, if she couldn't warn them... 'Jae... Run!'

She didn't even know if they could hear her. It was entirely possible that her outbound communications array was still disabled. She could be alone in her head, for all she knew. But she had to do something. Besides, they definitely knew what was happening as the crack of gunfire ripped through the air, and Itazu fell.

'No, no, no! Stop it! Fucking stop it!' Ren pulled uselessly at the controls, as her suit glided gracefully forward, taking Saki by the throat in one hand and squeezing, flesh and bone giving way under the cold, mechanical strength. Her entire body swung around, 'Jae, get the fuck out of here... It's not me, run! Fucking RUN!'

They had started out by yelling at her, silent faces contorting in rage and shock as their voices failed to reach her. Ren was a thousand miles away, locked in a metal coffin, forced to watch as it slaughtered her friends. When they ran, her allies, her targets... she followed.

The image of Jae's back as he fled from her, eyes cast over his shoulder and filled with grim determination to get away, then fear as she closed in, would haunt her nightmares for years. There had been whole years where she had tried resolutely to forget his face, and the shock that ran through her arm as she slashed at his legs with the knife he had given her, his name etched on the blade, burning through his flesh, sending him stumbling to the ground. His blood spattering her visor as Shichi swung the knife up.

Sometimes, when she was alone, she could still hear the scream that ripped out from her own throat as she did that.

*****************

'Walker, are you there?' Her voice was dull and dead, as she sat among the trees, bent and buckled with the force of her attacks. She hadn't taken the return of control of her suit well.

'Yes! I'm right here!' Walker's voice buzzed through her. 'Oh, that was wonderful!'

'Walker, shut up,' Ren said. 'I want you to know something, Walker.'

'Yes?'

'I'm coming for you, Walker Ichihara. You're mine.'

'I sincerely hope that you do, my beautiful, beautiful...'

That smile, eating away at her across the distance. Soulless. Empty. Her prey. All that mattered...

'Monster.'

******************

Present Day

Location: Trismestigius

'I've been waiting for this day, Walker,' Ren snarled, teeth audibly grinding together. 'I'd almost given up hope of ever finding you again.'

'You look well, Ren,' Walker said calmly, idly thumbing a knife that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. 'Of course, you were pretty upset the last time I saw you, so what do I know?'

'Jericho, let me out of this thing,' Ren's eyes remained fixed on Walker, as if to look away, even for a second, would cause him to disappear. She wasn't letting him go, not again.

'Jericho's not working,' Sander said flatly, staring straight ahead. 'We've been played.'

'Besides which, I'm not here for you, Ren,' Walker said. 'I'm here for him. Sander, she's still got that lovely little knife on her. Take it.'

'What for?'

'Well, I'm certainly not going to kill you unarmed, am I?' He waved the tip of his own knife through the air. He'd always felt very comfortable with blades, no matter how outmoded they were as a weapon. 'Take the knife.'

The problem was that there was no other way out of it. Sander wondered exactly how long Walker had been watching them, waiting and planning, building his scenario. How long had it taken him to circulate rumors that Sander Hackett was still alive, just enough to tempt Vesperia's finest out into one last hunt? How long had he been watching in silence, scheming and building up to this? Now, he was trapped, and he'd walked right into the damn thing because he'd been too angry to think straight.

If he took the knife, Walker would try to fight him, and he would win, no doubt. Sander had only won last time because he'd had the benefit of surprise and a sturdy cloaking device. In a stand up fight, the man with the most experience won and Sander, for all the self defense classes his father had made him take as a teenager, didn't really have the mettle to take down a man who killed for fun.

But walking away was no option either, given Walker's control over the base's defense systems. He could simply freeze Sander in place and kill him at his leisure. Not a comforting thought, but there it was...

Really, all he had left was Dulcimer's one sentence promise of assistance. Did he trust the Dullahan enough to gamble his life on that? Not like he had much choice.

He stepped forward, avoiding Ren's eyes as his fingers reached for her shoulder sheathe. She struggled as much as she could, pulling away as far as the zero-point beam that encircled her would allow.

'Sander, don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare!' She roared. 'He's mine! I have to be the one to kill him!'

'I'm sorry, but we don't exactly have a lot of options here,' He answered softly, the rage burning in her eyes telling him all he needed to know; there was nothing he could say that would make this better for her. Silently, he pulled the knife from the sheathe and held it as delicately as possible. It had weight to it, it was a weapon made specially for someone who would actually know how to use it. He'd never noticed the writing engraved on the blade before, even though Ren had a habit of toying with the thing when she got bored.

He didn't know what made her so insanely angry at Walker, but he could tell, it was a hate than ran deep into her bones. Sander didn't want to be around immediately after this was all over, even assuming he was the one who would survive this. And that was quite a leap to make.

'Sander, don't do this, it has to be me!' Ren's eyes flickered, almost close to pleading, which was surprising in itself. 'I have to be the one to do it. Please!'

He turned his back on her. It hurt to do so- both for who he was turning away from, and who he was turning to face- but it was the only option he had. Even if he found some way to get out of this, it wouldn't just be him. With Kana out of the picture there would be no way to get Jericho back to himself in any kind of timely manner, and there was simply no way of knowing how many of Walker's soldiers were still out there. And it wasn't like Walker himself would simply leave his crew be if Sander decided to jump ship now. He had to do this.

'Just so you know,' He said, sighing and raising Ren's troublingly large knife. 'If we fight, I'm gonna lose.'

'I know,' Walker nodded. 'But I'm not asking you to win, I'm asking you to fight. I know you're angry about what I've done to the programmer, about what I've done to her sister over there... And how all of this is affecting your little girlfriend. My former conquest. Show me that rage, Sander Hackett. Let me feel it.'

As the two approached each other, Sander began to realize just how little room to maneuver there was up here. When he had built Elsa's headstone here, he hadn't considered this place from a convenience standpoint; in his mind, nobody but he himself would ever come here. Even seeing Walker and Ren up here was a violation, as though they were intruding on something deep within him. He wanted to finish it just because of that, though he knew where it was probably going to go.

'Come on, come on,' Walker hissed, under his breath. 'Hit me!'

Sander swung with the knife, but it was a half-hearted thing; he'd never fought with a knife before, and he was honestly of the opinion that Walker's invitation was just a petty trick to get him within arm's reach.

'No,' Walker admonished, as Sander's swing terminated and his arm returned to the compact fighting stance he had been trained to use. 'Use a little passion. I carved up your friend like a damn roast! Try to kill me!'

Sander's teeth ground together as he swung again, putting some genuine force behind it. Walker laughed, stepping easily to one side and grabbing Sander's arm, pulling him in. Pain blossomed just under his ribs.

'Oh damn,' Walker sighed, stepping away from Sander's next misaimed attempt at cutting Walker. 'I seem to have gotten too enthusiastic again. My apologies, Sander. I know you wanted this to go on a little longer.'

'Okay, yes. Getting stabbed, probably should have prepared myself a little more for that,' Sander groaned through gritted teeth. It seemed like a shallow cut, but it hurt like hell and bled in rather unsettling amounts. What hurt more was the shape of the future he could see in that cut; there were more coming.

'Sander, I'm a little disappointed!' Walker rolled his eyes. 'I came all this way, planned this out so well, and this is the best you can do? I'd hoped for so much more.'

'Yeah, all that's still really... Oh, I don't feel like small talk with a maniac anymore. Fuck it,' Sander sighed, blood seeping through the fingers he kept clasped to his chest. It was very hard to think straight with an open wound and the prospect of more in the immediate future.

Still, as Walker stepped in with a flourish and a chuckle, clearly enjoying this far too much, Sander made another less than enthusiastic slice with his knife, hoping against hope that whatever it was that Dulcimer was planning wasn't, in fact, merely a stress induced hallucination and would happen soon.

'I love you, Sander,' Walker said softly, laying in with the blade of his own weapon. Sander exhaled sharply as the point dug into his shoulder, frighteningly deep. This time, the pain was positively paralyzing. He snarled with bestial fury, his target within arm's reach for the first time; it was an unfortunate opportunity he wasn't going to waste.

'We are not friends!' Sander growled, throwing his balled fist up into Walker's jaw with enough force to send the man spinning away, knife sliding out of Sander's shoulder as he did so. The blade of his own knife caught the madman on the arm as they separated, biting into the flesh and drawing blood.

Okay, that cut to the shoulder was a bad one, that's gonna bleed. Getting woozy...

'Sander, I've figured it out,' Dulsie's voice clanged through his head. 'Let's do it.'

'Whoa!' Sander straightened up suddenly, blood dripping between his fingers. 'That's an interesting sensation!'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 15



'You like that?' Dulsie laughed, clearly trying to avoid the topic of multiple stabbings. 'Told you I had your back. Sorry it took so long, but everyone's here now. All you need to do is get in close and touch him.'

'Right, because that's so easy...' He huffed, keeping a tight grip on Ren's knife. He muttered, 'Dulsie, you'd better know what you're doing, damn it...'

Behind him, Ren had become oddly silent, though he didn't dare turn around and give Walker unrestricted access to his back just to find out why. He took a few faltering steps forward, toward the enemy that had just stabbed him twice in as many minutes. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Dulcimer, and in fact he could feel her doing something in the back of his head, but, well... the idea of getting any closer to Walker right now went directly against every survival instinct he had.

'You'll be alright, we'll only need a second. You're acting as my conduit, but the minute you touch him we can hit him with all seven of us at once.'

'What does that even mean?' He hissed to himself.

'I'm directly linked with everyone else here, through the Dust. But Walker's unfamiliar, I can't hit him as easily as I can the rest of you. The minute you touch him I'll get a direct link, and I can funnel... the rest of us right into his head. Let's see how the crazy bastard handles that one.'

'Will that work?'

'Historically, having any more than one mind in your head at any one time doesn't end well, no. I might be able to handle it, but a Dullahan is orders of magnitude above a human. No offense.'

'None taken,' Sander thought drily. Theoretically, it could work. He had watched it work once before, back when the Doctor had been on his tenth regeneration and Donna Noble had taken on aspects of a Time Lord's consciousness. It had almost killed her, and Sander couldn't help the thrill of delight that went through him at remembering the sadness that had caused the Doctor. He could truly be a malicious bastard sometimes.

Just one touch? Alright. It's not like a third stab wound could make things worse by this point...

'Hey Walker?' His eyes glittered malevolently. 'C'mere. Give Sander a hug.'

He threw himself forwards. The things he did for his crew sometimes...

Mentally, he had prepared himself, so the moment the knife slipped in between his ribs with another whip crack of agony, he was ready for it. He pressed on in spite of it, a low growl escaping his throat as one hand wrapped around Walker's throat, bearing them both down to the ground, knocking Elsa's headstone completely free of its moorings. It fell to one side as Walker cackled in delight.

'Got him!'

Sander opened his mouth to offer one final quip through the pain burning in his chest, but his voice was stopped by the sudden inrush of sensation, as powerful as a bomb going off in his mind. Walker was making little choking sounds.

In sequence, Sander felt six sets of memories slam into him, one by one. His most trusted allies, souls laid bare, flowing through him like an electric charge on their way to obliterate Walker's mind. He caught little snippets, like half faded photographs, that stuck with him even as he quickly forgot so much more:

Mara, still deeply afraid of Walker, fleeing from Vesperia in disgrace because he had set her up to take the fall for his crimes.

Kanaria, comatose and immersed in nightmares filled with swinging feet and shattered pride.

Tsugi, deeply lonely behind his disinterested façade.

Lysithea, mind still echoing with the screams of the dying, sealed off from the rest of her species for fear of hearing them again.

Ren, the soldier, so angry and out for blood. Guilt and rage, bound together in one frighteningly strong package.

Dulcimer, fleeing from her responsibilities to her species, free and joyous, yet guilty at the state she'd left her kind in. And, more importantly... pursued.

When it was over, Sander couldn't tell how much time had passed. His whole body ached, as though he had just run a marathon, though the multiple stabbings might have contributed to that. His vision cleared slowly, revealing Walker, caked in Sander's blood and staring out from sunken eyes vacantly into space, pale as the grave.

'Sander?' Ren's voice from behind him, concerned and oddly excited, filled with anticipation. 'You okay?'

'Got stabbed, Ren, so I'm gonna go with... no,' Sander said weakly, shaking. 'How much blood can a person safely lose, anyway?'

Ren did actually answer, and given her weight of experience with blood and things related to it, he might have done well to listen to her, but her voice was drowned out in a haze of pain and blood loss, and Sander found himself unable to support his own weight. He fell to one side, landing weakly on his back beside... whatever of Walker was left, panicked that his enemy might merely be unconscious and would get up soon, but unable to stop his own slow slide into delirium.

He heard Ren swearing, just before he passed out, and wondered exactly how much unfinished business he'd left for the people around him to deal with this time. Oddly, his last thought came in the form of a put-upon sigh, as he realized he probably didn't have the time or energy for two lifelong vendettas, should it turn out that Walker was still alive.

As he bled out in the dirt, he found this a hugely unsatisfying last thought to have had.

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 16



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello everyone, we're back with another chapter! And this one has the canon characters back in the spotlight! Yay!

Seriously though, I'm rather glad the action oriented stuff I've been doing lately is over with. It was fun for a while, but it's time to get back to normal. Though this chapter is a tad... kinkier than usual. Not to mention surreal in places. And that's all down to my sub, LogicalDreamer, who was utterly insistent it play out like this. Good for her for sticking to her guns, I suppose. Also need to thank Isabel and Allyourbase for conceptualizing and editing help. Thanks, guys!

Please comment or vote if you liked, or disliked, or whatevered, the story, and I hope y'all enjoy it!

Kurokami

***************

'I taught you how to do that,' Sera pushed her hair over one shoulder. 'Because you needed to know. Rather, you were observed to have known. Time travel is strange. But I've upheld my end of the paradox, so I'm done for now. Walker is... disabled, and Ren made too much of an impact on the soldiers he brought for them to plan a repeat performance. They should know that you are defended, now.'

'Who are you, really?' Dulcimer sent, trying to pry into the teenager's mind as she did so. It wasn't something she freely admitted to being able to do, and likewise it wasn't something she did very often, since it was a violation. And this girl looked to be only eighteen, so far removed from the solid centuries she herself had lived. Still, her appearance here, and he knowledge of the future was troubling. She needed to know.

'I'm nobody important, just for now,' Sera shrugged, enjoying the feeling of air on her face. Her Chronosuit was good for many things, and it made her job oh so much simpler, but it wasn't exactly comfortable eveningwear. There were air filters and circulators inside her suit that at least made the skintight space livable, but nothing in that matched the simple pleasure of the open air. And Trismestigius had some wonderful breezes.

Part of her wished she could simply stay.

'I'm just a simple Time Agent,' She winked knowingly at the Dullahan. 'And stop trying to read my mind, we've all been trained to resist psychic intrusions. You won't get through, as impressive as your effort is. Now, you need to go and get Mister Hackett to the medical lab before he bleeds out. Nat should already be working to disable the zero-point generators and Em's on getting Jericho back in control, so you should be clear for now. Just try to get everything secured as quickly as possible and don't let Sander Hackett die up there. Oh, and you can keep that Dust trick in mind for the future, if you like. Who knows when it will come in handy again?'

'You do,' Dulsie sent flatly, causing Sera to giggle.

'Well, yes,' She grinned. 'Good luck, alright?'

Her helmet clacked shut as her bodysuit lit up and, with the sound of a groaning TARDIS, she vanished.

***************

Sander awoke to the dazzling sight of the pure white med lab ceiling. He squinted against it, screwing his eyes closed and groaning as his chest pulsed with agony in time with his heartbeat. He knew better than to try sitting up.

'Ah, you are awake,' Jericho said, the blue glow of his hologram bright enough to be visible through Sander's eyelids. 'That is good. I was beginning to get worried.'

'What happened? How is-'

'Let me assuage your concerns: Walker is no longer a problem, I am back in control of the installation, and you are going to be fine,' Jericho said soothingly as Sander opened his eyes. 'Mara, Tsugi and Kanaria are in the next room, just down the hall,' His voice filled with concern at the mention of that last name.

'How is she?' Sander looked down, sighing helplessly at the three blue nanomachine bandages stuck down to his wounds; he'd be perfectly fine in no time at all. The level of injury Kana had sustained... he doubted it would be the same.

'Stable...' Jericho said, a little more softly than usual. 'Though she did lose a lot of blood. We made quite a dent in our artificial transfusion bank to replace it, but she'll live. However, I am still awaiting the last few metrics from the diagnostic software before I can make a proper prediction as to her chances.'

'I'd better go see how she is,' Sander said, wincing in pain as he sat up, heaving his legs off of the bed. He stood, unsteadily at first, gingerly avoiding moving too much and agitating his cuts. 'Yeah, this is going to be fun...'

As he slipped out into the hallway, Sander noted with interest that it was morning now. He wondered precisely how long he had been out, and what the rest of his crew had been doing in that time. He took a moment to take a deep breath and straighten himself up before he entered the next room, mentally preparing himself for what he might see beyond.

It was silent here, grim and austere, as Kanaria lay almost lifeless in the bed at the center of the room. She was connected to a number of machines that monitored her life signs and dripped artificially created blood into her veins. Her throat was wrapped tight in the same blue, nanomachine soaked bandages that adorned Sander's chest; these were perfect for sewing up tears in the flesh, but depending on how much damage had been wrought on her, she would need something far more complex to heal her completely.

And she was in this situation because of him...

'Uh, hey...' He said softly, unwilling to even enter the room until Mara gave him the okay; she sat, completely absorbed in her little sister, so silent and still that Sander felt he was intruding even by speaking up as he had.

'Sander!' She leapt to her feet, threw herself at him.

'Whoa, whoa, still not fully healed over here!' He winced as she slammed into him. 'Be gentle with me.'

'Not if you insist on being a fucking idiot!' Mara snapped, poking him in the chest. 'Literally everything you did out there was stupid!'

'Didn't really have a whole lot of choice,' He felt himself breathe deeply, allowing himself to fully relax for the first time that day. He still didn't know all the facts, about anything that had gone on since he had fought with Walker, but... here she was. Here was Mara, and although he couldn't say she was entirely happy, not with Kana the way she was, at least she was here. She wasn't somewhere else, she wasn't feeling the need to be out there working; at least that said a few things about their overall situation that were positive.

'I know...' She said softly, arms wrapping around him, drawing him closer. 'And look what happened.'

'Hey, I'm fine,' He said, holding onto the only solid thing he had. He sighed, knowing there really wasn't a whole lot of time to be standing here, holding his girl, much as he'd like to, 'But I need to know what's been happening. How's Kana?'

'She'll live, but Walker cut her deep,' Tsugi said flatly, glaring at Sander. 'It looks like he completely severed her vocal chords. I'm no doctor, but I doubt she'll ever speak again. Still, it's good to see some of us made it out of this unscathed. Boss.'

'What, are you blaming me for this?' Sander said. 'Weren't you with her? I dunno, maybe you can see this, but the woman I was with is still perfectly fine!'

'Sander!' Mara gasped, and Sander remembered, just a little too late, that the woman they were fighting about was her sister.

'He was here for you, Sander!' Tsugi stood suddenly. 'You started this, he escalated! Far as I'm concerned, this is your responsibility. I'm out.'

He stalked out of the room, the door sliding closed behind him. Sander closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into Mara, feeling the heat and pressure of her against him and drawing reassurance from that. It hurt, and in more ways than just the physical. If he was being honest with himself, this was a possibility he'd never even considered. And it was his fault. He hadn't needed to go after Walker in the first place, it hadn't been necessary to set this all in motion, but he had.

He had conceived of this place, built Trismestigius up from a simple, uninhabited rock spinning through the darkness, into a refuge for himself and Mara; a place for them to escape the past and strive toward the only objective that mattered to them now. When it had become clear that two would not be enough to run it efficiently, they had found like minded people to help them and, happily, Mara's sisters had been more than willing to come too.

And of course it had occurred to him that nobody just up and leaves everything they had ever known just because a sister, or a friend, or an acquaintance asks. Especially given the stakes involved in the war they would become a part of. Sander had always been prepared for the idea that his entire crew were running, the same as he was. Seeing fragments of their memories when he had been linked to them through Dulcimer had only confirmed that, but...

Why did it have to be his past that had caught up to them all so terribly?

'Tsugi's right,' He whispered. 'This is my responsibility. So I'll have to deal with it. Where's Walker?'

'We stowed him in one of the available cells. You'd better go and see for yourself, but he's... not a threat anymore,' Mara said. 'Which is something Ren is really pissed at you for.'

'Well, at least that'll be something new,' Sander deadpanned. 'Soldiers?'

'Gone. They decided their revenge wasn't worth getting slaughtered over.'

'Okay, good...' He paused, casting around for something, anything to say, before finally settling on: 'Fuck!'

'I know, I know, this situation is severely lacking in the goodness department. But it's not your fault, honey,' Mara persisted, gripping his hand just a little too tightly. In all of this, Sander had found it all too easy to forget that Mara had just as much reason to be terrified of Walker as he himself did, if not more. She had lived with the guy for years, she knew him the best, which was, in its own way, terrifying. 'You didn't cause this, Walker did. And you need to go see him.'

'But what about-'

'You need to go see him, Hackett,' Mara stopped him with a shake of her head. 'Trust me, you'll feel a little better once you do, and besides, Kana's not going anywhere,' There was a slight tremor in her voice as she looked back toward her stricken sister. 'We won't know if there's even anything we can do for her until Jericho's finished with the diagnosis program, so we need to be patient. Hey, for all we know, she might just need the same nanopack treatment you've got going on, sir. Very styling, by the way.'

She offered a weak smile, that he returned hesitantly. It seemed wrong somehow, like joking didn't fit, even to relieve the tension. In truth, he looked forward to seeing Walker again about as much as he looked forward to a root canal, but Mara was right; it had to be done. He wouldn't be able to sleep again until he saw that man completely disabled and unable to even touch one of his crew ever again.

'Okay, I'll go,' He sighed, wincing again as he thoughtlessly rolled his perforated shoulder. As he turned to go, he found himself tugged in the other direction. He gave Mara a questioning look.

'I'm... going with you,' She said tremulously. 'Not... not gonna let you out of my sight for a while, Hackett.'

Silently, he leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her cheek before wrapping her hand fully in his own and leading her out the door. He chanced only the briefest look back at Kanaria's comatose form before it slid closed behind him, frown deepening slightly as a result. It didn't matter what Mara told him, there was simply no way to avoid blaming himself for this one.

Sensibly, the medical labs were but a stone's throw away from the cell hub. Sander had predicted a certain level of danger inherent in his plans when he had designed this place- or set the architectural programs to do so, at any rate. Anything from a captive rebellion or individual escape attempts through to a drastic malfunction in the Eternity Engine had been accounted for, and the conclusion that all involved had come to had been simple: make sure there were bandages real close by.

There was only a short corridor keeping he and Mara from Walker, which in some ways was a small mercy; more time spent in transit meant more time to agonize over the confrontation to come. However, this limited travel time also put them unavoidably in Ren's path.

Mara's older sister was ambling up the hallway sullenly, and Sander found himself remarkably unwilling to be around her at the moment. When he looked at the Half, all he could remember, all he could see, was the image of that monstrous other form, streaking up toward him, eyes glinting with heavy red bloodlust. That screeching mechanical roar, and the pleading, desperate woman within, begging him to find some way, any way, to let her kill Walker.

He wouldn't even know the first thing to say to her.

'Oh, it's you,' She said darkly, as he approached. 'How are things, boss?'

'Better,' Sander answered with an inadvisable degree of venom. He knew this, yet his temper spurred him on; after Tsugi's reaction, the last thing he needed was a second accusatory comrade, 'Especially after taking down that psychotic murderer who carved up your sister, Ren.'

With a barely restrained growl, mismatched eyes flashing angrily, Ren drew back her arms and pushed him, ramming Sander bodily against the wall. Pain blossomed in his chest as his wounds shuddered with the force of the blow, still nowhere near fully healed.

'Ren!' Mara exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to pull the two of them apart.

'You just shut the fuck up, Sander!' Ren snarled savagely, her face inches from his. 'So what if you beat that slimy son of a bitch? He was MINE!'

'Should I be sorry?' Sander tried not to flinch, but it was hard. His mind kept spinning back to what he had seen of the soldiers left in her wake. How hard would it be for her to repeat that process? He was just one guy, but still... 'Should I apologize? I don't know what idiotic bullshit Walker did to you to make you hate him so much, but I'm not going to feel bad for protecting myself, my home and my friends! And that includes you, by the way! Grow up!'

It truly looked, for a moment, like she was about to hit him. No, it looked like she was about to kill him, as her younger sister tried to pry her away from him. Those red and blue eyes went horribly, dangerously hard, like diamonds forged under intense pressure. That gaze alone would probably kill a lesser man. Her fingers dug into the skin at the base of his neck, coming far too close to his throat for comfort. It seemed to cause her a great deal of pain to tear herself away from him, but eventually she did release him, allowing him to slide breathlessly down the wall, glaring at her the entire way.

'Shall I tell you why I even came here, Sander?' Ren said flatly, distantly. 'Because a person doesn't just surrender whatever she's got going on to come out to the middle of nowhere, even if her beloved little sister asks. When she did ask, I'll admit I was intrigued. Come out and visit me, she said. I've got a new boyfriend with a little business venture that could use a mechanic, and you're the best I know, she said. Come and kill a Time Lord, she said. That bit got my blood flowing, for sure. But it wasn't enough, not to give up everything. It wasn't as important to me as what I was doing.'

She shifted, placing both feet firmly on the ground for the first time since the confrontation had begun, and pointed to Sander, 'But then she told me: this mysterious boyfriend was Sander Hackett. He's dead, I told her. No, he's not, she said. Everyone just thinks so. I can trust you with that information, can't I, Ren? Yeah, she could trust me, even though there are plenty of people who would pay pretty handsomely for that little tidbit. Why? Well, there's a few things everybody knows about Sander Hackett, former governor of Vesperia: genocide, that's an obvious one. Xenocide, which you humans seem to think is so much worse. And CEO of Hackett Industries, which would make him, oh... very, very rich, even if he was dead. Guy like that, apparently real smart to go along with deceitful, he'd have a little cash stashed away here and there. That alone was enough to make me pack up everything I had and come out to this backwater moon.'

Her voice caught in her throat, and she looked away. Through the curtain of her hair, Sander could see the look in her eyes, and it became very apparent to him; here was a woman holding within her a truly incredible expanse of pure pain.

'Because there was one thing, just one favor, that I was going to ask you when we were done with this and you'd won, Sander,' She said finally. 'I was going to ask you to please... find me Walker Ichihara, and get me to him. He's my loose end, guys. His life... it's what I wanted, more than anything else. You'd got me that, I would have been in your debt forever. But you killed him first, and now I'll never... Jae will... damn it...'

She trailed off, freezing on the spot for a moment before shaking her head with a vicious, rattling sigh. Wordlessly, actively avoiding eye contact with Sander or Mara, she walked away, pushing past her sister to head down the hallway, and into Kanaria's room. Sander stared, unable to make out what much of that had truly meant, but aching empathetically with the older woman. One thing was clear; she knew as much about loss as he did, and she was taking it out on the universe in the same way. He didn't know the specifics, but it was crystal clear: Sander Hackett and Ren Syfte were very much alike.

'Honestly, I don't know what she was talking about, there,' Mara said quietly. 'She never talks about herself, especially not what happened after she left Vesperia.'

'She's Vesperian?'

'Yeah, we all are. Our parents came down with the initial colony drop, way before we were born. Technically, all three of us are more Vesperian than you are, Hackett,' She nudged him.

'Huh,' Sander tilted his head a little. 'So, the upshot is... we've got an angry, apparently amazingly powerful, very twitchy... whatever Ren is hanging around where we live. That's... unsettling.'

'Everything about what we do is unsettling,' Mara said without skipping a beat. 'You really want to start analyzing it now?''

'Okay yeah,' Sander laughed, just a little. 'Good point.'

***************

Even though Walker was entirely motionless, Sander was unwilling to approach him too closely. He hadn't known the man for very long, but he felt safe in assuming he would set a trap like this, just waiting for Sander to lower his guard.

'He's been like this ever since the cliff,' Lysithea said, clearly unwilling to get too close to the murderer herself. Apparently, she had drawn guard duty, which she wasn't entirely crazy about. Whenever she looked at the still man, peering out vacantly from beneath his blond fringe, her eyes burned with silent, tranquil fury. Sander had never seen her like this before.

Not that Sander himself wasn't still furious. With entirely justified caution, he sidled closer, step by step until he stood before Walker. He didn't move, even as Sander lifted his face with one hand, and stared into the glassy eyes that had once housed such malicious, chilling intelligence. Sander's teeth ground together; somehow, this still wasn't enough. He wanted more. His mind swam with images of Kanaria, cut and bleeding out on the floor. Of Mara, forced from her home so many years before to some lawless backwater world, all because of the man in front of him. Of Ren, angered to the point of insanity at a mere glimpse of his face.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 16



Of his friends, threatened and attacked and hurt, all just to see Sander squirm. All to make him angry.

Mission fucking accomplished.

His free hand curled into a fist and swung out, unbidden. There was a satisfyingly meaty thud as it connected, but maddeningly, Walker didn't even react. His face had turned with the blow, eyes now staring straight ahead in a different direction, but that was the extent of the change. It didn't exactly make Sander feel better, and frankly he doubted it did so for anyone else, either.

'What happened to him?' He said flatly.

'Dulcimer said his mind's been burnt out,' Lysithea answered. 'She flooded his consciousness with everything we had, basically one big telepathic bitch slap. Jericho's brain scans confirmed it, he's brain dead.'

'Didn't I get the same treatment?' Sander asked. 'Why aren't I... like that?'

'You'd have to ask Dulsie herself, but I think the idea is that you were only the focusing node, like a relay station for the telepathic signal. So yes, you got bits and pieces, possibly flashes of memory, but you were really only the messenger. Walker got the full treatment, and it erased his entire personality.'

'Good riddance,' Mara said soberly.

'Did you...' Sander trailed off momentarily, as his mind alighted on a particular phrase Lysithea had used. 'Did we all get pieces of each other's memories? Or was I the only one to see all that?'

'I saw it,' Mara answered immediately.

'Yes, we all did. It's an unfortunate side effect of the process,' Lysithea nodded.

'I think we need to call a team meeting,' Sander sighed. 'I get the feeling this is something we need to get on top of. As well as how to deal with him.'

He looked down at Walker, watching the shell of the man stare back at him, emotionless and pale. There was nothing behind those eyes now, and it disturbed him utterly. He found it hard to concentrate in Walker's presence, and a part of his mind had been working to figure out why that was. He knew, now; this creature was an empty shell, a being with human form that lacked any kind of human qualities or emotion. Sander understood madness better than most, and what truly unsettled him about Walker now was...

His exterior finally matched what Sander had always imagined his mind to be like.

*************

'Okay...' Sander sighed, casting his eyes around the room. His crew- those of them that were able to stand, at least- had gathered by the cell hub. Despite all the evidence he had received so far, he was unwilling to let Walker completely out of his sight, and so his crew had arrayed themselves around the room while simultaneously giving the murderer's cell door a wide berth.

'So, we've had a tough couple of days, huh?' He said, though honestly he knew it wasn't the right thing to say. Then again, the actual right thing completely eluded him; in all likelihood, there was no right thing that could be said here. It wasn't every day that armed strangers tried to kill him; he could actively see it freaking the hell out of every one of his crew.

'That's putting it lightly,' The snark was clearly felt in Dulcimer's message, as the Dullahan herself folded her arms over her chest. She was turned away from the rest of the group, which had always presented a unique challenge to Sander's mind; she didn't have a face, so it wasn't like she was deliberately avoiding eye contact. Her range of vision was so much wider than his own, it was entirely possible she was just sitting in a way that was comfortable, and he was imposing his own, human-centric notion of etiquette onto what was for her a perfectly acceptable position. 'Sander, I'd like it if you didn't put me in a position where I'm forced to enter the mind of a blatant psychopath, in future. It makes me feel unclean.'

'It's not exactly something I was crazy about either, Dulsie,' He said, wondering what it was that was making him so defensive. He kept telling himself, it only felt like it was his fault...

'But he was here for you, boss,' Tsugi seemed to have calmed down a little from his earlier stress, but his discomfort and anger was still evident. 'How many more knife wielding crazy assholes will we be seeing? If I remember my history, you made a lot of enemies when you were out and about, Sander.'

'I've already got Jericho on that,' Sander said quickly, perhaps a little sharper than he had wanted. 'Tracking down the rumors Walker spread that I'm still alive and counteracting them in any way he can. At the end of the day he's a clever little program, we all know he'll come through for us. I'll be dead again soon.'

'But why did he even come here?' Lysithea asked. As one, Sander, Mara and Ren swung around to stare at the Trine-form. It was easy to forget that, of all of them, Lysithea was the individual least connected to Walker. His motivations, as insane and incomprehensible as they were, would be completely inaccessible to her.

'He came here for me, or at least, that's what he used as justification,' Sander said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. 'But in the end, he just likes making people suffer. Walker Ichihara... we did a good thing by taking him out of the world. He fixated on me-'

'He wanted to see how you looked when you were angry. What you were like when you're in pain,' Ren said abruptly. 'It's the same thing he did to me. He saw my suit, saw something he found interesting, and went out of his way to see it burn.'

'He fixates on people,' Mara added. 'Even when we were together, he used to fixate. You could see it happening, if you paid attention. Het get a guy in his sights, and then... that was all he'd care about.'

'Sounds like someone I know,' Tsugi said with understated venom, throwing a significant look at Sander.

'Yeah, you'd think I'd learn from that,' He snapped back.

'Alright, stop that, children,' Mara hissed. 'Yes, we did just get attacked by a very crazy murderer and his cadre of gun-toting, revenge-obsessed mercenaries. That happened. I was there. But we all know it wasn't exactly Sander's fault that that happened. It kind of was, but who the fuck accounts for this kind of shit when they do things? It wasn't exactly predictable, now was it?'

'I was taken by surprise, yes,' Lysithea nodded. 'It was very surprising.'

'Well, it's over now. And who was it that fought for us, there?'

Ren raised her hand. Tsugi pointed to Ren. Even Sander threw up his hands and shook his head in Mara's direction, as if to say "not getting involved in this one. Not one bit."

'Well, fine!' Mara sighed, giving everyone else in the room the finger in quick succession. 'Be that way. But Sander still took Walker down, in the end. Remember that.'

'Actually...' Dulcimer began, her mental "voice" sounding a little reluctant to be bringing this up. 'We all did. Which wasn't the best solution to the problem, I know. But it was the best I had available at the time...'

There was a distinct tone of insincerity there, and not for the first time Sander wondered about the nature of telepathic projection; was Dulcimer even capable of hiding a lie from others, if every last thing she communicated to others spilled directly from her mind into theirs? How must it be, living in that brain of hers, knowing that to reach out and speak to another was to link them directly into her consciousness? How did she trust anyone?

'Yeah, we do need to talk about that one,' Sander said, taking a step forward. 'Look, it's probably obvious to all of you by now that what we experienced when Dulcimer linked us all together were fragments of each other's memories, out of context and jumbled around, but nevertheless... memories.'

There was silence, and it was uncomfortable. Sander got the sense that- and this was certainly what he himself was doing- his crew was wondering precisely what memory of theirs everyone else had been privy to. What did they know? How much of it did they understand? What did they think of what they had seen? Was it even worth asking?

'Listen guys, we've known each other for the better part of three years now, we've lived together, worked together... whatever trouble's going to be dumped on us because of what we're doing now, you'd better believe we'll be suffering it equally,' Sander looked around the room darkly, feeling the discomfort practically radiating from his friends. 'So I'm pretty comfortable in saying that I've got a lot of faith in us as a unit. We're all in this together, we all have exactly the same amount of dirt on the others as they have on us, so I'm confident that together, together, people... we can never talk about what we saw. Ever.'

'What?' Ren laughed, and Sander was grateful for even that slight break in the tension of the room. He saw smiles, small and weak but undeniably there, spread on the faces of his crew, and he felt himself relax a little in turn. Finally, a bit of levity...

'Look, I sure as shit don't need to know about all your dirty laundry, folks. In much the same way as I doubt you'll want to hear about mine,' He felt himself smiling, wondering all the way whether or not it was the appropriate expression. 'If you wanted to talk about it... well, it's not like any of us are particularly shy about expressing what we want.'

'He means we're all loud, rude fuckers,' Ren supplied helpfully.

'Yes, that,' Sander pointed and nodded. 'Good one. What I'm saying is... don't bother sharing. None of us consented to having our memories shared out like fucking Halloween candy, we sure as hell don't want to be questioning the people around us now. Let it go, guys. If you really want to talk about it, then make sure the person you spill to wants that too. And for god's sake, don't come to me, because I really don't give a fuck.'

'Ah, that's my man...' Mara added sagely, grinning.

'Oh, actually,' He snapped his fingers. 'I do care about one little thing. Ren, your weird... suit-ey... armor thing. Is it dangerous? To us, I mean?'

'Only if I let it...' Ren grinned dangerously, causing the skin to crawl on the back of Sander's neck. 'You betcha it's dangerous.'

'Alright then...' He squeaked. 'Now, the other thing we need to discuss... What do we do with Walker, guys?'

'Kill him,' Most of the crew said immediately, displaying the true dangers of group thinking. Problem was, Sander couldn't really produce a reason for why they shouldn't do that.

'Who cares?' Ren said flatly, turning away.

'Ren, you threaten to kill me when I use the last of the milk,' Tsugi said. 'What gives?'

'Look, he's brain dead already, right?' She sighed, frowning deeply. 'Surprisingly, murder is only a means to an end, and my end there was to see him suffer. I was gonna draw it out, watch him squirm a little... Kind of pointless since we snapped his mind like a fuckin' twig.'

'That is... Utterly distressing,' Lysithea said. 'Why not simply airlock him? After all, it's not as if there's any point to keeping him alive, and besides, I don't want to risk the effect wearing off and him coming back into himself.'

'She's got a point,' Mara shrugged. 'A cold, mercenary point, but a point nonetheless. Jericho!'

'Yes, Mara?' The Smart A.I's hologram flickered to life like a starburst in the center of the room. 'How may I assist?'

'We need to dump a body.'

'Yes, I was listening. I shall guide... that thing to an emergency pod and launch it forthwith,' Jerry shifted his non-existent weight a little, looking deeply uncomfortable. 'Addendum: I have completed my diagnosis of Miss Kanaria.'

'What's the news, Doc?' Sander leaned forward a little, heart racing. He didn't know what he would do if...

'The news is... Mixed,' The hologram said. 'She will live, and in fact is entirely stable. There is no reason why she could not wake up within the hour. However, in the process of slitting her throat, Walker completely severed her vocal chords. There is no way to repair this. Miss Kanaria will not speak again. I am sorry.'

For a moment, Jericho looked to be the saddest person in the room, before he flickered and faded away. The more physically present members of the crew sat in silence, unwilling to look Ren or Mara in the eye. There is nothing more potent than shared guilt, in its ability to burn away any hope of a coherent conversation.

'No,' Sander said simply, shaking his head and practically launching himself at the far door. 'Jericho, meet me in my office. I want the schematics for the nanomed patches, a medical guide to the human trachea, and my access directory to my old Hackett Industries prototypes loaded up by the time I get there. Go!'

'Sander, what are you doing now?' Ren growled. 'Haven't you done enough?'

'Ren, go and warm up the manufacturing center. I'll try not to be too long,' It wasn't a happy smile on Sander's face, but an oddly contented one; the kind people get when the path ahead finally becomes clear. 'Tsugi, I'll need you to double check my figures when they come through. I'm not going to discount the fact that I might be an idiot, just because I'm determined.' He was practically skipping out the door, turning back only at the last second, 'And to answer your next question, yes. I'm going to make Kanaria a new voice. Because she doesn't deserve this. Because she shouldn't suffer for a petty feud between myself and Walker. And because fuck it, I'm Sander Hackett.'

*******

It had gotten to the point where Amy was actually surprised to see her cell door opening. Granted, clearly something had gone on over the past few days; those mystery men with the guns were easily proof of that, but it still seemed all kinds of ridiculous that nobody had come to check up on her since then. She dreaded to think what might have happened if Jericho hadn't been around to look after her; she might have starved.

So, though she was naturally wary of Sander's presence in her doorway, it was human contact, which was something. The way he slumped into the room, eyes heavy lidded, was... certainly new.

'Amy...' He whined childishly, waving his arms in an ineffectual manner. 'I'm tired and victorious. Come over here...'

She eyed him carefully, but pointedly did not move from her spot on the bed. It might have been a tad childish herself, but a part of her was more irritated at being kept out of the loop than at becoming his sex toy again. Frankly, this kind of cognitive dissonance had become so commonplace for her that she barely even noticed it anymore; it was merely another facet of being forced to exist in this surreal no-place where all she was expected to do was... well...

'I'm not going over there,' She said petulantly, figuring the least she could do to safeguard her virtue was make this hard on him. He gave a small frown, which she counted as an equally small victory.

With exaggerated, limp-jointed motions, he made his way over to the bed in much the same way Amy would imagine a stroke victim might, or some kind of rubber-band golem. Somehow, this was worse than the serious-minded, angry Sander she had encountered in the past; at least then he was some kind of predictable. She knew what she was up against there. This was something new.

'Okay Amy, I don't want any snarking, or any bitching... I don't want to have to use the Collar,' He paused, took a breath and leaned back. 'I just want something fucking easy. I just want a whore. And here you are. Strip'

'No,' She snapped back, defensively pulling her long limbs up to her chest. 'No way in hell. You leave me in here for days, you get me attacked by soldiers, almost raped... by strangers, anyway, and for what? You can't just come swanning back in here after all that and expect to get your way!'

'Actually, I totally can,' Sander prodded the collar ringing her neck. 'Command Collar, remember? But I already said I didn't feel like using it, so why not be a good little girl and spread your legs so we can get this show on the road? Don't worry, I'm not a cuddler, I promise.'

She resisted the urge to stand, knowing that was the first step into escalating a physical confrontation she could not win, 'Fuck you, Sander! I'm not going to just play along because you tell me to! Not anymore! I could have died! Christina could have died! I'd wager that we all could have died, and that includes your friends too! When are you going to realize what a bad idea all this is?'

'I won, Amy. They took me by surprise... I still won.'

'Here's the thing,' She said darkly. 'You need to keep winning. The Doctor only needs to beat you once. And are those bandages I see?' She took the risk of prodding his chest, actually smiling as he winced away from her touch. 'You've been hurt. Doesn't bode well.'

Bad idea, bad idea... She knew it was a bad idea to antagonise him, but she was flying. Soaring on wings of pure audacity. She'd had a gun held to her head the last time she'd experienced human contact... What could Sander really do?

'Want to know how that feels?' Sander growled.

Amy felt herself going a tad paler, but regrouped quickly; honestly, what could he do to her that would be worse than what he was already planning to do?

'I got hurt,' Sander continued, backing off and sounding a bit bleak. 'I got stabbed. Three times. I'm a little surprised at the glee there, Amy. I thought you were the good guy here.'

'That only goes so far. About as far as getting kidnapped, I think,' She replied. 'Also, I somehow doubt that you were the only one that got hurt out there, since there are seven of you bastards, and I haven't seen a single one of you for days. Is that true?'

'Yes.'

'And you can't see how that's your fault?' Her mouth fell into a frown. Part of her, admittedly, was concerned, wondering who had gotten hurt, and if they were okay. But the rest of her was furious at Sander; he had engineered this entire plan, and now people were dying. She had seen what Ren had done to those soldiers, and it was the kind of thing that stuck with her. Some nights, she could even still see the faces of the clerics that had been set to guard her in the ruins of the Byzantium; men who'd undoubtedly had families that would never see them again, never even remember them, in no small part because she'd looked that damn Angel in the eye.

'All of this is your fucking fault, and you're too wrapped up in your head to even notice!' Her Scottish accented tones filled with a soft, melancholy anger as her hands balled into useless fists. She couldn't even hit him, try to shake him out of it, 'Every last bit, because you set these pins up to be knocked down. Who was it? Tsugi? Lysithea? Mara? Are they even still alive? Do you even care? Or is getting to the Doctor by making me suffer that much more important to you?'

It was a terrible idea, she could see the hurt, wrathful fire building behind his eyes, but she couldn't stop. She was tumbling downhill with nothing and nobody to stop her; all the anger, all the hurt and frustration and guilt that had built up in her over everything was coming out all at once.

'And it's not just this time, that's the worst thing! It's not just yourself you're hurting, which would be bad enough, and it's not just whichever poor sod got in the crossfire this time...' Oh god, was she really going to say it? 'It's everything. That's the saddest part, it's this whole thing. You're taking it out on me, trying to take it out on the Doctor, but that's just a way to distract yourself from the truth. What happened to you on Vesperia was your fault. It wasn't the Doctor. You did it to yourself, but the worst part, the thing that really gets me, is that now you're doing it to me, you're doing it to Christina, and you did it to Elsa-'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 16



She stopped. She had to; it was so clear she'd gone too far. Sander stiffened in his seat at the name, the tiny intake of breath was clearly, terribly audible in the sucking, tense silence that followed. Slowly, deliberately, he stood, swaying a little as he did so. His eyes met hers, just once, and they flickered with something she couldn't quite place. Then, he was gone.

Delicately, Amy placed herself back down on the bed, chewing her lip thoughtfully. That could not be good. She had probably gone too far, there. In fact, from that look in his eyes... Yes, she had gone too far. And he would punish her for it, assuming he even bothered to return. For all she knew, he might just leave her in there, and the next thing she saw would be Ren coming through the door with a wide grin and some other god awful sex toy. Oddly though, that seemed like the preferable option.

She actually jumped when the door opened again, and Sander dragged Christina into the cell with him. Roughly, he dropped the brunette to her knees with a well placed foot to the back of her calves, and took her by the hair, essentially pulling her upright. His eyes swung to Amy, and she shivered at the sheer, rough blackness she saw there.

'Strip,' He said, just one word at a volume barely louder than a whisper.

'Sander...' She began, not knowing where to go with this. One thing was certain, now he was pissed, and it was directed solely at her. Not good. 'Don't-'

He produced, from his pocket, a length of shining silver chain, tipped with a kind of barbed clip that Amy wasn't familiar with, but the purpose of which was shockingly clear. Without ever tearing his eyes off of Amy, Sander reached down with one hand and ripped Christina's shirt right down the middle, exposing breasts heaving with the frantic pace of her breathing. It was clear, then, that he had commanded her not to speak.

Wordlessly, eyes locked on hers, he took one end of the chain and attached the clamp to the base of the noblewoman's nipple, the fearsome teeth biting into the pink bud mercilessly, eliciting a shriek of pain from her. The process was repeated, and the chain rattled and swayed with Christina's breath as Sander took hold of the center links, lifting if over her head with just enough slack to keep it from tugging.

'Strip,' He repeated.

'Sander, come on,' This was taking a distinctly ugly turn, and by now Amy was looking for any escape route she could find. Her eyes found Christina's, seeing the mix of pain and confusion there, her heart dropped. It wasn't just her in this game anymore, 'This is exactly what I was talking about. There's no need to-'

Sander tugged upward, eyes locked to Amy's. Christina cried out as the chain rose, slack disappearing and pulling at her breasts with razor sharp ferocity. He kept her there for a moment, shaking, with watering eyes, before he released, cocking an eyebrow at Amy to ensure she had gotten the point.

'Strip.'

Figuratively and literally, Amy was backed into a corner. She'd never seen Sander like this before; the closest he had come was that raging psychopath that had come out to play when he had seen the Doctor, all those months ago. He'd brought Christina in on this, and it was exceedingly clear that he really didn't give a crap as to what he put her through, which left Amy to wonder: just how far would he go? And how far was she willing to let him go?

Because his eyes were on her. It was painfully clear who had the power to stop this... but that would just mean transferring his attentions to her, wouldn't it? And he had far more reason to be angry at her right now, didn't he?

For the first time since coming here, Amy felt a pang of true fear slide down her spine.

'Sander, please think about this. This is exactly the thing I was talking about before,' She raised her hands pleadingly. 'You get angry, you start throwing blame outward, and then you stop thinking straight. Please calm down and look at what you're-'

His eyes flared angrily, his hand swung upward, and Christina's breast danced, quite literally, on a string. Scream. Oh, fuck...

'Strip.'

'Wow, there's just no getting through to you, is there?' She snapped, reaching for the hem of her shirt. Once again, it was impossible to find underwear in this place, so in discarding the shirt she was essentially leaving herself half naked. Normally, she could rationalise that Sander had seen everything there was to see, so there was little point in being modest... But today, he was glaring at her with such intensity that she felt a definite desire to cover up. Her hands went to her breasts momentarily, covering herself from his sight before she remembered the chain, and the unfortunate hostage it was attached to. She lowered her hands to the waistband of her skirt, looking out defensively at Sander from beneath her fringe.

Her skirt dropped in a disappointingly fluid slide down her long legs, pooling around her feet as she stepped out of it. She stood, hands on her hips, a challenging expression on her face; she knew she was going down, but damned if she wasn't going to go swinging.

'On your hands and knees. Now,' Sander growled, toying idly with the chain threaded through his fingers.

To resist, or not to resist? What an unfortunate question to be faced with. There was little point in the former, Amy knew, unless she suddenly developed a liking of Christina's pain. Since that was most emphatically not the case, she reluctantly sank to her knees, placing her hands before her in a way that stuck the soft curve of her butt firmly in the air.

'Good girl,' Sander's sarcasm was all too evident, as he picked another object from his pocket; a silver rod that tapered at one end. 'One last thing.'

He tossed the device, and it spun end over end through the air before landing between Amy's hands. She looked at it questioningly.

'It goes in your ass,' For the first time, his expression shifted, turning in a smile that was downright hostile.

'Sander...'

'It goes in your ass, Amy,' He tugged first one end of the chain, then the other, causing Christina's bountiful cleavage to bob once or twice in sequence, soundtracked by her squeaks of discomfort. Amy had no choice. Of course she didn't.

Still, this was only the second time that Sander had ever had designs for her ass, and it was with no small degree of trepidation that she went about following his order. She winced a little as the tapered end of the rod slid in, taking it about as deep as she felt comfortable, and no further. She glared at her captor as threateningly as she could while nude, on her hands and knees, and with a foreign object protruding from one or more orifices. Sander remained silent, though this time there was a kind of expectant edge to it.

It was around this time that she heard the poof.

It was, in every possible way, clearly the sound of something expanding very rapidly. And it was coming from behind her. Was there any wonder she turned around so fast?

It was something Amy would live to regret.

The exposed part of the rod that was situated quite firmly in her butt had grown fur. Luxuriant, healthy looking red fur, but fur nonetheless. As of this moment, Amy Pond had a tail.

'Sander, what the fu-'

'No no, girl,' Sander shook his head, perhaps a little too forcefully. 'Was that not enough of a giveaway? You're a dog, now.'

'Sander! This is too far!' Amy was well aware of how weak her position was, what with the fluffy little tail sticking out of her ass and twitching experimentally, with a little mechanical buzz hitting her with every motion.

'No, Amy. What's too far is the little gene sequencer in the tail that's currently working through your system. That's too far. Arguably, I'd say the change is permanent. So, it's really your choice whether you want to play this as figurative for a little while, or literal forever.'

Did that... did he actually mean that?

'Sander, what-'

'It's up to you, as I said. But I can imagine the situation getting a little hairy for Christina and especially for you if you keep bitching to me...' He paused, enjoyed the unintentional wordplay. 'Ha, that's good.'

'I don't-'

'First lesson!' Sander growled. 'And I can't believe I even have to teach you this, but dogs don't speak.'

'S-Sander...'

'No, you seem to be missing the point, still. Here, let me help you,' He tugged on the chain, still glittering on his fingertips, and Christina screamed. 'All of this is really down to you, Amy. You made this happen. This one? It's your fault.'

No matter what, she just couldn't bring herself to do what he wanted. It was too much. The look in his eyes proved to her that he wasn't willing to use the Command Collar, that he wanted her to submit on her own, and worst of all, that he was willing to keep applying pressure until she did so. Christina's eyes pleaded with her to just get it over with, it was clear she knew where this was going as well, but...

'I can't,' She whispered. 'Sander, don't-'

He simply was not going to let up. Christina's back arched in a desperate attempt to escape the tension tearing at her nipples to no avail, as Sander lifted the silver chain higher. Sander kept staring, all the time his eyes locked on Amy, barely even conscious of the brunette's suffering. But that was the point; he wasn't supposed to be aware of it. Amy was. And she had travelled with the Doctor; a sure fire indicator that she wouldn't allow that to continue.

Her teeth ground together, she glared right at him, and Amy let out a tiny, venomous bark, hoping to at least stop Sander from further tormenting poor Christina. He grinned, but shook his head and pulled the chain just that little bit tighter, 'No no, girl. Try a bit of enthusiasm.'

Again she tried, this time reaching deep inside to find some well of positivity with which to draw from, and failing. Any other time, she might at least have found it in herself to play along with his sick little games, but not like this. Not naked and kneeling and fucking sodomised by a dog tail. She ended up growling, 'Arf, arf, fucking arf, you sick fuck!'

He shook his head, tugging at the chain idly as he spoke, 'Come now, girl. I'm not exactly sure how much time that tail needs to do its thing, but if I were you I really wouldn't want to risk it. I mean, I guess it's up to you, but you'll need to live with your choices, girl.'

His hand travelled down, gathering up the hem of Christina's skirt before pulling out. She yelped in pain as the fabric tore, the elastic snapped against her skin, and the entire garment was ripped away from her, leaving her naked in its wake. Amy gasped at the sheer brutality of the motion, the violence of it coupled with the shockingly loud sound of tearing cloth. Christina's legs trembled.

'It's your choice, girl,' Sander said, unclipping one clip from Christina's aching breast, causing her to sigh in relief. 'But things aren't exactly going to get better if you don't behave. Like a good dog.'

His hand travelled down, clip glinting in the light. It trailed down her skin, every eye in the room following it. They all knew where it was going, but Christina still whimpered as the jaws opened as it reached the juncture of her legs, sliding around the top of her mound before clamping closed over her clit. Christina howled, eyes screwed shut as she shuddered in Sander's grasp, simply unable to get away.

Amy turned her gaze from the sheer pain on Christina's face. She resolved herself; no matter her own personal humiliation, she wasn't the only one in this anymore. Christina was a part of this too, and she couldn't just stand by as Sander abused her like this. She did the only thing she could to help.

She barked.

Her voice was threaded with sadness and humiliation, but the indignant rage she suppressed, watching as Sander slowly lowered the chain, allowing Christina to relax. She couldn't look Sander in the eye, couldn't bear to see him enjoy her humiliation; she lowered her head, yapping like a dog, finally beaten.

'Good girl!' Sander said condescendingly, reaching out to tousle her hair. She actually felt like biting him, 'I think a performance like that deserves a reward! You want a reward, girl?'

Tears dripped from her eyes, trailing over red hot cheeks as they fell, and she barked again, a grudging acceptance that any change in the situation would be better than this. She had never felt more backed into a corner.

'No no. Dogs beg, girl.'

Her eyes flashed up to meet his, seeing no desire to compromise or show mercy in them. He would have what he wanted from her, no matter the cost to anyone else. She had once heard him mention that, having had to kill before, he found the act distasteful, but she had a hard time believing, in the moment, that he wouldn't go exactly that far, just to subjugate her. Sometimes, with all the smiles and the jokes, it was easy to forget the kind of man she was actually dealing with.

But, could she do it? How far would she have to go? What would he do to her, if she did as he said, or even if she didn't? What kind of button in his head had she pressed by mentioning Elsa?

A muffled sound snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Sander's fingers tugging the chain as though it were some kind of rein, driving Christina's head further down into his lap. Amy could hear the soft grunts of the brunette, as she was forced down by nothing more than a silver chain and some bundles of nerves.

'You see, this is what obedience looks like, girl,' Sander said. 'Though obviously through different means. Take a good, long look, and figure it out.'

He tugged, he pulled, and Christina grunted. He could play her like an instrument, fingers plucking at individual links to add more pressure to her clit, or her breast, sometimes alternating the two, sometimes ripping at just one mercilessly until Christina had practically swallowed his cock.

But still his eyes locked with Amy's, his regard for Christina only tertiary when compared to the pointed nature of his attentions towards her. His message was clear: this was all for her. Every second Christina was in pain was solely down to Amelia Pond, nobody else.

With a tiny sound of frustration, Amy sat back on her haunches, arranging her arms in the distressingly perky, upward facing style of a dog begging, and... dear lord... panted for his approval. She stuck out her tongue as much as she dared; a tiny, unbearably adorable protrusion from the corner of her mouth. She tried to pant, rather than huff, as was her initial instinct.

Meanwhile, Sander continued to play Christina as though she were some kind of perverse musical instrument, seemingly trying to extract as many different kinds of groans, squeals and grunts from her as possible. Each new tug or variation on the torture opened up new genres of pain to the ersatz noblewoman, spurring her on to greater heights of self debasement just to get him off her back.

Her pursed lips split around his thickness, and she drove herself up and down his shaft, all sense of propriety lost under the sheer weight of her desire to be free of the clamps. He held the chain so taut that to pull back was sheer agony to both her breast and her loins, but she had no choice but to continue; she hoped to make him cum, simply as a time saver. Even if he got bored of her mouth, Christina couldn't imagine that he would just forget about her; she would be used as a tool to ensure Amy's obedience even when he tired of her. But perhaps finishing him early would give her some respite.

She gagged as a particularly harsh tug of her chain sent her diving far too low down her captor's dick. She remembered; ah yes, Sander wasn't hugely interested in what she wanted, here. He was bent on making this difficult. Her eyes welled with tears as he kept the chain taut, keeping her lips at the base of his cock, just so he could enjoy the sensations of her throat against him. She could feel it, just how little she mattered to him; she was just another method to get his point across. This was not how a de Souza should be treated! This was too damn much! What could she have possibly done to deserve this?

She thought back, comparing the young woman she had been, with the entire world at her fingertips, to this; some pathetic, whining, naked thing salivating over some stranger's cock simply to stop him from torturing her. No, that would not stand.

Finally, he dropped the chain, and consequently Christina herself, pushing her aside as though she weren't there and stepping over her to reach his real prize. Amy shrank back from him, having played this game too many times to merely sit still. Sander was taking none of it; wordlessly, he gripped her shoulders and twisted her around, bearing Amy to the ground so that her knees propped her ass up in the air, tail wagging in an obscene parody of canine joy.

There was no foreplay, none of the customary teasing or kinks; Sander simply bore down on top of her, sliding his cock, still glistening in Christina's saliva, into Amy's pussy. He started as he meant to go on; hard, and oblivious to her needs entirely.

'Just so you know,' He growled, pressing her chest down onto the floor as he fucked her. 'Kanaria got hurt. She got her throat cut open, and me? I fucking built her a new one. So don't go moralizing to me, girl!'

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but caught herself at the last second. This close, doing this, there was no telling what he'd do if she disobeyed. She ended up turning her grunts of exertion into reasonable facsimiles of barks, but mostly contented herself with gritting her teeth and trying to keep her legs as wide open as possible to relieve the pressure on her cunt. Even so, it didn't escape her that he had opted to fuck her doggy style.

Her hips jarred with each forceful thrust, and it was all she could do to avoid having her face planted firmly to the floor by levering herself up with her hands. Even so, her breasts occasionally made harsh contact with the cold tiles, giving her cause to yelp in surprise each time. The tail, that damnable tail, was wagging, the rod inside of her wriggling in an incessant and dangerously pleasurable way as it did so, making her blush. She squirmed.

The worst part, if she had to single out one element of this carnival of humiliation as being particularly bad, was just how wet it got her. Not the pressure, or Sander, or the act itself, but the tail. It moved deep inside her, twitching and swaying in patterns that were impossible to predict, yet entirely hypnotic. By the time she had been halfway through her little show, she had been dripping.

And no, there was no other reason...

It was impossible, terrible, the way she lost control under his touch. Almost like she'd never had it to begin with. How was it that he could do this to her? And like this, too; degraded as she was, Amy would have thought it impossible for him to twist her up inside, and yet the heat rose higher with ever thrust. Why was it always so good?

'That tail was kind of expensive, so I hope you're enjoying it,' His lips were at her ear, damn him. Why did he have to push her like that? He was pressing her down now, ensuring she could feel his power over her, and she writhed helplessly, hoping to relieve some of the pressure of his weight on her, give herself some room to move and perhaps lessen the impact of each thrust on her fragile- and distressingly sensitive- body. Sander was having none of it, and his fingers gripped her shoulder tightly as he fucked her, 'It's amazing how many people out there, human or alien, want to be something else. Trans-species folk are getting more numerous all the time, even the prejudice is starting to falter. Though somehow, I doubt you care about the cultural implications of what's happening to you, hmm?'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 16



This wasn't like usual. Oh, he'd taunted her in the middle of sex before, of course he had. But that had always had a sexual motive, too; he- and, more often than she'd like to admit, she herself, apparently- had gotten off on it. But this wasn't for pleasure, this was to get at her. This was to dig his claws into her mind and make her worry, to remind her of just how much she needed him to like her to ensure her continuing survival. This was a reminder of just how fickle that affection could be, and the consequences of losing it.

Whether he was teaching her a lesson, or whether he was just taunting her as he used her for the last time before leaving her to whatever the tail was doing... This wasn't sex. This was submission, plain and simple.

And Amy couldn't tell which option appalled her more.

His fingers dug into her skin; he wasn't so much holding her still as holding her down, and it showed. She shook, actually trembled as he fucked her, leaving her so wide open and vulnerable and powerless that, despite the utter uselessness of such thoughts, her brain turned solely to dreams of rebellion and resistance. Of breaking away and escaping. Sadly, those thoughts were hard to keep hold of, with the shamefully wet sounds of his thrusting filling her ears.

'You know, I'm gonna have to get to work preparing for how you're gonna look in future,' Sander hissed, so close, too close, to her ear. 'Yeah. You'll need a kennel, for one thing...'

She whined in despair, conscious- god damn it- of keeping everything as canine-sounding as possible. Not just because every word he said only confirmed the permanence of what he would do to her, but because... Oh god...

How long had she been fucking him back?

She stopped almost immediately, her hips shuddering with the sudden added force of being the full stop to each of Sander's thrusts, but she supposed the damage had been done. Unless he had been too caught up in teasing her to notice; a girl could always hope. Still, the way he kept going on, Amy had very little trouble believing he was too wrapped up in his own head to notice anything she was doing.

'Maybe a nice little bowl with your name on it, eh girl?' He was practically growling now, seemingly possessed of that lovely savage intensity that sometimes came over him and made Amy believe he was this close to snapping her neck. She whined again, mewling pathetically; she was his little goddamn ragdoll, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Momentarily, her eyes went to Christina, found her looking the other way, clearly uncomfortable but, more importantly, also not doing anything. Well, at least Amy knew where her friends were...

...

Too fucking far away.

'Oh, but first...' He laughed, two distinct exhalations in her ear, then silence. 'Did you think I wouldn't see it? Feel it?'

He pulled her up, wrenched them both up bodily onto their knees, his arm wrapped around her collarbone and keeping her upright. His chin rested on her shoulder as, lower down, his cock speared up into her wide open pussy, slicing through so many myriad sensitive spots that had been inaccessible in their previous position. Amy cried out in desperate sensation, unable to avoid it, the sheer shock of such a change overcame her.

'You're getting off on this, girl,' He rumbled to her. 'I know you are.'

Once, when things had gotten slow and more en route-ey than running from aliens-ey, the Doctor had shown Amy one of his many party tricks, and he had read her mind. Just surface level, of course, but it had been impressive enough and Amy had gotten the impression that it was an effort for him not to go deeper. This was almost exactly the same feeling she got from Sander when he made announcements like that; he'd even gotten down the same complete certainty in his own correctness. It was downright terrifying, the way this man seemed to understand, innately, every inch, twitch and kink of her body, and how to turn it against her. He could so easily turn her around, make her feel a traitor in her own skin, as easily as flicking a switch.

Tears rolled down Amy's cheeks, and she devoted all of her energy to staring resolutely ahead as he violated her; she couldn't exactly deny him, but she could damn well ignore him.

'Yeah, I think you should get off on this,' She wasn't looking, wasn't looking, certainly didn't see him smile... 'After all, it'll be the last time...'

He allowed the words to sink in, a pit of dread opening up in Amy's stomach; worse still, at no point did he stop, or even slow down in fucking her, sending bursts of liquid pleasure through her even as she contemplated the darkness in her future.

'But you need to beg for it,' His voice sent a chill down her spine. She stiffened in his grip, almost tried to pull away before she realized just what a horrendously bad decision that would have been.

No. No, no. No. Not going to happen. He could do whatever he liked to her... He apparently was already doing that, but she was not going to beg. Not this time.

But she knew her resolve was weak. Even as she built herself up, she knew he wasn't going to stop. That obscene control he had over her body... He would use it, use her until he got what he wanted. And she would break down and give it to him. She'd beg, simply to get it over with. She'd beg, because there was no alternative.

She would beg, but she would never truly give in.

Her body ached, throbbed, her hips rolled unconsciously with each of his thrusts, matching him, craving that little bit of extra pressure that would send her over the edge, while the rational part of her mind knew there was no way in hell he'd give it to her without her giving up something in exchange. The tail in her ass twitched, wagged, poked at her insides in ways that took her breath away. It was his tail, and it wagged for that part of her that he had leashed and collared, the part of her that melted for him like butter, the moment he added even the slightest bit of pressure. That part of her she hated, wanted to get rid of, but couldn't. It was his tail, and it wagged for his benefit.

He was in control here. Of everything.

'C'mon,' He rumbled, voice dark and terrible and filled with pure, animal desire. 'Bark for it, bitch.'

His voice played through her mind like fingers on a string instrument, plucking at all the right places, playing her like some hormone-addled violin. Her cheeks flushed, her pussy flooded, and oh god, she wanted it...

Amy Pond barked. It was a tiny, simpering thing, quavering and pathetic. It was the sound of resignation, and it continued; a litany of little barks and whines, so quiet yet filling the room as efficiently as if she'd been yelling. She knew she had everyone's attention, not just Sander, but Christina too. Her humiliation was being witnessed by another victim, and somehow that was so much worse. She felt like a traitor for giving in, but what choice did she have?

Worse still, she found herself still teetering on that edge, barking and hoping it was enough, hoping he'd just up the force just that little bit more, make her moan, make her scream, make her do anything so she could cum as a woman, instead of playing at this grotesque charade.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as her canine vocalizations left her lips, but her thoughts were solely: Please, please give it to me. C'mon, that's enough, let me have it... I need it...

'Oh, good girl!' He tousled her ginger hair, petting her like a dog, and all she could do was whine pathetically. 'Get along, little doggy. Cum for me.'

He speared into her, faster than before, deeper than before, giving her what her throbbing flesh desired. She was limp in his arms, head turned to one side, his little ragdoll. Fuck it, let him finish. Oh god...

Her toes curled, her back arched, and she was off. She was cumming. Her pussy dripped over his cock, she moaned wantonly, no longer a victim, no longer a dog, no longer a sex slave, but a whore. Nothing but a body, pulsing and shivering in orgasm, flesh on fire with want, pleasure flooding her, screaming, stripped of all pretense, all resistance... Nothing but vulnerable flesh wrapped up in a collar, cumming on the end of her captor's cock.

She didn't even start hating herself for it until a minute after it ended and she came back to reality, finding Sander still fucking her, using her, sating himself with her body. Her cheeks flushed red hot; there wasn't any point in trying to stop him now. Her orgasm still quaked through her in tiny tremors, proof enough that at least a part of her had enjoyed this, to say nothing of her begging. He had long since given up on holding her in place, instead opting to place one hand around the base of the tail as he fucked her, producing some very odd sensations in her indeed. She stared resolutely ahead as he came, the spurting, wet sensation hardly the worst thing that had- or would, if she couldn't get that tail loose- happen to her today. Still, she thanked god for the sterilization field around her cell, and mentally committed to a long, near-boiling shower once he had left.

And then maybe breaking some things.

Amy knelt there, frozen and completely unwilling to draw her eyes away from the far wall for fear of catching Sander's gaze, as he himself straightened his clothes and bodily dragged Christina next door to her own cell. When he reentered, Amy heard him drop heavily onto the bed, and only then risked glaring at him.

'Don't give me that look,' He said darkly. 'You knew where the line was, and I really don't understand why you decided to cross it, but you did. You brought this on yourself.'

'So, what? Now you're going to transform me into some fucking pet because I mentioned your dead wife?' Amy found herself shouting, quite incredulously. 'That's sick, Sander, even for you!'

'Dogs don't speak, Amy,' He reminded her, shaking his head.

'This one does, damn you!' She growled. 'I'm tired of having to be convenient for you, you sick little man!'

'You won't be talking for long,' He shrugged. 'But then again, I can be merciful. Tell you what: Bow. Beg me for forgiveness, and I'll let you off the hook. You crossed my line, so show me you're sorry, girl.'

'But Sander,' Amy said sweetly. 'Desiring your forgiveness rather implies that I'm regretting what I said, doesn't it? And you needed to hear it. So I'm not.'

'What it implies is that, y'know, you're willing to put your pride aside to avoid needing flea baths, Amy,' Sander's eyes had a solid, staid cast as he glared at her. 'That you can be a good little girl for me, as opposed to just being a good dog. But like I say, it's up to you. We all have to be responsible for our own choices.'

Her teeth ground together. There was a lot at stake here, but...

Damn him! This was too damn far! She had been forced to put up with a whole fucking lot from these psychopaths, far, far more than any normal person should be subjected to, and she had taken it all under the belief that she would be rescued. And that, deep down in his heart, Sander, Mara, yes, even Ren had some tiny spark in them that meant they weren't completely evil. Sander throwing himself into harm's way for her sake had seemed to be proof enough of that.

But this? She must have been mistaken in thinking that. And he would not bow. There was a time when one must stand up for themselves, and that was now. Even if... even if he did change her. Even if it meant the end of everything she was... it still had to be better than living like a toy for this cruel, obsessed man. Even if the Doctor never came for her, it was better. And she knew in her heart: he would come. Rory wouldn't stand for anything less.

Whatever the cost, it would only be temporary.

'I won't do it,' Amy ground out. 'I don't care what you do to me, I won't be your plaything anymore. Never.'

'Like I said, it's your choice. Be less than yourself for me, or be less than human, for yourself,' He sighed, almost like he was bored. 'Seems like you've made your choice. Too bad. Command: don't even touch your tail.'

Before he left, he turned back to look at her, just for a second. He grinned viciously, 'Sit Ubu, sit. Good dog.'

And then he was gone.

Amy knelt in silence for a moment after he left, chewing at her lip and furrowing her brow. There was literally no choice she could have made that would have worked out okay for her. Hopefully, she'd made the least bad choice.

She sighed, and closed her eyes.

************

She must have awoken hours later. The environment was unfamiliar, and Amy blinked several times to bring it into focus, dread blooming in her chest as the implications of being brought to a strange place were, given her current situation. Her head was still fogged and unclear... Had they drugged her?

When her vision finally cleared and she recognized where she was, she froze.

Her eyes closed. They opened again. She sighed. Slowly and ponderously, Amy pulled herself up, struggling to her feet, finding in the process that she was limited to her hands and knees. Normally this would be troubling, an indication that something in whatever Sander and his group had given her was reacting in her system, but not today, because...

She was in the TARDIS.

How? Who knows, but it must have happened while she was asleep. If she'd been drugged it might not have been possible to wake her during the rescue itself. Hell, her unfortunate stupor may have been a result of that freaky tail, but it barely even mattered: she was free!

Where was Rory? Where was the Doctor? Where was Christina?

She still couldn't stand upright, but she also wasn't about to stick around here until she could. Her heart pounded in her chest, deep and wonderful joy spread through her body in a warm wave... It might have been the memory of that stupid tail, but Amy found that her butt was wagging incessantly.

If she had to crawl, she had to crawl, but she wasn't waiting a second more: she was going to find her husband, her Doctor... anyone without a direct line to her Command Collar. She simply couldn't wait.

Step by awkward step, Amy made her way across the floor of what seemed to be the TARDIS control room, casting her eyes around for any sign that something was wrong; some small part of her still wasn't convinced that this was real. The idea that it might have been a trick, some cruel and manipulative joke set up by her captors to watch her squirm... She couldn't allow herself to get caught up in that.

But she dared to hope. It seemed authentic enough, and as she neared the control pillar, Amy could even hear humming coming from the other side. Despite her hesitance, Amy's heart soared.

... And her ass wagged faster. Damn it.

Her face flushed red hot at the implication, but in the seconds that followed it ceased to matter because there he was. There he was.

The Doctor.

'Oh, hey there Amy!' He caught sight of her, and she swore her heart almost stopped. There he was! 'You're awake, that's good. I was wondering when that would happen. Big day, eh?'

Amy's mind swarmed with questions: how long had she been asleep? How had he found her, or gotten her out? What had he done with Sander and his crew? Where was Rory? What had that tail done to her, and how long until it wore off? And seriously, where was Rory?

Her voice caught in her throat, the words tumbling over themselves on her tongue until they were rendered into an indistinct explosion of sound. A bark, if she was being perfectly honest. As happy as Amy was to be free again, a dreadful anchor of apprehension kept her from completely enjoying it; just how much had that tail affected her?

She tried again, and barked again. Oh Christ... Come on, Doctor. Use your sonic, figure out what's wrong. Fix it. Can't possibly see Rory like this...

There was so much she wanted to say, yet no way to say it. Still, she found that once she had started, it was hard to stop; maybe she was only talking to herself, but he was still present. At least for now, maybe the pretense was all she needed. And so, she talked. Her story spilled out of her; all the times she had been hurt, had been degraded, even the times she had thought her rescuers would never come. To him it was only a flurry of barks, but it meant something to her, and it was oddly important for her to start doing things for herself again.

'Oh, what? What is it?' The Doctor looked down at her, and Amy couldn't help but register his distinctly odd expression; familiar and fond, but certainly different. Vaguely careless, almost as though, at the moment, she was a chore. And that was... inappropriate, given the situation. She couldn't help but feel a little affronted; he should be far happier to see her. 'Oh, it's probably one of those, um... walk things again, yes?'

... Wait, what?

It was then that she caught sight of herself in the reflective surface of the underside of the control pillar. All of herself, from the tip of her nose to the corresponding tip of her constantly wagging tail. And all the auburn fur in between. Her eye twitched. She was still wearing a collar.

'Well, you'll need to be a little patient,' The Doctor, her most trusted friend, leaned down to tousle the hair on the top of her head, before clipping a leash to her collar and looping it securely around an outcropping by the controls. 'I mean, I think the atmosphere here is breathable and safe... mostly safe. But I still need to... Well, frankly I'm busy. There's a thing. Three things. And a golem. But it's nothing to worry about! Just takes time! Yes! And here I am, talking to a dog... That's sane, yeah. The point is, I'll take you for a walk when I get back. If. There's no certainty.'

This was all happening way too fast. Awash with a mix of emotion, both positive and negative, Amy could only stand there and try to regain the Doctor's attention with her ridiculously non-communicative barks, as he drew his sonic screwdriver and made off through the doors. Left alone, Amy could think of so many things she would rather be doing, but some part of her- perhaps some canine part- made her sit down quietly, leash coiling at her side, and wait. At least that was something she was still used to doing at Sander's.

She didn't know how long she waited, time had very little meaning inside the TARDIS just generally, but she didn't mind waiting however long the Doctor needed to be gone. Because when he came back, he would make everything alright. That's what he did. It was why she waited for him. When he returned, her tail even started wagging. So hard.

Fix it, Doctor. Fix it. Hurry.

'Now then, let's get a look at you...' Out came the sonic, scanning her up and down. The Time Lord consulted the readings for a moment, before shaking his head sadly, 'I know what you're thinking, girl. You're thinking it's the tail that's done this to you. It's not. This is all in your head...'

He sat down next to her, leaning against the control panel and running his hand down the fur on her back, which made her oddly shivery, 'I've rather botched this whole thing, haven't I? With you, I mean. The girl who waited... And all I did was make you wait. I've not been a very good master for you, have I?'

Amy tried for confusion, but ended up with vaguely pathetic, in the form of a whine. No, no, this was all wrong. Why wasn't he... Why couldn't he just change her back? Use some of that Doctor magic? And then prattle on through some needlessly complex scientific explanation- maybe with a metaphor that he loses track of halfway through- that she could only barely follow, and then she could thank him, and they could go do something. With Rory, of course.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 16



Where was Rory, anyway?

'I've been thinking, Amy,' The Doctor continued. 'Well, I'm always doing that. A lot. Vigorously, and in depth. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, you deserve better. A new master, one who'll pay you the attention that I... don't. And I think I've found him.'

... What?

'Hey, Amy.'

She froze, twisted, tugged at her leash. Her voice came out as a growl.

'Ah, there he is now!' The Doctor smiled, tousled her head. 'Now now, I know you don't deal well with new people, girl, but he'll be a good fit for you, trust me.'

She was tense. He was coming closer. No, no, no. All wrong. What was going on? Growling, at him, at the Doctor, at the world. Why had everything suddenly gone wonky?

'Hello Amy,' Said Sander Hackett. 'I'm your new master.'

************

She awoke with the kind of frightened start that actresses in horror movies could only dream of. It was real, professional level stuff; leaping up from the bed, hands clasping at thin air, dramatic intake of breath, the whole shebang. However, it included a decidedly inappropriate growl of frustration when she realized where she was. And that she was still wearing the tail.

Amy's head cleared slowly, the fog of sleep lifting as the dream retreated from the firmness of reality into something more insubstantial, and actual reality reasserted itself, in all its unsatisfying, vague and grim glory.

She was still perfectly fine; tail, yes... But no fur and a distinct lack of a wet nose. Those were all good things, but Amy found herself covering her face and sighing in frustration anyway, shaking a little as the last few seconds of her subconscious' slideshow played out on the inside of her eyelids.

'Layers of meaning that I could not begin to interpret,' Amy groaned to herself, giving one last attempt at reaching around and grabbing that damn tail, finding herself unable. She sat on the bed, artificial- yet highly convincing- afternoon light spilling in from the holographic overlay on the wall. The scene was rather pleasant, the sun dipping over the clear Trismestigius ocean, but like so much else here it was just a facade. Something two dimensional. She could count the number of times she had felt this moon's real sun on her skin on one hand.

Alien worlds and alien suns and alien rooms and regular old aliens... Yet all she wanted right now was her old room in Leadworth. More than anything.

'I'll offer you the choice again,' Sander said, leaning back against the wall. She didn't even look at him, stopped short of acknowledging his presence in favour of a moment of introspection, despite his being there since she had awoken. Briefly, she wondered how long he had been there for. It was entirely possible her impromptu nap had been the work of the tail, doing its work; maybe he'd known when she was to rouse, maybe he didn't.

Who cares?

'What?' She kept her eyes firmly affixed on the false sunset, with false waves lapping at a fake shore. She ground her teeth together as inconspicuously as she could, as the tail started wagging at the sound of his voice in a decidedly conspicuous manner.

'The choice,' His voice was so smooth and suave, controlled in a way it never had been before. He moved, placing himself firmly in her range of vision as staid blue eyes looked right through her. He was keeping something on a leash, and for once it wasn't her, 'You can choose again. Just this once. Because I'm so nice. Bow, and I'll remove the tail. Or you can keep it, and spend the rest of your life in and out of flea collars. Like I said, we're all responsible for the choices we make. Amelia Pond.'

She kept silent, looking out over the illusion of relaxing scenery, wondering what would happen if she just stayed silent. How long would he stay there, expecting her to make a choice? What if the correct answer was no choice at all? Taking the third path... That was how she had proven herself to the Doctor, way back, an eternity ago, on board the Starship UK. But that... seemed somehow worse. There was always the risk that he'd interpret silence as a decision toward... doggy doors.

Doctor, Doctor... She had her doubts that he could save her if she suddenly became a quadruped. In fact, she was beginning to have her doubts in general; granted, a few days was nothing compared to twelve years, but this was serious. The girl who waited indeed.

She knew better than to wait for the Doctor, because the Doctor had never dealt with a creature like Sander Hackett before. He didn't know how, not really. But Rory did, because she was his wife and now she was in danger, and she knew him. He was smart, and he would direct the Doctor like a weapon, he wouldn't stop, until she was back in his arms. That was going to happen. She was never a girl who had to wait where Rory was concerned. Maybe that said more than she'd realized.

But he couldn't save her if she refused to save herself. No matter how much it hurt her pride, she was no use on all fours. Whether it was reversible or not... she couldn't do it to herself. No.

Silently, unable to trust her voice for even a single word, she lifted herself from the bed, shifting uncomfortably as the tail's stabilising rod prodded her from within. She knelt, naked as the day she was born and feeling every little fibre of the carpet in incredible detail, and pressed her hands to her knees. With a soft, inward sigh, she dipped her head.

'I give in,' Her voice shook terribly. 'I'm sorry. Please, take away the tail.'

His head tilted slightly,' Is it any wonder I doubt your sincerity? Here, I know. A little test...'

He slipped from her field of vision, moved around behind her. She shuddered, gritted her teeth against the sudden sensation as the tail was pulled from her ass and quickly discarded, only to be replaced by something else. She felt him behind her, felt the heat and hardness of what must be his tip nudge against her too recently used hole, and stop.

'Move,' He said softly, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the bare skin of her back. Amy closed her eyes and obeyed, since anything was better than the tail. Slowly, she arched her back and pushed her hips back against him, filling her ass with his length. She whimpered as she felt her butt collide with his hips; this was so much worse than she'd imagined just prior to doing it. This was active participation, this was not only allowing, but facilitating her violation. And she got a feeling he wasn't finished just yet.

'Keep moving. Show me your contrition,' Yes, she had been right...

He made her do it. The entire way through the ordeal, he had her fuck herself in the ass, raping herself on his cock, while he sat back and gave her pointers. He didn't move a muscle, except to add a nasty little vibrating egg to her pussy, as a "reward." Amy had no doubt that the intention was, in fact, the opposite; that the way it made her squirm and drip, made her clench down on his cock, was simply another aspect of this new humiliation. But she endured, because she had to; if she wouldn't work to save herself, who would?

When she came, panting and writhing beneath him as he refused to let her stop for even a second, impaling herself on him over and over even in the grip of orgasm, she knew. This man was an evil one.

She was almost grateful when he came, filling her with his seed for the second time in her recent memory, then left without a word. Notably, he'd taken the tail with him.

It took Amy a long time to move, and when she did, it was only to crawl up onto the bed and draw her knees up to her chest. She exhaled, deeply and unsteadily:

'Rory...'

**************

Sander had gotten used to the concept of planet-rises long ago, mostly during his stay at his old meteor base. The idea that what rose in the sky each night was in fact a whole planet, with life forms and ecosystems all its own, was oddly fascinating. There was no sapient life on the planet that rose above him now, but he did often wonder what kinds of things were living up there, and what they did. He'd never checked, though he'd always meant to.

Sometimes, one simply couldn't find the time...

He took a moment to smile broadly as, in the distance, a bright light ignited on the horizon before launching skyward. It flitted up, among the stars, before abruptly shutting off once reaching what he approximated to be escape velocity. Bye bye, Walker... Have a nice trip.

He allowed himself to feel the evil triumph of that moment, the dark satisfaction as the creature that had put Kana in this hospital bed drifted off to a slow death by starvation, among the stars. There was something nicely poetic about that.

He leaned back in his chair, watching the reflected, silvery light the heavenly body gave off with detached interest. Really, he wasn't here to brood. Jericho had informed him that Kanaria was showing signs of stirring, and he'd felt it only appropriate to be there, if only to test out her new voice.

If he were a more wildly unfeeling man, he would have admitted to himself that the actual act of planning and constructing an artificial voice box to replace what Kanaria had lost... had been awfully fun. He wasn't a doctor, and had been forced to rely on his various medical programs and his own expertise in robotics just to make something approaching functional, though the final product had been given to a mind far sharper than his own- namely Jericho- to pare down into the shining, singular example of biomechanical engineering that the autodoctors had spent the last six hours surgically implanting into the comatose girl.

Now came the interesting part: seeing if it would work.

Sander tensed suddenly as she stirred, and forced a gentle smile onto his face as her eyes opened; the last thing he wanted was for the first thing she saw to be his dour old mug. Best to put on something shiny and happy, just for her.

'Hey, you're awake!' He said, as though it were a surprise, and nothing could be more natural. Like it wasn't a big deal, 'Now, I need you to stay quiet for a bit, okay?'

She was clearly still dazed, and doped up on painkillers to boot, but she nodded. Thankfully her physical wounds, the cut across her throat, had been as easy to seal as Sander's own, so she wouldn't bleed out. But after major surgery, it was always best to take things slow.

'You've been knocked out for a few days now,' He continued. 'Walker slashed you across the throat, do you remember?'

Another nod, this time with wide eyes.

'He's gone, you don't have to worry. He can't hurt you ever again,' He soothed, reaching out to take her hand. When it came right down to it, she was Mara's sister, so essentially she was his, too, 'But you took kind of a big hit. We had to... replace some things. I know it hurts, but I need you to say something for me. Just... something short, okay?'

She nodded, those gentle lips parted, with an intake of breath that seemed barely there, an insubstantial breeze. She was only forming a single word, but Sander found the moment rather tense; he tried to pass it off as concern for her wellbeing, but there was more than a little pride invested in his invention, too.

'Tsugi...'

He blinked. Honestly, he had been prepared for the slight mechanical edge to her voice, as though it had been electronically processed just a little; it had been impossible to completely reconstruct her voice from nothing, so a little mechanical knowledge had had to take the place of some of her natural equipment, but the choice of word had thrown him a bit. Until he remembered.

'Oh, right! He was with you! He's totally fine, Kana. Actually, he probably saved your life back there,' He tried for an easy smile again, but mostly ended up with vaguely anxious.

'Can... Can I see him?' She persisted, eyes shining in an odd way as she spoke. Clearly, she could hear the difference too.

'Oh. Uh, yeah, sure,' He stood, patting her gently on the shoulder. 'I'm pretty sure he's still awake. I'm glad you're up and about too, kiddo.'

He left quickly, actually a little glad to be free of her. Concern was one thing, but guilt was a far more acute emotion, and it needled him just to look at her, laid up on a stretcher like that.

He'd fully intended to go right to Tsugi, to drag him out to see Kana if he had to, but he stopped dead when the wall mounted speakers burst to life.

'Sander, we have a problem,' Jericho said, voice far more urgent than Sander had ever heard it before. 'The Eternity Engine has activated, and deposited two new targets into the capture unit. However, my zero point generators are not entirely functional yet: they are unrestrained.'

'Two?!' How is that even possible? The Engine can't handle that kind of a load!'

'The short answer is that Marduk is at fault,' Jericho began. 'The long answer is that Marduk is at fault, but I cannot say exactly how. When he overcharged the Engine, he must have broken it somehow.'

'Okay, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it,' Sander shook his head. 'Priority one is getting these newcomers under control before they do some damage to themselves or to my machine. Who are they?'

'The first is Gwendolyn Cooper, formerly of Torchwood three,' Jericho chirped. 'The second is unidentifiable.'

Sander blinked, 'What? What does that even mean, in this context? Just check her off against the list of targeted timelines, Jerry.'

'She matches no known records, Sander. She was not an approved target.'

'That's impossible!'

'Nevertheless, that is what has happened, Sander. I advise extreme caution until her identity can be confirmed. To that end, I have already notified Ren and Dulcimer, and they will meet you at the access elevator immediately. I will also be on hand, should you require any assistance.'

'Thanks, Jerry,' Sander murmured. 'Now, log out. It's time we go meet the new guys...'



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 17



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read that one first.

Hey everyone, how's it going. Real quick today, just thanking my team of supporters here: Isabel, D, Allyourbase, and LogicalDreamer. All awesome people! Oh, and you might be wondering about the apparently sudden timeskip forward here. What's going on? Check my profile, that's all I'll say on the matter. Please vote or comment if you enjoyed it, thanks everyone!

***********

Mara pushed him into the room. He wished she hadn't. It made it look as though he had been pressured into coming here which... was true, strictly speaking. But in real terms, he wouldn't have needed the pressure of her hands on his back. He would have come anyway. He would've run.

Kanaria caught sight of him, waved weakly to Mara as she swanned away at top speed, and smiled. Tsugi's heart practically stopped in his chest. Entirely worth it. 

Though if Mara hadn't been there to push him along, Tsugi might have taken a moment to think of something to say before he opened the door. He'd never been the most suave individual under ideal conditions, but what the hell was he supposed to say now? He was pretty sure very few people got into situations like these; what exactly did one say to the woman you had watched bleed out on the floor? What words wouldn't ring false, as hollow platitudes? 

She deserved more than that. 

She might have been the one without a voice, but Tsugi was the one unable to speak.

'You're okay...' Her new voice trembled as she spoke, and the words were tiny, silvery shadows that hung in the air, barely perceptible. Wisps of sound, nothing more, and yet they hit Tsugi harder than he would like to admit. His mouth was dry, and his heart skipped a beat every time his eyes grazed the thick wadding of bandages wrapped around her throat. 

And where had he been when that had happened to her? Passed out on the floor. 

Useless.

'I'm okay?' He swallowed, tried to speak evenly. Failed. He hadn't cried in years, but right now his eyes prickled dangerously, 'You got it worse than me, kiddo. All I got was a headache, in the end.'

Kanaria smiled, and as the moonlight- planetlight, Tsugi reminded himself- shone on her face, she'd never looked more beautiful. It was something fragile, vulnerable and, yes... Worth protecting. He wished he could have taken her place, facing down that maniac in the hallway. There was no possible way Kanaria Syfte could deserve the pain she had been given. 

Tsugi's eyes were drawn inexorably downward as she pointed to her throat, shaking her head with a silent giggle, 'Sore throat.'

He heard himself laughing. But it didn't feel like something he was consciously doing; he was far too busy watching the mirth in her. Her shoulders rose and fell, the silent absence of her laughter more than the equal of the delicate, pretty sound it replaced. Her joy was visual now, and he found himself watching it so closely. He reminded himself just how close she had gotten to never laughing again.

Tsugi tried his hardest not to imagine how she must have looked at the moment that cruel knife had cut into her neck; that hopeless, endless second filled with agony. Her eyes, welling with tears, hands clawing at that monster's arm... What must she have been thinking about. How alone must she have felt...

Useless! Useless fucking Tsugi! Again!

He watched her, committing every detail of her silent laughter to memory, so closely that he almost missed the tears falling from her shining blue eyes.

'Oh, no!' True, deep concern threaded his voice, and he rushed to her side so fast it must have spoken volumes about how he thought about her. He took her hand, almost smiling despite himself at the wonderful, reassuring warmth to be found there, 'Don't do that, please... Kanaria... I've got no idea how to deal with crying women.'

Her mouth, all soft and supple curves in the twilight, curved into a smile, despite her tears. Through her tears, as they fell in wet lines down her cheeks, pooling in her lap. Tsugi was forced to bend almost double as she threw her arms around him, pulling him close enough that he could feel her heart beating in her chest.

Alright, oh useless one. I'll do you a favor and we'll not be thinking about breasts for a moment, okay?

'You're alright...' She sniffled, and he resisted a powerful urge to say something back. Even if the words had come to him then, her proximity had almost certainly rendered him unable to properly say them without sounding like a mentally deficient person, 'I thought he would kill you next...'

'Hey, try not to talk. Doctor's orders,' He smiled. 'Honestly, it's almost as bad as crying, right now.'

'It was all I could think about, Tsugi,' Her voice had a coolness to it that hadn't been there before, almost an audible metallic sheen. But it was cracking, as she forced herself to continue speaking, 'I wou-'

'Hey, stop it,' He tried to sound gentle, and was so afraid of the possibility of failure. 'You'll hurt yourself.' She was still so close, still clinging to him... It was a wonder he could speak at all.

'I need to say it,' She pressed on, losing volume with every syllable. Her voice was dwindling away right in front of him, 'It was worse than what... that man did to me, seeing you-'

Okay, you heard it too. Screw it.

She stopped talking. Tsugi stopped thinking. Probably, so did Kanaria. They were so close together, for a moment, they even breathed as one. One of his hands was at the small of her back. The other rested on her thigh through the thick blanket that covered her. He heard her swallow nervously.

He kissed her under countless shimmering stars, in her hospital bed, on a moon with only eleven people on it. But in that singular moment, there was only the two of them.

**************

'So, like... her name is Lorna Bucket?' Ren tilted her head to one side eyeing the newcomer in all her camouflage-printed glory. 'That's... not a name that people have.'

'It's the name that she has,' Mara pointed out. 

'She is sitting right here...' Lorna said, sitting back as far as possible from the strange group of people who had ended up crowding her cell. Mostly, it was the man she had thrown back in that strange machine that worried her, and the way he kept scowling at her. The blonde woman with the bouncy step was also problematic, in that her gaze was far too transparent in its desires to be entirely healthy. And, of course, Ren, who... Well...

Never get locked in a room with a person you've only recently punched in the face. It never ends well.

'So, what happens now?' Sander, predictably, scowled. 

'Is that even a question you have to ask, at this point?' Ren deadpanned. 'I mean, didn't you invent this stuff, anyway? I have some interesting ideas, even if you don't.'

For the first time, Lorna realized just how adrift in a world full of enemies she was; she was locked in a room with two people she had only recently attacked- with varying degrees of success- and a woman clearly well liked by both of them. She got the feeling that the Collar was the least of her worries.

'Yes, I think we've all had those ideas,' Sander rolled his eyes. 'But frankly, I'd like to get a little background before we make her less than inclined to talk to us. Lorna, exactly how dead was I, in your time?'

The Gamma native frowned at the implications there, but spoke up, not wanting to antagonize these people further, 'The archives all say you've been dead for thirty years, though rumors persist that you didn't actually die in the first place. So glad to see those were true,' She hadn't meant to, but she slipped it in anyway.

'Heh, I'd be in my fifties, by that point,' He didn't smile. Rather, he turned away, rubbing absently at his shoulder. 'Because no, I didn't die. I'm like a roadrunner, I'm very hard to properly kill.'

'I'm still not really getting what all this has to do with me,' Lorna said flatly.

'Oh, well, let me explain th-' Mara stopped, blinked, ran her hand through her hair. She frowned, 'Hey Sander? Is it just me, or did we pick up the two girls least connected to the Doctor all in one go?'

'Huh, never thought of that before...' Ren frowned too.

'I did,' Sander shrugged. 'But then, I also don't really care, because a win is a win. What I care about is how this is affecting my machine, since it could, y'know, tear a hole in spacetime. That needs fixing. So, can we get this show on the road so I can go... do that?'

'Alright, yeah,' Mara giggled. 'Lorna dear, be a good girl and take off your clothes. Don't make me use the Collar!'

The soldier jumped to her feet, eyes locked to Mara's. Her gaze shifted, alighting on Sander and Ren in turn, before she rolled her eyes in exasperation. Her hips swayed slightly as she threaded her thumbs into the waistband of her pants, allowing them to slide down well muscled thighs and onto the floor. She sighed, preparing to do the same with her shirt as her observers watched in with varying degrees of surprise. 

Stripped completely, Lorna stood expectantly, mousy brown hair falling loosely down her back once freed from her cap. Mara pouted; not a trace of embarrassment registered on Lorna's face. The crew stood in vaguely disappointed silence for a moment, their perverse gazes still drawn down the naked woman's generous curves appreciatively. Seemingly tired of the quiet viewing party these three were having, she spoke up.

'As you can see, no weapons, nothing hidden, nothing at all,' Obligingly, the Gamma native turned on the spot, affording the crew a three-hundred sixty degree view of her body. 'Clean. Unless it was a quarantine scan you were thinking of, but I haven't been anywhere but the Clergy barracks on Demon's Run, I promise. That place might be... distasteful, but it's not exactly contagious.'

Mara, pouting in a cartoonish display of sadness, tugged at Sander's sleeve, 'Sander... why isn't she doing the thing? The blushing thing? I like it when they blush. What's wrong with her?'

'Wrong with me?' Lorna said archly. 'What?'

'She's a Gamma kid,' Ren sighed. 'Bein' in the buff doesn't mean shit to her.'

'Really now?' Sander said. He hadn't met anyone from the Gamma forests before, though he had the same inbuilt, uneasy sense of curiosity that most people from the nominally "normal" planets had. Gamma had always been a sort of untamed, wild place when viewed from the outside, although he'd been led to believe from people who had visited the forests there that it wasn't nearly as exciting as the facts that everyone knew made it out to be: Gamma was heaven-neutral, the people were just a little odd and, yes, they would walk around naked like it was nothing. Tree huggers, they were. Communed with nature , which was always said as though it was somehow unnatural to do so. 

Well, those were the preconceptions folk talked about in polite company. There were the other things, too...

'Hey,' Mara began slowly, looking over Lorna's increasingly confused face. 'If she's a Gamma girl, does that mean she's never... Y'know... Hey Lorna, have you...?'

'She's asking if you've been a good girl,' Ren cut in, grinning. 

'Yeah, exactly,' Mara nodded. 'Have you done as all good little foresters should and saved yourself?'

Lorna blinked, 'Yes, of course. Completely.'

Immediately, Mara's face lit up with the kind of dark glee Sander hadn't seen in quite a while. She made a little squeaking noise in the back of her throat, apparently finding this last piece of news one of the best things ever. She bounced on the soles of her feet, gesturing excitedly to her sister and her boyfriend before leaping to Sander's side, grabbing him by the shirt.

'Oh, please can I keep her!' She squealed, giving him her most winning smile. 'Please, please, please!'

Sander couldn't help but grin, such was the infectious nature of Mara's enthusiasm. He could see where she was coming from; the Gamma folk had a very specific idea of what saving oneself meant, so a strict practitioner of their particular brand of semi-religion was quite a find. It'd be an entirely new kind of discovery, and he was loathe to give it up, but Mara was the one person alive he would walk through fire for. If she wanted her that badly...

'You can have her,' He began, tousling her hair fondly. 'But you have to share eventually. Don't be too greedy, okay? Leave some for the rest of us.'

'Ooh, thank you, thank you!' She whooped, throwing herself into his arms. She gave him a wry little smile, 'I love you, Sander...'

'I love you too, but don't push it, okay?' He leaned in to kiss her. 'Have fun.'

'Aw, what?' Ren grumbled as Sander turned and attempted to usher her out of the room. 'I don't get to stick around?'

'This is Mara's game,' Sander shrugged as the cell door closed and locked behind them. 'She'll let us know when she's ready to play multiplayer, Ren. Give her some time, she deserves a little fun too.'

'Yeah, whatever...' Ren growled, shooting him a scowl that contained just a little too much venom. She walked away, and Sander found himself leaning back against the door with an odd expression. 

If it had just been Ren's moods swinging that wildly, he wouldn't have minded as much. Getting Ren in a good mood was as much about luck as it was anything else. But it wasn't just her; he could see it in the others, too. Only an inkling, a vague- but very real- sense of distrust and anxiety. 

Three years of safety and comfort, and all it took was one bad day. Just one madman with a posse and an axe to grind, and suddenly home was no longer safe. Suddenly, all those familiar corners became alien, the little creaks of the roof settling gestured at dangerous outcomes. The untouchable crew had been reminded of their vulnerability, and there was no going back to the way things were.

There was a lesson to be learned here, about preparation and taking the current state of affairs for granted. But it could hardly be applied with his friends jumping at shadows, with tensions constantly increasing. They were hurting, and it was only a matter of time before the pressure built too high, and then what happens?

'We could all do with a bit of fun...' Sander sighed, closing his eyes. Who would've thought the first threat to the stability of his crew wouldn't be millennia old Romans or Time Lords, but an asshole like Walker?

'Ah, fuck this...'

******************

'So,' Mara said brightly, now alone with the newcomer, smiling like a child with a new toy. 'Lorna Bucket...'

Lorna frowned, but didn't bother to make a move. With the Command Collar around her neck, anything she did do would undoubtedly be reversed if the woman in front of her ended up disliking it. So she stood in place, pale skin gleaming in the artificial light. 

She had left the forests because she had found them terribly boring, but standing here naked, she had to admit that her home planet did have one thing she missed; there weren't so many opportunities to be bare skinned in the marines. She would have preferred the open air, with the heavy scent of earth and life all around her, but even in an enclosed space she could derive some comfort from the feeling of air, unrestricted, on her skin. There was such a lovely freedom to this that the Clergy's uniforms could never match. 

But of course, she couldn't fully enjoy this in her current predicament. She was no stranger to the way Mara was looking at her, but other than that Lorna couldn't help but feel she'd gotten quite the wrong end of the stick, here.

'I feel like I've gotten a bit lost, here,' She said tentatively, as Mara edged closer. 'Why is it that I'm here? You don't want me to fight?'

'Your not fighting is kind of the problem,' Mara pouted. 'If you're properly a Gamma girl, then I'm going to have to do some work on you... You're really a virgin?' Her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm, especially when it became clear the question made Lorna uncomfortable.

'I am,' She said. 'It's only proper. I've not been married, after all.'

She'd been bored enough at home to leave the forests completely, but some things died hard. Lorna knew that men found her attractive; even in the forests she had felt their gazes upon her, though that kind of thing had certainly increased- and become more overt- when she had gotten offworld. At least the men of her home could be relied upon to contain themselves, and limit themselves to their wives. At eighteen, she herself had been too young to wed when she had decided to leave, and her years with the Church had left her little opportunity to find a mate outside the forests. 

Oh, she had been propositioned for something less... long term, on many an occasion, but she had always turned them down. It would have felt wrong; man or woman, it wouldn't have really mattered to her, so long as she could do it right, and wed them first. Sex was for married couples, and although that definition was limiting, it was what she had been brought up to believe. It wasn't going anywhere now.

Lorna watched as Mara mulled the concept over, and found it satisfying. Still, there was curiosity in her eyes, a look that Lorna was not unfamiliar with; the minute people found out that she was a Gamma girl, she got the questions. Mostly it was about the nudity thing, and Lorna still found their shame at their own bodies just as strange as they found her lack of same. But sometimes, generally when her questioners had been drinking, and their inhibitions were down, she would get asked about the other thing...

'Tell me about the Maiden's Water,' Mara's quicksilver eyes gleamed at the prospect. Yes, that was it. The Maiden's Water: everyone knew the name, but very few knew what it actually meant. Or at least, they wanted to hear it from her personally. The world outside the forests was far more sexually promiscuous than Lorna had expected, and she could see why the concept of the Water would be so odd to outsiders, but to her it was a deeply held belief. The first few times she had been asked about it, she had only been able to articulate it by quoting scripture; it was so deeply ingrained, it was like having to explain away an arm.

'The Maiden's Water,' She began, voice taking on a breathy, profound tone. 'part of the Forest Water, the River that connects all life that dwells within the forest. That which is inside us all, but that which spills from woman, when she is cleaved to her wedded partner. To do so otherwise is sin, promiscuity and disrespectful to nature. It is wasteful, and I can't imagine why so many of you outside of the forests are fine with committing such an act, for a few moments of fleeting pleasure.'

Not that she would know...

Honestly, she never meant to proselytize like this, but the lessons, the teachings of the Gamma forests, had been so ingrained in her psyche. It was hard to talk about them without at least a little judgment. Though Mara certainly didn't seem to appreciate it.

'I'd always sort of hoped that term was a metaphor for something else,' The blonde seemed deeply disturbed by this news. 'But you guys mean it literally?'

'We do,' Lorna frowned.

Mara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. She was having real trouble properly processing this information, 'And you're telling me you've never spilt your Maiden's Water?' Her voice actually shook with excitement as she asked. 'You've never... cum?'

To her delight, this made Lorna blush and look away, her fingers threading together seemingly unbidden, hiding her crotch from Mara's view. It seemed an automatic response to this line of questioning, and Mara wondered how many men, tempted beyond reason by the sight of this woman walking naked around the forest, had asked a similar question, and gotten this endearingly modest gesture in response. It was the first time Lorna had viewed her nudity as anything other than merely the state of not wearing clothes. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 17



'Bullshit!' Mara exclaimed, shaking her head. 'There's no way! Nobody goes through life, goes through being a teenager, without cumming at least once! Even if they're alone when they do it!'

'It is a sin,' Lorna persisted, cheeks practically glowing red, and it became clear that her reaction wasn't about her nudity, or sex, but about belief. Her eyes flashed angrily, and it was clear she didn't like being challenged on this, 'A lady of the forest may not spill her Maiden's Water until her wedding night. It's been that way for hundreds of years, and it serves the people of the forest well. Far better than your promiscuity has served your people.'

The sudden realization that Lorna was serious made Mara burst out into peals of silvery, joyous laughter, of such force that she almost bent double, running out of air in the process. As she straightened up, she wiped mirthful tears from her eyes, scanning Lorna's confused and frustrated face, 'Oh, you're going to find life here very hard indeed!'

'Why are you even asking about all this?' Lorna snapped. 'Idle curiosity I can understand, but honestly, this isn't really what I expected my first few hours as a POW would be like!'

Mara's head tilted, 'You can't possibly still think that's why you're here, right? I mean, do we even look like soldiers to you?'

'The Half does. She fights like one, anyway. Other than that... No,' The pieces of the puzzle began to shift inside Lorna's head, rearranging themselves into a shape she had desperately been trying to avoid. She would have thought it hard to come up with a scenario that was worse than becoming an unwilling slave-soldier for an opposing army, but the line of Mara's questioning was certainly hinting at one. 

'Yeah, Mara grinned, having made her way to the door as Lorna reflected on recent events. 'That's more like the expression I was hoping for. You just wait here. I'm going to get some things prepared.'

The door slid shut. Lorna stared at its featureless, gunmetal grey surface, before slumping to the bed. The future opened up in front of her like a great yawning void, filled with far too many uncertainties. Whatever happened next was bound to be unpleasant. 

Outside, Mara giggled, before calling out, 'Jerry, can you open up some storage rooms for me? I need to get into terminal eight.'

'Terminal eight has been locked down, Mara,' The A.I said. 'Under Sander's orders, the contents of that room are not for use by the rest of the crew, since many of them require... specialist operation.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'm not after any of the fancy stuff,' She shrugged. 'Just the one thing. Besides, I've got the same clearance as Sander, and he'll be there when I use the thing. Trust me.'

There was a pause.

'Against my better judgment, I do,' Jericho sighed. 'Very well: Unlocking terminal eight...'

'Oh, and call the rest of the guys,' Mara grinned. 'I want to have a bit of a party.'

******************

'Ladies, Gentlemen, thanks for coming,' Mara grinned, standing by the large, slightly moving something hidden under a heavy black sheet.

'Oh, I wasn't going to miss this one...' Ren smiled smugly, settling herself down further in her seat. It wasn't just her, this time. The entire crew, plus Amy, Christina, and Sally, had been turned out to witness this. They were seated in a rough semicircle before the black mass, the crew on chairs, anyone with a Collar kneeling on the floor, mostly scowling.

Under the sheet, the focus of their attention whimpered.

Mara looked out over the crew, winking playfully as Amy as the redhead accidentally caught her eye. She frowned; though it wasn't exactly her little sister's kind of game, it was vaguely unsatisfying to be playing without Kanaria around. Still, she supposed it was better for her to recover and get back out here more quickly, rather than coming out for every piffling little thing and delay the healing process. And... Where was Tsugi?

She shook her head, grinning a little. There had been a reason she had pushed those two together tonight, after all. Good for them.

'Now, some of you might be wondering about the unidentified target the Eternity Engine picked up at the same time as the lovely Miss Sparrow over there,' Mara gestured in the direction of the Earth woman, opening her mouth to continue. Ren interrupted.

'Nope, I fought her earlier, remember?' She chuckled to herself, as always in love with the idea of being obstreperous. 

'Read your mind,' Dulcimer sent, stretching her arms languorously at the back of the crowd.

'Saw her when she first came out of the machine,' Sander shrugged, grinning despite the fact he would surely pay for not playing along later. 

'Read your mind too,' Lysithea smiled apologetically. Mara sighed.

'Alright, awesome,' She said flatly, hand tugging listlessly at the edge of the sheet. 'Hey look! It's our new toy! Want to fucking play along for a little, goddamn it?'

The covering slid away, revealing the scowling, naked woman below, shackled hand and foot to a device that, to Amy, was terribly familiar. It was the same table that, shackled and divested of her dignity, she had first met Sander and Mara on. Well, them and their third, her near-murderer, Shimizu. 

It held Lorna in much the same way it had Amy herself, if in a horizontal position. The sole difference was the way the portion supporting her torso had become curved and raised, lifting Lorna into a position where she could look out over the crowd just as they looked back at her, and consequently gave them a good view of her large, well formed bust. Even Amy couldn't help but stare, the lewd display even holding Sally and Christina in thrall, too. 

At least for now Lorna's legs were held closed, although Amy knew from experience how easily that could be changed. She recalled the way the seemingly solid steel device could flow and behave as a liquid, moving the unfortunate captive in any way the one holding the remote could want. As if to prove this point, Mara hit a button on the shining silver remote in her hand, causing the restraints holding Lorna's arms to arc upwards, carrying her shackled wrists up above her head, the restraints fusing together at the apex of the curve, crossing her arms over one another. Slowly, her legs were forced apart, the single shackle holding them down becoming two and drifting apart, forcing Lorna's pussy out into the public view.

'I've always liked that position the best,' Mara sighed happily to Lorna, before turning back to her audience. 'Ladies and gentleman, this is Lorna Bucket,' She put on her best imitation of a wrestling announcer, gesticulating down at the crew, 'Can we get a little applause for her?'

As one, the willing portion of the crew erupted into whooping, cheers and clapping. From his vantage point, Sander could see Lorna's distaste at the way she was being mocked, but it's not like he exactly cared, either. Frankly, he was unsatisfied; the girl had been stripped naked and she didn't seem to mind at all. Now, granted, Sander had heard some stories about the Gamma Forests and the way they ran things, but he had spent a considerable amount of time and money in developing a machine that could reach through time and kidnap people. The least this girl could do was be appropriately nervous when she was stripped for his entertainment.

But no. Aside from the Command Collar sat proudly around her neck, Lorna Bucket was completely naked and apparently totally at peace with it. Clearly she was less at peace with being strapped down to a high tech interrogation table, with her legs spread in stirrups and her arms chained above her head, but her cheeks didn't flush in that attractive way all the other slaves did. Sander liked it when they blushed, damn it!

The other slaves were certainly blushing; Amy, Christina and newcomer Sally knelt on the floor, spread apart from each other by the feet of his crew. Ren's hand idly toyed with Amy's hair as Christina resolutely ignored her foot digging into her back and Sally tried to keep Dulcimer in eyeshot at all times. All three were blushing; if not at their own predicament, then at the way Lorna was on display. Her legs had been spread wide in the stirrups, presenting her cunt and puckered asshole to the assembled crowd. Sander could see his girlfriend eye the whole package rather hungrily. This was going to be fun.

'Now, I don't know how much you guys decided to steal from me about the Gamma forests, but here's two interesting facts,' Mara continued, feeding her inner showman. 'It's a very religious area, following the Gamma Doctrine to the gods damn letter, you know. So, as a result, Lorna here has no issues with nudity.'

There was a chorus of boos, lapsing quite organically into a chant of "blush! Blush! Blush!" that even Mara had to laugh at. She raised her hands for silence, and like an obliging little audience, everyone shut up. Sally and Christina glanced uncomfortably at each other.

'The other interesting fact,' She continued. 'Is that the Gamma doctrines specifically forbid sexual contact of any kind until marriage, and shockingly, this part of the doctrine is generally also followed to the letter. The practical upshot of this is that our girl Lorna has never had an orgasm.'

'Okay, bull-fucking-shit,' Ren shook her head. 'Nobody can possibly have done that, not in this day and age. Hell, I've got a nerve stimulation program loaded onto Shichi? Sometimes I'll just accidentally turn it on, without realizing. It's impossible not to cum, when you're... What is she, mid twenties at least?'

Mara paused, as the entire crew stared at Ren with varying degrees of sheer discomfort. Eventually, she piped up, 'That's weird, Ren. But in Lorna's case, you're wrong. Check this out. Lorna, Command: Answer truthfully. Have you ever had an orgasm?'

'No,' Lorna answered promptly, blinking in surprise as the word tore itself from her mouth without any conscious action on her part. She shifted uncomfortably, as far as her bonds would allow.

'Why not?' Sander pressed the point.

'It is a sin,' Again, the words seemed to almost trip over themselves as they spilled from her mouth. 'It is a sin to spill our water when not in the presence of our betrothed. To do so alone is a sign of weakness of spirit, of the devil's influence within. It is impure to waste the maiden's water without our husbands.'

Sander cocked his head to one side. Aside from being weird, it seemed as though those words had been drilled into Lorna from a very young age. It was so odd how the Gamma doctrine differed from most other religions; the G-Forest folk lived close to nature, and at times clothing was obstructive when moving through the forests so they had a decidedly relaxed stance on nudity. But water was somewhat scarce and treated as a precious resource, to be saved, and so it had taken on a religious significance. To the people of the Gamma forests, any water was sacred, even if it was of a... personal nature. 

It was fascinating to see; an entire religion built up around the physical necessities of the environment its practitioners inhabited. Just like all religions, in the beginning, Sander supposed.

'So, I think we can all see that now dear Lorna's out in a more progressive society,' Mara grinned, breaking him from his reverie. 'We need to do something about that.'

Theatrically, Mara reached her hand between Lorna's legs and gently stroked a single finger up the center of her folds, tickling momentarily at the hood of her clit. All at once, she gasped and struggled against her bonds, trying to lift her hips up and away from the blonde's invasive hands. She slapped a hand down on the captive's stomach, pushing her hard against the table, listening to her whimper pathetically and turn her head to one side.

'Now now, be good. Ladies and gentleman, we are gathered here tonight for one thing, and one thing only...'

'To watch Lorna Bucket cum!' The entire crew cheered as one, the sudden burst of multifaceted sound loud enough to cause the three kneeling slaves to jump and cringe away. Everyone else was laughing, with the possible exception of Lorna, and it was clear to everyone that what she was doing meant very little, right now.

'Yes indeed!' Mara grinned, producing a small, egg shaped device, cast seemingly from a single piece of silver, and dangling it between her fingers. 'Now, when I was talking to her earlier, she told me that she was still a virgin, which I guess makes sense. Now, these guys are equestrian folk by nature, so she's already had her cherry popped-'

A loud, disappointed sound from the crowd.

'I know, I know,' She laughed. 'But the point is, this little guy will be the very first thing inside her, boys and girls.'

'Oh, you're mean,' Lysithea giggled, recognizing the device. 

'I am. Lorna...' The blonde lilted, approaching her and kneeling between her legs.

Lorna whimpered, before lapsing into hushed prayer, under her breath. That Gamma forest language meant approximately nothing to Mara, but she had to admit it had a lyrical quality to it that was quite pleasant to listen to, especially when spoken by a beautiful, nervous naked woman, already in a state of slight arousal from the ambient pheromones the Diamond Dust contained. It was fun, living on Trismestigius. 

She listened to her pray a moment longer, before brushing the egg slowly down her inner thigh, bringing it in to tease her delicate pink labia, causing a shudder to run through her slight frame. Her prayers sped up as slowly, torturously, intent on making her feel every moment of this, the egg was pushed, rounded tip first, into her pussy. It slid in, her cunt accepting it almost hungrily, as if all this time it had been waiting for some goddamn stimulation. As though it was starved. Mara almost nodded sagely to it, as if to say she understood. 

Soon, only the small length of wire one used to pull the device out remained in the open air. Mara had a remote control for this particular toy, and to test it she pulsed a strong bout of vibration through the tiny egg. On cue, Lorna mewled like a frightened kitten, her hips bucking in a wild overreaction against the table, ankles locked uselessly in the stirrups. She wasn't going anywhere, no matter how strongly her thighs clenched together.

'I think she likes it, boys and girls,' Ever the showman, Mara chuckled. 'For my next trick...'

She produced a small, clear convex cup, like a suction cup, and waved it theatrically for the audience. As one, they obligingly gave her a loud, drawn out "ooh..." sound, watching on tenterhooks as she ran a finger up and down the hood of Lorna's clit, stroking the tiny button until it swelled, watching the tremors of pleasure quake through her like she was made of jelly as it happened. 

When her clit was entirely available, the little plastic cup was placed against it, Lorna shaking as it sealed against her skin, locking in place even as she struggled against it. She whimpered, now praying out loud, words running together. It no longer sounded even vaguely musical; instead, it sounded accurate. Like a young woman was panicking and in fear. Unfortunately for her, this was precisely the crowd to appreciate this new song she was playing for them.

'Ly, I'm thinking of a number between one and ten. Guess,' Mara grinned, turning her gaze to the Trine-form and watching her blink at this sudden round of audience participation. 

'I'm going to say ten, Mara,' Lysithea smiled thoughtfully, nodding in approval at her chosen selection. The trickster woman grinned wildly, nodding back.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' She said, standing and moving beside Lorna's head. When she started all this, she wanted to see it in her eyes. 'Level ten.'

She ramped both devices up to the highest level, from zero to maximum in the space of a second. They burst to life, buzzing away against their intended target. Lorna screamed.

It wasn't as though things had never touched that place, the red little nub above her womanhood, but it had never been like this. The rough scrape of underwear, or whatever else, had only produced the mildest of sensations, but these devices were custom built to intensify this sin, turning it into a guilt-ridden orgiastic delight. The prayers were torn from her throat as she screamed in sheer sensation, pleasure boiling through her like molten lead. Her skin was aflame with it, the buzzing deep within her, on the twin centers of her pleasure sending her soaring into the atmosphere. 

From her seat, Amy winced as she watched the Gamma girl writhe; she had been on the receiving end of devices just like the ones she was now suffering through. And just like Lorna, Amy had had no knowledge of the kinds of insanely effective sex toys the future had produced. At one time, she had been in Lorna's position; tied down almost exactly like that and facing a brave new world of utter, abject, humiliating, addictive pleasures. A world she'd never been able to escape, in all this time.

Actually... Wasn't she thinking about...? Yes, that had been the first time she had ever met Sander, hadn't it? How things changed. She had been terrified of him, in the beginning. Now, she just mildly dreaded his arrival. She was terrified of Ren. 

... That wasn't exactly better.

Back on the table, Lorna shuddered and moaned, wailing out prayers in between her tortured, pleasured vocalizations. Her back arched away from the table, shoulder blades pinioning painfully as her wrists refused to stretch any further out from their shackles. Mara had expected pleas to stop, to turn off the devices, but Lorna seemed to be ignoring her, concentrating more on her stammering, winding prayers than on her torturer. That wasn't entirely satisfying, and so she turned off the toys, as she had always intended to do, and let her captive subside against the table, panting heavily.

'Lorna Bucket, welcome to sex,' Sander called out from the crowd, running a hand through his hair, watching her tremble and turn her face from him. 'You sounded like you were praying, there. I know, it's a religious experience, isn't it. Mara calls out to god when I do that to her, too,' He winked theatrically.

'You're agents of the devil,' Lorna said, breathless but certain. 'Sent to force me to stray to the impure path, and I won't be taken in. You won't tempt me to the path of weakness, Sander Hackett.'

'Want to bet?' Sander growled, as Mara reactivated the devices. He had heard of this before; the forest folk sometimes left the Gamma forests for wilder pastures, but notably the retention rate for the Gamma doctrine was close to one hundred percent. They would leave home, but not the church. It was odd to think about, but there was something in those people, some immoveable moral core, that kept them worshipping their forest god. They might leave the Gamma forests, but they kept it with them in their souls. 

Though Sander wasn't even sure there was such a thing as a soul, he had to admire Lorna's persistence. She had said herself she found her childhood home dreadfully boring. Even so, in this time of stress, it wasn't to the friendly folk around her that she looked to for help, it was to the forest god of an isolated planet countless lightyears away, through the vast and empty, black void of the cosmos, through which no voice could travel. Even now, being attacked by sensation, she called out to her god that he might reach through the heavens and rescue her.

Just as every god, everywhere, had failed to do in the past. Sander's teeth clenched; where was her god when Elsa was killed? How dare she believe in anything? It was just willful ignorance, in the face of a vast and uncaring universe.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 17



And so he urged Mara to keep the devices on their highest setting, watched the pious little slut moan like a whore and writhe against the table, wailing tremulous, breathless prayers whenever the lovely little toys allowed her enough breath, or enough sensation to do anything but moan with it. Mara could bring her to the edge, she would bring her to the edge, but when she came? When she spilled her Maiden's Water upon the ground and betrayed one of the most deeply held beliefs of her people? She would have her beg for the privilege. And mean it with every fiber of her being. 

She grabbed Lorna's chin in her hand, dragging her face around to capture her gaze. She stared deeply into the forest girl's eyes, searching... And finding what she wanted. Behind the panic, behind the blind religious devotion and the deep, deep self-loathing that she was feeling, Mara found something she recognized. From Amy, specifically. She found pleasure. 

She had seen it before; in time she had become an expert at instilling exactly this expression on all the girls under her care. That mix of shame, addiction and throbbing, fiery desire that characterized the submission she was looking for. A relaxation of the barriers of decorum, of decency and inhibition. A yearning, shameless slut at the heart of her, begging for the woman with the blonde hair to gift her the release she craved. 

Of course, in Lorna that was buried behind years of religious Puritanism and inbuilt shame to rival Amy's twenty first century upbringing, but that was part of the fun. Mara would enjoy tearing down those walls like they didn't even exist. The human body was the greatest pressure point any person had, and it would not be denied.

She could see it in those eyes, that glimmer of utter nothingness that signaled she was close to the edge, about to be ejected into that null space, floating beside her body in the instant that orgasm became inevitable and fighting against it would be a fruitless struggle that she herself didn't even want anymore. Given just a few more seconds, Lorna Bucket would have her very first orgasm, but if Mara was anything it was a cruel dominant. She wasn't about to make this easy on anybody, except perhaps her audience. 

She switched off the devices.

For a second, a shining, highly amusing moment, she began to hear a whine of frustration from dear, pious Lorna, before she managed to turn it into a rather admirable sigh of humiliation. She almost applauded her acting; she could pretend, but Mara knew what she had seen. Besides which, she was dripping, copiously now. Her Maiden's Water, pooling beneath her on the table. She had to feel it, had to know what was happening, and even more fun... She probably had specific lines of scripture running through her head, like accusatory fingers. Mara wondered whether churches in the Gamma forests had confessionals; it was the kind of thought that entered the mind unbidden and unconnected from any other relevant thought, but it was there to stay. She made a note to ask Lorna more about her religion later. Even if she didn't find it interesting in the least, there were probably other things that could be used against her there. 

'Did you like that, Lorna? I think that you did, because you're dripping, girl,' Mara smiled gently and went around to scoop a little of Lorna's cream as it seeped out of her reddening hole. 'You see?'

'It is a sin, first among the sins of lust, to allow one's maiden's water to spill out without one's betrothed,' Lorna's eyes screwed shut, as though to block out the sinning and keep in the piety. As if Mara was ever going to stand for that. 

'Command: stick out your tongue,' Mara whispered to her, and she complied, the little pink muscle trembling and flexing as it hit the open air, stuck out from between soft pink lips. The blonde woman pressed her finger, glistening with the stolen Maiden's Water, against it, and watched Lorna squirm. She ordered her to taste herself, to lick her juices from Mara's fingers, and when she was done? When she was done, she went back for more. Scooped more of the sticky liquid from her lower lips and fed it to her. Now she was blushing, and heavily at that. Now, Mara was properly at home with what was going on.

'Hey Lorna...' Mara brushed a lock of pale hair from her eyes and leaned in, speaking softly to the captive girl. 'If you ask nicely... if you beg me, I might end this early. You're new to this, so I'll cut you some slack but... You know you want it. C'mon, tell me how good it feels.'

'Never,' Lorna said through gritted teeth, as Mara began toying idly with her nipples. 'You can't get to me anyway. I'm stronger than you.'

'We'll see,' Mara sighed, grinning playfully. 'I can be quite persistent.'

Lorna's hips rolled, just once, as Mara turned the toys back on, rippling vibrations hitting her most sensitive areas. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth against the sensations bubbling up in her core, and prayed in hushed, frustrated tones. She would not give in, not to this. Not to sin.

In all her years, she had never felt anything quite like this. She had felt the occasional twinge here and there, of desire or stimulation in varying circumstances, but she had always been strong enough in her convictions to suppress it and move on. But this, these devices, it was entirely different; there was a singular purpose here that she had never experienced before. Her muscles tensed as the vibrations swept over her in a hot, tingling wave. She would not let it carry her away; she was stronger than the temptress who held her captive. 

But she could not stop her from taking full advantage. No matter how strong, Lorna was no fantasist; what was happening to her was a simple biological process, all hormones and chemicals and electrical impulses in her nervous system. No matter the fervor of her prayers, or the strength of her will, Mara could make her cum. Her body would work as it had been designed to, despite how her mind fought against it.

And so she trembled and prayed, screwed her eyes shut against the humiliations of the room she had been placed in, pulled at her restraints... and felt herself grow hotter. For the first time, her skin flushed in ecstasy, her toes curled, and her prayers were interrupted with breathless moans, and a kind of full body shudder that swept her up and down, like a wave. Soon, she was teetering on the edge, fighting the losing battle with everything she had.

And Mara turned her off.

Right at the peak, just before the final spasm and the spilling of her Water, the machines were shut off. Mara's thumb stroked over the buttons of the shining silver remote, giving them not quite enough pressure to turn them back on, to send Lorna over the edge. The Gamma girl gave a shuddering whine, pulled against her restraints but couldn't get free. Could never get free, of course not. She felt so hot, too hot, too close... dripping...

Mara was there, fingers in her hair, forcing her to gaze into ice blue eyes, blazing with something terrible and calculating, 'Come on. Beg me. Show me what you're really made of. Beg me!' It was a thirst, in those eyes. A need. Lust. Dark desires for pain, to see Lorna writhe. 

Native of the Gamma forests, soldier of the Church, running with the Doctor... She'd done so much, she wasn't going to be beaten by this woman. Not now. She closed her eyes, shut Mara out completely. Her lips trembled, parted. She prayed. 

'Fine,' Mara growled. She hit the button, and turned Lorna on.

And so it went, time and again; the toys vibrated so intensely at the core of her pleasure, raising her up, over and over, sending ripping, tearing, boiling pleasure up through her, again and again. Sensations she was not accustomed to, nor equipped to properly handle. Tears welled in her eyes as Lorna felt herself slipping, felt her body give in to it, felt her Maiden's Water drip in sticky drops to the table beneath her ass, pooling there, hot against her thighs. 

And every time, every time that she hit that peak, that her traitorous, weak flesh gave in to sin, Mara displayed her cruel intellect, and shut down the machines a scant second before that final, wasteful convulsion. Lorna tried to remain stoic, the first few times, but as the assault on her senses wore on, she found her defenses increasingly weakened. Her prayers gave way to whimpers, and throughout she was aware of the silent audience, watching her humiliation as though it were great entertainment.

'How many times am I going to have to do this, Lorna?' Mara cooed, as Lorna panted, chest rising and falling with the stress of yet another undone climax. 'You know what I want to hear.'

But Lorna would not give it to her. Her body felt like it was melting down, skin blushed red and aflame, every nerve singing with desire that had gone unfulfilled for too long, every impulse in her hindbrain telling her to clamp down on the thing inside her with every muscle in her hips, to try and wring the last few seconds of sweet stimulation from it, but with Mara at the controls, it would never come. She needed it, but it would never come.

And so she prayed. She turned to the flowing river of syllables that comprised the Gamma Doctrine's entreaty to the gods to provide strength. To guide her from evil, actually, but she was willing to take the secondary reading because the gods had apparently utterly failed at providing the primary request of the prayer. The words slowed, and Lorna realized she had been rushing it in the heat of her need, babbling and allowing the words to run together into something decidedly less than clear. 

'Okay, whatever,' Mara tried her best to sound nonchalant, but Lorna's persistent, iron-willed defiance had definitely gotten to her. Her eyes flickered dangerously, like firelight, when she looked over at Lorna. How could a chained up girl cause her so much trouble? 'I'm getting bored of this, and so's the audience. If you're not gonna play along, we'll just have our big finish now, and you'll pay for it later. Because everything has its price, little soldier,' Her eyes darkened, the faintest suggestion of a smile on her delicate, terrifying features. 'And I find myself in the odd position of enjoying the extraction of the payment far, far more than the payment itself.'

She could feel it on her skin; the machines seemed to rev as Mara started them again, on the highest setting. Lorna gasped as the vibration pulsed through her, setting her nerves ablaze with sensation once again. Vaguely, she could hear Mara talking, playing the situation up to her audience, but she kept it at the back of her mind. It wasn't important.

What was important, was her prayers. She needed strength, strength enough to weather this violation and come out with her integrity intact. Her body would sin, but her mind would not follow. Her soul was still her own.

So, she prayed.

But the words melted together, stopped being words at all. They became moans, breathless and shaking, as the sparking, roaring fire in her gut grew stronger, harder to ignore. It settled deep in her muscles, making her toes curl and her thighs clench, which only pressed the little egg harder against her most sensitive areas, causing her to twitch and cry out. Her eyes squeezed shut; she would not cry. Marines didn't cry. Foresters didn't cry. Lorna Bucket didn't cry!

She tried biting her lip, seeing if that would help to stop her moaning like the women her mother had warned her about, back home. It didn't work. Nothing seemed to. She felt it mounting in her hips, that final explosion, the climax, the end. She felt fear, then; what would it be like? It was a sin, no matter how much her body wanted it, logically it should be unpleasant.

Some tiny feral voice in the back of her mind laughed at that. It knew what it wanted. 

'Come on, tough girl,' Mara whispered to her, breath tickling her ear as her hips burned. 'Cum for me. You got what you wanted, you don't have to beg. Let's see you spill your Water. Cum...'

Lorna let out a strangled whine as Mara kissed her neck, just lightly, tongue grazing her skin, tasting her. It was going to happen. The tiny, intimate touch pushed her further, let her teeter on the edge for a moment, fighting it. No, no, no...

She screamed.

It hit her, radiated out from her hips, branded every nerve in her body, heated them white hot. Her back arched, hips lifting off of the table, twitching in mid air an obscene display of pleasure. Her mind melted with it, floating off somewhere else. Drifting away, mouth open even as the air left her lungs and her scream went silent, nipples and clit and pussy fizzing with sheer sensation. Lorna's breasts juddered as she drew in a harsh, gasping lungful of air.

There was a succession of heavy, wet dripping noises as her Maiden's Water was spilt, ejected from her tormented cunt in spasming torrents that flew some distance across the ground. She was dimly aware of the cheering and impressed noises of her audience, and they made her cheeks flush bright red. Mara was whispering in her ear, even as her climax went on and on.

'That's it, good girl... Such a good girl, cumming so hard,' She cooed, half mocking, half seriously impressed. 'What a pretty display! I wonder if I can get you to do it again sometime...'

She came down with the words still running through her head, whimpering like a madwoman and struggling pathetically against her bonds. Her muscles slowly relaxed, hips lowering back to the table, landing in a spreading patch of her own wetness. The group was still cheering for her, and Lorna could tell what bad news it was that they had all seen this. It was official; Lorna Bucket had been given her first orgasm and, miracle of miracles, she was a squirter.

'Well, wasn't that something?' Mara said, clasping her hands in front of her. She stared out over the spellbound, grinning crowd. 'Let's give Lorna a hand, eh?'

She guided her crew through a round of applause, grinning at their enthusiasm. When she turned back to Lorna, she saw that the girl was still praying, though with a great deal more shaking than before. Idly, her fingers trailed the wire running out of the restrained girl's glistening pussy, before tugging it out in a single movement. Lorna shuddered, and turned her head to one side.

'Hey now, it's not that bad!' Mara giggled, as behind her the crew began to disperse, now that the show was apparently over. 'At least, not yet. Because I think you need to put on your big girl panties, Gamma gal. I'm not nearly done with you yet.'

************************

Real wind. It was nice, and she tried to enjoy it unhampered by the knowledge it would probably be the last time she felt it on her face in quite a while. It messed with her hair and blew sand in her face, certainly, but there was a lovely natural feel to it that was hard to find, here in the future. 

Sera found herself missing home.

She brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, and looked out over the ocean. Her Chronosuit lay abandoned further up the beach, where the sand couldn't touch it, along with Nat's and Em's, their hulking robot guardian protecting the three priceless pieces of technology. The young woman took a moment to eye the robot again; she had her suspicions about that thing. It was useful, for sure, but she and her team had been given explicit instructions not to go poking around in its innards, which implied a few things about it she didn't really like. 

At best, it was recording everything it saw and heard and sending it back to Uncle Jack. Sera could understand that this mission was important, not to mention expensive, so a certain level of oversight was to be expected, but on the other hand... she hated being spied on. She'd had quite enough of that during training, not to mention growing up with the kind of family she had been saddled with. 

Though she couldn't help but smile to think of them.

The waves lapped at the shore in front of her, just reaching high enough to lick at her bare feet. It was all such a step up from those suffocating suits; what little clothes she and her teammates had been able to squeeze under the tightly wrapped metal breathed far better than the time machines ever could. Still, she didn't feel quite at home in shorts and a singlet, so she found herself wandering back up the beach to check her suit's internal clock; where was their ride out of here?

There had been silence for so long, it had become a tad boring. All three of them seemed unwilling to vocalize their thoughts, given what had happened. The mission had started; years of training, of fighting, of preparation, had built up to this moment, and now it was happening. It was bound to cause more than a little stress.

Up the beach, Em was skipping stones over the water with a lot of success. They bounced, end over end, before sinking quite a ways out into the glowing blue water. She hadn't liked seeing Sander, and of course Sera knew why; their relationship was far more complex than Nat's or her own, so much so that this specific past iteration of him would give her a lot of trouble. It gave them all trouble; he was a completely different person! 

But then, Sera had always had more than a little trouble reconciling this version of Sander Hackett with the version from her own native time. She wasn't the only one; Hackett's private writings often alluded to the fact that he had trouble doing precisely that, too. She could imagine.

Predictably, it was Natalie who broke the silence. Her redheaded companion had always been the talkative one of the group, 'I don't like that we have to do this.' She announced, building up the sand around her into a little mound.

'None of us like it, Nat,' Em replied, chucking another stone across the surface of the water. 'It's just something we have to do. You're almost eighteen now, you should know that occasionally people have to do things they dislike. So, we get it done, and then we go home.' The older girl said the word with a certain wistful air that Sera and Nat shared.

'I just don't get why he had to pick us to do it!' Nat pouted. 'Out of all the people who could have-'

'He chose the people he trusted most,' Sera cut in. 

'And uncle Jack,' The redhead said pointedly.

'Girl's got a point, Sera,' Em grinned, abandoning her game to travel up the beach to her team. The brunette was the one with the talent for time, so when she stopped doing something and started waiting, it was a reliable indicator that the next mission objective would be happening soon. 'But there's plenty of other reasons why we were picked, of course. Like how we're just the right distance from the overarching paradox that we can interact with it safely. Or how we kick ass, or how I'm- ooh, he's early.'

Sera had always found that a little strange, the way Em could tell he was coming before his ship had even started materializing. Then again, it came with the territory, she supposed. Not wanting to get caught in the ship's imminent formation, she and Nat both found themselves standing next to the mousy haired girl rather quickly. Together, they all enjoyed the groaning sound it made, as it ceased falling through the Vortex, coming to a halt directly in front of them.

He started talking before he had even opened the doors, '-ell, how's it going, kids? Your ride is here!'

Sera sighed. This regeneration was somehow even more talkative than Eleven, or even Ten, though he probably had less to say, in the final analysis. Still, Twelve had one thing going for him; he wasn't as aggravating as Thirteen. And his TARDIS just looked better; she had nagged at Thirteen for hours about repairing the scorches on the exterior hull, to no avail. She almost felt sorry for the old Type-40, knowing its charred and blackened future.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 17



'Hello, D!' Nat beamed, her previous unhappiness apparently forgotten.

'Hi, Natalie!' Twelve waved manically, causing both of the other girls to roll their eyes; mission of paramount importance, huge risk to Time itself, not to mention alterations to their own personal histories, and apparently nothing could make Twelve act with the seriousness the situation demanded. 

'Doctor,' Sera said levelly. 'I could swear that you're late. Which is a very troubling concept, considering.'

'Late? Me?' He scratched the back of his head, taking a moment to look back at the interior of his TARDIS. 'No, never. You must be mistaken. This old girl would never make me late, would you, dear?'

He actually paused for a moment, as if expecting the TARDIS to reply. Sera and Em looked at each other, both reminding themselves that this man would soon be piloting them through freefall in the Time Vortex. Sera felt like someone had just walked over her grave.

Apparently, this was a worry that did not affect Natalie; she patted the door of the TARDIS fondly before shouldering past the Doctor and into the time machine itself. She had always held great affection for the old blue box, but she wasn't alone in that; Sera knew she was smiling, just to look at it. The TARDIS was completely, utterly brilliant.

She would never admit it, but a chill had gone down her spine when that lovely groaning noise had heralded its arrival. Sera loved that noise. It was an awesome noise. 

'Where are we going now?' She asked, as the Doctor ushered her inside. Not waiting for his answer, she went straight for the control column, grabbing the scanner screen and hitting the controls, running through the list of pre-approved destinations. She smiled, happy that they at least got this time, in transit to their next destination, to recover; their Chronosuits were good for travel through time, and maybe short hops across continents, but they were absolute pants at interstellar travel. 

She remembered that Nat had been the test subject for that; all her enthusiasm had counted for nothing when she had jumped, discovered that myriad radiations and gravity wells in deep space had played merry hell with her navigation software, and found herself stranded on Alpha Metraxi. That had been a fun little pickup.

'New Earth,' The Doctor, their ride out, stepped up beside Sera. There were worse ways to travel, 'Selestene Arcology. Sander's hometown, actually. Nice place. Bit boring.'

'He means quiet,' Em deadpanned, spinning in her seat beside the controls. 'He gets bored if he doesn't have to run everywhere, preferably away from something.'

'When she's right, she's right,' Twelve grinned. 'Shall we, M'Ladies?'

'Onward and upward, I suppose,' Sera said, silently adding, 'Let's just get this over with. We've got parents to get home to.'

Slowly, the TARDIS powered back on, slipping into the Vortex with that lovely old groan. The sound made her smile. It reminded her of home.

To be continued... 



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 18



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey everyone, I'm back again. Special thanks go to Isabel, D, LogicalDreamer and Allyourbase, my amazing beta readers for their thoughts and encouragement. Enjoy!

**********************

'Stop that.'

'Stop what?'

'You're pacing. Stop it.'

'I am not!' 

Oh, for Christ's sake... Rory! Look down!'

He did. He stopped. He frowned, 'Oh.'

That had been happening more and more lately, his body going off on a jaunt all its own while his mind was occupied elsewhere. Which, of course, meant Amy. Amy, his wife, gone again and filling his mind every waking moment. Amy Pond, who was gone. Who he would get back.

Because it wasn't just the Leadworth memories that filled his mind now; not merely his pleasant dreams, but his nightmares, too. Images of swords, and combat. Blood and warm steel. Battle cries and fire, loneliness, and that valuable, precious... His box. His Pandorica. Two thousand years of waiting, and he would not lose her now.

The Last Centurion had awoken.

'It's him, isn't it?' He growled. 'It has to be. He's come back, and he's got Amy again.'

'Maybe,' The Doctor shrugged, pointedly not looking up from his work. Rory glared, 'Probably.' The Time Lord conceded. 'Look, I don't know. Would you stop pacing?'

With a sound of irritation, Rory halted himself again, pounding his hand down on the TARDIS' railing, 'Of course it's him! What do you mean probably? It's exactly the same method!'

'Oh, you think?' The alien snapped, rounding on Rory with fire burning in his eyes. 'Yeah, that seems about right. Stupid old Doctor, immediately forgetting that Sander Hackett has a time displacement device! Yes! There's simply no way that I would have upgraded the TARDIS' Artron shielding to make another intrusion like that impossible! In fact, you didn't see me literally do that, because you insisted I make things "safe," again. No! Never bloody happened, Rory!'

'Then how is she gone?!' He yelled back, facing the Time Lord down, step for step. He remembered the first time he had seen the endless rage in those old eyes, and how unsettling it had been to know, in that instant, that the Doctor was something far larger, and far more dangerous, than he or Amy had imagined. That beneath the running, and the bowtie and all the endless talking, lay a heart of cold fire, burning and consuming for centuries. 

Well, now Rory Pond stared back into the abyss, and it couldn't even touch him. What was nine hundred years of running, when set against two thousand years of devotion? What was the Last Child of Gallifrey, when set against the Last Centurion? 

What was a Time Lord, next to a Roman? Merely an old man with a young face and a new body.

'She's gone,' It had actually been a struggle to say the words in English. Ancient words kept prodding at his mind, dead languages and the call of war. Memories shouldn't hurt, right?

'I know that,' The Doctor said carefully, straightening his bowtie. 'But I don't know how. I mean, I know how, or at least, I think I do. I think he's cutting into her timeline itself, but I can't say for sure. Well, it's impossible, why should I be sure?'

'Impossible?' Rory said. 'Like, "breaking into the TARDIS from the outside," impossible, or actually impossible?'

'No idea,' The Doctor shrugged, frown deepening. He stopped, wracked his mind, 'Thing is, Rory... The thing is, the actual thing is that... I'm missing things. I know I am. My life doesn't make sense.'

'That's not new,' Rory said flatly, running a hand through his hair. This was going around in the same old circles.

'I mean, more than usual. There's... gaps. How did I get the cup?' He dashed back to the control column, running his hands over a series of possibly completely random buttons and levers. 

'The what?'

'Desert planet,' He said. 'This would have been a couple years ago, now. Old face, old body. Tenth regeneration. I took a bus from London to a desert planet, and when it came time to leave, you know, to avoid the stingrays? When we needed to leave, I had this gold cup that I used to make the bus fly. What was a bloody gold cup doing on a bus, Rory?'

'This has what, exactly, to do with Amy, Doctor?'

'I think I'm losing things, Rory,' He said, voice threaded with a kind of ghostly apprehension that Rory had never heard there before. 'Events, places... Even people. Just... gone.'

'Is it the cracks again? The Silence?' The small town man with the soul of a Roman leaned in, taking care to place his hand on a conspicuously empty portion of the TARDIS' console. He'd learned his lesson about absentmindedly hitting buttons here, 'Do they have Amy? It's not Sander?'

'No, if it were the cracks I wouldn't remember anything at all,' The Doctor shook his head, exhaling heavily. 'I wouldn't be able to tell that anything is wrong, because there wouldn't be. But this... I don't know what this is. It's not affecting my memories specifically, because if it was it'd be affecting yours too, but you don't have strange incongruities in your past, or you would have told me. You're very vocal lately, Rory.'

'You know why,' He snapped back. 'Well? You're the man with the plan: What do we do?'

'We go after Sander,' The Doctor shrugged, returning his attention wholly to his time machine. Despite the conversation apparently being over, he kept talking, 'Because it looks like Sander, it sounds like Sander, probably smells like... well, you get the idea. Far too similar to be a coincidence. I don't know what he's done this time, but you can be damn sure I'm going to find out.'

**************

It still surprised him that she could enter a room so quietly. He had been the only occupant of a mostly silent alcove set away from the main thoroughfares of the base, and he had still missed her. She had still managed to make him jump when she spoke up. 

Sander made a mental note to stop sitting with his back to the door in future.

'How are things?' Dulcimer sent, stepping up into the alcove beside him, placing herself gently into the opposite corner. Behind them was a window, large and looking out over a vast field of blue-green grass, stalks oddly immobile in the lack of a breeze. The barest edge of the planet they orbited, Sigma Majora, could be seen in the upper left corner, light shining down on the peaceful, almost static landscape. 

'You know how things are,' Sander sighed, shifting his back to find a more comfortable position. He stared out the window, the Dullahan's lack of a face obviating the need to look her in the eye, 'You were there. You saw it happen.'

'I saw it, yes,' Her voice unfolded in his mind like a fond memory, and her fingers tapped silently against her knee. 'But I was in no real danger. The Dullahan rarely are, if you'll forgive the ego inherent in saying so. But you were, Sander, and so was everyone else. So I think your impression of recent events will be rather different from my own.'

Sander grunted, took another swig from the slowly dwindling bottle that dangled from his fingers. He didn't drink often, but when he did he was eternally grateful that the cool room was always stocked with whatever had been deemed necessary. Jericho was in charge of the grocery shopping, though the actual delivery was achieved through supply pods dropped from high orbit. It wouldn't do for a dead man like him to be discovered wandering the aisles of a supermarket. 

'Yeah, I suppose so,' He nodded, leaning his forehead against the cool glass momentarily, as if the chill could calm his thoughts. Thinking had always been his strong suit, but the flipside of that were moments like these, where he found himself unable to quell the disquieting thoughts that wandered through his brain and refused to lie still long enough for him to properly dissect them. All emotional response, no logical analysis. 

He had turned to alcohol to blunt the response. It hadn't worked yet.

'You seem really calm, actually,' He continued, eyeing the space where the alien's face would have been. He didn't know why he kept doing that, possibly a socially conditioned reaction to conversation, but he had caught the rest of his crew, and even Amy, doing exactly the same thing. 

'That's because I am calm, Sander. Distress does no one any good.'

'Tell that to the rest of the guys,' Sander tried to smile, but it was a weak thing, thin lipped and unenthusiastic. 'Especially after what happened to Kanaria, and with her sisters around, and Sally and Lorna...'

'They are unhappy because they are frightened, my friend,' Dulsie laid a hand on his shoulder to silence him. It was light, and oddly cool through his shirt, 'And they are frightened because this place is no longer a place of safety for them. Three years, we've spent turning this place into something worthwhile, and in the course of one day, it suddenly isn't, anymore. The memories are still fresh, Jericho hasn't even finished clearing away the bodies yet. It's no wonder you're on edge.'

'It could have been a whole lot worse,' He said softly, though it was hardly a counter argument. 'At least, for me. I could have been killed. Why can't I stop thinking about it?'

'Because you almost got killed, Sander.'

'Sally couldn't take my mind off it, I threw Lorna to Mara, and before that Ren, for god's sake,' He frowned, covered his eyes with one hand and exhaled heavily. 'I went a little nuts with Amy. I got angry, tried to punish her... I shouldn't have done that.'

'We are all responsible for the choices we make, Sander Hackett,' The words echoed his own, in that cell with the redheaded woman. When he'd almost gone too far... If he'd done anything permanent to Amy and the Doctor found out...

There would have been hell to pay, and not just for him.

'I need to do something about this,' He said finally, more to himself than Dulcimer. The notion prompted him to take an especially large swig from his bottle, and swear violently, under his breath.

'Yes, you do,' Dulsie's psychic voice bubbled up through his mind; a very soothing sensation. 'Whether you meant for it to happen or not, you are the leader of this crew. What was it you said once? You were the team dad? I think that's as accurate as we're going to get. You gathered the crew, you're providing the entertainment, you're writing the cheques... What happens to us is for you to deal with.'

'Yeah, I know...' He sighed. A gust of wind blew across the grass outside, making it lurch to one side in a wave. The breezes here were strange; they stopped and started seemingly at random, as though whatever was controlling them was tapping the accelerator pedal. The wind was uncoordinated here, but it was better than nothing. The thought prompted a memory from his youth, and he smiled; he remembered the first time he had felt the wind on his face, on the side of a cliff overlooking a calm ocean. He had been eight years old.

'Maybe we should just leave,' He mused, tilting his head back. 'Just get the hell out of dodge, at least for a little while.

Dulcimer folded her long legs underneath herself, rocking on her haunches, 'I know you'll make the right decision, Sander. Or at least, a very interesting one.'

She laughed. At least, she transmitted a telepathic imprint that Sander had come to identify as the laughter of the Dullahan. It was a sensation that everyone on his crew were familiar with, but none were able to outwardly describe, in the same way it was impossible to codify an emotion. The only thing they had been able to agree on was that it left them with a lightheaded feeling. 

Still, he was lost in thought, the sensation barely grazing his awareness; perhaps it was the liquor thinking for him, but he felt like he was onto a great idea, 'Yeah...' He said softly. 

'Hey Hackett!' Mara's voice blasted out from the nearest speaker, making Sander jump in fright. Beside him, Dulcimer merely leaned back, unperturbed.

'Yes, Mara?' Sander replied to the air, safely assuming that Jericho would reroute the sound through to wherever she was. 

'You're needed in the bedroom!' He could hear the familiar note of lustful urgency in her voice, which in turn filled him with a kind of happy apprehension; whatever happened next, it would either be really fun, or really scary. 

... Which could also be really fun.

'Well, I've been summoned,' He shrugged, getting to his feet. He grinned back at Dulsie, 'And we all know I can't ignore that.'

*********************

'Well, that took you long enough,' Mara arched an eyebrow from the bed as he opened the door. She leaned back on her hands, crossing one leg over the other. She was also wearing her little black dress. Sander grinned.

'Oh, that is just...' He paused, struggling between "great," and "scary." 'Something.'

The dress evoked many, heated memories, and it was with considerable eagerness that Sander strode into the room and took Mara in his arms, kissing her deeply. She went with it for a while, pressing back against him with a giggling little moan. When she pulled away, she held him at arm's length, shaking her head.

'Oh, you think it's me I called you in for!' She laughed. 'Oh, that's kind of cute, but no. No, I got a new toy recently, remember? I'm the kind of girl who shares her toys, Hackett...'

Her eyes darted away, she pointed to their walk-in closet, and clicked her fingers. Sander could practically feel what was coming in the back of his mind, but her dazzling smile sealed it. The door slid soundlessly open, and from within the little chamber, out walked Lorna. Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers locked and fidgeting. Sander blinked.

He had no idea how long Mara had lingered here with Lorna, nor how much of her- large, varied- wardrobe had been tested in the process, but the end result was certainly impressive. Gone were the simple military clothes she had worn when she had arrived, and with it her utilitarian look. She wore a simple red dress, lacking any kind of decoration; still, it showed off her generous curves far better than the Church's uniform. The dress terminated high on her thighs, giving Sander an excellent view of her well-muscled legs as she stood tall, eyeing him defiantly. Eventually, once he had treated himself to a look at what Lorna's new clothes had done to her cleavage, he allowed himself to meet her gaze.

Now, her hair fell loose, and it was amazing what such a simple thing had done to her; Lorna now practically oozed the femininity that the military had aimed to strip away from her, something aided in no small part by her newly red lips and smoky eyes. However, she looked uncomfortable with her appearance, ironically far more uncomfortable with this than with her earlier nudity. Gamma girls were weird. 

Mara pushed him off to one side, abandoning him on the bed as she sauntered over to Lorna as she stood there, very pointedly showing no fear. Soldiers were made of sterner stuff, they had to be; even backed into a corner like this she stared Mara down, every step of the way. She barely even flinched when the blonde draped herself over her shoulders.

She turned Lorna to face the mirror set into the wall, 'Look at you now, hmm? Tell me you don't like what you see.'

It looked to Sander like she was seeing herself for the first time; her eyes went wide as she saw the person in the mirror. There stood a woman, not a soldier, not a citizen of the Gamma forests, but a decidedly adult female in her prime. He watched as her eyes slid over her own body with a look of odd, strained credulity, like she could hardly believe she was looking at her reflection and not some other, more decadent and sinful person.

Again Mara turned her, pushing her back around to face Sander, 'Now him. You can tell he likes what he sees, Lorna. Look in his eyes, he wants you. Well, Sander? Do you want her?'

She shot him a look that, for a moment, iced his blood. Her deep blue eyes looked right through him, amusement and... something else glittering at their core. It was a look that communicated a lot; mostly a deep, dark longing. The kind that ended with rope burn on his wrists and pain in places that ought not be in pain. It was a worrisome look, but undeniably... fun. 

'Yeah, I do,' He answered quickly. He knew the mood that Mara was getting in, and after so many years he understood what she wanted from him. Long answers or second guessing her logic wouldn't be tolerated. He'd spent more than a little time pondering over this submissive side of him, that he could apparently slip on and off and fitted him like a glove, but had long ago realized that it didn't really hurt to just go with it. At least, not in an entirely bad way. 

The woman smiled, pushing Lorna closer. She kept in step with the Gamma native, as if she didn't want to be terribly far from the action as it occurred, 'Well, that's good news. Because you've been enlisted, Hackett... It struck me that Lorna still needs a little lovin', but I figure a real man would be more fun than if I just pretended to be one for her. Besides, this way I get to watch,' She winked, and leaned in to run a finger down Sander's chest. 

The soldier stiffened at that, but remained silent. Her pride wouldn't allow her to be visibly daunted by the prospect, but her heart was beating, pounding in her chest. She felt ill at ease, like her own skin was alien to her; Mara had wrapped her up in the kind of clothes she would never have dreamt of wearing in the outside world, and they had... changed her, in a way. 

Lorna had seen men staring at her before, of course she had, but she had never invited the male gaze like she was now. Sander's stare was different, with a more appreciative edge and an intensity that she had never been subjected to before. She found herself shifting her weight uncomfortably, without meaning to; she could practically feel his eyes on the gentle, graceful curve of her hips, and beneath the tight fabric of the dress, her skin crawled.

It was a feeling she had never really felt before, being completely powerless to stop something bad from happening. The moment she had come of age she had left the Gamma Forests specifically to avoid feeling like she wasn't in control of her own life; the Church had given her refuge and experience in the outside world, as well as the very important choice of where she would be stationed. The first time she had looked at that map, brimming with stars and worlds and space stations, just waiting for her to pick... She believed the term was "paralysis of choice." 

'Hey, Hackett...' Mara giggled a little, her fingers gripping a little tighter on Lorna's shoulders, pushing her closer to the man. 'I know you've already seen her naked from a distance, but... I want to see you unwrap her. She's my gift to you, tonight... Take your time with her.'

With that, she moved away, sidling up behind her boyfriend and laying her hands, gently but firmly, onto his shoulders instead. He felt a chill go down his spine, like Mara had just yanked his chain particularly hard. His fingers twitched as he reached up, eyes lingering on the softly lit, pale skin of Lorna's collarbone as he waited- and sensed that Mara was too- for the Gamma girl to flinch or pull away. To his surprise, she didn't, standing before him with her head held high, as his palms gently slid onto her breasts, just below the neckline of the dress. 

His fingers hooked into the fabric there, and he felt Mara's fingers dance across his shirt, as slowly, just as slowly as she wanted, he pulled down Lorna's top, exposing inch upon inch of creamy, luscious cleavage to their sight, topped with the kind of perky, pink nipples that just begged to feel lips around them. Lorna's eyes burned defiantly into Sander, but he didn't even bother keeping her gaze for a single second; his attention was being guided by the blonde behind him, and there was no way he would escape the vortex of her direction, even for a second. Eventually, the fabric crested the bulge of Lorna's chest and lost all tautness, slipping quickly down to rest beneath her bust, just begging to be pulled down further.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 18



No bra... the message Mara had intended was clear; beautiful, yet undeniably slutty. Sexual, with more than a hint of desperation. A magnified, directed sexuality, totally at odds with Lorna's previous nonchalant, easy sex appeal. The fact that it clearly made her uncomfortable only amplified the feeling, making Sander reach out unbidden to touch her bare flesh for the first time. The moment he did so, he felt Mara's nails dig into his shoulders.

'No, I didn't say you could do that yet, Hackett,' He felt her shaking her head, the tips of her hair tickling slightly at his neck. 'I want to see you unwrap your toy completely before you play with it. Take down her dress...'

Doing his best to avoid even grazing a knuckle against Lorna's cleavage, Sander obediently slid the dress down further. Lorna felt herself begin to squirm; this was so much worse than simply being naked in front of these people. That was bad, yes, because it implied a set of actions would be taken against her that she would rather not even hear about, but this? This was sinful. This was directly sexual; she wasn't undressing, or changing clothes, or running through the forest bare skinned anymore. No, she was being undressed, stripped of her clothes- by a man she had barely met, let alone been betrothed to- with a singular purpose. Worse, he seemed to enjoy the process far more than he had her complete nudity beforehand.

She found that odd, but she could guess at the reasoning; many of the Church's soldiers left their religion at the door when they went on shore leave, and Lorna had heard more than a few snatched lines of conversation about the houses of ill repute some of the young men had visited. It seemed to her that the threat of nudity was somehow more alluring to the senses than simple, matter of fact nakedness. Or even seductive nakedness; the things those boys tended to imagine where often far more complex- not to mention anatomically impossible in one or two cases- than the reality could ever hope to be. 

By and large Lorna had been happy to let them keep their fantasies because it generally meant that they'd stop going after her for a little while, at least. But she had never gotten it herself, nor considered herself in need of the knowledge in the first place; she believed she was beginning to get the hang of it, looking into the deeply appreciative gaze of Sander Hackett, as he slipped her dress down over her hips and let it fall to the floor. To her horror, she had begun to blush at the thought of him seeing what lay beneath that layer of harlotry. 

Sander grinned. Mara followed. Both stared.

Mara had chosen well, but that was no surprise; time and again, the woman had shown a knack for the delicate art of eye candy. Perhaps she went too heavy at it from time to time, but that was beside the point...

The point was, Lorna was wearing something sheer and elegant. Something no doubt quite expensive, if Mara's previous tastes in clothing were any indication, but Sander was sure that his bank balance could take the strain, and it was worth it, just to see the occasional sight like this one. The thong was the kind of black lace that made him want to take it down with his teeth; so fragile to view, and only just opaque enough to leave things to the imagination. A flowing design travelled the length of the crotch, set on a background of pure white skin. Sander almost leaned back to kiss Mara for that, but knew better than to even try. She would let him know when she was ready to let him touch her. 

It was then that he took eye contact with Lorna, and the way she looked away, apparently embarrassed for the first time, told him everything he needed to know. He wondered where Mara had done it; had she propped Lorna up on the bathroom counter, back against the chilled surface of the mirror, and had her open her legs? Had the Gamma girl squirmed and struggled against the razor, as Mara had gone to work on the dark hair that had once grown between her legs? Had the intimate touches, which still must have been so alien to the soldier, made her wet, just a little? 

Even those images were perfect in their eroticism. Sander debated with himself over whether or not to ask, and potentially spoil the product of his imagination. He decided against it.

'Turn around, Lorna,' Mara said, voice so soft it had almost been a whisper, but contained of an inner strength that brooked no opposition. 'Show him the back. He'll like the back...'

With a disdainful grunt, Lorna turned, feet stomping on the thick carpet as she did so. The first thing Sander noticed, because he was taking his time and ensuring he drank in all there was to see of her, was the highly attractive way her flowing brown hair curled around the tightly wound musculature of her back. In fact, the woman herself was practically a work of art, body honed from years running through her forest home, before yet more time spent in basic training at the Clergy. The fact that the thing she was wearing more than lived up to its name, and Lorna's bottom was on full display, was just the icing on the cake.

'Touch her,' Mara's voice was like silk, sliding into his ear with the caress of her breath on his neck. 'Pull that thing down, finish the job.'

He didn't even need to be told, his hand was already reaching out before Mara had finished her sentence. Lorna's frown deepened as she was divested of her last- admittedly meager- protection against the pair's prurient interests. Her instincts were screaming in her head, racing through her muscles; she wanted nothing more than to lash out. If she was quick, she could probably knock out the man currently running his fingers down her thighs, but she would inevitably be caught out by the woman, who no doubt could speak faster than she herself could react.

She felt her hands ball into fists, ready to attack, as Sander's hands roughly gripped her hips and turned her around, allowing her to finally turn her baleful gaze to the man himself. Sander seemed wrapped up, not just in her bare body, but in Mara's cooing, whispering tone of voice. As she spoke to him, he seemed to hang on every word; not dependently, but with a symbiotic air, like they were feeding off of each other to produce something new. 

Mara's lips brushed the lobe of his ear as she spoke, voice now so low Lorna could only hear it as an indistinct, sensuous whisper. When she finally pulled away from him, it was to put her feet back on the carpet and grip Lorna by the wrist, dragging her to the bed and down onto it. Only the weight of the Collar around her neck stopped her from resisting. Still, she glared at them as venomously as she could. Mara only smiled slyly in return, and pressed a single finger to Lorna's chest, pushing her down onto her back. 

The Gamma native kept her gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling; she knew very well what was going to happen next, and though the very prospect made her heart beat faster in her chest, and entire prayers to flow through her head, she still didn't have to pay it any attention. Besides, the mere sound of it all was bad enough; Mara's giggling voice, and Sander's zipper descending. The urge to run was almost unbearable, and her mind wheeled through as many escape attempts as she could produce. Even so, she came up blank.

Silently, Sander parted her legs, insinuating himself between her knees as every muscle in her tensed. He was naked, but Lorna was only given a moment to appreciate that fact before she felt strong hands take her wrists and guide them above her head. She felt something cool encircle them.

'It's more fun watching you squirm in chains,' Mara's grin was razor edged and filled with teeth, as she snapped closed the leather-lined cuffs and anchored them to the headboard. 'More fun for me, I mean. Watching.'

Suddenly she had something to struggle against, and all of Lorna's anger at the situation seemed to come out at once; metal rattled incessantly against metal as she hauled on the cuffs, growling in the back of her throat, to little effect. Mara's fingers drummed gently against the bare skin of her chest as she held her down against the bed, ceasing her struggles.

'Now now, stop that. That's altogether too violent, Gamma girl,' Mara cooed, her bright smile filling Lorna's vision momentarily, before she looked up to regard her boyfriend. 'I want her to squirm in an entirely different way, Hackett. Think you're up to that?'

'Yes, Mara,' Sander answered shortly, and in response the blonde repositioned herself between them and off to one side, able to look down equally on Lorna and Sander's bodies. She licked her lips, 'Do it, Hackett. Slowly. I wanna watch it happen.'

Sander took a moment to blink in surprise at his girlfriend. He didn't really know what to make of this newly acquired voyeuristic streak of hers, but he had to admit, it excited him. Or maybe it was never this, maybe it was just her as it always was; Mara, in her element. Mara, sex on legs with her words and actions flowing like liquid helium. Mara Syfte, the only woman who could hold Sander Hackett's leash successfully.

Now that was love...

Lorna could see it too, though somehow it made it worse. The perversity of these two- and there was no other word for it- was on full display; lovers committed to an act of adultery... But for different reasons. The blonde was clearly in it for the pleasures of the flesh, nothing more. Sinful little woman. But the man, he was different. She could see that. Every now and then she could see anger in him, not directed at her specifically, but almost through her. Lorna got the feeling she was nothing more than a symbol to him, of something much greater. Given the way he had spoken earlier, she had to assume it was the Doctor. 

As she felt the tip of his hardness prod between her forced-open legs- the first man to do so- she felt the sheer weight of how unfair this was. She had only met the Doctor once! And now here she was, landed in this perverse trap, violated and about to be dragged into a grotesque sin, and for what? Would the Doctor even care? Would he ever even know that this had happened to her?

She felt panic rising now, as the thought of having to bear this sin as it was foisted upon her filled her mind. Her wrists tugged uselessly at the cuffs once more, before she realized that, no matter the effort she put into it, she wasn't going anywhere. In situations like these, the Doctrine was clear; bear it with as much dignity and grace as one could muster. Pray later, but persist, in the moment. 

'Oh look, she's trembling!' Mara gave a throaty laugh, and turned Sander's face with her hand. 'Isn't that hot?, Sander?'

Her eyes glinted, she looked practically insane from Lorna's position, but Sander nodded his agreement, his own arousal at the situation completely, and physiologically, evident in the harsh redness of his member. Lorna caught herself staring at it as it got unerringly close to her long safeguarded virginity, with the same kind of apprehension and curiosity she had experienced upon first handling a rifle. 

Given what she knew of this man, perhaps comparing his genitals to a weapon wasn't such an inaccurate thing to do...

Mara seemed to take his assent as a signal, and she leaned in to press her mouth against the man's, apparently hard enough to take him by surprise. He leaned back as she began to support her weight using him, forcing her tongue into his mouth with the kind of throwaway passion few could even aspire to. Without even looking, her free hand glided down Sander's well muscled back to grip his bottom and, in the heat of the moment, added an insistent pressure that forced him to move his hips forward. 

The effect was near instantaneous, and Lorna failed to stop herself from crying out in alarm. With her tongue still exploring the back of his throat, Mara pushed Sander's hips inexorably forward, sliding the tip of his length between Lorna's unsuspecting folds and inside her. More of him followed, as Lorna squirmed against the restraints that held her in place, and the pair of her captors continued to lose themselves in their deep, heated kiss. Lorna quickly realized what she was, here; she wasn't a person, a soldier, a woman or even a hostage. She was a tool for these people. Nearer to a toy, actually. Something to be used for their perverse pleasure. 

If sex was happening, it wasn't really between her and Sander. Actually, it was Sander and Mara that were having sex; she was just the receptacle they were using for their pleasure.

'Go slow,' Mara murmured between long, slow kisses with an overabundance of tongue. Her fingers played over the thick mass of scar tissue on his shoulder, an almost automatic response honed over years of intimacy, 'Make her feel it, all of it...'

Lorna shifted her hips, spread her legs wider in an attempt to lessen the discomfort of Sander's invasion of her body. She glared up at him as she did so, doing her best to send the message that it was merely an issue of comfort for her, not a sign of acquiescence. All the time she felt the strictures they had placed on her, the cuffs and the Collar, keeping her pinned down here when every instinct she had screamed for her to struggle. Her training with the Church, conflicting with the learning instilled to her by the Gamma Doctrine.

Mara's eyes were on him, and his on her, even as he pushed himself slowly into her and she felt every inch of him sliding into her virgin depths they paid her no attention. She let loose a little growl of frustration which got their attention; Mara giggled infuriatingly and shook her head, gesturing with maddening confidence for silence. Lorna's lip curled in contempt as she began to get interest in the worst of ways; Mara's hands glided over her body, exploring her with a feeling of true ownership that made Lorna's heart pound in her chest, faster than before.

She closed her eyes against their attentions, hushed and rapid prayers coming to her lips, as natural as breathing, warding against the onslaught of sin her captors represented. There was a place inside her head she could go, there had to be, a place beyond her body, the throne of the soul... Somewhere away from this...

'Hey, don't drift off,' Mara's voice raked through her mind, drawing her back into her skin. 'Sander, lift your game, the poor thing's almost falling asleep! I want to see her squirm. Come on, I know you know how...' Her tongue dove into his mouth again, withdrawing just long enough to whisper to him, 'Unless you're looking for me to punish you...'

Sander shook his head but otherwise remained silent, giving her a slightly sheepish smile as she guided his hands to Lorna's hips, whispering something indistinct to him that caused his fingers to tighten, digging into her skin, just a little. His strange parody of sex became more focused, his thrusts longer and deeper, as Mara got a little closer to her. A command was whispered in her ear in a closed in, deeply powerful voice, forcing her to open her eyes, to slip back into reality. Mara's lips brushed her cheek, sliding up into a feather-light kiss that caused Lorna to recoil in shock. 

'This is just one big first for you, isn't it, Lorna?' Mara purred, licking her lips. 'You get your little cherry popped, you get touched just all over... Quite a party, Gamma girl...'

She didn't speak, merely gritted her teeth and tried to direct her mind away from her situation even as Sander's eyes bored into her own. Her breath fluttered in her throat; the sensations being produced in her body were still new to her, but they were dreadfully familiar. Memories of her first encounter flooded her, as Mara's practiced fingers, the first to touch her this way, stimulated her body with ease. Lorna's Maiden's Water first coated her pussy, then dripped down her thighs as Sander's cock drew in and out of her. 

She squirmed shamefully, feeling her wetness seep out of her, whispering her song-like prayers and trying to find some position within her limited range of movement that would lessen the awkward, building pleasure within her. But of course, as she moved Sander moved too, keeping himself within her, ensuring that he hit the spots inside her that made her squirm for an entirely different reason. How could her body betray her like this?

A leaden weight had fallen to the pit of her stomach, and her eyes welled with tears she blinked back, unwilling to show weakness before her tormentors. But that physical sensation of dread competed with the more pressing, sweeping lust that she struggled with every step of the way. She didn't think she could handle it a second time.

That first time, when Mara had begun tormenting her, and her ascent to the peak of her first orgasm had only just begun, Lorna had thought she was above it, that she could resist. As her torment had progressed and it had become obvious that it was inevitable, she had been forced to rethink her stance, coming to the realization that she could certainly be forced to spill her Water... and then there came the moments just before her first orgasm had come upon her.

In those moments, Lorna had been confronted with the very real possibility that her body could want things counter to what her mind-or her soul- required. As her climb to orgasm had reached its dreadful, inevitable peak... She had ached for it. Her entire body had contracted around it, again and again, and it had been awfully, wonderfully addictive. Her cheeks colored with the shame of the admission, even if it had just been to herself. 

She had understood, in that moment, the true nature of the sin, the way it wormed past her self control and right into her body. It had thrown her thought processes into a full stop, made her to scream and shake and moan, unable to quell the torrent of wetness that had flooded her thighs. And, as Sander fucked her, she felt in coming upon her again.

Oh, she tried to fight against it, of course she did. Inexperienced though she might be, Lorna wasn't naïve; the situation as it stood now was very different from the last time. Mara's mean little toys could continue to needle at her until the blonde got what she wanted, but Sander would tire and, in time, desire his own release. All Lorna really had to do was wait him out and-as hard as it was to say so- let him cum.

'Mara?' Sander's eyes slid to his girlfriend, a peculiar sense of questioning to be found there. Something had changed in him, even Lorna could see it; there was a restraint in his eyes and a strain in his muscles that hadn't been there before. When she had first had the misfortune of meeting him, there had been a tired kind of confidence to him that was missing now, as he looked to Mara with increasing frequency, as if for approval. For a single, solitary moment, Lorna wondered about the dynamics of their relationship.

'No, Hackett,' The blonde shook her head, a lopsided smile on her face. Sander had known her for too long to be surprised that she had answered before waiting for him to actually ask a question, nor even that she knew instinctively that he was nearing his climax. 'Not yet. For either of you... I'm not done enjoying the show.'

Sander nodded, grunting his assent as he slowed the pace of his fucking, in turn causing Lorna to shudder, the unique angle of his cock inside her touching some sensitive place within, now for longer than it had in past. Now, she could properly feel it. Now, she jerked with each inward thrust, her thighs tensing as distinct waves of coercive pleasure washed over her. In his endeavor to prevent his own orgasm, Sander was only bringing her closer to hers. When Mara's finger touched her clit, the problem increased a hundredfold. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 18



The pad of the blonde's finger was soft and ridiculously skilled, and Lorna surged higher as her little button was manipulated. Her muscles tensed, contracting almost to the point of aching. As desire built between her legs to a soundtrack of the squishing wetness of her pussy, Lorna began to wonder whether it would be better to just give in and let it happen, just to get it over with. Or was that just weakness?

Moments later she came to the conclusion that it didn't really matter; no matter how hard she struggled against the heat rising within her, she could not overcome it. In the end, she would have an orgasm. She would sin, and in a way it was a relief to realize it; the choice had been taken out of her hands. 

However, Mara clearly had other plans. 

'No no, Gamma girl,' She shook her head, her eyes sweeping Lorna's pale curves in a close inspection of her body, looking for those little telltale signs of a woman in ecstasy. She shifted the position of her finger on Lorna's clit, pressing her thumb to the top... and squeezed.

There was pain to it, and shock, and a truly unsettling degree of pleasure, but the main effect of it was to distance Lorna from her impending climax, sending it spinning out of her reach. Lorna cried out, and Mara giggled, the sound labored in a very familiar way. When Lorna's eyes flicked over to regard the blonde, she saw the skirt of that little black dress she wore was hiked up, Mara's free hand disappearing under the hem, working brazenly at her own pussy, as Sander worked in Lorna's. 

For a moment, the silence was broken only by the sounds of the threesome's labored breathing.

'I don't want this to end just yet,' Mara whispered in Sander's ear. 'And trust me, you don't want to do what I don't want, Hackett. Not tonight... So be a good boy and hold off... Like I know you can.'

It was a familiar, torturous process to Sander, and as of the night before Lorna knew how it all went down too; the cycle of ups and downs, surging pleasure and pinching discomfort, like having one's nerves on a bungee cord. If Lorna's last encounter with Mara hadn't been enough to convince her that the blonde knew what she was doing, this one definitely was. The Gamma native found herself being played like an instrument, trying desperately to stop herself from making the sounds that Mara and Sander so clearly wanted.

With each repetition of near climax and dragging, focused pain, the need to have it all end only intensified. That was the part that made Lorna truly apprehensive; she could be made to want it. No matter how hard she prayed, how she steeled her mind against the sensations building in the pit of her belly, more and more she ached for it. More and more she twitched, practically moving her hips to meet Sander's- by now slow and deliberate- thrusts. She moaned freely, helplessly, only hoping that she sounded more indignant and despairing than aroused. Her body gleamed with sweat.

Even Sander didn't seem to be faring entirely well out of this configuration; his jaw was set, fingers gripping the sheets on the bed as his eyes locked on the middle distance. The same control that Mara was exerting on Lorna was also being felt by Sander, though with a more clearly mental component than the physical control she was forced to employ on the Gamma girl. Lorna wasn't familiar with their history, but it felt to her that there was a longstanding tug of war between the two; Sander kept seeming to check in with Mara, the pair probing each other for weakness. Mara's gaze carried a level of expectation that caused Sander to return to his task, visibly frustrated over and over again.

'Mara, c'mon,' Sander seemed to give in first, his eyes wide as he entreated the woman currently shivering, two knuckles deep inside herself. 'Can I... Can I do what I do, yet? Please?' He added the last part self consciously, with downcast eyes. Lorna could almost hear him suppressing his desire to simple take hold of her and force his climax upon her. Admittedly, that thought did make her highly uncomfortable...

'That depends, Hackett,' Mara gave him a grin that practically bore down on the man, very much a visual representation of sheer sexual power. 'Are you going to be a good Sander and take care of me after? Exactly the way I'm thinking of?'

'Yes! Fine!' Sander almost squeaked. 'Anything you want, Mara! Anything at all!'

'Good,' Mara growled, pressing her forehead against his, the two of them eye to eye for the longest time, utterly silent except for their lustful panting. All the time, Sander continued thrusting in and out of Lorna, not daring to stop with Mara so close, even for a second. 'You know what? Yeah. Do it. Hard. I want to see it, Sander. Make it hurt...'

Her hand left the apex of Lorna's splayed legs, and moments later Sander felt her nails rake down his back, making him shudder in a way he hadn't for a good, long time. Almost since he had first discovered this in him, this submissive side. It was the promise of sex and pain, and he knew that tonight would max him out far more than he had been expecting earlier, sitting by the window with a bottle of booze. 

At least this time, it would be exhausting in a way he might like... Or at least dislike in a pleasant way...

But for right now, he had something to concentrate on. He had Mara, and he had Lorna... And the former had just given him a direction regarding the latter. And how nice was it to have an immediately achievable goal in sight, anyway? He smiled.

Lorna grunted her discomfort as Sander transformed one of his slow, careful withdrawals into an angry, powerful thrust, his hips colliding with hers hard enough to force her head against the headboard. A floodgate had opened in his mind, and all of his pent up lust burst out in a burning torrent, pounding into Lorna. He fucked her relentlessly, growling wordlessly with every thrust, Mara's serene, joyful smile looming over them both. It was ever present in Lorna's vision, as the blonde watched and waited, looking for that inevitable change...

Because as rough as it was, it was still sex. Lorna found herself growing closer and closer to the worst among the sins of lust. Every muscle in her drew tight against her will, as Sander used her body. Hard enough to hurt.

Red arcs of pain skittered up her hips as Sander's cock crashed into her, the sound of their flesh slamming together filling up the room, to a backing track of Mara's moans, as her fingers worked inside of herself, over and over. The blonde's eyes were heavy lidded and filled with lust, soft wet sounds issuing from under her dress. Her lips parted as she moaned, even as Lorna gritted her teeth against Sander's invasive sex. 

She shivered. He was being rough, almost to the point of brutality, his fingers digging into her skin as he used her, but... it was still sending pleasure through her body. Why was she responding like this? What was wrong with her?

'Come on, Lorna,' Mara grinned, stopping to shake, just a little as her fingers slid into her particularly deeply. 'I know you're close. Let's see it happen...'

Lorna's cheeks burned with shame as she bounced on Sander's cock, the words sinking into her. Was it really that outwardly visible? Was... Was she really that brazen?

Her prayers slipped, stopped... and she came.

In her mind there was silence, as her body shrieked in ecstasy. In the space of a second, her back arched off the bed as Sander ploughed into her one last time, and she erupted into orgasm. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp for air, eyes wide and staring as tears dripped down her cheeks in a pair of wet trails.

Distantly, she felt Sander let loose at roughly the same time, unable to keep it in any longer. The tiny part of her mind that was still thinking of anything other than the rushing pleasure screaming through her nerves realized that the warmth she was feeling was his seed spilling inside her, the first man to do so. Her tears flowed faster at this, but she couldn't help but grind her hips against him, her body demanding more of his length within her. 

She coated his cock with her juices; her wetness flowed in a sticky torrent, splashing against her legs, his hips, and spreading across the sheets below, surrounding them all in dampness. Lorna Bucket's Maiden's Water spilled once more as her first fuck reached its conclusion and she was dragged across a deeply entrenched line within her heart. 

Beside her, she felt Mara quaking with her own orgasm, the blonde's masturbation contriving to have them arrive at that climactic point as close to simultaneously as possible. She had gotten it just about right, her breath catching in her throat, a moment of stillness lost in orgasm. 

The silence that followed was lost on Lorna, the sound of her heartbeat crashing in her ears when she was finally allowed to relax on the damp patch she had made on the bed. Sander slipped out of her and Mara merely knelt there beside her, panting and giggling under her breath. Even Sander let out a deep, throaty laugh as he leaned back on his hands and watched Lorna recover. 

'You like that, Lorna?' Mara purred, a tad unsteadily as she drew her fingers, fresh from her pussy and still gleaming with her own juices, across Lorna's chest, over the gentle swelling of her breasts. She left a sticky, glistening trail on the brunette's rather large, heaving breasts and watched it shift in the light as Lorna gasped for breath. When she was done, Mara repeated the process, this time with the mixture of Lorna's own juices and Sander's cum that leaked from her overused cunt. She daubed Lorna's chest in the sticky liquid as the brunette first regained her senses, then realized what was happening and glared at Mara, saying a string of possibly very mean things in the flowing, silvery language of the Gamma foresters. 

When she was done, Mara's eyes locked with Sander's, gleaming madly, 'Release her. Send her back to her cell. It's you and me now. Quickly. Quickly.'

Without even a moment of hesitation, Sander moved to unlock Lorna from the headboard. When he gathered up that long-ignored red dress from its place on the floor, Mara grabbed his wrist, hard enough to hurt. 

'No! What are you, stupid?' She snapped. 'She's walking back naked.'

'What?' Lorna exclaimed, the concept too much for her to remain silent over. 

'Oh yeah,' Mara nodded. 'Command: Lorna, you're to walk back to your cell, hands at your sides. Don't let anyone stop you. Jerry will light your way, so just follow the track lighting on the floor.'

She clicked her tongue with satisfaction as, with mechanical obedience, Lorna lifted herself off of the bed and stood on shaking legs. She padded, stripped naked and silent, to the door, swallowing nervously as it opened and exposed her to the corridor beyond. The sticky mixture cooled on her chest, drying there as evidence of the sins committed in the room behind her. Nudity alone didn't bother her at all, but...

Like this, marked and facing an unknown complex filled with strangers entirely willing to take liberties with her body, Lorna's nakedness struck fear into her heart.

The door hadn't even closed all the way before Mara jumped Sander, crash tackling him to the ground. She pinned him there, sharp edged grin adorning her face like a crown. And she was royalty here. Though there were many instances in their past love life that proved completely that Sander was very much stronger than her, when she was like this, with the heat and the darkness pounding through her veins, Sander was completely weak before her. 

She was magnificent, and he was hers.

She fucked him there, on the floor, the sounds echoing out down the hallway with no fear of being heard. When she was done with him, he found it hard to walk straight for quite a while.

************

Sander grinned like a fool as he looked out over the faces of his crew. The sun was shining, he had regained the ability to sit down without flinching- evidenced by his cross-legged rocking atop the group's breakfast table- and a brand new day had dawned, replete with more energy than he knew what to do with. 

In the moment, he used it to notice, quite quickly, that for the rest of the crew it was far too early for that level of enthusiasm. 

'Okay guys,' He closed his eyes for a moment and wondered whether anyone here would actually go for his plan. On the one hand, there was still so much to do here, but on the other...

On the other, he would be the one paying, which he knew would at least put Ren onside. 

'We've been through kind of a lot these past few days,' He continued, frowning a little as he spoke. 'And all of it completely unexpected. Honestly, Doctor stuff is one thing, I think we all knew that would be coming, but Walker? The fuck did that come from?'

'Understatement,' Ren deadpanned, yawning. 'What's your point? Did you even have one, or were you just trying to dredge up stuff for us?'

'My point is this: we're all stressed. None of us are functioning as we should, and if we don't do something about it, something bad will happen. If we let it build up, it's only a matter of time before one of us fucks up, and we all end up paying for it: this game we're playing has very high stakes, and just one mistake could make us lose. So, I've been thinking it over, and now that Kanaria's on her feet again, I have a plan.'

He jumped to his feet, grinned and allowed the sunlight to shine on him for a moment, warming him up.

'Ladies and gentle... Tsugi,' He said. 'We're going on vacation.'

To be continued...

 Like what you read? Votes and feedback are super-appreciated. Thanks for reading! 



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 19



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey folks, here's the next chapter! Time for a change of venue! How exciting! Anyway, special thanks to mine wife, D, LogicalDreamer and Allyourbase, for their help and feedback on this chapter. If you yourself have any feedback, please don't hesitate to vote, comment or what have you. I love it when y'all do!

Enjoy!

*****************

Ren stared up, eyes narrowed as the sun dipped low over the hulking mass before her. She stroked her chin, the toe of her boot tapping an absent rhythm on the concrete. When Sander sidled up beside her, she didn't so much as acknowledge his presence for quite a while, merely staring on in speculative silence for a time before she spoke up.

'Where did you get this ship?' She asked, a little suspiciously. Now her gaze moved, regarding Sander with the same deadpan apprehension she had been giving him ever since his mystery declaration that morning. 

'I bought it,' He shrugged, smiling widely. 'Fourth generation Terran workmanship, designed and built by Hackett Industries. She's a real classic: the Gespenst.'

'I don't know many people who can afford an antique cruiser by themselves,' She replied.

'You don't know many people who were CEOs of their own company, and unrepentant about embezzling from the same, do you?' Sander lilted, tilting his head back to breathe deeply of the fresh and unspoiled air of Trismestigius. 'And the Gespenst is not an antique, she's a classic. These things were flying around New Earth as the very first convoy ships after the colonization effort had been completed. My grandfather designed this ship.'

'And now you're going to spirit us all offworld on this ship, but you won't tell us where we're going,' Ren said flatly. 

'Pretty much,' He grinned, continuing on to the ship itself, dragging a floating pallet of supplies up the ramp to the cargo bay. They would only be on the ship for the day or so- or at least, the twenty-four hour cycle- they would be in transit at near lightspeed, but the group was rather large when one factored in Sally and Lorna, and as a result there was quite a bit of essential packing to be done. Mara was already working in the depths of the cargo bay, loading their luggage into the rows of polished metal compartments along the sides of the bay, and momentarily Ren ventured up the ramp to assist. 

Tsugi and Kanaria sat leaning against the ship, in the shade its bulk provided, talking quietly together. The entire crew had been unwilling to give Kanaria much to do in preparation for their impromptu voyage, and she herself had been unwilling to part with Tsugi for very long; apparently he had taken up as her de facto caregiver while she was healing. Frankly, everyone knew what was really going on, leading to many a secretive grin when the pair had turned their backs. 

Off to one side, grouped loosely together by the now inactive fuelling pump, four Command Collars gleamed in the sunlight, their respective wearers dressed properly for the first time in a while and watching the proceedings with varying degrees of interest. Christina sat practically alone, seemingly scanning the actions of the crew, probably for something she could later exploit. It hardly mattered, given that the new and improved Collars had functions she had no way of knowing about, set to stymie any escape attempt she cared to offer.

Of greater interest, at least to Sander, was the grouping of Amy, Lorna and Sally, conversing with each other in hushed tones in a rough huddle. Sander had no specific problem with allowing the girls to talk freely with each other, though he had to admit a certain level of interest in the content of the conversation itself; how exactly would someone in their positions begin to relate to the others? 

Still, it made things interesting if the companions had some secrets amongst themselves. Perhaps such things could even be drawn out of them later, using some... inventive methods...

******

Amy's heart had skipped a beat when she had first laid eyes on the pair of women Sander had introduced as Lorna and Sally. She found herself immediately aching to meet them, with an intensity that had shocked her, until she considered it a little more closely; as comforting as it was to have Christina with her, to no longer be alone in her ordeal, the brunette wasn't exactly a forthcoming conversationalist. Whether it was the shock of being kidnapped or just her natural temperament, the few opportunities Amy had had to speak with her fellow captive, Christina had been remarkably unwilling. In fact, she had seemed so focused on enacting her own escape that Amy got the feeling that, if push came to shove, she herself would be nothing more than a tool for the noblewoman to use and discard, if it meant getting out of that Collar.

Not so with Lorna and Sally, and finally having someone to talk to as an equal had come as a tremendous relief to Amy's frayed mind. Their first opportunity to speak had been far too brief, under the watchful eyes of the entire crew during that morning's meal; little more than an introduction. But it was enough that they had volunteered their names; they weren't as clearly self-serving as Christina. Possible allies, at last.

Now, with the majority of the crew wrapped up in preparations for taking them all to some other place- an idea that, based on the last time it had happened, filled Amy with dread- the three of them were finally able to speak freely. The pair of newcomers, having apparently arrived together, stuck close to each other instinctively, each seeing the other as their only confirmable ally. Even with the presence of the Command Collar around her neck, Amy was received with suspicion, and the conversation was halting, at first.

'You've been here the longest, haven't you?' Sally asked eventually, once it had become clear that Amy wasn't a threat. 'What did you say your name was, again?'

'I'm Amy Pond... And should I be worried that you can tell that right away?' Before Amy had even finished talking, she noticed a pronounced reaction, almost like a flinch, from Lorna at the mention of her name. She was curious, but not enough to press the issue just yet.

'Oh, you just seem more, um, at ease with this whole situation than the other woman,' Sally's eyes travelled momentarily to Christina, then back to Amy, as though she didn't want the noblewoman noticing her staring. 'So, you must have some idea of what's going on, right? Why we're all here?'

'You've met Sander, I take it?' Amy said somberly. 'It's pretty much what he keeps talking about.'

'Him with the Doctor fascination?' Sally's voice cracked. 'Yes, we've met, and I refuse to believe that's all there is to it.'

The girl shuddered, seemingly without noticing, and Amy's expression immediately softened. She'd been through all this before, and with the kind of regularity the other girls hadn't; it was easy to forget that, with her own predicament being so completely overwhelming.

'Did he...?' She spoke hesitantly, unsure of how exactly one broached the topic of Sander's crew and their... unusual proclivities.

'He did.' 

'And me,' Lorna added, a deep frown on her face. 'More than what you... what you saw, I mean. Him and the blonde woman.'

Instantly, and with infinite care, Amy placed her hands on each of the newcomer's shoulders, giving them both a reassuring squeeze. She didn't know what to tell them, as they sat in silent contemplation for a few moments, though she tried to arrange her features in such a way as to indicate that she understood completely what they were going through. 

However, her own thoughts were going a mile a minute. A small, paranoid part of her ached to be terribly blunt, and to ask the questions that would assuage her mind; she wanted to ask, had they... gotten off? Had he made them enjoy it? Or... was it just her he could do that to?

Amy fought down that impulse, knowing that there was absolutely no right time to ask that, and besides, even if she did, she knew for a fact that she would never admit to it, so why would they? No, such things were between her and her mind, at least for now.

'Why does he do it?' Sally asked, looking away. 'Why is this happening to us?'

'Mostly, I think he does it because he... they like it,' Amy said softly. 'But his original reason is to hurt the Doctor. I don't know how well you know him, but... He's more likely to be hurt if someone else is hurt in his name. Sander, he's out for revenge, and he's had a lot of time to think about how to do it.'

'But why?'

'Because the first time Sander met the Doctor, the Doctor destroyed his life,' Amy shifted uncomfortably, a part of her, larger than she would have expected, adding silently: Like he did mine. 

Fourteen years waiting, and now this... Where is he?

She almost shook her head: he would come. He always came back to her, in the end. And even if he didn't, Rory would. There was nothing Sander could do, that would stop her husband coming to get her.

Nothing.

Lorna eyed the redhead as she seemed lost in thought, gazing resolutely out over the landing pad, her brown eyes almost boring a hole into the hull of the cruiser at the other end. Frankly, she was at a loss; there were things she needed to know, if she wanted to try an escape attempt. The make, model and programming of the Command Collars they were all wearing would be an excellent start, and surely Amy had to know a little more than she herself right now. But...

But this was Amy Pond. The Amy Pond. Companion to the Doctor's eleventh regeneration. Time traveler, twenty-first century Earth girl, married to one Rory Williams... And right now, in Lorna's native present, sealed away in a secured vault at the heart of Demon's Run, unknowingly operating a Flesh duplicate of herself. 

Kovarian had done her best to keep information leaks to a minimum, but every last Clergyman- and woman- on deployment to that evil little base had known what it was they were guarding, in addition to what they were waiting for. The little hybrid baby wasn't ready yet, so all they were doing was waiting with the mother, sitting out the clock until the Silence's sick little weapon was born, to cast Amy aside like the husk of some valued fruit. 

Frankly, the idea had sickened Lorna to her core, gone against every principle she stood for, both as a follower of the Gamma Doctrine and a cleric of the Church. She had thought it enough to simply join one of the largest armies of the age and wait, knowing that the Doctor would cross her path eventually. She had only signed up for deployment to Demon's Run based on the old legend and the safe assumption that anything that old and ominous sounding had to refer to the Doctor. Had she known what was really going on there, would she have done things differently? 

Oh, but she had tried to do things differently when she got there, hadn't she? Complained to her superiors, argued that the one moral thing the Church could do, given the awful things being done at Demon's Run and the even worse things yet to come, was to mount some sort of rescue. Irrespective of the Doctor, and whatever conclusions the Church had come to regarding the Time Lord, Amy Pond- and her unborn daughter- were entirely blameless. No religion, no moral person, could condone what was being done to her. 

But the official response to her questioning had sparked an awful realization in Lorna. The Church knew full well what the Silence were up to at Demon's Run, even before agreeing to send troops to assist. In fact, that was why they had deployed reinforcements in the first place. Lorna had seen it, when she had been called up before her commanding officer and, shockingly, the Cardinals themselves: they were afraid. Whatever they knew, whatever they had seen, or been told, or experienced, it had been enough to instill in them a terrible fear of the Doctor. Bad enough that they would align with the Silence, a group that the Terran government and even the Church itself had in the past deemed a cult and a level six threat to the human empire. Bad enough that they would do whatever necessary, no matter how vile, to see the Doctor- a man still grudgingly recognized by UNISYC as an "ally of humanity,"- cut down. 

And there she was, along for the ride. Until the bitter end. 

In the end, it hadn't just been Lorna's desire to see the Doctor again that had kept her working at Demon's Run. No, she had stayed because, ultimately she knew that the Doctor would have expected her to stay, would have expected compassion. She stayed because Kovarian and the troops working with her considered anyone allied with the Doctor to be just as much an enemy as the Time Lord himself, and Lorna knew Amy was not. Lorna knew that Amy could use a friend on the inside. 

And now here she was, Amy Pond herself, sitting beside her. Worse still, the situation had turned in a bitterly ironic way; Lorna Bucket was now in a very similar situation, with the only possible way out being Amy herself. It was such a dark reversal that Lorna began contemplating the possibility of a wry God, albeit one with a mean sense of humor.

What should she tell Amy? It was clear that this version of the girl hadn't gone through any of the events at Demon's Run yet, should she tell her anything at all? Would doing so just make an enemy out of Amy? Would the companion ever forgive Lorna, if she knew?

'What do you know about these Collars, Amy?' Lorna prodded hers disdainfully, opting for a less immediately controversial topic. 'What can they do? Can they be tricked?'

'I tricked mine the last time,' Amy said slowly, reaching back into her memory. 'By stopping myself from hearing the commands Sander gave me. But it won't work this time. Apparently he's given these things some upgrades.'

'Could be second generation... Like transmat fields, things like that?' Lorna's fingers drummed relentlessly on her thighs as her mind wheeled, trying desperately to dredge up every piece and half remembered fragment of information she had on Command Collar technology; the problem was that she was by no means a specialist. The Gamma Forests had been far removed from the reaches of space beyond the grasp of the Shadow Proclamation, where the Collars had originated and were still used today. All she had were news vids she could barely remember and historical records of their use in past conflicts. Not exactly perfect knowledge.

'"Last time?"' Sally's brow furrowed, turning solely to face Amy. 

'It's not the first time I've been in this situation,' Amy sighed, shaking her head. 'Last time it was just Sander and Mara, so things are kind of... worse, this time. Not that I'm trying to frighten you, but be careful of Ren, okay? Don't... Don't make her mad.'

'But you got away,' Sally persisted. 'How did you do that?'

'The Doctor came for her, I'm sure,' Lorna answered for Amy. 'Any chance of that happening again?'

'I don't know,' Amy's answer was noncommittal, but she found herself shaking her head anyway. 'That machine Sander has, I don't really know what it does. He's not exactly keen to tell his captives about it. The only thing I can really tell you is that it does something to your timelines, whatever that means. I'm sure the Doctor will be able to explain it properly,' She added conscientiously, determined to keep the faith.

Sally nodded, entirely seriously at the sentiment, and Amy found herself liking the newcomer suddenly and intensely; something in the earnestness of her response, after days of her hope for rescue being made the object of fun, was completely endearing to Amy. It was somehow furtive, her secret little way of striking back at her captors. With trust established, the three of them began conversing in earnest.

Amy had no idea how long they talked, as their captors milled about beyond, but once she had begun, she found it hard to stop. Lorna and Sally had taken to her as a sort of guide to the strange situation they found themselves in, practically interrogating her about all aspects of life on Trismestigius, often with a distinct bent toward finding ways of escape. The discovery that Lorna was from a time period well ahead of Amy, Sally and Christina put a more serious bent on the conversation, as Amy wracked her brains for as much technical information as she had been able to glean, hoping the Gamma native's less-than-contemporaneous background would give her a unique insight into the situation. 

Of course, it seemed that Sander and his crew were solid predictive thinkers, and every plan or idea the three of them could produce had some fatal flaw due to the layers of protections and restraints their jailers had employed. In the end, Amy had been reduced to simply sharing her prior experiences with the crew in hopes of preparing them for the worst on offer in this strange place. On multiple occasions, one of the three attempted to include Christina in the interaction, but she staunchly refused, preferring instead to peer furtively out at the crew, watching and waiting for the first sign of weakness.

Really, Amy wondered what the arch brunette's game plan was, in the end; even if she somehow slipped Sander's grasp here, she would still be trapped on this moon until they hunted her down. If she managed to escape after they had arrived at... wherever they were going, she would still be stuck millennia out of her own time, on whatever alien world Sander had seen fit to invite them all to. Perhaps Christina thought that escape at all was preferable to captivity?

Still, even without her the discussion continued, traveling through as many things as Amy could think of; profiles of the crew, the base and Jericho, even reminders of home, just to keep things in perspective. At one point Sally even told a joke, and Amy's light chuckle had quickly turned into torrents of full-on laughter; it had been so long since she'd had anything to laugh about. When the noise attracted Sander's attention, Amy continued without a care, causing the tall man- much to their surprise- to laugh it off himself and walk away, shaking his head. Moments later, Ren appeared, but Amy didn't think the two events were connected, not really. 

'Alright girls,' The woman with the mismatched eyes called as she approached across the landing pad, flipping the hood of her jacket back over her neck. 'Time to pack you all onto the ship. It's time to go.'

'Are you going to tell us where, pray?' Christina said archly, hoisting herself off of the crate she had been sitting on and landing gracefully on the tips of her toes. She looked Ren full in the eye, something that none of the other girls was prepared to do; Amy had quickly impressed on them the importance of keeping on Ren's good side. 

The Half stared back at Christina, grinned, then laughed, 'No. Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you, Chrissie baby.'

The dark haired woman bristled at the name; over the years she had been called plenty of things, most of them synonyms for "thief," but the name that had become most deeply ingrained on her psyche was simply Lady Christina. In her heart she was still a noble, and her teeth ground together as her eyes flashed angrily at the simple affront of familiarity. Amy, Lorna and Sally watched from the sidelines, and Amy had to admit a certain respect for the way Christina pulled her anger off; she herself had always found it quite hard to feel comfortable enough to express herself properly in the clothes that had been provided for her, but Christina seemed to fill out the deep red, cleavage-baring shirt and dark skirt she had been given with remarkable aplomb. Then again, the Lady de Souza oozed confidence in a way that made Amy more or less certain she could make a potato sack seem noble. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 19



Not that Ren seemed at all impressed; if anything, her grin only widened as she approached Christina, chuckling to herself, 'Oh, that look, Chrissie? I like that look. Who knows what I'll do to you if you keep wearing that look...' With that, Ren's arm snapped out, fingers winding through Christina's hair as the brunette was practically dragged forward so Ren could force her tongue down her throat. Christina made an inarticulate sound of surprise and indignation as Ren pushed herself viciously forward against her sharp struggles to pull away, kissing the noblewoman so deeply she was surely hitting her tonsils by now. When she finally pulled away, it was with a massive gasp for air.

'Ah, see?!' Ren grinned goofily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Best you put on a smile instead, or I just won't keep my hands off of you, Chris-chan. Speaking of smiles, I've brought you girls a little something to keep our road trip interesting for you. 'Cause... you can't really play eye-spy in space, it gets boring pretty quick.'

Ren fished around in the deep pockets of her hoody for a moment, withdrawing a set of objects that she dangled from her fingers. Immediately, Amy realized that all four of her group were wearing skirts, and her heart dropped into her stomach. 

'Alright ladies,' Ren showed altogether too many teeth, in a smile that reminded Amy of her younger sister, 'Command: panties down.'

Ren had them stand in a line before her, and as each of them obeyed helplessly, sliding their underwear down to their knees, relieved that this time at least their skirts were long enough to keep them adequately covered, Amy began to get a shape of the kind of game Ren wanted to play. Dangling from her fingers were a set of four small, egg-like objects that, to everyone present were clearly vibrators. Worse still, Ren insisted on inserting them herself. 

Down the line she went, lifting the front of each captive's skirt in turn and pressing the little, streamlined egg up into them with two fingers. She was clearly spending more time there than she strictly needed to, and at around the time Amy- who was third in line- was stifling a moan with Ren two knuckles deep inside of her and rubbing her clit with the third, she noticed that there was a distinct color coding going on.

Perhaps it was just a game Ren was playing with herself to keep entertained, but each toy was certainly a different color that seemed to match its target; Christina's had been a deep black like her hair, a trait that had continued into Sally's light brown and Amy's orange toys. Lorna's had been a deep and, Ren had assured her, forest green. In response, Lorna had simply murmured a short sentence in her native language, and Amy had gleaned enough from their chat to know it was probably a prayer. She made a mental note to interrogate Lorna about her alien homeworld when next she got a chance, finding herself utterly fascinated by the idea of humans growing up on new worlds with new cultures... only this time without the kidnapping angle that had dictated her interactions with the last such group of specimens. 

'Only two rules here, girls,' Ren said finally, her work complete, as she went back along the line, sliding her plaything's panties back up their hips to fit snugly over the devices. 'One, Command: don't mention your new toys to anyone else. And two, well... you'll figure out exactly how much power those little guys have soon enough. Try not to squirm, and if you get too frustrated you could always try begging to old Ren for a bit of relief... If you're brave enough.'

Suddenly, she had four remote controls in her hand, and she thumbed the switches from off to on, laughing a little as all four girls doubled over immediately, the little eggs buzzing away incessantly inside them. Sally was the first to moan, but she wasn't the last. Only Christina seemed able to hold out from audibly showing how she was being affected, though Lorna did manage to suppress her moans eventually through incessant, low volume prayer. That only seemed to amuse Ren.

'We'll see how long that lasts,' She said, nodding sagely. 'We'll see.'

And with that, Sander came to collect them all and herd them up the ramp and into the deep crimson bulk of the ship. The crew talked amongst themselves, and Amy found herself envying their freedom; she longed to be able to do the same with Lorna and Sally. The three of them shared furtive, strangled glances as often as they could, as the little eggs buzzed away inside them. Even as Christina strode confidently into the ship, looking unperturbed, Amy registered a slight wobble in her walk, taking it to mean that in reality, her panties were probably just as soaked as Amy's own. 

'Okay,' Ren nodded, taking in the interior of the ship. 'Not bad, Sander. I'll give you this one.'

For Amy it had only been a few months, and she remembered clearly Sander's old ship, the tiny little shuttle that had taken the three of them to Theros and back. That ship had been designed merely for transport, not comfort; it had kept in the air and gotten them offworld, but that was the extent of what it did for them. 

By contrast, though from the outside the new cruiser had the same sparse, flat metal angles of his previous ship, the interior actually reflected Sander's apparently immense material wealth. Amy stepped onto a thick, soft carpet, seemingly suffused with its own internal glow. Demonstratively, Sander touched a segment on the wall nearest the door, making it burst into illuminated life, expanding out from the center into a scrolling series of menus and options. Seconds later, Sander was making the carpet shift through a series of different patterns, the colors drifting through a sea of momentary static into new shapes; a succession of artifacts from cultures both known and unknown to Amy. Beside her, Tsugi made an impressed noise.

'Holographic carpet fibers,' He said, head tilting to one side. 'That is... needlessly expensive. Awesome.'

'Hey, how come when it was just us we went for years with that crappy little shuttle and suddenly now we've got this cool thing?' Mara asked, prodding Sander with her elbow. 'I can't even gloat that I got to ride in this before anyone else, now.'

'I bought you a moon, dear,' Sander said. 'How many women can say that about their boyfriends?'

'You bought me a hollow moon,' She pouted, the expression shifting into a grin as she draped her arms around him. 'And then you filled it with junk. How typically male.'

The group was ushered through the airlock, and the more Amy thought about it, the stranger it became that the airlock was carpeted; someone was clearly showing off a little. The deck beyond was fashioned in much the same manner; glowing carpet bristling with future technology, metal shod walls of softly polished silver gently curving up into a ceiling lined with track lights. Amy focused on each element in turn, one after the other, trying to force her attention away from her pussy and the slickness on her underwear. 

When she looked over, she saw that Sally had gone quite red, chewing absently on her bottom lip with her eyes locked in a thousand yard stare. It occurred to her then that, of all the women Sander had torn from the timeline, of all the women here on Trismestigius, Sally was the one most like her. The only one with a contemporaneous background of a similar social class. Amy couldn't relate to the globe-trotting, action packed life of crime that Christina had lived, but Sally... Sally had lived the closest to what Amy could consider a "normal" life. She felt she and the newcomer came from the same place.

But... That wasn't really right, was it? Sally was the normal one, not her. Amy's whole life had been informed, sculpted by the Doctor, going back into her childhood. In her lifetime she had seen alien skies, events before her birth and after her death, met people from dozens of races and species and even travelled with a man who may well turn out to be the most important one in, well, ever. But what about Sally? 

They hadn't gotten into how she knew the Doctor, nor Lorna either, when she thought about it, but Sander had been fairly clear on one point; they weren't involved enough to properly deserve a stay on Trismestigius. If it hadn't been for a Marduk-related glitch in the mechanism, neither of them would ever have appeared here. So Amy had to wonder; would she be the weird one to Sally? 

There were the things she thought about, as she was ushered into the "neck" of the ship; the wide passage between the bulk of the living quarters and the cockpit. But with a little time, her train of thought was always derailed, as she was dragged back into her body; the wetness between her legs and her growing lust became a kind of organic background noise, making her thighs tighten and her entire body groan in protest. She knew she was blushing. When she looked around, she knew she wasn't alone; by now even Christina had gone red. 

With the cockpit at one end, the neck of the ship was lined at both ends with leather seats, replete with crash harnesses. While Sander and Mara took the pair of pilot's seats, the rest of the group arrayed themselves along the banks of harnesses, strapping into the- surprisingly user friendly- devices; Tsugi and Ren sitting at either side of the captives, the latter's grin sharp and pointed, daring them to even try to speak out. Sally tried not to stare openly at Lysithea and Dulcimer, who sat opposite. She regarded the pair of aliens with a mix of interest and suspicion. Dulcimer waved back, somehow contriving to look serene even without a face.

'Alright folks, are we ready?' Sander grinned over his shoulder, fingers working at the control banks even as he looked away. 'Jericho, what about you? How're we doing?'

'I am prepared, Sander,' The A.I's voice issued from a pair of speakers set low on the console. 'All diagnostics are showing acceptable variances, you are cleared to exit atmosphere. I will maintain our home while you are gone.'

'Sorry we can't take you with us,' Sander said. 'But you're kind of important here, my friend. Especially the way things are now.'

'I know,' Jerry said. 'I'm here to assist.'

The rest of the conversation became hushed and filled with what was, to Amy, incomprehensible techno babble. She cast her eyes over her newfound allies, saw Christina grinding her teeth with a frustrated scowl, eyes burning, a challenging glare directed at Ren. It went unnoticed by the rest of the group, especially Lorna and Sally, who fidgeted constantly in their harnesses, thighs tight under the fabric of their skirts. 

And then the ship began to take off. 

A great, shuddering vibration went through the outer hull of the ship as numerous ports along the sides began spewing out great gouts of blue tinged flame, licking at the landing pad as the Gespenst made its first tentative motions skyward. Even through the stabilizers and gravity modules embedded throughout the length and breadth of the craft, the stresses of accelerating the shining red bulk of the ship to escape velocity could not be suppressed entirely; Amy could feel it, through every point of contact she had with the cool, silver-tinted surfaces. And that was where she began experiencing problems. 

Beside her, Sally moaned, the sound mercifully covered by the rush of the engines propelling them upward. Amy could understand why; the seat beneath her juddered and vibrated, the force of it shaking up her hips in a highly specific way that interacted with the vibrating egg lodged inside her. Had Ren known that this would happen? 

It seemed to go on for far too long, her bottom and thighs shaking, the steel edged frame of the harness pressed against her breasts producing the same effect there. When it was over, Amy had to almost stop herself from panting. Her underwear clung to her crotch, soaked through. From the looks on Lorna and Sally's faces, they couldn't have been far off, either. 

A realization hit Amy, as the ship eased back into silence and stillness, and she craned her neck to look into the cockpit; specifically, to see the large, wraparound screen that functioned as the windscreen for the ship. The deep blackness of space stretched out before the craft, dotted with stars. A smaller, inset window showed a view of Trismestigius retreating slowly into the distance, intricate cloud formations occluding vast expanses of ocean and, beyond the continent that Amy had seen, immense mountain ranges across the seas. 

No matter how many times she saw that view, of infinity dominating the sky around her, Amy could never get used to it. She prodded Sally, pointed her to it, watched the previously earthbound girl light up with the sheer, heady joy of discovery; even Christina seemed fascinated, at least for a moment. 

It took Amy back to her first time offworld, spirited away in the middle of the night, the day before her wedding. The Doctor had been there, of course, and she felt a familiar pang of isolation and loneliness run through her. Even with her new allies, had anything really improved?

With mechanical precision, the harnesses retracted, sliding back against the seat and freeing the girls to resettle themselves, attempt to surreptitiously guide their vibrators away from the more sensitive spots inside of them. Ren chuckled softly to herself, laying her hand on Amy's shoulder as she lifted herself out of her seat, strutting down into the body of the ship. 

'Can you handle things from here, Hackett?' Mara asked, from beside him. 'I'm kinda hungry.'

Sander nodded, too absorbed in ensuring the ship wouldn't suddenly explode to answer verbally. As Mara wandered off, the four in the Command Collars tentatively stood to follow her. Sander raised a hand from his seat, the other continuing to work the controls.

'No, you girls stay put,' He said, gesturing them back to their seats. 'Somebody has to keep an eye on you, it might as well be me.'

'Oh, I don't know...' Mara grinned. 'I could probably take one or two with me for... personal use.'

'Mara...' 

'Alright, alright,' She giggled, stepping lightly down the corridor to catch up with her sisters. The four women that remained exchanged uncomfortable looks as Sander seemed content to remain in silence for an extended period, absorbed in his work as the girls sat in silence, unwilling to speak up and risk attracting his attention in a decidedly negative way.

Eventually, the ship's course laid in and the autopilot taking much of the burden from him, Sander unbuckled himself from his seat and spun it around, smiling at the girls seated in the mostly empty neck of the ship, 'Now, for many of you, this will be your first field trip with ol' Sander, children. And Amy, it's been a while, so I think we need to go over some ground rules.'

'I think you should tell us where you're taking us,' Amy said, in a deadpan, challenging tone. Behind her, Sally nodded vaguely, more impressed with Amy's ability to stand up to someone who was by all accounts insane and dangerous. She supposed it must come with familiarity, but had yet to decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

'Well, not to give any spoilers, but it's not a place you girls will want to be going to alone,' Sander said. 'Which leads me to my first point: stick around. Wandering away from the tour would be bad, ladies.'

'I see,' Christina said, crisp syllables gilding the air. 'So you won't tell us where we're going, or for what purpose, but running from our kidnappers would somehow be worse than staying with them?'

'That's what I'm saying, yes,' Sander said, frowning. He doubted he would ever fully understand his mind's pronounced reaction to Christina; in Amy, all the snarking and fighting seemed to pose a challenge that he knew he could best. In Christina, those same actions made him want to break the fight out of her. He felt his fingers flex; it must have something to do with the utter, absurd confidence the noblewoman had, even while wearing a collar. It made him want to beat it out of her.

'Also important to note: where we're going, nobody cares that you've been kidnapped,' He continued. 'Not a one. Because there's not a law for that there.'

'Oh, come now! Really?' Christina snapped. 'You expect us to believe that? I refuse to believe that the future is so-'

'Christina, one more outburst like that, and I will be forced to shut you up,' Sander said smoothly, keeping his voice very deliberately even. 

'I think you're lying,' She continued, eyes locked in a challenging glare with his. Sander smiled.

'Christina, get up,' Sander's fingers tapped an irritated rhythm on the armrest of his chair. When the noblewoman didn't move, he continued, 'Get up, Christina, or I'll take away your choice. Come here.'

Hesitantly, but with an indignant scowl, Christina got to her feet, lifting herself gracefully out of her seat and padding a few steps toward the target of her ire. Her expression only grew darker as he raised a hand, stopping her in place. He gestured to the floor.

She opened her mouth to argue, but seemed to remember the collar around her neck at the last moment. Glaring at Sander as though she would kill him if she could, she knelt, teeth grinding together as she put herself on all fours, full ass swaying as she crawled towards him, wanting nothing more than to tears out his throat with her teeth.

Especially when his hands reached for his fly as she approached, pulling his flaccid length into the open air.

'Good girl,' He smirked, filled with obscene confidence. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tenting in front of him. 'I think you know what to do, Milady.'

Christina glared up at him, eyes spitting fire even from her knees as she searched for the words she needed to voice her displeasure, 'Fuck you.' She settled on, inarticulately.

Hoping to halt this taunting conversation before it went any further, she leaned in and took the head of Sander's cock between her lips. Her cheeks reddened, whole face flushing hot with humiliation, but she continued, tonguing the underside as effectively as she knew how. The time for escape would come, she knew, but in the meantime it ultimately behooved her to play this bastard's game, and more importantly, to get it over with as quickly as possible. 

'No, wait,' Sander shook his head, pulling Christina off of him by the hair. He chuckled at the popping sound her lips made as they finally left him, 'Whoa, didn't know you were that eager, Milady. Hop on under the console, I've got to keep checking the readings.'

She couldn't look at him as she crawled around the side of his chair, for fear of him seeing the pain in her eyes. Her pride, bruised and hurt beyond any experience she had had in the past, was a constant weight in her chest, stung and needled by every crawling movement forward. The lip of the console was too low for her to fit comfortably underneath it, a fact Sander must have been keenly aware of; she needed to spread her legs wide and bow her head simply to make her tall frame compact enough to properly fit beneath it. 

Sander pulled at a lever at the bottom of his seat, lowering the entire rig a little to more comfortably slot himself between Christina's legs, his bare feet falling into place under her skirt, dangerously close to the buzzing little device still lubricating her most private area. Unwilling to hear him give her another order, Christina opted to swallow her pride, and ultimately swallow her captor. 

'That's right, good girl,' He murmured to her, and she began to hear him working the ship's controls again, perhaps a tad slower than before as he enjoyed the sensations of her lips sliding up and down his shaft. Once Christina had committed herself to the idea of simply getting on with the task before her, no matter how unpleasant, she worked her hardest, employing all the little tricks at her disposal to finish this quickly. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 19



However, as she worked she came to a decision in her head; if Sander saw fit to give her a mouthful now, she would certainly be giving him one when she was done.

Except Sander wasn't content to just let her be, of course not. As she clenched her fists beneath the console and ran her tongue up the length of his cock, he talked to her. Taunted her really, though his words were softly spoken and positive in content, he knew the effect they would have on her. She could sense it, in the just barely audible amusement in his voice.

He was critiquing her as she sucked him, content to let her do all the work while he ensured the ship remained safe. He never took the time to so much as look at her, at the bobbing, dark haired head visible in his lap, but his words were just for her. In fact, Christina doubted the other three captives behind him could even hear him. But she could. Her face flushed redder with every sentence, bit of praise or request. 

'Yeah, that's good... Do that thing with your tongue again, where you try to wrap it around my-... Ooh, yes, like that!' She felt his muscles tighten as she obeyed, the threat of that damnable Collar so present in her mind. In many ways she feared the device that kept her imprisoned here far more than anything her captors could do to her; the way it almost seemed to strip her from her body was one of the most unsettling sensations she had ever experienced. 

Away from them all, still sitting in the bank of seats lining the neck of the Gespenst, Amy, Sally and Lorna watched on uncomfortably. If it wasn't bad enough that they were unwilling spectators to the degradation of one of their own- if an aloof and slightly intolerable one of their own- the vibrators Ren had kindly forced them to wear seemed to understand the situation a little too well. Whether they had actually sped up, or simply settled permanently against particularly sensitive spots in each of them, the pleasure they all felt was terrifyingly real. 

At least, for Sally and Lorna it was. Amy had practically come to expect it, but for the newcomers the sheer control Sander's crew had over their bodies was a frightening experience. All three of them squirmed in their seats, Amy taking it the best, merely sitting in her seat with her gaze in her lap, trying her best not to let the seeping sensations from overtaking her. Ren's parting words had been all too accurate; however much heat the toys could force into their nerves, the one thing they would not do was allow them to cum. Amy took a moment to wonder whether hers had sensors in it to detect when she was getting close, and how it was programmed. However it worked, it was awfully, frustratingly accurate.

She did, however, notice how outwardly cooperative Christina was being. Aside from a few poisonous words and, from what Amy had been able to see, a glare that could kill, the noblewoman hadn't resisted enough to give Sander reason to even use her Collar, let alone coerce her in any way. But then again, hadn't the same thing happened to her? Didn't it also lie in Sally and Lorna's future?

Because it was a different scenario, once you realized that this captivity wasn't going to end in the foreseeable future. That it was going to go on, with no end in sight, until rescue came for them. It was alright to resist and fight, to swear and scream and raise bloody hell when Sander had used her the first few times, when she had seen rescue constantly on the horizon and interpreted every sudden noise as the Doctor and Rory coming around the corner, but as time went on Amy had begun to see things differently. 

The facts were, she was ultimately powerless here, and even if she did attempt some form of resistance, Sander and anyone aligned with him could force her to be obedient. There was nothing she could do and, as satisfying as even token resistance was, it generally wasn't helpful in the long run. Escape might not be coming for a while, and it wasn't attainable without outside help; fighting may be good for the soul, but cooperating was what was best for the body and the mind. Just get it over with, don't let them draw it out any longer than it has to be, and watch them lower their guard. Watch, as those little freedoms came wandering back that she could use to keep her sanity.

It was happening to Christina, it had happened to Amy, and it was almost certainly going to happen to Sally and Lorna. Besides, Amy had already found her solid core of belief in her own eventual rescue, she was sure the others had it in them too. The Command Collar may be her constant guardian, but Amy was committed to giving them all as little reason to use it as possible. 

And if she really looked inside herself... If she was truly forced to be honest... Amy could see that the times where the Collar hadn't been used, when she had been truly in her own flesh but still forced to perform, held down by real flesh and blood hands and fucked...

Those were the times she came the hardest.

Amy wiped away the rebellious little thought, flushed with guilt at the slightest possibility that that meant something beyond Sander's suspiciously complete knowledge of her body. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't. 

Oh god, if only he hadn't been so wet when she had thought that...

Sander leaned back in his seat, taking a moment to merely observe the dark haired woman below. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the contemptuous glare she was giving him, visible only for a second before her mouth descended down his shaft, breaking eye contact with him. Not for the first time, he pondered his bizarrely powerful reaction to her resistance; there was just something about this particular woman that rubbed him the wrong way. Even if she was proving herself quite adept at rubbing certain parts of the anatomy in entirely the right way.

Wordlessly, he leaned in and extended a hand beneath the console, moving at such a languid pace that Christina could not possibly have ignored it. He could almost feel her eyes attempt to follow his fingers as they made their way toward her, eventually settling on her shoulder, the tips hooking in under the collar of her shirt. She made a small noise close to a whimper.

Placing the index finger of his free hand to her forehead, Sander slowly directed Christina to lift her head, until she could comfortably look him in the eye, while at the same time keeping the tip of his cock in her mouth, pressed between soft red lips. He held her gaze, almost dispassionately, as his other hand lowered, dragging her shirt down over her cleavage inch by inch. With every inch of exposed flesh, Christina's expression ratcheted up in intensity, contempt burning in her eyes. Sander only smiled.

'Well, we can all certainly see that you've got some experience working that tongue of yours, Lady Christina,' His voice was level and smooth, observational rather than outright taunting. He was simply stating facts, and it made her blush deeply, 'I've got no doubt that you've been practicing, which makes me wonder what you nobles really get up to behind closed doors. Or maybe it's a thief thing! Maybe you've had to get yourself out of trouble in the past...'

And for a moment, he simply allowed her to glare at him, completely happy to soak up her hatred as though it were fuel for what was to come. She breathed in long, explosively exhaled breaths, the warm air blowing around his shaft as her deadpan, angry glare skewered him. He fought back a grin.

'You know, girls,' He called back to the other captives, keeping his gaze locked on Christina. 'You might learn a thing or two from this one. She's very... skilled. Knows how to work the teeth just right, and not many girls know how to do that. Tongue too, although that skill's a little easier to come by,' Now he smiled, the expression teetering on the edge of a smirk. 'Maybe I should have her teach a class, or something...'

With idle curiosity, the hand holding her shirt down snapped the fabric tight against the underside of her breasts, leaving them exposed to his sight as he spun the chair around, leading her out in an awkward, kneeling shuffle. The additional space was a blessing to Christina, but at the same time it involved giving three near perfect strangers an eyeful of her naked chest. She kept her eyes locked on Sander's, unwilling to give the others any more reason to stare.

Playfully, Sander palmed her tits, bouncing the two handfuls obscenely, grinning all the while, 'Now, these on the other hand... I can think of a few uses for these. She's quite bountiful, girls. Amy, you know better than most!' He gave the redhead a theatrical wink, the first time he had broken eye contact with Christina. It made them both blush.

'In fact...' Sander began speculatively, allowing his cock to drop from between Christina's lips, trailing a wet line down her chin as his now free hand tangled in her hair and forced her to rise on her knees, placing his length directly between her breasts. 'I can think of something for you to do with them now.'

'Come on...' She stopped short of actually shaking her head, but Christina's voice shook as she spoke, far softer and more vulnerable than it had been in days past. 

'Come on, make it happen,' His voice was so gentle, not even a hint of a command was there, but Christina knew she could not disobey. 'Make me cum, slave.'

The final word stung, needled at her mind in such a calculated way; she had no doubt he had thought it through. Someone like Mara used that word interchangeably with "girl," when talking to her, but right now, even through his nonchalant exterior Sander was choosing his words carefully. She could see the gears working in his head, selecting each word or action, examining them with surgical care. 

He knew what he was doing, and with one final grunt of sheer enraged displeasure, Christina's hands cupped her breasts at either side, curving them as gently as possible around the engorged rod that lay between them. Her cheeks burned with shame; everything else she could have borne with some form of dignity, but this was too much. This was so far beyond the bounds of decorum, so far outside of her acceptable limits... to be treated like some common whore...

She could feel the eyes of the other girls at her back as she performed her task, her own eyes first prickling, then welling with indignant, involuntary tears. No matter where she looked, there was no escape; forward left her looking at Sander, down only trapped her with the reality of what she was doing, and far out to either side made the concerned, pity- filled stares of the others visible. A de Souza woman needed no pity, even now.

Christina settled for locking her eyes to Sander's, a less than ideal choice given her currently large, watery eyes, but she needed to hold something back from him. She couldn't let him win; looking down only made it seem like she was concentrating on her task, giving it undue attention. She couldn't have that.

The snug, curving cleavage she had created ran up and down the length of his shaft, always filled with the heat of his erection, pressing into the center of her chest like a brand. A few such trips were all it had taken to turn that soft valley into a sodden mess, tracked and glistening with a mix of her own saliva and his precum. She felt truly, utterly used, and for the first time since her captivity here had begun, to her eternal disgust, she made a girlish whimpering sound in the back of her throat, a noise of total helplessness. One by one, the tears began to track wet lines down her face. 

The worst part was Sander's obscene grin, filled with simple enjoyment as she worked. The fact that he was benefiting, drawing pleasure from her embarrassment stuck in her craw, bruising her already pretty dented pride. She could tell her cheeks were red enough to be visible, and she cursed herself for being so obviously weak around him.

Sander never touched her, never used any kind of physical inducement to get her to act; she could tell he liked it when she did it herself. Verbal encouragement, however, was apparently on the cards, judging from his occasional cooing praise, dripping with condescension. Christina felt her fingers press into the skin at the sides of her chest, reflecting her anger. She so desperately wanted to lash out at the man above her.

But she couldn't, could never. She had seen his eyes, filled with anger. She knew what he could do, if he was pushed. He was already dancing beyond the edge of sanity, that was proven by her mere presence here, and Christina got the feeling that this was barely the start. Who knows what would happen to her if she deliberately angered him?

So when he gave her a simple order, shifting with vague discomfort as her bust rose and fell, she bristled and growled, but obeyed:

'Why not grease the wheels a bit, Milady?' He said, brushing an errant strand of hair from her forehead in an awful, familiar gesture that made her flinch away. 'Spit on it.'

In response to this, Christina decided that it would be easier to just get this over with. She could complain and glare at him, perhaps even swear in a manner most inappropriate for a lady of her stature, but in the end all she would accomplish would be delaying the completion of the act she was complaining about. When he gave her his ugly little command, she tried to obey in such a way as to dissuade him from the idea that she was at all embarrassed about doing so. Merely a little drip, down into the valley of her breasts, easing the progress of Sander's shaft between them.

The silence between the other three girls had become increasingly awkward, as they sat as unwilling witnesses to Sander's pleasure. The fact that each of them was contending with the coercive sensations being foisted upon them by the vibrators working within them only made it worse. Lorna opted to bow her head, lips moving in silent prayer even as her legs squeezed together, sculpted muscles tense. Sally watched on in a kind of horrified fascination, and Amy settled for simply taking in her surroundings as best she could, noting down any peculiar features of this new ship. 

She had started counting the exposed rivets connecting the head section to the neck when Sander... finished up. Christina's whimpering cry of surprise and repulsion threw her back to reality, her head turning automatically in time to see the noblewoman's face and chest being sprayed with Sander's seed. Above her, Sander himself simply looked down his nose at her with cool disinterest, completely wrapped up in his own pleasure over the effect it was having on her. 

The girls watched, then, in the knowledge that such observation would undoubtedly make this much harder on Christina, but they were unable to pull themselves away. Sander sat, sinking a little lower in his seat, allowing silence to permeate the moment as Christina knelt with a kind of indignant stillness. In that time, Sander's cum dripped down the curve of her bust, a fact she seemed completely oblivious to, her gaze focused into a beam of pure, compressed hatred directed solely at the man in front of her. When Sander withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it absently in her direction, her gaze only intensified. 

'Clean yourself up, He said in low, vague tones, as he left his chair to amble down the neck of the ship, away to something presumably more interesting. Christina spun around, face burning red under the dripping mess deposited there, and opened her mouth in a barely articulate scream of rage.

'Bastard!' She shrieked, fingers curling into tightly laced fists. 

'Yup!' Sander called over his shoulder, ignoring Amy, Lorna and Sally as he turned the corner and left their view. They could hear him humming tunelessly, just out of sight. 

Amy kept her silence, averting her eyes uncomfortably as Christina began wiping herself down, grumbling under her breath the entire time. She quickly regained her modesty, pulling her top back up around her chest, and Amy got the feeling that if she so much as stared for a single moment, she would be on the receiving end of a mouthful from the brunette woman. Beside her, Sally regarded Christina with sympathetic eyes, a gesture apparently not returned by the scowling, swearing noble. 

'I am going to kill that man,' She said, crisp English syllable attacking the air with gusto. 'Normally that's not my style, but for him... I'll make an exception.'

'I...' Amy found herself speaking without fully recognizing the thought that had formed in her mind. Still, it demanded saying, even though she couldn't place whether or not it was true, 'I don't think the Doctor would allow that.' She said slowly.

'To hell with the fucking Doctor!' Christina snapped, eyes glittering coldly. 

'Yeah, that's pretty much Sander's position,' A different voice flitted around the corner, its owner following close on its heels. For a moment she stood, framed in the oblong arch that signaled the beginning of the neck, before her boots tapped along the walkway, closer and closer. Amy and Christina stiffened at her mere presence, and Sally absorbed enough of that reaction to sink back into her seat as Ren came to a stop in front of her. 

'Hi girls,' Her mismatched eyes were filled with wry amusement, the kind she seemed to get whenever she had all the power in a given situation. 'Look at you four, sitting all patiently! I might start thinking you were waiting for me! Christina especially, nice and enticing. On her knees.'

Christina made a sound close to a growl low in her throat, but even angered as she was she knew better than to risk an outright confrontation with the Half. Still, she never looked away, glaring at Ren even as the older woman made maddened, mischievous eyes at her. It seemed to be a kind of staring contest, and it went on for several seconds, tension building in the air before Ren finally gave up with a chuckle.

'Anyway, I'm just here to check on my little project,' She said, shaking her head. 'Let me take a look...'

With a wink, her hand slid under Sally's skirt, the fabric crumpling as she went higher, up and over the hem of her panties, following the wire leading to the vibrating egg lodged in her-by now dripping- pussy. Her fingers lingered there, as Sally squirmed and gasped, for a moment, before withdrawing. The tips of her fingers glistened in the overhead lights. She grinned.

'Oh yeah. You're done cooking, Miss Sparrow,' Ren growled. 'Up you get, girls. You and I, we're going to have an experience together...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 20



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi fellows, new chapter and all. Very many thanks to my editing team, Allyourbase and LogicalDreamer for their input on this chapter, in addition to their support and encouragement of my writing. Also, if you like what you see, I'd appreciate any comments or votes you feel like I deserve. I thrive on your feedback, guys!

Enjoy!

*************

Kanaria was very close by. That was what mattered most.

Her shoulder rubbed against his as the ship slid into a curve, the artificial inertia causing the wall they were leaning against to tilt slightly. In some ways, Tsugi disliked the feeling of being this close to the youngest Syfte sister; even ignoring the fact that he was secretly terrified of Mara and Ren, Kana herself always made him so goofy. In the end, all he could count on was his wits, and when this girl was next to him he couldn't even depend on those.

Of course, those parts of him were rapidly eclipsed by the warm dumbfounded feeling she did elicit in him...

Sander had apparently wasted no expense in procuring his new ship, and Tsugi was happy that he didn't have to travel in that tiny shuttle that had docked with the Oviroa the first time they had met. For one, the Gespenst had room enough for each of the crew to take a cabin for themselves, if they wanted. Currently, he was sat on the flat, compact bed in the room Kana had claimed, legs dangling over the side in a row with hers, tapping away at a thin, light-filled tablet screen, ostensibly still working. Though Kanaria was doing the same, the objective of the exercise wasn't really work, not with the base and the Engine rapidly retreating through the blackness of space behind them. 

No, they were absorbed in this paltry busywork to avoid talking to one another. 

He tried not to shiver as she absently pressed herself closer to him, shifting position just to get comfortable. But her every touch sent a chill down his spine. If he looked down, he could see her thigh, warm and soft against his through the fabric of her dress. They were working to avoid the hard questions, like what that kiss had meant. In the silence, they could run from the hard answers.

Like, say... Had she let him kiss her as a part of some delayed reaction to being carved up by a madman? Had she simply been glad to be alive, and latching onto the nearest life-affirming thing she could get to? Or had he been so afraid of losing one of his friends that he had thrown himself at her out of some misplaced sense of affection and fear? Yes, Tsugi wasn't above questioning his own motives here, either. Kanaria certainly wouldn't be. 

He got the sense that both of them distrusted their feelings on this, but for different reasons. From what he could remember of the stories Kana used to tell, her hesitance must be one of simple inexperience, mixed with the fact that to someone who didn't know his entire story, Tsugi could seem to be quite untrustworthy. 

But his was more unsettlingly cold and analytical. He was obviously attracted to Kanaria, at least physically. That much was easy to deduce. But was he ready for that? Was she? How deep did his feelings go, or was it just skin deep? 

What was she, to him?

And besides, was there even a point to starting anything with her, given the game they were all playing? There was no guarantee that the Doctor wouldn't find them tomorrow, or even a second from now. It was entirely possible that all of this would come crashing down around their ears, all because Amy was here. Like it or not, they had signed up for a war that Sander was conducting, and there was no backing out now. Who knew what the future would bring?

They only had to slip up once...

'Tsugi...' For a moment, it seemed like she was going to say it ahead of him, but she stopped, voice uncertain. He could see her jaw working as she bit the inside of her lip, something she tended to do while she worked. How had he even noticed that was a trend with her?

For a moment she stared up at him, eyes clouded and brows furrowed intently, before she seemed to place the thought to one side, and stood. She padded her way across the room, sliding the door closed and sealing it in place with the tiny metal latch that was used in power outages to secure free floating objects. She turned, giving him a pointed look. Tsugi decided that this was what it would look like if a teddy bear came to a decision.

'We need to talk,' She said, her voice soft and metal edged. He could still see it in her eyes, that occasional glimmer of surprise; she still hadn't gotten used to the sound of her new, artificial voice. 

And just like that, the guilt hit him all at once, sliding through him like a greasy tide. He hadn't been able to protect her. For all his intellect and sarcasm, when push came to shove Tsugi Nakatsukasa hadn't been able to do anything.

'Yes, we do,' He sighed, closing his eyes and bringing his knees up to his chest. 

'I think that... we've both been avoiding this conversation,' She began slowly, rejoining him by the bed but pointedly not sitting down. 'And I'll admit, it's been nice, pretending we had it squared away. But we don't. And it's not fair to either of us to keep pretending.'

Ugh, emotional honesty... Something Tsugi was uncomfortable with. Not that he'd been exposed to much of it; life on the Oviroa hadn't exactly been conducive to long running relationships. Perhaps that was the reason. 

'Alright,' He said, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he felt. He supposed being this nervous had to be some kind of positive, at least, 'Let's talk.'

But they didn't, not for a while at least. Tsugi had never had to lead in a conversation like this, and Kanaria seemed unwilling to. Silence was the order of the day, as Tsugi pretended to be absorbed in the workings of his palm screen, chancing only the occasional glance at the woman beside him. She had something working in her mind, he could see it in her eyes. She had always been an open book around him, like she was unaccustomed to the idea of hiding herself.

'I like you, Tsugi,' She said finally, the words expelled from her like a dam bursting. 'And I think you feel the same, given how you... when we...' She trailed off, leaving Tsugi to pick up the slack.

'When I kissed you. Yeah. I remember,' He said, finally looking her in the eye. Time to act like an adult, although he feared he had paused slightly too long, giving Kana a vaguely crestfallen look, 'And yeah, I... I agree with you.'

Again a moment of silence, this one substantially lighter than the one previous. This time she smiled, as Tsugi turned his eyes to the ceiling. Frankly, he felt a little disgusted with himself; this level of nervousness was simply unbecoming, especially given that Kanaria was the source. He had never met a person more unassuming and unthreatening than her.

'So... What do we do about it?' He added, his fingers seeking out her hand, to see if she was abiding. Smile only growing, she allowed him to slip his hand over hers.

'Well...' Big blue eyes turned to him, a smile that could tentatively be called mischievous cresting her features. For a moment, she looked like a PG rated version of Mara, 'We could try it again. The kissing thing. If you want to.'

Her voice still carried the same metallic edge that it would have for the rest of her life now, as though she was speaking to him from inside a tin can, but there was an indefatigable warmth there, the beating heart of Kanaria that shone through no matter how artificial her throat had become. Tsugi reacted to it almost instantly. There really was no choice.

He had never thought of himself as a good kisser; he was always self conscious about being that close to another person, and he could never get his tongue to do quite what he wanted, but Kanaria seemed to like it. The shrill, girlish little sound she made as he first touched her contained more than a little surprise, but at least it was pleasant surprise. And she had leaned into him, placed one hand on his chest, just below his shoulder. Her breathing sped up, he could feel it on his skin. Wow...

'I-I don't...' She began, her voice tiny as they broke away. Pale skin like hers went red with very little prompting, and the closeness of their contact had turned Kanaria a very fetching shade. Her eyes darted around nervously, before she reigned herself in and brought her gaze back to his, 'I don't even know what gender you are...'

Tsugi cocked an eyebrow as her voice trailed away into uneasy silence. Ah, the eternal question. Everyone had it, some people could tell right away, others had spent their entire relationships with him guessing. It was something Tsugi enjoyed, if he was being honest with himself; he would react to male pronouns out of convenience, but he liked the in between place he could occupy with people, so long as he kept them in the dark. It felt right, most of the time; he had never been that into his proper gender anyway. But with Kanaria...

'I could show you,' He said casually, only realizing what he had said when Kanaria's blush almost went luminous. He cleared his throat, 'No, not like that. Calm down. I meant... Ah, come here...'

He kissed her again, and when he was done he whispered something in her ear. Now, this was what felt right...

***********

'Alright!' Ren clapped her hands together, as four scowling faces glared at her from the far end of the hall with varying degrees of wariness. Ren stared back, grinning with inane happiness.

She had dragged Amy, Christina, Lorna and Sally to the loading bay of the ship, which was conspicuously empty, aside from a series of supply crates locked down into slots on the walls. It gave the rather cavernous room a look like an armadillo had been turned inside out. Not that the captives were given to inspecting the room, not with the enemy so close by, and themselves now humiliatingly naked.

That had been... a mixed blessing. On the one hand, they were naked, and that certainly colored their future in a specific way. On the other, Ren had allowed them to remove their vibrators, which was undoubtedly good. The sense of relaxation was almost palpable, like the tension just drained away into the floor. Still, there was a lingering sense of directionless arousal in Amy that one look at her fellow captives told her was shared.

'So, here's how this is going to go...' Ren spoke up, bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely suppressed excitement. 'We're going to play a game. Let's see, uh... Lorna and Sally, come over here.'

There was trepidation, but neither girl wanted to risk the wrath of Ren by dawdling too much. Their footsteps echoed lightly on the metal floor as they approached the far wall to Amy and Christina, where Ren was busily fiddling with some device sticking out of it. Eventually she turned toward the pair, bringing with her a pair of cables terminating in something very much like manacles.

'These are designed to recapture any cargo that might come loose in transit, but they'll do for the fun times today,' Ren wriggled an eyebrow suggestively. 'Lorna, c'mere.' 

The Gamma girl frowned, but followed directions. The memories of her last run in with the Half filled her mind, and being soundly beaten like that had formed an impression. Outright disobedience just wouldn't be a good idea, so she stayed still even as Ren wrapped the manacles around both wrists and turned her back to face the three other girls.

'Okay, and now Sally,' Ren snapped her fingers, drawing the other girl in and repeating the process, cuffing her and turning her to face the dwindling group of free captives. While Ren was distracted, Lorna spent her time testing the cables anchoring her to the wall. They were highly flexible, but trying to tug or pull against them made them go rigid, sealing her in place. She wasn't going anywhere Ren didn't want her to.

'Now then, I'm going to need you all to take one of these,' Ren produced a little bottle from the depths of her pocket, and tapped a number of... ominous blue pills into the palm of her hand. She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, 'I know what you're thinking, little blue pills and all, but no. These aren't the fun kind.'

'And just how am I going to even do that?' Lorna snapped, gesturing to the manacles that kept her arms raised up to her shoulders. Demonstratively, she tried to move her arms out of position, only to be brought up short by the cables pulling back against her. She scowled, glaring at Ren; it may only have been token resistance, but any fight was better than none at all.

Ren laughed, sliding a hand into the small of Lorna's back, pulling the former marine against her, relishing the feeling of warm bare skin against her. Far too many teeth glinted in her wide, energetic grin, her face mere inches from Lorna's own. This close, Lorna couldn't help but cringe; even leaving aside the sheer intensity of Ren's expression, Lorna had a kind of ancestral mistrust of nonhumans. Try as she might, it was hard to completely shake the teachings of youth, and the Gamma forests hadn't been the most welcoming place to outsiders.

'Come now soldier, you think I hadn't thought of that?' Ren said, voice low and hoarse. There was a defined fascination there, from one military woman to another, 'Any excuse to put my fingers in your mouth...'

Making Lorna blush had become something of a hobby for the crew, and Ren seemed to take a special delight in it, as the Gamma girl's cheeks lit up a deep red. There was something deeply humiliating about being forced to stand there, so close to being able to fight back, as Ren tapped her soft, full lips, chuckling to herself.

'Open up, soldier...'

Lips curling with distaste, Lorna allowed Ren to press the tiny pill against her tongue, eyes burning defiance even as her cheeks burned with something else. She felt more than a hint of trepidation, but Ren stared at her expectantly until she swallowed, an icy chill going down her spine as once again her control was wrested from her. She watched as Ren repeated the process with Sally, brimming with flirtatious glee.

Of course, she could simply give the pills to Amy and Christina, and Lorna couldn't help but feel a little cheated that Ren had felt it necessary to embarrass her just that little bit further. Obedience seemed drilled further into Amy than the rest of the captives, and though her expression showed how she truly felt, she downed the little capsule with only light hesitation. In contrast, Christina stepped back as Ren proffered her hand.

'Yes, I'm not going to take that,' She shook her head, cultured voice lilting venomously in the air. 'It's a rule I have: don't take pills without knowing what they are. It's served me well on the club scene.'

Ren tilted her head to one side, 'I could always bend you over my knee and give you the suppository version, Christina. It'd be a lot of fun... And of course you'd have to get something else in your mouth to make up for that...'

For a moment, all the noblewoman could do was give Ren the iciest stare she could muster. It was a fine attempt, and to anyone else it would have had the desired effect. But Ren seemed to thrive on the displeasure of the captives, and she simply stared back with a pleasant little smile. Finally, somebody had to break the silence.

'I have another rule,' Christina said eventually. 'Don't cause unnecessary problems. Give me that.'

'That's a good girl...' Ren said, as she placed the final pill in the brunette's hand. 'This is going to be a first for many of you, so take your medicine.' 

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking. Ren's boots scraped against the floor with each long, swinging step she took, travelling back toward the door that provided access to the rest of the ship. Four pairs of eyes kept track as she stopped, fiddling with a control panel by the door. And then she started floating.

All at once, Amy lifted up off the floor with a sickening lurch, everything inside her seeming to lift up with her. She could feel the contents of her stomach sloshing against her sides; suddenly, Ren positioning them all in the very center of the room seemed deliberate.

'Did I mention that the gravity is variable in this room?' The Half called out across the floor. 'No? Well, it totally is! So much easier to move cargo around the bay when it's completely weightless. Also, it's fun!'

With a drawn out, cheerful whoop, Ren kicked off from the floor, spinning artfully in midair as she rose higher and higher, planting her feet on the ceiling with a grin. She floated up there for a moment, upside down with her head pointed at the floor, before she realized that nobody was paying her any attention. Amy and Christina were flailing in the most ungainly of ways, unable to fully stabilize in their new environment. Sally fared even worse without the use of her arms, and only Lorna seemed to have things completely under control, a still figure amidst the chaotic movements of her compatriots.

But then, she was the only one of them that had grown up with widely available space travel and the second person in the room with a space-capable military training. Though the Gamma forest corps had focused solely on earthbound combat, the Church had given her a crash course in fighting in a zero gravity environment. Of course, that kind of training had involved stabilizing and course correction with all four limbs, but at least she could recall her training and apply some of it to keep herself still in the air now. She could look across the floor and feel safe in the knowledge that she was doing far better than some...

'You see? Fun!' Ren did a little spin in the air as she kicked off the roof, aiming herself toward the group. She corkscrewed through space, performing tiny corrections with her hands and feet to come to something resembling a graceful stop right beside Amy. In an act of considerable mercy, she reached out and caught Amy's ankle as she went through a particularly dramatic looking spin, carefully righting the redhead and planting her feet back on the ground.

'There. Try not to move around too wildly, and you should do alright in a stationary position,' She said casually, while helping out Christina in much the same way. 'Bet you're glad I gave you those motion sickness dealies before I turned off the gravity, huh?'

'That's what those were?' Amy blinked, surprised at this unusual display of generosity.

'Well, you know,' Ren shrugged, spinning idly in midair, slowly rotating, talking the entire time. 'Sick people aren't sexy. Vomit might be someone's kink, but it's not mine. I'd rather keep you looking flush and pretty, girls.'

'How comforting,' Christina deadpanned, the majority of her concentration going to keep herself upright. 

'No. I just want you looking good when I play with you,' Ren said. 'Which is what I'm going to do now. Tell me girls, you must be pretty wet after all that teasing, huh?'

This brought silence to the captives. To a one, the girls lowered their gazes, going red as they avoided the question. It wasn't like Ren didn't already know; her objective was simply to get them to say it out loud, and none of them would give her the pleasure. The reality was, it would have been hard to sit there and endure the endless teasing of those tiny vibrating eggs without getting wet, and each of the girls felt just as frustrated as that would entail. Still, they squeezed their thighs together, unwilling to let Ren see the stickiness there.

'That's what I thought,' She nodded regardless. 'You girls do not have great poker faces. Anyway, I figure I can help you out with that. We're going to play a game, because space travel can be boring. You know, sort of like eye spy... only actually entertaining.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 20



'Alright, stop it,' Christina snapped. 'Would you stop gloating? You know you've got us exactly where you want us, there's nothing we can do, and no way out. So will you stop acting like the cat that caught the mouse and just bloody get on with it?'

'Don't rush me,' She answered back with a click of her tongue. Christina's hands balled into fists at Ren's nonchalance; she wasn't used to being unable to affect people, and talking to Ren was like scrabbling at a brick wall. Her teeth clenched.

'Um, a little help?' Sally's voice brought the attentions of the room swinging around to face her. With her arms bound up and her range of movement limited, Sally had ceased being earthbound almost immediately, her bare feet finding no purchase on the smooth metal floor, and her inability to correct her course proving just one frustrating element of a litany of agitation. She floated, near to horizontal with the cables flowing sinuously behind her. 

'Huh? Oh, right,' Ren carefully lifted off, firing herself in a straight shot and taking hold of Sally's hips as the first point of contact. Her free hand found the cables, and in a few moments Ren had pulled them both down to the floor, climbing downward along the cabling. The moment she reached the mechanism that spooled the lines back in, Ren hit a button and, planting her feet firmly on the ground, she gave Sally a shove, sending her back out into space. 

'Hey!' Sally cried out, as her bindings extended far more than they had previously allowed, letting her spin out right into the direct center of the loading bay. 

'Heh, looks like fun. Lorna, up you go!' Ren hefted the Gamma girl up by the scruff of her neck and launched her skyward, this time allowing herself time to aim, sending her out into a separate section of the bay. She nodded, apparently satisfied, 'Yeah, that looks good. Now, Amy and Christina, listen up.'

Kicking off from the wall, Ren made her way back over to the pair, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. Christina braced herself, expecting that she too would be thrown around the bay for Ren's amusement, but instead the Half simply used them to keep herself steady. While Christina glared, as she had for most of the time she had been here, Amy had observed Ren, and she believed she had figured out the trick of moving without gravity; Ren moved through straight shots, using momentum to go float around in straight lines. If she got stuck without a solid surface to bounce off of, she would be in trouble...

'Here's the deal, girls. Sexy time,' Ren purred. 'In space. You two are going to float up there and make your fellow ladies in bondage get off. I don't care how. The zero-g is just extra difficulty.'

'I'm not doing that,' Christina shook her head.

'Oh, you will. Command Collars are one thing, but I think you're aware of just how much fun I could start having with you if you refuse to play ball, Chrissy baby,' Ren leaned in, blowing hot breath into Christina's ear. 'And this is a race. Which means someone can lose. You don't want to lose a game I'm playing, do you? Now, you take Lorna, and Amy can take Sally. Dance, puppets. Dance for my amusement.'

And with that, she added a gentle pressure to Christina's shoulder, tipping the noblewoman onto her back, end over end. She cried out in incoherent, angry surprise as her world shifted and pitched backward.

'Game on, ladies!' Ren laughed, bouncing into the air, aiming for a spot on the ceiling that would give her a better view of the action as it happened. 

As unpleasant as it seemed, Amy knew she would play Ren's game; the alternative was Ren's idea of punishment, and that simply wasn't an option. Amy had been with the crew since the beginning, she had been the focus of Ren's attentions when she was the only one available for them, so she knew what the preferable path was, here. 

She rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, eyes locking on Sally's writhing, weightless form. She breathed deeply, took her time, positioned herself just right... and took off. 

Despite the circumstances, despite everything that had gone on, Amy couldn't help but let out a cry of triumph as her path turned out to be correct, and she drifted with some speed up to Sally. Even reaching out caused her to move in the air a little, but Amy managed to get a grip on Sally and lift herself up into her eyeline. 

'Hey, did you hear what we have to do?' Amy said quietly, giving Sally a helpless look. The Earth girl nodded, giving Amy a weak smile.

'Yeah, I heard. Don't worry, I understand,' She said, and with the slow, deliberate motions of one who could be swung around by even the slightest of movements, parted her legs. Amy found herself having to climb down the only available surface to get to her goal: Sally's body.

Below, Christina recovered quickly; her reflexes and flexibility had been honed by years at her earthly career as a thief. One didn't survive long in that vocation if one couldn't roll with the punches, and though Ren had given her quite the disadvantage, she was quickly righted and, with a few seconds to aim, on her way over to Lorna. 

Amy took a moment to watch Christina in transit, honestly impressed by the surety of her movements, the way she had aimed indirectly, in order to grab Lorna's arm and swing around above her to dispel her residual momentum. There was no up and down orientation in zero gravity, that was a fact worth remembering...

'Alright,' Christina's voice was arch, nigh on put out, as she looked Lorna full in the eye. 'Neither of us is going to enjoy this, but we must bear it. So let's get on with it.'

As Christina took her position and the game began in earnest, the differences between the two shackled girls became readily apparent. As Amy's tentative fingers made their first gentle contact with Sally's sodden pussy, the Earth girl tipped back her head, eyes drifting closed as she drew on her favorite fantasies. As bad as she would feel for Christina when this was all over and she was led off with Ren, Sally simply couldn't let a nice girl like Amy suffer for her reluctance. At least the job in front of her wouldn't be too unpleasant, objectively speaking...

Meanwhile, Lorna was exhibiting the precise opposite actions; at Christina's every touch she would jerk her hips away with a tiny sound, the effects of zero gravity exaggerating the movement ridiculously. Were it not for the cables tethering her to a solid surface, she would have sent both herself and the noblewoman floating away into the void. As it was, each tiny motion required that Christina chase after her, irritation mounting with every expedition.

Ren watched Sally in particular, the young woman laying in space with her eyes closed, legs spread to allow Amy's fingers greater access. From her point on the ceiling, this seemed to her the closest thing to cooperation she had seen since the others had gotten here. She tilted her head. Interesting...

Sally risked a glance down between her legs, her eyes darting away as her gaze locked momentarily with Amy's. The redhead seemed reluctant to lay her eyes directly onto Sally's still glistening pussy, old world decorum still an integral part of her, of them both. Still, there was a perverse curiosity, and as her fingers rubbed gently at Sally's wet lips, she found her eyes drawn back to it again and again. And in turn, Sally couldn't help but look back at Amy...

The truth, the thing she had assured Lawrence wasn't true, was that she may not be entirely straight. It was something she grappled with in her day to day life, something she was still discovering about herself... and it might have been the stressful nature of the environment that she currently found herself in, but Sally was beginning to think that Amy might be a definitive answer to that question.

If she went with the flow, she could moan... If she let herself go, she could feel the heat of arousal filling up her nerves...

Amy really was nice looking; she was the kind of girl that Sally was sure she would have stared at had they passed each other on the street. Hopefully through the lenses of a pair of sunglasses, to avoid being discovered... Though a lack of hiding places wouldn't have stopped her. And she was nonthreatening too, that was important. She was... mellow, where everything around her was inscrutable and scary. 

And there she was, naked and... um, floating between Sally's legs. She knew she could get into this, she had to, for both of their sakes, but Amy's rubbing was too tentative, and far too gentle to really reach her. Sally spoke up.

'Um, Amy? You can...' She paused, grinned sheepishly. For just a moment, she could pretend that this was a joke, before it became serious business again, but she was speaking slightly too fast to maintain plausible deniability, 'It'd help if you... You should stick two fingers inside me...'

'Oh! Okay, yeah,' Even Amy's voice was a tad huskier than it had been earlier, back when they had all been on solid ground together, 'Don't worry, it wouldn't be the first time, here...'

She trailed off, and Sally couldn't help but moan as Amy slid two long fingers into her wetness, the pads pressing against the walls of her pussy. After the extended period of teasing that they had all weathered at Ren's hands, her clit throbbed with sensation at every touch.

'You like that?' Amy asked, peering over the top of Sally's naked form. 'Is that... right? I mean, could I be doing-'

'No, you're doing fine!' Sally's breath hitched in her throat. 'Just... keep going. More, okay?'

Amy blinked, but didn't require any further encouragement. Her fingers moved, curling at the walls of Sally's pussy; Amy only had Mara, Ren and Kanaria to go off of, and though she felt her knowledge of women's pleasure was still limited, it had never been a problem for those three. And Sally, by the sounds of things; the woman ground her hips on Amy's hand, eyes dreamy and staring at the ceiling. She seemed focused on something else, though the occasional glance in Amy's direction made the nature of her thoughts pretty clear. Amy found herself blushing.

Well, fine. Why should she care? Sally was just doing what it took to win this sick little competition before it really got going, and Amy could get behind that; Ren wanted to see them squirm of course, and thwarting Ren like this seemed at least safe. Still, the thought of being used as Sally's fantasy material, in addition to essentially being her masturbatory aid, was... oddly compelling, she was shocked to discover. 

All this time, Amy had gotten used to the idea of being the fantasy object of a group of people who, when thinking of things like that, could- and did- take her very easily, if they could muster the effort to do so. But Sally was different; Sally's fantasizing wasn't objectifying, it was collaborative. She had asked, not told. She had suggested, not ordered. And that made all the difference.

Besides, Amy had gone through precisely the same extended toying that Sally herself had, and she was just as wet and agitated as anyone else in this room. Seeing Sally writhe like this... it only made things worse. Or better. Amy hadn't decided which yet. 

'Oh damn, Amy!' Sally gasped, at a particularly deep thrust. Her eyes flew open, gazing down at the redhead with a pleasant, hot smile. Her whole body had tensed at the touch, and thrown them both of balance, but it was no great effort for Amy to compensate and reattach herself to just the right spot.

'Am I doing alright?' She asked, smiling despite herself. 'I think I'm doing alright.'

'Use... U-use your tongue...' The brunette's voice quavered at this, and she was aware that it might have been a bridge to far, but the ache within her had risen to a fever pitch, and if she hadn't been tied down, it was very likely that she would have attacked Amy, 'On my clit... please?'

For a moment, Amy thought that she was going to shake her head. This was... too similar. It was the kind of thing she had been forced to do time and again, gripped by the hair and pulled down and... No, she couldn't. It was too intimate, and here she actually did have choice...

But then there was that please...

It made all the difference. Amy was already so wet, so hot, so... needy, that perhaps that singular gesture was all the affirmation she needed.

'Okay,' She said. 'But only because you seem like such a friendly girl...'

And with that, Amy dipped her head, feeling her hair fan out against her skin in zero gravity. That part would still take some getting used to, but as her face drew closer and closer to Sally's dripping folds, the warm scent of a woman's arousal filled her nose, and she began to feel as if she had an autopilot function.

Amy had no trouble locating and homing in on Sally's clit, her lips capturing it, feeling the tickle of the scattering of light brown fuzz to be found there against her nose. She exhaled sharply against the soft, pale skin of Sally's hips, the sound close to a chuckle really, but drowned out by the earth girl's conspicuous, drawn out moan. Above them all, Ren applauded, whooping loudly.

'Go Amy!' She yelled, doing a little flip before her feet made contact with the roof again. 'Suck that clit, girl!'

Both of the girls colored red with embarrassment at the Half's exhortations, but Amy was too far gone to let it affect her performance too much, and Sally was burning bright with pleasure anyway. Any pretense that had remained was now far, far out the window. The pair were driven by far more primal desires now, and without even consciously realizing she was doing it, Amy's free hand had ventured between her legs, rubbing idle circles around her own dripping and needy pussy.

'Come on, Amy...' Above her, Sally whispered little encouragements to her, though she herself was receiving most of the benefits. 'I'm almost... I'm so... damn...'

Bodies moving without gravity behaved very differently; each tremor of Sally's shackled and open form produced such extreme motion, rocking her- and by extension Amy- from side to side in such a pronounced fashion that the redhead could be in no doubt about the effects of her licking and fingering. When Sally ground her hips against Amy's mouth, she couldn't help but smile a little.

After all that had happened to her, this was freeing. This was what she had been missing in her stay on Trismestigius, and with Sander and Mara alone before that. There was an enjoyment here that she wasn't locked out of, pleasure that wasn't conditional on her obedience, something that she could share in without expectation or the prospect of future suffering. She found herself actually wanting Sally to cum on her face, not just to win at Ren's twisted little method of amusing herself, but also just to share a little of that pleasure in return, to give back to Sally what she was, without realizing it, providing to Amy; the ability to run in her flesh again. This was play, pure and simple.

It was also amazingly- near to disturbingly, given the situation- hot... But that was just a bonus, really.

Amy's own hips were rocking back and forth against her hand by now, sending her closer and closer to her peak as she worked toward Sally's. The motion created a kind of seesaw effect in the weightless environment, drawing her away from Sally's steamy cunt before bringing her back in. She decided that if she was going to do this right, she was going to experiment; as she rocked away she slid her fingers as deep as they could go into Sally's pussy, withdrawing them as she came back in. At the same time, she would lay her lips onto the swollen clit before her with a pressure-filled kiss, before returning her tongue to the fray, running it from flat to tip over the hard little bundle of nerves.

'Oh, god! More... more like that... shit!' Sally seemed to love this kind of improvisation. In order to allow Amy more leeway in her motions, the brunette locked her ankles at the back of the redhead's neck, acting as a sort of anchor for her to attach herself to. She was disappointed she hadn't thought to do this earlier, but then, she had been somewhat preoccupied at the time. Still was, in fact. 

Sally could feel herself drawing close, and that nagging little voice at the back of her mind wondered how long it had been since she had had a good orgasm for herself. That would have been days ago, a thousand years and countless kilometers away from this place... an entirely different world, and not just in the literal sense. She had been alone that time; men and women were good for many things, but sometimes one just had to take care of these things by hand.

Besides, that little shop of hers might be interesting, but it hardly had clientele of her particular type, nor did it really give her the hours to go out and find someone, either. And now here she was, dislocated and mystified and... well, this.

She wondered, did this even count as sex?

As she reached her climax, she decided it must do; things that weren't sex didn't feel this good.

Her whole body convulsed, muscles tightening, contracting inward. Her wrists pulled at their chains, the sounds of metal clanging on metal filling her ears as electricity climbed her spine, pleasure spreading to every corner of her mind. She heard Amy make a little surprised noise as her trembling body squeezed the redhead in closer, not allowing her to pull away as she rode out the waves of her orgasm on Amy's tongue. Her eyes were closed, and she was far away, floating someplace else in her mind. She could forget where she was; in the moment, she could be alone with the pulsing, fiery ecstasy that shuddered through her veins...

And then, in a way that seemed too damn fast for Sally's liking, it was over. The real world, unfamiliar and unfair as it was, reasserted itself... And Ren was applauding. 

'Oh, hell yeah!' She whooped, doing a series of flips and loops in her upside down position. 'Now that's what I call a show! You sluts really know how to entertain a gal, now don'tcha!'

'Oh my god, I'm so sorry...' Sally blushed furiously as she realized what she had done to Amy, and quickly released the woman from the death grip her thighs had exerted on her. Though she was bright red herself, Amy waved it off as if it was nothing, a small but very genuine smile on her face. Above them both, Ren turned her attention to the other pair.

'Now, these two, on the other hand...' She said flatly, folding her arms. Amy and Sally followed her gaze, the latter far more languid and dazed than the former; the contrast was assured and immediate.

When Lorna squirmed, it wasn't a natural consequence of the things being done to her. In fact, Christina was having a hard time getting to a position to do anything to her at all. No, when Lorna squirmed, it was to escape, and in a zero gravity environment she was entirely capable of getting away whenever she wanted to.

Prayers slid constantly from her mouth, in a hushed torrent of lyrical syllables, rising in pitch and volume whenever Christina made another- increasingly half-hearted- foray between the Gamma girl's legs. At every intimate touch the soldier moved, throwing her entire body out of reach of Christina in a manner that was frankly dizzying to watch. Ren, the most experienced in fighting without the benefit of gravity, could only imagine how confusing it must be for Lorna herself. Still, she put up a good fight...

'Hey, come on!' Christina snapped, voice arch and angry. She had never looked more unkempt, hair flowing around her in sinuous tendrils, an expression like a thunderclap on her face as once practiced and assured fingers failed to hit their mark again and again. Frustration, already clearly evident through her entire being, was only rising in her...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 20



'Hey milady!' Ren called, kicking off from the ceiling of the ship back down to the floor. 'I already got my show! Game's over. You lost.'

'Oh, well that's just brilliant!' Christina growled. 'Thanks so very much, Lorna...'

'I guess you and I'll be seeing a lot of each other in future, milady,' Ren grinned, striding with long, bouncing steps over to the gravity control. 'But I'll wait until we're planetside before I start dealing with that. Way more toys there. For the moment, I'd suggest you all get back to the floor before I turn the gravity back on...'

Suddenly given a new objective, and with a little high pitched noise, Amy grabbed hold of Sally's ankles and kicked off of the nearest available surface, sending herself back down to what was nominally still the floor. The two of them reached it moments before gravity reasserted itself, as did Christina; though the sudden lurch of weight was sickening, Amy still noticed that Lorna hadn't been taken down with her. The Gamma girl landed heavily, but still on her feet and with a modicum of grace. 

She, along with Amy and Sally, glared at Christina. The word betrayal came to mind.

'Ooh, I'd forgotten how dizzy that makes you...' Ren shook her head, her steps slightly unsteady as she headed over to untie Lorna and Sally. 'Alright, now Sander won't be super happy with me if I don't get you girls squared away in the living quarters before we hit atmosphere. But we don't have enough rooms for everyone so...'

She laid a hand on Amy and Sally's bare shoulders, the intimate touch causing the latter to flinch away, though Amy was far more used to this kind of treatment by now.

'You two get to share!' She chuckled. 'Ain't that nice?'

**************

There were no windows on modern spacecraft. There had been at one stage, in the early days when architectural design was still locked to human culture, inextricably shackled to the workings of the people of Earth. Now, all that seemed so very retro. 

No, windows were a structural weakness, and all modern spacefaring species utilized single piece exterior hulls, layered against the stresses of near light speed travel. The view ports through which one could observe the outside "world," were in actuality screens connected to a corresponding series of cameras attached to the hull. Taking this into account, the act of staring out of the window just to take in the sights became slightly ridiculous, like staring to closely at a television. Since Sander was in the privacy of his cabin he didn't feel too self conscious about it, but it still nagged at the back of his mind.

Additionally, there was no reflection on these screens when active, so Mara's sudden appearance, draping herself over his shoulders, came without warning. He jumped.

'Oh, hey,' His eyes left the depthless, unsettling blackness of the screen, drifting across Mara's face as she leaned in to give him her version of a chaste kiss; this contained more tongue than one would imagine. He pulled away with a chuckle, 'I left the girls with Ren. She'd better not have broken anything.'

'They'll be fine,' Mara took a seat beside him, giving off a low whistle as she followed his gaze out of the "window" and into the depths of the universe. To a certain class of person, space was something infinitely grand and endlessly fascinating, 'Listen, where are we going? You've been awfully quiet about all this, that's not like you. I don't like it when you keep secrets from me.'

'We're about to drop out of blueshift, you'll see in a moment,' Sander gestured to the screen, leaning back in his chair. Seconds later, the haze of speed filtered away from the universe around them, like a thick heat distortion suddenly ceasing to be. A planet dominated the view of beyond, countless lights glittering across its surface. The lit landing columns of larger, in-orbit spaceports hung above it, small cruisers and larger ships- clearly planetary defense- standing watch over everything around. 

'Ship's got automated flagging and identification programs,' He said, frowning. 'And a pretty comprehensive suite of false identities loaded into it. They'll never be able to peg me as a wanted criminal, don't worry.'

Eyes narrowing, Mara stared out at the planet, glowing with life in the distance. It was actually rather easy to tell where they were now. Oh, of course there were countless inhabited worlds potentially within jump range of the class of ship Sander had obtained, but this one was... important. Every human knew about this world, even if they had never set foot upon its surface.

'That's...' She trailed off, turning to Sander with intensely questioning eyes.

'New Earth, yeah,' He nodded. He looked upon the image of it with a kind of wary fondness, contradicting emotions showing plainly on his face. He shifted in his seat as a series of notifications scrolled across the top of the screen, alerting the registered pilot of the activation of the ship's identification protocols. Those ships out there were calling out to the Gespenst, and not only was it answering them, it was lying.

'Are you insane?' Mara asked slowly. 'I understand the desire for a holiday, but perhaps you could have chosen a better destination? Say, one that isn't the galactic hub of human civilization? One that, just maybe, has more relaxed laws? One that allows Command Collars?' 

Sander grinned as the ship's mainframe informed him that their fake IDs had passed muster with the orbital defenses, and the prow angled up as they accelerated, heading for the northernmost point of New Earth.

'Not really...'

**************

'How do you deal with stuff like that so calmly?'

Amy inclined her head in Sally's direction as the sound of her voice broke through the- frankly uncomfortable- silence that had fallen shortly after Ren deposited them into this small, yet undeniable step up from the cells they had known previously inhabited, and locked the door behind her. 

'What stuff? You mean Ren?' Absently, Amy's fingers toyed with the hem of the slightly too big black shirt that had mercifully been left in the closet. The clothes helped her separate; by now, all that strangeness seemed awfully far away... with only a single persistent splinter of it needling at her mind, in the pressure of her unfulfilled lusts. She still wished she didn't feel this way, as usual, but something had been different with Sally there...

'Yeah I mean Ren,' Sally paced incessantly, up and down the length of the cabin, before finally deciding to change course and throwing herself down on one of the beds beside Amy. 'And everything else. How do you... decompress, from that?'

'Ren's kind of a special case,' Amy began, pulling her knees up to her chest. 'With Sander and the others I know they won't hurt me, for whatever reason. With Ren I get the idea that she might, if I step out of line. But... Um, you were there, and that helped. This time.'

'Me?' Sally tilted her head.

'The only person from my own time that's not Christina? Yeah, you helped. It felt more bearable, having an ally there. I've never had that before.'

'Oh, so compared to you I suppose I'm lucky...' She frowned, looking Amy up and down. 'I've got you, right from the start. How long were you...?'

'Too long,' Amy shook her head. 'I was the very first one, back when it was only Sander and Mara on this end. For them, it's been three years since I last got away... All I could think about was sticking to them both, the Doctor and Rory...'

'Rory?'

'I... Let's not talk about it,' With a helpless smile, Amy shifted to cross her legs. It hadn't yet been long enough for her frustrations to completely dissipate, and by now her baser instincts had reached the point where she would leap on anyone going given the slightest provocation, or at least that's how it felt. She wouldn't have been terribly surprised to discover that Ren had put her in this unfulfilled position on purpose, just to see her squirm. She had done it before.

'Quite a view, though...' Sally said in a small voice, craning her neck to look out onto the planet spinning through the dark sea of stars through the window. Amy nodded; no matter how many times she saw the cosmos, she could never get over it. Even given her current circumstances, the sheer, staggering potential of the new world before her sparked a certain spirit of adventurousness. 

The silence between them grew uncomfortable, as the two of them stared resolutely out the window. Amy just knew that her face was still flushed, and that that fact couldn't have escaped Sally's notice. It wouldn't take too great a leap of logic to connect that to what they had just been doing...

'Um, hey...' Sally's brow furrowed, and her eyes hesitantly turned to Amy. 'You didn't...'

'I didn't what?'

'Before, when we, um... Well, you know,' Sally shifted her weight from side to side, apparently unsure as to how to continue. 'When we... Earlier. That was nice... but you didn't get off, did you?'

Amy blinked, actually had to pause and collect her thoughts for a moment. In her time with Sander she had been made to cum, denied the same, had both an inordinate amount of attention placed on her orgasm and none at all, at various times. But Sally's question was the first time, in all of that, that was at all a positive or genuine moment. When she answered, the idea of not replying with similar honesty never even crossed her mind.

'I didn't,' She confessed. 'Though not for lack of trying...'

Sally frowned at this, opening and closing her mouth several times as though the words were having trouble getting their start. For a moment, it seemed as if she would lapse into silence again, but she suddenly spoke, words garbling in their rapidity. 

'Well, maybe I could help with that. As a one time deal.'

'What?'

'You're all red, Amy,' Sally sidled closer, one hand slowly edging under the hem of Amy's skirt as she watched. The redhead remained still, completely unsure as to what she wanted, 'So let me do this for you. Let me return the favor... And let's not let that crazy woman win...'

Automatically, Amy felt her hips shift, legs spreading wider as she leaned back and closed her eyes. She moaned as she felt Sally's fingers slide into her, the other woman's breath hot against her neck. She must have been so close, but Amy couldn't bring herself to really care. Whatever this was, it was completely freeing; her body floated among the stars outside without having to worry about her captors, or her situation, or rescue or... anything, except the sheer sensation of being with another person. And when she shuddered silently this time, when she came... She smiled. 

Amy Pond smiled, as she experienced her first unrestrained orgasm in her collar.

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 21



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. For the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hello, readers! Sorry it's been so long between drinks, here! I've been working on my Halloween story... among other things. The release schedule will be much tighter from this point onward, I promise. Anyway, many thanks to LogicalDreamer and Allyourbase for beta reading this chapter, and I truly appreciate your votes, feedback or comments, guys. They are the reason I continue. Enjoy!

-Kurokami

*****************

'Sander, I'm starting to have serious doubts about your judgment here,' Ren frowned, as the remainder of the crew filtered into the airlock. 'Maybe you've forgotten, but what we're doing isn't exactly legal.'

'So, yeah, what Ren said,' Tsugi continued. 'Perhaps bringing us to one of the only places in the universe that still enforces old Earth law wasn't such a great idea.'

'Guys, why is it you still have so little faith in me?' Sander threw up his hands and leaned back against the wall. 'I dunno, I think warping the laws of time and space with a machine the size of a planet would have netted me a little credibility, but whatever...'

'So, what? We just hide Amy and the others? Cover up the Command Collars?' Dulcimer sent, causing Mara to jump. As usual, the Dullahan had a talent for moving silently.

'No,' Sander frowned. 'Goddamn it, guys... Just look, okay?'

With a frustrated sigh, he keyed in the command to open the airlock, the door pulling open with surprising ease now that the exterior sensors had ascertained they were in a habitable environment. Beyond, there was the kind of uncomfortable silence that tended to develop around the more upscale spaceports. Sander stepped outside.

'Welcome to the Selestene Arcology,' He said smugly. 'That answer your questions?'

'How could you possibly get us into Selestene?' Ren found herself jogging down the runway just to confirm it. 'It's completely privatized, the entry fees alone would cost-'

'I'm still technically classed as a resident,' Sander shrugged. 'I grew up here.'

'You're a Selestene brat?' Mara grinned, giving a low whistle as she looked up at the sky above. 'Did not know that.'

'Lucky bastard!' Ren shook her head. 'Rich boys, I swear to god...'

'Some people have all the luck,' Lysithea agreed quietly. 'I grew up in a hive...'

'Hey, don't bitch, you're all here now. If I hadn't grown up here, you'd have no way in,' Sander said. 'Damn, I'd forgotten how the filters make the air smell here.'

'And what, pray, is Selestene supposed to be?' Christina asked, the labors of earlier apparently having left no effect on her natural archness. Even so, she kept an edgy, wide berth from the loader robots that clacked their way around the steel-lined walkways of the spaceport. She may have a noble bearing, but Christina's line was all but forgotten in the centuries that had passed between her native present and the current one. 

'Well, most importantly, it's that,' Ren nudged the noblewoman in the ribs, before casting a gesture skyward. Christina's gaze followed, seeing nothing but an expanse of cloudy sky, threaded with blue. Ren's arm fell over her shoulders, causing her to flinch quite noticeably, though the Half's action only served to bring her in closer, 'Come on, look hard. Maybe you'll see a dead pixel...'

'It's a dome,' Lorna said flatly, without breaking stride as she walked down to the planet's surface. Ren pouted, disengaging from Christina as her fun was promptly spoiled.

Amy made her way down the walkway, followed closely by Sally. She felt oddly buoyed by the presence of the brunette, like whatever she faced on this new planet, she at least had one person at her back. Almost as one, both girls craned their necks skyward to view this apparently strange sky. With a little effort, one could see into the middle distance, and realize that the sky was in fact a solid surface. A screen upon which the sky was being projected.

'That's... awfully retro,' Christina deadpanned. 

'It's necessary,' Sander snapped back. 'This whole area is pretty much uninhabitable, if it wasn't for the dome we'd all be freezing in the dark right now.'

'And if that happens to result in a rich man's holiday home, well, that has to be a coincidence,' Mara said smoothly.

'Hey, rich people got here first!' Sander began to sound defensive, his inner wealth coming out. 'Do you know how much it'd cost the Terran government to maintain this place, let alone build it? So what if this is private property? Besides, what are you all bitching about? You get to come to a lawless goddamn paradise completely free!'

'Yeah, and don't get me wrong, that's great,' Mara said. 'But what's more great is how this place stays lawless. I've always found that hilarious.'

'Oh yeah, we're on the planet's only Sigma Bird sanctuary,' He grinned. 'That's... yeah, that's still kind of priceless.'

Those who understood the history of the place nodded in agreement. The inescapable fact that Selestene had had to struggle against just after its foundation was that the Terran government would not stand for the kind of effectively lawless hive of privilege that had been brewing under the dome. The original founders had desired to market their domed city to those rich folk who might require a physical location close to the hub of human society and commerce, yet still more than... relaxed, when it came to Terran laws. But such a place would be shut down near immediately; enter the Sigma Birds.

Human impact on the planet had altered the environment to such an extent that the Sigma Birds, a species unique enough to garner cultural interest, could no longer survive outside of the carefully controlled environment of an Arcology. The birds were allowed to colonize inside Selestene, specifically to be used as a kind of shield against the Terran government; since the funds required to keep the city running would be too much for the planetary authorities to bear, they had no choice but to tolerate the criminal interests running Selestene, so long as they were prepared to foot the bill to keep the Sigma Bird population alive and well. It was P.R in weaponized form.

'Alright, group!' Sander gathered the entire crew around, but his words were more directed at Amy and the other captives. 'A few ground rules: Now, Selestene doesn't have any specific problems with... what we're doing here, so I don't expect any we'll be having any problems with the law. That being said, stick together. Amy, other girls, do not wander off. You have no idea the kind of trouble that a cute girl in a Command Collar could get into in a place like Selestene. Remember Theros, Amy? Yeah, worse than that. It's amazing, and I should know. Don't make me hold your hand until we reach the end of the tour, okay?'

'Yes, fine. Whatever,' Christina snapped. 'I suppose it's all academic until I do escape, anyway. Stop talking.'

'Ever the charmer, Lady de Souza,' Sander grinned. 'So glad I've got you under my thumb. Now, unless anyone else has anything to say...'

Clearly at least a few of the group did, though this didn't stop Sander from turning on his heel and leading the group across the floor of the spaceport, winding their way as a tightly knit group through the seemingly tidal movements of the rest of the crowd. Amy couldn't help but stare at the countless ships entering and exiting the airspace above them, heading off to the horizon where she could only assume there was some form of exit out of the dome. To her, this spaceport was a vast improvement over the last one Sander had taken her to; the grubby and workmanlike port of Chroma city on Theros. It seemed like so long ago, now. 

After enduring a litany of security checks- apparently the rest of them were allowed entry only by dint of being guests of an established resident- and the payment of what still seemed an exorbitant series of fees, Sander was allowed to lead his group out of port and into Selestene itself. After an electronic voice welcomed them into the city in a highly formal manner, Mara trotted forward to catch up with her boyfriend.

'Uh, Hackett? How did you do that?' She prodded him inquisitively. 'I mean, wouldn't the false identity you used to land us conflict with the one on your residency forms? Which is the name of a felon, anyway?'

'I exploited a security flaw,' Sander shrugged, gesturing to the group to follow as he began walking. 'See, my residency status is attached to my residence, which through a series of... strange bureaucratic maneuvers, most of which highly illegal, does not require a valid identity attached to it. My father was not a nice man, but on the flipside we never paid a cent of property tax, so hey.'

'That makes almost no sense,' Ren said.

'Welcome to Selestene.' 

It wasn't something Sander was particularly proud of; despite the prestigious reputation that the domed Arcology had cultivated, it was in reality merely a collection of loopholes and vaguely criminal organizations banding together to defend themselves. Selestene was one city-sized wolf in sheep's clothing. And he was leading them all right inside its jaws, for a holiday.

'It's awfully... desolate,' Amy ventured. As one, the crew wheeled to stare, blinking in surprise. For a moment she felt like shrinking from their gazes, before she regrouped and remembered how these things had gone before, 'You know, lonely. It's a city, right? Where's the color? It's all monochrome.'

She gestured to the pure white skyscrapers rising from the ground, looming over white streets and featureless concrete facades. They were mostly alone, the streets near to empty during working hours; typically the people who did business in Selestene preferred to do it in private. It all combined to give the area an oddly lifeless feel; as though it were abandoned.

'What are you talking about?' Mara asked, confused. 

'Oh, right,' Sander snapped his fingers, before fishing around in his pocket. He withdrew four small, white cases, proffering them to Amy and the other captives, 'Almost forgot. Here.'

'And what are these?' Amy took one, poked at it theatrically.

'Contact lenses. Just put them in, you'll see what I mean.'

Upon opening her case, Amy saw that there was indeed a pair of near translucent lenses sitting at the bottom of it. She had been around Sander long enough to know that there probably was no trick involved here; he wouldn't bother himself with something as strange as this when the Command Collar around her neck would do just as well with half the hassle and, besides, they were in public. He might have the good sense to take them all someplace where the sight of a slave might not cause concern, but any form of watchful eye would give him at least a little reason to pause.

So she opted to be the first, sliding the thin lenses into place with the tentative care of a first-timer, causing Sander to give her a strangely encouraging thumbs up.

'Okay, now squeeze your eyes shut for a second,' He nodded. 'They're pressure sensitive.'

Amy did as he said, and when she opened her eyes again the world around her was filled with light. The change had been almost instantaneous, plastering every available surface with colorful billboards and banners, advertizing and lighting casting a neon glow on the city.

'Whoa...' She blinked with surprise, the glow persisting as the other girls followed suit with their own contacts.

'Sometimes I forget you guys aren't from around here,' Sander said. 'We've all had our eyes hacked to see augmented reality, but I guess you past people need a little help.'

'Hell, I had mine done on the military's dime,' Ren grinned.

'Yes, I'm glad you're proud of being cheap, Ren,' Sander deadpanned. 'Good for you. Now that the girls can actually see the city, can we go? The place we're staying is pretty nearby.'

'Aw, we're not staying at your place?' Mara pouted. 'I'd kinda like to see where you grew up, Hackett.'

'Ha, no. You couldn't pay me to stay in that old place for too long,' He shook his head. 'This city is already a bit too familiar for comfort. Come on, let's get inside.'

The building he took them to was yet another towering obelisk, the front façade now emblazoned with its name: Nirvana. At the back of the group, Lysithea let out a low giggle, and even Amy couldn't help but smile at the sheer cheek of being made to return here. Of course, she did wonder whether events within would be as... dramatic as they had been on Theros.

'The Selestene branch is very exclusive,' Lysithea said, looking up at the towering building. 'I tried for months to get a transfer out here, but then... well, I got offered something much more interesting.'

'Well, I suspect things will be far more entertaining for you as a guest than as an employee,' Tsugi piped up. 'Besides, the Selestene Nirvana doesn't take on so many personnel with your special skills, Ly. This place is a combination hotel too, they generally expect the guests will bring their own entertainment.'

'Check!' Mara giggled, pulling Amy into a tight hug. 

'Yeah, I'm beginning to see Sander's plan, here,' Ren nodded, swaggering through the main doors in a way that would- in a place as high class as Nirvana- surely attract the attention of security almost immediately. Sander ensured he got to the reception desk before she did, signing them in under a series of false names and collecting a set of keycards, which he distributed to his crew.

'We're up high,' He said as they piled into an expansive, polished metal and glass elevator at the far end of the reception hall. 'I hired out an entire floor. Should be enough space for eleven people, huh?'

'God, you fucking rich folk...' Ren shook her head.

'I am tired of you people taking advantage of my money and then admonishing me for using it!' Sander gestured widely. 'Am I not in the business of impressing you fuckers?'

'Yeah yeah, alright,' Ren grinned. 'Calm the fuck down, Richie Rich.'

'That is the most dated reference I've heard anyone use, ever,' Mara narrowed her eyes at her sister.

'And we're in the future,' Amy said. 'It was dated a thousand years ago.'

'Okay, Red's got a point,' Ren shrugged. 'Shichi likes the oldies, and what he watches, I've gotta watch too.'

'How do you... survive, with that little guy all up in your head?' Tsugi gave Ren a questioning look from the far end of the elevator. 'I can barely stand to be around my own thoughts some days.'

'Oh look, we're here,' Ren said pointedly, leading the way through the doors as they slid open. Mara was next to follow, letting out a low whistle as she stepped out into the foyer. The reaction was echoed, again and again, as the crew filed out.

The room they had entered, while clearly designed for transit alone, was expansive and immaculately kept. Consisting mainly of whites and cool blues, the foyer was lit with a soft glow that the light coloration only enhanced, though Amy struggled to find the source of the light. Two hallways branched off from the main room in either direction, a series of doors lining each one. 

'Typical Nirvana presentation,' Lysithea mused. 'Spotlessly clean and minimalist, like they don't want you paying attention to the rooms themselves.'

'Rather the employees, then?' Dulcimer sent.

'Essentially.'

'Good to know,' Ren added. 'Where can I, uh, procure one of those?'

'You catch what you can find,' Sander cut in, palming his keycard. 'This is a working establishment, and these are all suites. Drag whatever you want back there, do whatever they'll let you for whatever price they feel is necessary. I'm rich.'

'And I still have my employee discount,' Lysithea nodded to herself, smiling. Sander threw a dramatically pointed finger in her direction.

'I don't even want to know what that means,' He said, taking Mara's hand. 'Girlie, we're in the corner room down the hall. Amy, you're with us. Lorna, you're with Ren, Dulsie can take Christina. Tsugi and Kana, you take Sally.'

'Are you assuming we'll be sharing a room?' Kanaria squeaked, turning red, as was her custom. Behind her, safely out of sight, Tsugi rolled his eyes, apparently quite comfortable in his role already. Without a word, he took her hand, gestured to Sally, and selected a door at random.

'He's assuming we'll be sharing a room,' He told her, not unkindly, as he unlocked the door.

'Well well, Gamma girl, I guess we're roomin'!' Ren winked, practically throwing herself through another door, all the while pulling roughly on Lorna's shirt to impel her to follow. The soldier cried out inarticulately as she tumbled through into the room, and the door slammed shut behind her.

Any further conversation was swallowed up by the sound of the closing door, as Sander's group spread out into their own room. As Amy remained by the door, Sander and Mara took a brief tour of the room, the former particularly enjoying the dizzying view from the enormous window that dominated the outer walls. The city was aglow below them, augmented reality neon blooming and pulsing across the buildings and up into the sky itself. Each one was animated in its own special, idiosyncratic way, the flourish and extravagance of it determined by the financial status of the company in question. 

'This is nice,' Mara nodded in satisfaction, taking her time to hop over the small set of steps that led up to what looked- from the doorway- to be a rather marvelous bedroom. She was sure she saw shackles.

'It's a step up from the cells,' Amy took her first steps from the entrance into the room proper, thick carpet cushioning her every footfall. What she had said was an understatement; standing here, she had no trouble believing she was in one of the more expensive establishments in what was already a highly expensive city.

'Oh, hey guys, come check this out,' Sander said, waving the girls over to the window. 'It's almost night time.'

Amy made it to the window just in time to see it; the colors of sunset running across the sky like melting wax, fleeing from one edge of the dome to the other, in the space of a few seconds. The artificial night swooped down upon the landscape, as though the sky had been switched off like a light. In the darkness that followed, countless stars flickered into existence.

'Well that's efficient,' Mara said, peering out into the developing night. The engine exhaust of several personal craft could be seen flaring in the distance; mechanical fireflies for a night supported by cold steel.

'And kind of surprising if you don't know it's coming,' Sander smiled to himself. It had been too long, and there was a familiarity here that he quickly discovered he had been missing, 'The sunrise will probably be enough to wake you up as it is. Bedrooms are through there, by the way. Amy, go and check yours, there should be some bags in there, if the loading bots did their jobs right. That's not assured, even in a place like this.'

He pointed her off to a door neighboring what seemed to be the master bedroom, and Amy found herself going to it merely out of curiosity. She wondered what kind of place Sander would stow her, and for how long they would be here in this place. No matter what, it would be a step up from the cells, but that was hardly saying much. 

The lights flickered on as she entered the room, revealing it to be much the same as the living area; spotlessly clean and minimalist, with the glass of the other room's outer wall continuing unabated into this one. It was a small room, containing a double bed and one of those ubiquitous wall screens, the purpose of which Amy was only beginning to guess at. They seemed to her to be a multipurpose device capable of doing pretty much anything that could require a screen, and given that this was a hotel, Amy found herself stuck wondering perversely how she could order porn on it. Alone at last, as the door shut behind her, she giggled to herself.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 21



A pair of suitcases had been deposited on the floor by the bed, apparently by the little, skittering robots that had rounded on the ship after they had landed. She made a beeline for them, hoping to find a change of clothes in them. Sander's new ship was certainly a step up from the old shuttle he had ferried her around in the first time they had been offworld together, but it still seemed to be filled with stale air, as though the recycling process deadened it somehow. She felt uncomfortable in her skin.

Luckily, Sander's clothing restrictions had relaxed somewhat in that gap, and Amy was able to dig out a number of loose fitting, comfortable looking garments from the first suitcase she cracked open. She found that the other door in the room connected it to the master bedroom, a prospect that Amy found slightly troubling, but beyond that was a bathroom, replete with a shower. Her shoulders sagged with relief, her only concern being hope that she could lock the door. 

She gathered up a pair of shorts and a shirt, and walked on through, sparing a glance out of the opened door of the connecting bedroom to check on Sander and Mara; the pair of them seemed to be deep on conversation, draped over the large couch that comprised much of the sitting area. It seemed as though she had the run of the place, until they began to wonder what had happened to her; if they were half as tired from the journey as she herself was, Amy knew she could count on being left alone for at least a few hours.

To her consternation the doors seemed to operate under an electronic locking system, and she had neither the keycard, nor the inclination to fiddle about with a piece of technology she had little hope of understanding. As a result, she had to make do with simply closing the bathroom door over and hoping, stripping out of her clothes in front of the mirror. Luckily for her, the panel controlling the water flow to the shower was significantly more user friendly, and in moments she was standing naked in preparation, prodding at the temperature controls.

And then the door opened.

Given the reasons behind even her presence in this place, being caught naked like this was a honey trap she was sure the interloper wouldn't be able to resist. She did not, however, seize up or attempt to cover herself; what would be the point? She didn't even turn around, finding herself able to watch Sander with cautious determination via the bathroom mirror.

He approached slowly, his footsteps muffled by the sound of running water, as her fingers tapped a delicate rhythm on the counter top. As she watched his reflection draw close, she saw his hands reach out and take hold of her hips, pulling her firmly against him.

'Is this for me?' He said with a light laugh, as Amy watched his reflection eye her pale curves with an appreciative expression. It took a lot of willpower to stop herself from twitching, especially when his left hand ventured out from her hips, moving inward to caress the firm skin of her stomach, 'You should be like this tonight, when you go to bed.'

'I don't sleep naked,' She made sure to keep his gaze. Sander may be many things, but he was no direct threat to her safety. He was no Ren, and no matter how he touched her, Amy knew she at least had the option to talk back to him. Granted, he took it as sport, but even the act of resisting made her feel more herself.

'I wasn't asking,' He answered with a smile, the expression intensely frustrating to her. Even more so when, after planting a gentle, far too familiar kiss to her cheek, he simply left, as though his point had been made. 

The problem was, it kind of had.

********

As she lay staring out at the dark, Amy realized that there was a reason she never slept naked. 

In this case, the reason was sheer nerves; Sander hadn't asked her to do this for no reason, and that by itself was a rather uncomfortable conclusion. What was he planning?

Well... at least the basic part of that was exceedingly obvious, and the thought that at any moment he could come through that door had made it hard for her to stay asleep for too long at a stretch. Even the smallest of sounds got reinterpreted into some part of Sander's plan in her increasingly stressed mind. 

The sound of the door actually opening, though, was unmistakable...

The darkness was thick and impenetrable; the lights of the city outside barely reached this high up, and the colors of the advertising that swarmed outside only existed in the eye, and cast no light that one could see by. Amy had her back to the door, and even facing what little light there was coming in through the window, she couldn't see her own hand in front of her face; she was reduced to staying put, the sheets drawn up high over her otherwise naked body, and waiting.

'I can see you,' She heard his voice, low and soft from out of the black behind her, causing her to twitch slightly in surprise. 'I can see you perfectly. Robotic eye, remember? I'd be an idiot not to get the model with night vision.'

Amy felt his weight press down on the bed beside her, though she didn't move. She felt the sheet give way, the touch of another warm body sliding in beside her, and she realized: he was naked too. His chest pressed against the skin of her back as he insinuated himself into her every curve, hot flesh pressed together in the dark. A shiver ran down her spine as Amy felt his lips run the curve of her shoulder.

'I can see how obedient you've been, presenting yourself like this for me,' His breath ran in a hot stream across the nape of her neck. 'I was expecting to have a fight on my hands...'

At this, Amy felt the slithering suggestion of fingers beneath the sheets, moving up to cup her breast, drawing a hissing gasp from her lips.

'But instead, I've got something else on them...'

The tips of his fingers pressed into her skin, strumming the nerves therein with a gentle discomfort, the stimulation a mixed signal that was a shock to the system, blind as she was. Every point of contact was enhanced, every sound he made much louder in the dark. His arms wrapped around her, drew her in close, and for the first time she felt his hardness press in against her thigh.

'Things have been kind of insane lately, I haven't really had any time to spend with you properly, and that's on me. Not good hosting at all,' He spoke with the kind of surety Amy remembered vividly; at the height of his power and confidence, Sander had spoken to her like that. She couldn't see it, but Amy was certain that Sander was grinning out at the darkness, as if daring it to watch what he did next closely.

'And this is your way of making it up to me?' Amy whispered, trying to keep her voice steady over the prurient activities of his wandering hands. In response, Sander slid his other hand beneath her, holding her thigh in place so his other hand could wander away from her breasts and down between her legs. His fingers pushed against the lips of her pussy, the touch sudden, and hard, and stunning. She gasped.

'Yeah, in part... But you've gotta keep quiet, Amy,' Sander paused long enough to lay a toothy, nipping kiss to her neck, tasting the salt of her body. 'I left the door open. Mara's asleep in the next room, and if we wake her up... she might want to join in.' 

Amy's shoulders tensed, she almost turned around in his arms, before she remembered just how pointless that would be. Besides, that would give him better access to her mouth, and she didn't exactly want that. Nor did she want Mara joining this little rendezvous. Whether she had been able to or not, Amy wanted to sleep; space travel, and the things that had happened to her in transit, were tiring, and at least with Sander there was a measureable ending to this. Mara could, and would, if given the chance, go all night. 

She shuddered involuntarily; she could still remember that night on Theros, after she had truly angered Mara and learned exactly how far the blonde was willing to go.

'This is just a little warm up, though,' He continued, voice low and assured. 'I've got things planned for tomorrow.'

'Well, of course you do, it's a vacation,' Amy tried to inject a little sarcasm back into her voice, to challenge the man currently keeping her legs spread while he rubbed at her pussy, but it was difficult enough just keeping her voice steady. No matter how she wished to deny it, Sander had talented fingers and an at times apparently supernatural understanding of what her body liked. She continued, gasping lightly as his thumb strummed over her clit, 'Why can't you just see the sights like a normal person?'

'Mostly? I grew up here. I've already seen a lot of this, though I'll admit things have changed a bit since I left,' He murmured, raising his hand for a moment to place his palm flat against her cunt and grind until he located her clit properly. Then he hit it hard, rubbing fiercely enough to make Amy make a sound between a moan and a deep, shuddering breath, certainly loud enough for Mara to hear. Sander laughed into her ear, 'Besides, it seems like someone likes it when I'm not being a normal person. Shh!'

Nothing changed in the seconds that followed; Sander was content to let time march off, second by second, into the darkness, as he flexed his palm on Amy's clit, over and over. Amy was forced to bite her lip and writhe helplessly in his arms, determined not to give him the satisfaction of crying out. She strained her ears beyond the sound of her own fluttering breath, and Sander's deep breathing beyond it, in the hopes of hearing Mara stirring before she woke up. It was hopeless of course, but she needed something to do, some objective to concentrate on beyond the increasing pressure and need between her legs. Something that she could control...

But really, what was the point?

She could try to exert control over the situation, but that collar was still around her neck and besides, Sander had her over a barrel. He had already proven his ability to get what he wanted from her... what would she get from resisting, beyond an additional participant and two people to satisfy. She didn't think she could handle that.

'On your back, Amy...' He whispered, hands finally leaving her pussy to stroke the generous curve of her hips, leaving a shameful, sticky trail of her own wetness along her skin. Even obeying, Amy could only see him as a vague suggestion in the gloom, and the idea that he could see her just fine, was vaguely unsettling.

There was a fabric hiss as the sheets were drawn back across her body, revealing her nudity to Sander's enhanced vision. Amy could feel him moving in the dark, pulling himself up onto his knees and looming over her; it felt like the monster under her bed had come out to see what was going on topside. Her fingers tapped at the mattress in a helpless sort of way, as even in near complete darkness Amy felt Sander's eyes sweep her body.

'You're beautiful like this,' He mused, and Amy felt him lay his hand on her shoulder as he repositioned himself, moving up between her legs. 'Waiting for me...'

Her legs twitched, she almost closed them to block him out, but she held off at the last moment. Why provoke him? She knew what came next, she could already feel his hips press against her, his erection laying atop her pussy, waiting. Allowing him a moment to bask, to prepare and... admire her. 

She only grunted a little as he pulled back and pushed his entire length into her in one smooth motion, filling her cunt in a way that, for a moment, transformed her into a liquid, squirming mess. She reined it in, but Amy remained terribly aware of the heat that had built in the pit of her stomach over the attention Sander had given her. She just knew she was blushing; her only consolation was that night vision didn't typically show color.

Sander moved inside her, lifting her legs up and spreading them as he did so. Amy ended up with her knees at her chest, ankles near to his shoulders, as he slid out of her, silken smooth and hot, before driving back in.

'You're wet, Amy,' Before she had even realized it, Sander had leaned in over her, far closer than she was comfortable dealing with. 'You might act aloof, but I know how to get to you, every time...'

With that, he leaned in and sucked, long and hard, at her nipple. The sensation was electric, and Amy's back arched involuntarily, pushing more of her supple flesh into his mouth. Even as it was happening, she realized just how telling the action was, but... something was different, here.

It was the dark, it had to be. Rendered blind, there was a fundamental disconnect between herself and Sander; he was there with her, but trapped in her body's desires like she was, Amy couldn't see him, and that was enough. His cock worked deeper, to the hilt, fucking her in slow, deliberate motions, and Amy was alone with the sound of her own panting breath, and Sander's occasional grunt.

Guilt rose in her chest, seemed to build into a tremendous weight, entirely independent of Sander's weight atop her. It would be far too easy to simply disconnect from her past, as she was disconnected from Sander, and let what was happening wash over her. To let the man do his thing, and to ride out the sensations it would produce in her. But Amy wasn't that kind of woman, she couldn't be. Not anymore. 

She wouldn't run away from her guilt.

The truth was, she had once been able to do that very easily, to simply forget the facts that were inconvenient or troubling to focus on what was in front of her. It had been how she had survived Leadworth, during her formative years when everyone but her had been convinced that she was unstable, and that the Doctor wasn't real. It had allowed her to run free with the Doctor, with her wedding day always one day away, fleeing from everything that had once caused her so much trouble. It had...

It had allowed her to accept Rory's proposal, even when she wasn't entirely sure. Even when she had still held out hope that the man in the big blue box would return for her someday. 

Because Rory was normal, and Rory was nice, and Rory was, above all, safe. Rory was everything she hadn't been and, in a way, marrying him would attach her to him permanently; he could have been her shield from the normal world around her. Of course, that made it all sound so stolid and tactical, which it definitely wasn't... She loved him, of course, but...

But some part of her had been using him, as terrible as that sounded. He was the one who accepted her, weird as she was, by simply shrugging and saying yes. He was her in-between; normal enough for Leadworth, but out of step enough to weather her storm. In retrospect, he must have had the strength he exhibited now back then too, in order to pull that off. It couldn't have been easy, following Amy Pond around. 

She either hadn't known or hadn't cared how all that would affect him when he finally did know the truth, though. Most of the time, Amy was convinced that the former was true, that she had merely been ignorant, but at her weaker, self-condemnatory moments, she could point the finger of blame solely at herself, and claim the latter. Whatever the case, the truth had come out in the end, and Rory had died for it. Twice.

That had been her crystallizing moment, the point where all the little puzzle pieces slid into place and she had fully accepted that, Doctor or no, Rory was the one for her. Maybe someday, she would be able to make it all up to him.

But for now, all she could do was remember, and feel what she had to feel. She wouldn't slide into old patterns again, no matter how painful or troubling or guilt ridden the alternative was. And that meant being inside her own head while Sander fucked her, and feeling guilty about how good he could force her to feel.

It shouldn't be this easy for him...

'Hey, kiss me,' His voice tore her away from her thoughts, the sound was very close, in the darkness. Amy could feel the heat of his body atop hers, moving in the gloom. His grip on her thighs had definitely tightened, since he had started.

'What?' She shot back, stifling a gasp at a particularly deep thrust. Her tone was one of disbelief; he had never asked for this before, and why on earth would he think she would comply?

... Aside from the collar, of course...

'Remember, I can see you,' He said, and Amy could practically feel his grin above her. 'You're all red, you've been biting your lip, and you're holding onto this bed for dear life. I know it's not incredibly PC, but you're enjoying this. You want this, and now you're going to show me...'

Sander punctuated this by stroking a finger directly across her clit, before returning his hand to its former position supporting her leg. Amy's response was... telling; she gasped sharply, her hips rolling to meet his thrusting hardness against her will. It seemed that her furtive orgasm with Sally earlier in the day had done little to alleviate her frustrations; the hours of teasing had taken their toll, and combined with what Sander was currently doing to her, it had left her entirely too sensitive. 

If she delayed, Amy ran the risk of allowing Sander to point out her reaction to her in greater detail than she cared to imagine. Scientist that he was, he would probably take the opportunity to experiment, find out what other things he could do to her, up until he woke Mara, which probably wouldn't end well for anyone...

Amy craned her neck, pressed her lips to what she hoped were Sander's own. From his answering muffled chuckle, she had evidently hit home, and Amy counted off a few seconds in her head before dropping back down to the pillow below. It had been a rather chaste affair really, but she hoped that the gesture itself would be enough for him. 

'Oh, come on, now!' He admonished in a low whisper, his lips brushing against the curve of her jaw. 'You call that a kiss? And here I thought you used to do that for a living...'

If possible, Amy blushed harder at the mention of her pre-time travel "vocation." Though possibly inadvertent, she wouldn't put it past Sander to understand instinctively what would cross her mind during things like this, and to strike out at that mercilessly. Mentioning her work as a kissogram was a low blow...

Rory had never liked it, she knew. Neither had she, if she really thought about it. Oh, conceptually it had seemed alright; wearing a tawdry costume was really no different from wearing the mask of "ordinary Amy Pond" she had worn ever since deciding that pretending the Doctor was fiction was easier than sticking to her guns. But the reality of the job had been... a bit too much, in some respects. Though she often considered herself apart from the rest of Leadworth, some of their morals had rubbed off on her; she found herself squirming at the very prospect of being objectified like that.

But what else could she do? Leadworth was a small town, and it wasn't like she had any qualifications of her own to speak of; Rory had always been the one with the bright future. She had just always been... Amy, really. The one without a plan, because there was always a small possibility, in the back of her mind, of a house call...

So despite how uncomfortable it made Rory, to say nothing of herself... Amy had continued waiting. Long beyond the point where it had started seeming pointless, beyond the point where she had started doubting herself, she had continued waiting. Once the Doctor had touched her life, moving on just hadn't seemed like an option.

And Sander always knew just the right nerve to prod... Well, if he wanted to see what a professional could do, maybe this would shut him up...

When she craned her neck again, Amy connected with Sander's mouth far more forcefully than before. She heard a slight surprised sound escape him, as she pushed up, pushing him back, taking some small measure of control. Her hands swept up, took hold of his forearms to keep him right where he wanted him, giving her enough time to push her tongue into his mouth. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and allowed her to probe his mouth, making all the sexy little noises she had learned to make by rote in her unfortunate job. Her lips curved upward into a smug little smile; finally, she had rendered Sander Hackett speechless.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 21



Though she might have stopped him consciously, Sander's body was working from its usual place of pure id, primal desires driving him into her even as her kiss stopped his brain in its tracks. And as his body worked on autopilot, so did hers; with her senses already enflamed, it was all too easy for Amy to fall into the kind of enthusiasm she really didn't want to display with Sander Hackett...

She pulled away, turning her face to one side and hoping he couldn't see her blush. Had she gotten away in time? Had he caught on already? She couldn't see him, couldn't even gauge a reaction in the gloom, as he continued to thrust in and out of her ever more wet pussy. That is, until he stopped moving altogether, and she heard him breathe out heavily.

'That was interesting,' He whispered to her, breath caressing her ear from out of nowhere. She jumped; how had she missed him moving like that? He was so close!

'Someone got into that a little too much,' His tongue travelled the length of her throat- oh god, he'd moved again!- and Amy's breath caught in her throat. The wet, languorous lick sent a shiver down her body, rocking her right to her clit. He continued, 'I know you're enjoying this, Amy. After all, I'm familiar with your history...'

'And I'm sure that makes you feel better at times,' Amy tried her hardest to keep her voice steady, but he was inside her, and all around her, and she also had to keep her volume down to avoid attracting Mara's attention... She was sure she had at least stuttered, 'But I'd prefer it if we could do this without you whispering sweet nothings in my ear, Sander-Uh!'

Everything fell away, she felt her hips move automatically as Sander whipped his thumb across her clit again. She felt herself trembling, little aftershocks rocking her hips into Sander's waiting thrusts, legs splayed helplessly above her. 

'You're really too responsive to start denying now, Amy...' Sander said. 'It only takes a little attention to figure out all your tells and pressure points... And I've been paying more than a little attention. I bet I can make you beg again...'

'We'll see about that,' Amy had to physically stop herself from snapping, steeling herself for what came next even as her entire body seemed close to simmering. She almost melted when he pushed into her, holding himself inside her as his mouth covered hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. His kiss was a blistering, powerful thing that held for far too long, and when it finally broke it left her breathless and trembling. 

'Yes,' Sander murmured, still so close to her. 'We will.'

In the dark, Amy was left with nothing but her body- and whatever Sander happened to want to do with it- for company. There was nothing to concentrate on other than what he was doing to her, and nothing to diffuse the sheer intensity of the sensations he was producing. He fucked her in slow, deliberate motions, controlling her pleasure like it was some tidal thing, building and receding, only to build higher yet again. He left a finger on her clit the entire time, adding just the right level of pressure as he withdrew to make her buck her hips, pushing up right onto his waiting cock. In a shamefully short amount of time, her body was roiling with pleasure, arcing higher and higher with each calculated thrust.

'Seems like you're on the edge of moaning,' His voice taunted her from the darkness. 'Wouldn't want to do that. Might wake Mara up, and if she turns on the lights at some inopportune time, she might just see me make you cum...'

'You won't,' She answered back through gritted teeth. Even so, she couldn't help but let out a high, reedy little whimper as Sander responded by pressing down on her clit. For a single, dizzying moment, Amy felt as though she might actually cum through all this, but with merciless precision Sander withdrew all contact at the last possible moment, leaving her panting on the bed, climax receding from her grasp.

'Not without hearing you beg, I won't,' He said, pushing back into her, hard. The sudden feeling of fullness was a shock to her system; without her sight Amy found herself unable to prepare, and she cried out, far more loudly than she had originally intended. She caught herself moments later, as Sander clamped a hand over her mouth, and both sat in silent stillness, waiting to see if she had crossed that line and caused Mara to stir. 

'Shh!' Sander hissed at her, when the blonde failed to make an appearance. 'Wouldn't want this party spoiled. Although... Maybe I do. The more the merrier and all that. But all I need to hear is a please, Pond, if you want me to be convinced otherwise.'

If he had been tormenting her before, Sander now seemed to be trying to teach her just how good she had it to be merely tormented. His fingers pressed in with added, torturous pressure, flicking and pinching at Amy's clit in new variations and movements, stoking her internal fires to new heights before allowing them to fall, never dying completely. She found herself assailed in the dark, beset by sensation, a captive of the lusts Sander forced upon her. 

Every part of her conscious mind became devoted to suppression; as tight as she was wound, as unbearable as the pressure building inside her was, Amy clenched her jaw, her muscles clenching with it. But the longer she kept it up, the more she became convinced that she was doing it just to keep silent, that Sander simply wouldn't give up until she begged. He had done it before, kept her writhing and shamefully wet until she had given in, broken down and said exactly what he wanted her to say.

He knew exactly where to press... oh god...

Hadn't she done exactly as he had asked and slept naked for precisely this reason? Wouldn't it be easier to just submit? Didn't she... Didn't she need it? Sally had helped her through a similar situation...

But doing so would mean submitting to Sander. Although she couldn't actually see his smugness, and that was a bonus... She would still have to beg for him. She would still have to bear herself through his orgasm. Could she do that?

She would have to. Sander's mastery over her body was almost supernatural. Her clit throbbed under his touch, wetness leaking out over her thighs. She couldn't hold out, every stroke of his dick filled her with heat, flushed her skin red, boiled her nerves. She could hardly think, beyond the singular desire not to cry out. Not to give him even a single sound.

But then he pressed into her hard, overworked clit so insistently it almost hurt...

'Oh, please...' She panted, the word slipping out before she even knew what she was saying. Immediately, Sander froze, coming to a complete stop with only the tip of his cock within her. She had been so close, and he had stopped... How on earth could he keep doing that?

'What was that, Pond?' There was a terrible power in his voice, a surety that Amy could no longer deny. 'Oh, right... You probably don't want to get any louder, huh? Well, whisper it to me. Whimper sweetly into mine ear, and perhaps I shall grant your wish.'

She felt the heat of his face so close to her own, and for a moment her lips pursed, so determined was she not to give him the satisfaction. But it was the last, pathetic vestige of resistance, and it broke down the moment he started moving inside her again.

'Please,' She grumbled, the urge to turn her head aside almost overwhelming. 'Please let me cum.'

'There you go! Politeness gets rewarded, Pond,' He kissed her lightly on the lips, the gesture chaste and oddly humiliating in its familiarity. 'Hold on to something...'

During the entire exchange he had kept her teetering on the edge, the pad of his thumb stroking her clit with agonizing lightness, the end result of which was that she simply could not keep her voice steady as she bit the bullet and begged. Her frustrated pleasure had laced her Scottish tones, breath catching in her throat with every all too fleeting touch to her most private parts. 

And so when it came time to finally bring Amy over that edge, Sander was well equipped. He pushed into her, fucking her open and sensitive cunt with far more force than he had employed previously tonight, the sheer power behind the motion shocking her into orgasm. She trembled, back arching off the mattress, inadvertently pressing her breasts against his bare chest. Her entire body shook as ecstasy climbed her spine, shredded her nerves and sent her pussy into spasms around his still moving cock. Her jaw clenched tighter, tongue stilled in her mouth, desperate to avoid crying out her pleasure, signaling her climax to the sleeping Mara. To be this wrung out and overworked, and then to have to deal with this man's girlfriend...

She couldn't take it.

So she was forced to ride out her orgasm in the closest approximation of silence that she could muster. Her breathing became ragged and unsteady, and more than once she let out a low groan as she writhed. Distantly, she heard Sander laughing softly, before the sound was cut off as his body tensed, though Amy was too far gone to care why.

She came down to the sound of her heart, pounding in her chest. Blood flushed through her body, she felt hot, as though her flesh should be steaming. Her limbs tingled, her pleasure like sea foam on the waters of her body. Suddenly, she realized her toes were still curled.

Sander had slipped out of her; apparently Amy had been so absorbed in the ravages of her climax that she hadn't truly registered Sander's own orgasm filling her pulsing cunt. The bed shifted as he moved, situating himself further down the bed as Amy instinctively closed her legs.

'Someone enjoyed that...' He murmured. 'Someone who isn't me, I mean...'

'Keep telling yourself that,' Amy snapped back in hushed tones, perhaps a little bit too fast to be entirely natural. 'Is it comforting?'

'Why do you assume I was talking about you?' 

'Yeah, Amy. Why indeed?'

She had only just relaxed, but at the sound of the new voice, every muscle in Amy's body tensed just as tightly as during the midst of her shameful orgasm. She sat bolt upright in bed, eyes swinging to the door, as useless as that was. Light flooded the room moments later, and then two mad people were staring at her.

'Quite a show,' Mara nodded, leaning against the door frame. She was clad only in a t-shirt, the bare skin of her hips and... everything else, coming into view as she moved. Even in the middle of the night, sleep deprived and just having woken up, Mara projected the kind of nonchalant sexiness that most people had to really work for. She smirked as she continued; absently brushing a strand of hair out of her face, 'Well worth losing out on sleep for the midnight showing.'

'You know, you should tell me about any enhancements you've got that might affect our relationship, Mara,' Sander said flatly. 'How come I didn't know you could see in the dark?'

'Got it at the same time I got my hard contacts,' She shrugged, squeezing her eyes shut demonstratively. When they opened again, silver light shone in her pupils for a moment, 'I figure, why not? How is perfect night vision ever going to be a disadvantage? It certainly wasn't tonight. Amy's kinda hot when she's cumming, even with a lowered color spectrum.'

'Software solutions suck,' Sander grinned. 'I got my view in full color high definition. Which is how I could tell that Amy was enjoying herself.'

'Nope,' She said, shaking her head. 'I didn't...'

'Hush, Pond,' Sander stood up, to an appreciative whistle from Mara. He was naked, and in the light Amy could see the trail of his clothes across the floor. More importantly- and more visibly from Amy's perspective- was his cock, hard and bobbing as he moved, glistening in the results of their fucking. 

'You can shake that pretty little head all you want,' He continued, stepping closer to her and pushing her back down onto the bed with a single finger in the middle of her chest. His hand travelled across to tug playfully at her nipples, making her shiver, 'But I've got the evidence, right here. This is something you can see, and touch... and taste...'

His voice had grown soft and suggestive, and those fingers travelled from her nipples up her throat, to her cheek. The pressure he exerted was gentle, but firm enough in Amy's weakened state to shift her face around to eye his sticky erection. Behind him, Mara made a soft noise, and moved into the room to get a better view. 

She felt the bed shift as Mara sat herself down on the edge of it, and Amy knew exactly what was to come. She could have resisted, as Sander parted her lips with his thumb, gripping her chin and pulling her closer. But what would have been the point? Sander seemed to be unwilling to use her Command Collar for much lately, but even then, it was undeniable: he had made her cum. It wasn't like he would stop now; why should he?

She opened her mouth.

The sticky tip of Sander's cock touched her tongue, and Amy's nose wrinkled with distaste. The taste of her own arousal, and his, dripped onto her tongue, as his hardness slid further into her mouth. His hand was on her cheek, holding her in place, allowing Mara to watch her mouth being filled.

He stopped, when his cock was as far into her mouth as it could get without outright causing her to gag. For a moment he simply stood there, looking down at her, as she stared back, determined not to show weakness by looking away. It was tough, however, to look defiant with one's lips wrapped around a cock.

'Move your tongue,' He said, voice still hoarse and laden with desire, though his expression was far more focused. This was Sander delivering a lesson; he was determined not to get carried away with this, 'Lick. Taste yourself.'

Amy squirmed, her legs clamping together, still shamefully wet. How could she possibly be feeling like this now? How had the blooming, hot pressure of lust not left her? How could Sander be right, about this?

But as sickening as it was, she could hardly deny it now. She could literally taste the evidence, cloyingly salty sweet on her tongue, mixed with the taste of Sander's cum. This was... different. Confronting. Usually she could deny, keep it all to herself and attribute Sander's surety in his ability to get her off to simple brashness. After all, Sander had never failed to be confident almost to the point of arrogance in the past...

But this was real. It was right in front of her, and she could no longer simply deny it; Sander had fucked her, and she had gotten wet. She had had an orgasm. Her muscles had tensed, her body had shaken, and she had cum when he wanted her to. Desperate to end this, to be left alone, Amy's tongue swept around the underside of his cock, wiping away the evidence of her arousal.

'That's right...' Sander nodded, satisfied. 'It's kind of hard to deny you enjoyed yourself when you're licking the taste of yourself off of a dick, huh?'

She continued, lapping at his cock as he slowly thrust it in and out of her mouth, until he was satisfied, and removed himself entirely. Amy swallowed copiously as Sander stepped away, trying to wash the taste from her mouth. It lingered, much to her frustration, even as Sander bent down and, still gripping her cheeks with his fingers, pressed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth.

'That's right, it's still there,' He licked his lips as he pulled away, finally releasing her completely. 'I've got you figured out, Amy Pond...'

'Hey Hackett?' Mara broke in, her voice a sudden intrusion into what had only recently been a conflict between just the two of them. All at once, the tension shattered, 'You think you've got another round in you?'

'Yeah, I think so,' He nodded, glancing back at Amy. The redhead flushed a deeper color, fists clenching at the sheets. He reached out to her once more, but before he could make contact, Mara gripped him by the shoulder, spinning him around and almost firing her tongue down his throat. 

'Good,' She grinned, pressing her forehead against his. She blinked, throwing Amy a wicked look, 'Hey! You taste good tonight...'

She dragged him, naked as the day he was born, from the room, back toward their adjoining bedroom. His clothes remained on the floor, forgotten and, judging from the look in Mara's eyes, completely unnecessary. Before she slammed the door behind them, Sander stopped in the way, groping for the light switch.

'Sleep tight, Pond!' He said, chuckling as Mara attempted to wrestle him through the door. 'Big day tomorrow!'

***************

'Now, before I open these doors, are you sure we're in the right place?'

'Yes, I'm sure. Pretty sure. It's not my fault if I turn out to be wrong.'

'In what way would it not be your fault? You're driving.'

'No, she's driving. She always has been.'

Nat shook her head, bouncing over to the control column and essentially leaping over the controls themselves to embrace it.

'But the TARDIS is amazing!' She giggled, sliding down until her feet were planted on the upper rim of the controls. 'She wouldn't do anything to screw us over, surely!'

'Well, I'll just have to take that on faith,' Em sighed, taking a moment to check the exterior scanners anyway. Everything seemed clear, but the presence of a police box in this place would probably raise more questions than anywhere else. Everything that entered or left here was so strictly monitored...

'Wait, wouldn't you already know, Em?' Net's brow furrowed as, at the Doctor's frantic insistence, she clambered off of the console. 'I mean, you're-'

'Keep it to yourself, Natalie,' Sera cut in, placing a dispassionate hand on Nat's shoulder. In fact, it had seemed for a while now that she had been following the redhead around, just waiting for the time when she would need to act as Nat's censor. Over time, it had become something she just did automatically; Nat begins to say something time sensitive and potentially paradoxical, Sera shuts her up before it gets out of hand. 

In some ways, perhaps that just encouraged Nat to be lazy...

'Sorry, Sera,' She replied dutifully, pouting. 'I don't know why we're keeping things from the Doctor, but okay.'

'You're keeping things from me?' The Time Lord interjected, now a tad nervous.

'That's enough out of you,' Sera pointed. 'A little bit of foreknowledge is a dangerous thing. It's why we're operating to such a strict script. So yeah, we keep a few things close to our chests. History has to happen a certain way.'

'Anyway, we're here,' Em interrupted. 'In case anybody still remembers.'

'Selestene, huh?' Nat said, joining Em to peer out at the world beyond via the scanners.

'Sander Hackett's birthplace,' Sera nodded. 'We've got a lot of work to do, here. Who knows what will happen if we screw up?'

'Who indeed,' The Doctor frowned. Now that he knew for a fact that he didn't know the whole story, he found himself doubting everything the three girls and their robot had ever told him. Perhaps they were just using his TARDIS as an intergalactic taxi service...

'We don't screw up,' Em said, pointedly. 'We don't screw up, because we haven't screwed up. I don't see any Belgium sized holes in spacetime, do you? We succeeded, because we're still existing in a paradox-free universe. Easiest job in the world.'

'I take your point,' Sera nodded gravely, turning toward the doors. Beyond them, a whole new world awaited, 'Ladies, let's go greet the neighbors.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 22



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read that one first.

Hey fellows, here's the latest chapter... slightly faster than the last one! I'm working on it, I swear. Anyway, this one's a little rougher than the last few, so, y'know, warning there. And please, comment or vote if you see fit, I just love getting them, no matter if they're positive or negative. Just knowing you're reading is great. Anyway, enjoy!

Kurokami

******************

'Hey Sander, you know what I like about being on a populated world again?' Ren, ever the morning person, clicked her heels against the wooden cupboard doors of the counter she had perched herself atop. Sander himself, still recovering from his midnight dalliances with both Amy and Mara, seemed markedly less ebullient, ignoring the Half completely as he felt his way across the kitchen, squinting against the artificial sunlight and smoothing down his hair with one hand; his destination seemed to be the coffee machine, though the unsteady and wavering nature of his route to it made it hard to tell.

'It's getting to eat this shitty, sugar-loaded cereal!' She continued, when it became apparent that no response would be forthcoming. Demonstratively, she waved a bowl of milky cartoon faces the exact shape and color of diabetes under Sander's nose. Her grin stretched from ear to ear, in a slightly worrying parody of childish delight, and she rocked on her haunches, disheveled in the totally careless way only Ren could manage. Loudly, she sucked down a spoonful of the stuff.

'Mmm, what's that taste? That's the taste of heart disease!' She persisted, watching Sander work through his first cup of coffee and finally open his eyes fully. He regarded her with flat dispassion, still keeping himself to the shade, as if distrustful of the morning sun. It had been years since he had experienced the light of Selestene; all flat and uniform, filling up every inch of the room.

'Someone's disheveled today,' He said, finally. He had a point; aside from the chaotic bird's nest her hair had become, Ren was showing far more skin than her usual drive for a more masculine self would allow. Long, muscled legs extended from the bottom of a pair of temptingly short shorts, and her simple white singlet showed that, when not restricted in her binder, Ren could be quite a curvy girl. 

'I'm in my jammies,' Ren grinned back, still rocking from side to side. 'Besides, you're one to talk about being disheveled. You look like you woke up in a ditch, boss. Someone been keeping you up, then?'

The twitch of his lips provided more information than a simple answer ever could. Ren made an impressed noise, applauded, and leaned back completely into the light, resting her bowl on her bust. It was an odd feeling, being in the Selestene sunlight; the body was used to natural light being warm, but Selestene's light was electrically generated, and at this distance had no heat of its own. It was something one had to get used to.

'Yeah,' Sander said, a tad wistfully. 'Hey, why are you in my kitchen, anyway? Your suite has one of its own.'

'And eat through my own supply of sugar-frosted crap flakes? Hell no, Sander! Besides, I needed to ask you something,' At this, Ren hopped down from the counter, landing lightly on two bare feet, moving to refill her bowl. 'Are you doing anything with the girls today? Specifically the Lady Christina and the Church soldier? I feel like I owe 'em both a little something.'

'I don't even want to know,' He said, watching as Ren piled more and more of that candy colored stuff into her bowl. 'But no, I've got nothing planned. Take whoever you want, so long as you leave me, Mara and Amy out of it. We're going out.'

'Well, that sounds fun too, where're you going?' Though her head turned, her hands remained busy, piling the cereal high. 'Can I come?'

'I'd have invited you if I wanted you to come,' Sander said. 'You stick with your plans, and I'll stick with mine, thanks. Though I do wish you all the fun your twisted, inventive little brain can bring you with Christina and Lorna, Ren Syfte. Enjoy yourself.'

'Oh, I rather think I will,' Ren retrieved her bowl, and with it in hand ambled in the direction of the door. 'Right now, for instance, I'm going to wish Dulsie a good morning, and steal her little brunette noblewoman from her. If I'm lucky, I won't even spill my breakfast.'

Sander watched her bounce out the door, allowing himself a feeling of momentary concern for Christina and Lorna. He doubted Ren would pose too much of a threat to the girls; after all, she understood that they were valuable as bargaining chips should the worst come to pass. But he had seen her lose control before...

Well, the others would still be here. Dulcimer was such a stationary person, he could have faith that she at least would stick around. The Dullahan hadn't displayed any level of physical threat in the past, but Sander got the feeling that wasn't representative of what she could actually do. Hell, the Dullahan as a species were so secretive and isolated that they could be capable of practically anything.

Besides, whatever happened here was hardly his concern. Ren and the others were adults after all, and he had his own plans to deal with today...

By simply poking his head into the bedroom he could tell that Mara was awake; bathrooms didn't generally make this much noise without being occupied, after all, and right now Mara's habit of singing tunelessly in the shower was on full display. For a moment he experienced a great urge to join her, but he ignored it; Mara could- and generally did, in the morning- take care of herself. She had no need of him there, as... pleasant as it could be. And that just left Amy...

As quietly as he could, Sander slipped through the other door into the adjoining bedroom, unsurprised to find the redheaded captive still asleep. If he hadn't already had plans for today, Sander would have been tempted to remain in bed himself, after his midnight play session with the girl. 

Amy had shifted position during the night in such a way as to lower the sheets, leaving her chest and the majority of her abdomen exposed. A perverse grin spread across Sander's face; he had seen everything Amy had to offer more times than he cared to count, but there was something deceptively fresh and innocent, not to mention slightly voyeuristic, about seeing her like this that was highly enjoyable. 

She looked awfully peaceful, as though the pressures and concerns of her current situation couldn't touch her in sleep. Her chest rose and fell oh so appealingly with her breathing, rhythmic and deep. The sunlight may have been artificial, but it had never looked better, draped across her pert and pale flesh. 

And of course, it was just too tempting not to take advantage...

Sander leaned in, bending at the waist to bring himself close enough to Amy's chest to slide his tongue across the nearest pale pink nipple, bringing his lips around it to hold it in place. The tip of his tongue played across her warm, soft skin, teasing the sensitive nipple to full hardness. 

Still locked in the haze of sleep, it took Amy some time to fully comprehend what was happening. Initially she moaned, arching her back into the pleasurable sensation, a smile playing at her lips. Though she never indicated it outwardly, Sander got the feeling that her half asleep mind was imagining that it was Rory currently touching her; it certainly didn't take her long to dislodge him once she woke up fully.

Her eyes opened, and with an inarticulate, groggy cry she rolled to one side, sheets tangling around her legs as she scrabbled away, eventually tumbling off of the bed altogether. Amy landed on the floor in a disjointed pile of linen and skewed limbs, huffing to herself as her face finally peeked above the edge of the bed, glaring at a now upright and startlingly dignified Sander. The man gave a returning grin that wouldn't have looked out of place on Mara.

'I could keep going,' The way he said it made it seem as though he was reminding her of that fact. In some ways, Amy supposed that he was, 'But we have a trip to take. Get some clothes on... or don't, either is fine with me. Then come out and grab some food. We're going out.'

**********

'So...' Christina shifted in her seat, her upright bearing a marked contrast to the slouched and languid posture of her roommate. She gazed across at the alien with a sense of distrust; granted, the first set of aliens she had met had only started out hostile, but the memory of those metal-shod stingrays still stayed strong in her mind. 

And of course, given Dulcimer's association with her kidnappers, Christina had plenty of reason to distrust her.

'Yes?' Dulsie sent, the mere act of communication causing Christina to jump. She still wasn't used to the idea of telepathic communication yet, and was finding it quite frustrating to be surprised by things happening inside her own head, 'Feel free to be silent, I don't actually require chitchat to function, like you humans seem to.'

The noblewoman caught a strong suggestion of laughter, the fact that it was going off inside her brain vaguely disorienting. Since the one thing Christina had learned in her time with aliens was that they don't generally behave like caricatures from movies, she got the feeling that the Dullahan was joking.

'I have to know,' She said, pushing aside a plate containing what remained of breakfast. 'How do you... see? Or even hear what I'm saying?'

'I'm not a biologist,' It was strange, seeing shoulders shrug in the absence of a head. 'So the best I can say is a persistent field of telepathic awareness. It works better, apparently. I can even direct it, poke around inside your head, if I wanted to.'

'Well... excellent. You-' Christina had the good sense to stop talking immediately, as Ren's voice filtered through the door as an incoherent series of noises. The door opened suddenly, faster than the motors powering it would normally allow; Ren's fingers wedged against the door, forcing it open.

'Milady, you're required in the bedroom,' She said, through a mouthful of cereal. 'Attendance is not optional.'

Christina stood, but didn't move further than that. Apprehension and anger competed for dominance in her expression, as Ren rolled her eyes and stepped into the room, intent on dragging the noblewoman out if necessary. She took a defensive stance, but nothing was going to stop Ren, and Christina found herself taken by the collar and hefted bodily toward the door.

'Hey Dulsie, I'm borrowing your friend, okay?' Ren called over her shoulder. 'I'll try my best to bring her back in one piece but... y'know, no promises!'

'Oh, I think you can restrain yourself, Ren,' Dulsie sent, through the door as Ren closed it behind her. 'Though don't hesitate to ask if you want someone to spice things up in there. I could use the entertainment.'

'I won't!' The Half's shout came through loud and clear, causing Dulcimer to laugh again. The sound echoed through Ren and Christina's heads, as they progressed down the foyer hallway and into Ren's suite. From what Ren had seen, each of the suites was based around the same design, which given the expansive and generally opulent nature of the hotel, didn't seem too terrible. 

And it was a straight shot from the entrance to the bedroom...

Lorna was already seated on the bed, clearly unhappy simply being there, but unable to move; her Command Collar was working at full strength. She was naked, which to Christina's eyes lent a certain perverse tenor to the events taking place. Oddly- at least to Christina's twenty-first century mind- she hardly seemed concerned with her nudity itself. 

'Ah, gotta love that Gamma forest spirit!' Ren grinned, tossing Christina onto the bed beside Lorna with the kind of casual attitude that was entirely worrisome. Without giving the two any more than a second glance, Ren locked the door, and proceeded to rummage around in her baggage, deposited in the corner of her bedroom. 

'Now, I can't be sure where I put these things... Just hope they didn't end up in Kana's bags by mistake... Ah hah!' Ren whooped, holding aloft what seemed to be a bundle of straps and rubber. She spun around and advanced on the captives with evil, lascivious intent.

'Lorna, hit it,' She said, separating off a portion of the bundle and tossing it to the former soldier. Though she caught it deftly, Lorna could do little but stare at the definitely phallic design of the device, allowing the straps to hang low, as even Christina gave the thing a distrustful glare.

'Are these bio-feedback nodes?' Lorna asked, gesturing to a series of studs set into the straps of the false cock.

'Oh yeah,' Ren's grin grew wider, fonder. Even looking at the thing seemed to energize her, 'I love these things. Best invention ever, I swear. Go on, put it on. Don't make me order you.'

She stood there expectantly, mismatched eyes glittering with the promise of entertainment to come. If it had been anyone else, Lorna might have considered resisting; she had spent some time watching them, and though Sander himself and Mara, to a lesser extent, moved as though they'd had some combat training, only Ren matched Lorna in that regard. She stood a fairly good chance of beating the Collar around her neck, assuming she could catch them unaware and press that element of surprise to its fullest. But not with Ren. Not with the other soldier.

So she stood and, after a few missteps replete with impatient instructions from Ren, strapped her new rubber cock around her hips, the hefty bob of it as she moved actually drawing a blush to her cheeks. 

'Yeah... Yeah, that looks good,' Ren said, smugly. She stepped forward, fingers sliding around the rubber and depressing a raised spot near to the base. There was a brief whirr, as the strap on powered on, electricity flooding the nodes that were now running the length of Lorna's hips, including the large, heavy duty contact pad that rested snugly against the Gamma girl's pussy. 

When Ren next ran her hand up and down the shaft of the strap on, Lorna gasped with sudden sensation, and pulled away, tripping and stumbling back onto the bed. She had expected to feel the false appendage as though it were a part of her own body, that was the sole function of bio-feedback technology after all, but knowing it was coming and actually experiencing it were two very different things. 

'Now ain't that fun, Gamma girl?' Ren cooed, a second strap on dangling from her fingers. 'Oh right, the whole purity thing. Well, this other one is for the Lady, but she can play the entertainer for a little while before she starts sporting a hard on, I guess. Now then, ladies...'

Ren took a seat in a plush looking reclining chair set up opposite the bed, swinging one leg up and over the other, the milky contents of her breakfast bowl sloshing as she brought the spoon up to her mouth, crunching through a number of Technicolor cartoon treats. 

'Entertain me.'

Unbidden, Lorna kept her legs slightly open, enough that the shaft of her newfound appendage didn't scrape against the inside of her thighs and accidentally make her feel good. She, and Christina too, stared at Ren, unwilling to make a move that the Half might interpret as hostile or disobedient. Not to mention, they were unwilling to act just on their own; this situation was going downhill in a very real way.

'I don't really know what that means,' Christina said, voice dripping with willful, sickly sweet ignorance. 'I can juggle, you know. It's quite impressive.'

'Yeah, I bet you fuckin' can!' Ren laughed, leaning forward. 'But you can also put that smart little mouth to some actual use, too. I know you know how, woman of the world that you are. Kneel.'

Christina scowled, the expression a well worn trail for her refined features; she had been wearing it more and more these days. Ren's assured confidence grated, and if she had been in any other setting the noblewoman would have wasted no time in putting the languid, grinning fool in her place. But she had the upper hand, and worse still... Christina had no way of retrieving it.

She wasn't used to this feeling. Lady Christina de Souza had always, always had the ability to take power in the palm of her hand; even in those times where her position had been weakened, when she had been outgunned and on the run from whatever police force that had taken it upon themselves to chase her down, she could see the moves she would need to take in her head. She knew her escape routes, understood instinctively how to move, what to say, who to talk to, to become the apex predator in her own life again. It was the sort of outlook that leant itself to a career in theft, that obsessive but easily obtained drive to know what to do.

But now, she got down on her knees. She had nothing. Her mind, her physical prowess, her charm and upbringing and experience... nothing was going to save her from this. At least, not yet. If there was a light at the end of this tunnel, she simply could not see it. Perhaps the end had collapsed.

From her newly, gratingly submissive position, Christina raised her eyes to shoot Lorna a challenging look, as if to say: "don't even think about bringing this up later." From the look Lorna shot back, Christina knew that, luckily, this would not be an issue.

With nothing further to say, and with Ren growing steadily impatient with every second spent delaying, Christina leaned forward with a frown, and took the tip of Lorna's plastic cock into her mouth. In an instant, the Gamma girl's thighs had clamped tight around her head.

At once, Christina's eyes darted up, glaring at the brunette as she disengaged herself from Lorna's tensed over muscles. The soldier gave her an apologetic look, but couldn't quite rid herself of her dazed expression, nor the blush that had set up shop across the delicate rise of her cheeks. Her breath had sped up, she couldn't help it; the sensation had struck her with all the force of a hammer blow. One did not become accustomed to an entirely new appendage in the space of a few seconds; her reaction had been entirely automatic, though no less appreciated by Christina for that.

Christina's poisonous glare could only last a few seconds, what with Ren still waiting on the sidelines. The pair of captives got the idea that their oppressor was just waiting for an opportunity to leap in from the sidelines, and neither particularly wanted to risk that. Without wanting to draw out the ordeal any longer than it had already gone on, Christina sighed theatrically, and returned her mouth to the tip of the strap on. 

This time, Lorna made a conscious effort not to obstruct the noblewoman's task, but she couldn't help the shudder that wracked her body. Pleasure bolted along the artificial, perfectly receptive nerves of the false cock, juddering into her body far harder than anything that had yet happened to her own flesh. It was the product of cold, manufactured technology; a blowjob in high definition. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Lorna could feel, with perfect clarity, Christina's soft, warm lips travel down the shaft, a slick and subtle tongue gliding along the underside. The feeling was... unsettling. A phantom limb in reverse. Her legs trembled, toes curled against her will. The last few days had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was really rather sensitive to begin with, much to Lorna's chagrin; even her own experiences paled in comparison to what she was feeling now. 

Her eyes drifted up, away from Christina's kneeling and prostrate form, more out of professional courtesy, one hostage to another. Unfortunately, this led her gaze directly to Ren's; their eyes locked for a moment, the Half's lascivious grin bringing a blush to Lorna's cheeks. Rapidly, she found herself turning her head away, eyes falling on the deserted opposite corner. It was safer that way.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 22



Of course, her wishing to ignore the situation was no deterrent to Ren; she seemed to grow bored easily and, abandoning her seat to join the naked pair. Christina couldn't help but shiver as the Half's long fingers stroked up the bare skin of her back, to the nape of her neck; even the slight pressure exerted by the pads of her fingers told Christina of the amazing strength that Ren possessed. There was a control in the way she moved that the noblewoman recognized; the same kind of control it took to cut through a glass container without shattering it. 

'Come on, milady...' She purred, voice predatory and low, those hard eyes creeping in at the edge of Christina's vision as she pulled away, taking care to keep the strap on in her mouth. When Ren was this close, any modicum of disobedience could be dangerous, 'You can do better than that. You can do deeper than that... Pretty girl like you, from a rich family... You gotta keep yourself entertained somehow. Now, Lorna's barely shivering, you need to give her something to shake over.'

Perversely, some small part of Christina's mind took Ren's words as a challenge, and before she could catch herself she had dipped her neck down almost all the way, the rubber tip of Lorna's high tech cock grazing the back of her throat. All of a sudden she gagged, as the reality of what she had done finally touched her conscious mind, and she pulled away, coughing. 

Of course she had done that; she had never been able to resist a challenge, to the point where attempting to rise to one was almost reflexive. Ever since her father had piddled away the family fortune, and she had gone from being on top of the world to being just a rich girl without the rich, when everyone around her had thought her useless... well, she might have had nothing else, but a de Souza always had her pride. And that pride had, in time, given her the abilities to rise to any challenge...

Above her, Lorna's breathing was heavy and labored, her cheeks a deep red. That virulent, deep blush crept down the pale skin of her chest, heavy breasts swaying with each deep, steady breath. It was clear she was trying to hide her pleasure, keep her body from overrunning her senses, but there was no fighting the technology currently working on her nerves. Below her, Christina could see the Gamma girl's toes curling; there was no getting away from this. For all intents and purposes, the former Lady de Souza was now on her knees, sucking the cock of some anonymous soldier girl. 

She could only hope that thing wasn't entirely anatomically correct, especially not when it came...

'No no, Chrissy baby...' Ren shook her head, voice set in an almost silken purr. 'I would have thought a high class woman like you would know a thing or two about pleasing someone. I mean, I know you got all broke and criminal, Sander made sure we did our research... but at some point you must have had the opportunity to practice some improper etiquette...'

Christina had been trying to focus her attentions in front of her; at least the strap on didn't judge or taunt her, if she really got steamed, she could use her teeth on the strap on. So she was unprepared when Ren's fingers wrapped tight through her hair, grip inexorable, compelling her downward. Her head dipped, mouth filled with more and more rubber dick until it hit the back of her throat once more, her chest heaving as she gagged. 

The Half was far stronger than Christina, and though the brunette struggled, arms striking out at awkward angles, Ren weathered her glancing blows stoically. She appeared to enjoy Christina's coughing and struggling greatly, her muffled and desperate choking undercut by Ren's amused giggling. Seconds ticked by, and without the ability to breathe Christina began to panic; it wasn't a huge stretch to imagine that Ren might suffocate her like this.

'You're beginning to bore me,' Ren sighed, as she allowed Christina free finally, watching intently as her naked chest rose and fell with each deep breath. 'Which is something I'd never thought I'd say about watching someone... anyone suck dick. And if you bore me, you stop being the doer, and you start getting done unto. Let's see if the soldier knows how to give a better showing. After all, I am a superior officer...'

Those mismatched eyes swung upward, and Lorna had seen enough of Ren to know better than to allow herself to flinch away. The Half would take that as a sign of weakness, and more than that, she would make sure Lorna paid for showing it. Those eyes were expectant, but with pleasure still washing through her hips like sea foam following a wave, the Gamma girl simply couldn't think of what she was waiting for. After a moment of heavy silence in which, naked and strapped up to a sex toy, Lorna was quite unwilling to fill, Ren stood.

'Can I get a salute, private?' Ren glowered down at Lorna, fingers tapping an incessant rhythm on the opposite wrist. 'I figure that's a position you're comfortable with, soldier girl. Unless you don't want to, and then I start defaulting to positions I'm comfortable with. Now: Attention, private Bucket!'

The muscles in her legs twitched, her body reacting to the kind of commanding tone Ren had apparently perfected in her own military career. There was a harmonic to it, a special sound that all superior officers seemed to have; every instinct she had told her to salute. She still had to do it, of course, but luckily she caught herself before she leapt to attention too enthusiastically. When she rose to her feet, she did it with visible reluctance and irritation, all the time aware of the heft bob and sway of the false cock strapped between her legs. 

She glared at Ren, full in the eyes, as she saluted, taking care never to look away. Generally the rule was to stare straight ahead... but this wasn't the Church. This was far from sacred, or ordained. And as much as Ren seemed to enjoy using her past to taunt her, Lorna wasn't about to give the Half the satisfaction of knowing she was getting to her. For whatever reason, this resistance only seemed to amuse Ren further.

'Ooh, I like that look...' She growled, stepping right into Lorna's personal space; the soldier knew better than to so much as break her salute, let alone step away. Still, she stiffened from her toes to her shoulders when she felt Ren's fingers slide around the shaft of her strap on, 'That look's always been a hell of a lot of fun to watch vanish...'

Ren didn't even have to look down; as she pumped her fingers up and down the rubber shaft, she knew exactly where to press, where to touch and where to hold it. This was her strap on, a part of her personal collection. Something she had brought with her from Uo; it was the cure to her occasional gender disconnect, it... made her feel better, more normal. As seemingly odd as that was to say.

And with time, she had come to understand the intricacies of the mechanisms; precisely where each of the artificial nerves lay, beneath the rubber sheathe. With practiced ease her fingers added just the right amount of pressure at all the right spots, each circuit of the stiff rubber in her hand causing Lorna to stiffen further, muscles tightening, skin flushing red. Ren's eyes stayed locked on Lorna's, watching her try to suppress the pleasure flooding her body. Of course, it was a meaningless struggle; as expensive as it had been, Ren had only been able to afford a bio-feedback strap on with limited sensations included. 

In particular, this one could only interpret pleasure, not pain. Oh, there were certain specialist models for those of a more masochistic persuasion, and in an ideal universe Ren would have been able to afford one of those too, but she had worked with the resources at her disposal, and as a result she had a cock that could only respond with shuddering, moaning, happy good feelings. It wasn't exactly a terrible trade off.

The point was, what Lorna was feeling was inescapable; the technology had been designed to make the body quake and orgasm, and Ren knew from experience that it was very, very effective at that. She had had plenty of time with the thing, time enough to experiment, and figure out exactly what could be done to further enhance the experience; the fingers of her free hand encircled Lorna's nipple in service of that end. Finally, it was enough to make the Gamma native's resolve crack, and a shudder arced down her back, hard enough for Ren to feel.

She even gasped; Lorna had suspected ever since her first fight with Ren in the hallways of Trismestigius, but now she knew for sure that the Half's skin felt vastly different from the usual human variety. The silken, deeply sensual feel of Ren's flesh was a true shock, compared to the hardness she usually exhibited. Usually she could judge based on sight, guess what a Sontaran might feel like to the touch, or a Silurian's scales, but outwardly Ren looked human; her touch was almost like a superpower. Again, she trembled.

'Yeah, I thought that might make an impact,' Ren gave her a wink, fingers stroking and teasing, like silk with a pulse, making Lorna's pale pink nipple swell and harden under her touch. The contrast, between sensation delivered through her own nerves and pleasure delivered artificially was shocking, competing signals fogging her mind. She couldn't even pray...

She didn't trust herself to open her mouth and not moan...

'That's right, look at you. Good soldier, standing to attention even when you're about to get off, that's dedication,' Ren nodded approvingly, eyes trailing down the curvy, naked body before her. 'I bet you're wet as hell right now...'

There was a combination of artificial nerves along the shaft of the strap on, Ren had learned one fateful afternoon, that seemed to bypass all the receivers and limiters designed to keep things from becoming too real; removing those barriers had been quite a shock to her system. She shifted her grip, thumb pressing down onto the shaft as her fingers lined up with those specific pressure points, and made it quite a shock to Lorna's, too. Finally, she got the reaction she had been waiting for; the gasp from the brunette, her legs shaking, muscles tightening... and a telltale wetness between her legs.

'And here I thought I was supposed to be watching, here,' With a short hop, Ren was out of reach, the absence of her touch leaving Lorna feeling shamefully unsatisfied; merely a weakness of the body, she told herself. Nothing to do with what happens in her mind.

Wordlessly, using only gestures and sharp glares, the Half directed Christina up off her knees and toward the bed, draping her bodily over the sheets so her ass was on full display, pale skin almost luminous in the morning light. With a grin, and working almost like a puppeteer, she grasped Lorna by the hips and moved her too, placing her behind the prostrate noblewoman, the tip of her strap on prodding gently between her legs. Lorna looked to Ren uncomfortably, her proximity to the bent over brunette giving her unfortunate visions of their future.

'Now, soldier... I know you've been awful prim and proper in your life, but I know Sander's paid you a conjugal visit at least once, so you do know where this is going,' Ren said, low and soft in Lorna's ear. 'And I want you to do it rough. You're a soldier, you know how to punch things... just apply that logic to your hips...'

The slap that followed came out of nowhere, impacting with the soft, rounded flesh of Lorna's ass hard enough to make her jerk her hips forward, just to escape the pain of it. In a more convenient world, one that worked according to Ren's whims exclusively, the end result of this would have been the abrupt and total filling of Christina's open and vulnerable pussy with sensitized, artificial cock. 

But since the universe wasn't built around what Ren found interesting, the sum total of her actions was a sudden yelp from Christina, as the misaimed strap on slapped against her upturned cunt, shaft hitting against her lips and clit, sending dissonant shivers of pain and, sickly, pleasure, sweeping up her hips. Desperate to hide it, even from herself, Christina looked over her shoulder, aware that breaking her position would be ill advised. Still, that didn't stop her from glaring at Lorna, deliberately avoiding looking to Ren.

'Oh, sorry Christina!' Lorna jumped back a few paces, bare feet slipping along the thick, plush carpet. She shot the noblewoman an apologetic look, though it only seemed to intensify Christina's irritation. The conversation was stifled before it had even really begun, as Ren tapped Lorna on the shoulder.

'You know, you keep making me wait, I'mma keep spanking you,' The Half grinned. 'I paid for a show, Gamma girl.'

Demonstratively, and with no small measure of lascivious joy, Ren's hand came down again, providing some loud, open palmed encouragement for Lorna to step forward and do the job she had been assigned properly this time. Below her, Christina gritted her teeth, grunting in a low voice as the folds of her cunt split around the thick rubber cock; Lorna's voice quickly joined hers, the solider gasping at the newfound feeling of being inside another woman.

'Think of it like exercise, if you really want to,' Another spank from Ren caused Lorna to reluctantly start moving, breath catching in her throat as she fucked the brunette currently bent over the bed. 'We both know us military types get a lot of that. And, well, we're expected to go hard and fast, there...'

As Lorna began to move, her prostrate partner turned her head, avoiding the soldier's apologetic looks entirely; she severed any kind of personal connection they might have had, any hope at shared suffering. Now isolated with the awkward truth of the situation, Lorna instead opted to focus on herself, moving slowly at first, to avoid stoking too brightly the building pleasure arcing through the shaft of the rubber cock she bore. It was harder than it seemed; every sensation, every clench of Christina's muscles, or drip of her juices down the shaft of the strap on was intensified, transmitted into Lorna with incredible fidelity. Though she tried to keep her breathing steady, Lorna found herself gasping, as Christina squirmed beneath her. She wondered if this was anything like what Sander had felt, the first time he had entered her.

Of course, even this was before Ren decided to participate...

It seemed that the pace Lorna had set up, while kinder for Christina, was not what their captor desired; without a word, she laid a heavy handed slap to the Gamma girl's pale ass, the blow strong enough to force the strap on into Christina to the hilt. Both captives cried out at the sudden sensation. The message was clear, and though unwilling, Lorna sped up her pace, just as Ren wanted. Christina grunted and gasped, her well toned body still no match for the kinds of forces Lorna's combat ready frame could produce; she found herself bouncing on the rubber cock with every thrust.

Christina closed her eyes as Ren opted to seat herself on the edge of her bed, right in the noblewoman's field of vision. This close, Christina could see in marked detail the scars arcing across her bare lower back, where her loose fitting shirt had hiked up and the careless woman had neglected to shift it back into place. Not wanting to acknowledge the presence of the Half, Christina opted to keep her eyes tightly shut, locking out everything that was happening to her, even as Lorna pounded her from behind.

Unbidden, she felt the frustration rise, teeth clenching as her legs shook with yet another deep, rough thrust. Ren had given the girl a task, of course... but did she have to be so rough about it?

She could hear the sounds of Lorna's labors becoming more heated, panting replacing the simple grunts that had characterized her initial thrusts. Whether the Gamma girl understood it or not, she was slipping deeper, staying longer each time. It must be so easy for her to lose herself to pleasure, given how much control she had. Christina wondered; exactly how much was Lorna enjoying herself at her expense?

Distantly, she could feel Lorna's muscles tighten, those thrusts speeding up further, only now without Ren's encouraging slaps, filling her again and again. Perhaps Ren's mere presence was enough of a compulsion to force the soldier's cooperation, but that was hardly the point; there was such a thing as restraint, as working with your common victim. But Lorna's thrusts were too rough, inexpert and punishingly deep, her body lost to the abandon of lust. And as she did, Christina got angrier.

Angry at Ren, for putting them both in this situation to begin with. Angry at Lorna, for causing her such discomfort... Angry at herself, for responding so readily...

The first time she moaned against her will, she heard Ren laugh beside her, a smug little giggle at her humiliation, and primed herself to suppress her audible pleasure in future, her hands balling into fists at her body's frustrating readiness to feel the pleasure in the first place. 

But all her resoluteness came to naught; the next particularly deep, strangely angled stroke of Lorna's cock inside her tore another ragged, irritated moan from her throat, body spasming on the bed. She wanted so desperately to leap up from the bed, push Lorna away and head for the door... perhaps after taking a few violent shots at Ren beforehand. But she knew she would never get away, she knew that was just her baser instincts, her fear demanding that she flee; she had trained herself better than that. 

Christina concentrated on her breathing, drawing in long, deep inhalations against the shuddering thrusts from behind, attempting to wrench her mind forcefully away from the blooming, hot pleasure spreading through her hips, attempting to climb her spine and bring her to dreaded climax. 

It was going to happen, it was going to happen, Ren would be happy to watch until it did...

The sheer helplessness of her situation hit Christina all at once; though she wore no chains, she wasn't tied down, she had no will of her own here, or at least none that was worth anything. Even the Collar around her neck was unnecessary, when placed in the same room as an oppressor like Ren; again she was under the power of another... after years of avoiding capture by countless law enforcement agencies all over the world, she had ended up caught and caged, by a single person, who hadn't even been trying.

And with her helplessness came her orgasm, washing over her in shameful, powerful waves, rippling up her body and leaving her muscles tense and trembling in their wake. Her mouth opened in a formless, low and purring cry, pleasure burning out all thought in her mind, but the searing ecstasy and the ache of her muscles, clenching through the storm of climax. Behind her, she was dimly aware that Lorna had become still, providing a backing track of her own low, desperately quiet moans as she herself came, orgasm trailing Christina's. 

'Look at you,' Ren's fingers pressed into Christina's hair, the sudden contact causing her to open her eyes, orgasm still pushing through her. The Half had moved in close, that alien red eye of hers sticking in the noblewoman's vision, cool and calculated even as her own body seemed to be melting down, 'You act all aloof, but you go off like a fuckin' rocket. You cumming there, Chrissie baby? I thought you weren't a fan of this! I'm actually starting to like you more... You know, Sander keeps bitching about our two new arrivals, how things are growing too fast... he'll probably let me keep you for myself, if I ask. Yeah, that sounds good...'

Though her eyes widened and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, Christina was hardly in a fit state to articulate the cold dread this suggestion produced in her. She was forced to weather her orgasm, shaking, moaning through it, as Lorna shared in the shameful pleasure, forced through her via the false cock she wore. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 22



Apparently no longer interested in the show that she herself had ordered into being, Ren lifted herself up off of the bed with a light hum in her voice. Skirting the edge of the room, she retrieved her bowl from its resting place on the floor, sighing theatrically.

'Now, see, you two distracted me, and now this shit is all soggy,' She shook her head, stirring the contents with a cartoon parody of dejection on her features. 'I need to hook myself back up with more of this shit, maybe find out where Sander's going. You two enjoy yourselves, I shall be back!'

As the door slid closed behind her, the two captives spent a moment that seemed to stretch on forever continuing to tremble in their shame and ecstasy, bodies tight and connected, Christina's dripping, throbbing cunt filled with rubber cock. As her orgasm faded away, leaving lingering traceries of heat travelling through her veins, Lorna was allowed to return to the real world, cognitive faculties returning, enough to pull herself away from Christina, panting heavily. Step by step, she seemed to retreat from the noblewoman, strap on glistening in the unmistakable evidence of her arousal. More silence followed, before she thought to speak.

'Are you alright, Christina?' She tried not to stammer, fingers working at the straps of the rig around her hips. 'I didn't hurt you, did I?'

But Christina didn't answer, her body not limp but relaxed upon the bed, chest rising and falling with each deep, concentrated breath. Slowly, deliberately, she turned herself over, onto her back, showing off the deep red blush that extended across her face and down her chest, reaching the slopes of her breasts. There was fear in her, the potentially incredibly harmful implications of Ren's threats of ownership tugging at her mind, wanting so much to pull her away and force her to dwell on her fear. But she would not; fear was not the domain of the de Souzas. Lady Christina de Souza did not fear. She rose above.

Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, the pristine white plaster stretching from one corner of her vision to the opposite. She knew Lorna was talking to her, and it would have been a matter of simple courtesy to respond, to let her know that she was, in fact, alright. That her fear was temporary, a momentary discomfort. But, in her mind, there was room for only one thought. One thing, one word, looming in her mind.

Escape...

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 23



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi everyone, here's the latest chapter. Hopefully you all enjoy it, and if you do (or don't, I'm not picky!) then please let me know. I live for feedback, guys and girls! Enjoy!

Kurokami

******************

'So, where are you taking us, Sander?' Mara leaned into her boyfriend, trying to shoot him a bit of warmth to dispel the once habitual gloom that had descended over him. He stared out the window of the shuttlecraft as it swept through the closed-in airspace of Selestene, his surgically enhanced eyes filling in the trappings of a modern consumer culture over the blank building faces; a thousand billboards superimposed over the desolation. He looked awfully pensive...

She hadn't seen that expression since... Well, since Nirvana.

She caught the unmistakable drift of his eyes over Amy's wary form, seated opposite the pair, pitched forward to catch as much of the city below as she could from the interior of the shuttle. It was easy to forget, given her current situation, that if Amy was anything, she was a consummate explorer of the universe. A companion, a TARDIS traveler; alien cityscapes were her bread and butter. 

Still, the way Sander's eyes locked on hers before heading to Mara troubled the blonde; was the old fixation returning? 

It had been easy for her to forget how he had once been, once she had extracted him from their old home on that desolate asteroid; just how sick he had been, trapped in what amounted to a dungeon, with his plotting and his desperate, pathological need for revenge the only things keeping him going. Moving him, giving him friends and a goal to work toward had done wonders for the last scion of the Hackett family; he had evened out, shrugged off the shackles of vengeance. The Doctor no longer dominated every waking moment he had, which had come as something of a relief to Mara; the glimmers of humanity that had only occasionally shown through the shell Sander had become following the death of his wife had blossomed, become the rule, rather than the exception. She had watched her boyfriend become human, day by day.

This was why it unnerved her to see that look back in his eyes, as though it had never left; the melancholy with which he viewed the world, and that mix of vengeful glee and strained near-hatred that he beamed out to Amy. It spoke of the old Sander, the mad man with a plan and the know how to deal some serious damage. 

Mara wondered which Sander had decided to take them out on the town today.

'Someplace that I would never take anyone else to see,' He mumbled, returning his gaze to the window. Somehow, this didn't alleviate Mara's anxiety. A brief glance at Amy told her that the redhead felt essentially the same way. When Mara opted to send the other girl a small smile, Amy blinked, before returning it tentatively, quickly looking away.

It was odd to feel a sense of camaraderie with the captive girl, especially given the animosity that had characterized their previous interactions. But Mara was beginning to feel adrift here; normally Sander was a great source of comfort, and without that she was forced to look elsewhere. At least Amy was familiar and besides, it wasn't as if either of them knew the city that well. This high up, it was all buildings and fake advertisements plastered across their sclera anyway. 

Of course, even from this height, Mara could tell the shift from business to residential districts when she saw it. The buildings became shorter, yet more horizontally expansive, spaced further apart and ringed by distinctive border fences. These were the homes of the upper class within a city built for the upper classes; immaculate, painfully symmetrical things that made her ache to land and just... mess them up a little.

Even if just to watch the army of maintenance robots she was sure each and every home below had scuttle out to fix the damage.

The shuttle dipped, keeping it in line with the predetermined flight path Sander had laid in before departing; this was one of the newer, pilotless models of transport. In the past, Sander had expressed a marked dislike for the A.I driven craft- after all, if the onboard computers failed, what kept them from simply falling out of the air?- but apparently his time with Jericho had softened him on the idea somewhat. 

She felt herself shift forward a bit, with the firing of the braking jets, pushing the shuttle from horizontal flight into descent. Below them was a landing pad, overlooking an expansive, near to palatial home that, once they had landed, would tower over them. As the shuttle descended past floor after floor, Mara began to wonder exactly who would live in such a place; the thing was essentially one step away from being an apartment building. 

But there was an air of... neglect, about the place too; the gardens seemed just slightly overgrown, the landing lights on the pad below them needed to be replaced in several places, and there was no sign of the ever present, friendly identification programs asking them who they were. Sander didn't seem terribly perturbed by this, but Mara knew already that something was up.

'Give me a minute,' Sander said absently, rising from his seat to make his way through to the cockpit panel, speaking in hushed tones into the microphone placed there specifically to communicate with air traffic control. Moments later, the grounds below them came to life, the access gangway down to ground level sliding out and attaching to the ship, as a sudden voice announced that their presence here had been recognized, and they were cleared for entry. Sander sighed to himself, before wordlessly opening the door and extending his hand to help Mara down. 

'Come on, Hackett, where are we?' She asked, giving him a persistent, "I'm not letting this go," look as he aided her descent down onto the floor, before offering to do the same with Amy. He grinned through clenched teeth when she opted to ignore him, avoiding his touch as she exited the shuttle herself. Always so independent...

'Well...' He began, trailing off into an awkward and confused silence, expression shifting to one of deep thought. He approached the sentence from several angles, trying to come up with some way to phrase it that would... work. That wouldn't seem harmful to him, that the jagged edges of his memories wouldn't hurt too much when he said it. None was forthcoming; this place was nothing but pain to him now. If he hadn't had to come back, he would never have set foot here again. Hell, if it had been up to him he would have seen the place demolished years ago... though it had turned out fortunate that his father's will had forced him to leave the old place standing. Lucky, lucky, fucking lucky...

'This is Hackett House,' He said finally, wincing a little as he said it. Too many goddamn memories in this place, things he could never get back, no matter how hard he tried. And... things he could never escape.

'This is where I grew up.'

**************

'You know, I'm beginning to feel like we don't have much of a handle on the concept of a holiday.'

Lysithea felt the gaze of the Dullahan pass over her; being more than a little psychic herself, she felt the sensation more acutely than most. Strictly speaking, given enough time she was sure she could tap into Dulcimer's own neural network and spend the rest of their time cohabiting communicating with her solely through telepathy, but that entire idea made her feel a little uneasy; she kept herself mainly disconnected from the Trine-form's Chorus for a reason, after all. Sitting inside someone else's mind... well, she'd grown like that, only on a civilization wide scale, dropped into the hive mind of her entire species from the earliest point in her life cycle.

That kind of collective thought process... had some downsides. And she had been disconnected from it for so long that the voices ran together, became indistinct; not a Chorus, but a Cacophony. She had to concentrate just to pick them out, one by one. Given a little more time, she wondered whether she would even be able to hear them individually at all, or just perceive the whole. One great, raised voice, a torrent of thought, the grand collective of her entire species, screaming in her head... and completely untranslatable. 

Well, in that case, she supposed she would have to simply disconnect for good. Lysithea the free agent...

'Why, whatever do you mean?' Dulcimer's telepathic voice broke her from her ruminations, and Lysithea felt herself smile awkwardly, embarrassed to have been caught thinking about that. After all, telepathy was all the Dullahan had...

'I mean that here we are, on a whole new planet, the cradle of human culture... and we opt to spend the day in the hotel room,' She said, crossing one long, pale leg over the other. 'Tsugi even worked up the courage to take Kanaria out, and we just lay around like this? It seems like a wasted opportunity to me.'

'Perhaps,' Dulcimer sent, throwing a casual gesture over her shoulder to the corner of the room, where Lorna and Sally pored over a datapad together, the Gamma girl acting as operator of the device, which Sally would have no hope of using correctly. Its functions had been locked down; though the two aliens had no problem with the girls using it, it wouldn't do to have them be able to contact the outside world through it. Hence, it operated on a closed loop; programs could be accessed from it, but nothing could be sent out through it. Still, it put them at ease, and was preferable to having the captives watch the two of them warily from the background all day.

'Yes, I know we've been told to keep an eye on them, but there's no reason they couldn't go out with us,' Lysithea persisted. 'They have their Command Collars, and I'm led to believe those are properly legal here. Why not go out and see a bit of the city? We're in an Arcology, Dulsie. I've never seen a city with a roof before.'

'Where would we go?'

'The world is our oyster, as they say,' She smiled, giving the Dullahan a wink. 'Besides, this is a pleasure city, and believe me, I know my way around those.'

'Ah yes, you worked in a telepathic brothel, I remember. Very horizon expanding, I presume?' There was a wry tone in Dulsie's message, it was easy to see she was interested. 'New experiences are good, after all...'

'So come out with me!' The Trine-form said, going in for the kill. 'I'm sure I could find another one with ease. This is a human centric world after all, I doubt there would be much consideration for psychic shielding around here... imagine the kinds of things we could find wafting out of those buildings...'

Without warning, Dulcimer stood, going from stationary to upright in an instant. 

'Alright, you have me convinced. Let us take in the town, Lysithea.'

****************

'You taking me home to meet your parents, Hackett?' Mara grinned, hoping her joke would elevate her boyfriend's mood... before freezing in place. It had just come out, she hadn't thought about it, it had been the natural joke given he had taken her to his childhood home. She swore to herself she hadn't meant to dredge that up; there were no parents in this place, there were no Hacketts in this place. Stupid. Suddenly, the empty nature of the house and its surrounds made a lot more sense.

'Something like that,' There was a tightness to Sander's expression that hadn't been there before; part pain at the old memories she had undoubtedly just thrown into his head, and part cringe at the insane faux-pas she had just committed. 'After all, you two are the only people who actually know all there is to know about... well, the past. I wouldn't exactly want to bring the others here and have to explain.'

He spoke with a deliberate, significant emphasis that was clearly designed to admonish Mara for her slip up. It was a good sign, oddly enough; Mara knew that if what she had said had really bothered him, he would have let it go unnoticed. Kept it to himself, like the closed off old sod he became whenever he was confronted with the particularly difficult elements of his past. She could smile and go to him without fear of being pushed aside.

'But, since you ask, I guess I could take you on the tour,' He sighed, seeming quite put upon. Mara supposed she was meant to be his emotional support for this belated homecoming, but... what did that make Amy? Was she just here because she knew the whole story? Or, more likely, was she here so that Sander could impart another one of his Doctor lessons?

Frankly, she didn't know whether she wanted to listen to another one of those...

'Although creepy abandoned buildings and the Doctor's companions historically don't add up to anything particularly happy,' He said, after a pause. 'But then, it's never been a creepy abandoned building in the future, now has it?'

'Spoilers,' Mara prodded him. 'Or just mean, I don't know.'

'Probably both,' He said grimly. 'Come along then. We've got business to attend to.'

Mara attached herself to Sander a tad self consciously as he strode toward the building. There was a somber expression on his face that, if nothing else, told her loud and clear that he needed her support, even if he didn't have the heart to outright ask her for it. So she gave it willingly; to deny him that would have been... wrong. Unspoken things had characterized the first eleven years of their relationship, and it was only once they had mustered up the wherewithal to actually talk to each other that things had begun to progress. Mara had promised herself never to let him go silent again.

Amy, on the other hand, was less immediately willing to follow her kidnapper into the lion's den. She stayed behind, leaning against the hull of the ship, weight shifting nervously from foot to foot. When Sander turned, she bore up under his glare with a raised chin and a defiant look in her eyes.

'Look Amy, I could just whisper that special little word and order you to follow me, but I'm really not in the mood today, okay?' He growled, taking a step back toward the ship. 'So just follow me, yeah? Because I am not leaving you alone out here.'

'Like you said, I don't do well with abandoned buildings,' Amy replied, rooted to the spot. 'There's usually something bad in them, and if I follow you into that one there will definitely be something bad in there. Two bad things,' At that, she shot a sharp glance at Mara, who couldn't help but smile back. How cute...

'You're right, there will be something bad in there, something that could make your life real hard, not only while you're inside, but in the foreseeable future too,' Sander said. 'So I guess the question becomes, do you really want to be the woman who irritates that bad thing before you even enter the building? Besides which, d'you think I brought you all the way out here to my family home just to... what, screw with you?'

This caused Amy to pause; the question was a valid one, but she was still actively trying to decipher why he would bring her out here at all. What possible reason could he have? Sander wasn't the kind of man who would do something for nothing; there had to be some plan behind this, an angle he had, and it made Amy nervous that she didn't know what it was. She knew he wouldn't outright hurt her, but other than that...

'Then why did you bring me?' She said finally, her vulnerable position coloring her voice. 

'Because there's things you need to see,' Sander sighed. 'Just come on, Pond. Don't make me use your Collar.'

'Ugh, fine, okay!' She relented, sneakers tapping against the cool metal of the landing pad. It was an odd, slightly distressing fact to have to confront, but Amy was still getting used to the feeling of wearing shoes. She had been barefoot around Trismestigius for days, even when she had been allowed to wear clothes at all... she had become accustomed to is, as dissatisfying as that was. The worst part was, this was actually a step up...

With a tightness in his posture that seemed to actively discourage further conversation, Sander led the girls along the- by now- slightly grubby path, toward the looming silhouette of the house. His eyes remained level on it, never deviating from the door; Amy suddenly understood just how unpleasant this was to him. She resolved herself to be careful here; one wrong move or misplaced word could trigger that old rage in him, the kind of thing he could easily take out on her. She still remembered: there had been a time when she was his favorite punching bag for that kind of thing. An effigy of the Doctor.

'Okay, let's see how easy the old man's gonna make this for me...' Sander murmured, more to himself than anyone else, placing his hand against a contact pad beside the undoubtedly expensive door; at odds with the more technologically advanced house that surrounded it, the front door itself was simple wood, albeit finely carved and polished. It struck Amy as a vaguely amusing anachronism, especially as Sander's efforts at the scanner were rebuffed with a red light and series of warning tones.

'Not working?' Mara asked.

'Well, the place has been abandoned for sixteen years at least, it's a miracle there's still power,' Sander settled himself into a crouch, running his fingers along the seam that connected the device to the wall. 'Besides, there's a couple backdoors into the system. Cohen set them up for sneaking in and out of the place when things got too... heated. Made of much firmer stuff... Ah ha!'

With an unpleasant metal creak, the casing came away from the wall, revealing the intricate innards of the device. Sander slid aside the lower panel, leaving the rest of the case to hang unsupported against the machinery itself, as he delved into the mechanisms beyond, groping blindly until he hit out at the correct section, connecting two wires that had never touched before. Simultaneously, a section of the roof above them split open, revealing an aperture that spewed a deep orange light into the air, coalescing into a ball of floating cogwheels, like someone had torn out a series of components from an analogue clock. Each segment slid and wheeled around the others in an intricate and seamless pattern.

'System active, restoring from backup memory. System inactivity logged at: Eighteen years, one hundred thirty nine days. Inactivity has reached abandonment threshold, activating security protocols: non lethal holding apparatus.'

'Program, instruction: run voice print identification for Alexander Evan Hackett,' Sander cut off the orb of tessellating clockwork before it could continue along that rather distressing train of thought. 'Dumb A.Is, man...'

'Voice print identified: Welcome, Master Hackett,' The hologram shifted from orange coloration to a more conciliatory blue. 'Would you like me to update you on the status of Hackett House?'

'No, skip it. Instruction: restart the house's technical systems, giving priority to the computer network and the labs. Start them slowly, don't want anything to explode in a sudden power surge,' Sander said. 'While you're at it, do a search of the public records. Update your administrator privilege list based on... currently active Hacketts.'

'Working...' An hourglass bloomed into being at the forefront of the hologram, completing a few lazy turns before disappearing. 'Completed. List updated, Alexander Hackett elevated to sole administrator. Please accept my condolences on behalf of Cantrell Security Systems for your loss, Master Hackett.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 23



'Yeah, I'm all torn up about it,' Though the words themselves conformed to the standards of sarcasm, there was a generous seam of truth underpinning them. Notably, Sander never stopped frowning, 'Now open the damn door and reset the system. I want to head in. Oh, and give my friends here visitor status, they're with me. Then, log off.'

'Working... Completed. Please enjoy your stay, Master Hackett and visitors. Logging off...'

'Who was that?' Amy couldn't help but pipe up, endlessly fascinated by the conveniences of the future that those who lived there took for granted.

'Not a who. Jericho's a who, that's a what,' Sander said. 'A dumb A.I, limited cognitive functions. It's only been designed to run Hackett House, it has no mind of its own.'

'How do you tell the difference?' She replied. 'I mean, it seemed pretty-'

'Kepson-Turing tests, mostly,' Sander cut in. 'But do you really want me to go into the history of A.I theory? No? I didn't think so. Come on.'

With the interface now onside, the door swung open at Sander's approach, without any outside influence. As a series of lights flickered on, the interior beckoned, and after a moment of hesitation Sander stepped forward. 

Though expansive and well furnished, there was a certain abandoned quality to the foyer that made it seem vaguely unsettling; the carpets had the rough quality of one that had laid uncleaned for far too long, and every surface was speckled grey with dust. Even for artificial sunlight, whatever light filtered in through the windows had a dead tone to it. 

'Nice place,' Mara deadpanned, scuffing her foot on the floor. 

'Well, what do you expect?' Sander rolled his eyes. 'Time was, this place was filled with Hacketts all year round. That was before the Doctor got a hold of us, though. It's been over a decade since anyone's set foot in this place, we're lucky the air scrubbers are still operational.'

'Yeah, I feel real lucky, wandering into this abandoned mansion. Remember how you made me live in a prefabricated installation on an asteroid for twelve years?' Mara poked him. 'Would have been nice to have a mansion then, just saying. Hey Interface, can we do something about the cleaning routines, over here?'

'Executing...'

The air was suffused with the sound of mechanisms waking from their decade long slumber, beginning the long process of making the house presentable again. Mara seemed pleased with this, but in truth Sander couldn't care less; he doubted he would ever come back here again, after today. Too many memories.

Everywhere he cast his eye there was some new facet of his past to send a twinge of helpless guilt and sadness through him, some sense memory or stolen childhood moment to remind him that he could never reclaim it. Here in the corner of the foyer was the spot where he would sit with his elder sister Nicole and read, on the days when their parents were out of the house. The silence between them had always felt so comfortable, like no words had ever needed to be said.

He led Mara and Amy down a certain hallway, only to encounter the room that had once been Cohen's, in which his elder brother had taught him how to reprogram the Interface to ignore certain actions their father would never have approved of. And out the window was the patch of lawn by the side of the house where he used to play soccer with his younger brother, back when he had been just a kid. Of course, he had still been a kid on Vesperia, really...

This place was a monument to Sander Hackett's failure. And the greatest proof Sander could provide of the Doctor's unthinking wickedness.

He picked up his pace, unwilling to expose himself to things that would only make him miserable. Mara and Amy kept up, but at least on Amy's part there was a noticeable hesitance; she had been more the victim of Sander's gloomy moods than anyone else. She seemed torn between two desires; she kept up because she didn't want to attract attention from the angry man with the ability to manipulate her Collar, but the need to get away pounded stronger in her head than ever before. It was the same feeling she always got when out in a more public setting with these two; she knew it would be a pointless effort to run, given that she knew nothing of the planet she found herself on, nor anything about her immediate location, yet it still persisted. She could only imagine how strong it must be in one like Christina.

At least Amy felt somewhat invisible; Sander's attention was buried deep within his own mind, and Mara's was, in turn, focused on him. Concern was written plainly on the blonde's face, as every step seemed to turn Sander into the angry, bitter bundle of neuroses that he had been three years ago. All her good work, everything they had done to become stable, seemed to be fading away right in front of her. His past had always been something of an unspoken threat to their life on Trismestigius, but here and now it loomed large.

'This place used to be so busy...' He spoke up into the silence, his voice soft, possibly only for himself, but it snapped both Mara and Amy to attention. 'We moved years ago, when my father got the contract to develop Vesperia, so I guess it makes sense that it's deserted now... It wouldn't be so bad, if there wasn't a house exactly as deserted there, too.'

'Sander...' Mara struggled to vocalize any kind of support for her boyfriend. Anything she could think of seemed inadequate, but then, what could ever possibly make this better?

'It's okay, Mara,' Sander stopped, turned to her. 'Well, no it's not, but that's the point. All this time away, with you and the guys... it's been easy to forget why I started all this in the first place. I needed the reminder.'

He gave her a look that she remembered from the old days, on those long nights in years past, when some critical component of his plan had failed him, or some mental block stopped him from reaching the next breakthrough; it was a look of black, terrible bitterness, laced with the kind of anger only Sander could ever really produce. It was frustration at a misguided universe made flesh, and if it hadn't been for his hand on her shoulder, Mara could easily have believed that she had lost him to revenge again. 

But he gave her a gentle squeeze before returning to the business at hand, as if to reassure her, and she knew it would be okay. She followed him with a tad more conviction, as he gestured at the large door at the end of the corridor.

'And this is where it all began,' He said, with a frown. 'My father's study. God, I used to be so afraid of this place... he used to go berserk if we got anywhere near it. But then, his work always was more important. Mara, don't say anything, I seriously do get the irony there, you don't need to help me.'

She giggled suddenly, the sudden divergence from her boyfriend becoming a release valve for her; all the concern and worry that had been building in her since they arrived flooded out in that one little compressed fragment of emotion. She found herself able to smile, something that Sander seemed to find strange, judging from his answering expression. Her grin only widened when he turned back to the door, especially at his familiar tut of frustration as it refused to open for him.

'Interface, what's the deal? I have administrator privileges, don't I? Open the door,' His knowledge of the house came to the fore once more, as Sander swung his gaze to the concealed projection aperture before the hologram even activated.

'You have been granted Administrator status as per my latest registry update, Master Hackett,' The Interface's cogwheeled avatar bloomed into being beside him. 'However, the former Administrator ordered that access to his study be restricted to all but a pre-approved list upon his leaving the facility. Being a priority directive, I cannot countermand it without his express authorization.'

'But he's dead,' Always willing to drill down to the heart of the issue, Sander leapt immediately to the point.

'I am sorry for your loss.'

'No you're not,' Sander sighed. 'Nobody is sorry that he's gone. Log off, Interface. I guess we'll need to go down to the bluebox and employ a more hands on method. Mara, I need you to stay here. Amy, come on.'

'Whoa whoa, wait, why am I sticking around here alone?' Mara piped up. 'Why are you taking Amy but not me?'

'Because the door probably won't stay open forever no matter what I do to it,' Sander said. 'Dad was like that. So I need someone here to jump through when it opens to unlock it from the other side, since the Interface is too stupid a program to stop you from inside. It has no eyes inside that room, so don't speak and you shouldn't trigger security. That's also why I'm taking Amy, someone needs to take her and there's a greater danger of things screwing up in there than at the bluebox.'

'Well, promise me you won't be long,' Mara pouted, only semi-joking. 'Try not to have any more depressing memories without me, okay?'

'I promise,' He said immediately, allowing her into his arms for the length of time it took for her to plant a soft kiss on his lips, but no more. He was hardly in the mood- or the place- for displays of affection like that. For a moment, he realized just how much his father would have disapproved of his son dating someone like Mara; the thought was vaguely pleasant to him.

The thought occurred to him that this might be the perfect opportunity to give the old man something to fume over in whatever warmed over pit his soul had ended up in, but it was quickly quashed; this was the closest Sander had to a grave marker for his family, after all. Sure, there was probably some vastly denigrated headstone in some little cemetery on Vesperia, but he was hardly able to return there no matter how much that idea turned his stomach. Hackett House was the only remnant of the Hackett family that he could reach; even if just for personal comfort, such an idea would be disrespectful. 

So he let her go, giving her the warmest smile he could muster in return; he could see how this place might worry her, after all. When he turned, Amy made sure to keep up with him; it struck him as amusing that, compared to Mara, he was the most stable human to be with right now. 

The bluebox could theoretically be accessed from his old room, after he and Cohen had surreptitiously moved a few lines of code in the security system and nudged the wireless access points some, but Sander would be damned if he was taking Amy there. Instead he opted to head downstairs, taking Amy out of the living areas of the house and into the underbelly, where everything was cast in steely grey, and exposed cables lined the walls. It was a more grim scene, and in many ways reminded him of the interior of Trismestigius. 

As he slipped down lower, and the lights became harsher up above, Sander couldn't help but reminisce. He had snuck in here either alone or with his brother so many times, tweaking the base code of their home to be more accommodating to them. Suddenly, their curfew was lifted, the security systems no longer logged their comings and goings quite as accurately, and the security cameras had decided to go dead as they passed. It had been more than enough freedom to get into plenty of trouble; in retrospect it couldn't have done much to improve his father's mood, but that had hardly mattered given the old man's generally dour demeanor. 

It was funny how much more freedom he had now, and yet this house continued to exert its pull on him...

'He'll end up emptying your house like he did mine, you know,' Sander said without looking back, as they travelled deeper. 'The Doctor, I mean.'

'He filled my house, Sander,' Amy replied without thinking, defending the Time Lord as if on automatic. 'It was just me and my aunt before I met him. He brought my parents back.'

'I hardly think repairing the damage counts, Pond,' He said. 'Why did your parents disappear in the first place? Because of the cracks in time, made by the TARDIS exploding, because the Doctor's enemies were targeting him again. You and your parents were just crossfire, but then, bringing them back hardly makes up for the childhood you spent without them, now does it?'

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but found she had nothing to say. If she was being honest, her mind was a wreck since she had started travelling with the Doctor; two timelines competed for real estate in her memories, two lives throbbing in her head every moment of the day. Whenever she brought it up the Doctor was never interested, he seemed to actually avoid discussing the subject, but that didn't change the fact that it had happened. She remembered it all as clearly as yesterday; years of loneliness, absent of parents, ostracized because of her Raggedy Doctor... what had it all been for? 

'This is what he does,' Sander continued without stopping, breaking Amy away from her thoughts. 'He charms you, then chews up your life until he gets bored or you come to your senses. But he's got you wrapped around his little finger... I wonder what you'll have to lose before you start rethinking things?'

The allusion made Sander remember that Amy herself wasn't the issue here. He could never bring himself to hate Amy; when he looked at her he saw a victim, just like him. Someone who'd had to sacrifice whole swathes of her family on the blue box's altar, just for the dubious privilege of watching the last child of Gallifrey show off. Only her circumstances were different, and Sander knew precisely the things that would need to happen for Amy to hate the Doctor. He had seen it, at Two Streams; yet another timeline that had been left aborted. How many do-overs did the Doctor need, to get Amy Pond right?

With nothing further to say, the pair continued in silence, keeping up a constant pace to avoid leaving Mara waiting. It was clear just by looking that the disrepair that had befallen the rest of the house did not extend to the tech hub below it; the maintenance protocols paid much more attention to the parts of the house that kept them alive. The walls were made of a fine blue metal, cool to the touch and glossy enough to reflect the minimal track lighting that bordered the path down enough to keep everything perfectly clear. Sander knew that Hackett House was, in actuality, a microcosm of his Trismestigius home; a domestic framework placed atop a rather vast collection of networked computing hubs and artificial intelligence drives. 

He felt proud of that, like he had one upped his old man.

Amy seemed mostly content to stay behind Sander as he led the way, but he could certainly feel her gaze on his back as they walked. When he looked back at her- something he felt he needed to do every now and then just to ensure she hadn't run off somewhere- he could easily see the tenseness in her form, and he recognized it well; this was an Amy struggling to stop herself from saying something harsh. He simply turned back and waited, making internal bets as to how long she would be able to keep her mouth shut.

As it turned out, Amy could only hold off for as long as the stairs continued; as Sander palmed open the sole door at the bottom, the redhead began to speak.

'So... what?' Her Scottish accent twanged through the silence. 'Your answer to the problems you have with the Doctor is to kidnap and rape me? To say nothing of everyone else you've hurt? You don't see the problem with that?'

'I would suggest that the only things that have any success fighting the Doctor are monsters,' Sander answered, acid edging his voice. He absolutely did not need to be dealing with this right now, 'It takes a monster to fight a monster, after all.' 

'But you're not fighting the Doctor!' Amy persisted, flying on wings of audacity by now. She had been plenty happy just to sit tight and wait out Sander's... odd mood, but the moment he mentioned the Doctor, he had reminded her just how bad an idea that was. Sander didn't need to be tolerated, not if she wanted to be able to look the Doctor in the eye ever again, and that was even ignoring Rory...

'You're just taking out your frustrations on a series of effigies!' She continued. 'What do I have to do with what happened to your family? What does Sally, or Lorna, or Christina?'

'What did my family have to do with my actions on Vesperia?' Sander snapped. 'Amy, do not go there, I'm warning you...'

'I know, the truth hurts!' Amy scowled, unwilling to give up her momentum now that she'd finally got some back. 'You aren't some downtrodden hero, Sander! You're no resistance fighter, you're just a rapist.'

Of course, Sander knew this. He had long ago committed himself to doing whatever was necessary... and with no small measure of enjoyment, either. He could admit it. But there was something about having it so starkly revealed here, of all places... the sound of her voice seemed to ring through the halls where his family had once lived. In this place, hearing Amy lecture him about suffering made his mechanical parts itch. 

'You know, you can complain about how I treat you all you want, but I just find it all pretty rich,' He growled, turning fully around to stalk after her, giving Amy the kind of glare that made her step back, until her back was pressed against the cold steel wall, and still he didn't back off. He walked right into her personal space without hesitation, until they were eye to eye, 'Or did you think I'd somehow neglected to look into your past so much, Amelia Pond? You think I didn't know? That little thing you haven't even told Rory? Your Raggedy Doctor wasn't the only reason you were sent to therapy, now was it?'

Amy's eyes snapped open, as wide as they would go, hands balling into impotent fists at her side; only the Collar around her neck, and Sander's relative strength, stopped her from lashing out at him. Gnawing fear opened up a pit in her stomach; of course, it would have been too much to ask for him to have ignored that...

'Truth is, you've always liked this stuff,' Sander continued, voice filled with infuriating, liquid confidence. Amy truly got the feeling he was employing his trump card, here, 'Kinky little girl, hiding it away under layers of repression, so afraid to show any other sign of abnormality... because the first time you did, you got rejected. But your aunt caught you... experimenting once, didn't she? That wasn't the only time, but it's the one you remember...'

All at once, he forced a hand between Amy's legs, up under the folds of her skirt, her soft skin pressing against him as he touched her with shocking intimacy. Amy couldn't help but gasp, and try to wriggle away, but Sander would not allow her to resist.

'Why do you think I chose you first?' He said smoothly, eyes glinting. 'Your Doctor's regeneration is two forms too late for me, but you... I watched you, and all you gave me was ideas. The first time I saw you all on your lonesome, fucking yourself with clothespins on your nipples, I knew it had to be you...'

Amy opened her mouth to respond, her tongue tripping over the words as they came to mind, the sound coming out as closer to a high, reedy whimper than anything cogent. Besides, Sander's expression had taken on a steely hardness that told her speaking now would just be a terrible idea. Even so, there was knowledge between them now that Amy was desperate to address, the fact that he knew hung over her head like a guillotine. 

'That's-' She began, stopping with a yelp as Sander slammed a palm into the wall beside her head, hard enough for the clang to resound through the metal, vibrations tracing across her skin where she leaned against the wall.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 23



'That's the truth,' He said in a cool voice, the lack of volume there so much worse than if he had just yelled. These words were truly just for her; Amy was so used to Sander speaking at her, playing a role that allowed her to simply disregard his words as something said solely for his benefit, as though the words were for show. But this was personal, just between the two of them; even if she could somehow convince him to keep this a secret from everyone else... he would still know...

'Now, I'm aware this is different, I'm not stupid,' Sander continued, keeping his gaze locked to Amy's; she struggled to keep up the eye contact herself. 'But it is the truth. Amy Pond, struggling with so much more than her alien abandonment... Every time I saw you give in to what you really want, all it gave me was ideas, Pond...'

'It is different,' Amy spat, finally finding her confidence again, and with it a righteous anger. 'I would never-'

'Do that with me?' Sander smirked. 'I beg to differ...'

Without another word, he spun her around, his grip just tight enough to hint at what would happen to her if she even thought about struggling. Even so, her hands went to grab his with automatic defensiveness as he went to push her hips out against his. But Sander's strength would not be denied; in moments, and despite whatever resistance that Amy could offer, her backside pressed into his crotch, the thin fabric of her skirt no measure of defense at all against what he had to offer there. Amy head him laugh, throaty and deep, right beside her, as he gripped her own wrists and pushed her hands onto the cold metal of the wall. 

'Keep your hands on the wall,' He growled, giving her wrists a painful squeeze to punctuate his words. 'If you take them off, even for a second, I'll make you regret it, Amy... Do you understand me?'

'Yes...' She squeaked, knowing full well that the Collar around her neck could be put to use at any moment. She was desperate to fight back, to offer some form of resistance but... like this, he frightened her. She was all alone with him, there were no moderating influences here, and this place was clearly one of high stress to him. With Mara around there was at least some form of moderating influence on his mania, but here...

God knows what pissing him off would bring now...

'Oh no,' Sander said, and though Amy couldn't see his face, she could feel his vicious grin on the back of her neck. 'I'm back home, and here I was as near to royalty as one could get... I'm feelin' like I should be getting a bit of respect, here... Say that again, Pond...'

She knew what he wanted, the game he was playing was painfully familiar. It took her a few attempts to even get the words out, such was the sheer force of her pride and desperation. In the end, of course, the Command Collar wrapped around her neck was the deciding factor, the weight of it forcing her to continue.

'Y-yes... sir...' She stammered, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the wall. Her cheeks flushed hotly, the pronounced effect of the words yet another humiliation; she had been made to say all kinds of things at the behest of Sander and his crew in the past, some of it- most of it, if she was being honest- had had some perverse effect on her body, just as they had wanted... but this was different. This was serious. 

Sander wasn't really playing anymore. Not for fun, anyway.

Amy wasn't even surprised when she felt his fingers dig into the back of her neck, keeping her head held down against the wall. 

'I could make you go further,' He snarled, and Amy began wondering just how far she had ended up pushing him. He had been angry with her in the past; hell, they had met when he was angry, but he seemed to have taken her challenge to his authority here rather more seriously. Something in this place, or his connection to it, had changed the stakes of the game; if Sander was a family man, he was a damn hardcore one.

Amy's back stiffened as she felt Sander grip the hem of her skirt and pull down roughly, allowing it to drop discarded and alone to the floor once it had passed the curve of her hips. It pooled around her ankles, after clinging to her legs the entire way down; Sander took the time to kick it away from them once Amy had stepped out of it, leaving her feeling extra exposed. Her fingers tightened on the wall, but stayed resolutely attached.

She upped the pressure, practically driving her palms into the wall as he dragged her shirt up over the curve of her breasts, letting the fabric bunch up and rest there once it had cleared the tops of her perky, aching mounds. She kept her eyes shut to hide her prickling tears, as she heard him unzip himself from behind her, the faintest trace of a finger down her spine such a contrast against his previous strength.

And she only cried out once when he drove himself into her, hot and hard and shockingly deep, with a single thrust. Her gasp echoed off the walls; she had been unprepared for that, but her wetness had preempted Sander, against her will. 

'You hate this, don't you?' His voice threaded through her, but Sander kept still, otherwise. His hips had met her ass, his cock buried to the hilt in her shamefully moist cunt, her toes curling inside her shoes at the thin, sickly pleasure that needled at her at his mere touch. When one of his hands snaked around to her chest, fingers pulling painfully at her nipples, one at a time, Amy had to bite back a whimpering moan.

'Not just gettin' fucked, but how you react to it,' He continued, words just for the two of them. There was an unerring knowledge in his tone, that made Amy tremble with sheer helplessness, 'But the truth is, this is exactly why you react, Amy. You blush, and you cry, but you cum, too. You hate what we do to you... but we're the only ones who know how. Proud, brave Amy Pond, the Girl Who Waited... and all she really wanted was someone to hold her down and fuck her until she can't take it anymore...'

'I don't want this,' Amy hissed, her jaw set against the discomfort blooming hotly through her chest, nerve endings screaming in confusion. Her traitorous body didn't seem to know how to interpret the pain; her pussy juiced up even as her eyes welled with tears.

'And that's why it works,' Sander's grin prickled the skin on the back of her neck. 'Loving what you don't want... You're just one big bundle of cognitive dissonance, aren't you, you fucked up little slut?'

'I'm fucked up?' Amy tried to sound tough, even a little defiant, but her words came at the same time as a particularly rough tug to her nipple, and her voice rose into a whimper as she spoke. 

'Oh, we both are...' He growled. 'Isn't it nice that we match? Just a couple of strays in the universe, except one of us was always just waiting for the correct collar. And the Doctor's just wasn't right... Here, let me illustrate my point...'

And then, he started to move.

There was no build up, or even any indication that he was planning anything; one moment he was still and taunting, the next moving and... vicious. His breath snarled in his throat as he pulled out, only to thrust into Amy just as deeply as before, but with far more force. Sander's cock stabbed into her, so hard and so fast that all Amy could do was spread her legs wider in the hopes of alleviating some of the discomfort. It didn't help, but in the mother of all mixed blessings, Amy found herself growing wetter by the second, easing Sander's invasive thrusts. 

She knew not to take her hands off of the wall; the way he was acting, Sander was liable to lash out if she disobeyed, and with the mire of hormones her body had become... Amy had no idea how she would react to that. Her cheeks colored at the mental admission, tears making tracks down them, not only at the pain in her body, but the utter shame of how she trembled with it; how her pussy smacked wetly at each inward thrust, how her clit throbbed in time with his fucking, how her muscles tightened and heat coiled deep in her hips. Nobody should react like this to this...

Every thrust made Amy feel more and more ill at ease, like an alien in her skin. Her body was rebelling, sparking, a live wire no matter how hard she fought against what he was doing to her. And it had to be Sander doing it, because the alternative was that this was all inside her own skin...

She was unable to fight bodily; with her hands against the wall and that Command Collar around her throat, there was no way she could throw Sander off. But she could fight mentally; as her entire body shivered and arced higher, Amy gritted her teeth and clamped down on herself as hard as she could, trying to delay an orgasm that she could feel welling in her depths. All she had to do was last longer than Sander...

Of course, that was easier said than done...

'You think I can't feel that?' Sander murmured, in between long, grunting thrusts. It was all he needed to say; Amy sobbed in shame as even then she climbed higher. It had become inevitable, and something in that was at least a little comforting. She could give up some small portion of volition; she was going to cum. All at once, his leash tightened a little more about her neck. 

By now, she could actually feel her juices running down the inside of her thighs, her entire physical form going into meltdown as she watched. It was as though she was just observing it happen; Amy Pond had been entirely given over to whatever Sander Hackett could do to her. There was no defense, nowhere to run; powerless wasn't the half of it, it was more like all her agency had been stripped away, her body a prison of unbidden, unwanted lust. She could feel herself falling, that coiled spring inside her unbearably tight and ready to break loose at any moment. 

She could hear herself moaning freely, as though from very far away.

'You're about to get off,' Sander said, stating the fact like a nail pounded through her brain. Just having him speak to her like that, at once taunting and powerful, sent her cunt into spasm around his pummeling cock. He never let up, even though in her mind she was frantic, near begging him to... just unable to force the words out.

She didn't want to, she couldn't cum... not like this. It would only confirm everything he thought about her...

Everything she feared about herself...

'F-fuck...' Amy didn't know why she said it, said anything, really. It just seemed like she needed to say something, to fill the silence more than the wetness of her pussy already did, the squelching like a million tiny accusations.

Fucked up slut...

'Come on, Amy. Say it,' His fingers gripped painfully into her hips, and for a moment she lost control even more, rolling her ass back against him... She was a train derailed, a reactor at meltdown, a volcano ready to blow. Nothing seemed real, everything had a dreamlike quality to it; feeling like this couldn't be something that happened in reality...

'Feels good, doesn't it?'

'Yes...'

'You really are a messed up girl,' Sander grunted, before slapping Amy's ass hard enough to make her back arch in pain. 'Cum.'

Amy would have laughed at how ridiculous it was that Sander thought he could make her do that just by ordering her to... had that not been exactly what happened. She moaned, in abject shame.

Her climax welled up in her belly, an oily tide like nausea enveloping her, gripping her like a fist. It was almost cold, sweeping up and down her body, centering on her hips, radiating out into her bones and muscles and skin, leaving her chilled almost to the point of madness. It was pain and rapture, all rolled up into one. Tears tracked wet lines down her burning cheeks as she leaned her forehead against the cool surface of the wall, screaming through clenched teeth in a trembling, sobbing voice. And all the time she came, Sander was there, so close, inside her, making her do it...

It was amazing how merely naming her dysfunction like he had changed the experience of it so much...

'You know,' His voice broke through, even as her cunt spasmed around his still moving cock, taunting her still. 'There aren't any contraceptive fields here. If I cum in you...'

'P-please...' She gasped, body still throbbing through the aftershocks of an orgasm that had left her a quaking mess. Hadn't this gone far enough? 

She felt him draw closer, the silence felt like he was winding up to say something, and then...

'Well? Give me a better alternative, Pond...'

'My mouth...' She sobbed, the words tumbling out of her before she even knew what she was saying. Something had crumbled inside her; anything to get this over with, now...

'Nah,' Sander said. 'I've got a better idea.'

For a moment Amy felt him withdrawing, resulting in a blissful emptiness in her sopping pussy. The suddenness of the act made her gasp, but she couldn't help feeling relieved that it was over. It was an uncharacteristically merciful act from Sander, but she wasn't about to question it. But then she felt his hands on her ass, and in that split second knew what was coming next; even so, it didn't prepare her for the sheer force with which Sander tilted his hips upward, and skewered her ass.

There was pain to it, in that sudden fullness, and the intense violation of Sander taking yet another part of her for his own pleasure. But so much worse... she came again, suddenly and intensely, her entire body throbbing with it. She moaned this time, but this orgasm was far shorter than the sickly one that had preceded it; merely a pang of climax, like a taunt: "Yes, you even got off on that, too..."

Sander's orgasm was something of a mercy, given that. Amy felt his cock pulse in her ass, waves of sticky wetness filling her up, and though she wept anew, there was at least a cold comfort in the fact that he wouldn't be able to do that again for a while. She had some time to recover. 

He stepped away, and through the haze of shame and arousal Amy only barely remembered to keep her hands on the wall until he said otherwise. Having just gotten off, it was unlikely that he would even remember to punish her for that, but given what had just happened, Amy wasn't willing to take the chance. She waited, sobbing softly to herself, shoulders rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as Sander resettled his clothes and zipped up his pants. 

'What are you- Oh, Amy... take your hands off the wall, you're free. Released,' Sander said, restraining a chuckle. 'I got what I wanted.'

'Free... yeah,' Amy tried to snap, making sure to wipe the tears from her eyes before looking over her shoulder to get Sander into eyeshot; there was no need for him to see those. She quickly reclaimed her clothes, bringing her skirt back into place before pulling her shirt down over nipples that were still aching and sensitive; a shiver went down her spine as the cloth slipped over them. It made her sick to her stomach that she still felt like this.

'I'm not gonna claim that was anything other than what it was,' Sander said, rolling his shoulder idly. 'I got mad, I lost control. That's the risk you run when you challenge me on the sensitive issues. But I've got a job to do down here, so if you've got something to say, say it now.'

'Do you still think you've got the moral high ground?' Amy said, eyes narrowing. 'After what you just did?'

Sander sighed, gave Amy a very firm gesture to stay put before disappearing into the tech hub. Amy peered in through the doorway, glimpsing a ceiling laden with cables and wires, drooping slightly under their own weight, lit from below by light blue track lighting. It gave the entire room an eerie quality; the looping wires cast long, curved shadows across the walls, the floor, and eventually across Sander himself, as he pried open yet another panel, this time on what seemed to be the central control unit. As Sander's cool blue eyes peered out at her from within the solid, dark shadow he sat in, Amy became very glad she didn't have to follow him.

'Warning: Exterior shell compromised,' The Interface bloomed into life, colored a darker, warning red than before. Of course, this new coloration contrasted awfully with the otherwise cool and understated lighting, making the creature jar with the world around it in a nasty way. Its cogwheels almost blurred as they spun, 'Security-'

'Interface, shut up,' Sander cut in. 'Log off, I know what I'm doing. And I don't need the interruption right now.'

'Logging off...'

'Damn right,' He growled. 'Now, if I just... Yeah, there we go! My house, my rules...'

He removed himself from the depths of the machinery he had entangled with, threading his fingers delicately around the twists and turns of the morass of wiring and instruments. Swearing gently to himself, upon catching his thumb in between a knot of wires, Sander finally came free, shaking his hands in the air as though dislodging droplets of water from them. It was strange, but that tiny useless gesture reminded Amy; there was a real person in there somewhere. This place was testament to that fact; once upon a time Sander Hackett had lived like anyone else, had people he cared about just as much as she did for Rory. Of course, then the question became: how much of that person was left?

How much had he been corroded by his venomous hatred?

'You're not going to change my mind,' He said, out of the blue as he caught up to Amy and led her back up the way they had come.

'What?' Amy replied, caught off balance by the way he had shifted, the way that angry monster had disappeared, almost without warning. He didn't even seem able to acknowledge it now. 

'About what I'm doing,' He said. 'Don't even try, it's just liable to piss me off. Like you, when those shrinks tried to convince you that the Doctor wasn't real. Remember that? You lashed out, just like I am. Of course, you were just a kid... but you're not different from me, Amy.'

'I am not like you,' There was no anger in her voice, but the emphasis was still there. What would be the point of anger? He really wasn't going to be convinced, she knew that. Some small part of her believed there must be something, some switch inside him that could make him turn back, but that ideal was quickly being crushed under the sheer weight of the rest of her situation. Still, she needed to say something, 'You're a monster.'

Or close to becoming one, that tiny inner voice amended. For a moment, Amy was afraid she would say it out loud, too.

'Monsters are made for the Doctor,' Sander answered, without hesitation. At times, it really did seem like he had all his Doctor-related thoughts lined up in neat little rows inside his head, ready to be trotted out when needed. Like he had been rehearsing an angry little play about Time Lords this entire time, 'Forged, whether through anger, or fear, or any number of things, just to take him on. How much stronger have the Daleks become to bring him down? How many worlds have fallen to the Cybermen to replenish the legions he destroys? And how many of his friends do you honestly think have come away without some awful scar or two?'

'Those aren't his fault!' Amy was surprised at how plaintive her words had sounded, as she stopped on one low stair, and allowed Sander to climb up to the next landing before turning back. 

'Aren't they?' His head tilted, brows knitting into a kind of confused disappointment, as though he couldn't quite believe she had asked such a ridiculous question. 'He knows what he does is dangerous, and he still collects us anyway. He can try to protect you, but he knows he'll fail. He's never once succeeded all the way. He's supposed to be your guide. How many free passes can you possibly be willing to give him? Besides, I know what happens to you, Amelia Pond, and because I've seen your future, I know exactly what it takes to get you to kill.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 23



'What?'

'Imagine that. Ever think something could make you a murderer?' Sander turned without a sound and continued up the stairs, leaving Amy frozen on the flight below. As he reached the next landing he sang out, voice lilting, 'I know what does...'

Even as she willed herself to follow him, fearing this new unpredictable mood even more than his previous anger, Amy couldn't help but choke on the innumerable questions that swarmed to her throat, desperate to be heard. But could she even ask any of them? Would he answer? What had he meant?

Maybe he was just trying to screw with her head. Again. But he had plenty of real life weapons with which to do that, if his aim was merely keeping her confused; he had so clearly demonstrated that at the bottom of the stairs. No, the possibility was chilling, but it was perhaps the most realistic; he was telling the truth.

Not for the first time, he had made her ask herself: what was it the Doctor had really done for her? Could she call her life better for him being in it? Sure, he had shown her a better world, but was that worth the years he had left her abandoned? Or the complete disinterest he had in those years and their attendant pain now he had returned? Was it worth the two timelines she now had to keep in her head? Hurting Rory as much as she had? His deaths? Her parents?

Wait... wasn't that supposed to be someone else's fault?

Even her best argument- that he had shown her things very few people had ever seen before, the wonders of the universe- seemed dull and lifeless now. Because it wasn't really true, was it? She was seeing it from her own painfully limited, human point of view. The truth was, lots of people got to see what the Doctor had seen, just not at the time she had been born into. People from the future, from any one of countless eons yet to come, had and could see precisely the wonders the Doctor had shown her whenever they liked, with very little effort.

Maybe the Doctor had only ever shown her one truly unique thing. He had certainly shown her the cold, gaping jaws of infinity, within which her own life, and even the extraordinary things she had seen, the opportunities she had been given, measured up to... almost nothing.

For better or worse...

Amy caught up to Sander at the top of the stairs, but knew better than to attempt to follow up on his latest attempt to taunt her. At the very least, doing so would tip him off to just how successful it had been, something Amy didn't need right now. They walked in silence for a while, Sander stopping occasionally to survey some aspect of the environment that he seemed to remember from his childhood. For her part, Amy would stand by and attempt to look the least awkward as she possibly could. 

'There's something I need to show you,' Sander said eventually, the sound sudden enough to make Amy jump. 'But you're not going to like it.'

'I rarely like anything you show me,' Amy answered drily, not in the mood to sugarcoat her answers just to keep him happy. 'But you don't care.'

'You got that right,' He replied. 'But you still need to see this.'

'I simply cannot wait,' Acid etched her reply. Nothing more needed to be said; Sander had reached his final position, and Amy had reached hers. They walked in silence, Sander's long, meandering strides presenting such a contrast to Amy's tighter, more controlled pace. As they walked, she looked around; out every window she could see the Arcology dome, closing her in with this man. The open sky in a cage. 

'Well, never seen someone take that long to unlock a door before,' Mara said, leaning against the open doorframe to keep the door from closing again. 'But then again, I've also never seen a system like this one, either. What the hell is up with this place, Hackett?'

'My family is very, very proud of its lineage of technological innovation,' Sander inflated the words with a deprecating, pompous tone. 'Everything here is proprietary Hackett tech. Some of it is positively unique, like my dad's console, in there.'

He pointed on through as he walked in the now opened door, into a depressingly closed-in room, given that it was supposed to be inhabited by a real person. There were no windows, nor any visible point of ventilation; though the air scrubbers had done their job well enough, the elder Hackett's study still felt like a tomb. Mara exchanged a significant look with Amy as they followed him in; neither girl knew quite what they would find. Amy wouldn't have been terribly surprised to find an actual corpse in here...

'Now, ladies, if you'll just give me a moment...' Sander was already at the console, and at his touch the opposite wall lit up, cold colors bursting to life in a minimalist display that only belied the kind of man his father had really been. Sander had never been in this room as an adult, and his snatched childhood glimpses through the doorway were hazy... but he wasn't even surprised to find that his father had no decoration or mementoes on his desk. This place was just for work.

Much like the man himself...

Mara turned to the screen, and Amy followed, simply by virtue of having nothing else to look at. The data upon it meant nothing to her; Sander was speed reading, so the characters flew by without ever sitting still for a single second. What she could see were strings of numbers that she couldn't possibly decode, or sentences that were stripped of context. It hardly mattered; Sander seemed to understand, that was the important part. At last, the sequence stopped, a number of separate files lined up onscreen.

'Sander... is that...?' Mara was fascinated, eyes rippling across line to line, a smile spreading across her face.

'The reason we came here,' He answered, equally fascinated. 'Schematics for a temporal engine, like nothing we've ever seen. My father was a genius, Mara. He could knock stuff like this out on his lunch break, stuff that would take me weeks to develop. I'm taking all of this with me when I go, but this is what we need: give me a little time with this, and we've got our best shot at fixing the damage to the Eternity Engine. Marduk's damage has nothing on my dad's archives.'

'How come your family's gotta be like this?' Mara said. 'I can't help but feel really inferior, I'd hate to have to meet your folks.'

'That won't be a problem,' Sander said dourly. 'Which brings me to my next point. Amy, Mara, I want you to meet the rest of the Hacketts.'

Suddenly, the lines of characters on the screen dropped away, to be replaced by four photographs, the smiling faces of the rest of the Hackett family. Sander scowled as he walked around the console to stand in front of the screen. Amy knew what was coming almost immediately, and the color drained from her face as she examined the photos; two of them were just children.

'My brother, my sisters, and my mother,' Sander said, voice low and oddly hollow. 'All dead now, thanks to the Doctor.'

Talking now would be the worst decision Amy would ever make, she knew that just from the set of his shoulders as he walked far closer to the screen that she or Mara, his fingers slipping through the holographic image as he reached out to his family. That's all they were now, so many ions and electrical impulses on a screen... that, and his memories, of course. He had affixed their faces in his mind, to be called upon whenever he drew close to giving up. 

He couldn't even visit their graves...

'My big sister had just been given command of her own New Earth military frigate, did you know that?' He said, to nobody in particular, grief chasing his voice relentlessly. 'Our mother was so proud... Nicole had come home on shore leave just to celebrate her promotion, I'd taken her out drinking the night before... before him. I don't even know how she died...'

'Would you even want to?' Mara raised a hand as if to touch him, but her fingers flexed in midair, as if afraid he might shrink away from her touch now. He seemed oblivious to her presence, something that the blonde found rather upsetting.

'Maybe-... no. No, probably not. I don't know what to feel about that,' Sander let out a long, shuddering breath, finally turning away from the screen, now backlit and cast in thin shadows as he regarded Amy dispassionately. 'Do you understand now?'

'Do I understand what?' Amy struggled not to take a step back. He approached her with long steps that swung his feet, almost on autopilot. 

'Why I'm doing this,' Sander snapped, very quickly. 'They didn't deserve to die for my actions. They didn't deserve to be casualties of the Doctor's work. You keep making excuses for him, but is what he does worth anything if people have to die for him to have his... vacation? Even one life is too many.'

'I don't-'

'No, you don't. But I need you to understand,' By now he was so close, eyes burning into hers, the old flames stoked higher and higher in him, the Sander Hackett that revenge had wrought. He gestured back at the smiling faces of the long dead Hacketts, 'To give them the justice they do deserve? For them? I would burn everything I have to the ground, if I thought I could catch the Doctor in the flames.'

'Including me?' Mara had to speak up, heart beating hard in her chest. Of course she had heard all this from Sander before, but not in the last few years; she had truly thought he had grown beyond it. Today had been a huge setback for that belief, and though she absolutely did not want to feel this way, Mara truly didn't know the answer to her question. She felt her muscles tensing, waiting for his answer. 

For his part, Sander blinked, spending a moment to refocus on the world around him, after being caught up in his rage. He looked at Mara at first with surprise, as though he hadn't noticed her, before his expression softened, and he sighed.

'No, never including you,' He went to her then, putting his arms around her. She leaned up a little, to rest her chin on his shoulder, just in time to hear him say, 'I do have a few things worth defending.'

There was an oddly revelatory tone in his voice, as though he was reminding himself of that fact. After three years, it still seemed like an odd fit, to him. No longer alone...

'You keep that in mind...' Mara said, trying to keep the hitch out of her voice. She feared that she had failed, and that her fears had been clearly audible to him, as evidence by the way he held her tighter in response. When he pulled away he made sure to give her a reassuring look, planting a gentle kiss to her forehead before turning back to the screen.

'You're in the same league as them, Mara. Don't ever think you're not,' He said, returning to the console to type a long series of commands, draining the majority of his father's hard drive away into a small portable nanofiber drive he had brought with him, cutting through the wireless security systems before they even got started. When he was finished, he walked away, leaving the screen running.

'Aren't you going to turn that off?' Mara pointed. 

'No,' Sander sighed. 'No, let them stay here for a while. Come on, I think I'm done here.'

Mara and Amy followed him as he slipped away, allowing the door to close and lock once more, on that empty room, filled with the light of the screen. Sander knew he would probably never return here; when he left, and that screen eventually switched itself off, there would be no more Hacketts here. And for the first time, he was fine with that. 

It was something he was working on.

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 25



 Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey guys, apologies for the long delay between chapters here, I've been working on a few other things that you might find interesting, coming in future. I'm back on the Panic Moon bandwagon, hard at work on the next chapter, so it shouldn't be too long incoming. In the meantime, I'd appreciate any feedback and votes you guys want to give. Enjoy!

Kurokami

**************

'You keep getting looks.'

'Yes, thank you. I can tell. I may not have eyes, but I'm not blind, Lysithea,' Dulcimer sent, the apex of her gaze swinging around to regard the alien. 

'I know that,' She replied. 'But it does make me want to ask: What happened to the Dullahan? Your people are only stories to me, but you are here, you exist. Where are the rest?'

'That's a long story. And I can't blame these people for looking,' The Dullahan seemed to sigh, though it was hard to tell without any real sound. 'I doubt there's anyone here who has even seen one of us before. We don't really leave the homeworld.'

'You did,' Lysithea pointed out.

'Yes. I did. Can we talk about something else, please?' 

'Yeah, okay,' The Trine-form craned her neck to look back, eyeing Sally and Lorna as they walked side by side, some ways behind the pair of aliens. 'Come on girls, keep up. This is hardly the place to be unescorted.'

'Aren't you two technically the same?' Sally, always the most willing to speak up, asked. 

'Ah yes, but we aren't wearing those Collars,' The pale alien responded with a sly smile, winking a clear green eye at them. 'That's quite a distinguishing factor. Just look at the kinds of attention you two are attracting.'

True enough, the non-contemporaneous duo were attracting an undue amount of attention, mostly from the passersby, but occasionally from the service staff working the stalls and out-facing shops, too. It was frankly unnerving; the citizens of Selestene were uniformly well dressed and aristocratic in manner, and their expressions had a refined sort of detachment to them. This city was filled with libertine dignitaries and a wealthy criminal element; an Arcology for those with lots of money and a minimum of respect for the law. The kinds of things they would be perfectly willing to do to people like Lorna and Sally didn't bear thinking about. 

The four of them walked well kept streets, with the aliens walking ahead to cut through the crowds; the streets were filled with humanity, and not much else. Lorna got the feeling that Selestene didn't get a lot of nonhuman traffic, or that if it did, the aliens had the good sense to stick to being unseen. These folks had never seen anything like Dulcimer and Lysithea before.

'I'm glad you convinced me to come out, I'm getting all sorts of interesting signals from these people. This place is surprisingly murky, for a human city,' The Dullahan sent during a lull in the conversation.

'You shouldn't be reading minds without permission, Dulsie,' Lysithea sent back, keeping her words in the mental realm to avoid raising the ire of the crowd around her; she got the feeling they wouldn't appreciate knowing that a couple of telepaths were walking among them with their empathic filters off. 'It's rude.'

'It's also not something I can help,' Dulsie replied, calmly. 'I can't just turn off how I see the world. I'm not even trying to limit it, these people are just brazen.'

'I'm beginning to feel left out, now,' Lysithea lapsed back into speech, the sudden return to the audible spectrum causing Lorna and Sally to look up quickly, receiving only a fragment of the conversation. The Trine-form had had to force herself into the habit of speaking; her own people were hive minded in the extreme, and if she allowed herself to converse telepathically more than she had to, it would be easy to slip back into it and not return. 

'Well, let's find a nice likely cathouse with poorly maintained telepathic shielding, sit down outside and you can soak up some nice feelings,' The Dullahan stopped dead in the middle of the street, sweeping the focus of her awareness about the scene, lifting her mind above the murmuring of the people on the street to push the locus of her mind into the nearby buildings. 

In a place like this, it didn't take her long at all to find what she was looking for.

'There,' She pointed, drawing not only Lysithea's attention, but the attention of the two human girls following them. Without another word she set off, allowing the rest of the group to follow her. 

In truth, Dulcimer had found herself spoiled for choice, in regards to houses of ill repute; though on the whole Selestene was filled with crystalline towers and complex, sweeping structures, it hadn't been all that hard to find the arcology's red light district. The buildings here were more squat, the layout of the streets more conducive to keeping each individual person at a remove from everyone else. 

Some buildings had wide, open entrances, beckoning passersby in as effectively as several hundred blinking augmented reality advertisements could do. But the one that had attracted the Dullahan's attention was far more discrete, something that did not escape Lysithea's notice.

'Yes, this one's good,' She nodded, drawing her eyes over the front façade. 'The people in there mean business, you can tell. No ads, no indication it's even open... sessions by appointment, probably. Good choice.'

'It's also exuding pleasure like nobody's business,' Dulcimer pointed out. 'No vacant rooms, so much the better for us.'

'Then let us sit, my friend,' Lysithea winked, perching herself with self-effacing daintiness on a garden bed opposite the unobtrusive building. With a vaguely concerned look over her shoulder at Lorna, Sally did likewise, a very noticeable gap between herself and the alien; this gap was quickly filled by the Dullahan, much to Sally's discomfort. 

'It's been a while since I've been able to cut loose,' Lysithea sighed happily, closing her eyes and expanding her mental field. 'Without having to worry about the Chorus, that is.'

'I can help you deal with that,' Dulcimer sent, with the telepathic equivalent of a wink. Lysithea felt the tickling, light touch of the Dullahan's mind brushing against her own, waiting for permission for further contact. In many ways it was like a psychic caress, a gentle, almost seductive probing, sliding in further only when the Trine-form allowed it.

'Whoa,' Lysithea blinked, having to rapidly adjust to the Dullahan's connection, which brought with it a magnification of her own telepathic abilities. But it was the silence that was truly difficult to adjust to; generally Lysithea's telepathy brought with it a kind of low drone, as the hive mind of her people swelled like a tide through her mind. This was the first time she had been free of it, alone with her mindreading, and she quickly found it rather pleasant. There was still the usual morass of feelings and thoughts and half formed concepts floating up her spine like so much sea foam, but without the pressure of her entire race bearing down upon her mind, Lysithea found it all so much... clearer.

'You like? I've never had to block out a hive mind before,' Dulcimer said.

'Yeah, yeah... that's good,' The Trine-form's voice trembled, as for the first time in her life she could focus completely on the mental shapes around her; specifically, the physical sensations emanating from the building across the road. Though she couldn't tell precisely what was going on inside this house of ill repute, she certainly knew that the employees within knew their jobs very well; the place was awash with pleasure, flooded with the kind of delicious, burning desires that Lysithea had once been paid to provide for others. It was at once familiar and strange.

'This brings back memories,' The Trine-form found herself grinning, her mind going back to that floating brothel on Theros, her home and the home of her employers for several years. Time was, she would have been in the thick of this, acting as the conduit between different entities, a bridge of pleasure enfolding and enhancing the experience for all manner of paying customers. It might have seemed seedy from the outside looking in, but Lysithea had always found it highly rewarding work. 

If Sander hadn't been attempting something that had never before been accomplished in history, she probably would still be doing it.

She became aware, gradually, of just how uncomfortable all this was making Sally and Lorna. She couldn't really blame them for that; from their position what she and Dulcimer were doing probably seemed very strange. After all, they were just sitting on the brick rim of a garden bed, twitching occasionally and soaking in the good feelings suffusing the air around them. There was no way that the two human girls could feel the same thing.

Yet.

'Oh my. Dulcimer, we're being rude,' The Trine-form laid a pale hand on Dulsie's shoulder, directing her attention to the shifting, nervous gazes of Lorna and Sally. 'Hardly good behavior for a host, letting our guests sit unattended while we... ahem, mentally masturbate.'

'Ah. Yes, I suppose you're right,' Dulcimer sent, allowing an odd sense of amusement filter into her thoughts. 'Besides, it would certainly be more entertaining to let the pretty things in on the process, don't you think? Kind of a local fix...'

Without warning, the Dullahan reached out, and Lysithea followed her lead, each taking hold of one of the human girls momentarily; the contact was little more than a tap, but its effects were highly dramatic. One touch was all it took; neither Lorna nor Sally had been trained in psychic defense, and it was the work of a moment for the more experience aliens to tap into their minds, sharing the second-hand sensations that they themselves were feeling. 

The effect was dizzying, as it burst through the entirety of Lorna's body, making the muscles of her abdomen tighten reflexively, her form hunching inward defensively. Beside her, Sally did similar, gasping loudly as her entire physicality was expanded in an instant, doubled up, tripled, multiplied countless times by the myriad writhing, pulsing human forms beyond. The former soldier found her hips moving before she could even take it all in, swaying to the rhythm of an unknown number of partners between her legs, even if by proxy. Her mind rendered each touch, each stroke or caress, a whirlwind of fingers and tongues and... other parts, over every inch of her body.

'Oh my god!' Sally's voice trembled incessantly, and she gasped for breath, face red and eyes unfocused. The psychic link enjoining the four of them had clearly hit her the hardest; Lorna wasn't far behind, but at least she had been provided some level of psychic awareness from the Silence. The Earth girl simply had no way of knowing what was happening to her, let alone have any way to curtail the outer extremities of its impact. 

'Quite a feeling, isn't it?' Lysithea shifted her weight as, inside the building, someone must have reached climax, a ripple of pleasure pushing through the foursome in sequence, sweeping from aliens to humans over their shared telepathic bridge. 'Hey Dulsie, care to take a walk? This is most entertaining, but I can't help feeling we could find a greater variety of fun. It's out there, I can tell.'

'Oh yes, I'm catching the outer edge of some of it,' Dulcimer replied. 'Little fine traceries. We could find a lot of fun, in this city.'

'Ooh,' Lysithea exhaled a tiny sound of pleasure, as whatever was happening inside the brothel reached some form of peak. She stood, offering her arm to the Dullahan, 'Then let us go, Miss Heskelyn. The rest of the Arcology awaits.'

Dulcimer bore up under the cacophony of feeling with far more grace than the others in her group; while Sally shivered and seemed to flinch at every new sense message that battered her, and Lorna mewled quietly at each new spasm between her legs, the Dullahan stood staunchly, tall and unearthly in the artificial light. For an entity with no facial features and hence no way of displaying emotion- visibly, at least- Lysithea found the slender alien somewhat beautiful. But then, she could hear the humming melody of her thoughts, of course. 

There was something undeniably... neat, about Dullahan telepathy. 

The four of them walked at a slow pace, the aliens' feet swinging, soaking up the very essence of the populace. It was easy to tell, simply from the sheer volume of sensory data the foursome were receiving, that they were heading inward, toward the center of the district. 

Into the heart of this aroused and lustful city.

*************

'Are you sure you're ready to leave?' Mara couldn't help but allow her emotions to show on her face; mostly sympathy, but she feared there was more pity there than she wanted.

'Yeah,' Sander replied, sighing to himself. 'There's nothing for me here now. Just dust and bad memories. We got the only thing we needed from this place.'

Despite his words, the tall man stood at the edge of the shuttle's boarding ramp for a moment, unwilling to turn to face his long abandoned home, yet at the same moment unable to properly leave it. This place was a symbol of everything he had lost, but... it was also the last marker of what he had once been. This wasn't just the memorial to the Hackett family, it was the grave marker of an idealistic, happy and deeply in love young man called Sander Hackett. That man was gone, and in his place was something... 

Better? Worse? 

Either way, he could still have ideals, be happy, and love. It was just all in the shadow of that one day on Vesperia, when the Doctor had come calling. 

Off in the distance, something barked.

'Wait...' Sander's eyes widened, he strained his ears, hoping to hear the sound again. And he did, this time a little louder than before. 'Is that...?'

Whatever was making the sound was on the move, and as the sound persisted, it shifted up the side of the house, the eventual pounding of extremely heavy feet being added to the noise. And then, it appeared, bursting out onto the lawn, making a beeline for Sander.

'Naga?!' 

Though he couldn't help but grin wider than he had in a long time, Sander knew better than to run up to the immense mass of fur that rapidly approached. Though he wouldn't mean to, it would definitely smack into him if he didn't let the giant thing come to a stop on his own terms. Which he did do, skidding to a stop before Sander and an increasingly shocked Mara and Amy.

'I didn't think you'd still be here, Naga,' Sander tried to seem casual as he approached, but he couldn't suppress his almost boyish joy as he got closer. 'Interface been feeding you?'

Naga was an immense- almost double the height of Sander himself- dog, close to a wolfhound in appearance, with mottled grey fur and eyes only for Sander. His size alone was enough to denote his alien ancestry, but even if it hadn't been the large crystalline structures along his back were a dead giveaway. Blue to the core and threaded with bright yellow, the crystal spikes jutted from his shoulders and down his spine, growing smaller as they reached the tail. He also had a rather intimidating looking horn, to match teeth that Amy did not want to get any closer to. 

'Sander, what is that?' Mara asked flatly.

'It's Naga!' He grinned back. 'He's been with my family for ages!'

'Is he... like a family pet?'

Naga growled. Mara took a step back.

'He's not a pet,' Sander frowned. 'Naga's smart. He's more like... an associate.'

'Are you fucking with me right now?' Mara narrowed her eyes.

'We're taking him with us,' Sander said sagely. 

'Yeah, of course, why not?' 

'Hey, can you not see the advantage of having a guy with teeth big enough to bite a certain Time Lord in half, should he show up?' Sander sounded a tad defensive, but he already knew he would win this argument; he was the one with the money, after all. 'Besides, he's a Synthallisk. Psychic super-wolf. How is that not awesome?'

Mara opened her mouth to speak, before realizing just how pointless that would be. Leaving aside the simple knowledge that the man with the cash would always win, the simple fact was... yeah, Naga looked pretty interesting.

Besides, there was an infinitesimal, almost invisible, glint of desperation in Sander's eyes; a need to bring this enormous quadruped with them. Sander had always been most at home surrounded by strays- Ren and Dulcimer and Tsugi and even Mara herself were proof of that- but this... Naga was different. More than just a childhood friend, this was Sander scrabbling for what might be the last thread of his past left to him. 

She could see the affinity between the two at a glance; who was she to deny him this?

'You have to feed him,' She relented, pointing.

****************

'You're hiding things from me,' Lysithea sent, directing the thought privately to the Dullahan beside her. Emphasizing the mental walls the faceless alien had erected around her mind seemed like the kind of thing one discussed in private.

'I'm hiding things from everybody,' Dulsie sent back. 'No offense.'

'None taken, I'm hiding things too. But do you have to be so... obvious, about it? There's an etiquette to these things,' Lysithea couldn't help but look over, even though eye contact was pointless in many different ways, when it came to Dulcimer. Perhaps the Dullahan simply didn't have the same social mores about their telepathy that the Trine had; all her life Lysithea had been taught that it was the height of rudeness to telegraph her mental blockades. The point was not to have no secrets, but to operate in such a way as to make it seem that way. In Trine communication, such things were like landmines, or possibly barbed wire; anyone passing within mental range could possibly alight upon one without meaning to, subjecting themselves to a nasty burst of static, as they were rejected. 

But Dulcimer had no such qualms about jamming, rather than simply hiding, her innermost thoughts; cool, onyx walls of thought surrounded the deeper parts of her psyche, shimmering implacably when Lysithea even drew close, let alone tried to probe deeper. Not that she ever would... But right after she finished speaking, the Dullahan's blocks simply faded away, as if in response. No new thoughts surfaced, the walls simply melted away, completely hidden with a moment's thought. The effect was quite shocking; just how powerful were the Dullahan?

'Better?' Dulcimer sent, without a hint of petulance. 'How are the girls doing?'

The truth was, not so well. It wasn't hard to see. Though the pair of humans tried to keep things together for the sake of appearances, they simply didn't have the level of practice in sense-sharing that the aliens of the group did. Nothing in their- very different- lives had prepared them for this; being buffeted in an ocean of second hand sensations, each step bringing something new, some other wash of feeling to swirl through them, staying for as long as it liked before it faded. 

Some were strong enough to almost make Sally's knees buckle. Others were slight, uneasy traceries of touch, trailing tickling lines over her skin before vanishing almost as suddenly as they had come upon her. All were positional, and had individual shape and form; one step might yield the feeling of orgasm washing over her hips, vanishing in the next step to be replaced by the unmistakable feeling of a tongue running down from her navel. This would combine with a kind of hot pressure against her thighs; Sally wondered who, out there in one of the buildings in her immediate surrounds, was straddling something. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 25



Each block was a new symphony of sensations, a roaring, chaotic morass of licking and kissing and cumming and... other things, that Sally didn't have a name for. Most likely alien things; these were the ones that turned her muscles to jelly and made her feel like she would keel over. But she never did, because everything she felt was disconnected from her physicality; she would experience a level of clit-numbing pleasure that she had never felt before, that only grazed her, without ever sinking in. Unbidden, her arousal rose... but there was no hope of release here, she knew. 

Having sex without being touched, it turned out, was nothing much like having sex at all.

The deeper they ventured into the district, the more vivid and complex the feelings became. If Lysithea and Dulcimer knew why that was, or what they were walking into, they kept it to themselves, their expressions only showing how deeply they had immersed themselves in the connection they had made with the city. Even if they cared at all about Sally or Lorna's opinions on all this, there would simply be no way to dissuade them from staying here; they were having too much fun, that was obvious.

Lorna got the feeling that something was coming, the further they got into the district. Though as a rule she avoided places like this, even during her shore leave, she was familiar enough with how they operated. Her fellow soldiers talked, after all; she recalled their leave on Lyria, watching the backs of the rest of her squad as they disappeared into the red light district there. The stuff they had talked about afterward had been... intriguing, in a dark kind of way. There were places like that on every planet, filled with sex and danger in equal measure. And she was heading right into the heart of it now, connected through her skin and her nerves and her mind to every throbbing, pulsing part of it. 

And the worst part was that the city's prurient fingers could reach right into her core with such ease... This wasn't the kind of thing she thought could even touch her, let alone caress. But she was so wet, swollen and aching between her legs in a way that was so different to the enforced, unwanted pleasure that her kidnappers had given her by their own hands. This was pleasure without a close source, a multitude of experiences burning through her moment by moment; it was hard enough to simply get a lock on each one, let alone concentrate. She was assaulted by it all, barely able to register one blow of sensation before the next was hitting her unawares. 

The streets were well maintained and orderly, such a contrast to the way Lorna and Sally felt inside. All around them were people, traversing the streets with a uniform kind of directness and alacrity, trying to get from one establishment to the next in the shortest amount of time, all in an attempt to maximize their time within the warm, possibly sticky, confines of Selestene's red light district. Even with the attention of all around on other things, the girls couldn't help but feel exposed, watched on all sides by ranks of eyes, judged in the extreme. 

Could they see the trembling of Sally's thighs as she walked? Did they notice the blush in Lorna's cheeks? What did they see, in that case? Just two more women in the district, in transit between carnal acts? Or did the collars around their necks color the perceptions of the people around them? Did they see slaves? Or something more... prurient?

Why did that even matter, when the ghosts of a thousand fuckings wafted through them moment to moment?

Even with all of that, the two captives were unprepared for experiencing what was going on in the next building. It hit them in a wave, large and solid, like a brick wall sweeping through them. Sally's walking pace skipped a step, and she staggered to a stop, a gasp tearing its way out of her throat as her entire body lit up. This time, it wasn't just sex. Oh, there was sex present, in the same way that drowning contains the basic elements of swimming. There was an orgasm... but it wasn't wanted. 

There was sexual pleasure, far and away the most intense the four of them had experienced today. But it was threaded with something else, impurities in the sensation that made the eyes water and the limbs shake. Something that encouraged flight, gave the girls in collars a desperate need to run, even more so than usual. Though her legs near buckled and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, Sally's heart thudded in her chest as, past the sheer, inescapable ecstasy of her second-hand climax, she felt the purest essence of despair.

Certain knowledge filled her: this was what it meant to be a slave here in the future.

If that had been the end of it, if that single sensation was all that had occurred, it would have been bad enough. But they weren't just near to one slave, forced into their service. No, as it turned out, there were many. One of the nearby buildings must have been committed to that purpose; men and women and humans and aliens, all captured and forced into service, all being used against their will in an outer space whorehouse. 

And all being forced to enjoy it...

The cacophony was stunning, almost blinding, and it caused Sally to rock back on her heels as if she had been physically struck. Lorna stumbled too, although she was more capable of catching herself, and even the pair of aliens had stopped walking to investigate further. The focus of their telepathy moved over the source of the disturbance, and Sally collapsed.

It was all too much. Simply having the storming, agonized pleasure as an ambient pressure had driven her to distraction, but when Lysithea and Dulcimer had focused in, every sobbing, bucking orgasm had become sharper and more defined. A succession of tongues and fingers and toys and... other body parts ran over their skin with ghostly precision, bringing off countless unconnected bodies. As the connection stuck, focused in like a rifle scope, it got stronger, more vivid; voices began to bubble up through the skin of the world around them, cold and taunting or frightened and despairing. Either the tormentors or the tormented, it was sometimes hard to tell. The words were indistinct, given the sheer number of them happening at once. It soon became deafening.

But then came the visions, and all else became so much sensory chaff, compared to their complete, overwhelming stress. A multitude of other worlds tore their way into the girls' sight, as if the ground beneath her trembling, kneeling form had opened up and revealed... the kind of sexual hell they couldn't even name. 

Bodies struggling, so many they actually blurred into one another, hundreds- thousands- of bucking, sweating forms of all shapes and sizes, restrained in more ways than Sally could conceive of, tormented by...

Oh god...

Figures, some concealed in shadow, some dreadfully exposed, all undeniably awful, twisted and monstrous within the perceptions of their captives, all tongues and fingers and whips and machines- both familiar and alien, working to torment the nerves of the throng of slaves, burning in climax for their cruel masters. The soul of Selestene's slave culture, laid bare for Sally and Lorna to see. The city, forced into orgasm and injected directly into their veins.

Convulsing, dripping, aching, powerful... Climax to the point of catatonia, raping their senses...

And then it stopped. 

How long had it lasted? Sally gasped for breath, heart slamming painfully hard in her chest, entire body shaking like a leaf. She became vaguely aware of Lorna in the same position, folded in on herself with prayers like shattered glass bursting from her lips. But Lysithea and Dulcimer had barely moved, stuck just slightly out of the position she had last seen them in, like the world had skipped a frame of animation. She found herself thankful that there was nobody else on the street, but the evidence she had could only lead her to conclude that it had only been a moment or two since the world had turned upside down on her. How could that be?

It had felt like an eternity, trapped, connected to the beating heart of Selestene's criminal underbelly, chained to... whatever that was. The aliens seemed unconcerned, but to even touch that madness had affected the captives deeply. Was that what awaited the two of them, on this "vacation?"

'Sorry about that,' Lysithea did look somewhat concerned, to her credit. 'You see something out the corner of your eye, you look... it's the same thing with telepathy. It can get a bit overwhelming to newbies. You two alright?'

'This city...' Lorna panted, still recovering. Her voice was filled with mounting disgust, 'It has a fleshworks.'

Sally stared. Of course, she had no way of knowing what the word meant, but the utter contempt with which Lorna had spat it out left her with no doubt that it was bad news. And frankly, after having spent any amount of time wired up to it, she was inclined to agree; that was a place of suffering, and there was no way anything good could ever come out of it.

Even so... Sally could feel the wetness seeping into her underwear. Unsettling though her most recent experience might have been, she no longer felt pent up, her frustration had vanished; as those other poor souls had suffered, she came. And it was easy to see that Lorna had too.

What did that say about the two of them?

'Yes, I suppose it does,' Dulcimer sent, more curious about the prospect than anything else. With her telepathic prowess and general psychic constitution, she supposed she must be the preferred kind of customer at such a place. The thought intrigued, 'I suspect it would be for select clients, though. I wonder if Sander knows about it.'

Looking over, Sally could see that the very idea filled Lorna with dread. Though she had no idea of what a fleshworks entailed, the simple fact of Lorna's reaction led Sally to follow; if Sander knew about it, was that why he planned to come here in the first place?

'Oh, don't give us that look,' Lysithea broke into their stunned reverie. 'Sander's probably not that cruel. Without reason, anyway.'

Lorna found herself wondering what kind of a reason Sander would even need. After all, his run in with the Doctor had apparently been reason enough to excise a group of people from the fabric of time itself, many of them having very little to do with the Doctor in the first place. And before that, thirteen years of planning for it, not to mention the development and construction of the kind of machines that could turn society on its head if they were ever made generally available. Sander struck her as the kind of person who didn't need much of a reason to do anything.

Or rather, the kind of person who stuck with one reason for everything, no matter how extreme everything became.

Regardless, one thing had been proven; this place was not one to be trifled with. And, by extension, their captors were not to be trifled with while they were here. One wrong move, one irritation too many on their nerves, and any one of their fellow hostages could end up... well, possibly anywhere.

'Perhaps we might have... overdone things somewhat,' Dulcimer sent. Part of the trick, when communicating telepathically, was in all the things one didn't say; white lies were exceedingly hard to tell when you were communicating directly, mind to mind. Dulcimer was better at it than most, but the thoughtful pause in her sentence still throbbed with indistinct, unsaid words, most of them far stronger than what she had actually said, 'They aren't used to being linked up like this.'

'Oh come on,' Lysithea grinned. 'You think I don't know how to modulate that on newbies? Remember, I worked for Nirvana for the longest time, every day I saw newcomers to all this. If I really wanted to overdo it, I'd do this...'

And with that, she reached out, milky white palms brushing Sally and Lorna's foreheads-

And the world changed.

Reality melted like wax, colors running together as depth and distance fell away, slipping into nothingness. But it was replaced a second later, a completely different setting blooming around the girls, bursting to life. It was distinct, but hardly better; a dimly lit room with featureless walls and... chains.

Yes, the chains rather set the context.

Immediately, Sally knew that something was wrong. She was moving without physically beginning the action, squirming and struggling against the bonds anchoring her to the ceiling without ever consciously doing so. Of course, she quickly joined her independent body, struggling with panicked strength against her sudden bondage. The feeling was odd; even united in the same purpose, her body didn't move in quite the same way as she was attempting...

'Sally?' It was Lorna's voice, but somehow distant. It echoed, yet it seemed to contain no physical position at all. Faraway and close, all at the same time. The sound climbed her spine, even as it arched to gain additional leverage against her bonds, 'Sally, can you hear me?'

Sally's mouth wouldn't open, but at that point eyes that wouldn't obey her were looking down, far enough for her to see the truth; this was not her body. It was naked, and she could feel the cool air on its skin, but the contours were all wrong. Sally was not herself, and she hazarded a guess that she was sharing this form with Lorna, somehow. 

Whatever that alien had done, she had a lot of explaining to do...

Of course, even knowing what she did now, Sally had no idea how she could respond to Lorna's questioning. Really, she couldn't even ascertain the extent to which she and the Gamma girl were inhabiting this new body; were they simply hitchhiking in their host's sensory experiences, or did it go deeper?

Could their host be aware of their presence?

Any hope of keeping those questions stable and viable in her mind- or what passed for it in this telepathically transcendent state- vanished, as in the physical room their host occupied, another figure loomed out of the shadows that welled deeply in the corners of the room. Sally could feel the fear her body experienced at the mere sight of him, and she could see why; the figure was not human.

However it did seem to be... wearing a rough approximation of humanity. It had limbs, and a face, and hair and teeth and everything that a human being should have, only every individual part seemed to be just that: parts. The individual features didn't unite into a whole; the eyes didn't even blink together. And it seemed to take a lot of concentration for the creature to move its parts even with that level of synchronicity.

And when it spoke...

'You continue to disappoint me,' It said, in a voice like a thunderstorm, one that certainly didn't befit the feminine form it inhabited. Sally's second-hand fear only increased, and she found herself backing away from the figure, as much as her bonds would allow. It wasn't nearly far enough.

'I do not take to disappointment well, especially from my purchases, girl,' It continued levelly. That rumbling, terrifying voice betrayed no sense of emotion- Sally wasn't even sure that it could- but the whip coiled around its hand certainly did. She shrank away, as that very same whip uncoiled pointedly, 'I bought you from a company that doesn't accept refunds, girl. So the task falls to me to mold you into what I require... or break you in the process.'

It moved closer, and for the first time Sally could see the hollow aspect of its eyes, and she knew, immediately; this body had nothing truly in it. Whatever intelligence was guiding it might as well be on the other side of the world, because it was certainly not here with them; those eyes were nothing more than cameras. From what Sally could tell- and this was difficult, given her own general lack of physical form- Lorna was less surprised, though no less disturbed. It seemed the Gamma girl had a better idea of what was going on, but... could she ask? Should she, or would that just be another distraction, right now?

'And believe me,' It continued, glassy eyes staring. 'I am fine with breaking you.'

One lifeless arm raised, and Sally's shared body reared back, unable to escape the scything reach of the whip. It laid a line of pain down her chest, from shoulder to ribcage, across the left breast. The sensation was all too real, radiating out across her skin; her mouth opened in a high, wailing scream, Lorna's voice joining with Sally's inside the host's head. True fear filled Sally's- somewhat insubstantial, at the moment- mind, as the consequences of being here, in this moment, experiencing this. Worse, it was all so uncertain. 

The outer limits of this experience were completely unknown; what would happen to her and Lorna in the end? What happens to them if they stay, and watch this unknown unfortunate break? To what extent did the injuries this sadly nameless slave reflect upon the hitchhikers in her head? The very thought sickened Sally to her core.

The whip came down, time and again, running new tracks of pain across vulnerable flesh, each one dragging Sally down, mooring her in the sensations of the body, a cage of skin and bones she ached to escape. The creature cloaked in human form gave no quarter, seemingly unaware of mercy, it brought a cruel accuracy to its strikes, but, as things wore on, the feeling began to change...

Sally felt it first, barely believing what she was experiencing; a gentle warmth began to radiate out from the core of her being, dripping wetness following from her most vulnerable parts. To her host, the moment had taken on a sick sort of eroticism, violence transmuted into something arcane and sexual. Escape, the only way she knew how...

There was a fleeting moment of empathy, through the fear, the near bone chilling panic; Sally had only just got here, but the body she was in, this anonymous girl... she had been through this all alone. Hell, for all Sally knew, the slave's weird arousal wasn't an escape for her at all; perhaps she had just been trained to associate pain with pleasure. Perhaps this was all engineered, and her agency had well and truly vanished however long ago...

Before anything further could happen, the world snapped away from her, as if she had been ripped away from it by a hook in her spine. Seconds ticked by, and Sally was subject to an incredible, dizzying sense of disconnect, as though the universe was free-floating and unfettered, and she was experiencing it with nothing between her and it, no skin to separate her from reality. 

It took her a moment to realize that the hands she stared at when she looked down were her own. 

Across the way, Lorna was having the same kind of issue, her body shaking and twitching in ways that couldn't possibly have been intentional. But there was fear in those eyes, when they finally chanced to connect with Sally's own gaze. They quavered in between reality and dreams for a second more, before settling more fully into their flesh, returning to the bodies that had borne them their entire lives.

'Lysithea!' Dulsie sent, telepathy crackling with surprised anger. 'We were just talking about limits!'

'I missed,' The Trine-form stepped away, the fingers of both hands tapping an agitated rhythm in the palms of her hands. 'Or aimed wrong. Or something. I didn't mean to send them where I did...'

'What did you do?' Dulcimer's awareness swung around to the two captives, as she checked them for any negative symptoms of their time out in the collective unconscious. 'I couldn't see it, obviously. Where did they go?'

'Somewhere... bad,' Lysithea's features arranged themselves into a rare frown, eyes betraying her inner disturbance. 'Not long enough to cause any damage, but... Maybe we need to be more careful in this city than we have been.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 25



Silence followed, Dulcimer's irritation rising as it became apparent that her friend wasn't going to volunteer any more information. Briefly, she considered just brute forcing her way into Lysithea's mind and shuffling through her short-term memories like a deck of cards. It would have been well within her power to do so, and in this case possibly even justified; she decided against it only by dint of the fact that it would turn one problem into two. What she found out wouldn't be worth having to deal with the Trine-form's anger at the violation. Besides, Sally and Lorna seemed to be recovering alright...

'I want to go back,' Lysithea said finally. 'Suddenly, being out here isn't fun anymore. Come on, let's go...'

************

Naga's reappearance had rather altered Sander's plans for the day. The alien's large stature precluded returning to Nirvana via the shuttle they had arrived in; a larger form of transport would be needed. Luckily, Selestene was nothing if not obliging, and it was the work of but a moment for Sander to hail a high-ceilinged transport ship to ferry the lupine creature to a more accessible location.

After speaking with the pilot and technician of this new ship- no doubt preparing them for one of Naga's somewhat rare breed- he returned to Amy and Mara, giving one last look to the house he grew up in.

'You thinking of blowing the place up, Hackett?' Mara asked, inspecting the man for any sign of instability and, oddly, finding very little. Leaving that house, even if only to stand in its shadow, seemed to have lessened the pressure on him; the ghosts of his past couldn't reach him, out here under the false sky. 

'No, I'm not,' There was, however, a note of testiness in his voice at that. 'I just... this place. It isn't just mine, is it? Maybe I should call Cohen, let him know the old house is still standing...'

'He might appreciate that,' Mara said. 'But then again, I dunno. That guy, he's never really seemed to be that sentimental. I mean, you tell me one time he's gotten serious about anything, because I can't remember one.'

'I'll tell him,' Sander nodded. 'It's up to him what he does with the information.'

'And what do happens after that?' Amy piped up finally, after keeping her peace for so long. All she knew was that she had a better than average chance of disliking the answer, 'You've gotten what you want, so what now?' 

Sander gave her an odd look, as though the answer should have been obvious, before checking his watch. The nighttime transition was still a few hours away, plenty of time to make it back to the hotel and prepare to emerge into Selestene's nightlife, and face that gloomy, neon-lit wonder of a city head on. He had lived here for years, and even he didn't fully understand what was out there, though of course he had heard plenty of rumors about the extent of it all. For the newcomers, it should be quite the experience.

'What do you mean?' He smiled. 'It's a vacation, isn't it? What happens now?'

Well... he had his crew, he had his money, and now he had his telepathic alien guard dog...

'Now we find out what Selestene really has to offer us.'

To be continued... 



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 26



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey gang, I'm back, and earlier this time. I'm trying to speed up the writing process for this thing, and it's coming along pretty well, so keep watching, you'll see more from me soon. Other than that, I hope y'all enjoy, and see fit to let me know what you think at the end of it all!

Kurokami

*****************

Tsugi leaned against the sky, feeling an abiding sense of peace for the first time in a long time.

At first, the thought troubled him; exactly how long had it been since he had properly felt at peace with his situation? A little perspective reminded him that it was often hard to retain a calm life when in the middle of a secret war with a living god who's on the warpath. He had chosen this, after all; what right did he have to complain about it now?

Especially with Kanaria here. 

There was a cordon sectioning off the edge of the city, presumably running in a ring around the entire dome. Beyond that lay the foundations of the skybox, the screen extending all the way down to the ground, projecting a false horizon in picture perfect clarity. Tsugi had jumped a lot of barricades in his youth, and this one was no different; he had even gotten to act the gentleman and help Kana over it too. They sat side by side in the hologram, sinking into it up to the shoulders. Looking over, Tsugi watched the light play over her; from this perspective it looked as though she was engulfed in sunlight, a little slice of a bright summer day. She blushed when she caught him staring.

'Tsugi, do you ever get worried?' She ventured, breaking the peaceful silence. 'About all of this, I mean.'

'Sort of. It's not something I'm used to, anyway. Not just the plans, and the big cities and stuff, but... see, I'm used to little backrooms and screens. I'm just a tech guy,' He said. 'But I get the feeling you had something different in mind.'

'Sander,' Kana said. 

'Ah,' The topic was an uncomfortable one. Anyone could see that the boss man had been making some questionable decisions lately, taking a quartet of hostages out into an open, uncontrolled environment being the least of them, but at the same time he was still a friend. But there came a point, when reality-rending technology was on the fritz and a renegade Time Lord was out for blood, that friendship stopped being sufficient to make Tsugi hold his tongue. 

Sander wasn't just representing himself anymore; his decisions could end up being life or death for the rest of his crew, to say nothing of Amy and the girls, and a good chunk of the surrounding solar system should the Eternity Engine go into meltdown. Questions needed to be asked.

'I get why he's doing this,' Kanaria hastened to add. 'At least, I get one reason why. It's nice that he wants us to relax, I just wonder if it's the right time for it. Especially after...'

She trailed off, but Tsugi ended up looking at the scar curving around her throat anyway. The dents and bruises that the crew had suffered weren't going to go away with some new scenery and nice hotel rooms. At times it seemed like Sander was just trying to spackle over a far more serious issue than he realized existed. 

The can of worms was open now; they would never again be able to pretend that they were entirely safe in their work. The worst part was that they all knew that as bad as Walker had been, he paled in comparison to the Doctor, that nightmare riding in, all fire and ice. Frankly, it was miraculous Sander had survived the last time.

'We've trusted him so far,' Tsugi said. 'And he's never led us astray before.'

'He's never really had the opportunity to,' Kanaria replied. 'This is the first time we've ever been in a position to fail.'

'And we...' He stopped. He had been about to say that they had gotten out of it okay. Stupid. He tried again, 'We all got out of that alive.'

'Barely,' She said. 

The silence that followed was speculative and also short-lived, as a few moments into it a chime rang out through the air, tinny and small but unmistakable. The call had been made to both of them at once, but Tsugi got to his holo-pad first, summoning the resulting little hologram of Sander into the air above it.

'You need to come home,' It said, diminutive, insubstantial hands sliding into the depths of its holographic pockets. 'Before it gets dark. Kanaria's with you, that's good. But the nighttime transition is when things get dicey on the streets unless you have the correct identification programs. I do, you don't, so... hurry.'

'What kind of dicey are we talking about here, boss?' Tsugi shifted uncomfortably, mind suddenly filled with all sorts of strange, worrisome possibilities. He had heard all about Sander's time on Theros during his first attempt at this, after all; he knew the boss' holiday destinations could be quite aggressive to newcomers. 

'The kind of dicey that one should be in a group of more than two to avoid,' Sander said. 'Come on, I've got something fun in mind anyway. I booked ahead and everything.'

With a luminous little wink, the hologram faded out, as Sander disconnected the call. With a sigh, Tsugi got to his feet, mouth curving into a helpless, not-all-the-way-positive smile.

'We can be worried all we want,' He said. 'But in the end, we always come when he calls...'

***************

An hour later, the night transition had swept the light from the sky and the city itself had replaced it from below, a series of pulsing, writhing veins of light rising up from the ground like the roots of some immense neon tree. Selestene became filled with nightlife, burning with hedonism and lust and a haze of chemically altered mental states. 

And it was into this city that Sander Hackett's group had set out.

Somewhat ominously, Sander had enhanced the security of the group long before heading out. At his word, Ren had been stuck close to Christina, with Dulcimer providing guard duty for Lorna, though Mara opted to stick close to her own private project as well, for obvious reasons. Sally stuck close to Tsugi and Kanaria, subconsciously keeping herself nearest to the most normal looking humans in the group. It made sense; the newly formed couple hadn't done anything to Miss Sparrow yet.

Yet.

Of course, this left Amy walking side by side with Sander, occasionally reaching up to finger the lining of her brand new collar plating. That had been a somewhat scary prospect; through her time with Sander, Amy had almost learned to completely ignore the Collar around her neck. It was there, an ever present weight keeping her attached to the dark-haired man and his crew, but for the most part, the thin little ring had become like background noise. One wasn't aware of every strand of hair, after all.

But Sander's modification of the captive's Collars had brought the damnable device back to the forefront of her mind. After a few minutes work- without so much as unlocking the Collar from around her neck first- Amy had been able to view the modifications in the nearest mirror. The formerly glittering silver had been covered by thin, deep red plates, segmented by black bands that, judging from the unevenness of the pattern, must communicate something in some language Amy wasn't familiar with. Though initially cold to the touch, the moment Amy's fingers pressed against the new plates, something moved beneath them, and quickly heated up, though not unbearably so. 

Newly outfitted, they walked through the streets, orbiting around Sander as though he were a center of gravity and, as a consequence, around Amy too. The talking, lively retinue moved through an increasingly crowded set of streets; the average person on the ground was human, though the occasional alien could be seen moving through the throng. In some ways it reminded Amy more of her time on the Starship UK, as opposed to any of the multitude of alien worlds; this was a place informed by humans and human culture, almost exclusively. Even Theros, as terrible as that place had been, had a patchwork of future and alien cultural artifacts threaded through the infrastructure of the planet. But this was a little, encapsulated piece of Earth.

And Amy was here as a slave...

Their path led them underground, down a wide staircase and past a number of softly glowing screens, depicting a series of shifting patterns that, although nonsensical, were oddly enticing. Though he watched Amy staring, to Sander the artifice of this place was all too obvious; the Olivan club was one big psychological trap, built to draw you into its dimly lit, neon-girded maw, and to keep you there. The architecture was designed to make you want to go in and, for the kind of person who knew what actually went on inside... that view was entirely justified.

Loci built for entertainment- the kinds in which Sander would spend all his time, if he had his way- all had places like the Olivan; clubs or shops or meeting places that were all but unknown by the masses, but highly respected, and hence patronized, by those in the know. The select clientele of these places kept it to themselves, so their little treasure trove remained pure and uncrowded; Sander was sure that his crew would be the first newcomers in a few months, at least. But that would be fine; the Olivan had no membership criterion, nor conditions of entry. If you could find the place, and know enough about it to want to be let in, you could.

Of course, once you had, you had to deal with Fiori...

Getting in was simple, but the Olivan had rules like any other club, and the first rule there was simple: what Fiori says, goes. Fiori is your god. You fear Fiori, or he would be happy to give you a reason to.

Sander shot a meaningful look to the bouncers- a pair of Ogrons in ill-fitting suits- and his group was allowed entrance to the club floor itself. The trick was to project confidence like a spotlight; of course I'm meant to be here, are you? 

In all honesty, a part of him was surprised to see Fiori atop his little dais at the far end of the room; Sander had sort of expected someone would have bumped him off his throne by now. An ignoble little death with an unmarked grave would have suited him, really. Instead, Sander found that the years had transformed the once bright and unhinged founder of the Olivan into a middle-aged man, content to watch over his little slice of the world like a king. Sander supposed he was, really; within these four walls at least, Fiori was the law. 

They used to say that he had built this place in a day, constructed it around the wreckage of some other now anonymous nightlife lord's empire. They used to say he had toppled his predecessor from the same throne he himself now sat upon. They used to say Fiori never left the Olivan. 

They still said Fiori Kamui was unbeatable.

Sander couldn't say whether the Olivan King was now bald by choice, or whether his genetic manipulations hadn't extended to hair retention, but what he could say was that the man had been able to pull it off well. He looked downright imposing, lording over his dominion with the air of one entirely confident in his surrounds even breaking through the strobing lights and thumping music of the club around him.

Sander knew better than to point him out directly, but he inclined his head toward Fiori before his group could spread out too far, 'Be careful of him. He runs the joint, so try not to get on his bad side. Ren, that goes double for you.'

'Why me?' The Half asked defensively.

'Because I'd like to get through this without witnessing a massacre,' Sander said. 'And if you two get into it... well, I dunno who'd win.'

'I'm liking this guy already,' Ren grinned.

This was how things worked here. Selestene was prime real estate, and in an area that had relaxed its laws, to boot. Profit ruled; those who wanted it enough would seek out a way to carve out a piece of it from the arcology's breast, by force if necessary. The land here was limited, and little backroom scuffles broke out over it with some regularity; everyone needed something, they didn't much care who gave it to them. Selestene bought up those who could do it best, and let the others fend for themselves.

The impact the Hackett family had left on the city meant that Sander never had to worry about that; the Hacketts were above it all, so long as robots bearing their seal still patrolled the walls of the Arcology. Anyone arraying themselves against Hackett Industries would have a very hard time, attacking, as they were, the sword that defended the city.

Sander left his crew to their own devices, heading straight to the bar. There was, of course, an automated service panel built into each of the tables and booths that dotted the club, but sometimes the personal touch was required. After all, there were many things that, for legal reasons, did not appear on the Olivan's official inventory. 

The bartender was human, though just barely; Sander could see the extensive modifications rippling under the surface of the man. There was a glint in his eyes that was surely mechanical, and most likely connected to the Olivan's surveillance network; Sander felt a strange urge to wave. 

In a low voice, speaking only to be picked up by the bartender's undoubtedly enhanced hearing, he ordered for his entire group, hoping in the back of his mind that the club still worked the same way as it had during his last visit, all those years ago. Some nights he still got jerked into wakefulness by dreams of that day, and he was convinced that some of the things he had taken that night were still in his system. He grinned when the man behind the counter nodded in understanding and slipped into the back room.

Minutes later, Sander wound his way through the maze of people and furniture back to his crew, having miraculously not spilled a thing in the process. 

'Ladies and gentlemen, this night just got interesting,' He winked, throwing a bit of theatricality into his demeanor. Perhaps it was unnecessary from a strictly logical point of view- after all, the last thing a wanted criminal like him needed was outside attention- but Sander felt an odd need to flee from the events of the day. Hackett House could stay in the past, where it belonged; he needed to keep looking forward.

His eyes went to Amy, as she eyed the tray of drinks at the center of the table. Her trepidation was palpable, but she reluctantly accepted the glass Sander handed her, downing its contents in the shadow of the knowledge that if she didn't do so willingly she could easily be forced to. Sander grinned, watching as each of the captives did the same after varying lengths of time delaying. Lorna, still so pious, took the longest, but she was seated beside Ren. It was hardly a battle of wills, there.

'So, Sander,' Ren rocked back on her haunches, slowly and deliberately taking a swig from her own glass. 'Approximately speaking, just how spiked are these drinks?'

'It's almost like you've been here before!' Sander grinned. 'Answer is, they are very spiked.'

Silence descended on the table, aside from Ren, who gave a sharp spike of laughter and, as the crew watched, drained her glass with a daring smile. From there, every pair of eyes swiveled to Sander.

'What have you done to us, Hackett?' Mara said slowly.

'Oh, nothing to you guys. Why would I want to fuck with my friends? Now, Amy and the girls, however...' He put an arm around Amy and drew her close. 'They should be feeling the effects pretty soon.'

'Come on, don't you think that's even a little irresponsible, boss?' Tsugi frowned, abandoning his drink in his irritation. 'Just think about where we are!'

'It's just a round of interfacers,' Sander shrugged nonchalantly. 'Nothing major.'

Interfacer drugs had been the natural conclusion of the development of illicit narcotics; a hybridized mix of chemical and machine. The technology had existed for years- the field of medicine had been benefitting from the use of nanogenes for decades- and it had only been a matter of time before someone saw fit to reprogram some. All that remained was to tweak the mix until it was just right.

Essentially a cloud of nanogenes suspended in a synthetic opiate liquid, interfacers had the immediate advantage of not being inherently addictive; the active ingredient was the infinitesimally small robots themselves, there was nothing within the drug itself to become addicted to.

The sensations they caused, on the other hand, often proved highly addictive. 

The nano-cloud still did what it had been created to do; namely, to home in on certain areas of the body to stimulate them. Only the targets had been changed. Interfacer nanogenes headed not to injuries, but directly to the pleasure centers of the brain. Once colonies of the tiny machines had integrated themselves harmlessly into the cranial tissue, they had been instructed to simply await a signal.

And that was where things got clever.

Because the nanogenes didn't just head to the brain; auxiliary colonies would be set up in the auditory and visual nerves, in order to transmit the signal the central colonies were waiting for. The beat of the club's music, and the shine of its lights.

Interfacer drugs were the answer to the problem of keeping patrons within the Olivan for as long as possible. The mechanical cocktail reacted directly to specialized tones in the sights and sounds of the club, pulsing pleasure through every nerve in the body in time with the rhythm. 

They were the perfect carrot, keeping those who took them on the dance floor, buying drinks, buying more drugs, topping up the all too brief runtime of the nanomachines within.

And all the while, the music only pulsed stronger, growing ever faster as the night progressed to an insensible climax. An orgy with sound itself.

Right now, hordes of those same microscopic mechanisms were coursing through the bodies of the hostages. Very soon, they would be finding the music here far, far more pleasant.

Already, Amy's eyes were becoming heavy lidded...

'Ladies and gentlemen, I've set up a tab for us,' Sander took the redhead by the hand and pulled her to her feet. He glanced around surreptitiously, pointing at the club's owner only once he was sure the coast was clear, 'So go nuts. Just... you know, stay away from Fiori. He's dangerous. And keep the companions under guard at all times. Have some fun with them. Don't drop your toys, boys and girls.'

With that, he tugged at Amy's hand, sending them both stumbling into the thronging, writhing mass of the dance floor. Sander had never been much of a dancing person himself, but he had observed Amy at work in her youth, clad in those enticing costumes, paid to strut her stuff among the young men of Leadworth, and occasionally beyond. Subsumed in the sensory fugue of the interfacers, the young woman would undoubtedly find herself falling back into those old patterns, relaxing even in this nest of wasps.

At least, that was the plan.

'What are you doing?' Amy raised her voice over the din of music and countless voices, buffeted by aliens and humans alike. Her skin was awash with the passing spotlights, aflame in neon for a scant moment before fading back into the gloom, only to be illuminated once more. The music beat a heady rhythm from speakers above her head, a thumping electronic beat, strung together with the sinewy, distorted melodies of a violin and shaken by the vibrato thrum of a guitar. 

A constellation of sound filled her up from the top down, dotted throughout with the unfamiliar noise of alien instruments, deep, oscillating hums that touched her bones. Whatever Sander had put into her drink...

Was sound supposed to be warm?




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 26



'Giving you an experience,' Sander unconsciously swayed in time with the music, grinning. The nanogenes had wrought their chaos on Amy's nervous system, he could tell; the firmware must have been updated since he had last been in a position to partake of the stuff himself. The bass was making her back arch, the sound of drums squeezing her thighs together. From her perspective, the music was getting antsy.

'Give in to it, Amy,' He continued, drawing her close enough that he could mouth the words into her ear. Even so, the living tide surrounded them; they were both alone and not alone, all at once, 'Remember your job? How good it felt to be the center of attention?'

'Y-yes...' Amy's voice shook, her breathing shallow and panting. Interfacers packed a punch, and as Sander listened the song reached its crescendo, notes rising, piling up on one another into a mountainous wall of sound. At its peak, he pressed his lips to Amy's, felt her squirm against him, enraptured in the resonant torrent, allowing him to push his tongue into her mouth.

Just for now, he had her. Easily.

'That's what this is,' He murmured, as she shuddered in his arms, released from the drug fuelled pleasure by the momentary silence at the end of the song. 'Enjoy it.'

'Feels good...' Amy's speech was slurred slightly, though it was impossible to tell over the noise of the club. It was one of the other advantages of the interfacers; they had almost no perceptible physical symptoms.

'Move with it,' This was the gentlest Sander had ever sounded, his voice devoid of any trace of command. 'It's made to go with the club, after all.'

The music wrapped its way around Amy's brain, each pulsing note twanging her nerves like the strings of a guitar. If she stayed still, the feeling built up in odd ways, but when she moved, it was like liquid, cascading through her like warm rain. Her body swayed with the music, letting the notes shower through her flesh, and before she knew it, she was dancing.

It was the crush of people that did it, music throbbing through the dark as she was surrounded by strangers, brushed by random passersby, treated to snippets of conversation; it stoked her memories.

She and Mels had spent some time in London years ago, shrugging off Leadworth like an uncomfortable coat, in favor of the big city. Real civilization. And with it, a real nightlife. 

They had danced for whole nights, adrift in a sea of flesh, high on whatever had come to hand, moving until their muscles ached for the sheer joy of it. And as they danced, the outside world had begun to fade from their minds, normalcy took on an alien aspect as the rules of that new place had asserted themselves. In the beginning, when everyone had been fresh from the London night, and the real world had still meant anything, Amy had been nervous, surrounded as she was on all sides by strangers, buffeted by unfamiliar bodies, brushed by hands and arms and feet and shoulders, all in the dark. 

But it was in the nature of these things to accumulate. The night had quickly become charged with a kind of pent up energy, sexual frustration combining with various chemicals and mounting physical exertion, building up like electricity. It was enough to change the world around them, certainly enough to change Amy's behavior. By the end of the night, she had embraced the human chaos that had surrounded her, pressing into its anonymous caresses, heat rising through her as those unseen hands only became bolder and bolder.

And in the Olivan, so as in London...

Only this time, she had a shadow, a mostly silent guardian in the form of her captor, watching from a distance as Amy gave herself to the machinery working her brain, and to the crowd that was all too happy to accept the girl in the collar into their midst. To them, she was a slave, the markings on her Command Collar identifying her as owned, but... open, in ways that others might not be. Her reactions only enhanced that image.

Oh, there were more than just hands in this crowd. Amy had become used to the feeling of fingers moving boldly against her flesh, touching her in ways the only Scot in Leadworth would never have allowed, but it was the things that weren't fingers that challenged her. The music stoked her mind, each beat like hot butter dripping through her limbs, and the appendages of countless species beyond identification stoked her body. Though she couldn't exactly see them, Amy was sure there were tentacles somewhere out there, and other things she couldn't picture through only touch; silky things, rough things, things that seemed to spread and clasp as they touched her.

Each touch was a momentary, fleeting peek into another world, opening up new genres of sensation that Amy greedily feasted on. Her entire body was awash with the light, dwindling pleasure, the sea foam ecstasy of a fading orgasm. Every new pressure on her skin only enhanced that, as though the Olivan itself was getting amorous with her. Sander knew his drugs, whatever these were...

It actually took her a moment to recognize that the hands currently upon her were familiar, though the more persistent direction to their pressure did not escape her notice. Suddenly, her back was pressed against Sander's chest; without thinking Amy pushed her hips back, her ass grinding up between his legs. She felt his laugh, deep and reverberating, through his chest.

'See? A little bit of help, and you loosen right up,' There was a kind of settling relief in Sander's voice that almost escaped Amy's notice, in her current state. The hard part was over, the work at Hackett House behind him, and now he was here, and Amy was smiling... he had cheated somewhat, but enjoyment had been forced into this night.

'You were a kissogram, right?' He already knew the answer, of course, but he wanted her to acknowledge it. Her participation was important, here; only when she gave a too-enthusiastic nod, did he continue, smirking, 'Show me.'

Though Amy's body felt full to bursting with sensation, she found herself starving for more. Aching for contact, for heat and sound and light, anything to top the intensity of the moment before; Sander was just another outlet for this, a body that she knew all too well, filled with heat, and softness and hardness and all those things that, right now, she needed.

And he was inviting her in...

Some small, indistinct part of her knew she would regret this in the cold light of morning, but with the interfacers dancing in her mind, it was a useless, tiny thing; a buoy bobbing in a storm. Amy spun around, memories of her piffling little job back in Leadworth flowing back to her.

Normally she would have gauged the situation, adjusted her actions based upon the man in front of her, but not tonight, not in the world of the Olivan. Tonight, she was a rollercoaster without brakes; her lips met his, hard. Her tongue met his, even harder. Her eyes closed, and she stood still for the first time, rubbed and grazed and rocked by the crowd, and Sander's hands, and her own hands, moving incessantly over exposed areas of her skin, just to feel something.

And the interfacers turned the kiss from a simple act akin to her old job, to almost a transcendent experience.

They were moving, Sander guided them both back, his solid form pushing against Amy's until her back hit the wall. Amy had drifted close to the corner farthest from the entrance in her travels, and now she was trapped in it, isolated from the rest of the dance floor, treated to only glimpses of it over Sander's shoulders. The warmth of his body ensconced her, and with her back to the wall the music thrummed through her as a physical force, a vibration like a tongue directly on the nerves in her spine. She shuddered with sheer, unrestrained pleasure, drinking up her points of contact with the outside universe, as it poured such textured ecstasy into her through her skin.

'Do you know what this place is, Amy?' Sander placed his chin on Amy's shoulder and whispered into her ear, little private words that dripped with power and decadence. Even his voice sent a shiver down her spine, now, 'It's special. I could have you right now, up against this wall, and nobody would mind...'

Amy's head was spinning, filled with song and heat and vibrations, a whirlwind of thumping, throbbing feelings that stoked her memory in odd directions. She recalled that constant dance in the London night, the anonymous hand that had pressed itself between her legs through the mist of the crowd, the sickly feeling of violation that had followed... and the indecent pulse of curious lust that had stuck with her for the rest of the night. It had been a new feeling, and in that freewheeling period she had welcomed it.

And Amy Pond had found that she liked it.

'Do it, then,' Amy knew that the cold light of day would make her words tonight horrifying to her, but in the night, in the haze, she was in a different world. Her body hungered for it, her back arched into his touch, he was so warm and indelibly solid, in an unnamable, wonderful, factual way. So much of herself was adrift, scattered through time, years sustained on promises of the Doctor, years swinging from timeline to timeline, but here was Sander and tonight she could sizzle in her flesh like she had that one carefree night in London.

Had she even thought about the Doctor once, that night?

Sander kissed her neck, and the thought evaporated into the next beat of the song. He hiked up her skirt under the electric twang of a guitar. His hand moved against her wetness, accompanied by the roll of a drum beat. His zipper went down to an odd buzzing noise Amy couldn't identify, no matter how well it meshed with the melody. Amy was flying, possessed. Everything blurred.

The song was motion, the matter around her pulsed with the beat. Her hand running down Sander's chest plucked the strings of the guitar, her panting breath prompted the metal hiss of some unknown instrument. The bridge of the song was her hand around his hardness, the heat of it an atomic explosion travelling up her arm, spreading that warmth through the rest of her body. She trembled as the music spilled out of her, overflowed out of him, rainy pinpricks of life on their skin, until she could feel Sander's heartbeat synching up with the drums, and didn't care that it was impossible, moving too fast.

He lifted her leg up and the music swelled, pitch climbing; the pads of his fingers pressed into her thigh and played a few more notes. Amy leaned back into the wall, letting Sander take her whole weight, just one foot beneath her to keep her balance. The dark sliver of guilt that persisted was just another aspect of the mosaic of everything that flowed through her, so easy to ignore among the writhing morass. When she opened herself to him, she also opened herself up to the rest of the room, the air and the music...

He entered her as the music petered out into silence, a momentary punctuation mark to the party around them. Amy moaned, bereft in the quiet and alone with Sander's hardness inside her, the sound long and loud in the sudden absence. People turned to look, but by that time the music had started up again, and Amy was beyond caring. 

Some stayed to watch, more interested in their lascivious display than in continuing the dance, and Amy could see them as her body rose and fell with Sander's initial thrusts. The crowd pushed in, there was no space for her audience to maintain any kind of respectful distance, and their gazes were unavoidable. Some were human, others weren't, and all of them stared openly, both at Amy herself and Sander, laboring inside her.

Occasionally one reached out to touch her, the contact a sparkling addition to the tapestry of commotion that subsumed her, but it was nothing to the electric hotness that climbed her spine, starting at her hips, at the roiling core of wetness between her legs and Sander's erection sliding smoothly in and out of her. Her skirt was a bunched up band of fabric around her waist, leaving her ass and pussy bare and open to the public, and she didn't even care. Every inch of her body was in ecstasy.

When the hands of the crowd, by now some monolithic singular entity in her mind, moved to roll down Amy's shirt, exposing her chest in much the same way, she reveled in it; it allowed Sander, her partner in this public sex show, to drop his mouth from hers, nipping and licking down her neck to her breasts. Amy cried out freely in the absences of his kisses, adding her own melody to the song above her, much to the appreciation of the watchers. Her voice rose and fell with the rhythm of their sex, body quivering with abandon. 

She wondered whether anyone she knew was watching; Christina or Lorna or Sally, even the rest of the crew. What would they think? Did she even care, right now? Of course, Sander had spiked their drinks as he had hers; the same fugue of synaesthetic pleasure had descended upon them too. They were all unchained from context tonight, floating free in this miasma of hedonism. 

Anything could happen, and they would only come to regret it in the morning, once the damage had been done. 

Once they had stripped her down as far as they could, the crowd seemed content to just watch, to let Sander do his thing. This place had a similar atmosphere to Nirvana, those scant few months ago; the collar around her neck denoted ownership. Here she was property, and there was only so much the people surrounding them were willing to do in the light of that. 

He thrust into her harder now, leveraging her into such a position as to increase the impact and depth of his cock within her, and those few shreds of modesty and decorum she had left flitted away. Amy howled her pleasure to the rafters, her voice weaving through the music, the tune surrounding her like a glittering thread. The Olivan had come together in a single, nonsensical, glorious whole, filling her up full to bursting. She could almost see the reverberating beat passing through her body and into Sander, leaving remnants of itself in both of them.

Sander fucked her hard, openly, shamelessly, and entirely to the approval of the audience. The hushed conversation around them was barely audible below the thumping speakers, but Amy could hear enough to understand that the forcefulness with which Sander was using her was appreciated. She could see why; her body rose and fell with each thrust, pert tits bouncing, nipples desperately hard and begging to be touched. 

Sander bowed his head, took one into his mouth, twanging a string of nerves all down Amy's body. She squealed. The crowd cheered.

How long had this song gone on for? How long had she been here, pinned up against this wall and fucked mercilessly for the amusement of a bunch of strangers? Time lost all meaning in this place, where every part of the world raped her senses, where the drugs in her system interpreted all her sensory input as the threat of an orgasm... and with the very real, very literal threat of the same boiling up from below. 

The beat had moved up a gear, moving through her faster now, the climax of the song enhancing every sensation. It was reaching its peak, and so was she, writhing shamelessly on her captor's cock, wringing every ounce of pleasure from him, feeling his own gratification through his skin. His fingers were tight on her thigh, hinting at just how close he was; they were both going to tumble over this edge together, she knew.

With a thunderous harmony of notes the song reached its end, and as the final hard blows of the drum slammed into Amy's body she came explosively, shuddering in Sander's grip. Her head tipped back, and she screamed into the silence that followed, her lone orgasm dominating the room. All eyes turned as, with a grunt, Sander slipped effortlessly into his own climax, and Amy's pussy milked him for all he was worth, his sticky warmth inside her its own genre of sensation.

Amy Pond squirmed against the wall as wave after wave of true bodily pleasure crashed over the shores of her consciousness, clit throbbing, all shame evaporated. She was watched, observed, marked as a possession by the collar ringing her neck, and she just couldn't bring herself to care. When the crowd applauded she welcomed it, drinking up the new sounds even if they couldn't match the sheer bliss of the music here... or of Sander's cock.

She came down with a little mewling sound, her panting breaths subsumed under the volume of the next piece of music, but still the crowd stared, wanting more. But they had none to give, even as Sander kissed her deeply, possessively, tasting her. She let him; there was nothing left to hide now. 

Gradually those that had watched Amy slide into depravity lost interest, rejoined the fray that still moved around them, as Sander cleaned her up. As he readjusted her clothes she giggled; she felt oddly ticklish, now of all times. 

Wordlessly, he stepped away from her, giving Amy what space he could, and the urge to move returned. Like an addict, she gave into it, let the song flow through her bones like liquid metal, let it carry her away, back into the dance. Back into this little microcosm of the universe, where her troubles seemed so distant.

She spun, and danced, movements dictated more by the tidal movements of the floor, gaining glimpses of the world she had left to come here as she found her joy again in the fugue of the drugs. She saw Sander, watching her from the outskirts, assuaging her every fear; Sander Hackett was capable of many things, but Amy felt safe in assuming he wouldn't allow any harm to come to what he considered as his property. 

And she quickly found her perspective turning anyway...

She whirled, saw more familiar faces, if only for moments at a time. There was Ren, arms draped over Lorna and Christina's shoulders, hands disappearing inside their shirts, moving about at roughly chest level. All three wore smiles, subsumed in the same fugue as Amy herself.

There was Dulcimer, interacting with a group of aliens in some secluded corner, apparently deep in telepathic conversation. Further along was Sally, the closest thing Amy had to a friend in this place, sitting in Mara's lap with the blonde's tongue down her throat. The entire dynamic of captive and captor had been suspended, at least for tonight.

For whatever the morning would bring, tonight, everything was permitted.

And in a seat on a raised platform, looking out over the club, the bald man was giving Amy an inordinate amount of attention. He was easy to spot, looming over the room as he did, and every time he had drifted past Amy's gaze, she had seen him looking, his eyes on hers. He never seemed to look around, was that normal?

Did it matter? The next song was playing. The next beat was licking her up and down. The next anonymous being was sidling up into her personal space, gearing up to touch her. Amy's awareness of her skin had intensified, to the point that every brush of the fabric against her was a burst of erotic pleasure, a soft and strange caress over entire sections of her body at a time. When she squeezed her thighs together her skirt nuzzled in between them, and Amy felt herself shudder. A sweeping warmth filled her hips.

The deep bass of the music wasn't just throbbing in the air or wrapped around Amy's mind, but reverberating up through her feet, travelling up her body from below, filling her up.

Amy went through the next series of touches and drumbeats, mind lost in the haze, the fervor of the Olivan. In the silence that followed the end of a song, that crystal clear moment where everyone waited in expectation, a young man in a dark suit made his way through the crowd to her, taking hold of her wrist just as the crowd began to writhe anew. He led her with more insistence than the other hands on her had, but the thump-thump rhythm of the sound system had settled back into her mind, making her pliable. Perhaps there was something wrong, but it didn't matter; Sander was watching.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 26



Why did that make her feel secure, now?

Ah, up to the dais, in front of the staring man. Up close, Amy could see that, whoever he was, this one was a breed apart from the rest of the patrons here. Well dressed and clean shaven, he was seated in a large, padded chair, flanked by a pair of bulky, undeniably alien beings in suits like folded sails. As he looked Amy up and down, the man who had brought her here nodded curtly to him, and then receded back into the sea of flesh behind her. 

'What's your name, girl?' The bald man said, voice rising easily over the din of the club. 

'Amelia!' Amy exclaimed back, feeling fairytale enough to employ her full first name here. 

'Amelia,' He mulled the name over. 'I liked the way you moved out there, Amelia.'

Amy giggled. Champagne bubbles were rising through her brain, everything was funny and sexy and this man was paying attention to her and there was always the music, singing through her blood... She swayed with it almost automatically now. The man didn't seem to mind, and his gaze only intensified, stuck to her body as she moved with all the sinuousness she could manage. The music seemed to like it when she moved with fluidity. 

'And I saw your little show...' He leaned in, Amy felt his hand on her ass, didn't mind it. His fingers clenched inward, taking the fabric of her skirt with them, ending in a tight handful of her clothes. He pulled. Amy fell, slipping on unsteady feet, backwards...

Right into his lap.

'Now, who do you belong to?' His fingers ran the length of Amy's new collar plate, over the color coding, apparently deriving some form of meaning from it. For her part, Amy just giggled again; this wasn't how clubs were!

'She's not for sale, Fiori!' Sander's voice cracked like a whip, easily audible over every other noise in the room. He had climbed onto the dais too, staring down the Olivan King without apparent fear of his entourage. 

'Ah, so it's you, is it?' Fiori's eyebrow cocked, the two aliens moved forward threateningly, but did nothing more. It was simply to establish a power dynamic, 'Her little partner from before? Figures.'

'You notice the collar? It's a Three Red,' Sander growled, drawing close enough to obviate the need to shout. 'You can touch, but that's the end of things. I put her on the dance floor for a reason, Fiori.'

Fiori stared, something that Sander found intensely uncomfortable. He hadn't exactly been around Fiori a lot, but once upon a time the name Sander Hackett had been relatively well known. Now, of course, he was a wanted criminal; it would only take a single moment of recognition to cause Sander and his crew a whole world of trouble.

'I want her,' The bald man said eventually, his entire demeanor hinting at how unused to being denied he was. Very comfortably, he had laid his free hand on Amy's bare thigh, 'And I get what I want. I could just buy her from you, you know, easy way and all that.'

'She's not for sale,' Sander repeated. 'I know you could buy her, but I'm well off too, Fiori Kamui. You're tempted to just take her, I can tell. You've got a reputation, I know what you do with your girls. But I'm not going to let you, not with my girls. I could buy you a whole lot of trouble.'

'Not for sale,' The words seemed genuinely alien to Fiori, and Sander knew why; wealth tended to enforce agreement. And Fiori had far more than wealth, he also had amorality; if Sander hadn't been watching, Amy would have just been devoured by the Olivan, disappeared into Fiori's service in an instant, 'I can't convince you?'

'No, you can't,' Sander shook his head, gently extracting Amy from Fiori's lap. 'This is Amelia Pond, and I went to a lot of effort to procure her. The same with my other girls. They aren't for sale. Come along, Pond.'

He didn't wait for an answer, instead leading Amy off of the dais and back down into the crowd. Fiori watched them disappear into the morass of activity that his customers represented, sitting silently for a moment before gaining the attention of the closer of his bodyguards.

'Put out a trace on Amelia Pond,' He said. 'Start with the Selestene slave networks, see what you can find. I want to know who she is. Oh, and have her followed. People don't say no to me.'

************

'I feel a little uncomfortable with having been here for that,' Em leaned back in her seat, tucked away in the quietest corner of the Olivan.

'It feels like the kind of thing we should have put a stop to, Sera...' Nat pouted, eyeing her companion's dispassionate gaze as she prodded her drink.

'We can't interfere with events,' Sera answered. 'At all. That means when we see Sander doing... that, with Amy Pond, we let it happen. If it's observed it's established, and if it's established we can't touch it.'

'But we have to watch it?' Nat asked.

'We have to follow them afterward,' Em said. 'Since there's no positional data in the playbook, it's the only way to know where they're staying. After that... well, that's where things get a bit interesting...'

************

Sander uttered a series of curses under his breath, as he threaded his way through the crowd, putting as much distance between himself and Fiori as possible. The situation had suddenly become infinitely more uncomfortable. 

The Olivan had a series of backrooms, and each of those backrooms was occupied by a rotating series of slaves of all shapes and sizes that one might engage for various prurient acts, for a fee. That much was confirmed; what was unknown was just how Fiori had come to procure these slaves. Oh, but there were rumors, swarming like locusts around the Olivan, adding to the air of danger that suffused the four walls of the underground club.

Some were purchased legitimately; Fiori was well known among the auction houses and fleshworks of Selestene, after all. But the rumors persisted, of slaves stolen from their owners, people kidnapped, disappearing after entering the Olivan... it was hard to divine the truth, but nothing seemed entirely beyond Fiori's reach. Certainly not the prodigal son of Hackett House, returned home as a visitor. 

He was tall enough to see over the majority of the writhing, constantly moving mass of people, and in doing so to spot the rest of his crew with a measure of ease. Actually getting to them, or even into a position to accurately communicate with them was another matter; even if the sound and motion that surrounded him hadn't been enough to occlude him, Amy kept wanting to wander off. Doped up as she was on nanomachines, her need to dance the pleasure back into her limber frame must have been overwhelming. 

This whole night was beginning to seem like a really bad idea.

'Mara!' He called out as he shouldered his way past the last few obstacles in his path. 'We need to move, here. Get everyone geared up, it's time to go!'

'Oh, come on, we're only just getting comfortable!' Mara never took her eyes off of Sally, her chosen plaything of the night, hands roaming the body in front of her. 'Wasn't this what we came here for?'

'Yeah, well, Fiori took an interest!' Sander hissed, finally getting into physical contact with her. 'We have to go, especially if you want to keep your toys, Mara!'

This caused her to finally look at him, examining her boyfriend's expression for a moment or two, before speaking, 'You're serious, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

'That's rare,' Even so, Mara stood, running a finger along Sally's chin before leading her away. 'Alright then. I'll be expecting an explanation later.'

'Actually, I can do that now,' Sander's hands gesticulated restlessly. 'The owner's taken a liking to Amy since I fucked her standing up in that corner,' He pointed. 'And he's rich, and he's powerful... I'm only one of those things, and I can't exactly throw my money at him. So we need to get some distance on the guy now so we don't "accidentally" get caught up with his bouncers on some technicality and end up never seeing Amy again, alright?'

'Works for me,' Mara nodded, before cupping her hands to her mouth. 'Team, we are moving!' 

After a few minutes of work rounding up the stragglers, Sander and his crew spilled out into the night, the open air cool and refreshing after the warm press of the club. Not that they had any time to enjoy it; Sander ushered them down the street and away from the Olivan as fast as he could. He cast his gaze backward, over his shoulder at the mouth of the club, waiting for the bulky men in dark suits to come spilling out; Selestene at night was almost a different world. Far more dangerous.

'Ren, keep your eyes open,' Sander said. 'We might be hitting up some trouble. Dulsie, Lysithea, warn me if anyone gets too close. We're going back to the hotel.'

**************

'Well, that was... short lived,' Ren collapsed onto the couch in Sander's suite, dragging Lorna down onto her lap in the process. 'Don't get me wrong, I'm happy I got to do it, but I sort of envisioned my first trip to Selestene as being... prolonged. And risqué.'

At that, she fondled her captive's generous bust shamelessly, as if demonstrating the point. Lorna giggled vaguely, grinning; away from the reactive environment of the Olivan, the interfacers weren't quite as effective, but the process of coming down from them was a gradual one. The girls were still loopy, receptive in ways they had never been before. They would have been fools not to take advantage...

'Error in calculation, I'm afraid,' Sander shrugged. There was no point in feeling bad about the turn the night had taken; Selestene was full of piranhas like Fiori, after all. It had happened, and the important part now was dealing with it; how very fortunate he had retrieved what he needed before all this had gone down, 'Not that this is necessarily the end, Ren. Why not just have some stuff sent up to the room? I'm still paying, go nuts.'

At least they were safe here; the threat was outside, but its reach was limited. Even so, Sander had been able to tell immediately that it was genuine; he recognized that look in Fiori's eyes. He had worn that look himself. It was the desire of a man used to possessing the things he wanted with relative ease. One that didn't take refusals lightly.

Sander had built a planet sized machine to unstitch the fabric of time to get Amy back. All Fiori had to do was wait for the right moment. At least he knew how the man operated.

'Well, I do like going nuts,' Mara said lightly, flouncing her way over to the info-screen that dominated one wall; the device was an all-in-one television, computer and room service system, and with but a few selections she had sent out for a series of, in her words, "entertainment enhancers." 

In mere minutes, a little robot floated through the door, borne aloft by a set of four propulsion pads, its surface a flat tray carrying a number of bottles and boxes. Seconds later, it was denuded of the same.

'Alright,' Sander said, bringing his hands together. 'We should be safe so long as we stay in the suite. Fiori's powerful, but he's not stupid enough to take on Nirvana alone. Not for Amy.'

'Oh, thanks!' Amy slurred, unable to wipe the hazy smile from her face nonetheless.

'Yeah, that,' Sander tipped a bottle from the table in front of him, letting it spin end over end before catching it deftly. He dropped down beside Amy and, still unable to shake just how odd this familiarity was, motioned to share the drink with her. 

And so it went. The night was theirs, uniquely theirs, given the captives' new languid attitude. And they took full advantage of it, despite being sequestered. 

Hours passed...

*************

Sander had never been one to wake easily into a hangover, but once the conscious world got its hooks in it dragged him inexorably up, above the waves of sleep. His back ached, something hard and unyielding poked up into the small of it, and without opening his eyes he wriggled to free himself from the intrusive pain. It was only when he found that he couldn't that he begrudgingly cracked open an eyelid, squinting at the electronic daylight.

It turned out he had been sleeping against the wall, and during the night the little delivery robot had shown off the inaccuracy of its pathfinding A.I, getting itself caught under the awkward arch of his back, the edge of its tray digging into his skin. When Sander shuffled away from it, it continued its journey as if nothing had happened, trundling out of the room and down the hall with nary a look back. 

Still, that was better than if it had stopped to talk to him...

Sander stood, trying to stretch as many muscles in his body as he could at one time, kinks and twinges registering their complaints as he did so. The daylight transition had occurred quite a while ago, by his reckoning, but given how late he and the crew had been... doing their thing last night, the lateness of his rising was entirely justified. His head still throbbed, but there were pills for that; Amy had made some reference to being hungover in the morning last night, and it had taken him several seconds to even understand what the word had meant. 

His crew were mostly still sleeping, though occasionally Ren's recumbent form stirred, perhaps in the grips of some toxic dream; occasionally she swore under her breath, hearty, violent curses that stabbed at the air, quite at odds with her relaxed posture. Mara was close by, just the way he liked, and Kanaria was on the couch, using Tsugi's arm as a pillow. It was vaguely adorable.

Far from the rest of the group, Dulcimer's neck now streamed with a visible haze, ribbons of transparent color threading up into the air before fading out completely. Every now and then she actually sparked; obviously an individual without a mouth couldn't drink like the rest, but there were plenty of psychoactive substances that could reach into her telepathic field and create all sorts of fun effects. Usually her kind didn't even sleep, but apparently she needed it now. 

Something prodded at his mind, some inkling half-realization; something was wrong.

Mentally he took inventory in the silence, flicking through his memories of the night before and matching them to what he saw in front of him; in the end, the problem was rather obvious. All at once, the weight seemed to drain out of him, taking with it his sense of stability; he felt like he could float away at the slightest impetus. 

But he had to move.

Sander ran from room to room, gaze wheeling, desperately hoping against hope that it would fall upon his quarry and all his worrying would have been pointless from the outset, but deep at the heart of him he knew that wouldn't be the case. All around his suite he went, before switching to the next one down the hall, fishing around his pockets before finding that his keycard was gone, effectively locking him out of all the other rooms; he managed to make it back to his own a mere second before it closed over on him too.

'Ah,' He murmured. 'That is... well... uh...'

He trailed off. Usually he'd have something to say, some casual jibe or comment, laden with sarcasm, to reduce the tension of the moment. It was his thing; he was part of a crew that had it as a thing. But now, that reaction failed him. Things were too serious for that. He couldn't joke, but he could yell; and he did just that, waking everyone he could possibly wake.

Amy, Christina, Sally, and Lorna...

Where the hell had they disappeared to?

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 27



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey guys, no big announcements or anything this time, except to answer a question I've been getting a lot lately: yes, you will be seeing Clara in this series. It'll be fun, I promise. Other than that, enjoy! Votes, feedback and comments, no matter the kind, are entirely welcomed, so let me know what you think.

*********************

Amy dreamed odd dreams under the influence of the interfacers. 

She dreamed of being naked, surrounded by indistinct, almost impersonal watchers, surrounding her in a ring. Their gazes rained down upon her, their voices reaching through her like licking tongues of pure sound, the sensation switching from pleasure to pain rapidly, at random. She was lower than her audience, kneeling or writhing on the floor, the two feelings becoming indistinct, blurring together into a symphony of light and shadow, bringing her closer and closer to a very familiar edge.

Her collar was tight around her neck, and here it was a fact as well as a physical object; it was a symbol of her submission, her possession by another. And that other was between her legs, spreading them, face enshrouded in shadow before he looked up to capture her gaze. 

Of course, it was Sander...

'Come on now, wake up! Don't make me leave you behind!' The voice hissed, syllables cracking indignantly in the air, mercifully ripping Amy from her dream and into the waking world. Her eyes flew open, beholding Christina, leaning over her and illuminated only by the low light of the streetlamps outside. 

'Ah, there you are,' She continued. 'Care to go for a little jaunt outside, Amy?'

From behind her back Christina withdrew a palm-sized white card emblazoned with the emblem of Nirvana, waving it before Amy's eyes. The brunette winked gleefully, before motioning behind her; Sally and Lorna were standing by the door, posture defensive yet clearly excited.

'Is that...?' Amy was still half asleep, but rising fast into consciousness as the implications of this sunk in. 

'Don't ever fall asleep in front of a cat burglar, Miss Pond,' Christina sighed smugly. 'Especially one as skilled as I. You can thank me once we're clear, but you are coming, yes?'

'Hell yes I'm coming!' Amy nodded furiously, leaping to her feet just a little faster than the rest of her was ready for. Of course she was coming; her husband was out there somewhere, undoubtedly looking for her. This was her time to do something, take back the power... to stop waiting, for once.

Of course, the last time this had happened she had accidentally almost killed herself, not to mention Sander and Mara... but this would be different. There were more people on her side, for one.

Sally gave her a wide, glittering smile as she joined them by the door, as if everything had fallen into place all at once. Amy found that she was doing the exact same thing. It wasn't just the promise of freedom, but the fact that it was freedom of her own making; she would step outside this door and find the Doctor on her own power. 

... Granted, Christina had nabbed the key, but at least they were no longer waiting to be rescued!

There was a moment of unbearable tension as Christina swiped the card across the reader, waiting for the door to slide open; a single sound may give the game away, wake one of the crew and bring them all tumbling back into captivity and, inevitably, punishment. Amy knew firsthand the cruel inventiveness of these people; she wondered just how bad it would be for newcomers like Sally and Lorna. 

Thankfully, the door opened with only the slightest of mechanical noises, and though they all held her breath and waited for one of the sleeping forms to stir in the dark, but when none were forthcoming they slipped out into the hallway. Keeping quiet and not simply breaking into a run was one of the hardest things Amy had ever had to do.

The next trial was the elevator, but it admitted the group without issue, sending them down to the ground floor in but a few moments. Only then, speeding away from Sander and his cadre of kidnappers, did Amy allow herself to relax. All around her, the other girls were doing the same; even Christina's shoulders fell, a deep and abiding sigh escaping her like the release of a pressure valve. Suddenly, Lorna burst out laughing, a quick peal of silvery stress relief that lapsed just as quickly into one of her hushed, Gamma forest prayers; they all knew without having to ask that she was praying for a safe journey home. 

The receptionist gave them an odd look from the front desk as they crossed the lobby floor, but regardless of the Command Collars around their necks, she didn't reach out to stop them. Once outside, the four girls slipped around one corner, then another, and then another, until they could no longer see the hotel they had come from. In an alleyway just off of the main thoroughfare, Amy punched the air, suppressing a victory whoop by sheer force of will. 

Freedom!

Christina felt around the edges of her collar for the umpteenth time, looking for a join, or a lock, or a hinge, anything that she might work on to release herself from the damnable device. She was no stranger to sealed things, and getting them open was kind of her forte, but all that assumed there was something to unseal; to her touch, the collar was a solid piece of metal. 

Oh well, something to think of in the future...

'So, what do we do now?' Sally said, simply unable to wipe the smile off of her face. Amy reached out and took her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Soon, both were grinning like mad.

'Now? Well, now I get myself out of here,' Christina said. 'Find some transport, possibly something that feels like my old bus, and... see what I can find.'

'That was far too many singular pronouns, Christina,' Lorna eyed the brunette. 'Surely you aren't saying-'

'Always been better on my own,' Christina nodded. 'I fear I'd get slowed down with the three of you on my heels, and besides... Imagine the kind of trouble one could get up to in this big wide universe. I'm not sure I'm so keen to go back to Earth!'

'What?' Sally said flatly. 

'This is adieu, ladies,' Christina was already backing up, gifting the three remaining girls with a refined wave. 'I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but we were all there. We would know I'd be lying.'

They watched as Christina slipped around the corner and disappeared, running off into the night just as the daylight transition swept across the sky like the switching on of a giant cosmic lamp. Amy stared, no words coming to her; she had known that the noblewoman was... disconnected, in ways that Sally and Lorna weren't, but she had never expected that she would do something like this. Dead weight? Her?

'Unbelievable!' She said eventually, shooting a disbelieving look to Sally.

'Well, there's still the three of us,' Sally replied, trying to keep her spirits up. 

'And we're still wearing these collars,' Lorna flicked hers, the metal glinting in the newly formed daylight. 'In a place like this, these things are dangerous markers to have. We need to be careful.'

'This is a place that Sander brought us, of course these collars are dangerous,' Amy sighed, Theros and her original visit to Nirvana and Shangri-La looming large in her mind. Her captor seemed to have a fondness for slave-friendly cultures; had he really grown up in a place like this?

That actually explained a lot...

'This isn't actually too far off from my own time,' Lorna said. 'I might be able to find us some kind of transport offworld, possibly even a way to communicate with my family. I think the... other version of me out there is a bit younger, but I'm sure they'll help.'

She looked out the mouth of the alley, where the occasional passerby looked inside, viewing the three collared women with varied expressions of interest and distrust. It was no wonder; Amy could see numerous men and women and aliens adorned with similar collars or tracking devices walking the streets, but they were all accompanied by an owner, some well dressed individual walking ahead in the expectation that their chattel would follow. 

'But for now I think we should get off the streets,' Lorna added grimly. 'Come on, girls. Being seen doesn't serve our interests, right now.'

***************

Selestene bristled with cameras. At any given moment one could be sure that, if they were under the arcology's dome, they were being watched. That was just an objective fact.

Oh, there were the obvious ones; the sleek black domes that stood guard outside private businesses, and the hovering drones of the law enforcement. And there were the stealthy ones too; the nanometer thick, transparent image strips that adhered to the walls, covered with tiny nanomachine camera cells and linked up wirelessly with a hard drive somewhere else.

But most people missed the omnipresent camera.

The Selestene Arcology was a miracle of technological engineering; the dome simulated sunlight with unerring accuracy, to the point that plant life could photosynthesize it. It could engineer cloud cover as needed. And all the while it protected the citizens under the dome from the worst of the storms and wild atmospheric conditions that ravaged the pole outside. But there were additional functions that the general public wasn't aware of; like, say, the observer cells arrayed across every inch of the dome's interior, looking down upon the city within it.

The system wasn't actively used most of the time, but it was there, and that was the point; the potential for it to be used existed, if it was ever needed. Most weren't even aware that it existed; of course, those that did were generally able to hack into it and bend it to their own whims.

Enter the Chrysanthemum Guild.

The Guild's headquarters was underground, the property extending to both sides of the dome. It was an immense, circular cavern, hollowed out and shod in light generating polymers, with rail tunnels attaching it to the various prurient establishments within the arcology's limits. The central chambers were mostly empty- Guild agents generally preferred to work above ground after all- but there was always at least one staffer. Today he leaned his weight heavily on the back of his chair, feet up on the console in front of him.

The litany of sobbing from the lower levels was clearly audible from his position. Luckily, he liked it.

His job was to watch the screen, or more accurately, to watch Watcher as it watched the city, visible through the screen. The silent A.I drifted through the observer cells adorning the Arcology dome, viewing Selestene through the multitude of eyes. 

Looking for targets.

When it found one, the program immediately alerted the dispatcher, a small blinking symbol appearing at the corner of the screen. These days this was more of an annoyance than anything else; this job was so totally simple it was a wonder they hadn't automated it in its entirety. If not for Watcher's inability to interpret context with total accuracy, the dispatcher wouldn't have anything to do at all.

'Alright Watcher, pull it up,' The dispatcher sighed, pulling himself out of his recumbent position. Images flowed onto the screen, positional data overlayed over the top of them; the scene was captured from a near infinite number of angles, collated and presented in pristine clarity by Watcher. There had been more than a few false alarms lately, and a number of the console operators were beginning to suspect that the A.I needed to be replaced, but this time it was right on the money.

Four targets, all wearing fairly new models of Command Collar. A quick zoom in revealed the colour pattern was Three Red, but that hardly mattered; there was no obvious owner in the vicinity, and that made them free game, as far as the Guild was concerned. The dispatcher tapped his headset.

'Watcher, do we have any 'jackers out in that area?'

Two inset images appeared, showing a pair of distinct agents within effective range. At the press of a button, Watcher pushed the dispatcher's call through to them.

'This is dispatch calling hijacker agents oh-four and oh-oh-seventeen,' He intoned into his headset microphone. 'I'm registering four free range slaves within your operating area, wearing what appears to be a set of mark five Command Collars. All female, three grouped together with one striking off on her own. A redhead and three brunettes... I'm thinking pleasure models, at least.'

His tone had become distinctly unprofessional toward the end, but he leaned in and tapped a series of commands into his console.

'I'm pushing their coordinates to your heads-up displays. Bring 'em in, boys,' The dispatcher spun in his chair, sighing. 'Wouldn't want them to get snaffled up by someone else...'

******************

The streets of Selestene were always bustling, day and night; the entire city seemed to work on a schedule so that it was never unmanned. Happily, the daytime people were outwardly friendlier than the night time denizens that the girls had been privy to during their trip to the Olivan. 

There were more humans, for one, and though Amy liked to think of herself as more worldly- universally?- for having travelled with the Doctor, she still found herself more comfortable around members of her own species. The occasional alien still wandered the streets, but they were far less imposing in the daylight. Actually, that was true even of the humans; everyone was far more clean cut, sophisticated-looking and dripping with wealth. The upper class came out when it was light, apparently. 

Lorna led them through the streets, Amy and Sally keeping pace behind her; Sally in particular openly marvelled at the scenery around her. Of course, she had never been off world before, and free from the pressure of being caged and contained by her captors she was able to indulge in the age old human tradition of gawking at new things. Amy remembered being like that herself in the old days, promptly realized that she did not want to be that jaded, and proceeded to be amazed at the very next alien to enter her line of sight.

It was tall, and very thin, lined with pale blue bioluminescence. It deserved all the amazement Amy could muster.

This was all tainted with a strain of nervousness Amy had never really felt before, though; the jaws of this planet threatened to close on her with every passing second. She was treading on a bear trap; the Doctor had never taken her to a place like Selestene before. Even leaving aside the casual way this place and its people treated slavery, Sander was a miracle worker, and she was beginning to think that there was nothing beyond his grasp, given enough time. 

When he found they were missing, he would be coming for them...

'Where are we going, Lorna?' Sally piped up, eventual curiosity as to the practicalities of their situation overriding her wonderment.

'Someplace secluded,' Lorna answered. 'None of us exactly fits in, but I know places like this at least a little better than you two. You can hide while I find us some help.'

The hero in Amy demanded that she argue with this plan, but she wasn't with the Doctor right now; that kind of blind, action-oriented thinking would ill serve them. What Lorna was planning made sense; one girl in a collar could surely slip by more easily than three, the pretence of going about her master's business more believable as a single agent. The thought that it wouldn't be her, that Amy Pond wouldn't be striking out on her own, left a sour taste in her mouth, but she had to admit that she wouldn't know the first thing to do in this scenario.

'Ah, here we are,' Lorna tapped a duo of odd, rippling symbols drawn onto the archway of a building in some kind of wax. She nodded, 'Phi-sign. We can come in, ladies.'

'Phi-sign?' Sally asked, following Lorna as she opened the door. 

'From the neighbouring forest,' Lorna nodded. As she continued, she frowned, 'But... well, it burned down. The Phi foresters spread out, and their sigils became nomad signals. This one means the building is open for squatters. The Phi are community minded, at least.'

It wasn't the most opulent of places- by comparison the lodgings Sander had provided had been positively palatial- but it would serve its temporary purpose. In many ways it reminded Amy of the abandoned house on the outskirts of Leadworth; a well maintained exterior masking the desertion within. 

The floor was bare concrete, the walls stripped of paint, and but for a ring of armchairs and couches the large, open room was empty. It was clear just from looking that this wasn't a residence, but a stopping point, a place to stay when none others presented themselves. A squatter's quarters.

'Selestene's a slave-positive city, so I'd stay away from the windows so long as you're wearing those collars,' Instead of coming in with them, Lorna stood by the door, looking out into the street beyond. 'Just sit tight, I'll try to get into contact with my family, and we'll get offworld.'

'Be careful, okay?' Amy tried not to frown, but feared that she was failing; the idea of having to send someone else out into this city in her stead was intensely dissatisfying. 

'I'm a soldier, Amy,' Lorna added a smile to her brave face. 'Anyone tries to give me trouble, they'll find that the Church isn't just for praying.'

Amy had a few interesting responses to that lined up, but she decided to avoid them all, simply nodding before allowing the Gamma girl to slip away, out into the intimidating world they were now adrift in. Where would she go? What would she do? The Eternity Engine had landed them out of their own time with only the clothes on their backs, all personal effects sloughed off into whatever timeless realm Sander had relegated their existences to; no identification, no money... nothing.

Just their collars. 

Closing the door, she sighed and tried to find a place that was the least visible from the windows. Sally had already found it; a frayed couch nestled in a corner, right next to a high window with a deep blind spot that kept them hidden from the outside world. There was just enough room for the two of them to sit side by side; close enough for Amy to pick up that Sally was shaking.

'I wonder where we'll go once Lorna gets back,' She said, casting about her mind for something to distract the brunette. This couldn't have been an easy transition for her; dragged from a single encounter with the vastness of the universe, to being kidnapped and bundled right into the heart of a brand new world. Amy had been lucky; her time with the Doctor had served to acclimate her to all this beforehand, something Sally didn't have.

'If I had my phone I'd just call out to Rory,' She continued, rocking on her haunches. 'The Doctor fixed it so I can call anywhere in space and time. No fees, either. Of course, it's gone now, but maybe once we're out of here we can hook you up with one so we...'

Looking over, Amy saw the extent of Sally's perturbation; the girl was pale and wide-eyed, tremors rippling through her with almost rhythmic frequency. Every few moments her eyes would skitter over to some corner of the room, apparently alighting on some illusory thing, before moving on.

'Are you okay?' Amy said gently, moving to continue before Sally shook her head slowly.

'No...'

*****************

'You lost them?!' 

'Oh, am I the only person in this room, Ren?' Sander snapped. 'Am I talking to my fucking self? Or... No, actually, you're all in here too! We lost them.'

'What difference does that make?' Ren glowered.





Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 27



'We are going to get them back,' Sander paced the floor of the suite, every member of his crew following him with their eyes. 'Our guard was down last night, but we've still got the advantage. A better skill set, for one: three psychics, and four awesome technicians...'

'Three?' Mara tilted her head, counting out one, two, on the two aliens in the room in an exaggerated manner.

'Lysithea, Dulsie, and Naga,' Sander said, snapping his fingers. 'Guy's a psychic bloodhound. He'll find them. In the meantime, Kana, can you hack into the camera network? Give us some eyes on the street? And Ren, you feel like heading a search party?'

'You know me, boss,' Ren grinned. 'Any kind of party is my kind of party. I'm on it.' 

As the Half left, Sander continued to issue directions to his team, putting them in charge of various tasks that would, in the end, expand their field of vision to cover most of the city. Mara watched without saying a word, knowing that no matter what job he had in mind for her in the end, she wanted to be on the streets, searching. She had been there too, after all; in the beginning, when it was just the three of them. Just Sander, Mara and Amy. The Master, the Mistress and the Slave. Sander wasn't the only one who had formed an attachment to the redhead.

He would be out there actively searching, and so would she. It was only natural. 

'Mara, can you take Dulsie and Lysithea to Naga? They need to be coordinating on this,' Sander eventually joined his girlfriend, placing a hand on her shoulder just a little too tightly, hinting at the stress boiling away under his surface. The two aliens trailed in his wake, their lingering eye contact indicating a conversation that only they could hear.

'Fine, I'll tell him,' Lysithea said out loud, in the end. She sighed, and tapped Sander on the shoulder, 'I think we might have something extra we can do.'

'I recruited you because of the extra things you can do,' Sander quipped. 'What in particular?'

'Well... when you went out with Amy yesterday, we... sort of did the same with Sally and Lorna,' Lysithea shifted her weight uncomfortably; at the time she hadn't thought Sander would mind, but in the shadow of The Escape, she wasn't so sure. It had never been discussed, she had just assumed they all had an equal share, an investment in the captives and the machinery of Trismestigius... but all the consequences fell upon Sander and Mara, didn't they? 

The Doctor had seen Lysithea's face, that was true, but he had no way of knowing she was involved to this extent. All the Time Lord knew was that Sander and Mara were involved; the kidnapper and his paramour, known adversaries that had done precisely this in the past, and Sander had kept his crew out of the limelight too. If the Oncoming Storm was to fall upon Trismestigius, the lightning would strike only at the house of Hackett. 

'You did? Okay, so what?' He took it well, though Lysithea registered a colour of surprise in his mental patterns. He wasn't used to not knowing things about the women he collected.

'We went to the red light district and piggybacked on the sensations there,' She continued, enduring Mara's questioning raised eyebrow. 'Including Sally and Lorna.'

'Neither of them are accustomed to psychic connections,' Mara broke into the conversation, apparently more irked at this than Sander was. It was hardly surprising; Sander was clearly more involved in simply getting the girls back, than worrying about what they had done beforehand. Mara, on the other hand, was a capable multi-tasker, apparently, 'You could have done them some serious damage!'

'We didn't, though,' The Trine-form dismissed the point outright; it was unimportant, in the end. 'What we did do, was open up their minds a little, made them susceptible to sense sharing.'

'What's the point, here?' Sander cut in. 'We're burning time.'

'They're still connected to us,' Dulcimer sent. 'It's dwindling, but we can reach out and open them up all the way. It might slow them down some.'

'Will it hurt them?' Sander asked.

'In Selestene?' Lysithea couldn't help it when her mouth curved into a smile. 'In the red light district of Selestene? Yeah, it'll do the opposite of that.'

*****************

'Sally?' 

The woman's cheeks had flushed heavily, breath harsh and panting through trembling lips. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, thighs squeezed together, rubbing up and down, skin on skin under the short skirt she wore. The muscles of her abdomen tensed and relaxed, seemingly at random, as if hit by fluctuating currents of electricity. Suddenly, she squeaked.

'Come on, Sally, talk to me.'

She honestly tried, her tongue wrapping around the words before another spasm hit her, another inrush of sight and sound and sensation, a tentacle of stimulation squeezing the momentum out of her consciousness. She was transported, momentarily finding herself in some other point in the city.

Getting fucked.

This district was effectively one enormous brothel, filled with minds in the throes of ecstasy, pleasure burning like a star at the heart of Selestene. Sally had been shown a preview of this yesterday, when her mind had been opened and the city's sex-mad denizens had flowed in, filled her with borrowed orgasms and the pain, submission and sorrow that sometimes went along with them. Now, all that had returned, without the aid of the telepaths that had forced her to sit still while the district raped her senses. 

The thought was more than a little frightening; all this had returned to her spontaneously... was it just a side effect, or a permanent thing? Would it fade? Or was this just how things were now, her mind opened to any influence strong enough to enter it? 

But the questions soon faded, consumed by the sheer force of the feelings flowing through her brain, each one moving so fast it barely gave her enough time to process it before it slid away; Selestene screamed in climax, the chorus of experience so numerous and varied that each individual part of it was drowned out by the whole. 

It was a dissonant spectacle for the mind, but a rapid acceleration for the body; a storm of fingers and tongues and... everything else, worshiping every inch of her skin, setting her atremble. Sally couldn't help the flood of wetness between her legs, nor the furious blush that hit her cheeks as her heart began to race. She was simply along for the ride, as Selestene took her body against her will.

'Sally!' Amy was still there, still talking, though Sally's fractured attentions could hardly focus on her. 'What's happening? What's going on?'

A shudder rippled down Sally's back as some illusory tongue brushed momentarily against her clit, making her thighs squeeze together, 'It's... Uh! I don't know! S-something... the aliens did to me...'

'Sense sharing...' Amy murmured, knowing all too well what Lysithea in particular could do. Her time at Nirvana had left an impact, and even without any expertise in whatever powers the aliens had, she knew full well the kind of thing Sally was experiencing, 'There's nobody around, though.'

'It's a red light district,' Sally gritted her teeth. 'Plenty of p-people...'

'Oh! Um, wow,' Amy blinked, recalling having had a hard enough time with just Sander and Mara floating around in her mind. Right in the centre of the red light district... well, it was hard to say; only Sally herself knew for sure. 

'M-me and Lorna!' Sally gasped, both in realization and plain old lust. Some surprisingly sharp teeth had just closed around her nipples, before fading away, 'Don't suppose you'd know how to turn it off- ffuck!'

'What? No,' Amy couldn't help the building dread that rose through her, getting worse the more information Sally volunteered. 'You and Lorna? So she's out there all... hot?'

'I don't know! Maybe?' She panted, shuddering. 'You've been doing this the longest... y-you don't know anything that might- ugh!- help?'

Amy quickly looked away; of course she knew a way, and just by looking she could tell that, the way she was now, Sally wouldn't have minded at all. The image of being strapped down to that bed in Nirvana, fucked and toyed with, was burned into her mind; the satisfaction of that had been bone deep and shameful, something she had never admitted to since. Rory would die, if he ever found out.

But the fugue of heat Sally was undoubtedly subsumed in, Amy knew it all too well; she had barely been able to think of anything but the aching of her pussy, when it had been her turn in the barrel. The only release had been a physical one, and the growing hunger in Sally's eyes showed that she understood that all too well. 

'No, there's nothing I can do,' Amy shook her head, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Just ride it out. It doesn't last.'

She knew, even as she was saying it, that it wasn't enough. It was a platitude, nothing more. Right now, Sally wasn't a thinking creature; her mind was too full of other people's thoughts- and most likely orgasms- to be generating her own. Tidal waves of cumming, splashing over the shores of her body...

... Amy wasn't even surprised when her friend leaned in suddenly and kissed her.

'Please,' When she pulled away, her voice was low and husky. One hand was now lodged between her legs, rubbing furiously, 'I need... Remember the other night? When I-'

Then her mouth was covered by Amy's once more. The redhead remembered; in the privacy of a shared room, Sally's soft fingers had brought her to a gentle, much needed climax, after hours of teasing. That night had certainly instilled a more direct form of attraction in Amy, a sexual context to the other captive that beforehand had been shrouded in a lack of consent, of fear and captivity and anguish. Sally and her kindly touch had been the first time Amy had ever even been with a woman, with any real sense of choice. 

Perhaps this was just repaying a debt, but there was no reason Amy couldn't enjoy it herself too.

'I've got it, Sally,' Her voice came out almost as a purr, completely unintentional on her part, but it certainly seemed to fit the mood; the air had suddenly become thick with a sexual edge tinged with ridiculousness. There was something inherently mad about this situation; hiding in a squatter's den on the second iteration of Earth, surrounded by telepathically-enabled sex, and on the run from possibly insane kidnappers... and deciding the best course of action is to make out. Amy embraced the insanity wholeheartedly, just as she had when she had jumped in that blue box so long ago; this was something she could do to help, something she could control and consent to, a welcome relief after the past few weeks.

If there was nothing else to do but wait, then fuck.

Besides, Sally was soft and warm and reassuring, her moans so pleasant and genuine, such a contrast to the loud, screaming sex of recent days. She tasted nice, the soft tang of mint on her active, velvet tongue. Her hips seemed curved just right to fit Amy's palms. 

After Sander, after Ren, Sally was a clear step up.

But even if Amy had been content to simply continue like this, Sally was not; her needs were a tad more immediate, as evidenced by the hand still working under her skirt, even as her tongue worked in Amy's mouth. When she broke away, gasping for breath, Sally's eyes followed her, questioning, desperate. Just from watching, something inside Amy flicked on; a spasm of pure Pond-ness writhed in the pit of her stomach, joining with her growing, growling arousal, and reminded her of something important.

This collar didn't fit all of the time. She was still Amelia Pond.

'I want you naked,' She held Sally at arm's length, but only for a few moments before her self control failed, and she leaned in to brush her lips along the line of her friend's chin, up to her ear. 'I want you naked, Sally Sparrow.'

'What?' Her eyes flitted to the window, but the flutter in her voice indicated that any trepidation Sally did have would be fighting a losing battle. 'Why?'

'You got to see me in the buff before,' Amy smirked, loving even this little, unstable measure of power. Sander made her question, made her feel things she never got to in her daily life, but this at least was certain. This was pure Pond; she had been able to lead Rory on just like this, she had it down to an art form. Slick, easy; make them want to do what she said. Let Sally follow on the promise of what was to come.

'It's only fair, Sally,' She continued, shrugging. It was hardly even an enticement at all; she had already seen Sally naked, of course. But the contrast was important to Amy; this had choice. This was seduction, in one form or another; the source of Sally's lust was their shared kidnappers, but playing like this transformed it from an act of utility to something almost normal. 

As normal as this could get, of course.

The brunette shot Amy a pleading, helpless look, but got to her feet all the same. There was no getting out of this, and besides, in her telepathically maddened state, the risk of being seen was gorgeously erotic. Sally spent a moment considering whether that was an original thought of hers, or whether her mind had just been temporarily invaded by an exhibitionist. In the end, it didn't matter; she gave Amy what she wanted all the same.

Since coming to Selestene, the wardrobe made available to the collared girls had been severely limited, restricted to clothes made to be taken off, made to reveal and tease. Sally's dress was a premiere example of this, and it slipped down her body to the floor after the simple act of removing the straps from her shoulders. Lacking any form of underwear- another symptom of the prurient dress code Sander and his crew had enforced- this one motion left her nude, sunlight shining across her breasts and down her belly almost lovingly.

'Yeah, that about does it...' Amy mused, running her eyes up and down Sally's body with a smirk. She was flying by the seat of her pants, embracing the silly, spontaneous nature of how things were progressing, realizing even as she did so that she was behaving more and more like Sander with every passing second.

But then, there was always that delicious element of choice...

Sally moved with desperation edging her gait, throwing herself down onto the threadbare couch beside Amy, much closer than she had been the first time. By now, Amy had no sense of hesitation; she captured one of Sally's nipples between thumb and forefinger and tugged, leading the girl in for a kiss that now contained a possessive edge, reclamation of the power Amy had once wielded in a sexual context.

The new, decidedly physical pain of Amy's fingers meshed with the wash of psychic sensations, the pleasure of sex and the agony of a thousand ghostly whips and paddles and clamps, attached to every imaginable place on Sally's body. A deep and powerful quake rippled through her, as Amy forced her tongue into her mouth. It was easier to focus on the things actually happening to her; Amy's skilled fingers a far more attractive pleasure than the insubstantial ones that coursed the length of Sally. When they slipped between her thighs, Sally groaned, pushing her hips forward to meet them.

'You think Lorna's alright out there?' Amy whispered in Sally's ear, her fingernail clipping Sally's clit, with just enough pressure to draw out another shudder. 'It'll be the same for her, won't it?'

'She's a smart girl,' Sally panted, desperate for more. Just making the words without begging was a challenge, 'She'd c-come back if it was an issue... mmm...'

'You're probably right,' Amy nodded, punctuating her words by slipping inside the girl beside her for the first time. A naughty little thought occurred, and she surrendered herself to it, 'Come up here onto my lap, Sally...'

Blushing, hesitant despite how pleasant that image seemed at the moment, Sally did as she was told, form pulsing with sexual energy. Her legs shook when she stood, gratefully lowering herself onto Amy's lap, straddling her, pussy spread and open to the redhead. Amy cocked an eyebrow, grinning. 

'This is pretty fun!' She said in a low voice, steadying Sally with her hands on her hips. 

'It could be better still,' Sally was breathless, taking Amy's hand in hers and guiding it back between her legs, eyes pleading for the redhead's touch. 

'I agree,' Amy replied, shifting her hips so she could hike up her skirt. 'I've got one of those too, Sparrow.'

Sally looked down; Amy was right, and right now her pussy was swollen and deep red, to match the light dappling of ginger hair above it. She had seen it before, but the last time had been something fevered and perverse, more about release than sensuality. This time was much the same, only in reverse; Sally was in need of release, and looking upon the same body from the other side was quite a contrast. Her gaze turned hungry very quickly, and before she knew it, she was touching Amy again, fingers sliding straight into her wetness.

The two women writhed sinuously together, abandoned for the moment to their shared, freewheeling desire. Amy could barely remember the time she had had sex that was so... normal; all the fear and the thumping darkness was gone, and there was nothing challenging about this. It was all pleasure; no part of Sally's soft form pressed against her caused Amy to second guess herself. When she put her tongue in Sally's mouth she felt no guilt in participating, no shame at being beaten down. Her finger traced the brunette's navel, and but for the sheer joy of intimate contact she felt nothing new, no conflict for the first time since coming back into Sander's clutches. 

And god, it felt good...

It was a simple build, a rise, an electric climb to an orgasm they both needed. There was something almost determined about their movements; Sally's slowly circling hips had a direction to them, as though they were guiding Amy's fingers into select sweet spots inside her. In return, Amy spread her legs wider, settled down low in her seat to allow Sally the leverage she needed to curl her fingers against her g-spot. The redhead gave a low growl as Sally found the point of her pleasure, and ceased kissing her way down the brunette's neck in order to bite down. Sally's answering gasp was the sweetest music.

The taste of her skin, hot and salty, pulsing with life, bathed Amy's tongue, as the pain of her bite tipped Sally over the edge. Her wet and sticky walls contracted in on Amy's fingers, long limbs shuddering in her release, thighs squeezing Amy's hips. With every muscle Sally had tensing up, the reflexive curve of her fingers brought them into contact with a deep, rarely touched spot in Amy's pussy, ripping an orgasm from her even as Sally trembled through hers.

'More!' Sally gasped, the last spasms of climax still wracking her small frame. 'It's not... I n-need more. Please...'

'I think I can handle that,' Amy purred, head tilted back as traceries of pleasure still rippled through her.

The two women repeated the process three more times, all tongues and fingers and heated flesh. Their bodies entwined, closer and closer with each orgasm, but the telepathic assault never abated. Even as her muscles began to ache and her clit started throbbing, Sally's frayed nerves demanded more, desired another climax even as the last one left her strung out and tired. And there was always Amy, moaning and mewling and writhing beneath her, those skilled fingers working in Sally just as they must have worked in her own masturbation countless times before, sculpting each orgasm with exquisite precision. The flush in her cheeks drove Sally wild, the way she bit her lip begged for a kiss, the sheen of sweat on pale skin a maddening prospect.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 27



But never a satisfying one...

'It's n-not working,' She panted, breasts rubbing against Amy's, chin resting on the Scottish girl's shoulder.

'Speak for yourself- ah!' Amy gasped, pussy twitching on Sally's knuckles. 'Mmm, fuck...'

'I can't... I c-can't keep going...' Everything burned. Sally forced herself to pull away from the gorgeous woman below her, standing on weakened legs even as Amy shot her the most delicious pout, 'I need to stop... It's too much.'

Before Amy could say anything and, undoubtedly, coax her back in, Sally reached for her clothes, hastily pulling them back into place, covering whatever it was that Amy found so enticing about her. The redhead sighed.

'Fair enough,' She said. '... Thank you, though. That was... important, somehow. It was good. Yeah.'

'Yeah...' Sally echoed, pacing the floor in a desperate attempt to distract herself from the pulsing lust that just wouldn't fade. Amy pulled her skirt back down in the silence that followed, catching her breath and wiping the sweat from her brow. Sally was sure it was just in her head, but tension built between her and Amy, until she blurted out without really knowing why, 'I'm not a lesbian.'

'What?'

'I have a boyfriend!' Sally said, appalled with herself that she had forgotten that in the heat of the moment. 

Amy smiled slyly, 'I have a husband. Do you think yours will really mind, though? The two of us?'

'Well...' Sally paused for thought. 'His girlfriend screwing a hot redheaded time traveller on another planet in the future? Actually, that seems right up his alley.'

'Lots of questions, I expect,' Amy laughed. 'Detailed ones.'

Would Rory understand? Amy decided very quickly that she didn't care; even if he found out, Rory wasn't here. He didn't know what this was like, how it felt. He wouldn't understand, but this meant something to her. It was control over her sexuality, the first she had had for days, and she had taken it for herself. 

Rory didn't know what it was like to wear this damn Command Collar, but Amy did, and the sheer demoralizing reality of the metal ring around her neck made Sally a necessity. What they had done was permitted, and if Rory had a problem with it, he would just have to deal. 

'Hey,' Sally said suddenly, intruding on Amy's thoughts. 'D'you think Lorna's been gone an awful long time? I'm starting to get w-worried.'

'We've got no way of knowing, really,' Amy said. 'We don't even know how big this city is. It could be that she's only halfway there, even. But she's a soldier, Sally. From what we've seen, this is a tourist destination... I don't know that there's many people she couldn't handle, here.'

In that moment, as if to showcase once more that the universe operated on principles of dramatic irony, the door burst open. For the few second it took for Amy to turn her head toward it she held doggedly onto the hope that it was just Lorna, being uncharacteristically rough, but that hope soon vanished.

The doorway was filled with a bulky alien figure, pointing a handheld device that Amy couldn't identify at her. A second later it pulled a trigger inset on the device, and a laser light flowed from the tip into the centre of the room, before dissipating. Amy heard her Collar beep.

'Collars scrambled,' The figure said, in a voice like sandpaper over flesh. 'Command: stand up.'

Amy squeaked as her body obeyed, feeling that strange lack of control that she had so far practically avoided with Sander. She stood up straight, legs stiff and staid beneath her. Behind her, at the window, Sally had done likewise, immobile as control of their Collars had been placed in the hands of this stranger. Worse, from her new position Amy could see past the new holder of her electronic leash, to the human man behind him...

Keeping a tight hold on an ashen faced Lorna...

'Command: get in line with your friend and follow us. No deviations,' The alien growled. When it smiled, its teeth were filed into points, 'We're going for a little walk, ladies.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 28



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi everyone, I'm back with another... thing. I'll be trying to push these out a little faster now that I've got a run up on them, and also get Rising back into a schedule, so look out for that. Otherwise, please vote or comment, because I pay attention to every one of those, and enjoy!

Kurokami

**********************

Amy didn't want to go down the stairs. There was something inexorably ominous about them; mostly, she thought it was the door at the bottom of them. It was a thick, heavy thing, definitely metal, though Amy couldn't peg the kind; the point was, this door was designed to be closed, to stay sealed shut.

To trap.

But her feet were moving of their own accord, bound to the orders of the pair of strangers that had kidnapped her and the other girls. Sally and Lorna trailed in her wake, expressions wary, as the doorway swallowed them up, one by one, until they were back into the belly of the beast. As the reptilian alien that had initially captured them pulled the door shut behind them, Amy felt like screaming; they had been so close! 

It wasn't right, they had escaped! Gotten away! Free from Sander's clutches, only to be shunted right back into captivity by the same Collar that had made them his slaves to begin with. Troublingly, the Command Collars they wore seemed to have been reprogrammed, hinting at the possibility that they weren't just going to be handed back to their original kidnappers. The unknown aspect of that was somehow worse than the prospect of being handed back to an angry Sander.

What had they gotten themselves into now?

The floor had a gentle downward slope to it, and glowed bright enough to light the long hallway they found themselves in more than adequately; it also had the additional effect of throwing up strange shadows over the faces of everyone therein. When Amy looked back, the sheer hopelessness on Sally and Lorna's faces had been accentuated to almost absurd degrees by the dark lines now there. She knew she shared the expression.

They were heading underground. Nothing good happened underground.

They passed a number of branching pathways large enough to fit cars through, two abreast, before finally reaching their apparent destination; Amy couldn't tell how far they had descended, but she could tell it was too far. There was another door here, just as imposing as the first, and their alien guard shouldered it aside with minimal effort, ushering them through another set of hallways and then, finally, into a large circular room with a balcony ringing its second floor. And it was populated. 

Some of the beings above were just passing through, moving through one passageway to another. But others stayed at the railing, looking down onto the room and its occupants, a multitude of gazes following Amy and the girls. The crowd varied, potentially more so even than the Olivan; aliens and humans of various shades, shapes and sizes lined the railing, some spaced apart, others in groups. The second floor seemed to be the main thoroughfare for the room, a meeting space for... whoever these people are.

The ground floor, by contrast, was almost deserted; guards stood by the exits to the room, but other than that the only occupant was a single man, clad in a black uniform with a complex insignia on the lapel, standing tall with his hands deep in his pockets. It was to this man that the captives were led, and commanded to stand before him, side by side. Amy kept her eyes focused on the other girls, drawing what strength she could from their presence; for once, she was not alone. 

'Eyes front, Red,' The man in front said, voice strong enough to snap her attention to him immediately. With that done, he began to pace parallel to the girls, addressing not only them, but the shifting watchers above them, 'This is a balancing act, initially. There is always an element of subjectivity, especially with slaves like these, which I am assuming are escapees... We strive for maximum psychological impact, and this is going to change from person to person. You're all aware of the first step as outlined in the Guild training guidelines, but there are multiple methods for this, each with their own uses.'

He stopped, ran a hand through his mop of brown hair, 'Slaves, disrobe.'

'What the hell is going on here?' Amy spoke up finally, trying to inject as much force and volume into her voice as the man before her had. In an ideal world, this would also have had the dual purpose of erasing her fear, but she was more than aware that it failed to do this.

'Were you not informed?' The man tilted his head. 'In that case, let me be the first to give you the good news: congratulations ladies, you are now exclusive property of the Chrysanthemum Guild. And I'm not going to ask again: strip, or you will face punishment. I am sure you understand what that means.'

Amy did; she still had nightmares about the kinds of punishments this future could produce. The nerve-ravaging pain of Sander's old Arclight System featured prominently, but she was in no doubt that there was plenty of others. And more importantly, Sander had been compelled to hold back from outright injuring her by his fear of the Doctor...

Resigned, with fear pumping through her veins like liquid helium, Amy's hands went to the straps of her dress. 

Sally looked over, took her cues from Amy and followed suit, blushing furiously. The thought was strange to Amy, but she supposed in situations like this, she took the lead; Sally and Lorna had, lucky for them, very little experience with slavery like this. Being the group's leading expert on sexual slavery struck the Scottish girl as more than a little disappointing. Soon, all three girls were stripping for their audience.

Though Amy had acquiesced to the idea of obeying here, she couldn't help the tidal wave of frustration and shame that swept over her. It was something she had to fight through, to physically force herself to continue; this was exactly as hard as her first time stripping in front of Sander. She could only move slowly, taking deep breaths and swallowing down panic, her cheeks burning as she revealed inch after inch of skin, slipping her dress down her shoulders.

'I have been told that two of these slaves had been suffering under an unrestricted psychic intrusion when they were discovered, no doubt at the hands of their previous owner,' The stranger addressed the crowd yet again, as they stood transfixed at the girls' increasing nudity. 'Now of course, the telepathic damping field around our property has cut them off from that, and this is useful: they are cut off from their Master or Mistress, locked out and alone. Having them disrobe themselves, as opposed to being forcibly stripped, helps to solidify this, in addition to deepening their humiliation through having to use their own hands.' 

He glared at the girls, apparently displeased with their speed, 'Of course, that doesn't discount the use of force if their reluctance renders them inconvenient...'

The captives sped up.

Amy, and moments later Sally and Lorna too, opted to and this in an instant, like tearing off a band-aid; she simply let go, allowing her dress to drop to the floor. As she stood up straight, the shock of suddenly being naked in front of so many people hit her as hard as if it were a fresh feeling; she almost moved to cover herself, catching the impulse at the last moment and standing tall. Amy had long legs and, if she tried, an almost dignified bearing, and standing tall, even while naked, made her bear up slightly better than average. 

Despite the fact that her heart still thudded in her chest, her blush creeping down her pale skin...

The stranger strolled up and down a line-up of naked flesh, almost daring the girls to flinch. Amy was the most resolute, staring straight ahead despite her vulnerability, but Lorna was the most relaxed; the former had gotten used to challenging the universe to a fight, and the latter had spent most of her life in or around nudity. Despite this, both felt inwardly as bad as Sally looked outwardly; the young woman was afflicted with a deep red blush, shrinking into herself as the countless eyes above beat down upon her. It was likely she had never been in a situation anything like this before. 

She even took a small step back when the orator got closer, his relentless pacing bringing him nearer and nearer with every circuit. He looked each girl in the eye in turn, silence ringing through the room.

'Which one of you is going to have the spark of rebellion? Hmm?' This time his voice was low, addressing the girls specifically for the first time. 'There's always one in every group. One who fights to assert themselves, to prove they won't be broken. So which one of you is it?'

He stopped in front of Amy, levelling his gaze exclusively on her. For what seemed like eternity he stared, and Amy dared not look away, though not merely through fear; she didn't want to be the one to prove him wrong.

'I think it's you, Red. I think you're my little fighter, this time. That's good,' All of a sudden, he gripped her chin tightly, drawing himself close enough to whisper in her ear. Still, she didn't recoil, 'I might not even break you down. There are some who like a little spirit. They pay more! In this business, fire sells...'

He pulled away, pacing again as though nothing had happened. Amy drew in a shuddering breath, eyes wide; nothing in what he had just said boded well for the future. Words tumbled from her lips.

'What are you going to do with us?'

'Yes, it's going to be you,' The stranger nodded, before gesturing to the pair that had marched them into the room. 'Take them to Induction and Appraisal. If anyone wishes to observe, allow them to. It should be instructional.'

He turned away, and Amy felt the prod of a finger between her bare shoulder blades; she moved as it directed, not willing to risk being turned into a puppet for her Collar again. As she was ushered down another hallway, she heard the stranger continue to talk, the words fading out only as the door closed behind her.

'The next step from here is an in depth process of examination and evaluation. Our specialists conduct a battery of tests...'

This place seemed to bustle with activity; people of various shapes, sizes and species drifted past the trio as they were led away. Amy had to actively fight the desire to cover her nakedness moment to moment; what would be the point? Anyone passing by would be able to see whatever she couldn't cover anyway. Instead, she concentrated on walking as casually as she could, avoiding any undue attention; behind her, Lorna did likewise, her bare skin not even a bother to her.

Once again, Sally provided the contrast; she hunched over, one forearm covering her breasts, as the other went to shield the spot between her legs. She walked awkwardly, her gait made unsteady by her odd posture and her insistence on keeping her distance from everything that went by her nude form.

And of course, it had the opposite effect; only the girl trying to hide even hinted that she had anything worth hiding.

The effect varied from person to person; some of the passersby seemed uninterested, their gazes continuing past the captives after momentarily alighting on them, as if this was a daily occurrence to them. For all Amy knew, it might well be; this Chrysanthemum Guild didn't appear to be entirely family friendly. 

Others stared openly, with either curiosity or undisguised desire; some even reached out to touch them, only to be immediately rebuffed by their captors, with a growled warning that this merchandise was not to be touched. The very words made Amy's shoulders knot tight; she was tired of being merchandise. The Collar around her neck was inescapable, but even without being tied to a Master, it was a symbol, a marker of captivity. Of ownership.

Of submission.

She hated the way it made her feel, as though her own body was an enemy. Even now, stripped and watched and heading to some unknown future, Amy couldn't help the sickly thrill of excitement that threaded through her body; it reminded her of her first few assignments as a kissogram. Admittedly that had been less hostile, but the feeling had been the same; heading off into an unknown world charged with sexual intensity, where she would be entering not only as the centre of attention, but as an object at the centre of attention. 

God, the way she had touched herself after that first job, hidden away in her room...

The next door slid open automatically, revealing a stark white room crested with a sign denoting it an examination room. A number of high tech gynaecological tables were lined up against one wall, though these featured imposing looking shackles, indicating that those that ended up on the table often didn't want to be. Machines that Amy couldn't begin to guess the purpose of were arrayed everywhere, sitting on racks or suspended from the ceiling. A projection window at the far end of the room displayed an image of space, resplendent with stars, and beneath it a hunched figure sat bent over a desk, apparently absorbed in whatever went on there.

But it was not he who spoke first.

'Ah, you brought me some newbies!' The voice came from a far corner, obscured from Amy's view. 'Nico! We got work to do!'

'Put them up on the tables,' The visible man grunted without moving. 'I'll be with them in a moment.'

'Yeah, yeah...' Then it stepped out into the open, and Amy's eyes widened.

It was a Trine-form.

This one was male, and sported deep green hair as opposed to Lysithea's blooming pink, but his milk white skin and yellow eyes left gave him away; he grinned widely upon looking the girls up and down.

'Huh. When was the last time we got an all human group, Nico?' He asked.

'Grelle, I am trying to work, here,' Nico didn't so much as turn his head. 'Just put them up on the table, let the medical A.I deal with them for a while, and I'll be there in a moment.'

'Does your bed only have a wrong side, dude?' The Trine-form sighed, but did as he was told, beckoning the captives over to three of the tables in a line. After a moment's hesitation, Amy took the lead, seating herself on the middle table, finally allowing herself, in the relative privacy of this single room, to cover her chest with one arm. 

Not that it mattered, in the end; Grelle gently guided Amy to lie down, taking her wrists and manacling them tightly above her head, before situating her legs in the stirrups and locking them in just the same. As he busied himself with Sally beside her, Amy spoke up.

'If you've got control of our Collars, why bother with the restraints?' She asked.

'By request,' Grelle grinned. 'Who says we don't like a bit of struggle?'

'Oh, that bodes well,' Sally squeaked.

'Just a bit of an exam, ladies,' Grelle said, moving on to securing Lorna. His tone was soothing, but his manner, plus the unscaleable fact that he was standing over three naked and tied down women, was anything but, 'We wouldn't presume to just ask you about yourselves, since you might just lie. But we'll find out what your deal is, don't you worry. Just let me boot these things up...'

Each table had an inset control panel, and Grelle went down the line, tapping commands into each one. In sequence, the large screen on the wall beside the row of tables displayed the vital signs of the chair's occupants, with numerous details left blank, ready to be filled in.

'And now it's time to figure you out...' Grelle said, hefting a strange, gel-coated rod in one hand, a thick black cable trailing from one end of it and into the bottom of the screen. It took him a moment to register the fear in the helpless women's eyes, 'Oh, don't worry about this, it's for me. Gotta have something to transfer the data I dig up to the system. Hey doc, they healthy?'

Finally, Nico swivelled his chair around, casting his gaze momentarily to the screen and its attendant medical readouts, 'Yeah, healthy enough. Signs of stress, but that's hardly surprising. Hurry up, do your spoon bending shit, Grelle.'

'"Spoon bending..."' Grelle muttered, gently placing his palm to Amy's forehead. 'Now, just stay still...'

In some ways, Amy was glad the alien had chosen her first; this would have been too much for Sally or Lorna. At least she knew what she was in for, her time with Lysithea had prepared her somewhat for what was to come. She closed her eyes at the Trine-form's touch, tried to stop herself from resisting at the first intrusions to her mind. It was subtly different to Lysithea's mind, more insistent, pressing in against her senses in a way that made her feel far more vulnerable even than her naked body below. But the end result was the same; Grelle's influence slowly lowered itself into her...

And opened her mind.

***************

'This is not what I envisioned when I was told we were searching the city!' Mara groaned, rolling onto her back. Her keyboard and its attached hologrammatic screen followed, propped up on her thighs. Beside her, Sander continued typing, absorbed in his own screen.

'We don't live in a movie, Mara,' He said absently. 'Fact is, we can't just go pounding the pavement until we run into the girls, we have no idea where they went. But the Arcology surveillance system does, so that's a good start.'

'But it's hard!' Mara was well aware she was just whining to whine; this was too important to simply give up on, after all. 'Where's Jericho in all this? Shit would be so much easier with an A.I.'

'Just keep working, Mara!' The problem was that they had an entire city to observe and several hours of time to observe it in, Sander realized, and just maintaining access to the observer system required constant upkeep. The security programs were easy enough to fool, but like most anti-intrusion measures these days, they were learning programs; limited memory made them somewhat forgetful, enough for one to be able to cycle through a set of disabling measures, but none of those could be automated. 

Ultimately, it was just a pain in the ass.

'Uh, Sander?' From the other room, Tsugi called out, leaning back so his face was visible past the door frame. 'You may want to check this out...'

'What's up?' He answered, abandoning his computer to the floor and joining his compatriots. He leaned in to regard Tsugi's work; a sample of looping footage showing three figures sneaking into a building.

'There they are,' Tsugi nodded. 'Well, Amy, Sally, and Lorna anyway. Haven't found Christina yet, and the footage doesn't show them leaving, but it's a start. I dunno what's up, there's something wrong, like a jump in the camera feed... there!'

He pointed, and Sander made a rough sound of agreement, 'Yeah, I see it. It's a lead, anyway: good job guys.'

Sander was already en route to the door, grabbing his coat, 'Mara, we're up! Let's take this on the road!'

*******************

An odd form of contemplative silence had fallen upon the examination room, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of it. With a long, deep exhalation, Nico looked over the three girls in his care, eyes narrowing.

'Time actives,' He said, in a low voice. It was more a statement of fact than anything else; one thing Amy had learned very quickly was that the doctor was an entirely blunt man.

'I think our fee just went up,' Grelle leaned back in his chair, swaying it from side to side. 

'The highlight reel alone will drive up the asking price a couple million,' Nico said. 'Better get admin on the line, they'll want to hear about this before we continue the examination.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 28



'You rang?' One of the personal screens flickered to life, displaying the strange orator from earlier. 'I'll admit to some interest in these three. What have you found?'

'I am never going to get used to having an A.I controlling our calls...' Grelle sighed. 'These girls are primo stuff, sir. Triple A rating, though the I.V system couldn't price them. They're time travellers.'

'Well, that's good news...' Onscreen, the stranger stroked his chin. 'Time period?'

'Amelia Pond and Sally Sparrow, twenty-first century,' Grelle pointed as he spoke. 'And Lorna Bucket, thirty sixth.'

'Interesting. Find out how they did it, and then put them up on the block as fresh units. No need to potentially contaminate them,' The stranger eyed Lorna for a moment. 'All except the young Miss Bucket. She proved rather violent when our hijackers retrieved her, so send her to the Caestus when you're done.'

'Got it,' Nico switched off the screen, before turning back to the girls, strapped down to their tables. 'Now comes the fun part.'

'Caestus?' Lorna tried hard not to sound nervous.

'Yeah, I do not envy you,' Grelle said, rolling his shoulders. 'Now, stay still, Lorna... It's time to administer the perv test.'

The Trine-form didn't wait for further questioning; instead, he pressed his palm to Lorna's forehead once more, tendrils of thought invading her mind. The soldier had taken her time in the Church's psychic training, struggled with the core concept, but in time she had got it, enough to register intent. The first time Grelle had gone diving into her psyche, he had been looking for general background information, things floating close to the surface of her; her name, age, birthplace. Things she would expect to see on a driver's license. 

But this time, he went deeper, riffled through portions of her memory she didn't want him to see; memories of sex. Of course, Lorna didn't have many, and all of them concerned her kidnappers; she writhed uselessly in her bonds as Grelle unpacked each and every moment of her violation at their hands, one by one, and turned them over, examined them from every possible angle. She was forced to lay there and take every deep thrust, every phantom orgasm, everything that had been done to her since she had landed on Trismestigius.

And it left Grelle bored.

The green haired alien pulled away rather quickly, a look of dissatisfaction and near disappointment on his features; had he been looking forward to this?

'Lorna Bucket,' He said. 'Experience: limited.'

'That's a market all on its own,' Nico said, stretching. 'Especially now we're sending her to the Caestus. The specialists will come out in force for an inexperienced Gamma girl. You watch.'

'Oh, I know. Now, who's next?' Grelle pushed off with his foot, his chair wheeling down the line, all the way to Sally. 'Let's switch up the order a bit, eh Sally?'

Again he anchored himself physically to his captive, slipping under the surface of her consciousness like a hypodermic needle. Sally provided a greater wealth of experience, sweet memories, sour ones, flowing through her mind in a river, that Grelle could pick through at will. 

He pored through her memories, slipped down to the deepest layer and made his way back up in reverse order; her first time, in her boyfriend's living room, all alone and awkward. Countless bouts of self exploration between that time and the next one. A drunken dalliance at a party with someone she had been too nervous to call the next day. The scent of sea salt and the taste of lemon on yet another boyfriend's tongue, the two of them ensconced in some secret place on the nearest beach. 

Her first time with Lawrence, her blushing and gangly current paramour. Sander, in all his violent glory, making her feel things she knew she shouldn't...

'Sally Sparrow,' Grelle pulled away with a vague hint of distaste. 'Experience: painfully normal, with a few good bits toward the end. She's new at this, but as you said doc, there's always a market for fresh meat. Can't fathom why they'd want to go to all that trouble, but I guess I don't have to, in the end. Her time with her previous Master hints at potential, though.'

'So better than we expected, at least,' Said Nico. 'Some experience is superior to none, after all.'

'Depends on who you ask. Remember that guy who'd only take the purest of the pure? We weren't even allowed to touch them,' Grelle took off spinning, sending his chair in a crude orbit down toward Amy. 'Whatever happened to that guy?'

'Ended up selling him a bunch of stasis pods our salvage boys picked up from a Kroton attack site,' Nice grunted. 'Men and women, he didn't care which. Barely even wiped off the frost from the front of the cases, and he wheeled them away with a bunch of fucking robots. We made out like bandits, of course.'

'We always do,' Grelle nodded sagely. 'Alright, your turn, princess.'

His eyes widened as he took to Amy's mind, the wealth of sheer experience he found there worth the price of admission; each memory swirled with an attendant constellation of emotions and context, dark little connotations that Amy was all too aware of. Opening up just one was near impossible; each memory entangled with so many others, each of those in a binary state of Good or Bad... and several that flipped, alternating between the two. 

One thing was for certain: this girl was confused.

Grelle pushed in deeper, found his goal; Amy watched the carousel of her memories in her mind's eye. The alien sifted through her more pleasant recollections in but a few moments, finding them not worth the trouble; Amy experienced her first time, through her first time with Rory- something that still gave her a little shiver- and into their last time together, in the TARDIS, with very little fanfare. It was when Grelle came upon her past with Sander that he paused, allowed himself to examine each in turn.

The alien's mental state flushed with approval, as though he had found what he had been seeking, and for all Amy knew he had; sex memories featuring submission, within a girl wearing a collar? Everything seemed to fit.

He found Sander first, he had to; the man loomed over all of Amy's Bad thoughts about sex, all her memories and, unfortunately, fantasies, were down to him. After all, even her time with Mara and Ren and all the others had been wrought by Sander Hackett, in the end. Amy shuddered, as all at once those memories resurfaced.

Her first time with him came first, the memories rising in chronological order; she remembered being strapped down to that table, felt every probing touch not just from Sander, but from Mara and Shimizu too. Being taken by his cock. Waking up in that cell... and the taste of him in her mouth.

From then, it all came rapidly; the Arclight system, Theros, Chroma city, Shangri-la and Nirvana, her rescue and eventual return to his clutches on that psychoactive beach. How odd, that she now found herself in a situation where she longed to return to Trismestigius, where at least the dangers were known. 

'Amelia Pond,' This time, Grelle spoke even as he continued searching. As Amy relived her first time with Ren, he continued, 'Experience: interesting. This one's got some fun stuff for the highlight reel. Might even save some for later...'

'Yeah, I don't need to know about that,' Nico shook his head. 'Can we move on to the physiological tests already?'

'Aww, look at that. Was that enthusiasm?' Grelle grinned. 'That looked like genuine enthusiasm. Cute! You do your thing, I'll be over here...'

'Well, let's kill two birds with one stone,' The doctor said. 'I want to conduct these tests with a mind to the psychological ramifications, see if we can't build a little profile on their sexual reactions through the stress tests, so tell me Grelle: which do you think would react the best to humiliation?'

The alien's yellow eyes zeroed in almost immediately, 'Amy.'

The redhead's heart sank; was this the way this was going to go, now? She hadn't been able to fight against the Trine-form's mental prowess, had been forced to watch helplessly as he pulled apart her mind and made all those memories she had tried so hard to hide float to the surface. He knew everything she wanted nobody to know, and more, he knew more than Sander, now; the kinds of things he had drawn out of her had been buried for years...

'Care to make it interesting?' Nico arched an eyebrow, leading Grelle to follow suit.

'The usual bet?' Grelle craned his neck. 'You'll never win, you know. I feel good about this one.'

'You'd better, there's fifty monies in it for you if you win,' Nico tapped lightly at his keyboard, and between Amy's spread legs there was a series of clicks and the whirr of machinery. She looked down, and her heart sank.

A gleaming chrome cock had emerged from an alcove below the table, and was advancing steadily toward Amy's open and vulnerable nether regions. It only took a few moments for the tip of it to nudge aside her lips and slide, with inexorable slowness, inside her, making her thighs twitch and try to pull together; despite her best efforts, the stirrups remained locked, unyielding against her struggling. 

'There's our physical stimuli,' Nico said. 'Let's go for our psychological, now... Sally, Lorna, Command: look at Amy.'

Resignedly, the girls at either side of Amy tilted their heads, apologetic eyes setting on her squirming, naked form, as the shaft between her legs pumped in and out with an almost absent air. All at once, a kind of invisible pressure settled upon Amy's skin, and she could see the contours of the future laid out before her; being watched altered the entire makeup of this violation.

'And a little more...' Nico said, backed by the sound of further typed inputs. The ceiling above the girls was adorned with multiple gently curving panels, and at Nico's words the ones above Amy rippled, flowed like water for a moment as their surfaces silvered, became reflective. 

And just like that, Amy was trapped.

The machine started moving in earnest, driving into the redhead's open and spread pussy, filling her with metal that was oddly warm to the touch. It vibrated, pulsed in strange rhythms, but it hardly mattered; subconsciously Amy knew that being fucked like this would have been enough to make her react, even without the vibrations. It was the sense of being forced, that wound its way around her nerves, made her body acquiesce, play the traitor to the sensations that flooded her. Only this was so much worse, because she was trapped.

Everywhere Amy looked, there was that terrible pressure, the weight of... what, exactly? To the left of her was Sally, eyes wide and shining, watching. To her right, Lorna, with a more innocent gaze, a vague hint of moralizing hiding behind it. Both of them watched, as Amy succumbed, gasped, moaned and shuddered, trembled in her bonds as the machine fucked her. It filled her with itself, and all Amy could do was feel herself climb higher and higher, toward that same inevitable, forced peak she had climbed so many times before.

But looking up was the worst. The panels on the ceiling had become mirrors, perfect in clarity, and in them... there she was. Her naked body, splayed out and pale in the unforgiving lighting, bare breasts bobbing with her deep, shuddering breaths, legs spread out and taking whatever her captors saw fit to give her. The treachery of her flesh was rendered in incredible detail for her to see, and suddenly she knew exactly what was happening.

It was the weight of shame.

And it was a different kind of shame to what she had experienced before. This was humiliation with accountability; her friends could see her give in to the machinery working inside her. She could see it. Her Judas cunt was on full display, and not only these strangers, but the people she called her allies could see it enjoying this treatment.

Oh, Amy had been watched before, she knew; Sander had arrayed countless strangers before her as he used her in Shangri-La, and of course he and his crew had seen her do all kinds of things... but they were the enemy. They were the cause of her humiliation; Lorna and Sally were the women she had escaped with, her sisters in suffering. The forcible pleasure racing through Amy's body now was a betrayal of them as much as it was of her conscious mind, an admission that no matter how she struggled, there was some small part of her grinning as she came. 

And she hated that.

Keeping her head straight was preferable to the sympathetic stares of Sally and Lorna, but the mirrors above forced Amy to confront the reality of just how easily she gave in to the lightest of stimulation. All it took was a sex toy and a couple of gears; she could see it in excruciating detail. The signs of her unbidden lust were so apparent, she could hardly imagine that the others in the room could miss them; her nipples were tight, a creeping red blush colouring her cheeks. When the fucking machine withdrew, it glistened in a cruelly obvious way, coated in a sticky layer of her wetness.

'We're all watching, you know,' Grelle's voice bloomed to life in Amy's mind, echoing in time with the throbbing rhythm of the machine. 'Look at you: weren't you brought here against your will? We all are. We're watching you give in, so very easily.'

Amy felt her blush only intensify, the Trine-form's voice filled with judgement and amusement. And yet, her flesh revelled in it, her skin aflame, pussy sopping wet and hungrily accepting of the machine's powerfully thrusting cock. The world had shrunk in, contracted down to the quivering of her flesh, the dripping heat of her pussy and its attendant invasive toy, and the stares of those around her. That pounding drumbeat of attention, of the only allies she currently had seeing her give in so easily... her toes curled.

And she hated herself for it.

Up above she saw herself writhe, saw her body overheat saw everything she was recede into a wanton body, moaning and rolling her hips into the inexorable machine that was, she reminded herself, abusing her. The reality of it, stark and right in front of her, slammed into Amy over and over; always a new surprise, no matter how many times she saw it.

When her orgasm hit, it was a sudden shock, a hammer blow to her nerves, her back arching off the table, muscles tightening uncomfortably. She couldn't help but cry out, a full stop on the end of her humiliation, long and shuddering, trailing off into embarrassed silence. Amy shrank into the table, uselessly trying to hide herself away, and yet the machine kept moving, making her grit her teeth. 

'And, winner,' Grelle grinned, spinning his chair around to face Nico.

'Yeah, yeah,' Nico sighed. 'Money in your account by tonight. But the question is, how far can we push this?'

Grelle turned back, 'What do you think, girls? Will the machine make Amy cum again? Don't stay quiet, or I'll just use the Collar.'

'Yes,' Sally's voice shook when she spoke, but the fact was, she had spoken without being Commanded, and she had agreed far too quickly for Amy's liking. Her assent dropped like an anvil to the pit of Amy's stomach; there was no getting around it now. Sally at least, understood the scale of her body's inbuilt treachery.

And despite it all, with the machine still working inside her, she still couldn't stop herself from responding.

Her friends watched as the robotic cock worked her to three more orgasms, each one a higher peak than the last. By the end of the ordeal she was sobbing, tears rolling down flushed hot cheeks, awash in her shame and truly wishing she could just disappear. There was no coming back from this; what must Sally and Lorna think of her now?

Amy lay helpless in her bonds, panting in deep, heavy breaths, pale skin shiny with sweat and trembling with the tension of overworked muscles. When she looked to either side, she saw the soft, gentle pity of her companions, the inescapable damage of being the star of the little fuck show she had just put on. 

How long until that pity turned to something else?

'I'd say that's a pretty comprehensive testament to my telepathy, eh Nico?' Grelle showed yet more teeth, looking more than a little flustered himself. While Nico had maintained a cool and professional demeanour for the entirety of his "test," Grelle had done quite the opposite, showing an inordinate amount of interest in Amy's writhing, moaning predicament. Though an alien, and of seemingly the same species as the normally cool and collected Lysithea, he had certainly proven himself to be a male of the red blooded variety.

'Yes yes, you're wonderful, we get it,' Nico rolled his eyes. 'You were hired for that ability, after all. So, Pond has kink, time active and sexual slavery... nice broad marketing appeal, there. Anything we can get off the other two?'

'Sparrow might get some attraction from the historian crowd... I mean, both her and Pond are twenty-first century old Earth, it would just be a waste to sell Amy to them,' Grelle said, thinking. 'As for Lorna, well... Gamma girl. After her time in the Caestus the Ashlanders might be interested in her. You know how they are around the Foresters.'

The last sentence seemed to put the fear of god into Lorna; the mention of "Ashlanders" in particular sparked her recognition, driving her to near frenzy in her attempts to escape the cuffs that held her to the table. Her eyes were wide, darting around for help and finding none.

'No!' She yelled. 'No, you can't!'

'Command: silence and stillness, please,' Nico snapped, as Lorna lapsed into silence, eyes still displaying the depths of her fear. 'This day has been long enough without your noise.'

The soldier merely whimpered, as the Collar enforced compliance on a body clearly unwilling to give in. Even so, her fear remained evident in her eyes, and the low level tenseness lingering in her muscles. 

'Grelle, I can handle the other two from here, unless you've got something more you're keeping from the scanners,' Nico said. 'Why not take the redhead to be logged, and then down to containment? You know the drill.'

'I really do,' Grelle nodded solemnly. 'Alright Red, sit still while I untie you. I mean, you can fight if you want, I've got no problem leaving you on this thing for another three or four rounds.'

Amy simply closed her eyes and allowed it to happen, rising up from the table with considerable distaste once she had been freed. Without another word- and still debating over whether she even wanted to say anything to her friends- she was led from the examination room, still regrettably naked and more alone than ever. 

She didn't even have time to look back, though she couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad thing.

The hallways of the place Amy had ended up in seemed even more desolate and threatening now that she was alone; Grelle led her through several, past more strange eyes than she cared to count. After a brief stop at yet another console, where she was finally entered into the system and awarded a disturbingly high sale price in some kind of preview catalogue, Amy was eventually deposited in what could only have been a cell; the lack of windows was a crucial hint. Grelle gave her a gentle push, guiding her in before slipping in behind her and closing the door. 

There was something unsettling in that; Amy had been in plenty of cells in the last few days, and whenever someone had followed her in, it had always ended... interestingly. There was a clouded look in Grelle's eyes, a kind of lingering interest as he strolled into the centre of the room, eyes sweeping Amy from head to toe and back again.

'Get on your knees,' The Trine-form's voice was a dead thud to Amy's mind, and though he didn't use the command word to enforce his will on her, she found herself sinking to the floor, resignation spreading through her like black ink through water. What was the point in fighting now?




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 28



The truth was, she had really screwed up, this time; escaping from Sander had only caused a significant downturn in her future prospects, not to mention Sally's and Lorna's. The first steps of her journey out of her captor's clutches had been glorious, freewheeling things, akin to her first moments stepping out of the TARDIS and onto alien soil, a whole new context under a new sky, just waiting to be explored. She supposed she had that too in Selestene, but the point was that Amy had been free, at a time when all she could see was a life without the possibility of rescue, where Rory and the Doctor had become nothing but abstractions. 

And now, here she was, in an even worse situation...

'I got a nice little peek into your mind back there, Amelia,' Grelle spoke as though he was imparting some heart-to-heart secret to her. He stepped closer by the second, 'So I know exactly the kinds of things you've been doing lately. Now, we're definitely not permitted to tamper with high value stock like you, especially when we've got perfectly good public stock out there for employee morale, but... How could I resist?'

All of a sudden, he was standing over her, hands deep in his pockets. With one last look over his shoulder, checking that the door hadn't suddenly swung open and let in any hopes of rescue, he proceeded to not surprise Amy in the slightest; his fingers went to his belt, unbuckling it enough to lower his pants.

'Just this once,' He said in theatrical whisper, winking. 'I've been in your mind, so I know you're familiar with this thing.'

The alien stepped forward again, nudging Amy's knees apart with the tips of his shoes; when he gripped her hair too tightly with one pale hand, any hope of a fight went out of her. He pushed forward, angled his hips just right, and filled her mouth immediately, deeply, to the back of her throat. 

Far more roughly than Sander ever had.

Grelle took a moment to alter his grip, curling his fingers around the back of her head, keeping Amy pinioned in place with distressingly effective strength. Now that she was secured, there was nothing to stop him.

He took great liberties with her, thrusting into her mouth with no care for her comfort. He tasted of nothing Amy had ever experienced before; a strange, oddly smooth taste, nothing like the salty, human taste of the others she had done this for. Not that she had much time to deal with the sensation; Grelle used her roughly, his cock pushing over her tongue before withdrawing, again and again, hard and insistent and more than enough to make her gag. 

Amy choked, closed her eyes against the oncoming tears of discomfort, felt them welling up hotly, prickling at her eyelids, and yet Grelle never stopped; and closing her eyes quickly turned out to be a bad choice. 

Grelle was a Trine-form, after all, and Amy had plenty of experience with their abilities; just like Lysithea, the green-haired man poked through her mind without shame. Memories projected themselves on the insides of Amy's eyelids, as real to her as any other sight, vivid and powerful, replete with all the sounds and sensations of their respective scenes. There was Rory, making love- truly making love to her- for the first time, all awkwardness and elbows in the dark; in any other situation Amy would have found it funny. Now, it elicited only a pang of guilty longing, a desperate desire to be free from this.

There was Sander, taking her on that beach, while she was still struggling to accept the cold reality that she had been fallen back into his clutches. Even further back, there she was on the bed in that cell, taking her captor's cock and squirming in orgasm, shame colouring her cheeks a deep red. Both times she gave in to him so easily, too easily, just as she was now, with this stranger.

And there was Jeff... Jeff...

No, no... not that. Not that one, please...

Amy had resisted the memory before she had even had time to think, everything in her consciousness recoiling from it like it burned. She had been far too obvious, and it was so clear that Grelle had noted her revulsion. He made her witness every moment of that night, in that unfamiliar room in Leadworth, the tip of his cock at the back of her throat for every torturous second.

This time, the shameful tears fell, dripping down her cheeks. Amy just hoped she could play it off as a result of her gagging.

It was also the moment she understood, truly understood what she had fallen into; it was the careless, almost bored cruelty in Grelle's manner. It was the way he sifted through her memories, dug through them as though her mind was a toy box, shrugged off the context of them with none of the care that Lysithea had shown her psyche, and half of the interest. It was the way he shuddered in pleasure, not just at her mouth on him, but at the culmination of each new memory. 

To him, she was just a price. A collection of memories and assorted character traits attached to a numerical value. Just another in an endless series of life forms whose heads he had delved into, catalogued and valued, put on a shelf with no hope of rescue. How long had he done this job? What was the scale of his investment in this? How many minds had he inhabited, felt their fear and despair and hopelessness, their anger and secret shames laid bare to him? 

What could she possibly be, in the face of that, but just another number? Another toy he so rarely got to play with.

Sander, at least, was different; to him, she was Amelia Pond. She was the Girl Who Waited. Companion to the Doctor, mother of River Song and wife of the Last Centurion. Like it or not, he valued her; she was a special commodity, the hostage he seemed drawn to. Her life was something he would fight to preserve. Not so here.

The Guild was uncharted territory. She didn't even really know what they had planned for her, outside of a vague idea. The truth was, she had ended up trading down, sacrificing the relative safety of Sander's care for the wild unknown of a culture she hadn't the first clue about. 

Resistance would be like stepping off of a cliff...

Grelle continued to riffle through her, using her both physically and mentally, raping damn near her entire being. Amy felt her muscles relax, even the potential for a fight going out of her, surrender turning her limp and pliable in his grip. She kept her eyes closed, allowed it to happen; when Grelle came, splashing over her tongue, she swallowed immediately, avoiding tasting it or thinking about what had happened as best she could. She didn't have to let it get to her.

Even so, she couldn't help but sob, as he pulled away.

'I feel pretty confident that you'll keep that to yourself, Amelia,' He said, resettling his pants and zipping up his fly. There was a glint of white teeth, a glimmer of almost savage confidence in Grelle's eyes, 'I don't even think I'll need to use your Collar, now will I?'

She didn't even have the will to glare, opting instead to simply look at the floor and wait. He left soon enough; there probably wasn't much use in hanging around in a slave's cell and besides, questions may be asked if he lingered. The door closed like a full stop on the entire sordid ordeal, leaving Amy naked and alone, somehow in an even worse situation than the one she had woken up in. 

There was a camera in the ceiling, or at least a device close enough to one in appearance that Amy could assume its function, and she spent a moment scowling at it, the knowledge that she was still being watched offensive to her even after everything she had just been through. But being irritated lacked a point; stressing over that would only stop her from her manifold other worries, least of all the current status of Sally and Lorna.

This was the first time they had been separated for a while, and the reality of it filled Amy with a sort of grasping loss, the very real possibility that she might not see them again a large contributor to her situational dread. Everything about this lay heavily in her heart, and as Amy picked herself up off the floor and situated herself on the sparsely furnished bed in one corner, she tried her hardest to ignore the world and drift off to sleep, chasing oblivion with everything in her.

And when she found it, her dreams were filled with domination, even free from the influence of the interface drugs. She struggled in somnolent bondage, shuddered and arched her back as she was violated by the shadowy hands of anonymous captors.

But even without seeing their faces, Amy knew the identity of the man above her...

***************

Sander surveyed the sparse room with a sour expression, grinding his teeth absently, stress building in the back of his mind, weighing him down like an anchor. If Amy and the others had been here before, they certainly weren't now, nor were they anywhere in the surrounding few blocks; he and Mara had returned to the building in question after a painstaking search of the immediate area. Nothing had turned up.

The Phi-sign attested to the fact that this building had been left for interplanetary squatters, nomads passing through the system from elsewhere, so it was possible that anyone could have come through after the captives had entered. Of course, this wouldn't be a problem normally; Tsugi had already gained access to the surveillance devices in the area, after all. But the footage immediately after Amy's arrival had been deleted, or locked away under additional layers of encryption that had yet to be unlocked. 

Of course, this problem was being worked on back in the suite, and Sander had every confidence that Tsugi and Kana would prevail in time, but time was something none of them had. Every moment they spent in the midst of their search was another moment that the hostages got further and further away. And so, Sander's mind worked.

Somebody put that footage out of reach, and so the girls hadn't just walked out of here unassisted. They had been taken. That was just the reality, there was no point in denying it, though the thought filled Sander with a formless, terrible dread, like the air around him had been charged with electricity. 

There were several groups that would kidnap women off the streets that operated in Selestene, and Sander knew all of them by heart. He had forced himself to learn, in preparation for coming here; a Hackett didn't wander into danger without knowing what he might be facing, after all. And this was his old stalking grounds.

The most obvious culprit would be one of the many slave traders that operated within the Arcology, and that was as good a place to start as any; a slave trader would have left a calling card, after all.

It was one of the more viciously mercantile systems in Selestene; slave traders who would steal already owned slaves off the streets had begun leaving an identifying mark around the scene of the abduction, in order to draw those Masters that bothered to look for their property in to re-buy their own slaves at a mark up.

Of course, the authorities turned a blind eye to the practice; this was just another part of living in Selestene. 

Once he had committed himself to the possibility, Sander found the mark with relative ease; making it hard to find would rather defeat the purpose, after all. It had been burned into the wall, low to the ground in one corner. He recognized it immediately. 

'It's the Chry-Guild,' Mara said, somewhat unhelpfully. Sander's fists clenched, anger coming off of him in waves.

'Mistake,' He said, shaking his head. 'Hoo boy. Big mistake. Huge.'

'Sander? What are you going to do?'

'We'd better get back to the suite,' He growled. 'We know where they are now, after all. Better get Ren, Dulcimer... our heavy hitters. Because baby, we are going to war.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 29



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hey guys, y'all know what to do: if you like what you see, why not comment or vote? I'd appreciate it!

Kurokami 

**************

The Showroom never truly shut down. That was because the patrons that frequented it tended to have highly variable hours; the Day People frequented the Showroom at night, and the Night People conducted their business during the day. It was mainly a matter of pride; the kind of person who would buy what the Showroom was selling would only want to do so during whatever their version of the witching hour was.

It was, as the name indicated, a room, though an unusually large one. It featured a vaulted ceiling studded with holographic screens and security cameras, overlooking a thronging crowd of humans and aliens alike, the entire room dedicated to the presentation of various ignominious attractions.

In the middle of the room was the wheel, the centrepiece of the entire operation. It spanned the majority of the floor, impossible to miss even through the mass of people.

It was an enormous cage, and it was there that Amy had been led after being taken from her cell. Her handler this time resembled nothing more than a six foot reptilian rabbit; scales and fur competing on pointed, aquiline features, with long ears flowing down its back. Despite this, there was nothing remotely friendly in it, to give Amy the illusion that she could disobey. It had her leashed, and even the slightest of pulling caused it to growl with unexpected ferocity.

Together, they wound their way through the crowd, her collar attracting more than a little undue attention from the patrons therein; Amy got the feeling that it was only the presence of the bunnydile that stopped them from getting more hands on. Inexorably, they edged closer to the cage, and from this angle Amy could see that it was separated by numerous partitions into sections, like the spokes of a bicycle wheel.

Many of the sections were occupied. She could see Sally in one of them.

The girl was at an angle from Amy's path of approach, looking the worse for wear for her time in the Guild's company. The Trine-form doctor had separated them before they had begun working over Sally, but Amy couldn't imagine that they had treated the brunette any better. At any rate, the girl wore her fear plainly, her heart on her sleeve and beating at a mile a minute. Amy could hardly blame her; she had been dropped right out of the world and into the jaws of monsters. They both had, but at least Amy had been prepared for this somewhat, by her time with the Doctor. 

Her focus had zeroed in on Sally in the beginning, but the closer she and her handler got to the immense cage, Amy realized that the majority of the "spokes" were occupied by beings in much the same situation. Male and female, alien and human, of more variety that Amy had heretofore imagined, filled the traps of the wheel. All were as collared and naked as Amy herself. None of them seemed particularly happy to be there.

Oh, some looked resigned, downtrodden in special, bone-deep ways, and these were the ones who simply stood in the middle of their cages, bare and on display. Others were as frightened as Sally was, covering their nudity just as she did, attempting to hide themselves toward the centre of the wheel, rather unsuccessfully. Some wept, their deep sobs rising above the noise of conversation the closer Amy got to the wheel, bubbling up like sea foam on an ocean of sound. Some raged at their situation, either trying to break free of the cage, or simply yelling, in a multitude of languages, at any that passed by the bars. 

And oh, so many passed by the bars, many of the stopping...

The bunnydile pushed Amy into one of the spokes and gave her one final growl as it sealed her in. It prodded at a panel hanging from the bars, setting it to display, as Amy had seen walking up, a serial number and profile for the contents within. And then she was alone; a product on display. A toy in a shop window. 

It only took a few moments for her to attract some attention, as a pair of human women fell into the gravity well of the wheel close to Amy's spoke, drifting toward her door before zeroing in. They were beautiful, and dressed so well they almost shimmered, and intensely, chillingly disaffected by the plight of the beings in the cage. It was the normalcy of it that did it, giving Amy the sense that whatever world these ladies came from, it was utterly alien, beyond her grasp entirely. The fact that they had human features only made it worse.

They looked her up and down, in the manner one would examine a horse or some other form of working animal, paying special attention to the flanks, before whispering surreptitiously to one another. Amy looked back over her shoulder for support, but found Sally covering herself from the gazes of a collection of bipedal aliens that had stopped by her own cage. 

When she looked back, the women had approached the bars, 'How far you've fallen, time traveller...'

The one who had spoken seemed to just be taunting her, but Amy's attention was drawn to the other woman, who was attaching a pair of adhesive circular pads to the backs of her hands. They hummed deeply, just barely audible over the din of the crowd, but instantly ominous all the same. When an identical hum began issuing from the forward corners of her cage, Amy's hunch was confirmed. 

'Initiating ghost-drive examination tools,' A computerized voice issued from speakers far above. 'Please stand clear of the interdiction field.'

Amy stepped back, though she had no idea what an interdiction field might be, nor even where it might be coming from. That question, at least, was quickly answered; a pair of apertures opened from the solid metal corner segments of Amy's spoke, spilling out a cloud of tiny glittering particles, that hung in the air for a moment before knitting themselves together in a matter of moments. Seconds later, a pair of floating hands made their way down to her; when the woman bearing the pads flexed her fingers, the disembodied digits mimicked the motion.

'Now, let's see...' The woman spoke, and a moment later Amy squeaked, the sound of slapping flesh filling her perception before fading out. 'Nice tight butt...'

And so it went. As the hands explored her body, Amy couldn't help but appreciate them, just a little; as disconcerting as they were, they were at least clean and impersonal... to a degree, anyway. She could see the utility of them; on a truly galactic stage there was no way to ensure that the merchandise here could be handled by every species that might come by without causing damage either to the slaves themselves or their prospective buyers without some form of intermediate. As the ghost-drive appendages caressed her body, so convincingly that if she closed her eyes Amy could imagine a real person attached to them, she knew that they were the perfect answer.

Of course, none of that dispelled what was actually happening to her; here she was, yet again, getting manhandled and molested by strangers, an all too common occurrence lately. Unsurprisingly, there was no restraint in these hands either, artificial or no; they gravitated to the fun parts of her body, indulging with a startling amount of skill for a pair of mechanical proxies. One had moved up, tugging and pulling on one of Amy's nipples, as the other slipped down her ass at an angle that no hand that was attached to an arm could ever replicate. 

It had its own goal in mind.

Again, Amy squeaked, as a pair of fingers tickled up between her legs, boldly over the lips of her pussy. A moment later, the flat metal palm slapped down on the inside of one thigh, before delivering a backhand to her other leg.

'C'mon girl, spread 'em!' The woman controlling the gloves raised her voice above the conversation, calling into the cage. 'I need a better view!'

There was a distressing level of expectation in that voice, as though the idea that Amy would have her own thoughts about what was happening not only didn't matter, but hadn't even occurred to the woman. This was the kind of person who consumed the products of the Chrysanthemum Guild; Amy knew better than to resist. She stood awkwardly, legs spread.

As she did so, she couldn't help the bubbling tide of resentment and sadness that welled up within her, at scales both large and small; she had been to the stars before, but never before now had it all seemed like such a tragedy. 

How much of the universe was made like this? How many of the mechanisms of these interconnecting empires and societies relied on exactly this? Sander had shown her two planets like this, reliant on slave trade to survive... how many more were there? And how many other worlds and industries and people did this touch? How long was the reach of the tentacles of this engine of suffering?

She imagined an endless web, stretching out from Selestene and across multiple worlds, threads of despair made manifest as the slave trade stretched from planet to planet, ensnaring the galaxy...

And on a personal level, she had been caught up in it. Amelia Pond, the Girl Who Waited, fourteen years earthbound and nearly alone, and this was what had done her in. Not the Daleks, not the Weeping Angels, not even the wasting complacency of Leadworth, but the shameful and scuttling darkness of a slave trading post.

And she got the feeling, just from the blasé attitude of the people outside the cage, that there were far worse fates she could have met...

Not that any of that mattered; it was hard to concentrate on abstract concerns when there were all too physical ones knocking on her front door, so to speak. The woman controlling the mechanized hands knew what she was doing; her proxy fingers brushed with unerring accuracy against Amy's clit, before sliding inside her with agonizing slowness. The metal skin of the things was surprisingly warm, seemingly in imitation of human flesh, but every point of contact thrummed as though an electrical current was passing through them. Amy's knees nearly buckled.

'Ooh, look at her,' The other woman, who only watched, gave a gentle smile, her voice low and calm, yet somehow able to rise above the susurration all around them. 'She likes it.'

'Oh, come on, not like you haven't felt this from me,' She who was at the helm of the mechanical digits had to mime each and every action, hands moving through empty air as she wore an expression of intense concentration. 'It's no wonder she likes it.'

Amy gritted her teeth, her gaze slipping away from the watchers on the other side of the bars; she couldn't bear the harshness of their eyes anymore. Especially not as the woman's ministrations provoked such a pronounced effect, so soon; there was an unmistakeable tremble in the muscles of her thighs, and her breath fluttered with the telltale asynchrony of arousal. Perhaps she could hide those signs, but there were others that would be coming soon.

As if on cue, Amy felt the heat rise in her cheeks, down her chest; the redness that followed would be undeniable. But those fingers wouldn't stop, no matter what Amy herself wanted; the palm ground against the sensitive string of nerves in her clit, sending a shiver down her spine.

No. No, she wasn't. It wasn't getting to her. No. She was not going to cum.

Nope. 

Not going to happen.

Oh, god...

But therein lay the trap; it wasn't like the woman at the helm was going to stop until she got what she wanted, and Amy's body seemed to leap at the chance, filling with liquid heat, further and further, at every rubbing, awful caress. Her flesh was her own personal Judas, trampling over every last mental defence Amy erected, until the young woman was gritting her teeth, lower body shuddering to someone else's tune.

No, no, no, no... Please no....

She tried to stop it, to snatch away the bubbling pleasure before it could wrack her slender frame, but it was too late. She tried to settle for second best, clamping her jaw shut to strangle the lingering, reedy moan that rippled up through her throat as her orgasm became a certainty.

She failed there, too.

Climax washed over Amy, so strong she could barely keep to her feet. It was loud, it was noticeable, and it got noticed. From the other side of the bars, both of her inspectors grinned in unabashed appreciation, but they were far from the only ones; a small audience formed around the edges of Amy's spoke, aliens and humans and creatures of all shades, all of them strangers and all of them watching Amy cum, hard.

Worse still, at the edges of her vision Amy could see the occupants of the neighbouring spokes were watching too, fellow captives trapped in audience to her treacherous pleasure. And at the other end of the wheel, still within view, Amy had no doubt that Sally was watching too, as her hips ground against the perverse technology violating her, with every apparent sign of enjoyment.

... Apart from the tears running down her cheeks, of course.

Her unwanted performance seemed to drag on for an eternity to her mind, and it ended in applause; Amy blushed furiously, hotter even than the flush of orgasm that had spread over her pale skin, as the creatures that had gathered to watch expressed their appreciation. A number of lewd comments, shouted over the heads of the crowd and through the bars, crashing over Amy's fragile mind, twisting the knife of shame even harder. 

Amy knew only one thing for certain, in that moment: her value as a commodity had just gone up.

'Well, this certainly seems like an unplanned addition to our shopping list...' The calm woman purred, as her more fiery companion disengaged herself from the control modules to the ghost-drive hands. The pair left a moment later, utterly unconcerned with how they had left the object of their attentions. At one time, Amy might have been able to muster some form of offence at this, and the idea of being discarded still tugged at her pride, but in the moment she could feel nothing but defeat. She slumped to the floor of her cage, eyes locked resolutely on the floor, to blot out the crowd milling on the outside.

But she could only ignore them, not will them away entirely; Amy could hear them beyond the bars, talking to one another, calling out lewdly to her... even lining up to take their turn at the examination tools.

Behind her, Amy could hear Sally crying out, leaving her in no doubt that those same examination tools were being employed to great effect on her. Moments later, the machines in her own spoke roughly lifted her back to her feet, ready to be manhandled once more.

The crowd throbbed, moved like one great, singular organism. Its borders lapped at the edges of the wheel, watchers in every shape and size, proceeding past Amy's increasingly exhausted, hazy gaze. The ghost-drive tools worked almost constantly in that time, borne by countless controllers, fondling and exploring and violating her body in every way imaginable. Those beyond the bars had no care for the aches she developed, nor the groundswell of despair that flooded her features; to them, she was a product. 

It wasn't just Amy alone; all along the wheel, in every spoke, those that had been enslaved were being inspected by those doing the enslaving. The sounds from the cage varied along the general theme of sadness, abuse, and shame. The almost frantic sounds of pleasure from those who had decided to acquiesce completely were the only counterpoint.

In the brief moments that the crowd thinned, Amy could see the workings of the showroom beyond the show floor itself, chiefly the large, raised presence of the auction stage. She could only imagine it had been placed so close to the wheel to put yet more of the fear of god into those that dwelt within the bars as, oddly, nobody from the cage had been taken to the stage yet. Instead, a procession of slaves, collared and in varying states of abject depression, where led from backstage by handlers, fastened to a nearby post and then... the show would begin.

However, Amy couldn't get a good enough look at what that actually entailed; her view of it all was blocked not only by the crowd, but by several spokes of the wheel that stood between her and the stage. No matter; what her imagination came up with was far worse. She dreaded what was to come, but knew instinctively that, beyond this period of advertising to amp up the crowd, her time unsold would be short.

Just then, as if in answer to that thought, the bunnydile returned, snarling wildly at the crowd to disperse them from around Amy's spoke, before opening the cage door to extract the stricken redhead. The moment the cage was open, the inspection tools dissolved back into their component nanomachines. 

Her few hangers on voiced their disappointment that Amy was being taken away, prompting the bunnydile to utter a series of yapping, vibrato noises, that were picked up by a small tag worn around his neck, and relayed in plain English.

'This one is not being taken out of rotation, she is being moved up to the main block,' A stiff, oddly genderless voice sluiced out from a speaker on the translation tag. 'All interested in securing the rights to her should make their way to the bidding floor. Thank you for your business with the Chrysanthemum Guild.'

Amy got the feeling that that last part hadn't been spoken in the alien's language, and had been tacked on as an extra by the Guild itself. It wouldn't surprise her; these people made a business out of robbing others of their freedom, would they really be concerned about robbing the bunnydile of his voice?

Amy was leashed back up and trotted out of the wheel, the crowd parting at the sight of the imposing alien. Perhaps it was the air of authority, or the Chrysanthemum Guild emblem he wore; eyes tended to track them as they walked, following the product to its inevitable destination. Amy's heart could do nothing but sink.

The bunnydile slipped into a darkened hallway, leading Amy through a gate into a kind of holding cell, attaching her leash to a mechanised track on the wall, at the end of a long line. It was hard to adequately describe; the only unifying factor of the slaves, fastened to the wall and waiting for their turn on the block, was that they were in line. There were more species than Amy could count, tugged along forward one by one; the metal loops that held their leashes whirred, forced them all onward, toward the stage. There was a curtain hiding what was going on beyond, and every few minutes the next figure in line was whisked through it by the motors in the wall, out onto the stage to face the bidders. 

Above her connection to the wall, a small holographic readout appeared, displaying Amy's bio; basic stats, measurements, and an expected price. She looked down the line; those holograms were the only source of information she had on many of the creatures that shared the line with her. The being just ahead of her, a wide, blue alien with three eyes set in a vertical line in the centre of its face, inspected Amy without any form of emotion that she could place. She backed away, as far as her leash- and the replenished line behind her- would allow.

Normally she was fine with aliens, and god knows she had seen her fair share, but there was something about this, seeing them in this context, when they were as naked and stripped of power as she was, that made them feel truly alien. She was grateful when the triple-eyed being before her turned back to face the head of the line, trilling a sound that was unmistakably nervous. 

They were all just like her, weren't they? Not just the ones that were human, and showed recognizably human fear, but all of them. Each and every life form in this line was trapped, enslaved most likely against their will and taken away from the lives they had once led. Perhaps there was a little, out of the way village full of wide blue aliens out there, with a wide blue Rory going mad searching for his missing wife...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 29



Assuming the alien ahead of her was even female, that is...

The line kept moving periodically, that curtain at the end devouring captive after captive, divulging them out into an uncertain future. The walls whirred, dragging each of them forward. Amy tripped over her own feet, the tug of the leash an unexpected pressure as she lost herself in the sights and sounds of her surroundings.

And there was so much to absorb; the auction block was like a well oiled machine, its procedures honed to perfection by obvious practice. It was easy to see that these people had been at this for years at least, and Amy wondered precisely how many slaves had been shuffled through this sales department for sentient beings.

The line was fed constantly, more and more destined for the block added to the end behind Amy, until she couldn't tell where she had originally started, as she advanced. The humans were the easiest to pick out; for some reason their familiar forms called to Amy's eyes, their emotions so much easier to decode. Their sadness was obvious, but hard as she might look, Amy couldn't locate Sally; was the poor girl still locked up in the wheel? 

What was better, being locked up there, or facing down the auction block?

Even away from the crowds, the watchful eyes of the guards made up for the lack of cold disregard. They came in all shapes and sizes, the one uniform feature being the near hostile lack of interest they displayed toward the vulnerability of the beings in line. At this point, their presence seemed almost ceremonial; though they had weapons, they remained holstered and ignored. The thought that someone might escape seemed a very remote possibility indeed.

Closer and closer she got, to the end of the line, and whatever lay beyond it. By now she could pick out the sounds that came from behind the curtain; an indistinct voice, raised and wearing the theatrical tone of a salesman. The hubbub of the crowd, as they inspected the merchandise, conferred amongst themselves. 

The constant susurration of commerce in action, driven to evil intent.

It wasn't until she was standing before the curtain that Amy truly felt the need to run. She realized in that moment that some small part of her was still holding out for a rescue, from the Doctor, from Rory, even from Sander. Anyone, really; she was Amy Pond, after all.

Help always came for her... even if it was late, in the end.

And then came the tug of the leash, the pull on her collar, and Amy stumbled through the curtain and out onto the stage, into the blinding light and slithering noise of the auction. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the well lit stage, coming from the general, depressing gloom of the line, but she soon picked out the dais she was being guided toward, and the crowd below it, all eyes focused on her. 

A wave of pure inhibition washed over her from head to toe, leaving in its wake the desire for her to cover herself. Only her utter helplessness fought it down; she knew without seeing that there would be a punishment for hiding the merchandise.

Her eyes alighted, momentarily, on what must have been the auctioneer. Its singular robotic eye rolled to meet hers, before turning back to face the crowd, obeying programming that stated in no uncertain terms who the important people in the room were. The eye was mounted atop the auctioneer's podium, two spindly arms- one bearing a gavel- sprouting from the sides and bending at the elbow toward the top. In some ways, Amy had to admire the directness of the design, the way it crammed the requisite components of an auction together... but at the same time, she couldn't help her offense at not being considered worthy of a real salesman.

But the track her leash was linked to was running out, she had no time to be thinking such thoughts. When it ended, the leash clicked away from her collar, leaving Amy free for the first time, bound only by the ceaseless cumulative pressure of every eye in the room on her pale skin. A nervous, sickly sensation crept over her, as she realized that she was expected to make those last few steps to the dais herself. While naked.

She had had nightmares like this, she was sure.

Amy briefly considered the crowd. How far would she get? Would the buyers bother stopping her? A naked woman tended to stand out in a crowd, but how long could she remain hidden before eventually being spotted? Would it be enough to get away?

Suddenly, something black and oily coiled inside her, complete with the return of that treacherous little voice: what would be the point? Even escaping wouldn't get her off of Selestene...

The collar around her neck suddenly felt so much tighter.

Amy took a deep breath, and raised her chin proudly. She had faced down Daleks, Angels, Cybermen and things too numerous and terrifying to name, she would not walk to her fate here with eyes downcast. These people were merchants in the trade of flesh, slavers, not worth fearing. Sander was a threat, compared to them. Sander had intent...

And you like his intent...

Again, the Judas whisper in the back of her mind. She quashed it down, as she took her first step toward the chasm her life was quickly becoming, but even so she couldn't help but wish for Sander's company right now. He seemed positively friendly, in the face of what was to come. But it had nothing to do with him personally.

She repeated that, once, twice... and before she knew it, she was upon the dais. The pad below her lit up as her weight pressed down on it, making graceful, curving shadows lick up her milky skin, accentuating just the right spots while revealing just as many more to the appraising eyes of the crowd. A tiny screen at the foot of the dais blinked an instruction at her, in insistent red letters: "Stand still, with your arms at your sides. Do not deviate."

Despite the prickling need to hide herself, Amy somehow managed to keep still, with waves of sheer, overwhelming observation washing over her. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on to eternity, without the intervention of anyone in an official position, as if to give the audience time to view the new lot, from head to toe, and it was impossible for Amy to meet every challenger eye to eye. The feeling was entirely disorienting.

And then, it began.

There was bright blue light above her head, as above and all around her, holo-screens bloomed to life, her personal details scrolling down next to a her picture, the smile on her past self's face a hollow reminder that, once, she had achieved her happy ending. 

'Amelia Pond,' The voice suffused the air, issuing so many speakers that it was impossible to determine any individual source, like a cage of silken, flowing sound. 'Lot number: 04396 Rating: Triple A. Time Active, Multiple Proficiencies. Beginning memory scan...'

Amy could barely concern herself with the whirring of some strange machine below her, transfixed with the social pressure of the crowd as she was. Even so, she felt like something had to happen next, if just to break the tension, and was only mildly surprised when she heard the voice in her head.

'Hello again,' Grelle's smooth tones slipped under her consciousness. 'Just sit still and let me do a little live editing, here...'

He didn't speak again, but Amy could feel illusory fingers rummaging through her mind, pulling out memories and images and fantasies... and projecting them onscreen. And in that moment, she understood what he had meant by a "highlight reel."

The screens that floated overhead spilled out her personal life for all to see. Not just the intimate details of her time in Leadworth and, shamefully, those days she had spent with Sander, but even her fantasies, rich and detailed, in painfully high definition. And through that voyeuristic procession, a definite pattern began to emerge.

There she was, surreptitiously pinching her nipples as Rory fucked her, hard enough to hurt, sending pinpricks of pain stabbing through her chest. And there, collared and bent over a bed, screaming in orgasm as Sander took her anal virginity. Next was a fantasy she had gotten off to so many times, the Doctor's hand around her throat as he thrust deep inside her. Now her mouth was full, cheeks burning red, prickling tears in her eyes falling onto the lapels of her phony policewoman's uniform...

And that was the image that twisted the knife more than any other, because Amy recognized the scene very quickly; it was a vignette from Leadworth, before first entering the TARDIS... and that was not Rory she was sucking.

Her eyes dropped to the floor, head bowed to avoid... everything that was happening. It wasn't much of a defence mechanism, but it was all she had. It certainly didn't stop the scan; every minute it played stretched on into eternity, an eon of moaning and slurping and the distinct, familiar sounds of herself in orgasm. Her life had been opened up with surgical precision, bleeding out all of those shameful inner desires and weak moments she had worked so hard to keep shoved to the back of her mind. 

She could practically feel her asking price rising, moment by moment, clip by clip, moan by moan. The slow mechanisms of commerce, powered by her dignity.

When she chanced a look out at the world in which she had been submerged, Amy could see all eyes transfixed on the screens, watching, drinking up every moment with a strange, detached kind of appraisal. Oh, some were definitely interested in what they saw, but not in the way that Sander would be; the fires of their arousal were muted, only embers really. But they were replaced by a mercantile cunning, hinting at the amoral algebra taking place behind their eyes. Amy was profit, and every other person in the room was weighing up how much.

She heard herself begging, voice edged with desperation, debasing herself for Sander so he would let her cum. As the words spread through the crowd, she heard snatches of alien languages, as personal translation software relayed the words in languages more suited for the buyers. There was even text scrolling along the bottom of the screens: the humiliation of Amelia Pond, now with closed captions!

Amy should have been relieved when her highlight reel wound down, the screens dimming, though they never stopped playing completely. It should have been a small mercy, but Grelle spoke in the back of her mind right after, shifting the gears from embarrassment to outright fear, almost deftly, like it was a kind of passive aggressive psychological warfare.

'Want some advice?' He said, and Amy wondered how one could make a telepathic message sound smug. 'Make yourself seem valuable. Smart investments get snapped up, and nobody likes damaging their expensive toys.'

'Bidding begins,' The auctioneer-borg spoke up almost immediately, before Amy had had a chance to absorb the shift in her situation. 'Initial price: Three million standard.'

A much larger hologram bloomed to life above all the others, Amy's highlight reel hovering around it like worker bees around a queen; this screen showed Amy's headshot beside her initial bid and a smaller, blacked out silhouette, clearly meant to display the highest bidder, when one arose.

And one soon did; the smaller portrait rippled, as a hand in the crowd tapped at a personal holo-computer, ferrying a bid through to the Guild's systems. Amy's eyes darted to the face of her prospective owner, heart sinking almost as a defensive preparation. It turned out to be justified; the bidder was an alien, slotted cephalopod eyes set into the front of a distinctly squid-like face. She was going to be bought by Cthulhu.

The next bid took but a second, the shift onscreen happening with shocking rapidity. The new winning bidder was a human, much to Amy's relief; in fact, it was the rough woman from earlier, her first grinning molester. Was that actually better?

Everything the Guild had been doing had prepared Amy for the idea that she was going to be somewhat expensive, with an attendant degree of popularity, but nothing could have made her ready for this; the initial series of bids flickered across the screen so fast she barely had time to register one bidder before it moved on to the next. Aliens, humans, men and women, there was no normal, here, no standard that Amy could see. Every being that vied for her service seemed strange, far removed from the type of person she could meet on Earth.

And her price kept climbing too: four million, five million, six...

Her mind went blank. What was there to think? She could only watch, as her fate was decided by committee, out of her hands at every level. What did it matter, what opinions she formed of the bidders? They would take her whether she liked the look of them or not. She couldn't even stop the advertising screens from displaying things she would rather keep hidden. There was nothing she could do now. 

Amy Pond, who had saved lives and travelled worlds beyond compare, was helpless.

Had she been better off with Sander? Escape had seemed so wonderful, in the moments after closing the door to the hotel room, running down that hallway with the girls. And now... here she was. Hadn't Sander's attentions at least been bearable, compared to this?

She looked up.

The screens were all Sander, now. Scenes from the asteroid base, from Trismestigius... she watched herself getting violated in every way he could devise. She watched herself giving in, failing her own hard won independent spirit, over and over again. When Amy's body went up against Sander's, Sander won. Had she ever walked away from those encounters without doing exactly what he wanted? 

Even one time?

No. Onscreen she came again, exploding on Sander's cock. It was a definitive answer to the question, but Amy needed it not to be. No, no, no. Think of something else...

Rory. Yes. Rory was safe. Kind, sweet, Rory. 

Rory's not enough. He hasn't been ever since-

Amy bit the inside of her cheek, the pain silencing the voice of her own internal treachery, as she visualized her husband and the things he used to do to her. One by one, the visions of Sander were pushed from the screens, replaced by a slideshow of matrimonial intimacy; still not ideal, but infinitely better than what it had been.

The bidding had begun to slow, the numbers too high for the majority of the crowd to surmount. Even so, her price flicked up, bid by bid, the pauses between them growing in increments, as the escalating price demanded further thought from the bidders. 

Higher, higher... human, alien, man, woman...

Eventually the bids slowed to a trickle, then a few, and then a single portrait, dominating the screen, stable and ready. The seconds ticked by, drifting in the stillness, before finally, mercifully, the bid climbed higher. The face that replaced the previous bidder made Amy's heart thud in her chest.

The man from the Olivan! The one that had taken a liking to her, wanted to...

Keep her.

Life as the sex toy of a nightclub owner... would that be better than what she had just escaped? Amy very quickly decided that the question didn't even make sense: "better" was in Leadworth. Better was the TARDIS. 

But the bidding continued, heedless of what she wanted; the owner of the Olivan... Fiori, yes, had gotten himself locked in something of a bidding war with the seafood-flavored alien that had begun the process, what seemed like years ago. The numbers flickered, higher and higher, cracking ten million without ever stopping. Oh, but it would; all auctions had an end, after all. The pricier things got, the closer that would be.

Amy cast her eyes over the crowd, remembering with a kind of horrified fondness the days when she could reliably depend on her husband and her Doctor to burst through doors and swoop in at the last moment. Of course, that fantasy had ended a while ago, replaced with one where the persistent villain wins, and the heroes are nowhere to be seen. Instead, a steady stream of hostile alien buyers filtered in, some taking a place at the crowd beside her, others drifting off into the Showroom, looking for different fare. She found herself realizing that each and every person coming into this place was evil, by definition. 

It was a dizzying reminder of just how badly things had turned out. 

She could feel her price rising by degrees, now at a steady one-two beat as the squid and the criminal traded bids, but Amy didn't dare glance up to see. Her eyes darted from one constellation of people to another, desperate for that last minute reprieve, the one she instinctively knew was never going to come.

When it did, she had to check and double check before she believed it.

The milling crowd parted as he moved through it, just marginally, but it was enough, like the singular entity of the group could sense the purpose in his steps. Through his narrow path he wound his way, slipping down the avenue the crowd had allowed him despite its occasional circuitous nature. He was flanked by the blonde, who knew enough to stick close to him, looking as good as she did in this place. His eyes locked with Amy's momentarily, before he shifted his gaze to continue his journey toward her auction.

Sander Hackett had arrived in the Showroom. 

The bidders had a kind of tidal motion to them; the most active among them were allowed positions closer to the stage, so long as they drifted further back as their bids tapered off. Sander, Mara tagging along close behind, was able to slip through the near impenetrable crush of people simply by offering his palm computer and intentions to bid. Amy's heart thudded in her chest as he drew closer, tension mounting with every moment that he didn't bid, yet Fiori did. All it would take for him to lose his chance was three seconds.

Going once, going twice...

Amy felt tension drain from her bare shoulders as he finally drew up to the edge of the stage and placed his hands on its surface, just shy of touching the dais upon which she herself stood. 

That tension returned very quickly.

He was angry, it was easy to see. He regarded her with a cold, dispassionate rage, the kind that could bend steel. His gaze was long, and steady, locking with her eyes for several nervous, agonizing seconds, before breaking the stare to sweep up and down her body. He had already seen more than enough of it, but Amy- perhaps charitably- assumed he was merely checking her for injury.

But why wasn't he bidding? The numbers flicked higher, but Sander's contribution wasn't among them. Every fresh bid brought her closer to the tipping point, the moment when the bids stopped... there was a time when his opportunity would run out.

Twelve million... Come on, Sander...

He just regarded her coolly, resentment written over his features so clearly, shifting only when he looked aside, toward the other bidders, or some point of interest on the Showroom floor. But for the most part, he just watched; watched her specifically, as if waiting for something. 

The thought slid coldly into her mind: what if he was? His anger was an affront to Amy's independent sensibilities, but it was present. In his mind, she had... failed him, somehow. And he was no rescuer, like the Doctor or Rory; he would need something more. A show of contrition.

No, contrition would mean he actually cared. What Sander wanted was submission.

But she was already naked, stripped and put on display in front of more strangers than there were people where she had come from. Where else was there to go? What could she even do, here? She only had control over...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 29



... The screens. 

Amy closed her eyes, but only for a moment, opening them again to level her green-eyed gaze on Sander, a sign that what happens next, is for him. And then she concentrated. 

It began with a single image, stamped over the screens with stark suddenness, overtaking everything else. Most memories were formed that way, singular clear images around which the rest of the scene orbited with varying degrees of clarity. Amy's cheeks burned to imagine this one; the arch of her back, hips pressing into Sander's, an agonized moan filtering out of the speakers, suffusing the air with a deeply embarrassing penetration. And it only got worse from there.

The collar that ringed her onscreen neck marked the scene immediately, but it was the near perfect clarity of the memory that made it so much worse; of all the moments of her life to maintain at this level of detail, it was awfully telling that the time Sander had forced himself on her in Nirvana had made the cut. The unassailable intensity of their shared telepathic pleasure was lost on the audience, but Amy could remember it all too well, the clear lines of her form as it trembled and squirmed against the restraints she had been put in attesting to that. Her mind's perverse priorities were on full display.

The image flickered for but a moment, her mind shrinking away from what she was doing in shame, but Amy forced herself to continue. This was her, prostrating herself before her kidnapper, begging forgiveness, in a sense. Asking, timorously, and with the only form of communication she had left, for a rescue. 

The crowd had become somewhat transfixed; even those who had stopped bidding stood still to watch the show unfolding onscreen, as Amy humiliated herself for Sander's satisfaction. For his part, a raised eyebrow was the only indication that he had even registered the change. Surely he could only maintain his poker face for so long...

Even the bids had started coming faster; Fiori was responding almost as soon as his opponent could provide a counter-offer. Amy's heart began to sink again, hopes dashing again, after rising at Sander's presence; if this didn't work, at least the Guild would be very pleased with the results. 

Just then, the moment that Sander had, perhaps, been waiting for played out omni-directionally, every last eye in the room raised to the screens for that one, strident moment; Amy came, her gloriously strung up body twisting under Sander's weight, arched and naked, pale and awful in the unexpected eroticism of the moment. Her voice, raised in climactic shock, echoed through the Showroom, so loud that even the slaves trapped in the wheel turned to look, witnesses to her body's treachery. 

Amy closed her eyes, cheeks burning, all too aware of her nakedness in this context, as the sound of her orgasm dropped away into nothingness, leaving a deep well of silence in its wake. Silence in the Showroom; such a rarity, it marked the end of her humiliation like a full stop.

Amy shivered, fidgeted in the quiet, as a groundswell of murmuring picked up from the crowd, a low sound, as if rising from the floor. The sudden click of another bid being entered into the system practically filled the room; Amy turned, saw Sander's eyes staring back at her from the main screen. Everything in her relaxed, all at once; it had worked. Sander was rescuing her.

And a damn sight faster than the Doctor ever had... 

Amy shuddered, but couldn't escape the rising feeling of safety that bubbled up from the soles of her feet. Treading the floors of Trismestigius once more would be infinitely better than the meat grinder of human misery she had found herself in outside of Sander's protection. There was something oddly... powerful, about him now. All he was doing was manipulating his little readout, the same as any other bidder, but he radiated control in ways the others didn't. It was an unearthly sort of calm, coming off of him in waves.

He bid without even a moment's thought, eclipsing his opposition at every turn; their bids barely stood for a second at a time before he overturned them, topping their offering by only a hundred credits at a time. This small increase allowed the offers to come faster now, the three still in the game warring over screen real estate as the numbers flew through the wireless network overhead.

This had never been an issue of wealth, for him. The only thing he had needed to begin bidding had been an act of contrition. This was him, making a point.

The number flicked higher, and soon the squid had to drop out of the running, leaving Sander and Fiori to furiously attempt to outdo one another. Amy began to wonder exactly how worried she should be getting; Sander might be here, but he wasn't unbeatable, nor infinitely wealthy. What if Fiori turned out to have a more voluminous bank account?

Was that even possible? Fiori owned a nightclub, but Sander had owned a planet. He still owned a moon. Amy had no idea if there was an upper limit to the amount of money he could spend. Even the robotic auctioneer seemed somehow uncertain, as it gazed on at the progressively larger sums of money being tossed around as though it was nothing.

And then, suddenly, it stopped, the stark motionlessness of the numbers coming as a shock after watching them move for so long. At fifteen and a half million, the counter just stopped, frozen in an infinitely tense moment, and it was Sander's image that remained on the screen. Amy had never suspected that it was possible for a heart to soar suspiciously, but hers certainly did; her rescue would almost definitely come at a price for her later.

And of course, there was still Sally, Lorna... even Christina, though Amy had to force herself to be a good person and include her on the list. Would Sander try to get them back on his own, or would Amy have to convince him, somehow? 

The auctioneer-bot spoke up, breaching the stillness with its liquid speech, 'Lot concluded. Sold for fifteen point five standard. Buyer: please collect your lot from Holding. Moving on...'

It was over. Sander had won. Her salvation had been the same man she had escaped from, into the jaws of the Guild. Her journey to freedom had become a full circle. 

She felt an insistent pressure on her collar, as her leash was taken up and she was led away by one of the attendants. Her eyes never left Sander as she allowed herself to be moved, an odd mix of gratitude and suspicion flowing seamlessly over her features. And he stared back, clearly unimpressed, untouched by anything she could show to him. Whether Amy wanted to admit it or not, she had crossed a line in his head.

Amy barely even paid attention to where she was being taken. It hardly mattered, anyway; by the end of the day she would be back in that hotel room, right where she had begun her day, only everything will have changed. It would have to... especially if Sander somehow lost one of his other captives. 

He must have been following them fairly closely, as he entered the room Amy had been deposited in just after her handler had left. Sander closed the door behind him, letting it slip back into its frame with a gentle click, the last sound to pervade the room for the next several seconds.

And then, they were alone together.

His footsteps were languid, tapping things, clicking heel to toe, feet swinging as he walked around her. Amy stood still, unwilling to break whatever it was that kept his obvious anger at bay, allowing her- now official- Master to circle her. His eyes swept her body, searching for... what, exactly? Signs of mistreatment? Amy liked to think so; that would at least be some evidence of caring...

'Look, Sander...' Soon, the silence became too much to bear, and the words tumbled from Amy's mouth, halting only as she realized that she had no satisfying follow up from that. Not that it mattered; Sander cut in the moment she had begun, as though it was what he had been waiting for.

'You know, when I found out where you were, I was fully intending to storm this place,' He said, voice calm enough, for the moment. 'Just me, Ren and Dulcimer. I was going to dope myself up with some combat drugs first, because Selestene has a wonderful array of interesting things one can get on short notice, and I was very angry. Can you imagine why?'

'I-'

'But then Mara pointed out something that I, in my deeply enraged state, seemed to have missed,' He continued without missing a beat. 'That is, the Guild sells people. There was an easier way to deal with this. And she was right, but to me... it lacked heroism. I wanted something more direct. Violent. Obviously, she talked me around.'

Amy turned, unable to stand the pressure of his cool words at her back any longer. Her mouth opened, but this time he cut off even her potential to speak.

'And so I put on my nice suit, and I walked through the front door, instead of blowing it up,' Sander said. 'Because I'd rather calmed down by that stage. And the advantage of being calm is that I figured out what it was I really wanted out of this chain of events.'

Behind her, that same near inaudible click, and Amy knew the door was opening. Something was happening. She felt strangely light, as though her veins were filled with helium, a torrent of sheer nervousness flowing through her. But she couldn't take her eyes off of Sander; his expression dared her to, giving the impression that the moment she turned away he would strike out at her. The final words were coming, the last pieces of the puzzle snapping into place.

'And what I wanted, Amelia, was satisfaction. Something I could only get through showing you the price of defiance,' Now, the anger flickered below the sheet ice of Sander's voice. 'I wanted to look into your eyes as I sold you on to someone else. That is my right, as your owner, after all...'

A tremor ran through her, up her still bare spine, that she couldn't quite shut off. The world had suddenly tilted on its axis again, her safety had been torn away; she had been offered a foothold out of the pit, only to have it crumble under her weight.

And there was Sander, looking deadly serious, though with a strange glitter in his eyes; they never left Amy's, drinking in every pained moment of her realization...

'Ah yes, that's the look,' He grinned, and just like that the moment was over. Sander's eyes flicked up, over Amy's shoulder to regard whoever it was that had opened the door. Amy stood, stock still, like pretending she wasn't there would help matters. But Sander was still in her field of vision, and she could see the relish bubbling up through every inch of him, as he proceeded to give her that final push, back into the pit.

'She's all yours, Fiori.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 30



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read that one first.

I have returned! My apologies for the lengthy wait, fellows! I took some time off to focus on a larger project: my first kink novel. Big news, about that: it's been published! In celebration of this happy day I've pushed to get this chapter finished for the release day, with another chapter to follow in just a week or two (seriously, I'm already like halfway done with it, don't worry!) 

In any case, please do check out my profile if you'd like to know more about my debut sexy novel, "Suit, Tie, & Chains." If you like Panic Moon I'm sure you'll like the flavor of kink present there. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter, and thanks for your patience, you wonderful people!

-Kurokami

***********

Amy collapsed onto what she was increasingly beginning to call her bed. She couldn't stop trembling.

The low blue light streamed out from the depression above the bed, spilling over the abundance of exposed skin that she sported. That was the point, she supposed; the light was colored strangely, designed to caress the skin, enhance her natural charms while playing down her imperfections. Exactly what one would expect, from a sexual technician like Fiori.

It had been a week, since Sander had pushed her into Fiori's grasp and, without stopping to listen to her objections, or even looking back, left Amy behind. But oh, the Olivan had been there. The Olivan had enfolded her like a suffocating hug, and before she knew it, Amy had become a part of it. 

In some ways, this place reminded her of her past job as a kissogram; there was certainly no end to the costumes. She had been cycled through all manner of prurient, visually pleasing finery in these past seven days, from standard clothing through to elaborate, skimpy costumes, and even just layers of body paint, the colors constantly shifting in complex patterns over the curves of her body. None of them she would have chosen for herself. All of them bared parts of her she would rather have covered. 

Even Amy had had to admit that she had looked like some kind of artwork daubed in the paint, but the fact that so many strangers had been given the same eyeful rather soured the memory. She had been on display, given a day job as just another ornament for the Olivan, scuttling around the front rooms like any other club girl. There was always something to do; drinks to serve, dark corners to light, and always, the endless supply of patrons looking for something to grab onto. They took to her warm body with an easy nonchalance, entitled in a dizzyingly offensive way.

But the front rooms were infinitely preferable to being sent to the back, no matter how many groping hands she had to deal with. Amy had been told on her first day in the Olivan that the back rooms were where the money was made, and after spending a few hours there at the end of the day, she knew why. 

When she had started her job back in Leadworth, before she had so much as slipped into that tight little policewoman's outfit, Amy had met with a woman from her agency who had laid out, in no uncertain terms, what the limits of her responsibilities would be. This was important, because the agency was respectable; the list was based more around the things she should not do, rather than those that she should. 

Over the course of those few hours she had been made to cross all of those lines; the collar at her neck had made her leap gleefully over that border and into impropriety. The Olivan represented an inversion of her kissogram job; the simple act of winding up men was the purview of the front rooms. The rear guard took them all the way to satisfaction.

And when a portion of the wall faded away and a tall figure entered the room, Amy remembered the other difference.

Fiori...

Amy found herself kneeling beside the bed almost automatically now, palms down on her thighs. The near silent, imposing man had taught her this on her first day, and the tone of his voice had made it clear that disobedience was not an option. He almost never used her collar to control her, merely relying on expectation and Amy's natural uncertainty about how far he would go to combat defiance. 

The bald man looked her over dispassionately, but Amy knew better than to think he was actually uninterested. She had spent a lot of time watching him, she had to, and by now she knew that his cool exterior was just a façade, and inside he was deciding how to punish her.

Oh god, oh god, what had she done now?

'I had a number of guest reports on you tonight, Amelia,' The rules were so numerous, none were ever explained until she had broken them... 'Very few of them were satisfactory.'

The meaning behind the words dropped into place without Amy even needing to hear the sentences themselves: pain was coming. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered how she had performed out there tonight, her customers would have given bad ratings anyway, because they knew what would happen to her when they did, and frankly, they liked the idea. It left her with the choice of trying to please them, betraying her inner need for defiance in the process, or just surrendering and allowing the inevitable to take place.

'I'm sorry, Sir,' Still, backchatting to Fiori wasn't a mistake she would make again. She had been working her full Amy Pond, psychiatrist biting glory her first day here, and all it had gotten her were marks on her ass and breasts that had to be healed by a medi-com unit, and a series of mind-shattering orgasms wrung out of her until she had begged him, with every fiber of her being, for it to stop.

'I'm your slut! I'm your whore! I'm your slave!' Yes, those had been the words that had satisfied him, made her torment recede for the day, but she had lost something valuable in the process of saying them. 

She had lost that little spark that had made her defend the Raggedy Doctor all those lonely childhood years.

Fiori reached down, gripped the front of what passed for her outfit here, and pulled. Amy didn't know of these porny little costumes had been made tearaway or not, but she did know that Fiori loved doing so; under better circumstances, she might not have minded herself, but as the momentary pressure yielded with the sound of tearing cloth and she found herself naked yet again, Amy just wished for that familiar TARDIS noise.

The part that came next she knew all too well; it was the same every night. Amy simply closed her eyes at the sound of his fly descending, and opened her mouth accommodatingly before her new Master even had to tell her what to do. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed his cock into her mouth, over her tongue and to the back of her throat, in one continuous motion. Fiori wouldn't stop, Amy knew, until her lips were wrapped around the very base of his organ, and so all she could do was try her best to accomplish this goal. She gagged.

She could almost set her watch by Fiori's routine, at least in its early stages. One stroke, two strokes, three strokes, four; his hips shifted, bringing his cock from the tip of her tongue to the back of her throat in a slow circuit, topping out on the tenth stroke. He withdrew, and Amy desperately suppressed the cough that was brewing, along with the desire to spit the taste of him from her mouth. That lesson had been learned well.

Her place was to kneel, to be used; any deviation from this would be punished. She wasn't human anymore; she was a slave.

'Present your tongue,' Fiori's voice was a leaden weight, a slapping threat that she had no choice but to obey. Her pink tongue, so well used these last few days, poked out from between soft bow lips.

Her new Master placed a small, multicolored tab there, and Amy obediently drew it into her mouth. It had already started dissolving, lasting no longer than a few seconds before disappearing completely, with the floating, helium feeling of chemicals racing through her system. Whatever it was, its effects were rapid onset, and the creeping warmth that followed was entirely familiar to her; Amy's thighs shifted almost imperceptibly, as her pussy near dripped in mere seconds.

Fiori nodded gently, and without looking away Amy opened her mouth again, closing her eyes as she accepted his cock once more. This final, eleventh stroke to her throat was always the worst; as the drugs she had been fed danced across every pleasure center she had, her mouth began to water at the hot, masculine taste of flesh against her tongue. It wasn't something that would be easily missed; above, Fiori smiled knowingly. 

But of course, that wasn't the end of it; Fiori wasn't a particularly nice person, and the drugs he fed her would have been far kinder just to arouse her. When the flowing, twisting strands of memory had hit her the first time, it had come as a surprise. By now, Amy would have loved for them to have become routine, but they kept on taking her by surprise, each one too unique and intense to be anything other than a blow to her already battered mind. It was Fiori's fingers gripping her hair that did it, this time...

... and pain pulsed through her hindquarters yet again, to the rapturous cheering of the crowd. The metal bindings bit into her wrists as she fought against them, as the crop came down again, before she could even recover from the last blow. Her eyes stayed locked on it, staring over her shoulder; it was far worse not to see the strike coming. Rogue tendrils of electricity arced away from the tip, licking at the air, burning through it before dissipating. 

The world shook...

... And Amy was back again, trembling with the memory and struggling not to bite down hard. The soothing nanogenes that suffused the air in her room had healed the marks and taken away the pain, but the recollection of it was all too sharp and present, and Amy felt herself shaking to her core, shamefully wet despite herself.

'What did you see?' 

'The first time you punished me, sir,' Eyes down, Amy answered promptly, syllables trim and clipped. Always answer respectfully and quickly...

'Interesting,' Her Master mused, forcing her to look at him by the strength of his grip.

Her gaze was torn away by an inexorable pressure on the top of her head. Her eyes cast among the crowd, the swarm of collar-less men and women that had gathered around, threaded through with collared serving girls and the owned slaves these people had brought with them. All watched, their gazes an unending pressure on Amy's restrained form.

The woman wielding the crop brought it down again, bringing tears to Amy's eyes as she jerked, desperate to get away from the hot pain that came in its wake. There was nowhere to go, of course. What had escape brought her in the past?

Fiori, of course.

'You'll learn what I expect from you, slave,' He forced her to look him in the eye, a shiver running down her spine at the terribly, analytical spirit she saw in his gaze. 'And when you do, this won't hurt so much. And you'll thank me for every stroke.'

Again came the crop, three times in quick succession. Amy screamed this time, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as her voice rose even above the cheering of the crowd. Like one large organism it closed in on her, sensing a change in the flow of events. Fiori reached below her, cupped one pert and hanging breast, and she was excruciatingly aware of her nakedness. One pinch of her nipple, and her Master was gone, the crowd crushing down on her.

'She's all yours, valued customers.'

Amy came back to reality on her back, in precisely the moment that Fiori thrust three fingers into her, awfully deep and so, so good. She moaned before she had fully regained her senses, lost in the simple bodily pleasure of penetration, and hearing her wetness so clearly on his fingers. God, there had been whole days with Rory when...

But Rory wasn't here now. Fiori was, and the sounds she had made- was continuing to make- struck her with a shameful heaviness, right to the heart. Nothing changed, her nerves ached for more, body bending and acquiescing like it was made to. If she believed Sander, it really was. Not that Sander was here either; he at least had some care to his movements when he fucked her, patience enough to tease her and make her break, to make her complicit. 

Fiori was far more literal and hence, far more physical. When he made her submit, he did it through sheer brute force and technical skill. He had found all the critical spots inside her frighteningly quickly, and turned them against her just as fast. His fingers moved over them, flooding her with pleasure before bringing it to a halt with a juddering stab of pain, alternating between the two until Amy couldn't tell one from the other. 

'I can't... Master, may I please cum?' She approached her edge with shameful speed, wrenching herself to keep from falling over it. She barely managed to keep her voice level for long enough to ask permission, aware of how vital that sternly enforced rule was.

'You may,' Master sounded so magnanimous, bestowing upon her the shuddering, wracking spasms of orgasm that ripped through her, body on fire with forced ecstasy. It hurt her, muscles drawing tight as Fiori's fingers wrung more and more from her oversensitive clit, until she had to physically stop herself from pulling away...

His fingers curled around her clit, teased dewy lips sticky with her arousal, without ever slipping inside her. She came anyway, sobbing heavily, pulling against the restraints that kept her upright and spread for him. 

He whispered in her ear as she climaxed, over the moans that bubbled in her throat, over the red hot pleasure coiling tight in her belly. Told her exactly what was going to happen to her. Told her that after three days of disobeying, of fighting back, it was what she deserved.

He stroked her to a second orgasm before leaving her, restrained before the full length front window of the Olivan, in full view of the street... and the people who stopped to watch. From what she had been told, Amy knew that the AR projections that beckoned people into the club were displaying her, in all her naked glory, ten feet high on the building's face. 

She could feel the festivities below as vibrations through the soles of her feet, but here she was, a living advertisement for the suffering she would face in the club itself later...

'Thank you, Master!' She hadn't meant for the words to come out as enthusiastically as they had, but the last waves of her orgasm hadn't yet left her.

'What did you see, slave?' Fiori grunted as he mounted her, sliding his length deep into her post-orgasmic pussy. Amy's answers came without a break, unthinkingly. 

'M-myself in the- uh!- window... Sirrr...' She bounced on his cock with every uncaring thrust, her legs forced open by his hands and her swollen wetness parted around his thickness. Everything thrummed with the vibrato melody of sex. 

'Isn't it strange, the places your mind returns to when I give it a pleasure stimulus?' Fiori taunted, the words lost on Amy. She was already gone, drifting on tides of memory...

She looked herself in the eye, reflected back in the large mirror across from her, and forced her hands to remain flat on the armrests of her chair. This was Amy's first time out of the Olivan in days, and the urge to run was overwhelming, but ultimately futile. She could see Fiori behind her, and the figure he had brought her to see. 

'Tell me what you are thinking,' The other figure spoke as though English was not familiar to her, with the exaggerated pronunciation of someone forced to speak it for professional purposes. This place was small and quiet, enough that the details sprang out at her, especially the way the question had been addressed to Fiori, and not to her. 

Amy's cheeks burned.

'This one is difficult,' Fiori's words, on the other hand, were addressed to Amy's reflection, knowing full well the girl could see him behind her, as he ran his hand up into her hair as it cascaded down the back of the chair. 'And so she's brought this on herself. Her slavery should be more visible.'

Amy closed her eyes, shutting out the man behind her, so she could only feel his fingers tracking up the length of her hair...

'Make it short.'

Fiori had bent her over the bed while she was lost in memory, taking her body even as her mind was elsewhere. And yet, her entire being still convulsed with pleasure, muscles tight, pussy dripping around his cock. Christ, this was so wrong. How could her body let her down like this? 

It has to be the drugs. It has to be...

His hand was on the back of her neck, right below the bristles of her hairline, an anchor to keep her body in place as he thrust in so deeply, filling her aching cunt up again and again. Not that there was any chance of her moving anyway; Amy knew to stay still unless her Master ordered otherwise. He often did, forcing her to ride his cock, but right now he seemed content to merely jackhammer into her, the force of his thrusts pushing her further up the bed. Amy tried to keep her legs as open as possible, in a feeble effort to mitigate her Master's roughness. 

'Please Master, may I cum?' She forced the words out through gritted teeth as the bitter warmth of orgasm threatened to overwhelm her once more. She swore inwardly at her traitorous flesh, the malfunctioning mind that found this so arousing, but still, every inch of her was giving in...

'Cum.'

Oh, god...

Fiori had called it her "unveiling." It had been far worse than she had thought possible. 

In the darkness backstage, Amy ruefully ran her hands through the short bristles of what remained of her hair, the auburn fuzz that Fiori had allowed her, because he found it pleasant to look at. Oh, he had made no bones about that fact; her new hairstyle had come down to his wishes, not her own.

Everything came down to his wishes now...

And so, just as Master had said, she knelt in the darkness, just a twitch of the curtain ahead away from being revealed to... whatever he had prepared beyond it. There was the sound of hushed voices coming from the other side, but the usual din of conversation on the main floor was absent; Amy had no way of predicting what was coming. 

The new, leather collar she wore overlapped the Command Collar, the wide, stiff material raised her chin and craned her neck, putting an automatic arch in her back and displaying her breasts prominently. Whatever happened next, she would be on display.

Silence and stillness reigned, though every fiber of Amy's being screamed to run. Fiori's cruel hands, his retinue of inventive alien cohorts... the dark corners of the Olivan hung over her head like a threat. To run free in Sander's care was worth the risk. Fiori simply wouldn't accept any resistance. He didn't want a struggle, he wanted a slave.

Shadows moved in the gap between the curtain and the stage floor, shifting yet distinct; many more shapes than the silence had indicated. There were people out there, just... being stealthy. 

And then, the curtain rose...

Eyes of all shapes and sizes rushed up to meet her, as every gaze in the room swung toward the movement of the curtain. Amy bowed her head; many of the faces in that sea of life were familiar to her, customers from earlier in her time at the Olivan. Her new haircut seemed to be a message to them that she herself hadn't understood; Fiori had made some repeated suggestion that her new short bristles signified slavery, but who knew how that applied to the culture here? The other slaves understood, knew the ins and outs of this place enough to keep out of trouble, but Amy found herself tripping over it at every turn. She stayed still; it was best to just wait for instructions.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 30



... Which, she supposed, was rather the point...

There was a screen set into the rim of the stage, angled in such a way that only those on the stage could see it. Mostly a flickering, glowing blue, one word was stamped in stark white, a simple instruction from the management to the center of attention for the night:

Masturbate.

The sweeping pressure of the crowd, the tidal demand for obedience, washed over Amy, suppressing the shudder that threatened to take hold of her, as her eyes took in the order. What would happen if she so much as hesitated? Nothing good. Would the crowd get involved? It had happened before...

One hand drifted between her legs. 

She was already wet. It wasn't even a surprise anymore. Even if her body hadn't proved itself Amy's own perennial Judas, there was a mixture of gases pumped into the Olivan that heightened sensation, strung out arousal in everyone within. Made the floor a beating core of lust. 

Just as Master wanted.

Amy's index finger found her clit, lingered there, and she moaned. Right on cue, the holo-screens set above her bloomed to life, her own little exposure to the world. Even if she looked up she wouldn't be able to see what was being displayed, but she heard herself moaning in chorus up there, a different iteration of herself on each screen, as her own memories played for the crowd. 

What was a show without a soundtrack, after all? 

Sometimes Fiori played those images for her in private, so Amy was all too familiar with their content; whatever machinery reached into her mind and pulled her memories free seemed primarily interested in her time with Sander. Perhaps it found her modest exploits in Leadworth too boring, lacking in flavor compared to the collars and ass fuckings Sander had brought to the table. 

Amy wished she wasn't so pale; her blush was so completely obvious to the crowd. They could see exactly how ashamed she was.

Still, she didn't dare stop; she spread her knees wide, like the audience liked, and let them see her fingers plunge into her sopping wet pussy. The sound system picked up every damp noise, every squelch, and ensured it got to the audience in crystal clarity. When her breathing labored, hitched in her throat as pleasure climbed her spine, that too became common knowledge. Here she was, getting off against her will, and everyone knew it...

Close your eyes, Amy. Escape to somewhere else...

It must have looked like she was losing herself in her ministrations, and she even let her head tip back to complete that illusion, because the show was so important, here. Amy felt a pang of regret, at the absence of the familiar tickling of her hair on her back. It was gone now, of course. All that was left was the bristling mark of a slave; short hair for a creature without identity. Just a body.

Her lips parted, a high, feminine sigh escaping them as her thumb rounded her clit, fingers curling deep in her wetness. 

'Pond?'

The word broke through the moaning, groaning, lustful chaos of sound above like a brick through a window pane. The sounds of sex became somehow useless in the wake of it, vestigial to Amy's mind. Silence yawned in her mind, defiantly ignoring the show continuing above, and her hand froze between her legs. 

And the Time Lord stood framed in the doorway. 

It was a less dramatic moment than Amy was hoping for; only those at the back of the crowd, nearest the door, even seemed to notice he was there. But as the wash of conflicted emotions swirled through Amy's chest and froze her solid, more and more people began to wonder why. As eyes began to turn from her, the world shrank in further, to just her and the Doctor. 

When he took his first step into the Olivan, as her captivity began to crack and fracture, Amy's free hand raced to cover her chest, as the fingers that were still coated with the fluids of her arousal shifted to shield her pussy from view. Modesty raced back into her mind, as embarrassment fought with elation within her. 

He was here, he was here, he was here!

Another step, and the Time Lord's eyes shifted overhead, surveying the humiliations that his companion had endured in his absence. Amy was sure that his oncoming rage would be something to see, but her eyes had glued themselves to the figure entering behind him, faster than the Doctor had. There was an urgency there, to that familiar silhouette, as he skidded to a halt upon seeing her.

Rory...

She leapt to her feet, awkwardly keeping herself covered in the process, heart thumping in her chest. Her boys were striding up the center of the floor, the crowd parting for them, more out of interest as to what would happen next than anything else. Rory was wordless and pale, his shocked gaze drifting from her, so different from when they had last been together, and the evidence of her abuse up above.

Amy had never seen him look like this before...

'Get her backstage,' The Doctor growled, his sharp-edged features swinging from her to Rory and back, as her husband hoisted himself onto the stage and took her in his arms, grip tight, rough on her skin. The audience didn't seem to know what would happen next, countless wide eyes on the scene ahead, but nobody made a move to stop them. Rory ushered her offstage and into the deserted waiting room at the other end of the corridor.

Amy trembled; she knew the door at the other end of the room was locked, only to be opened from the other side, yet another bulwark in the Olivan's defenses. It didn't matter anymore; such a thing was no match for the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, and besides, Rory was here. Nothing could stop them now.

'The Doctor will be with us shortly, I'm sure,' Rory tried the other door, only confirmed what Amy already knew. He had let go of her to do it, shrugged off her hand as it clung to his, and the sudden absence was a shock to Amy's system, almost like a physical blow. She pursued him, desperate for his reassuring touch.

'I- I'm... God, I missed you...' Her voice shook as she went to hug him, but he remained wooden, unmoving when she did.

'I saw what was on those screens, Amy,' He said, something unidentifiable percolating in the undertones of his voice. 'Those were your memories. Just like when we went to see those machines in the Cygnus Rim.'

'Yes...' Amy said, cheeks burning.

'You enjoyed it,' Rory said quietly, after a moment of silence. Amy felt the ground open up beneath her.

'I don't know why we bother, Rory. I really don't,' The Doctor stormed backstage, eyes flaring. 'We come all this way to rescue her, and here she is, having the time of her life!'

'Wait, what?' Amy tried to turn, but Rory was gripping her shoulders tightly now, keeping her from moving to face the Doctor. 

'She was definitely having more fun than she'd ever had with me,' Rory said, and in his eyes wasn't bitterness, but anger. Not the cool, calculating anger of the last centurion, but something deeper, personal. The kind Amy had never seen on him before.

'Man with a time machine, me, and I still feel like I've wasted my time here,' The Doctor folded his arms and leaned against the wall, leveling a flat gaze at the- still naked, she noted- redhead, as the world rather more solidly seemed to turn against her. Ignoring the strange, floating nervousness that had filled her chest like helium, Amy pulled away from Rory's grip, putting enough distance between them to regard both her ostensible saviors at once.

'Now hold on!' She allowed her hand to stray from its position protecting her modesty for a moment, gesturing to her Collar. 'This isn't for show, you know! I had no choice!'

'Command Collars don't mean as much as you'd have us believe,' An arm outstretched, and the familiar sound of the sonic screwdriver ushered in the sounds of her pleasure, as the lone screen backstage lit up with the same footage still playing out on the main floor. Forced pleasure, of course, but... how much of that was actually true?

High definition was an excruciating resolution, and Amy got to watch her own features, flushed red and contorted in orgasm as she came on Sander's cock...

'No choice? Right...' A deep well of contempt filled Rory's voice. 'All that stuff with the Doctor... I should have known.'

'Rory, please...'

'And there was me behaving honorably because she was engaged!' The Doctor snapped. 'When all along I could've happily gotten a piece, if I'd wanted.'

'No... No...'

'Let's not rule it out,' Rory growled. 

'What are you suggesting, Mister Williams?' The last word had been given a hurtful emphasis. Amy found herself on the verge of tears.

'I can't remember the last time I had it my way with her, when all along she likes it a little demanding...' 

'What?! Listen to me!' There was no solid ground anymore, and Amy found the wall behind her very quickly, as she backed away from whatever monsters had replaced her friends.

'She keeps saying no,' The Doctor covered the distance with his usual energetic, bounding steps, and Amy gasped as his hand came up, slapping her own away to cover the bare curve of her breast. The sheer intimacy of the gesture made her heart skip a beat, 'Is that right? You don't want it, Pond? What's one more man to you, hmm? And you shouldn't have any trouble not wanting to cum, if you don't want to be fucked, yes?'

'The way you're saying it, it almost sounds like a test,' Rory said flatly. 'Even if she fails, at least we'll have some fun for all the time we spent searching.'

'You two can't be serious,' Amy said the words without believing in them herself. The Doctor's hand had drifted between her legs, strumming notes of pleasure across her clit and lips like a musician with his instrument. For all the time Amy had spent thinking about exactly that back in her bedroom in Leadworth, it had never been like this. He had never worn that expression of put-upon irritation on his face in her fantasies, like he had been forced into a chore he didn't particularly want to do, and was finding whatever mean-spirited joy there was to be found there.

And of course, there was Rory here...

'Look at what they did to her hair,' Her husband tousled her bristles more roughly than he needed to, as the Time Lord's hands roamed her body. 'That's slave hair, not a woman's hair.'

'What "they" did,' The Doctor grinned, shooting Amy a fiery look when she opened her mouth, as if promising punishment for speech. He tweaked her nipple, 'You saw what Fiori did to her in that alleyway after she got it cut. She squirted. Pretty clear she likes it that way.'

'Yes,' Said Rory, the word dripping with far more venom than such an innocuous syllable had any right to. He grabbed the back of Amy's Collar and, with little ceremony, dragged her into the middle of the room, forcing her to bend at the waist. 

'Straight to the point,' The Doctor nodded. 'Someone's learning. Sit still, Pond. You won't like what'll happen if you move.'

Amy felt the Doctor's hand on her thigh, pushing them apart. Some small, blistering voice in her screamed, felt the last safe vestige of the world slip away as the pads of his fingers tickled her clit, discovered her soaking cunt. She told herself, desperately, that it was just a remnant of being forced to touch herself out on the stage, that it had nothing to do with being manhandled by the two men who appeared most frequently in her fantasies.

'Should we even be surprised?' The Doctor said, holding up his glistening fingers for Rory to see. 'Mind if I take the back end, Rory dear? I've always wanted to get better acquainted with your wife's backside.'

'Be my guest,' Rory answered, his voice strange and hollow in its cruelty. 'I want her to look in my eyes when we do this...'

'Rory, I... Please!' Amy attempted to speak, but no words came. She was so far adrift from everything she had ever known and held to be true that even basic concepts were beyond the grasp of her tongue.

It didn't stop the slap Rory gave her in response, of course.

'If you open your mouth for anything other than sucking in my presence again, we will just leave you here,' He said viciously, lacking any resemblance to the man she had married. Amy knew she was a tall woman, but in the moment, Rory towered over her, his presence deeply alien. 

'Not to sound crass, Pond,' Even the Doctor's voice had taken on unfamiliar cadences, darkness tinted with arousal. 'But you may want to brace yourself. You've never had Time Lord cock before...'

There was the sound of clothing being settled and rearranged, the metallic noise of zippers, and then her betrayal began.

The Doctor gripped her collar from behind, pulling it tight against her throat, forcing Amy to crane her neck to avoid choking. In the same moment, she felt the unyielding pressure of his hardness between her legs, forcing himself into her shamefully wet cunt. She would have cried out, but the moment her mouth opened, it presented a perfect target to Rory, and she soon found it filled with harsh, angry masculinity.

There was no time to think, to act, to even exist as anything other than a sexual object. Her mind awash with betrayal and shame and awful, devastating pleasure, Amy simply became a blank canvas for those pounding emotions, as everything she had wished for was granted in the cruelest way possible. 

Rory's fingers gripped the sides of her head, digging into what remained of her hair, not just for control, but out of malice, as he fucked her mouth. The Doctor's fingers on her hips provided the counterpoint, as they rocked her between them, using her like a sex toy.

But the real action was happening inside, as the ageless, patient Time Lord intellect strummed down the connection between them, through Amy's nerves as though it were born to it. He was there, in her mind, peeling away everything but the pure sex impulses beating at the core of her. Amy sobbed; those were the things that were truly deep inside her, beyond her guilt and sadness and anger, the core of her being held onto that perverse arousal tighter than all of them. 

There was no care to it, none of the camaraderie or connection that had previously existed between them; the Doctor rifled through her mind with almost clinical detachment, bringing memories and sensations to the fore of her awareness one after the other, and Amy had the feeling that he was turning them over and over, examining the fabric of her being like it was just a series of strange artifacts. He knew everything now, there was no hiding from this; the depths of the impressions Sander had made on her mind were on display.

Up above, the Doctor's eyes flicked up to meet Rory's, his look laden with significance. How many times had they both heard Amy tell them that she had hated it all? How many times had that mouth, now wrapped around her husband's cock, formed denials of the things the pair had plainly seen on the TARDIS' view screens, as Sander's hostile little porn film had laid bare everything that had happened to her?

How many times had she lied, denied the truth deep in that tiny animal core of her?

The Girl Who Waited? No. Not here, not now. The shaking, groaning body between them now, that floated off with the first man to fuck her hard and treat her mean, wasn't deserving of the moniker. 

The Doctor didn't even need his connection to the slut's mind to know what was happening to her as he picked up his pace, pounded his hips into her harder with every thrust; the pitch of her moans was changing, growing higher and more desperate by the second. It was easy to detect, even with her voice muffled by dick and interrupted by the occasional gag, as Rory hit the back of her throat. 

'Listen to that...' Rory murmured, pushing forward more aggressively than before, leaving his wife no room even to gag. Tears dripped down her cheeks as her gag reflex worked around the head of his cock, squeezing down as he held her down, seconds ticking past. A shudder ran through her body as the Doctor thrust in hard at the same time, pleasure burning through her body. 

'You think we can't hear that, Amy?' The Doctor asked, punctuating his question with a slap to her ass that was so hard Amy was sure it would leave a bruise. 'You're going to cum, aren't you?'

She couldn't answer the question, of course, but then Amy didn't really think it was a question at all; it was more a statement of facts that required her to incriminate herself too. When the Doctor reached over her bare back and gripped her hair, forcing her head down on Rory's cock to the hilt, she couldn't think at all, her control breaking down under the agonizing pressure of pleasure and pain. Amy felt herself gagging, heard the ensuing hitch in Rory's breathing, but it was the Doctor's sudden lean into her, his shirt brushing against her back, that sent a ripple of arousal through her at the sheer power of the gesture.

'You shouldn't want to do that,' The Time Lord's voice was a rough British scrape in her ear. 'If you cum, Amy, we'll leave you here when we're done. Shouldn't be hard to restrain yourself, should it?'

Whatever lingering rational avenues of thought Amy had left flooded with fear at the thought, which somehow only sharpened the throbbing in her clit. The Doctor took his pleasure regardless, the persistent pumping of his cock sending ecstasy arcing higher and higher through her body, like hot sea foam washing up her hips. There was no restraint in her former friend now, just the ceaseless, uncontrolled pounding of his cock into her shamefully wet pussy. 

Shuddering, her thoughts interrupted incessantly by the cock in her mouth, Amy tried desperately to hold her approaching orgasm back. The Doctor had been right, of course; he was in her mind, after all. She had no place to hide from him, but... why did he have to be so right?

Her world was spinning out of control, she had been set adrift from everything she had ever known and been left stranded on some alien world to be fucked and used by everyone, up to and including her two best friends... and yet she would cum. Over and over, she would cum, at the slightest stimulation from any being with even the barest skill. Even with the threat of being left here hanging over her head, Amy knew that her body would betray her, that her cunt would clench and spasm around her best friend's cock, that she would moan, scream as loud as her husband's cock- forced into her mouth- would allow her, and she would cum. 

Her weak and needy cunt would sign away her freedom to this place, for just one more climax. 

And with that thought, bent and forced to fuck herself between the two men she had once trusted, her mind filled with the threat of being left here, endlessly enslaved and stripped and used, Amy Pond came.

It was one of those razor edged orgasms that Fiori and, to a lesser extent, Sander had been so adept at pushing upon her. Her pale thighs trembled, hips undulating against her will to get the most of the Doctor's cock as it forced its way into her sopping, twitching pussy. His fucking stung, her nerves overly sensitive and strung out on her shame and pleasure.

'I wish I could say I was disappointed,' The Doctor growled as Rory pulled back just enough to let Amy whine, her tone an unfamiliar mix of arousal and despair. His next word came out as a snarl, just above her pathetic whimpering, 'Whore.'

Amy came back to reality in the time it took to blink, her physical flesh bucking in surprise after so long immersed in drug-addled hallucination. The warmth of Fiori's cum was slowly dripping from her used cunt, but even the starkness of that was overshadowed by the awful memory of the Doctor's orgasm inside her, spurting his seed into her still orgasming hole. It had come along with the more familiar taste of Rory's cum on her tongue, something she had swallowed automatically, almost greedily, just as her training had taught her. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 30



He had cursed at her, as he slipped out from between her lips, only to feel her tongue slip out on instinct to follow his tip, cleaning it of the last remnants of his orgasm. The venom in his voice had brought her to tears as she collapsed to her knees, still tasting him so strongly. 

Amy shuddered on the bed, remembering the black pit of hopelessness that had opened up in her heart as they had dropped her to the floor, naked, collared and dripping both cum and her own juices, and moved to walk out. She hadn't even had the wherewithal to beg, the utter humiliation of the moment demanding silence from her, until they had left, the door back to the front of the club closing behind them. 

She could still feel the horrified panic that had given her wings then, that had forced her to her feet and sent her screaming after them, running on bare feet to catch up as her entire world wandered away. She hadn't made it, of course; her presence back in the main room had attracted the attention of customers, and her nudity and collar had marked her as available even with the earth shaking events she had just experienced in the back. Hands and the compulsions of her collar had pulled her down into the crowd, strangely shaped fingers slipping inside her as she watched Rory's back, disappearing into the street beyond.

It still made her sob to think about, even now. Fiori may have been watching, but Amy didn't care; that moment had done more to crush her hopes of ever escaping this life of sexual servitude than anything Sander had brought to bear against her. It hadn't even been real, that was the worst part; the Olivan, like any good club with an interstellar clientele, had a life-form scanner above the door, set to reveal the true forms of any shape-shifting patrons for security reasons. 

The familiar figures that had walked through it became much less familiar in that moment. It hadn't been real. It wasn't them. 

Amy should have been relieved, but the thought that Fiori had arranged for her to be tricked by a pair of shape-shifters had left her afraid. Sander had only wanted her scared and suffering, but Fiori? He wanted to break her, and worse, he knew exactly where to press, what weak points to pry into, to make her pop open like a clamshell. 

If anyone could make her a true slave, it was Fiori. Not just that she obeyed, but that she actually forgot what it was like to be free. So that her mind was wrapped around a solid core of obedience, and her collar could be swapped out for one without enhancements, nothing more than a symbol of ownership around the neck of a sex slave that had no concept of escape.

A sex slave that used to be known as Amy Pond...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 31



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi everyone, I'm back. And I'll be back again in about a week, so... Stick around.

There's news on my profile, so if you like what you see here, check me out! 

I also got some interesting comments on the last chapter, which I loved, so please, if you have anything to say, do speak up. I'm trying to keep y'all happy, after all. Enjoy!

-Kurokami 

*****************

Amy counted down from ten. 

Every girl working- and she used the loosest possible definition of the term "working," as that implied that somewhere, money was changing hands- at the Olivan knew that they were being observed whenever they were on the premises. For all the half-truths and fantasies Fiori spun about the workings of his club, he had always been curiously straight about that particular detail, and why wouldn't he be? A watched slave was a hounded slave, after all.

There was even an A.I here, just to remind Amy of Sander's little setup all the more. It watched through the lenses of the cameras, and the mechanisms that ran the automated systems of the club. It had watched the couple enter the Olivan as first time visitors, and buy an hour of Amy's time. And, no doubt, it had watched what they had done to her, from first chaining her to a bed in one of the private rooms, to the man shooting his cum on her face as the last few seconds had ticked down on their time with her. 

She assumed it was watching her now, since the locks on any restraint provided by the Olivan were timed- there was no need for customers to release their slaves- and would unlock in ten seconds in the absence of a paying visitor to the club. The couple that purchased her could simply use her and walk out the door when they were done, and all Amy had to do, was count. 

And so, with a stranger's seed dripping down her lips, she counted. When she reached ten, there was the familiar, demeaning little tone that signalled that the lock was no longer a problem. It was too chirpy, too cheerful to herald the release of a slave from bondage, like it did. Amy gritted her teeth and removed her wrists from the cuffs that had held them.

She rubbed the raw skin there, remembering just how roughly the man had fucked her- at the urging of his young female paramour, of course- to cause the dull ache in her wrists, to say nothing of the muscle-deep pain between her legs. It was a sad thing to have to admit, but at least Sander had prepared her for that, as well as the shameful trickle of her own wetness that it elicited. 

It wasn't a surprise anymore, which did help in making it humiliating. 

Now freed, there was no excuse to let her latest abuser's cum to linger on her face. Grunting with disgust, Amy wiped herself off with one of the courtesy towels that were, strictly speaking, placed in the back rooms for the guests; Amy found herself unable to care. She leaned back on the bed and took a deep breath, savouring the small moment of solitude, though she was all too aware that it wouldn't last.

A watched slave was a hounded slave...

If she stayed put, they would come for her. She could hear the throb of the Olivan's music just beyond the door, muted by the barrier but still present; this place had its own internal rhythm that she and every other slave there was forced to follow. Amy lingered on the bed for a few seconds more before she forced herself to her feet and then to the door, as ready as she would ever be to put herself back at the tender mercies of the Olivan. 

She still experienced a strange moment of alien panic upon taking her first step, naked as the day she was born, into a room occupied by a series of strangers, but it soon faded. There were so many other things to be afraid of here that simple modesty and decorum seemed piffling and distant. The parts of her that still reacted like a twenty-first century girl would were growing smaller every day; even if she did make it back to Earth, would it matter? Or would she be fundamentally different for this experience, a thirtieth century sex slave in an anachronistic past?

Around her, the club tensed and shuddered like a living being, spotlights tracing periodically over the crowd, stopping to highlight some amusement on one of the stages, or possibly a knot of limbs and bodies that Amy had no doubt contained a writhing, used slave at the centre. Skin tones and bodily structures that she had once thought impossible drifted through the lustful morass, and from on high, only just barely visible at the other side of the club, Fiori watched from on high, surveying his perverse little kingdom like some Bacchanalian god. 

Threading her way through the Olivan presented a not insubstantial challenge; the collar around her neck marked Amy as club property, and it was easily visible on her bare form, an invitation to all and sundry. Tonight the place was packed, and as Amy sidled past group after group she found herself waylaid by wandering hands, or at the very least, appendages used for grabbing. 

Oh yes. Amy supposed she might be considered quite lucky, from certain angles, that the majority of her... "clients," had been human. Dangerous humans, unpleasant ones, definitely, but humans nonetheless. Except the Olivan wasn't an exclusively human establishment, and humanity had turned out to be quite a popular fetish. 

Something slick and cupped, like a suction pad, slid up the inside of her thighs, stopping her in her tracks. It was attached to a long, thin limb that pushed her legs apart, affording it greater access to the well used treasure between them. The limb, in turn, led up to a roughly featureless creature, smooth and jet black, like a polished stone, resplendent with some strange mineral. A point of light moved about its "face," a tiny, barely visible amber hue in the dark void atop a roughly spherical head, unattached and free floating. 

Amy got the sense that she was being inspected, watched from that point. As she stared back, a portion of that light detached itself from the glow, growing in brightness as it fell down the creature's neck and across a chest like the side of a barrel before being sucked out onto the arm, where it went from forearm to wrist to... whatever it was that currently sat on Amy's clit. 

She actually felt the light on her sensitive nub, as though it had been exposed to particularly bright sunlight, warm and... almost welcoming, in a way. Without thinking, her hips moved, pressing down against the strange, alien contact, a moan at her lips. When it went off, it was like an electric charge shooting straight from her clit to every nerve in her body, that bright and breezy light filling her entire being for a split second before dissipating. 

Amy came. 

Her back arched, thighs shaking as the muscles in her belly stood out in tense lines on her pale skin. There had been no warning, no build up to this kind of intensity, and it left her unprepared. Her legs almost failed her as she went from zero to orgasm in the space of a single second, body burning with the weird ecstasy she had so often found since venturing out into the darker sexual corners of space. A switch had been flipped in her body, and now she was riding wave after wave of climax with no end in sight. 

Light just kept pumping down the alien's arm in waves, filling her with fluctuating brightness as the crowd began to prick up their ears and pay attention. Soon, there was cheering to back Amy's mounting screams, pleasure stamping down every thought and feeling, leaving her only with the mounting unpleasant oversensitivity of her pussy, as it clenched upon nothing. She ached, as the next climax mounted her hips, filling her up with blinding sensation, and she was adrift in the crowd. Eyes watched, and ears heard, as a million light years from home, Amy Pond came in the grip of an alien being.

Finally it let her go, released her so easily it was like it had never even touched her, and Amy fell back, her legs failing her in that moment. She couldn't tell how long she had been held there, whether it had been mere seconds or possibly minutes, but she also didn't care; lost time was just something you dealt with, working at the Olivan, where sensation could so easily strip away reality itself. This club was a pit of sex, a never-ending shameful orgasm that most people got to leave. The slaves, however, were just a tool of it; it was impossible to avoid these feelings while immersed in them.

Slaves like her...

The thought still struck her oddly, every time it drifted to the surface of her mind. But it was true, wasn't it? Sander hadn't come back for her in weeks, had watched her leave the auction block, and as for the Doctor and her husband, well... How long had it been there? The reality was inescapable; for the time being- and possibly forever, a treacherous inner voice took pains to point out- she was stuck here. She was a slave. 

When Amy had fallen back, one of the other customers had caught her. Mercifully human, his rough hands still took liberties with her pale flesh; the arm that had wrapped around her to stop her falling now bore a grasping, fondling hand that cupped one small, pert breast. Whole hours often passed like this, when nobody had paid for her time and Amy was left adrift on the main floor; she found herself bounced from person to person, traded like some particularly entertaining toy. In a manner of speaking, she supposed she was. But that was dangerous thinking, bound to imprint itself on her already delicate psyche...

'Don't know why I grabbed you, really,' The man who caught her whispered, his voice cutting through the chaotic wall of sound around them like a knife. 'You'll be on your knees soon enough.'

If he had the cash, it would just be another thing Amy would have to accept, to take like the passive vessel she was meant to be, in this place. The sheer passivity of it all fed a deep well of anger in her; gone were the days of being able to fight, to run, to do something in the face of what was happening. Without the Doctor, it turned out, she was nothing special.

The Girl Who Waited was not a title that held any weight, here.

Shame accrued in a leaden ball inside her, she felt her knees bend, but the light stopped her. Accompanied by a little tone audible only to Amy herself, a tiny projector set into the throat of her collar shone, an expanding holographic ring of red spreading outward and lingering in the air just long enough for Amy to make out the word "RESERVED" stamped through the centre of the band of light. 

It was a feature of the collar designed to be shocking, to drive away any otherwise interested clients, and it did its job admirably here; Amy quickly found herself in the middle of an empty space, where even the man who had been so handsy before had backed away. The Olivan didn't have many rules, but those it did have were ruthlessly enforced; when a slave was reserved, you let her go on her way. 

'Sorry,' Amy lilted, adding as much sarcasm as she dared, revelling in that small measure of power. 'Better luck next time.' 

Slipping past him, Amy headed to the stairs that led to the elevated V.I.P area. It would be Fiori, of course, who had reserved her; nobody else paid her quite the level of interest that he did. Despite letting her out onto the main floor like this, despite the rather... public debasements he had put her through thus far, in truth he treated her with more regard than the other girls; more of a personal project than a money maker. 

What was it about the wider universe, that it inculcated sadism so intensely?

The stairs were somehow holographic, a rainbow halation playing under her feet as she climbed them, fluctuating with the distribution of her weight. It was pleasing to the eye, but Amy knew it was there for more than aesthetics; in reality the lightshow was scanning whoever ascended the steps, seeking out those who didn't have permission to do so. Those that weren't welcome would find the ground under their feet becoming flat and sloping, a pleasant little slide conveying them down into the less pleasant arms of the burly Ogron security guards that Fiori employed. 

Some of the other girls treated those who ran afoul of the Olivan's myriad security measures as a kind of entertainment, and even Amy herself had taken to giggling whenever this particular trap sprung on some inebriated alien patron or another. It was hard to muster sympathy for anyone who would willingly walk into a place like this, after all. Too many of her fellow slaves had spent time with the medicom for that.

Looking back over the main floor from the V.I.P area afforded one a view of the singular, writhing organism below that was liable to cause motion sickness, and so Amy studiously avoided doing so as she finally reached her destination. This was not hard; so much strangeness had been packed into the floor in front of her that the mind reeled anyway. The aliens up here were mostly humanoid, but the things that made them stand out as non-human were so... dazzling, that their very beings radiated wealth. 

The spotlights below occasionally cut through the body mass of an enormous diamond-person, all coruscating gemstone limbs and small, hard edged angles. The light spilled through its chest as it moved, tumbling and refracting through the chaotic facets of a torso that seemed too thin to support the weight of its head and shoulders. Five bright points of light were set into its face in the middle of smoother, near transparent orbs that had to be its eyes, and that lightning gaze remained transfixed on the thing in its lap.

Almost doll-like compared to the sheer size of the creature holding her, the human slave girl seemed numb, faraway from what was happening to her, as a single diamond finger of incalculable worth stroked across her breasts, the tip lighting up with a vague orange glow, as though heated. It was best not to speculate as to what, precisely, was going on there.

Passing scenes of lust and debauchery that were difficult to parse, Amy made a beeline for Fiori, surrounded as he was by his retinue of personal girls. Not for the first time she wondered whether the women in Fiori's harem had an easier time of things, or whether they suffered the brunt of his cruel attentions as Amy herself had in the past. It was hard to tell just from looking at them; their features were always set in studious passivity, those perfect faces betraying no emotion, merely blank screens ripe for their Master to project whatever he wanted upon them. A treacherous voice in Amy's head pointed out the effectiveness of this, hinting that suppressing her own emotions might lessen the suffering inflicted upon her.

She could flatten herself out, become the simple little sex toy they wanted her to be and enjoy a much smoother ride through the inner workings of the Olivan, but then... wasn't that letting them win? Wasn't that losing herself? 

Fiori was not alone with his slaves either; a tall, rugged, thankfully human man sat nearby, his eyes passing over Amy with the usual expression of appraisal she got from Olivan customers. He was older than her, his age hovering somewhere around forty, if she had to guess; of course, her guesswork was linked to normal human standards, and not the genetically enhanced strangeness of the future of her kind. Who knew how old this man really was? 

There seemed to be a loose grouping of affiliated humans in Fiori's little corner, three other humans in suits, decked out in a kind of clear visor that, Amy knew, was feeding them real time data about... who knew? Nothing good, Amy could tell to begin with. The glass glinted in the light, their eyes blocked in a strangely dehumanizing manner. Still, she could tell even without looking that they were watching her, just as hungrily as the first man.

She had been here long enough to recognize him as their paymaster. 

'Ah, there she is,' Fiori said, as Amy stepped through the sound dampening border around his area that turned the music to a dull thrum, rather than the consuming thud that it was outside. 'You see, Lem? One of my finest prizes.'

Without waiting for a response, Fiori reached forward and took Amy by the wrist, dragging her over to him and planting her almost on his lap. Spreading her legs roughly with one hand, he spoke in a low voice, just for her, 'Lem is an important guest of mine, Amelia. You will give him your full attention for tonight, and make sure he leaves here with a positive impression. Otherwise...'

Trailing off, he produced a small metal bead attached to the end of a length of thin silver chain. Amy's heart sank, and she gritted her teeth as he slipped it down between her legs, rubbing at her clit for a moment in a way that sent a shameful wash of pleasure over her, before sliding the clamp around it. She moaned just a little as he tightened it, voice threaded with anguish and pain, as the metal bit into her sensitive flesh, jarring discomfort mixing into the sensation.

'Offer him your leash, Amelia,' There was a kind of impatient insistence in his voice, as if he had no time for having to give her instructions. Like she should know all this by now. Obediently, fearful of punishment, Amy took the silver chain from Fiori and held it gingerly as she walked, so as to avoid unpleasant tugging and pulling. She approached Lem like he was primed to explode, not knowing what he might do. In a world where appearances were so often only skin deep, and concealed unknowable secrets, playing it safe was the only viable option. 

'What makes this one so unique, Kamui?' Lem spoke for the first time, his pronunciation so ponderous and strange that English can't have been his first language. Considering the multitude of alien tongues she had heard just in her short period at the Olivan, that wasn't surprising, but it was another hint at just how far from home Amy truly was.

'Her rare vintage, Lem. Possibly unique on this planet,' Fiori said. 'At least, I'm not aware of any other time shifted slaves having come through the markets in some time.'

'Time shifted?' The visitor's head tilted to one side, as he took the clit-leash Amy proffered to him with as much false reverence as she could bear to show. 'Risky. I didn't know there were any vortex hunters around anymore, too dangerous if you get caught. Isn't it illegal in Selestene?'

'It is,' Fiori shrugged. 'But I didn't deal with the hunters to find this one. She fell into my lap quite by accident, at one of the Guild's auctions. According to the administrators, they didn't even realize what they had on their hands until she had been examined. She got picked up by one of their street sweeper teams, totally by accident.'

'Well, finders keepers, I suppose,' Lem said. He tugged idly at Amy's leash, causing her to squirm at the burning discomfort between her legs, without stepping any closer to relieve the hurt. She knew better than that, 'But that's one hell of a lucky find, there. So, what's her vintage?'

'Twenty-first century,' Fiori said. 'Early. Her name's Amelia Pond, not that it matters terribly here. Her previous Master preferred more spark and resistance than I do, so I've been... training her out of that. I know you like them on the cusp of breaking, my friend. Tell me, would any other club offer you such a prize?'

'I doubt they could even procure it, Fiori,' Lem grinned, and began reeling Amy in, inch by inch, by the chain between her legs. 'But isn't this only half the package you arranged for me and the gentlemen today?'

Fiori nodded, snapped his fingers. A shape detached itself from the shadows in one corner and stepped forward, milky skin shining as the spotlights passed over her naked form, occasionally catching the golden collar around her neck in a brilliant flash of rich light.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 31



Amy's heart sank.

The slave's deep brown eyes slid over Amy for only a second before settling on Lem, but the recognition that had been visible within them was all too easy to see. Amy recognized her too; her hair had been cut since they had last been together, shorn short much like Amy's herself had been, which hinted at some punishment that Amy hadn't been privy to, but she was familiar, all the same. 

'Cherami...' Amy breathed, keeping her voice low enough that Lem couldn't hear her. 

*******

It was a depressing thought to have, but she had first met Cherami on the main stage. 

Amy had seen the tall, statuesque girl around. It was hard not to; it seemed the eyes of the Olivan were almost always upon her, like she was some sort of mascot or figurehead. She had a regularly scheduled show on the main stage, and the floor filled up with customers whenever it was time for her to take the stage. From what Amy could glean, she wasn't even available for impromptu rentals off the club floor; the rules had been bent so that she was for private reservations only. 

They called her the Golden Princess. 

Fiori had arranged their floor show together personally, advertising it as something of a special event. New flesh wasn't terribly common at the Olivan; every purchase ran the risk of yielding no investment, given the rather... unforgiving nature of the club's training regime. It didn't do to put a disobedient slave out where the public could see them, after all. Those that went through the trials came out the other side came out as perfect little packaged sluts, ready for use until they wore out. 

Two slaves at once was a rare deal: the club's favourite princess paired with a new rarity? That would draw the crowds...

That day, there had been no costumes to speak of, no pretence that this was for any other reason than sex. Amy had been given her orders before she even stepped out on stage, and Cherami had clearly done this a hundred times before. The main stage was a circular platform set at the end of a small runway, so that any prospective audience could crowd around and see the show from any angle. Screens set above broadcast the finer details out to those who couldn't get close enough; there was literally no place to hide, once the curtain had risen and the show had begun. 

Cherami was already standing in the ring when Amy walked out, her head tossed back in a cascade of shining blonde hair as two fingers plunged into her sex, over and over. The Olivan had always taken the phrase "warm up" rather literally, and it was with grateful eyes that the Golden Princess had regarded Amy, as she approached. 

There was a sort of take-charge directness to her stride, something aided in no small part by her long, well muscled legs, as she met Amy at the rim of the stage. She took Amy's face in both hands and practically dove forward, the picture of pornographically perfect prurience, and kissed her deeply, their naked bodies pressed together. When Amy's thigh slipped between Cherami's legs, she could feel the telltale wetness of her swollen lips.

She kissed back, of course. This wasn't for her, after all, it was for the crowd. What happened when the kiss broke, and Cherami leaned in to Amy's ear, however, was.

'You're new here, right?' She murmured, in a voice so exotic and sympathetic that it was actually a shock to Amy, who had spent far too long without a kind word in her ear. 'Just let it happen, it'll go easier. Follow my lead...'

*******************

There was a sort of secretiveness to it all, Amy had found. Their eyes would meet for scant moments, barely enough of an opportunity for empathy to pass between them, but they took what they could get. 

Any form of connection was worth it. 

Fiori had given Lem and his crew the largest back room to conduct their "business," and the entire night to do so. The same kind of leash had been clipped to Cherami, who had accepted it with nary a sound, only a stoic nod of the head, and the pair had been led away from the sound and fury of the main floor and into the quiet confines of the back. 

It was a familiar enough place to Amy; the bed was large enough to be imposing, and couches aligned with the two side walls, sporting plenty of room for whatever activities the occupants wished to get up to. She had once seen fully ten people, slaves and customers alike, walk into this particular room together, so she had some idea of just how varied those activities could be. 

Two of Lem's goons had taken up positions at either side of the door, but the third- picked out specifically by Lem himself- had followed them inside. He took a seat on one of the couches, as Lem took the bed, dragging his two acquisitions along with him. 

'Alright, now...' Lem tilted his head, holding both leashes in one hand so that his two toys were forced to stand close together. 'How am I ever going to choose?'

Amy's skin crawled. She had been in situations like this all too often, waiting in literally the most vulnerable position of her life, while strange men and women decided her fate like she was some cheap commodity. What was worse was having to stand next to Cherami while it happened, to look over and see that resigned look in her eyes. Brilliant blue, and utterly defeated. 

'Yeah, okay,' Lem seemed to be talking to himself, but a moment later his eyes flitted past the girls to his bodyguard. 'Claude, you take the redhead. Blondie, on your knees.'

The bodyguard- Claude, apparently- stood to take Amy's leash from his boss, removing his jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair as he returned to it, 'Interesting choice, Sir, taking into account your ginger fetish...' His British accent came as a shock to Amy, a little shard of home to lodge in her heart and prick her over and over. 

'So I get to watch her,' Lem shrugged. 'I don't have to look down. A blowjob and porn, who could ask for more?'

Even as he was talking, his eyes never dipping for a moment, Lem had been undoing his pants and, eventually, dragging Cherami's head down into his lap. Obediently, the young woman went to work, her head bobbing to a backing track of slurping and sucking, even the occasional moan that Amy hoped, in that last little free place in her head, was theatricality.

'I think I can handle that,' Claude murmured to himself, unzipping his own fly. 'You'd best get on your knees, Miss.'

Amy blinked, the sheer strangeness of hearing an honorific like that in a place like this stalling her mind for a second or two. She risked a glance at Claude's eyes, examining his face as closely as she could in the short length of time she allowed herself. There was something familiar there, a sort of helplessness about the eyes, as though he was just letting himself get swept along in the current of what his boss wanted.

Not that it stopped Amy from doing what she was told, dropping to her knees in front of the couch, her head downcast in the usual respectful manner. It was the safest option, but also the best for Amy; she didn't have to look at her abuser like this.

She could hear Claude moving, undoubtedly taking his hardness out of his pants, but the moment she looked up to check any sense of routine immediately vanished. Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed nervously. 

'Ooh, I can see that hesitation from here!' Lem said, clearly amused. 'Claude here is a special case, an import from Pyrdion. Cost me a pretty penny, but it was worth it: they grow 'em big there, don't they?'

They did indeed. Amy stared openly, a new kind of fear dawning on her for the first time, even after all this time at the Olivan. The best word to describe what Claude was packing was imposing; a cock that, even soft, was of a girth and length that threatened a serious difficulty in... fitting. At full size...

'You need to give me some help,' Claude's voice was a low baritone. 'He's watching. Use your mouth.'

It was an order, no doubt about it, but there was a gentleness to it that Amy wasn't used to. This close, her eyes were drawn to the tattoo on his neck, a familiar pattern that Amy sometimes saw amongst the crowd on the main floor, though always being towed around behind some well dressed client or rich pervert. She could tell what it was even without being told, knew that it was a mark of ownership just as binding as the collar around her neck. 

Despite the difference in power, they were in the same boat...

Still, what he was asking of her was something of an ask. Hesitantly, Amy leaned forward and opened her mouth, lips stretching to accommodate even the head of the man's massive length. She struggled for a moment, jaw aching without getting much deeper. Though she was hardly a stranger to taking cock in her throat, this was a special case.

'Just use your lips and tongue,' Claude murmured impatiently. 'You don't need to suck, I get that.'

Amy nodded, unwilling to say anything and potentially ruin what was going on here. Mercy, she had come to discover, was a finite resource, one that a misplaced word or an incautious expression could scatter to the wind, with no indication of when she would next find some. Claude, by contrast, seemed to be a rich seam of the stuff, far more in one place than Amy had seen in a good long while, which was in itself rather sad. All he had done so far was not force himself on her. 

Still, there were eyes at her back, she knew; Lem's presence was unmistakable, along with the wet sounds of Cherami's mouth being dragged up and down his shaft. Amy was still a performer here, and this was her performance; it didn't take her longer than a second to get back to work. Claude gently held his flaccid cock up for her, letting it fall across her face as Amy started to lick and suckle the pulsing, warm shaft. At his size it was impossible to imagine he was anyone else, but a charitable part of her mind was determined to reciprocate and foster whatever small measure of kindness there was between them. 

He hadn't been hard at the outset, which hinted that he was less than immediately interested himself, but that didn't remain the case for long. Amy's soft lips and nimble tongue had been trained, honed by Sander and Fiori and every customer she had been forced into a room with, and she was too fearful of the paying audience to relax them now. Claude's breath hitched in his throat as her long fingers caressed his balls, tongue working up from the root of his cock to the tip, playing there for a moment so she could beam him her best sultry look. Her kissogram years had helped with that.

She felt him twitch against her tongue, and ran a series of light, teasing kisses around his crown in response, before dipping back down. He throbbed in her grip, the taste of his precum curious and pleasant in ways she couldn't quite name. Despite the situation, despite being thrown together with this stranger at a moment's notice in the backroom of a nightclub immersed in the sex slave trade, Amy felt herself getting wet. Her clit ached, intense sparks of conflicted discomfort shooting through her hips as the clamp around it tugged in Claude's careless, distracted grip, and yet she dripped shamelessly.

'That's enough,' Claude shook his head, shivering in obvious pleasure. To stop her, he ran his free hand under her chin, lifting her face so their eyes met, the simple humanity of the gesture again stalling Amy's thoughts. She felt herself smiling, but only for a moment before he continued, 'We don't want to end things too early, trust me. Climb into my lap...'

Long legs unfolded, her pale thighs glistening with her own juices and the glinting light of the clamp on her clit, as Amy rose to her feet and awkwardly moved to straddle Claude. She actually blushed, the rough scrape of the man's trousers against the inside of her thighs reminding her of the strange immediacy of all of this. She hovered there, just above his lap, that cock much more impressive when it was erect and at the cusp of penetrating her. Could she even take it?

'Lean in,' Another direction, this time obeyed automatically. Amy steadied herself with both hands on his shoulders, tilting herself forward so that her nipples rubbed against his shirt, and she was brought face to face with the man himself. The corners of his mouth curved up in an apologetic smile, 'He likes to watch. This way, he'll see me inside you better. Won't interfere as much.'

Amy could understand that; in this position she had to arch her back and push her ass high just to keep herself hovering over his cock while leaning forward, and anyone behind her would be afforded what she imagined to be a quite exquisite view of her pussy, rubbing nervously at the head of Claude's erection. 

'Go slow,' He whispered. 'Don't try to take more than you can handle. He's not out to watch a race.'

Pausing to brace herself one last time, Amy lowered her hips, all too quickly feeling the startlingly hot tip of the man's cock against her entrance. He gasped as she moved down further, her lips spreading around his head, slipping him inside of her. The suggestion to move slowly had been a smart one, no doubt borne of prior experience; already Amy could feel the stretch, slight for now but with challenging implications for the rest of all this. 

She cried out, bit her lip as more and more of Claude's monster cock filled her, pushing her open wider in a way that progressed from merely uncomfortable to achingly painful faster than Amy would have preferred. She looked to the man inside of her for... what, exactly? Some kind of comfort? Perhaps even understanding?

There was some sense of the former, certainly. Claude's eyes had an apologetic set to them, though to apologize for a simple fact of biology struck Amy as a little odd. This wasn't his fault, it was Lem's, the man behind them watching while forcing Cherami's head up and down in his lap.

Without saying anything, Claude moved one hand from the arm of the couch, where it had sat almost rigidly until now. Slipping into the join between them, his thumb pressed lightly against her clit and then paused, as he gauged her reaction. The little sigh she gave encouraged him, enough for him to up the pressure, rubbing gently at that sensitive little nub. 

The sensation warmed her, a blush cresting her cheeks and a moan on her lips. Pleasure eased her progress down his cock, though Amy still bit her lip and choked back a cry as she finally found herself at the base, fuller than ever before. She simply sat there for a moment, adjusting to the feeling, letting the strange scene around her wash over her; in all the time she had been at the Olivan, a male slave had never been thrown into her path before. A part of her had wondered if there even was such a thing, in the vicious society Sander had sold her to. 

But here he was, evidently affected by what was happening between them just as Amy herself was. Intensity flooded his eyes, a kind of magnified attraction that made him fidget, clearly anxious to...

'Touch me,' Amy said softly, taking his free hand and placing it on her back, just above the curving swell of her ass. Rory had so often settled his palm against that same patch of flesh when they had made love, the simple pressure there, in this context, was a caustic burst of nostalgia. Claude was nothing like Rory, and this was just fucking, but she could still reclaim this night in subtle ways.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, willing herself into some other place and time, as she slowly allowed herself to rise off of the cock below her. It was harder than one would imagine; the sheer physical stresses of taking something that large made it difficult to disengage from the present... not to mention that every situation remotely like this in her memory involved Sander, not Rory. 

But she could find it... she had to. Amy's brow furrowed, she bit her lip and concentrated. Come on, what was there? Mmm, the Sunday after that trip to London, when she had tempted Rory into his first big city sex shop, and brought home that lovely thick toy. He had been so reluctant to use it- what was wrong with his own cock, was the reasoning- but it hadn't taken Amy much more effort than to bend over for him to change his mind. The sight of her round, creamy backside had moved his mind more times than she could count.

Wiggle it, and he was hers.

He had fucked her with it, that quiet Sunday when the rain had dripped in streams down the gutters and all the world that had any sense had stayed indoors. It had been thicker than her usual too, and she had hung her head to watch Rory, captivated by her whimpering moans, working away between her legs. 

Yeah, come on. Something. Anything...

'Faster, now,' Lem's voice shattered the illusion and dragged Amy back to the present, back to straddling this stranger's alien cock and feeling it split her wider than anything she had ever experienced before. Of course; why would there be any escape from this, even into fantasy? The Olivan had proven more than adept at cracking her will thus far, over and over...

Despite her better judgment, Amy looked over her shoulder, allowing herself to watch Cherami for a moment as her mouth rose and fell on Lem's shaft with every apparent sign of pleasure. Not for the first time she was forced to ask herself: how much of that was genuine, and how much was just acting?

After a certain point, who could tell the difference? 

A flash of pleasure went through her, lines of fire shooting up her hips as Claude pressed in against her clit a little harder than usual. Amy's eyes were drawn to the strong, angular lines of his face, her hips wriggling into the unexpected stimulation automatically, just in time to see the smile spread across his features.

It was strange, seeing someone so ebullient in the face of abject ownership. It caused Amy to wonder what the difference was, what she was doing wrong, that her situation was beating her down so. Lem didn't seem to be a superior Master when compared to Fiori at first glance, but then, bodyguard work with occasional sexual services probably wasn't as stressful a job as full on sexual slavery. 

Some tiny, aching part of her mind hoped, somewhat desperately, that it was her in particular that he reserved that smile for. Perhaps there was a connection he saw between them? Of all the slaves he had been forced to fuck for his Master's amusement, how many of them were like Amy, how many hadn't been completely shattered and rebuilt by their ownership? 

In a sea of compliant faces and bodies acclimated to use, the struggling newbie would be quite refreshing, she hoped. 

She could do this mostly with her hips, she found; by bouncing her ass up and down his cock, Amy could keep herself relatively stable, even comfortable. Being able to control the pace of the sex was a godsend; acclimatizing to the new pressure her body was under was simply required. The very thought of Claude in control, slipping into her fresh and fast with no preparation, sent a shiver down Amy's spine. It would be too much, all at once.

This way, she could become at home with it all. Her wetness dripped down his shaft now, easing her traversal up and down it, the slick gliding a marked contrast to the halting, gasping progress of that first insertion. Her pussy fit around his rod like a glove, the wet sound of Amy's slow humping speeding up competing with the slurping blowjob still happening behind them. A familiar coiling heat settled in her belly, growing tighter and more insistent by the second. 

Claude simply rubbed her harder, not only picking up on her body's cues, but actually caring enough to play off of them. Who was this guy? 

Amy rocked her hips harder, finding that in all the friction of the act Claude's length hit her in just the right spot, sending clenching waves of pleasure and tension flowing through her pussy. Her lips parted, mouth fell open so she could pant freely, and in a movement both sudden and obviously premeditated, Claude swept forward to take one of her nipples in his mouth.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 31



Amy squealed in surprise, the sound the most genuine one she had made since coming to this place. 

'On her back now, Claude,' The sound of Lem's voice was a sudden drop from the heights of pleasure Amy had just ascended to, and that it was backed by a gag from Cherami just compounded the sense of hopelessness behind the ecstasy. Still, her body would not be denied, her nerves were insensitive to the predicament of her mind, and thus arousal washed against despair, red and black fighting for dominance in a body that bounced, and groaned, and shuddered to its own internal rhythms. 

In truth, it didn't matter what she or Claude felt.

And still, he obeyed. There was shocking strength to him, sufficient to pick her up bodily without ever breaking their contact, to be carried to the bed with his cock still inside of her. Even in transit she writhed, rocked her hips into him as he walked, something he clearly approved of. He laid her down slowly, gently, before he began his own motion. The show had to continue, but the bodyguard's kindness was evidence even then, as he started off slowly, hips sliding through the air in a pendulum motion, in and out. 

Amy's legs splayed, her pussy open and swollen and increasingly capable of taking his girth. Her juices dripped down freely now, staining the bed and Claude's trousers, as he fucked her. She had closed her eyes as he carried her, and they remained so for just a moment further, enough to revel in the sensations of this in relative solitude. 

Just him and her...

She had to open them again eventually, of course. She wasn't here for herself, and when the weight on the bed shifted, she was reminded of that all too well. Before long, Amy relented and opened her eyes, allowing herself to see what she already knew was there; Lem had changed position, moving parallel to Amy and Claude as they fucked horizontally across the bed. One leg was crooked under the other, and Cherami had been dragged along with him, her mouth still firmly around his cock. There was something dreadfully... simple, about what she was doing; her head merely bobbed in his lap, a little mess of short blonde hair moving up and down almost unthinkingly. 

No thought, no regret, just obedience. Her body was all she was good for, here.

Lem was inescapable now, so close by and looming over them. Amy set her eyes above, concentrated on the feel of Claude's hands, one on her waist, the other reaching up to cup her breast. He looked down at her too, seemingly willing himself into a little private world, apart from their surroundings. The mounting passion made it easy to follow him there, to follow him with her hips when he withdrew and to let herself bounce with his thrusts, adding a realness to the... performance. If it could still be called a performance.

Moaning, Amy felt that familiar tightness in her hips, the heat and arousal that came with ensuing climax. Her first instinct was to fight it, delay it since she knew she couldn't avoid it completely, give herself just a few more moments of dwindling pride, but... it wasn't Lem she would cum for, really. It was Claude, the only soft touch seemingly in the entire city. 

She could let go, for him. But there was something she needed to do first...

'May I cum, Sir?' Her voice trembled, but the words were rote by now. They spilled from her tongue as easy as her own name, much to her chagrin. Lem blinked, obviously disinterested in the question.

'Yeah, sure, whatever,' He said quickly, voice shaking as he pushed Cherami down, gritting his teeth. 'Yeah, that's it...'

Amy's attention moved back to Claude, the unpleasantness of asking permission behind her. She could still hear Cherami coughing, her mouth filled with the stranger's cum, but such concerns were quickly swept away in a tidal wave of heat, her needy body tightening on the edge of climax.

Claude leaned in, his lips at Amy's ear, 'Cum for me. Not for him. Cum for me.'

His tongue danced momentarily at Amy's earlobe, and all that coiled tight pleasure exploded. 

Orgasm raced up her hips, making them buck against his cock, electricity marching up her spine inch by inch. She groaned, tossed her head back, let ecstasy wash over her body from head to toe, muscles tight and shaking, back arching off the bed and into Claude's chest. For the first time in her entire stint at the Olivan, Amy let go completely. Lem disappeared, the club disappeared, the entire damned planet melted away and left Amy floating in climax, surrendered to sensation. 

Claude was the only remaining constant, her panting, bucking anchor to the world. He continued to fuck her as she clenched and moaned, each thrust bringing new waves of pleasure to the fore, and Amy rode each one to completion, breasts bouncing. Her pale body clenched tight as a bowstring in the throes of the final spasm, and just as she wound down...

'I'm going to cum,' Claude murmured, teeth clenched and sweat glistening on his skin. 'Brace yourself. This is a little different than what you're used to...'

Muscles up and down his powerful body clenched, and Amy felt him pulse inside her, shaft twitching against her tight, wet inner walls. A new warmth flooded her, each jerk of his thick cock filling her further, heating her body red hot. A strange tingle whispered across her hips just momentarily, and then...

Amy came.

Just as the spiralling heat of her first orgasm had begun to die down, Claude's orgasm seemed to spike her higher, every shot of his seed burning its way into her body like a brand. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, unique in its suddenness and intensity, in the way it just stretched on and on and never abated. A singular contraction of blinding, pure white sensation, shutting down thought and sight and sound... everything but the sheer wall of climax that Amy had slammed into. 

Distantly, Amy felt her body arch and bend, the ache of her muscles not even an afterthought in the depths of pleasure. Her skin gleamed luminous white in the light above, the lines and tendons in her abdomen standing taut and defined as she shuddered beneath Claude, open and perfect to his eyes. 

Everything in her trembled. Amy came apart, came to pieces as primal ecstasy broke her down to her basest elements, reduced her to nothing but contracting muscle and aching flesh. Her awareness shrank down to the flowing, dripping walls of her pussy, the hard and juddering points of her nipples, and the throbbing of her clit. She was a body, the slave they wanted her to be, a being of vulnerable flesh that could be tortured and teased and controlled at their leisure. 

The collar around her neck had never been heavier. It weighed her down, chained her to her weak flesh, spread open to the tricks and unearthly skill those in her new reality possessed, where even the most fleeting of emotional connections came with unbearable use. 

Claude was something else, but ultimately, he was still just Lem's tool, and Fiori's tool by proxy. Amy knew this, as she came down and her sensibilities returned to the flushed, pleasured remains of her mind. She felt... hot, as though steam should be rising from her lax, used up body. Her limbs still shook, even as they went limp, toes twitching as lingering echoes of that all consuming climax rippled through her. It didn't seem to want to release her entirely, the shockwaves radiating out from her pussy, traversing hips and spine and breasts and thighs, reaching into places Amy hadn't even known could react in orgasm. 

'It's my body chemistry,' Claude whispered, once he knew she could hear him again. 'It reacts like this with humans, specifically my, uh... juice. Ride it out...'

'Like I have a choice,' Amy moaned, wishing fervently that she had gotten some form of prior warning. As it stood the chemically induced climax had rammed into her senses like a freight train.

'Consider yourself lucky, slut,' Lem had discarded Cherami, literally dropped her like waste, and she had slid oh so terribly obediently to the floor, where she knelt and waited, eyes lowered.

Possibly to avoid meeting Amy's gaze. 

'Do you know just how valuable the stuff Claude is currently spilling in you is?' He continued. 'You can buy it by the vial in some markets here, distilled and mixed, obviously. You're getting an uncut dose for free, and you're nothing but a slave. You're lucky I like to watch you squirm so, Red.'

Amy shivered as Claude withdrew, a full body tremor that left her hips following his cock, body seemingly hungry for more. Her body the traitor, that acted just as her owners would like... was she truly in control, when her very flesh hungered and moved her so?

'Good job, Claude,' Lem nodded solemnly, placing a careless hand on Cherami's head. 'Go sit back down. We gotta recharge for a bit, I think.'

Obediently, the tall man slipped away, leaving Amy feeling oddly empty and bereft. For whatever it was worth, he had been her one anchor to any sort of normalcy here, a little friendly physical comfort in a sea of uncaring faces. Losing that so soon after it appeared was a shock to her compassion-starved system. Her eyes followed him as he went back to his seat, watched him hungrily as he did up his fly again and sat down, offering her the scantest of looks back, that single moment of eye contact front loaded with empathy of the kind that was so rare in the depths of the Olivan. 

'Don't just sit there all wistful, girl,' Lem nudged Amy, then did the same to Cherami. 'On your knees, where you belong.'

Whimpering, still shaking, Amy slid off of the bed and onto the floor, taking up the expected position beside her fellow slave. She watched Lem stand and walk, mostly naked, over to a large chest in one corner.

Ah yes, those chests...

If anything in this place could possibly come close to being the definitive bane of Amy's existence, it was those chests. Every room for rent in the Olivan featured them, innocuous wood boxes that simply filled the corner... until the renter took the time to open them. And then, they did so much more.

The interiors were piled high with... implements. Toys and restraints and tools of both pain and pleasure, free for the use of any purchaser of time in any suite in the place. The walls of the chest were lined with a time field, the science behind it escaping Amy, that reset whatever was taken out of it back to its initial state once it was replaced. 

Hence, cleaning was not an issue. No matter what you did with the objects within...

'Now then, let me see...' Lem's back was turned, but it wasn't hard to tell that his eyes had lit up as he opened the lid and looked inside. A Pulp Fiction-esque light spilled out from inside, all the better to see the prurient tools within. Amy actually felt herself flinch when he bent down to retrieve something from it; that moment of choice always signalled suffering to come.

'Alright, girls,' He span round, one hand holding a thick shaft, something glittering in the other. 'Take two. You ready?'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 32



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi guys, that took a long time, huh? It won't in future, so check back... oh, sometime next week, I guess? You'll like what you see, I promise. In the meantime, please enjoy the new chapter, and do let me know what you think. Please vote or provide feedback, and check out my profile for more of my writing. Have fun!

-Kurokami

*****

Amy moaned, then hissed out a breath through gritted teeth. At the same time, Cherami did the same. 

Both girls kept their eyes firmly locked on the carpet, on Amy's part due to an unwillingness to see the people around them. Lem would be watching, as closely as he liked, heedless of propriety or personal space. It was better to ignore him; he was just another faceless member of the permanently swirling audience to her humiliation that way. Whatever he did to her, he was no threat.

Perhaps Claude was watching too, and that thought was too much to bear, if it were true. Their brief moment together had been a tiny spark in the darkness, momentary and ultimately fleeting, but precious. It proved that not everything in this place was bent on grinding her down, blind to everything that made Amy Pond worthy, until only her body was left. 

If he was watching, what would he see? Some pair of squirming, naked slave girls on all fours in the middle of the floor, fucking themselves back and forth on the same double-ended rubber cock, their clits clamped together via a chain that ran between them. Perhaps the cruelty of the scenario Lem had concocted would be the first thing to come to mind- whenever the girls moved apart to keep bouncing on the sex toy between them the chain went taut, biting into Amy's clit painfully just as it did to Cherami's- but eventually the way she was being used, and the way her body betrayed her, would become apparent. 

And then Claude would see the sex slave, not her. Not Amy.

Her thighs ached and shook from the strain of fucking herself, but she dared not stop; whether she ignored Lem or not he was still there, and Amy knew from intimate experience that he was carrying a flogger with a nasty electrical sting in its tail. He deployed it with alacrity, not hesitating to punish even the slightest reduction in speed. Occasionally she heard Cherami cry out in time with the crackling discharge of the flogger.

The fact that she was apparently moving fast enough not to earn the same treatment only compounded Amy's shame. 

Everything throbbed in a curious mix of pleasure and pain, inner muscles twitching and pulsing around the sex toy that filled her, to the ever present background burn of the clamp. Moans blended with the slap of skin on skin, and the jangle of that horrible chain between their legs. Worse still, all of it was a choice; she could have suppressed it all, buried it deep so that only the secret knowledge of how good it all felt could burn at her, but...

This was what the customer wanted, and it was better to provide. 

It was a thought that had struck Amy numerous times as she "worked" at the Olivan, usually in those few seconds after she had just slipped an unfamiliar cock into her mouth, or bent over a bed without a word to accept a punishment. When was it that she had truly given up? What was the day, the hour, the moment that her resistance had crumbled and obedience had become the better option? It hadn't been with Sander, no, because even then her compliant body had been wrapped around a hard kernel of hope that had comprised the centre of her being. On Trismestigius, the Doctor was coming and that was a fact. Rory was coming and she had known that in the very makeup of her soul. Her personal universe turned on such faith. 

It must have been the Olivan, then, that had twisted her so. This place had certainly been the... harshest lesson she had ever encountered, but to think that it had inverted everything she had valued in herself in such a short span of time...

What would she look like, in a month? In a year? 

What if the Doctor failed...?

Pain, then pleasure. The cruel snap of the clamp, and the momentary relief of the sex toy. It was better to focus on that, the simple and easy to digest sensations of the physical, when the alternative was confusion and helplessness. It was exactly what they wanted, Amy knew, but what other choice did she have, when saving her own sanity was the same thing as being defeated?

Of course, this left her to confront the fact that her body betrayed her so easily. Already she could feel orgasm mounting, gaining definition and intensity even from the sharp bite of the clamp. Having Cherami there so close, whimpering and fucking just behind her, the memories of all they had done lurking at the back of Amy's mind the entire time, did nothing to help. Worse still, her pussy was still filled with the residue of Claude's orgasm, whatever sensitizing agents it contained still working on her stressed and receptive nerves. She couldn't hold back her climax if she tried.

And it was useless to try...

'Please may I cum, Sir?' Her voice was a shuddering, breathless whimper. Shame spiralled up through her, guilt at her weakness biting at her soul. He would say yes- of course he would, he liked watching her cum against her will- but she had to wait, had to let that awful man decide for her. And waiting grew harder by the second.

'You sure, Red?' She could feel Lem's perpetual grin beating at her back. 'I did tell you, first one to get off has problems in their future...'

'I'm sure, Sir,' Amy's head hung even lower. She could have waited, tried her hardest to keep her climax restrained, but with no way of knowing how close Cherami was, that wasn't a gamble she was willing to take. It was a losing game she was playing anyway; her time with Claude was working against her. Whatever happened next, Lem had clearly opted to stack the deck in favour of Cherami. It made sense; after all, it was her turn with him, now.

'Very well. It be on your head though, Red,' Lem shrugged. 'Cum, slut.'

To her shame, Amy exploded almost instantly, shuddering and jerking through an orgasm far more powerful than any from her time on Earth. That was a thought that she had grappled with for some time, the knowledge that her happy, loving time on her home planet hadn't even come close to the kind of sensations that the Olivan, the future, alien worlds so routinely wrenched from her body. It couldn't all be down to the strange, refined methods for extracting pleasure that these places had developed, some of that aching, awful ecstasy had to be coming from her, and everyone she met made it seem so effortless...

When Amy thought about it, she was the only constant, the only stable factor in all of her travails through the future...

She screamed, panted as her hips jerked automatically, only causing more pain both to herself and to Cherami, as the clit clamp snapped and jangled, chain glinting in the light. Dimly, at the edge of her orgasm-shrouded awareness, she heard Cherami grunt in pain, but with her body filled with sensation Amy couldn't bring herself to care. Such was the fickleness of the bonds of slavery. 

Coming down was harder than she had anticipated; as the pleasure coursing through her faded, Amy was left only with the stinging ache between her legs as the steel teeth continued to maul her delicate flesh. As "satisfied" as Amy herself was, Cherami still moved, remembering her orders and, Amy didn't doubt, being guided by the perverse wants of her own body in the process. 

Giving a desultory effort in return, Amy felt the blonde girl tighten and, after gaining permission, shivering through her own orgasm. She moaned freely, adrift in feelings far safer than what she might otherwise have. It's hard to drown in shallow water, so why venture out into anything more complex? 

Amy endured. When it was over, Lem allowed the girls to relax, reaching down between their legs in the most humiliating of ways to unclip the chain that connected them. Exhausted, muscles protesting and burning, Amy collapsed to one side, one hand quickly moving between her legs to rub and assuage the pain, as blood rushed back into areas she would rather have had left alone. 

'Ah, that was fun to watch,' Bedsprings squeaked as Lem sat down, resting the crop on his knees. The tip still crackled with the promise of certain pain at the slightest objection, 'Blondie, you got off first, so you get to take point on this next thing. Fuck the redhead.'

A strange sort of resigned chill went down Amy's spine, the helpless feeling only intensified with the immediacy of Cherami's response. The girl got up without a second's hesitation, her body surely protesting under the stresses it had been put through, but if it was then it didn't stop her from flipping Amy over onto her back and slipping quickly between her legs. Almost defensively, Amy rose up onto her elbows to give herself some extra height, and stopped. 

There was Cherami, naked, collared, looming over her like some statuesque figure of Amazonian beauty. Their eyes locked and, for the first time today, the wary submission fell from her gaze, and the real Cherami peered out from within, the one Amy had run into just... Oh, just a few days ago. The memory was troublesome, presenting with it the idea that a matter of days could beat Amy down, and a single night could build her back up, and recontextualize everything that had come before. 

How many times could one life be turned around?

As Cherami leaned in and gently pressed her lips to hers, Amy allowed her mind to drift back. Her body simply went with the flow, as she recalled what might charitably be called a happier time...

********************

It was hard to properly describe those first few days at the Olivan, after Amy had been turned loose in the slave's quarters. Alien cultures were not new to her, but in her previous travels she had always had an anchor, TARDIS doors she could retreat behind and... be home again. Even with Sander she had something close to recognizable to centre her world around.

Entering the slave's quarters for the first time was like getting dumped headfirst into ice water.

Practically speaking, there had to be a place like it, an area for the slaves to maintain themselves; to eat, and exercise, and socialise to avoid the "creepy" label that went along with extended isolation so often. As a concession to the realities of sentient life it was a simple necessity, but the design of the slave's quarters spoke to Fiori's begrudging reticence to actually build it. 

It was built from the same dark metal as the rest of the club, the light pouring out of slots on the floor and ceiling not so much illuminating the area as putting a depressing tinge to it. Access was granted from a single small door at the back of the club floor, locked to all but employees of the Olivan and barely wide enough for people to walk through in single file. 

Immediately, they would be greeted by the guards. 

Security was handled mostly by living beings, at the Olivan; automated security systems had their uses, but in the chaos of the dance floor they had trouble distinguishing between the forbidden and the merely... strenuously performed. Besides, people of a certain type tended to want to work guarding the sex industry of Selestene. The perks were simply too good to pass up. 

Multiple species dotted the main floor, standing in place clad in the standard black and red uniform of the club staff, modified depending on the size and shape of its wearer. Their eyes were, to a man- and most, though not all, were men- dispassionate, if not outright cold. Perhaps they had long detached themselves from the plight of the men and women they oversaw, the property of the Olivan. 

Ah yes, the slaves...

Amy recognized almost immediately that what she had been seeing on the main floor represented only a fraction of the club's "assets," and a fairly homogenized, human-centric fraction at that. The back room showed off the entire menagerie, the population constantly being refreshed as figures wandered off or entered through multiple branching corridors that lined the wall of a sort of half-dome at the far end of the room. 

The only unifying factor were the collars around their necks...

Other than that, everything else was on the table; Amy spotted tails, horns, wings and features she couldn't even begin to identify. One woman's skin sported spaced out plates of stunningly detailed geometric patterns laid out in some kind of crystal, her pale and delicate flesh visible below a strange internal glimmer in the gems, making her seem constantly illuminated by starlight. A man strode along the floor, his pair of human legs augmented by a column of stark black tentacles that fell from under his shirt, hugging his hips and legs like a veil. Yet a third...

She could go on describing the sights of the Olivan forever, and only occasionally see the appeal. There were some achingly beautiful beings out there, gorgeous creatures like works of living art that she longed to see up closer, but as sexual partners they were a mystery. Perhaps they could do things that no human could accomplish; specialized abilities for specialized fetishes. Or perhaps her past-bound mind had grown in a limited environment, developed her kinks around what was there, a limitation that didn't apply to a spacefaring civilization. 

Whatever the answer, standing at the precipice of entering this room was like nothing Amy had ever done before. She had no lifeline to her safe, familiar world, no experience with what she was coming into, and no power over the situation at all. The hard edged world into which she now walked offered no escape. 

And yet, she took her first step...

Taking a deep breath, Amy walked out into the centre of the hall, holding her head as high as she dared, trying to project all the confidence she could never feel here, to act as though she belonged even as her very being rebelled against the idea. Don't make waves, don't give anyone any reason to look over...

Eyes turned as she passed, with varying levels of interest. Some glossed over her after a moment, allowing her to be just one more in a sea of unfamiliar, collared bodies in this place. Others looked her over, seemingly searching for something, though whether they found it or not Amy couldn't tell in her rush to pass them by. 

Some of the guards took particular interest, and as one on the far side of the room flagged down another the moment he saw her, Amy's heart skipped a beat. She lowered her head and moved faster, only to run into...

'Fresh meat...' The voice sounded like radio static had been arranged into language, the buzzing of angry artificial insects, and it was attached to a face that matched. It was a male figure, in a vague, broad bodied sense, with a blurred, shifting outline that Amy found hard to look at. Though humanoid, the alien was a vivid, luminous blue, spiderlike veins moving in jolting, sudden patterns below his skin. When he breathed, Amy could hear the low buzz of electricity. 

'Wonder what you can do, Terran girl?' Another waspish buzz of sound, and the creature's head tilted with a suddenness that made Amy jump. He was wearing a collar just as she was, but there was an easy confidence in his movements that belied his lack of care regarding that fact. Their shared lower role would not save her from whatever he had planned. 

Was this the way business was conducted behind the scenes at the Olivan?

The alien loomed over her, stepping further into her personal space and forcing Amy to take a step back just to keep away. As he got closer a strange sort of tingling wound its way across Amy's skin, getting more intense the closer he became. Amy retreated, noting the interest the confrontation was garnering from nearby groups of slaves, none of whom seemed to want to do anything about it. They merely watched, impassive; entertainment must be hard to come by, here. Even the otherwise ubiquitous screens were missing. 

'They don't mind if we check, you know?' He buzzed. 'Just so long as we don't do any permanent damage that can't be fetishized. Otherwise...'

'Otherwise the guards get first rights, Proto,' A deeper, blessedly human voice cut in, a hand came down to grab Amy and pull her back, out of the alien's reach. 'Which is what's happening now.' 

The change was immediate, and Amy had to admit she was disheartened to see it, to watch the spirit suddenly drop out through the alien's feet. His head dropped deferentially, eyes losing their leer, that collar around his neck seemingly heavier by the second. Proto backed off, putting a safe distance between himself and the guard.

'Fine. She yours for now, warden,' He muttered. 'But she has to go back on the floor sometime. There's money to be made, after all.

'There is always money to be made,' The guard who had grabbed Amy was young, presumably human, though the lines of strange, jagged lettering tattooed down the line of his jaw and neck hinted at a non-Earth origin. Nevertheless, he was potentially the most familiar thing in here, and Amy wasn't about to displease him and risk being thrown to the rest of the room again. 

Without another word the guard led Amy away, dragging her without care for her own comfort off of the main floor and up the stairs toward a loose grouping of similarly uniformed men. They overlooked the rest of the hall, ostensibly keeping watch though with the command collars always present it seemed unlikely they would ever be needed. 

Of course, a show of force could do enough to subjugate just by being visible...

As they approached, Amy could see the expressions on the other guards' faces, leaving her with no illusions of being safe. There was an expectant, predatory kind of smile on each face, only growing more defined as she grew closer.

'Look what I found,' The guard that had taken her said. 'The boss' new toy. Cute little piece of past-ass.'

'Farrell, you sure we should be... fiddling, then?' A woman at the far end of the group asked. 'I mean, not that I don't want to, but if she's Fiori's favourite, then...'

'You haven't been on show floor duty in a few days, have you? He's not keeping her to himself anymore,' Farrell gave a nasty grin, and Amy's mind flooded with all the humiliations and trials she had endured over her time here. 'Little Red's been put through the ringer, got made up as a good little club slave in the end. And now, she's here.'

To punctuate his last sentence, Farrell spun Amy into his arms, forcing both her hands up above her head, crossing her wrists so he could take them both in a single grip. A shiver raced down Amy's spine; she hated being held like this. The focused, watching eyes of the entire group were bad enough, but the crawling unease she felt was exacerbated by her helpless inability to cover herself. Amy was forced to stand there, the guard's looming presence behind her, and allow herself to be ogled by the perverse assembly before her. 

'Now, we know how this goes, fellows,' Farrell said finally, once everyone had been allowed their eyeful. He dragged Amy backward toward the railing that ringed the platform they stood on, leaning himself on it so that Amy was almost in his lap, 'Etiquette is important and all. I found her, so I get her first.'

His knee jutted out slowly, forcing Amy's hips forward inch by inch, exposing her vulnerable pussy to the watching crowd. A foot tapped her legs apart, kept them open as Amy put more of her weight into Farrell's lap just to keep balanced, until eventually their audience had the perfect view as the man's free hand slipped down between her legs, fingers resting over her clit.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 32



'Don't worry though, I'll give you all a little warm up show first,' His voice was a rough, low scrape, seemingly directly in her ear. Below, his fingers began to move, playing over her clit, gently at first but with mounting insistence. He toyed with her in rough, unskilled, uncaring strokes, consisting mostly of pressure with none of the nuance that Sander or Fiori injected into every moment. Where the latter pair seemed to think through everything, so that each motion was a deliberate choice, Farrell's teasing was blunter, baser...

... And to her shame, Amy reacted. 

Her breath shuddered in her throat, cheeks colouring as the inevitable, heavy pressures of the hand between her legs did its work, turning her insides liquid. Farrell rubbed, circled her clit, let the pads of his fingers play across the rapidly moistening lips of her pussy without ever penetrating. The watching eyes were an almost physical force, bearing down on her as unwanted pleasure brewed in her hips, leaching up through her skin as the moments passed by. There was nowhere for her to go, no escape from the lustful gazes before her, and worse, no place for her to put her own gaze that was free from them. Eye contact was too humiliating a prospect to bear, but to look away was to show weakness, accepting that she was just as vulnerable as they wanted her to be.

Amy supposed it made no difference; like it or not, she was that vulnerable, a captive not only of the Olivan but of her own body. She squirmed, muscles twitching of their own accord despite her struggles to keep her arousal restrained. 

Fiori had told her why it was so easy to get her like this once, some nanite gas in the air that could recognize slave collars and would only activate within the body of those who wore them, keeping the slaves aroused and receptive and... oh god, why was it so good? 

'Did you think to check with the Master before you took this one, Sir?' The voice was soft, inflected in a strange way Amy couldn't quite place, and issuing from just outside of her view. She felt Farrell's head turn, watched the eyes of her audience shift off to one side. 

'Who asked you, slave?' It was strange, seeing that youthful confidence turn to venom in the space of a few seconds. But Farrell had spat the last word as though it were bitter, somehow their interlocutor's fault and not a cruel symptom of the sickened world they inhabited. But there was hesitance there too, a slight wavering tone that suggested to Amy less than total confidence in his latest actions, a notion all but confirmed as he added grudgingly, 'What do you mean, anyway?

'I mean that she is here for routine care, Sir. That her presence here was always meant to be temporary,' The words were delicate, clearly carefully phrased. Even through the softly spoken, submissive tones, Amy could detect something... no, not stronger, but smarter than was being let on. 'In fact, she is to be brought back to the Master once she is finished. He sent me to ensure it.'

'Oh did he now?' Oh, that had put him off guard. Amy relished the feeling, though it was scant, petty vengeance after what had happened- what was still happening- to her. In spite of the distraction Farrell continued to work between her legs, the motion rote and automatic. With a sense of creeping black dread Amy realized that the distraction hadn't been a reprieve for her either. 

She was going to cum.

'Please may I cum?' The words spilled out of her mouth, her will breaking after only a few seconds of trying to restrain herself. There was no point in trying, and facing an unpermitted orgasm would be far worse than the blow to her pride of just buckling under. 

Farrell barely took heed, his eyes drifting back to Amy for only a scant few moments, just long enough to mumble disinterestedly, 'Yeah, fine, do it.' 

Despite his apparent lack of care at her predicament, Amy noted that Farrell continued his stimulation anyway, evidently driven by some baseline cruelty that wound its way around the personalities of every guard here. Even so, with permission granted Amy felt herself slip, sensation rising to meet her as her treacherous flesh continued with its dirty work. Her legs trembled, her knees went weak as her pussy clenched on nothing, climax gripping her hips. Amy moaned, panted as she came...

...And yet, the conversation continued as though she wasn't there.

'You are welcome to check with him, Sir,' The unseen voice said, as Amy squirmed and panted. Through the fog of arousal she registered the slight modulation to her tone, the somewhat shocked notes at the idea that she could be anything but truthful. 'After I take her, if you please. I doubt either of us wish to be facing the Master after delaying him in his business, after all.'

'I'll be damned if I'm going to take orders from a slave, bitch,' Farrell growled, as Amy's thighs clenched around his invasive hand. 'I-'

'Look at her for a second, Farrell,' One of the guards ahead of Amy cut in. She pointed, 'She ain't one of the penny-ante girls. She's the Tau Forest girl, remember her? The one who came here in golden chains?'

'That's right, dude,' Offered another guard. 'She's probably serious...'

'I am, in fact,' Came the voice again. 'And I would point out, Sir, that the floor is resplendent with available slaves if you feel short-changed by this exchange. So I must ask: is this one in particular worth your job?'

'Fine,' Farrell growled after a moment. Turning, he pushed Amy toward the now visible interrupter, the last aftershocks of orgasm still racing up and down her spine. She stumbled, knock-kneed and dripping, before coming to a stop. Bent over and hunched to correct for her sudden momentum, Amy looked up into the face of her rescuer. 

There were three, in truth; all women, all nude bar for their collars, but not one species in common between them. Two aliens flanked the woman in the centre, and it was she who drew the eye, commanded the lion's share of the attention. She was human, proud and strong in her bearing despite her nudity. Hair the colour of honey washed down her back in amber waves, easily reaching down below her ass, caressing pale, milky skin with every tiny move. She seemed composed entirely of curves, graceful inclines from thigh to hip to waist to the gentle swelling of small, achingly perfect breasts capped with nipples so pink and alluring that even Amy desired to take them into her mouth. 

The collar around her neck was thinner and lighter than Amy's, with two strange metallic prisms set at either side of her throat, and it only completed the picture; this woman seemed built, from the ground up, for sexual submission. She wore her collar like queens wore crowns. 

Amy recognized her, they had... worked together before, but here, without the performance or the lurid, enforced sexuality of the stage she seemed completely different. Here she was at ease, able to take on her true bearing, and it was in that moment that Amy realized she hadn't even learned her name before.

Once the show had finished, they had both just been drawn away into the maelstrom of hands and cocks and never ending sex...

At her side were a pair of aliens in a similar state. One was a rather fetching shade of blue, traceries of luminous azure moving in intricate, vaguely biological patterns under her skin. Her hair was cut into a short bob, and it glowed a vibrant neon, the light starting out dimly at the root and increasing in intensity as it reached the end. The tips were like tiny sparks, flowing with her movements. Eyes like placid, tame fire peered out from under a flickering fringe. 

The other towered over the rest, composed of willowy, fragile-looking limbs. Strange curling growths swept out from her legs and arms, like thorns from a rose. Bone white and edged with red, there was a dangerous, imposing kind of attraction to her, aided in no small part by her physical stature. A quartet of wings, like fluttering, violet petals, lay flat against her back, pulsing gently with her movements. 

'Come now, new one,' The blonde extended a hand. 'We'd best be leaving, let the guards to their... work.'

The pause was beautifully calculated, barely there at all but more than enough to dig the barb in. Amy stood up properly, let herself follow the trio, as anyone that was heading away from where she had just been was worth keeping up with. They walked and, once they had drawn out of earshot, the blonde began speaking again.

'Don't look back, don't hesitate, just walk,' Her voice flowed, gentle and mellifluous. 'They're watching.'

'Fiori isn't expecting me back,' Amy said. 

'Nor will the guards check with him,' The woman replied. 'Would you ask the Master whether it was okay to be interfering with his stock? Besides, one girl is much the same as any other, once you've worked here long enough.'

'So you...?' Amy tried to form the words but ended up leaving the question hanging. After all the time she had spent in the collar, the very concept of being rescued by strangers from anything had become too ridiculous to contemplate. 

'Helped you out,' Offered the tall one, in a voice like the rustling of leaves. 'Help you find what's best.'

'You'll have to forgive Rho,' The blonde said. 'She's not used to communicating via sound. But there'll be time for all that once we're somewhere a tad... safer. Please, do come back to my room.'

Amy let herself be led down one of the branching corridors off of the main hall, and through a random door, one of many that lined the walls on either side. The room beyond was much like Amy's own; a small bedroom, dimly lit with a chilled blue mood lighting. The bed was the only notable furnishing, and it was large enough to accommodate several people at once, the high-tech metal loops hanging from the headboard hinting that it was used for more than just sleep.

'You have one just like it, no?' The blonde, apparently the leader of the group, asked once she had closed the door. 'All the "high value" slaves do. We're worth more, and so we're kept in little boxes. The throwaways get shared accommodation.'

Amy blinked, took a moment to analyse the odd mix of matter-of-factness and disgust present in that last sentence, 'I do. High value, though?'

'Oh yes, we're all considered rarities here,' She replied. 'And it's surprising what some people will pay for novelty. The starways are wide open, and our fetishes only expanded with them. Thus,' And here she gestured to the tall alien. 'Rhohendra is a Florian humanoid, who reside only in the Grand Stems of the Omega Forest. Aiahn,' She inclined her head to the faintly glowing blue figure beside her. 'is a High Conductress of the Achelveri Nebula-'

'Obtained at inordinate price with truly ludicrous effort, I assure you,' Aiahn cut in, voice sizzling with bitter electrical discharge. Amy realized she must be of the same species as the alien who had accosted her outside. 

'Yes indeed,' The blonde nodded. 'And I myself am Cherami San Josephine, Regent Queen of the Tau Forest. Amazing, how many of our clients wish to see a queen on her knees...'

'I don't think they're that discerning,' Amy muttered, recalling the hooting, catcalling mass of the crowd on the main floor, lost to their lusts and taking them out on any soft flesh they could find. 

'Oh, they are,' Cherami said. 'Some are. Some, for example, are willing to pay quite absurd sums of money to obtain the time and attentions of a traveller from the twenty-first century. She of innocent body and even more pure mind, for whom the myriad ideas and kinks of the future could not have occurred. She who can be moulded by them... your shock, my dear, your surprise at what your relative future can do to you is worth much, to a certain kind of client.'

'This place runs on such mind games,' Aiahn sighed. 'How improper.'

'This is all useful information and all,' Amy said, her voice still low and almost fearful, as though whatever safety she had been offered here could be yanked away at any moment. 'But why did you pull me off of the floor, back there? Um, not that I don't appreciate it...'

'Ah, yes,' Cherami said. 'Because you're new, dear. You're new, you're young... and I can see it in your eyes, you need to be taught the most valuable lesson one can learn at our little place of business.'

'Do I, now?' Amy tilted her head, a sort of wary curiosity brewing. It wasn't every day that a trio of nude alien women talked their way past the security that held you and escaped to a bedroom, after all. It was only the location Amy found herself in that made her think twice.

'Yes. Or this place will break you,' Eyes filled with crystal clarity flicked to Amy's. 'It will shatter you like glass, just as it has countless others before you. I'd rather not see that happen, dear. And so I'd like to teach you... though it's your choice either way. One of the few you'll get, so... savour it. Make the right one.'

'And the right one is-?' Amy said. 

'The one where you stay here and let me pamper you for a bit, yes,' Cherami nodded. 'Not everyone here is instantly out to get you, Amy. Just most of them.'

'Just most of them, you've got that right,' Amy said bitterly. 'What is with this place?'

'It simply does not care,' Aiahn cut in. 'That's the one fact about life here one should always remember: the Olivan just does not care.'

'Sit, my dear,' Cherami patted the bed beside her, shifting up the bed in the process. 'We have much to discuss, and potentially little time to do so. Work beckons constantly, after all.'

'If you can call it that,' Rho rustled. 

'Yes, yes,' The blonde waved a hand vaguely. 'Lucky for us, we have a few tricks at our disposal...'

When Amy didn't move, didn't take Cherami's invitation, the woman stood and reached down and took her hand. With a little gentle direction, Amy sat side by side with her, so close that the bare skin of their hips touched. Normally that would have been enough to stir at least a little internal squirming, discomfort at being naked around a stranger, but there was nothing now, to Amy's not inconsiderable distress. She liked to think that perhaps there was just something disarming about Cherami's presence, but the deep and traitorous voice at her core spoke of a different truth: she was getting used to being like this. 

When Cherami leaned over and kissed her, tongue sliding confidently into Amy's mouth, and she thought nothing of it for several seconds, that only made it worse. 

'Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?' Amy forced herself to pull away, shaking her head and, in an effort to separate Cherami from her, accidentally placing a hand on the woman's breast. The mixed signal did not go unnoticed, judging from the sly look on the blonde's face, but she seemed unperturbed. 

'Oh, come now,' She said. 'How long do you hope to keep this idea that sex is not to simply be taken? Here, of all places? Just relax, and perhaps recognize that I may be the one person in the entire club to care at all about your pleasure too, dear.'

Her hands moved, crossing behind Amy's head to give her a better position with which to drag the redhead closer. Again she planted her lips on Amy's own, but softer this time, not hesitant, but as though waiting for some form of permission. The sheer headiness of having a choice in the matter, regardless of how small it was, gave Amy reason to pause. 

'Besides,' Cherami murmured, so close that her breath tickled Amy's face. 'You know what they do to us, here. How they dope us up through the air. How valuable are a few moments of relief, really?'

Amy felt the moan bubble up from her chest, as Cherami's nipples brushed against her own, and she only just caught it before it reached the open air, dragging it back down into her. It would be so easy, especially in this chemically induced state of receptiveness, to just let the situation flow, to allow Cherami control of the situation and just... let go. 

But she couldn't. Not here, and not now, when for the first time in weeks she had been offered some modicum of choice. She was still Amelia Pond, and she would struggle because what she had, she kept. 

'We have time, and my companions have certain skills,' Cherami practically purred, hands drifting with the slow deliberation of one willing to stop at a moment's protestation. 'Aiahn is electrically charged, her touch is... quite vivid. If you're prepared for it, that is. And Rho's abilities are rather more relevant to the situation at hand...'

Another kiss, the girl's soft body pressed against Amy, the light metallic clink of their collars touching together the only reminder that anything was amiss here. Gently, Cherami positioned Amy, guided her to lie back, to open herself to the blonde's attentions. 

'Now, just sit back and relax, let me show you what I need to,' She said, planting another teasing kiss on the line of Amy's jaw.

She whimpered. 

'Okay...' She relented, let one hand drift to Cherami's back, a gentle pressure there bringing her closer. What was the point in denying this, in throwing up roadblocks in front of the few potential allies she might have here? What would it accomplish, when her entire world had shrunk down to sex anyway? At least this was something she could control, that she could derive enjoyment from. 

'I'm glad,' Cherami whispered. 'Since I only want to make things easier for you...'

She gestured to the two aliens, who had remained still at either corner of the bed. Seeing this, the pair moved; Aiahn sat at the foot of the bed, the glow of her skin increasing slightly where her weight pressed down on the sheet. The dim light of the room took on a dreamlike azure cast, constant shifting threads of light making patterns in the glow. 

The towering Rho, in contrast, merely stood at ease to one side, close enough to touch but still apart from the action, when compared to the others. One of her hands rested on the headboard of the bed, those graceful curving thorns catching the light of her companion, transforming into sapphire-edged scythes in the night. Her eyes glimmered with intelligence, peering out from a pale, tapering face, alien thoughts flickering behind them in a way that Amy found vaguely surreal. 

'I want to show you something, Amy,' Cherami said, her mouth lingering on Amy's neck. 'But to do that... Well, to do it with sufficient impact, I would employ the talents of my tall, Florian friend, here.'

'What do you mean?' Amy asked, voice quavering. 

'Rhohendra's thorns secrete an alternating set of chemicals that interact with the nervous system in some interesting ways,' Cherami answered. 'It's a part of their reproductive process. Fascinating, really; a form of direct memetic transfer, integral in a species that doesn't communicate nearly as much as we humans do. But it works on Terrans too, in a way that I think you'll find rather instructive. Just one prick, that's all we'll need...'

Amy felt her hand being lifted, and fought back just before it was put into contact with Rho's. This was all moving a little too fast...

'Trust me, dear,' Cherami's free hand had wandered- oh, had it ever- and to Amy's surprise she felt the woman's soft fingers between her legs before she even knew what was happening. There was skill to her touch, a practised ease with an obvious source, and when the pads of her fingers slid across her clit, a full body shudder went through Amy, 'I'll be right here, and if your trust is misplaced... what, exactly, have you lost? I'm either no more an enemy than anyone else here at the Olivan, or I'm a friend just waiting for your acceptance. But I can't harm you, not with this collar around my neck. You don't belong to me, dear girl...'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 32



'I don't belong to anyone...' Amy murmured, her mind supplying an image of Rory as the sole potential exception. 

'Well, you see...' There was a sort of matronly, chiding tone to Cherami's voice, as she guided Amy's hand up yet again, finally placing it atop Rhohendra's own, between the thorns. 'That's rather what I wished to discuss...'

'Keep still,' Came the wind-through-the-trees zephyr of Rho's voice. She flexed her wrist, the curved tip of a thorn grazing against the back of Amy's hand with ponderous care, just hard enough to graze. It lingered there, beyond briefly, and when Amy was allowed to pull away she felt no different. Gradually, a sense of... wideness began to fill her, an expansion of her awareness beyond the boundaries of her body. It surely must have been hallucinatory in nature, the same sort of floating, out-of-body strangeness that any chemical high could induce; Amy held on to that thought as she watched Cherami move, followed that golden haired head as it bowed, paused before taking one of Amy's nipples into her mouth. 

The redhead moaned and arched her back, and Cherami's fingers continued to play between her legs as she did so, slipping inside her as a soft tongue played around the sensitive pink peak of her breast. Her eyes drifted closed, and she allowed the sensations to dominate her awareness, to fill her up and banish the fear and worry from her frame. It was a mellow sensation, after all that time on the very edge of safety, used and abused for the amusement of the strange man who presumed to claim ownership over her, and the anonymous throngs he commanded. Just to be able to relax, to take this cell in the back of a slaver's brothel as a place of peace, was a valuable balm to a wounded soul.

And then...

'I come from the Tau Forests, Amy,' Cherami said, in a strange, vague tone, her tongue taking every opportunity to remain in contact with Amy's skin. As she spoke, strange images tracked across the insides of Amy's eyes, flowing in and out with the inflection of the speaker's voice. She supposed it must have been Rho's nectar working, supplying her with... 

What, exactly? Hallucinations to match Cherami's story? Fragments of her memories, is that what "direct memetic transfer" entailed? It hardly mattered, in the end; the imagery was so vivid and bright that Amy couldn't help but allow it to sweep her along on a current of pleasure.

Trees, rising up, grasping the sky. Trunks curving, spiralling around themselves, wooden helixes flowing up into a canopy of constant motion. Leaves rustling up above, so high that individual forms became indistinct, merging together into a singular mass of moving green and orange and brilliant auburn. Beyond it, in fragments and gaps, there lay a sky of inky black, stars like diamonds filling up the night.

'Nothing that you see here is real, dear,' Cherami's voice pierced the illusion, let it drift away. 'Not in the sense of being physically present and harmful. But it all happened, in my past. Back when I was a different person, the Queen atop my throne.'

Slowly, the blonde's fingers began to move in and out of Amy's pussy, making wet sounds in their wake. They curved, curled in, seeking out the sensitive places on her inner walls, the soft points that made her quaver and tremble. And oh, how easy they were to find, and how quickly Amy responded, moaning deep in her throat, hips following Cherami's touch as she retracted it.

'Have you seen the citadel of the Tau Forests, Amy?' She said, trailing kisses across her collar bone to the other breast. 'You have now. It was called the Sky Branch, the only Forrester dwelling situated above the canopy.'

A towering tree rose above the others, an ash coloured pillar in the endless night, lit by the distant and temporary light of the Forest's tiny sun. The leaves stretched, cupped, grasped at the limited light, drinking in what was there while it lasted. The dwindling day would only last for a few hours, and while it did it would barely pierce the twilight, and would not produce a daylight sky.

But another would come, just a few hours later, a product of the intricate tripartite dance of the Forest's triad of stars.

The citadel grew outward in one direction, hugging the thickest upper bow of the tree. It sat almost upon the blanket of leaves below, turning the canopy into a kind of ocean of vegetation, lapping at the shores of the royal palace. It swept upwards in a single piece, the wood encouraged via technology to grow into a convenient shape; Tau Forest lumber was some of the strongest there was, why would one not utilize such a resource whenever possible?

'From the Branch, I could always see the sky,' Cherami said, her fingers now glistening in Amy's juices. 'The short days, the periodic nights, and everything beyond. That included the spaceport that the Terran government placed in orbit above my lands. They like to keep tabs on any colony that started out even vaguely human, but all they did was watch, and encourage us to share our wealth with the rest of the colonies.'

Yet more images drifted through Amy's mind, mostly having to do with the ever-present silhouette of the spaceport in the sky, the massive satellite somehow contriving to loom over everything even over such large distances. She imagined, through the lens of Cherami's own suspicions and biases, that the great Terran monolith bristled with surveillance systems all directed down, drinking in every signal and pulse the Tau Forests sent out. 

'They took and took, everything we saw fit to give, but when we needed help... nothing,' Bitter venom threaded its way through Cherami's voice, and Amy gasped as she thrust her fingers into the redhead's wetness with more than the necessary force. She fucked her fellow slave a little harder now, teeth nibbling at her nipple as she continued, 'They watched, in fact, as we fell to war with the Gamma Foresters, over some dynastic grudge or other, the nature and history of which would be too much even for the telepathic properties of the nectar working through your system... Suffice to say that it didn't end well for us.'

She stopped her tale, as visions of smoke columns rising through trees filled Amy's mind's eye, and focused on the more immediate aspects of her world. Amy shivered, pale skin pulsing and tightening as Cherami's tongue trailed down her belly, ultimately joining her fingers in their assault between her legs. She whined with need, as that soft, feminine tongue probed, found her clit and moved over it, long fingers pumping Amy's pussy simultaneously. 

Pleasure bloomed in her, instant and sweet and addictive. Of course it was good; Cherami was a sex slave, her time at the Olivan had crafted her body into a finely tuned instrument of sexuality, evidently. Her lips fastened over Amy's clit and sucked, tongue playing over it as the pads of her fingers trod over the nerves of her cunt, stoked arousal down to her very bones. 

It presented an interesting counterpoint, a conflict to the images of carnage filling Amy's mind's eye...

Amy's eyes fluttered open as a weight shifted on the bed, and she watched the blue alien shuffle up, bringing herself closer. Slowly, her eyes on Amy, watching every small movement for signs of refusal, she lifted her hand and let the back of her hand brush, so gently the pressure of it was almost nonexistent, against Amy's arm. 

She gasped. She flinched. 

Aiahn wore an encouraging smile, ignoring Amy's instinctive reaction and pressing on further, her fingertips moving up the girl's arm toward her shoulder. This time, Amy simply allowed the contact to happen, forcing herself to endure beyond the space of a second and truly interrogate the sensation of the alien's touch. 

It was warm, and soft, but none of that mattered. What drew the attention and kept it was the electrical charge it contained, the licking tongues of electricity that reached from Aiahn's skin to Amy's when she disengaged. It was a surprising sensation, but not unpleasant; the point of contact tingled just shy of the edge of pain, feeling alive and receptive to every moment of tingling touch.

Amy had once seen a sex toy online, a sort of wand that unloaded a static charge into the skin when it was passed along a body. She imagined that Aiahn's touch felt quite similar to the effect of that toy. 

In time she learned to relax and go with the flow, to allow the second pair of hands to join Cherami's in caressing her body. The alien focused on her chest, fingertips teasing Amy's nipples, as the blonde queen never stopped her ministrations on the girl's dripping wetness below. Closing her eyes again, Amy concentrated, simply allowed the sensations to flow over her, reclaimed just a little bit of pleasure for herself. Aiahn's fingers were a strange kind of nice on their own, but when they were replaced by the alien's tongue, soft and wet and tingling as it ringed her nipple, Amy couldn't help but moan and arch her back. 

And then Cherami's story started back up, changing gears as imagery flooded back into her head.

'The Gamma folk went to war with us, and the Gamma folk won,' She said, lips smacking against Amy's labia. 'The clan leaders installed themselves there and took control... but what to do with the Tau Regency? Lucky for the Gammas, the entire royal family had been reduced to one young woman at the time...'

Cherami, standing proudly. 

No, not proudly... defiantly. With the same regal bearing she displayed even while naked and enslaved, chin held high and eyes burning with righteous fire. Clad in finery the likes of which Amy had never seen she stood, in the middle of some great hall of wrought wood threaded with silver. Figures surrounded her, but this was Cherami's memory, and they were not the focus; though they loomed over here they were little more than silhouettes, a backdrop to what was going on. A cage of shadows. 

Just three of the present throng were people and not shapes. They stood at the end of the hall, glaring at Cherami, shouting her down one after the other. Amy knew, in an instant of revelatory sensation, who they were. The clan leaders of the Gamma Forests presided over the last, petty disgraces of their vanquished foe, stripping her of her power and rank over her own world, before finally, they seemed done with her. 

Finally, one of the three stepped forward, a metal collar glinting in his hand. 

Despite all of this, Amy squirmed, body roiling with pleasure, feelings too numerous to list. There was a new roughness to Cherami's touch. The depth and force of her thrusting fingers seemed to intensify by the second, spurred on by the current darkness of her story, but rather than empathy, what she was doing stoked quite different feelings in Amy. 

She felt herself growing closer to the edge, bit her lip against the tide of ecstasy... She couldn't cum now, not when what they were talking about was...

'What to do with the last remaining royal, Amy?' Cherami asked, her voice a low and bestially sensual growl. 'You can't keep her around, lest she cause trouble, inspire those still loyal to rebellion. Killing her just puts one more martyr in the minds of the disenfranchised. The only sensible path was to send me offworld, somewhere I couldn't come back from. Happily, the galaxy is brimming with such places, especially if your goal is humiliation in addition to simple removing your problem.'

A pink sky, vibrant and deep. Endless, pressing down from above onto a jungle planet quite unlike the Tau Forests she had come from...

'My eventual destination was called Enphra Reductii,' Lick, suck, speak. Cherami's rhythm never changed, such was her devotion to the clashing signals she filled Amy's brain with. 'A world with but a single civilized outpost upon it, carved out of the wilderness that surrounded it.'

She paused for a moment, and sunk her teeth into Amy's swollen, red lips. Pulling, her eyes flicked up to catch the combination of discomfort and arousal that settled upon the redhead's features, before she let go. 

'That outpost specialized in the training of sex slaves for places like this, Amy.'

Another lick, another jolt of honeyed ecstasy climbing up her spine, and yet Amy gasped at the sheer power of the image that marched into her mind at those words. There was an aching familiarity to it, a pang of loss at seeing another world of slavers, so similar to her own brief stint at the Chrysanthemum Guild... and the last time she had seen the other girls there.

A row of women, lined up on one side of a room, some random, anonymous room in the world. A row of men, in an identical line on the other side. Humans stood beside alien beside human again, the only uniform aspect being the downtrodden, flat expression that they all shared.

There was Cherami, being marched into position by one of the thronging guards that seemed omnipresent. She still wore her collar, as did they all.

Amy writhed. Even Aiahn's teeth carried a charge, as the alien nibbled rings around Amy's nipples, keeping uncanny time with Cherami's thrusting fingers, which were now adding their own little curling, come hither motions inside her, hitting the sweetest of spots along the way. 

'Oh, please...' Amy whimpered, fists clenched in an agony of indecision, not knowing whether to let go, or hold back. 'I'm going to-'

'Why should you?' Cherami's mercurial eyes gave away nothing, as they flicked up to meet her new plaything's. Her tongue slowed its dance along Amy's clit, those long fingers moving at a frustrating fraction of their previous pace. Amy was no stranger to this, she was in fact well versed in denial, but something about encountering it now, in what was supposed to be a safe environment surrounded by allies, added a special edge to the frustration it brought. It was the one thing she hadn't been expecting, and yet Cherami continued, 'I couldn't. For weeks, months, I couldn't. My... trainers wouldn't allow me to.'

A circlet rings Cherami's hips, conforming to her shape via in-built mechanical contrivances, yet still loose enough that it could barely be felt. And yet it hummed, thrummed with its own internal workings, tiny hardlight projectors slipping their glowing payloads between the blonde's legs and out the other side, connecting to a circuit at the back. What resulted was a shimmering orange, one-way gusset, a holographic chastity belt. 

Cruelty incarnate, on a world that ran on sexual slavery.

More memories slithered through Amy's mind, a cavalcade of humiliations, punishments and training regimens from Cherami's time at that hated facility. She tried desperately not to think of them as a sick kind of pornography, but with Cherami's skilled touch and Aiahn's confusing mix of pain and pleasure keeping her just shy of the precipice of orgasm, it was hard not to. Each image reached out to the darkest parts of Amy's libido and stroked, torturously, filled her up with arousal until even the sheer wrongness of what was happening faded away under the all consuming need. 

Women kneeling, by the dozens, their mouths moving up and down a series of mounted dildos with an almost grim sense of resolve. Cables snakes from the mounts, relaying data from the sucking lips to a pair of straight-faced men via a screen; readouts for pressure, speed, tongue motion... a blowjob reported in exhaustive detail. 

Cherami knelt at one end of the group, collared and... working. Every now and then one of the girls squealed and jumped, a buzzing arc of electricity delivered direct from collar to flesh as punishment for some deficiency of oral skill or another. This was training, the construction of a product out of raw material, and laxity would not be tolerated.

'Oh god, please!' Amy's voice shuddered, as a lash of Cherami's tongue brought her closer than ever to the edge, just before the point of climax.

Pain. The sounds of it, suffusing the room, bouncing off of the high ceilings and storming back down onto the suffering forms below. It came in so many forms, as diverse as there were points on the slave's body; the lash of a whip, the slap of a crop or paddle, the thin slice of a cane. Each delivered a tiny shock, but that was just the beginning: clamps tugged from nipples and clits, plugs expanded to stretch aching cunts...

... And the vicious bondage the rows upon rows of strung up women had been placed into could move at will, straining their taut and helpless bodies in new and inventive ways, moment by moment. Because they were slaves, and it was expected that their future Masters would punish them in ways they needed to be able to withstand. 

Nobody likes a broken toy, after all.

'Not yet, Amy,' Cherami spoke, and the words shivered through the endless chain of recollection like a hailstorm, bringing Amy careening back into her own aching, desperate present for just long enough for the sound to reach her ears, and deny her what her body craved. 'You hold it.'

Toes curled in awful, overwhelming pleasure. Mechanical arms extended from a bank on the wall in rows, spindly and twitching constantly. They were tipped with tiny brushes, wispy ends so fine it was hard to see individual bristles with the naked eye. Those bristles were in near constant motion, guided by a tiny sensor mounted on the device, up against the clit of the women bound before them. Metal straps encircled their hips, keeping the slaves perfectly still and within reach of the brushes at all times, as those feather light caresses teased the stiff, swollen centres of their pleasure. Blindfolds kept them sealed off in their own little worlds, with only the slight, insufficient movement between their legs and the moans of their sisters in slavery to keep them company. Each girl took to it differently, this edging assault, but to a one their empty, frustrated pussies dripped freely, arousal collecting in a puddle between their legs. 

On the wall, a timer counted up, racking up the time this group had spent in today's session. When it ended, the blindfolds would be lifted off, and the slaves could see how long they had lingered under the ministrations of the brushes. Today, it had already climbed past five hours.

Below it was a separate column, made to count the cumulative number of orgasms in a given session. It had always remained, horribly, hopelessly, at zero.

'They kept us like that for so long,' Cherami's mouth never seemed to leave Amy's trembling flesh, even as she spoke. Her words were warm, tickling breaths against the dripping arousal of Amy's cunt, yet another note in the symphony of desire that sang through her body, never reaching its crescendo, 'Do you see? After a while, all we could think of was sex...'

'I know...' Amy whimpered.

There are rooms, in the darkened corners of the outpost, where the slaves-in-training are stored when not in use. Silent places, gloomy and suffused by the low volume, exhausted mewling of the hopeless, the women and men and everything in between are leashed to the walls there, perhaps even restrained if their violent temperaments call for it. 

It is easy to tell the difference between the newcomers, and those who have been guests of Enphra Reductii for a while. 

The newcomers remained quiet, wrapped up in their own little worlds, frightened and ashamed at the ways their bodies were betraying them during the training process. They shrank in on themselves, heads lowered and eyes hooded, jumping at every sudden sound and flash of movement. Their collars sat awkwardly, the weight clearly uncomfortable as they fidgeted.

But oh, the veterans...

Cherami didn't know how long some of them had been here, but she had known the moment she joined their ranks. Everything in her ached, the walls of her pussy empty and wet and...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 32



When one of her companions, a whey faced woman with a hunted look in her eyes, shuffled over and offered what help she could, Cherami spread her legs and let her. She watched, with interest but not hope, as the slave's fingers attempted to penetrate the holo-shell that shielded her pussy, skidded uselessly on the faint glow. Her eyes took in that ungainly scrabble for purchase, as the slave sought for some point of ingress, with a dull sense of inevitability. Cherami watched, and the woman failed.

And when she gave up, and sat back on her haunches, Cherami leaned forward. She returned the favour, prodding for structural weaknesses that didn't exist, the knowledge that there was nothing to be done only recently reinforced because, as she blushed and dripped and trembled, unable to remember her last orgasm, Cherami's flesh screamed for any chance of relief. That terrible, pointless hope sang through her clit every moment, and there was nothing she could do but try.

And fail.

'That was my life, Amy dear. For months, that was my life,' Cherami had taken to nibbling now, the hardness of her teeth a startling sensation after the overall softness that had gone before it. Amy gasped and writhed, but she had no choice but to listen to the words, 'Do you understand? There was no escape, no way out...'

Looking down over her own naked body, Amy watched Cherami's eyes narrow with an effort of concentration, and suddenly she was descending through torrents of memories far faster, careening wildly from one past moment to the next, reducing them to endless flashes, entire scenarios playing out in her very soul in a fraction of a second. 

Blindfolded, sight blocked out, only sound remained, and the feeling of cock sliding over her tongue-

'No end to it, no relief from the teasing...'

Arms held pinioned behind her, face forced into the floor, legs spread wide around an invasive bulk as some unseen man fucked her-

'And over time, I realized, the one thing that allowed me to survive. The one fact that kept me sane.'

Steel tendrils enfolding her, extending out from a thick rod that clung to the curves of her back and hips, reaching out and embracing her at every joint, every point of potential motion. A cage, precisely the size and shape of Cherami San Josephine, holding her perfectly still with its wrought iron fingers, as below a machine powered cock pummelled-

Lick, nibble, suck. Her fingers dove into Amy to the third knuckle, curled up against some sensitive spot. The first pulsing wave of climax was upon her in the single second before Cherami retracted and took that blissful orgasm with her. 

Unidentifiable fingers tugged at her nipples, the only certain thing being that their consistency was not human. They pulled, inciting a cruel ache and sting, something undefinable, beyond words-

'So if there's one thing you take away from my story, Amy,' Cherami's voice was a venomous purr, darkness edging her every word. 'It's that when faced with the odds we've been presented with, there is but one safe option...'

Afloat, in a sea of bodies and hands and tongues and teeth. Stripped naked and tossed into a crowd, set adrift for the enjoyment of faceless, anonymous perverts-

'Give in,' Cherami snarled, a tragic kind of savagery settling over her features. Suddenly, three fingers plunged into Amy's pussy, far harder and deeper than she had taken them before. 'Now...'

Aching, desperate body, touched and fondled-

'Amy...' 

Fucked and used and enslaved-

'Cum for me...'

Desperate for release that would never come, until-

Amy came. 

On her knees, eyes downcast. The collar fits her now, as she obediently sucked Fiori's cock at the back of the auction house, taking it deep into her throat. Her ears pricked up, seeking any evidence of his enjoyment.

For she was a slave.

A sob wrenched itself from Amy's throat as, all at once, the climax she had longed for crashed down upon her as her mind rebelled against the very notions that fuelled it. Cherami's message of surrender burned at some deep and abiding part of Amy, offended her sensibilities at a level so fundamental she couldn't put words to it, and yet the images that came with it made pleasure sing in her veins. Sparkling electricity climbed her hips, made her back arch and thighs tremble, made her bite her lip and groan, but her rational mind screamed for it to stop.

She was watching Cherami's downfall, and her body lapped it up like some shameless whore. 

After her orgasm ran its course, Amy came down on the verge of weeping. The relentless physical stimulation had softened things, but Rho's nectar had painted a vibrant, all too real picture in her mind, one that was still in the process of leaving an impact even as the floating sensation left her, and the pleasure slowly drifted away. All she had been left with was the strange intentions of the group that had spirited her away.

'You see, dear?' Cherami came up, wiping her mouth as the last notes of ecstasy ran their course through Amy's body. 'It doesn't matter who you are or where you've been. Queen or commoner, these people have turned submission into a science. They will beat you, so don't give them a reason to beat too hard.'

'That doesn't mean we shouldn't try,' Amy panted, trying to stop herself from shaking, and failing even at that. 'We have to at least try!'

'That's what I thought,' Cherami said sadly, and shook her head. 'And then I didn't. It's the bits in between those two states that I'm trying to save you from, dear.'

'I-' Amy tried to speak, then stopped as too many words vied for verbalization. She took a moment to reorganize her thoughts and discard the ones that would seem disingenuous, which unfortunately left her with: 'I'm not going to give in.'

'Well, when you do, I'll still be here,' Cherami sounded more disappointed than anything else, and even Amy had heard how unconvincing she had sounded. 'I just hope you don't break before you bow. Rho, please take her back to her room. Through the back way. Keep her safe.'

The last thing Amy saw, before the door slid shut behind her and blocked what was left of the group from view was Cherami, eyes filled with a resolute kind of sadness, as if an inevitable tragedy was incoming, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

********************

Amy was brought back to reality by strong hands, lifting her bodily and tossing her, with an accompanying grunt of exertion, onto the bed. She landed on her stomach, and bounced once before those same hands pressed down upon her, dragging her into position, bent over the edge of the bed.

'Keep those legs spread,' Lem said above, in a tone that suggested that the possibility of disobedience hadn't even crossed his mind. He positioned himself behind her and, with little fanfare, with the kind of self-assuredness in taking what he wanted that set Amy's teeth on edge, he entered her, sliding in to the hilt in a single, slow thrust. To her shame, Amy hadn't been able to dispel her arousal even at the little fuck show she had been made to put on with Cherami earlier; her cunt still dripped, and ached as Lem filled it. She groaned, voice coloured by both satisfaction and discomfort. 

He moved slowly in her, allowing himself time to become accustomed to the feel of her, the heat and softness of her body, before speeding up. It was a progression, gradual enough that before Amy knew it she was being pounded, fucked in hard, long strokes with the sort of skill she had become accustomed to in her time here.

It wouldn't be a day at the Olivan without someone forcing her to cum, after all...

'You know, I started out so worried...' Lem said from up above.

'Yes, Sir,' Amy replied breathlessly, biting back a moan. Truthfully, she was barely listening; what he said hardly mattered. He would do what he wanted anyway, and besides, these slavers prized agreement and obedience over intellectual conversation.

'It took me a while to catch up, but once I did I was able to get ahead of you, plan ahead,' He said. 'Which gave me the luxury of being able to wait, and bide my time.'

There was a sound, a hiss that lasted a few seconds and descended in tone the entire time. When it was over...

'So I did that,' Lem's voice had changed, or more accurately, vanished. Amy's eyes widened as he continued to talk, aggression and anger mounting in the newly formed sound of his voice, 'I waited and watched, and frankly I think I've done that enough. It's pretty apparent to me, now, that you either don't know what I need to know, or you're not gonna just give it up. So screw it.'

With a snarl, he flipped her over, splaying her legs around him without ever stopping his thrusts, filling her with his cock again a scant second later. Amy gasped, horror flooding her in a thin black tide, as a hand clapped down around her throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut her off.

'Don't speak,' He growled. 'I don't want to hear a goddamn word out of you beyond the answer to my next question. I've traipsed all over this city looking, I've sat and fucking watched for days, waiting for you to give up the information I needed, but you never did, not even hinted, so fuck it all. Weeks of work abandoned, but I don't care anymore because it leads me to ask you, Amy Pond, one very simple question...'

'No...' Amy groaned, despair adding a special edge to the stimulation he was still giving her. She turned her head to one side, eyes screwing closed to block out the terrible reality before her.

'One question, Amy,' Sander Hackett said, looming over the girl. 

'Where. Is. Christina?'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 33



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

Hi guys, sorry for the delay; those of you following the comments on the last chapter might know why that is. It's my aim to get Panic Moon back on a more regular update schedule, but sometimes things happen and I don't have the time to write this stuff. That said, I'm trying, so please visit my profile to see more of what I'm doing, and if you like it at all, please comment or vote; I love that. Enjoy!

-Kurokami 

*************

'Where is she?' Sander rumbled, his cock balls deep in Amy's abused and sopping cunt. 'You were the last one to see her, so where did she go? Hmm?'

A deep hole seemed to open up in Amy's chest, a black and yawning void where her previous emotions had been, as her mind stalled and struggled to come up with an appropriate reaction. Sander's appearance had been sudden, jarring, and had so many implications beyond the boundaries of this one room that in the moments following his resurfacing, Amy had nothing to say.

Very quickly, however, horror began to work its way into that void, chill and cold, light as air and filled with whispering, treacherous thoughts. Amy shivered, forced herself to look away; the man was still fucking her in hard, long strokes. Her mind was cold, but her body roiled with sensation, wet and wanting. It didn't know that Lem had been Sander all along. All her cunt knew was that it was filled, after being abused for so long. 

'Where did she go, Amy?' He growled, fingers still clenched around her throat. 'She was with you, she escaped with you, and then you separated from her, so where did she go? You must know something.'

'I don't... know!' She managed to, quite literally, choke out, the words small and faltering under his grip. Her heart pounded, she could barely think as she bounced up and down on the bed under the force of his thrusts, but one thought remained locked in her mind: 

Sander's back.

'You know what? Hold that thought,' Sander took a deep breath, and Amy could see him winding back, restraining the frustration that had driven him in those first frenetic moments. Anger still burned in his eyes, but it was reined in now, producing more focused, careful movements. He kept fucking her, one hand still locked around her throat as the other... explored. Reacquainted itself with her body. His fingers slipped down, between her breasts, and he paused to run his thumb over a pink, perfect nipple. 

Without thinking, Amy's body reacted, her back arching into his touch. It was strange to think about, but this sudden shift in the identity of her customer had altered the rules in her mind; this wasn't just some random alien passing through, this was Sander. It was right that she should struggle under him, not give in and let him take what he wanted. Amy just couldn't picture Sander Hackett as a part of the Olivan's clientele; he would forever be that independent, vengeance-crazed tormentor. Her kidnapper, not her renter. 

But how could she fight him, aching and sore and beaten down by the system as she was? If she crossed him now... what would he do? 

Like it or not, he was the only link she had left to her old life, and his return seemed... insubstantial somehow. As if he could fade away into mist at a moment's notice. 

And so, she spread her legs wider, hating herself even as she did. Her arms lay useless at her sides, fingers slowly curling into impotent fists as she let herself surrender to Sander's insistent, powerful fucking. Desperate to find something else to focus on, Amy concentrated on her breathing, limited as it was by his tight grip around her throat, above the line of her collar. 

It was like he was... holding onto her, somehow. Not just gripping her throat, but keeping her pinned, spread open like a butterfly under glass. Inspecting her, if the way his eyes slid over her body was anything to go by. 

Amy couldn't help but squeak, vocalizing with every powerful thrust, her head spinning with fear and lack of proper air. Sander, of course, didn't care and he kept her down like this until the final moment, the tense culmination when his cock twitched and spurted within her, the man above exhaling a heavy, growling breath as the orgasm drained out of him. 

It was with a sort of sullen, challenging satisfaction that Sander withdrew, his softening cock slipping from Amy's poor, abused pussy. His grip loosened at her throat, and she drew in a deep breath for the first time in a while, exhaling it in a sigh of relief as he moved away. Any distance from Sander was a good distance from Sander. 

'I'm willing to buy that you don't know,' He said, after a while. 'Because that girl fucking vanished. Christina's not exactly a team player, either. Of course, that just makes my job that much harder, but... well, we'll deal with it.'

Amy struggled up onto her elbows, her eyes never leaving Sander's familiar form. He had just... appeared, and now everything was suspect. She could no longer trust what her eyes told her, if faces could just blur and change, old enemies replacing newer ones at the drop of a hat. How long had he been... here? How many faces had he worn?

And of course, there was the lingering question of Claude...

The bulky man sat at the far end of the room, apparently unmoved by the sudden change that had come over his employer. It wasn't something Amy could particularly blame him for, distracted as he was by Cherami's lithe and supple form in his grasp. He pounded into her merely as a means of keeping her occupied while "Lem" had focused on Amy herself, but there was an edge of enthusiasm and directed interest that hadn't been there before. Gone was the vaguely apologetic man who had been with Amy earlier in the night; what was left was... 

Not Claude.

'Hey, you,' Sander snapped his fingers in Claude's general direction, without turning his gaze from Amy. 'We're done here. You can, you know, stop.'

'I'm actually feeling pretty good about this,' He replied, voice twanging with arousal. 'Gimme a minute here.'

'I'm not... I'm not going to do that,' Sander shook his head, before dipping a hand into his pocket. Moments later, Claude's outline began to blur and change, visibly shrinking from the tall and powerful man who had once been there, into a form more curvy and distinctly familiar. 

'Well, you're just no fun today at all, are you?' Mara said, flicking eyes filled with mock irritation to Sander, as Amy's mouth fell open. 'Aside from the fun I'm having here, I guess. Damn, why didn't I try these things out earlier? Ren was right, this shit is awesome!'

Her words trailed off into a soundless purr of physical delight, muscles going taut as her legs shook. Mara's hips still moved in long, scything motions, slamming into Cherami in perfect time with the slave's quiet, mewling vocalizations. The blonde trembled in apparent orgasm as Amy and Sander watched, shamelessly revelling in her pleasure, heedless of her audience. 

When she finally subsided she physically dropped Cherami, discarded the girl to the floor as though her use had been fulfilled. Without a sound, she scuttled out from underfoot; whatever was going on above, she didn't want to be dragged into it. 

Free from such entanglement, Mara stood tall, skin gleaming with well-earned sweat. A thick shaft of black rubber bobbed between her legs, moored to her hips by a harness, wires entwined around the base in impossibly complex patterns. The look was instantly familiar to Amy, recalling the bio-feedback cocks that Ren had been so fond of, what seemed like years ago. This one had an attention-getting difference, however, in the sculpted set of balls hanging below, undoubtedly full of whatever chemical cocktail Mara had shot into her earlier in the night, Amy realized. 

So much effort put into such a tawdry trick...

'Okay, I'm done, I'm done,' Mara said with a great exhalation of breath, shoulders unwinding. Absentmindedly, her hands reached up to fondle herself, 'But our whole thing here is kind of a bust, right? I mean, she doesn't know.'

'She doesn't know, but it was worth a shot, right?' Sander slipped beside the blonde, putting an arm around her. Kissing her lightly on the lips, he added, 'And you did have some fun in the bargain, so I'm not prepared to say today's a complete loss. We'll just have to go to Plan B.'

'Oh good, there's a Plan B,' Amy said, bitterness etching her voice like acid in defiance of weeks of slave training, parts of her mind recoiling from her tone in fear of being struck. It didn't matter anymore; for the moment she was no longer under the Olivan's thumb, no longer a club slave, property to be used and thrown away at the customer's discretion. She was Amelia Pond, in a room with Sander Hackett and Mara Syfte; obvious fear was no component of that relationship. 

'Since when have I ever not had a Plan B?' Sander shrugged, dropping heavily onto the bed beside her. 'It just takes more effort, is all. How have you been, Amy?'

'How have I been?' Amy rose up, cheeks flushing hotly. 'How do you think I've been? You sold me to a damn slaver!'

'And you ran away,' Sander's voice remained frustratingly level, as though Amy's anger was no great imposition. 'Escaped slaves are open to resale if they aren't claimed by their owners after a specific, and short, period of time. We aren't in Leadworth, Amy. We're in Selestene, and things are very different from what you're used to. Why did you think I'd have the power to help you after that? Why did you think I'd have the inclination, even?'

'I saw you in the crowd,' She snapped. 'At the auction. You just stood there. You're so very, very rich, you keep saying, but you just watched as they sold me like I'm a sack of potatoes.'

'No, they wouldn't have done a memory scan on potatoes,' Sander said. 'Not much content there that'd be alluring. Bad comparison, Amy. Besides, you ran away, and now you're telling me I should have bought you back, at tremendous expense? This is a mixed message if ever I've heard one.'

'It would have been better than here, Sander,' Amy said, glaring. 'Better than just driving up my price so that they put more effort into... into training me!

'Except you might learn your lesson here, Amy,' Sander's gaze was level and full of judgment. 'You might learn something about how cruel and uncaring the future can really be. And perhaps, embedded in that rebellious little mind of yours, we might come to find a lesson about the importance of obedience toward the only person keeping the jaws of that big, open, empty universe at bay.'

Suddenly, without so much as a pre-emptive hint of movement, Sander's arm lashed out, his fingers gripping her chin. He held her like that for a moment, his grip so strong and vaguely threatening.

'I'm not the Doctor,' He said finally. 'I'm not nice like he is. If you wander off around me, don't expect some gallant fucking rescue. And if it does happen, through some miraculous conflux of charity on my part, you'd better come back grovelling, or not at all. That's how this thing goes.'

'Yeah, Ren?' Mara had stepped off somewhere in the background, beyond the range of Amy's sight and apparently talking on some form of communicator. 'Pond doesn't know shit, so we're moving on to the contingency, okay? I know it might take a while, but we'll need you to keep watching just in case. Standard stuff, just keep out of sight...'

With a sigh, Sander seemed to subside, the intensity draining out of him even as some small part of it seemed to linger. Amy wasn't out of the woods yet, even if Sander's focus was currently elsewhere. Reaching down into his pants as they lay discarded on the floor, he withdrew something from the pocket and brought it up to Amy's neck. 

There was a click.

'There,' He said, low and growling. He gave the leash an experimental tug, only to find it securely fastened to Amy's collar. 'Now we're ready.'

With that, he pulled her up, almost dragging her to her feet by the length of- oh yes- chain around her neck. Like she was some kind of dog. He brooked no opposition, the metal collar biting into her neck when she faltered, even for a second. Whatever sense of mercy, of amusement at her resistance Sander had had before, it was gone now. In its place was simple impatience, a lack of interest in the things that, in the past, he would have derived great entertainment from. 

He glared back at her every now and then, as they traversed the halls, back out onto the main floor. Amy knew it was simply to ensure she hadn't tried to get away again.

Again they travelled out through that whirlwind of pulsing music and endless motion, this time with a kind of brisk insistence to their pace, such that individual customers were rarely in Amy's field of view long enough to be recognized. Sander led her to the door, ignoring Fiori's platform entirely, and before Amy even knew what was happening, she was outside. 

'Wait, you can't take me out of the club!' She said, once she had finally found her voice. 'The security protocols would-'

'Fiori and I have an arrangement,' Sander cut in. 'Like I said, I got ahead of you at one point. It's all been worked out beforehand.'

'How did you-' Amy stopped herself, remembering that she was speaking to Sander, again. Fiori had a hard rule against allowing customers to remove his products from the Olivan, a rule that Amy had seen enforced- in some cases violently- time and time again, but she was no longer in the presence of a normal customer. Sander could find a loophole or workaround for next to anything. 

As the cooler outdoor air began to leach through her skin, Amy realized that, though she was finally free of the confines of the club, she was still naked and leashed, this time in a public setting that didn't have the inherent expectation of nudity that the Olivan had. All around, eyes were drawn to her, but not with the universal appreciation her nakedness would garner in the club. Oh, this was still Selestene, and more than a few gazes licked up her body with lascivious intent, but there was far more disapproval than she was used to. One thing Amy had learned was that the Arcology had regional public indecency laws, from which the streets around the red light district she found herself in were exempt, but that didn't seem to lower public expectations much. 

As she walked, and tried her best to keep from catching anyone's eye, Amy finally realized the chill in the air, the strangeness of the artificial sunlight on her bare skin. How long had it been since she had been outside the Olivan? Time hadn't really mattered much inside, her life and segmented itself into work and not-work so easily...

Occasionally she saw them, out in the endless stream of people; collar-wearers like herself. Some were clothed, others weren't. Some were leashed, while yet others walked obediently behind their owners, eyes filled with that downtrodden look that Amy had seen so often during her stint here. None seemed liable to get free any time soon. 

And over time, they began to thin out, become less common. Sander walked with purpose, with a sort of angry conviction that made Amy loath to speak up, or try to find out where they were going, but the fact that they had a destination wasn't in doubt. He was not simply wandering, and wherever he was taking her, it was inside one of the more... morally upright districts of the Arcology. A place where a slave in public was an oddity, not a commonplace occurrence. 

In any other circumstances Amy would have been cheered at the change. But in Sander's hands everything took on a sinister sheen; the man no doubt had a plan, of which she herself was just a pawn. She doubted her part in it would be a pleasant one.

Even still, she allowed herself to be tugged along, naked as the day she was born, through the streets of an alien city, past organisms and businesses the likes of which she could never have imagined before seeing them in person. As long as she was within the boundaries of the red light district, the occasional moan or, more disconcertingly, scream echoed out from some open window, or through a particularly thin wall. The sounds of ill gotten pleasure were a constant soundtrack for this section of the city, and they made Amy's skin crawl. 

But they passed fairly easily through the district, up streets that became a little wider, a little more... respectable, with each passing step. The windows ceased to project lurid holograms upon their glass, the people began to become more well dressed, and eventually, more human. 

Amy had gotten used to the presence of aliens by now, even more so than during her time in the TARDIS. The Doctor may not have been from Earth, but with two arms and two legs and everything else in the right place he fit the bill quite nicely. He had been good for easing her into the wider universe beyond her sky, but he had ill prepared her for the sheer variety of forms on offer. But even they had become familiar, once she had been given a different set of priorities to deal with. 

It was amazing, what a collar around the neck did for one's priorities. 

Being without them now, being in a crowd of such homogenous appearance was... unsettling, in a way. Human faces passed her by almost exclusively now, a sea of humanoid bodies walking on streets that wouldn't have looked terribly out of place back home. In fact, it was the familiarity of the setting that got to Amy the most. Humans were easy; Amy had grown up around humans, she knew their behaviours and expressions and feelings as well as she knew her own. The interest, or disgust, or desire with which they looked at her was as bright as signal lamps. 

Humans were her own kind, and when they looked at her like this, on streets not unlike the ones back home, it really cut deep.

They all also parted around Sander, picking up on his silent, directed anger and opting to get out of its way rather quickly. There was something about a scowling man dragging a naked woman up the street by a leash that inspired the average person to step aside and perhaps watch curiously from the sidelines, once they had passed by. Amy could practically feel the countless eyes lingering on her ass the moment they were safe from further attention from Sander. 

And then the groping started. 

The further they travelled into what seemed to be a human-specific district, the thicker the crowds became. Sander walked on without a care, but Amy was not so lucky, as individual members of the crowd folded back in around her, hands surreptitiously outstretched as they passed to cup her backside or slip a finger or two up between her legs. When she objected, they simply walked away. When they slowed her, Sander pulled on the leash, heedless of the obstacle between her and the path forward. 

It was like being back on the Olivan's main floor, but somehow less friendly. 

After having walked across what seemed like half the city, Sander stopped suddenly, so unexpectedly that Amy almost ran into the back of him. He murmured into his communicator for a moment, before making a seemingly random left turn, heading into an empty construction zone, toward the shell of a large office tower. 

Immediately, Amy felt the subtle wrongness of the scene stirring in the back of her mind. She was by no means an expert on the technologies of this future society, but she had been around the Arcology enough to notice some commonalities, like the various forms of what she had come to know as security grids that kept guard over restricted access zones around the city. Usually they were little more than projected screens of hardlight fencing in private property, but what little she had gleaned from the conversations of others hinted at more lethal options being available. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 33



What she wasn't used to was a construction zone like this one having no security at all. 

They had just... walked in, straight through the complete lack of a grid encircling the walls. Sander could probably pay his way out of anything, but Amy had a hard time believing that he would pay to shut the entire grid down, rather than just bribing a access pass from the foreman. The stillness of the scene only added to her anxiety; it was obvious no work was going on here either. 

Amy was dragged inside, the incomplete room seeming dreadfully open to the elements, and the prying eyes of... whoever could see in. Two of the walls had windows fully installed, and it was into the intersection between them that Sander led her, her feet shifting uncomfortably on the rough, uncarpeted floor. 

'Okay,' Sander practically breathed the word, a long drawn out exhalation that seemed to drain all the tension from his muscles, anger slipping away from him, packed up somewhere else in his mind, away from the situation at hand. 'Now, I probably don't have to tell you this, you have no doubt figured it out already, but it would be an extremely good idea to be a good, obedient little slave right now. Imagine where you might end up if you disobey me a second time.'

The threat hung in the air as Sander moved closer, the leash slackening and bowing to the floor between them. Amy's mind filled with possibilities, new cruelties that could be inflicted, new places she could be abandoned in... everything that could happen if Sander happened to get any angrier than he already was. When he touched her, she noticeably flinched. 

It didn't deter him, however; if anything, her reluctance only seemed to stoke the fires already raging through him. His hand slammed into her throat, shockingly fast and in a way that kept her pinned to the wall. The line of his fingers aligned with her collar, preventing him from outright choking her, but the implication was clear. His eyes were... strange; he glared, clear blue and intense in such a way that clashed with the sort of offhand lust that also lingered there. 

He wanted her, but when simply taking her was so easy, such a desire became almost casual. 

Sander's free hand drifted, wandered down her body with obscene ease. It cupped one pert, pale breast, squeezing hard enough to make Amy squirm with discomfort and whimper pathetically. She hated herself for giving him what he so clearly wanted this quickly, but she daren't speak and make it worse. 

'So how did you like the Olivan, Amy?' He said in a low, private voice, just for the two of them. As he spoke, he took her nipple between two fingers and pulled, tugging gently to punctuate every word, 'Compared to how I took care of you, say? You're a slave either way, a tight, owned little body... but how bad do I really come across, now you're got a point of comparison?'

Amy kept her mouth resolutely shut, but she couldn't keep her mind from answering the question anyway; the truth was they were too different to properly compare. The Olivan, as a company, desired different things from a slave- and right now Amy was too addled to think of herself as anything else- than Sander did. The Olivan was a business, and within the bounds of that club she had been a product, and one that needed to be shaped into the correct utility before sale. Resistance, anger, humanity, had not been tolerated.

What the Olivan had wanted was her body, her pussy and mouth and tits and ass. Nothing else. 

Sander, on the other hand, had picked her specifically. It hadn't been some lithe body he had sought, it had been Amelia Pond, twenty-first century resident of Leadworth, England, that he had wanted. And for very specific purposes, too. That purpose had been revenge, admittedly, but there had always been more to it. Attraction, fascination in some ways, and more importantly, a value to her victimhood. 

For Sander Hackett, it wasn't enough to simply have her. Her struggles were what he wanted.

That, Amy reflected as Sander's fingers moved further down and slipped between her legs, was the key difference. The Olivan didn't want a person, they wanted a product. But Sander kept her human, because a human would struggle and blush and cry, a person wouldn't simply accept the kinds of things Sander did to her. Either way, Amy was simply a means to an end, but at least with Sander's means...

She was sure to come out the other side herself. She wouldn't end up like Cherami.

'Where would you rather be, Pond?' Sander asked, as his wrist pivoted and two fingers delved deeper, into a pussy that was still shamefully soaked and tight, throbbing around him. She gasped, shivered, felt herself tighten and tremble as he moved with an ease borne of familiarity, and felt his words drip coldly, hopelessly, through her mind, 'Did you escape into a better deal, Amy? Or were you just being fucking naive?'

There was expectation in his eyes now, as he slowly, quietly finger fucked her. He wanted an answer, probably wouldn't stop until he got one, but Amy had nothing to give. Her pride made the thought of admitting he was better for her as unappealing as an idea could get, but to say otherwise was to risk his anger, and the possibility of losing her one chance to escape from the Olivan. 

What could she say? What words could possibly make this okay?

'The Olivan-' She started, drawing out the last syllable into a shuddering moan as Sander drew his fingers over a sensitive spot inside her. Through gritted teeth, she continued, '- was a nightmare. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I was... better off with you...'

Sander's mouth twitched, a momentary smile the only interruption to his concentration. If Amy hadn't been watching closely, she never would have caught it, but it was there. He was pleased that she was thinking the way she was. 

Of course he was. Beating her down like this was what he had spent years preparing to kidnap her for. 

'I know,' Sander chided. 'But then, I'm actually familiar with this planet. I understood the risks before I set down here. I'm not in the habit of day-tripping through worlds and cultures I don't understand, wandering around through someone else's world until crazy shit starts to happen. Your time with the Doctor has ill-served you for the realities of the universe, Amy.'

She opened her mouth to snap something at him, eyes flashing with sudden anger at the pang of recollection of what she had lost, but Sander's hand raced up, clapping over her mouth tightly as he simultaneously slipped a third finger into her, thrusting in deeply and suddenly. All that came out of her was a squeal of sensation, muffled by his hand and underlined by a shifting stamp of her foot on the rough ground, the unwanted pleasure making her lash out with directionless frustration. Without thinking, her hands came up, gripped Sander's arms in an attempt to push him away. 

Of course, he didn't go anywhere; Amy was plenty physically fit, but Sander was a genetically modified transhuman from the future. The futile gesture was enough, however. A lengthy stillness had settled over the man, a sense that some invisible, silent line had been breached. 

A moment later, he spun on his heel and walked away, sitting himself down on a clearly unfinished recess in the wall. 

'Come here,' He said in a simple, almost light tone of voice. 'You're wearing a Command Collar, so don't think about doing anything else, but I shouldn't have to use that. Come over here, Amy.'

He even patted his thigh, the beckoning gesture vaguely condescending in its friendliness. Nevertheless, Amy took one hesitant step forward after another. What other choice did she have? Naked and alone in an unfamiliar part of the city and, indeed, wearing the collar through which he could stop her with a word, she was once again back in Sander's clutches for the foreseeable future. 

And after that? Who knew? 

She still reached him far faster than she wanted, body language defensive and huddled in like a cornered animal with nowhere else to go. Wordlessly, Sander reached out with both hands, grabbing the rounded swelling of Amy's hips and drawing her closer still, until her legs touched his jeans-clad knees. Shying away did little, as her former Master's grip was sufficiently insistent to tell her what would happen if she tried to get away in earnest. 

Wordlessly, Sander kept his eyes on Amy's as one hand began to move. The redhead actually flinched at the metal hiss of his zipper descending. She broke eye contact first, her gaze dragged inexorably downward to watch as he fished his cock from his pants and let it bob, semi-hard and wanting, in the air. 

Her heart sank; this was going to happen again? So soon after the last time, when the bottom of the world had dropped out from under her and reintroduced Sander back into her life? Amy was sure her expression displayed her thoughts quite plainly, but Sander was undeterred. This was hardly surprising. 

The man leaned in, cockiness leaching through every pore in his body, so that when he placed his hands on Amy's hips again he could reach back further, grasping the roundness of her ass too. She squirmed at the feeling of his fingers pressed into that soft flesh, dragging her closer, forcing her legs to spread around his. There was nothing to stop him, no defence she could make that would be enough; inexorably he led her in until his prize, between her legs, was upon him. 

'Was it more satisfying, being the Olivan's whore?' Sander said, stopping himself at the last possible moment, the head of his cock splitting Amy's labia without truly entering her. 'Or when I do this?'

Before Amy could react, Sander's hands on her hips pulled down, hard. His erection forced its way upward, into her wet, treacherously needy hole, right to the hilt. Amy gasped, the sound wild and shocked, and for a singular moment, rendered in incredible detail in her mind, she could feel his tip throbbing inside her. Her body worked on autopilot, hips grinding against him as though he were just another customer of the Olivan, submission etching her form. Her head dropped, eyes downcast to avoid showing him the tears that sprang there at the sheer, familiar sensation of Sander's cock deep within her.

She no longer even had the luxury of hiding behind a curtain of hair. 

'God!' She exclaimed the word thoughtlessly, a simple, forceful expression of frustration at so many things. Sander's fingers dug into her hips, a sort of not-quite-pain discomfort providing a jarring counterpoint to the similarly unwanted pleasure washing up from below. 

'Keep your eyes up, slut!' Sander growled, the deep, angry vibrato in his voice brooking no opposition. Without space for conscious thought, heart pounding, Amy's head rose, her eyes on his, to behold the strange, undefined emotions in her kidnapper. The leash had lain forgotten between them since she had come to him, but now Sander picked it back up and tugged it tight to punctuate his words, 'Don't you look away from this...' 

The silence of this strangely abandoned construction site rang out as Sander began to move, rolling his hips slightly, in and out as arousal climbed her spine against her will. It took only the barest of impetus to get Amy moving herself, a spank to her ass causing her to ride the man she was atop like she had been taught, hours of discipline and unyielding expectation from Fiori forcing her pussy up and down Sander's shaft as though it were a muscle memory. 

Trapped looking into Sander's awful gaze, Amy turned her attention to the reactions of her own body, something she at least had some modicum of control over. Not as much as she would have liked, it turned out; she couldn't control her nerves, as they drank in every sensation with relish, forcing her to feel every ridge and throbbing inch of Sander's cock in perfect, prurient detail. She couldn't control her cunt, as it dripped down his shaft as she pushed herself off of it, and then back down, nor the way it clenched tight on the man's shaft moment by moment. She couldn't control the flush in her cheeks as he fucked her, nor the tightness and sensitivity of her nipples as they occasionally brushed against his shirt. The panting of her voice was one of the few things she could properly control, but opting for gritted teeth and silence didn't exactly help.

After all, she couldn't contain the occasional whimper as Sander's cock slipped in particularly deep, nor the fluttering unsteadiness of her breathing. 

'There now,' Sander grinned, all too aware of the effect he was having on her. Amy's eyes never moved, but for a second his drifted, taking in the rise and fall of her breasts with every harsh breath, almost in time with his thrusts. 'Isn't this better than that dingy little club? Isn't it nicer, having my cock inside you than sucking off strangers in that back room they gave you?'

She felt herself blushing harder, his words strangely... out of character, almost. Far from the stripped back taunting she was used to from him. Amy wished he would stop talking so dirty, when every word went straight to her clit, elicited memories from corners of her mind she would rather forget about. 

The last client who had wanted her mouth on him loomed large in her mind's eye, the way he'd forced her down onto his cock until she couldn't breathe, the blurred refractions of the dim light through her watering eyes, the way his cum had tasted, as he'd walked away right after finishing, leaving her gasping for air on the floor of that cell. 

She hadn't even spat it out. She had been all alone, and still she had swallowed it without even thinking. 

Like a good girl... 

Her hips rocked forward in that special way, almost as if she was trying to curl in on herself from the bottom up, and as her backside scraped his jeans her pussy angled just right for a burst of obscene, jolting ecstasy to thud along her inner walls and up into her belly. She gasped suddenly, eyes wide as she saw Sander recognize what she had just done, what her training had made her do. 

Really, his reaction times were so much faster than hers...

If she had been quicker on the draw she could have drawn herself back, put her body out of alignment, lost the position to keep it from him. But his hands were back upon her too fast, fingers gripping and groping and squeezing, a barrier that she could not pass. He kept her locked there, right at that angle, so that he could feel her back arch and her tits press into his chest as he drew his cock along that one lovely spot in her spasming cunt. 

And again. 

And again.

By the third thrust, now positioned perfectly to turn her traitorous body to jelly Amy couldn't stop herself from crying out. She took the risk of bracing herself on him, one hand on his shoulder as her new posture left her at risk of falling. The rational part of her mind told itself that she would stay upright because letting Sander down was too great a threat, but the primal part of her that throbbed in her clit told the rest of the story.

She didn't want it to stop...

'There now,' Sander growled, ignoring Amy's sobs of desperate, forced pleasure. 'Give it up. You like this better than that club I took you from. You like being my whore, more than being the whore of some cadre of alien strangers. Admit it.'

'Nnngh!' Amy gritted her teeth to bite back the moan that Sander's latest, deep and probing thrust had ripped from her. Her eyes remained opened and locked on his, and though she knew that answering back was a fool's errand, one word stuck in her mind like a splinter in the skin of her sanity, making her pride rumble and rise, demanding a response, 'N-not a whore...'

The words had come tremulously, hesitant and small, issuing as they had from a mouth that had been thoroughly conditioned over the past days to revile and reject even the concept of resistance. It had been a struggle, in fact, for Amy to speak at all, as if parts of her had been trying to shut her down even as she formed the sentence in question. Her heart beat faster to hear it in the air, the evidence of her being a bad slave filling the reality between he and the man fucking her like some kind of noxious poison. 

Amy actually flinched, expecting pain that never came.

'Don't fool yourself, girl,' Instead of lashing out, of punishing her, Sander merely shook his head, slight laughter causing his shoulders to rise and fall, his voice to come uneven. 'Like this? You're a whore no matter what you do. At the Olivan you weren't getting paid, but you were having sex so somebody could make money. You know that, right? That you're a product there? Or did you think all those dicks you sucked, all those fuckings, were just for someone's amusement?'

And here Sander stopped, considering something in the back of his mind even as he continued to screw her, hips rolling and cock sliding deeper each time. He even kept her tilted at the right angle for maximum effect, his grip a rigid constant so that even as Amy just sat there her body rippled with arousal, cruel and intense.

'Okay,' Sander said eventually. 'They were kinda for my amusement, sort of. A bit. More than you'd think. But the point is that you shouldn't harbor any illusions that there was some greater point to all that. You were a whore there, and you're a whore here. Hell, you were a whore back in fucking Leadworth, in those short little skirts and fetish bait bullshit. Really, your whole adult life has just been a matter of intensity, based around that one single theme.'

Amy had begun to open her mouth to respond, what pride that had survived her time out here demanding that she argue back, but her captor wasn't about to allow that. Before even a single sound could be uttered, Sander thrust in deeply and stayed there, his cock buried up to the hilt in her molten wetness, the incline of his hips rubbing incessantly against her clit. With the little bundle of nerves already swollen and erect from the stimulation thus far, it ached and reached for this new pressure, bolts of pure prurient lightning shooting up Amy's body from below. She gasped, the words ripped from her throat at their inception, ceded to the shocked, desperate panting of sex. 

'So what I want from you, Amelia Pond,' Sander said after a moment, introducing a slow, slight motion to the proceedings, a thrusting barely a few inches in length. Barely enough that Amy's needy cunt could detect it, that the movement could give her a few seconds of delectable contact, of pressure, along the length of her hole. She shuddered, feeling the heat of what was happening to her all throughout her body, as Sander continued, 'is an acknowledgement of the truth. That you were better off under my thumb. That you, and all the other girls, had it better as the slaves of Sander Hackett, than you did when you were turned loose out here in the universe.'

Amy stared, struggling to decode the ultimate goals of his words. Distracted as she was, she knew it was a hopeless endeavour, but she couldn't keep her mind from wheeling through possibilities, what she knew of Sander, anything that might make her aware of the hidden barbs in his words, the trap that lay at the end of whatever path he wanted to send her down. Though seemingly nonexistent, Amy was sure that it was there, somewhere she couldn't divine, concealed in some rhetorical flourish or another, and that Sander was waiting for her to trip the right trigger, to say the thing he needed her to say- and had begun leading her down the primrose path to saying- in order to pull off his next trick.

But, evidently, Sander was not willing to wait, and he leaned in with a sharp edged grin, whispering in her ear.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 33



'Admit that I'm the superior Master, Amy.'

Ah. So there it was. An obvious trap, in retrospect. 

Anger rushed up in response, but it was masking something deeper, a cold realization that had been brewing in the back of Amy's mind for days now. The trouble was, Sander was right. He was the better choice, objectively. The Olivan hadn't just failed to care about Amy as a person, it had actively sought to eradicate her, to shuck out the woman she was as though her soul was little more than the useless pit at the core of a more valuable, fleshy fruit. Her body in a collar, holes always ready and pliant, was all they required.

Sander meanwhile... well, what was he doing now? Teasing and taunting, tempting out the resistance that would be unthinkable in the club. Drawing out the defiant, spirited Amy Pond that Fiori had tried so hard to erode, the one that had been there all along, fostered and nurtured by the Doctor, and traversal through the friendlier portions of space that she still longed to return to, once she had clambered out of these shadow lands. 

Sander was the superior Master because Sander was a Master at all, not merely a tradesman sculpting a tool out of raw material, like Fiori had been. 

Still, as real as that fact might be, sharp and cold like a knife in her brain, Amy wasn't about to verbalize it. Once it stopped being a secret in her head it was real, something shared between herself and Sander, an understanding that would fill the rest of their interactions with its looming, unbearable presence. 

And he would tell Mara, and Mara would tell Ren, and there would be nowhere for her to turn to avoid that presence...

Besides, there was something else that Amy needed to say, as she suddenly realized, with a sort of growing horror. But her mouth was already working on autopilot, forming the words that had spared her such punishment in the club.

'Please may I cum, Sir?' It came out as a rote whimper now, as she automatically contrived to add in notes of vulnerability and weakness that seemed to appeal to the majority of her customers, gave them what they wanted and, hopefully, prompted them to show her the mercy of just... allowing her orgasm and getting it over with. 

Back then, it had simply been expedient, a pragmatic choice she made to lower herself. Right now, with Sander pounding at her pussy in some abandoned building, her voice rang out as pathetic and weak. Context changes everything. 

'No, of course you may not!' Sander answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'Not when there's still an order you've yet to obey, Amy. What kind of slave would ask that, knowing there's unfinished business to deal with?'

She wanted, desperately, to screw her eyes shut. To attempt to block out what was happening to her, the man who was doing this to her. Amy had had plenty of experience with denial in the Olivan, all those anonymous punters who had pressed her body's natural reactions to that climactic peak and opted not to give it to her, getting off on the idea that they could make her squirm like a helpless, horny bitch. That they could make her want them. But they were wrong, and she could drift away from them with ease; it was as simple as closing her eyes and imagining other things. It never worked completely, and she could never forget what was happening to her there, nor the shameful wants of her body, but it was something.

Something she could not attain with Sander. 

He wanted her present, that was the problem. He kept saying and doing things that would drag her mind forward, keep her engaged and aware of the skill with which he could manipulate her. And so her eyes stayed open, her legs spread and positioned just as he desired... and her mind lingered, dwelling on the impending orgasm she was forced to keep just out of reach, and what was happening to get her there. 

It wasn't the simple, mechanistic thing that an Olivan orgasm was, no simple conflux of nerves and physical contact here. Sander knew exactly what he was doing, and that was the trouble. Amy knew, right in the depths of herself, that she wouldn't be able to hold off forever, and that more importantly, Sander wouldn't help her any. He wasn't interested in teasing her so she could beg, now; if she failed and came without permission, then that was just an excuse to punish her. 

Amy could only imagine the kinds of punishments he would cook up now, of all times. Potentially before just dropping her back at the club and leaving again, abandoning her to her fate, if she wasn't a good slave. 

'I...' For her own sake, the words had to come. She had to force them from her lips, no matter what they did to her. 'I was better off... ahhh!' And here she trailed off into a wordless moan, at Sander's encouraging inward thrust. 'Under you. Y-you're the better Master, Sir...'

Despite the standing order not to, she hung her head, shame making her cheeks redden and burn, far worse than they ever had before. The truth was harsh and cold, and now shared between the two of them it could be fashioned into a weapon to prod her whenever she felt vulnerable, to twist a knife that she herself had made and handed to her captor for nothing. 

'I know,' Sander growled. 'And you're still not allowed to cum.'

He stood then, bearing Amy aloft with the kind of ease that hinted at the sort of strength the man could bring to bear at a moment's notice. She whooped at the suddenness of the motion, wrapped her legs around Sander automatically to gain some kind of stability, her hands landing on his shoulders to avoid falling backwards. But there was a certain momentum that had yet to halt, as Sander swung her around, essentially trading positions with her, so that Amy's backside landed on the same hollow Sander himself had once occupied. He had her seated there, while he stood over her, his new position far better for overpowering and taking advantage of Amy.

He gripped the leash once more, tugged it taut to keep her from sliding further down the wall and out of his reach. Not that Amy felt herself capable of struggling away anyway; for the entire movement Sander's cock had remained inside her, moving deeper and shallower at different points in a way that was both unintentional and dreadfully effective at attaining Sander's goals. 

Amy had come down onto her new seat gasping for breath and blushing furiously. 

Now repositioned, Sander could continue his assault, fucking her both harder and more deeply than before. His bulk eclipsed her vision, blocking out much of the surrounds; beforehand she had been forced to look at him, but now she simply had little choice. His hips scythed through the air, pounding into her so hard that the force of his thrusts pushed her back, bumping her roughly against the wall behind her. 

'You're all better off with me, than just turned loose,' Sander said, seemingly talking to the room at large rather than Amy specifically, completing thoughts out loud for his own benefit. 'You, Sally, Christina, Lorna... Maybe it hurts to admit it, but my collar is a safer place to be in, than some of the shit you could get embroiled in here. When you all ran away you saw that first hand, but what did you really expect would happen? You were in a city I took you to, what did you think it would be like?'

Amy knew better than to answer. He wasn't looking for one anyway, but any potential answer she gave that was at all truthful would merely attract his ire. Things seemed... delicate, now. Fragile, somehow; inviting Sander to anger at the moment, Amy felt, would be catastrophic. 

Besides, she had plenty of other things to occupy her mind in the meantime.

'Sir, please,' She hissed through gritted teeth, shooting him the most pleading look she could muster, eyes glistening with frustrated tears. She simply could not hang on any longer, 'Please let me cum?'

Sander opened his mouth to speak, and indeed did begin talking, but Amy's attention had already been drawn away, elsewhere, to a suggestion of movement to one side, beyond Sander's body. Her eyes stuck to it, even as the man above her continued to pump in and out of her, the sensations involved no less distracting or intense. They had previously been alone, after all, occupying some abandoned area where privacy could be assured. Any form of intruder was something worth paying attention to. 

The movement quickly resolved itself into a figure, and a humanoid one at that. As it drew closer, out from the well of shadows it had been hidden in, Amy was able to pick up more details; dark clothes and hair on a definitely human figure, crouched low to the ground and moving with cautious, silent steps. Blue eyes shone with defiant, nigh murderous anger... and the glint of a command collar in the light, hanging around her neck. 

As Christina got closer still, Amy watched something unfold in her hand, defined sharpness along its edge. Though she clearly knew Amy was there, the girl offered her no attention whatsoever, her eyes focused firmly on Sander as she took care to stay outside of his peripheral vision. Her slow advance brought her closer and closer, with the same ease that had taken her through so many successful burglaries and break ins. 

Amy's mind was no longer capable of racing, too much of her available attention had been taken up with Sander, her own concerns, and the way in which those two intersected. Had she been fully cognizant she would no doubt have asked the right questions, noticed the correct details; Christina had been at large this entire time, then? But unable to remove her collar? 

As it was, Amy's mind did manage to seize on a single pertinent detail: Christina was going to attack Sander. From the looks of the weapon she carried, and the bloody gleam in her eyes, she probably intended to do it with lethal finality. 

And did she expect Amy to just sit there and watch?

Hating herself for it, but knowing in her heart that Amelia Pond, the Girl Who Waited, would not simply stand by and allow this situation to unfold, Amy folded in her knees, and gave herself sufficient leverage to dislodge Sander should the need arise. Before she did so, she shot Christina a surreptitious look, hoping to attract her attention, a strangled, desperate plea to reconsider. 

If the noblewoman had caught the look, she didn't acknowledge it.

She raised her hand, and Amy kicked out. 

Sander stumbled back, the distribution of his weight ill-equipped to handle the sudden new pressure, arms flailing as he caught himself. At the same time Christina's arm scythed down into now empty air, the first sound from her mouth a growl of aggression, tinged with frustration at its terminus as her failure became clear. 

'Command: Freeze,' Sander, on the other hand, seemed far more on the ball, once the initial surprise at Amy's actions had worn off. Before he had even finished tripping he had transformed the movement into a kind of hopping spin, doing a complete three-sixty degree circuit, speaking the command just as Christina popped into his view. The effect, of course, was instantaneous, but also indiscriminate, the order having been phrased without a target as it was. Christina went motionless, but the numbing of the muscles, the sudden uncooperativeness of the body, was also shared by Amy, who limply slid down in her seat as the collar's effect washed over her. 

Sander turned, in a single continuous extension of what had come before, and took a handful of Christina's raven hair, dragging her upright, her unresisting body following insensibly. The man grinned, as his new captive glared daggers at him.

'Gotcha,' He said quietly, the phrase more a taunt than an expression of victory. As though the possibility of failure had never even occurred to him, 'And here I thought you were supposed to be some kind of globe hopping master cat burglar. All it takes me is a little walk around town, some loud talking and a little piece of mind altering tech and I get you that easily? Either you're losing your touch, or you never had much of one to begin with, Lady Christina de Souza.'

Words didn't- couldn't, given the standing order still drilling through her brain- come easily to Christina, and instead a formless snarl breached her throat, having to make do with coming out between clenched teeth and closed lips. Robbed of the tools with which the Lady Christina could assert her superiority, there seemed to be nothing left but anger and hate, bouncing around inside a body fit for something else entirely. 

Though Christina had evidently been unsuccessful in securing the removal of her collar, she had made a better go of other things, like finding clothes to cover that body. Black, and cut close to the skin, she wore a pair of trousers and a button-up shirt, stolen from some unknown place within the city, no doubt. Contemptuously, Sander grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled, tearing fabric and dislodging buttons, the little black discs wheeling away into the corners of the room, revealing a white bra beneath, cupping the woman's heavy breasts. 

'But, well, we know you have some skill,' Sander continued, pulling the ruined shirt from her body before moving on to the bra. 'All those museums and private art collections you plundered, I doubt those are all luck and happenstance. No, you're skilled. Which I guess just means one thing, then: I'm better.'

This brought another growl to the fore, the mere intimation of inferiority sufficient to set Christina's eyes ablaze even as she was stripped, systematically, of the clothes she had hard won, no doubt, from this city of slavers. Of course, this was precisely what Sander had wanted; he knew what kind of knife those words were, and his twisting of it was no accident. 

'To think, all it took to capture the great Christina de Souza was to get her angry,' He shook his head. 'Imagine the looks on those Old Earth Interpol jokers' faces, if I brought you to them like this and explained! Course, they're all long gone, you record has gone dark... they never caught you, by the way. How could they? You were here with me the whole time.'

With a firm hand and a smug grin, he stooped to undo her pants, toying with the clasp at the front as his free hand ran imperiously up between her legs, 'I did have something they didn't, admittedly. A command collar keyed to your brainwaves, one that you couldn't remove yourself, nor could you get anyone else to remove it in an arcology that respects the collar as a symbol of ownership. Well, what else could you do? You're not leaving this place unaccompanied with that thing around your neck, and you're not getting any help with it on either. More likely you'd just fall victim to opportunistic sellers like the Chrysanthemum Guild that took the rest of the girls. No, you'd have to track down the guy who put you in the collar in the first place, and force him to take it off you.'

And here he stopped, paused for emphasis, and slid her trousers down slowly, taking in her bare legs as he did so, 'Not when he was with his team, of course. Ren would take you to pieces, and I have enough telepaths on staff to keep me well informed of your whereabouts should you get too close to us all together. No, you'd need to find me alone, and vulnerable. Say, while walking one of you co-captives through the streets in a blind rage, frustrated over my inability to find you?'

He gave the thought time to sink in, before adding, 'And if he happened to wander into your little hideout in the process, past all those security devices you'd stolen the keys for and deactivated, into a place of seclusion, if he happened to get himself distracted in fucking away his aggravation, saying all sorts of things to the poor girl he's with to incite you, in turn, to act out violently then, well... all the better for you, isn't it? Unless he knew what he was doing the whole time, of course.'

Amy had listened as all the warmth in Sander's voice had drained away progressively throughout his little speech, leaving the last few words to leave him as a steely growl. With that, he ripped the panties from Christina, leaving her naked and collared once more.

'There we are. Right back where you started, which is exactly what you deserve,' Sander sighed, then tugged back on Christina's hair, making her raise her chin. 'Or did you think we wouldn't suspect that you were the ringleader behind this whole debacle? Hey Amy, do you still need to cum?'

He paused there, actually paused, despite the sure knowledge shared between the three of them that Amy was just as unable to talk as Christina, and in any case wouldn't respond in the affirmative even if she could. That it hardly mattered what her opinion was also occurred to Amy, and had no doubt done the same to her counterpart standing with their captor, but still the frustration with the man's endless taunting rose in her chest.

'Doesn't matter,' Sander said eventually darkly. 'Here: Cum.'

Dragging Christina along in his wake, Sander returned to Amy, nudging her legs apart with his foot before bending the dark haired woman double, forcing her head between Amy's legs and against her pussy. He growled something under his breath, just to the bent over woman herself, and Amy yelped at the sudden wet pressure of her tongue, up against an already oversensitive clit. 

She couldn't help but moan afterwards, of course. 

Though she became absorbed in Christina's reluctant oral attentions quite quickly, so unfortunately aroused had she been, Amy couldn't help but notice what Sander was doing; keeping an eye on Sander had proven to be something of a survival skill for her. Humming quietly to himself, he sought to arrange Christina's backside in a specific way, spreading the girl's legs wider and having her bent at the hips rather than via some curvature of the spine or bended knee. 

It didn't take a genius to see what would come next, but Amy still winced in sympathy at Christina's suffering groan, once Sander had positioned himself at her hindquarters and still with his pants open from earlier, thrust forward. 

'Such a small cost, really,' Sander grunted, slowly withdrawing himself from Christina before pushing back in all at once, drawing another wordless sound from the girl. 'In return from being saved from slavery or destitution. Because that's really what you were all this time here, Lady de Souza; not a cat burglar, but a homeless person.'

Perhaps he kept speaking, perhaps he remained silent and simply concentrated on fucking Christina, but Amy didn't care either way. Her pussy, already aching and denied from earlier, had begun to contract, clit shrieking with the sensation of Christina's lips and tongue, a shameful and traitorous orgasm overtaking her all too quickly. She whimpered, the sound tiny and all but swallowed up by the much larger sounds that Christina and Sander were making, as pleasure rippled through her in waves, rounding the curves of her hips. She shuddered in shame, her thighs gripping Christina's head as, beyond the both of them, Sander tightened and growled, presumably in the grips of his own orgasm.

Christina closed her eyes, and in the corners of them, Amy could see tears.

'Okay!' Sander said finally, clapping his hands together as he stepped away from the women, all bounce and evil grins. 'Well, this has been a productive day, hasn't it? All these things happening! Take five, ladies, I need to make a call.'

He turned his back, reaching for his earpiece in the process, but when he spoke, it was plenty loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.

'Hey hey, Sander here! Hi Ren, job's done, we're heading back...'

***************

Up above the scene below, beyond the exterior of the arcology's dome and ascending further into the upper atmosphere, something stirred and moved. A ship descended, rounded edges and sleek, chromed red metal concealing the more oblong engine blocks and flight elements. Lights blinked off and on across the metal skin of the hull, alerting anything in nearby airspace to the presence of the hulking ship dropping steadily out of the sky. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 33



Within, long corridors opened out into sweeping, open rooms filled with milling crowds. Humans and aliens of all shapes and sizes traversed carpeted floors, in transit from place to place. Though many were dressed casually, they moved among others in uniform, shooting friendly-yet-deferential smiles to all they passed. The forefront section of the ship even contained a pool, water held below the rim by a low level, semi-permeable force field, windows looking out into the sky, offering a wonderful view to any potential swimmers. 

If one were sitting in the pool now, they would hear a variety of noises echoing down from both of the adjoining corridors, flowing out from the doors that lined them and into the wider room, echoing from the vaulted ceilings. 

To the trained ear, it would be a symphony of sexual pleasure.

If one were to further leave the pool and travel down the leftmost corridor, they would find a door at the end of it- steel, rather than the more welcoming wood of the other doors- with the words "Employees Only," stamped into it at roughly eye height. 

Beyond that door were yet more rooms, visually less inviting than the corridor before, but this is to be expected; after all, these rooms were for employees, not guests. The employees knew why they were there, they didn't need to be courted and appeased in the same way as the people they served. 

Room thirty-one was the only currently occupied room, this being the particular occupant's break time. She lay on her bed, hips scooted to the very edge, high heels on the floor, thighs spread wide almost luxuriously. Her eyes were closed, arms splayed carelessly across the ruffled, disorganized bedspread. 

And her dress was hiked up around her hips, revealing her trim and dripping pussy to the man on his knees before her, himself naked, collared, and with his face buried between her legs. 

She moaned as his tongue brushed gently against her clit, her back arching slightly as she let the sound trail on, encouraging him to keep up what he was doing. Feedback was important, when dealing with slaves. They needed to know from outside; it gave them less chance to do something of their own volition that might upset the paying customers. 

Suddenly, something rapped on her door from outside, and immediately the woman raised her head, eyes following the sound. She frowned, and sighed almost wistfully. 

'Ah, too bad about that,' She said, running a hand through the slave's hair before taking hold and pulling him off. A note of frustration edged her voice as she stood, letting her dress fall about her in a crimson wave, 'I suppose you don't get to fuck me tonight, either.'

'We're coming in for landing at Selestene!' Came a voice from the other side of the door, both female and familiar. The occupant of the room adjusted her dress at the news, checked her dark hair in her dresser mirror, since appearance was important out there on the guest decks, and huffed her way to answer the knock. 

'So we're needed up front to deal with the new stock, eh Mariel?' She said to her visitor, offering her co-worker the closest she could come to a friendly smile, for a woman who had just been interrupted before her orgasm. She gestured back toward the naked man on her floor, 'Best make him available to the customers, then.'

'Yes indeed,' Mariel nodded, starting off down the corridor back toward the pool. She beckoned over her shoulder, 'Come on, Oswin. There's work to be done!'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 34



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured: to get the full experience, please read that one first.

Hi everyone, I'm back, and far more timely than usual. I'm back into the swing of things, writing-wise, which is saying something because I'm working on my second novel on top of Panic Moon, and a couple of other projects that I'm sure will interest a few of you at least, when they come to fruition. You'll be seeing a lot more of me in future, I hope.

As usual, if you like what you see, please do let me know any way you like, and otherwise, enjoy!

-Kurokami

*************

'Well, I will admit: this is the most distracting setting for a negotiation I've ever been in.'

Sander sat across from Fiori in a room that was, at least, less open and more secure than his dais on the main floor. Even so, the deep, sonorous thud of music still penetrated the walls, the occasional whoop and cry from the club audible even over the chaos of sound beyond. One had to wonder at the kind of creature that could make a noise that loud.

But it was the other occupants of the room that caused the greater distraction. 

Amy and Christina knelt at either side of Sander's seat, like concubines at the feet of a lord, leashed and fastened to clips set into the sides of the chair. Fiori's club seemed to have been built, from the ground up, specifically under the thesis that it would be used to contain slaves, and Sander was more than happy to take advantage of that. His captives were naked but for their collars, but he had become... accustomed to this, to some degree. Oh, he took some prurient delight in their nudity even so, but there was no challenge to it, no hunt necessary to merely reach out and take them. 

Not so, for all the other slaves. 

Fiori had his own retinue of four-uniformly female- slaves, two of which were hooked to the chair much as Amy and Christina were, and looking roughly as displeased about that as their counterparts on the other side. The other two stood at either side of his chair, tall and lithe and gorgeous, leaning on the back of their Master's seat, with masses of flowing dark hair atop their heads caressing skin the colour of lavender, etched with green tattoos of vines, curling up around their beautiful forms. Aliens rarely looked so appealing, even the collared varieties. 

And even they were not the end of it...

'Distracting, perhaps,' Fiori said with a shrug, gesturing about the room. 'But undoubtedly more entertaining than some stuffy board room, is it not? Not to mention, far more appropriate, given the content of our negotiations.'

'True enough,' Sander said, his eyes going to the far side of the room to their meeting setup, wherein a large cage sat, bars of shimmering red energy keeping its contents within. Women and men, of varying sizes and shapes, but uniform in species, were contained there, huddling in the centre of the cage but, perhaps strangely, seemingly unafraid of their situation. Serene interest crested every face, placid calm suffusing every attractive naked body, as they wore their collars- black leather rather than the more common command collars- as though they had been born to them. 

Amy and Christina occasionally looked toward the cage, and the mix of trepidation and interest with which they did so was perfectly apparent, especially to Sander's well trained eye. It was understandable, he supposed; after all, he had dragged the both of them here, back through the streets, directly from the construction site in which he had recaptured Christina. Of course they would be concerned at the next part of his plan, given the... ardour, with which he had conducted himself thus far; they had made him angry, and perhaps fearing the consequences of that was prudent, if ultimately ineffective at saving them from whatever fate he had in store for them. 

Happily then- if Sander were to deign to tell them this, which was not something he had on the cards- what he intended to do here had little, if anything, to do with his captives. 

'Of course, I doubt there's much to actually negotiate, is there?' Sander continued, tilting his head. 'After all, we've rather sorted it out ahead of time. If anything, this is just an exchange of goods: thirty slaves from the Venate Schism training grounds, and a prime piece of real estate, of no less than five hundred square miles, of the same from me...'

And here Sander stood, allowed his hands to land on each of the nude girls beside him, tousling their hair to their great irritation.

'And from you, the lady to my right, special rights to the Chrysanthemum Guild's correctional facilities, and... well, the rest.'

"The rest," had been rather hard to come by, given its highly specific and idiosyncratic value to its owner. Getting Fiori to shift on this issue, to give Sander what he wanted, had taken a great deal of care and planning, all undertaken within a very short length of time. The last few days especially had been a high speed dash around the city, negotiating terms and gathering resources to entice the underworld figure into going along with Sander's plan. 

He frowned; all this work, in service to what was essentially one big gamble. Who knew whether it would pay off? Well, he supposed he would have to wait and see.

'Yes, the rest,' Fiori nodded dispassionately, before reaching for a tablet computer that had been offered to him by one of his girls. 'Well, allow me to transfer the girl's ownership data over to you. You'll have her legally this time, though your... new acquisition does raise some questions too. You picked her up literally in the time it took you to come back from... wherever you went with Pond?'

'Heh, yeah,' Sander grinned. 'That's a long story. And not one that's particularly entertaining to retell, I think. Let's not waste all day recounting the exploits of our rebellious slaves, yes? I'm sure you can gather from what I'm buying from you, but I have kind of a busy day on the cards. I'd like to get on with that.'

'Yes, of course,' Fiori shrugged. 'I'm in the same boat, I suppose. You'll find the Guild will let you in when you flash your credentials, and you'll have access to all the most useful rooms there. Don't hesitate to contact me if they give you any trouble at the door; I'm more than capable of opening your way. I'm one of their best customers, after all.'

'A fact which makes me infinitely jealous,' Sander said, standing and tugging the pair of leashes from their posts hitched to the chair, nonchalantly dragging Amy and Christina to their feet. The brunette gave a wordless growl and opened her mouth to speak, but Sander got there first, 'I could always leave you here, my dear. I'd probably even just give you up as a freebie!'

She shut her mouth, but didn't hesitate to stare daggers at her captor, eyes harsh and sparkling, teeth clenched. The kind of fury she displayed was undercut, however, by her nudity and the submissive note of her collar, chain leash leading from a clip at the front to Sander's hand. It was the work of but a moment for him to jerk it, the sudden movement choking her and simultaneously putting her off balance, sending the once graceful master thief into a stumbling coughing fit. 

'Come along, ladies. There's some things we need to get straight around here.'

****************

As promised, all doors had been open to Sander upon approach to the Chrysanthemum Guild's premises. Within the confines of Selestene Fiori's reach was truly impressive, and the three of them had been ushered within the labyrinthine compound almost immediately, the girls following in Sander's wake as they descended into the depths of the place. 

The occasional interesting sight plucked at their attentions, through some open door or down some side corridor in a flash of movement suggestive of some far greater, perverse scenario just beyond their chosen path. A whip cracked down through the sliver of a room visible through a partly ajar door, impacting on an equally visible pair of buttocks, close to the floor at the terminus of an arched back. A chain of women, leashed together, walked single file down the hallway Sander didn't head down at a split in the path. The temptation to stop and watch was almost overwhelming at some points to him, but there was business to be done, and he wasn't to be delayed.

This was fortunate for the girls, as the trepidation mounting on their features at each new distraction was entirely too obvious. 

Eventually they reached a larger set of doors at the end of a corridor, denuded of alternate pathways and ringed with security devices, some of which Sander recognized, and some he could only guess at. It was rare to find a security system beyond his knowledge, after all the Hackett family had been producing such technology for generations, and Sander wasn't eager to find out what functions these mysterious machines performed; if he didn't know what it did, it couldn't be good. 

The doors opened at his touch, and he knew from experience that even this simple act carried with it myriad scans and mechanical processes behind the scenes, all performed within the scant few seconds it took him to reach out. The technology behind this place was actually a little frightening, when one considered the things it was being applied to. 

Dulcimer sat behind the door, cross legged in the middle of the floor, her simple white dress arrayed around her in creaseless perfection. Behind her was a curved wall, upon which a number of doors fanned out, ironclad and covered with the same crawling vines of surveillance devices that covered the door that had just opened. 

'Ah, you've arrived,' The alien spoke, in her strange internal voice, getting to her feet as she caught sight- in a weirdly non-literal sense, given her lack of eyes- of Sander. 'So happy you didn't keep me waiting for long. Everything is set up, just as you asked, Sander. Leave the girl to me, and I'll contact you once I've found something worth using.'

'Straight to business as always,' Sander nodded. 'That's what I like about you, Heskelyn. You know what you're looking for, yes? It's not, you know, hard to guess at, given what this whole trip was all about, but you get it, right?'

'I do. Hand me the leash, Sander.'

'Okay, okay,' He shrugged, and held out Christina's leash. If he had been paying attention to the brunette at all, he would have seen the gradual, tectonic build up of anger beneath the surface of her, shifting in flits and spurts across her features and down her body, vented in the occasional clenched fist, tight muscle or downturned mouth. When Dulcimer took hold of the leash it could not be borne any longer, and with a stamp of her foot it exploded out of Christina in a painfully cultured exclamation.

'I am not going with this alien!' She scowled, both fists spontaneously clenching into fists fit for fighting. 

'Oh, you're adorable,' The alien said, slowly reeling the leash in with surprising strength, dragging Christina along inch by inch without any seeming undue strain. 'You really are. But come along, Miss de Souza. We have much work to do, and it won't get done if we sit here arguing about doing it.'

Christina began to speak again, uttered the first syllable of some protest or another, but Dulcimer's alien hand brushing across her forehead put a stop to that. The Dullahan's fingers moved in drifting, aimless patterns to begin with, feeling through the air until she made the scantest contact with the brunette's skin. It suddenly gained some new direction that, seemingly, hadn't been present before, her palm eclipsing Christina's forehead, fingers gripping in such a way as to hold on, even as the thief jerked in surprise, and fell silent. 

Christina's eyes unfocused, her muscles unwound, her body went slack. All at once, the fight went out of her, as well as seemingly everything else. Carefully, always maintaining her contact with the woman, Dulcimer guided Christina down to the floor, where she sat cross legged, limbs moving with robotic precision. 

'Alright, I have her,' Dulcimer sent, taking her own place on the floor beside Christina, her arm bridging the space between the two of them. 'She's not going anywhere now. She's... elsewhere. I'll let you know where, exactly, once I've had a good peek around her head. But everything is fine here now, you go ahead and do what you need to do, Sander. This might take a while.'

'Thanks for the help, Dulsie,' Sander nodded and turned on his heel, tugging Amy's leash over his shoulder to lead her back out the way they had come. 'It's a busy day, and only half done, so I'm off. Give me a call when you're done.'

'Oh, I will,' She replied, a note of eagerness in her voice. As Sander began to walk away, she turned to fully face Christina, leaning in with a sense of impending discovery, 'Okay Lady de Souza, let's see what you have for me...'

*****************

Sirens blared in the distance, emergency lights daubing the walls and road in blinking, brilliant blue and red. The sounds of conversation, muffled by distance and the sheer number of voices on display, drifted into the mouth of the alleyway, and into her ears. 

She grinned, but mostly, Christina just listened to the pounding of her heart. 

This was what it was all about, the sort of moment she lived for. The chill of the night air leaching through her clothes, blood singing through her veins, and a black bag slung over her shoulder, laden with ill-gotten valuables. If she was caught with it, that would be it, and the police milled about just beyond the rim of the alley, traversing the entrance of her latest... business venture- in this case the home of some obscenely rich art collector or another- as she waited. Every second she lingered there increased the risk that she would be caught, gave those men in uniform another chance to stray down the road some, to catch sight of her and give chase. Her entire life could be ruined, by the moments she spent here basking.

It was the greatest feeling in the world. 

'Hi.'

The word had been spoken in a low, quiet voice, but it cracked through Christina's calm like nothing else could, ringing through her little personal world like a bell. It drowned out even the sirens, the chattering of law enforcement, drowning out the world. She was supposed to be alone.

Christina's eyes automatically went to the street, darted out into the open, in a desperate search for the interloper, the cop who had found her, anyone from which she could flee. She found nothing. The rush of movement didn't stop, she whirled, a curtain of dark hair following in her wake as she spun. Well trained eyes took in the whole of the alley, catching individual details even in the rapidity of her motion; an open window there, a darkened doorway here...

And a man, standing half in shadow toward the other end of the alley, looking right at her. 

'Best be quiet, love,' His voice was hushed, and tinged with a definite working class accent. 'Lots of hubbub out there, and I spy a girl in black hefting a satchel like that? I have to think they're here for you. Don't want to make much noise if that's so, eh?'

'Yes, I-' She began, eyes scanning for some way past the man, some sign that if she ran she wouldn't be stopped. 

'Stay where you are now, love,' The stranger's hands rose in an almost conciliatory fashion, but his eyes betrayed no hint of concern. Quite the contrary; in reality he wore an expression that was all too familiar to Christina, that look one gets when the other person in the room- or alley, as the case may be- has been caught dead to rights, and both parties know it. 

In short, it was the expression of one with power. An expression that Christina had been subjected to far too many times in her adult life. 

'Wouldn't take much,' The stranger continued ruminatively, sliding both his hands into his pockets as he strolled forward, as if he had all the time in the world. 'Just a little noise. A raised voice, or the sound of someone getting attacked... Now, how fast d'you think you'd need to be, there?'

'Too fast,' Christina actually felt any warmth that might have been left in her voice leaching out of it. She glared, never taking her eyes off of the interloper as he drew closer, and finally stopped in front of her. He loomed over her despite her own tall frame, and when he reached out with both hands and placed them, palms flat, on her hips, Christina felt herself helplessly shrinking.

'Far too fast,' She said tremulously, a flicker of doubt forming on the first word, only growing stronger, feeding on the situation through subsequent words. Fighting hard to keep what she was feeling from entering her gaze, Christina tilted her head to regard the man head on, challenging him with every fibre of her being. His face remained motionless, as if her defiance merely broke over and around him.

Not that it was ultimately worth much, in any case...

At any rate, her anger merely seemed to amuse him, as such emotions often did, when they were projected at the person in control. Power turned aggression from those without it into comedy, and right now, for more reasons than one, Christina was the best show going. Without fear or hesitation, the man, the stranger, lifted the dark hemline of her shirt up, exposing trembling bare flesh beneath, higher and higher, until the cups of her bra came into view. 

'Consider this the payment you make for... whatever it is you did to get the fuzz over here, love,' The man said quietly, his eyes lowering to regard her body as he made a little ceremony of tugging her breasts out of her underwear, feeling the heft of them in the palm of his hand with not inconsiderable appreciation. As his thumb rounded the curve of one ale pink nipple, made shamefully hard by the chill in the air, he continued, 'When you think about it, it's pretty cheap, especially considering the treatment you'd get in prison...'

A fit of lecherousness spurted across his features, as that thought played itself out in his mind's eye. It seemed to appeal, but he didn't let it distract him; his thoughts rounded back to business almost immediately. 

He placed a hand on top of her head.

'Now you just get down on the ground here, and we'll deal our little business transaction and you can be on your way, love.'

************************

Dullahan couldn't sigh; sighing came with vocal chords, and those came with having a head, which their species did not. But that didn't mean they didn't have the desire to. 

Dulcimer rocked back on her haunches, momentarily breaking contact between herself and Christina. There was something decidedly... mundane, about sifting through Christina's memories, and that was saying something, given that the alien's daily life was so far removed from the single-planet, 21st century society Christina inhabited. To a being living in a community of planets filled with telepathic aliens and time travel, the stuff Christina got up to was little more than the least interesting version of crime that Dulcimer could imagine. 

'Well, that's a good start...' She mused, after a moment. 'But I think we can do better.'

*************

The manor was large, sprawling and immense. It wore its age on its sleeve. 

Overhanging eaves cast long shadows on cracked tiles, long strands of dust hanging from the wooden support beams, visible only if one were to squint. Tall, imposing windows loomed, set into the walls from on high, just begging for a shadowy figure to glower down from the other side of them, but once one looked closely the thin patina of dirt became visible. Shrubs and plants lay sparsely foliaged in their garden beds, knots of grass and weeds protruding from beneath. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 34



Inside fared little better; worn carpets covered dull wooden floors, the halls echoing with a distinct lack of population, empty and hollow in a way that only the passage of years could produce. Like the accumulated soul of the dwelling had been rotted away. 

Christina hated living here, but having only just turned eighteen, her prospects for moving out were somewhat limited. 

Besides, there was also her father to consider, the old man who had watched the de Souza family fortune fade away to nothing in his hands, frittered away on this and that, until there was nothing left but the two of them and his regrets. Despite the hammer he had taken to their name, he was the only other extant de Souza, the one member of her family who hadn't left or died, the only one who had at least attempted to struggle through and support her, even if he hadn't always succeeded. 

Of course, his lack of success in that regard had led to Christina's acquisition of her specific skill set, all but required to keep the family household intact as the years had rolled by. Imagine what old Lord de Souza would say, if he knew that his expensive habits had driven his daughter directly into a life of crime, until the woman that had resulted was equal parts socialite and cat burglar. 

Consider also his dismay at learning that the de Souza name had only aided her in this, as what cache it still had allowed her entry into any number of high society parties and engagements, into the homes of the upper class, where she could walk right past all manner of treasures and valuables, mentally composing her shopping list even as she small talked with the simpletons who often hosted such engagements. 

And as the final blow to the old man's noble sensibilities, imagine what he would think if she had told him that the education that he had paid so much for in her youth, the gymnastics training and athletic extracurriculars that those lovely private schools had provided, had made her body limber and fast, the perfect vessel for the skills and knowledge of theft and infiltration that she had adopted to pay the bills. 

It was more than a tad ironic, Christina reflected as she stared out her bedroom window, that so many factors of her upbringing as a noblewoman had been so conducive to living the life of a hobby criminal. 

Not for the first time, she considered simply expressing this fact to her father, seeing as he had summoned her to see him today. She had to admit, it would be a load off her mind; thief or no, Christina disliked hiding things from people she saw every day. There was always a sense that she was being silently, secretly interrogated, searched for imperfections and signs that would betray her clandestine hobby. The threat of accidentally betraying what she did, no matter how careful she tried to be, rose with every day she spent in close quarters with the man. All it would take was one instance of being accidentally caught sneaking out at night, or to have one of her... acquisitions discovered before she could fence it, and the game would be up. Christina had no idea what she would do, then.

Living a double life was hard.

Still, perhaps today wasn't the day for such a thing. It wasn't every day that her father deliberately requested her presence in his office, after all; that top floor corner room had always been off limits, not just to Christina herself, but even to her mother and sister, when they had been living here. The door had remained steadfastly closed and locked, its dark and polished wooden bulk one of the few expensive items that had persisted in the house even as Lord de Souza had begun selling off the property piece by piece to fund his gambling habits. She had often wondered, in her youth, what it was that the old man was hiding behind it, but she didn't need to wonder any more. 

She knew that it was dreadfully boring; after sneaking through the homes of the rich and famous for a couple of years now, the simple lock on that study door hadn't posed that much of a challenge to her. Nothing but old books and rows of brandy bottles of varying levels of fullness, hidden in a liquor cabinet or, far more shamefully, the top drawer of his desk. If anything, that room had been her father's refuge from the growing disappointment of his family, not the secret hub of hidden plans that she had imagined in her childhood. 

Going to the study was a rarity in itself, but it was practically unheard of for her father to issue additional requests on top of that, but this time, he had done so in language that had been entirely suspicious. 

'I want you to come and see me this afternoon, Christina,' He had said, barely even taking the time to look at her. 'And wear something nice, would you? You're a lady, do attempt to look like one.'

That had been the extent of the conversation, but despite its brevity, its content was totally new ground for Christina. Lord de Souza had never expressed so much as a whit of interest in her appearance in the past, and in general had been able to trust that she could take care of that particular thing on her own. Confusion over his sudden care over how she looked had given way to a kind of irritated, affronted pride, demanding that she truly impress the old man if just for herself. She was a de Souza, after all.

Far more of a de Souza than the stupid old gambler had ever been. She had, at least, done far more to keep the name alive and funded than he. 

And so, she had determined to acquiesce to her father's request, taking the time to scan her wardrobe with an appraising eye, up and down the racks in search of something appropriately ladylike. Eventually she settled on something simple, her favourite black dress with the single shoulder strap. The hem flowed around her as she walked; it was hardly appropriate for her secret little hobby, but it was perfect for this kind of thing, the sorts of social situations that her rank so often thrust her into. Whatever Lord de Souza's eventual plan was, this would at least partially suit it. 

The floorboards gave a series of tortured squeaks as she walked across them, and the stairs positively wailed, the old wood showing its lack of repair and upkeep in its inability to silently take her weight. The banister wobbled threateningly when she took hold of it, causing her to tut in annoyance as it almost caused her to lose her balance, promising herself mentally to steal something valuable enough to pay for some refurbishment here before somebody ended up falling and breaking something. 

The first floor corridor had once been lined with paintings taller than Christina herself, rich, deeply detailed oil works from artists too numerous to name, and too obscure in Christina's body of knowledge to bother with. Now, of course, the walls stood bare, the artwork long ago taken down and sold, the colours and images that had filled Christina's childhood vanishing one by one into the ether, just more grist for her father's mill. The end result was that the hallway rung out with desolation, bare walls and unadorned wood floors stretching on to the door at the terminus of it, nothing but stale air and floating motes of dust separating Christina from it. 

Sighing at the sight of it, she advanced. 

The door creaked as it opened, its weight bearing down on the metal hinge in a way that produced a tortured whine of metal on metal. Inside, the same sort of faded rug that filled the rest of the house stretched nearly from corner to corner, laid out on pitted wooden floorboards, the corners frayed and curled. Old furniture filled the room, bookcases stretching from floor to ceiling at either side wall, with the Lord de Souza's desk situated opposite the door, lit by sunlight filtering in through thin, drawn curtains the colour of dried blood. 

Her father sat behind that very desk, on a chair that very obviously did not match the aesthetic of the heavy wood desk itself. He looked up from a large, leather bound book as she entered, giving his daughter a look that was as close to a smile as he ever got. 

In truth, it looked more like a sneer. 

'Ah, Christina! Good, good,' Lord de Souza nodded, as though her compliance in coming here was some obvious facet of the universe, a component of reality that he had simply been waiting to complete itself. 'Come in, my girl, come in. We have big news to discuss, big news indeed. I've been planning for a long while, and it's finally time to get you involved.'

'Alright,' Christina said, unable to keep a dubious note out of her voice. She let herself sit down opposite the old man, hands folded in her lap in a manner befitting the kind of lady her father expected her to be. Little did he know that just last night those very same hands had cupped handful after handful of jewellery from someone else's dresser, some upper class twit whose name she hadn't even bothered to learn. She let that thought put the smallest suggestion of a smile on her face, a secret glow of pleasure at knowing something so sumptuous coming with it. 'What can I do for you?'

'Christina, I don't need to tell you that the de Souza family fortunes have been a tad on the wane in recent years, I'm sure,' Lord de Souza answered, and Christina had to suppress a bark of harsh, ironic laughter at the words. The de Souza family, in all the generations of it that Christina had known, had always tended toward this sort of genteel understatement, but when discussing this particular topic her father's insistence on sticking to the style of his forebears was particularly ridiculous. 

The truth was far more harsh, filled as it was with foreclosures and debt collections and fire sales, and to cover it with such soft language was almost offensive, in Christina's mind. 

'Yes,' She said, after a lengthy, rather frosty pause. 'Yes, I think that is something you definitely could say, father.'

'Well, it's a situation I've been moved to attempt to rectify,' Her father's gruff yet cultured accent didn't do anything to help the spectacular offense of the sentence itself. Rectifying the problem? Where was all this years ago, when all this could have been stopped well before it had become as big an issue as it now was? 'After all, it wouldn't do for me to allow such lean times to continue, without providing for my daughter into her adulthood. You are, of course, a de Souza. You should be living like one.'

The bitter irony of it all was nearly enough to make Christina grind her teeth, but she managed to maintain her composure as her father stood from his chair and began to pace from side to side, keeping his desk resolutely between himself and his daughter. 

'Of course, there is also the future of the family to take into account, and I don't think that the de Souza name is an insignificant topic in the least, don't you agree?' He continued, barely ever allowing his eyes to drift over the woman he was talking to. They remained locked ahead of him as he paced, only turning Christina's way for a scant second at a time, 'We can hardly be expected to get back on the rise if we don't concern ourselves with such things, after all. Indeed, one might even consider it paramount, and-'

'Father, you're rambling again,' Christina cut in, as gently as she could bear. That was the thing about talking to Lord de Souza; his lack of self awareness provoked the most extreme frustration, but his noble bearing and personality made acting on that frustration near impossible, without coming across as the bad guy in the situation. As such, Christina added, 'Not that I don't enjoy your digressions generally.'

Lord de Souza levelled at her a long, flat stare. There was no malice in it, merely a sense of reshuffling, as if her father was running through his plan for this conversation in his head and altering it to fit her request to get to the point. When he spoke again, the words came out notably quieter than his usual speaking voice.

'Christina my girl, are you familiar with the Blake family?' He asked, and in an instant memories crystallized in Christina's mind, a momentary flush of satisfaction running through her.

So that was the name of the family she had robbed last night! Yes!

'I... am, yes. Vaguely,' Christina nodded, forcing herself not to grin as she ran through the events of last night's... activities in her mind's eye. 'Don't ask me to cite a family tree or anything, though.'

'No, no, of course not,' Lord de Souza said, waving a hand dismissively. 'The reason I ask is rather more immediate, I'm afraid. Regardless of how comprehensive your knowledge of them, the pertinent fact at hand is that the Blakes are the current owners of the Horizon group, a not inconsiderably large conglomerate of media and printing outlets.'

The tenor of the conversation hadn't changed, but Christina had begun to get an inkling of its true purpose. Nervousness began to fill her from the ground up, slowly robbing her of her composure. One leg began to twitch restlessly, as she kept her eyes firmly on her father. 

'The news is, dear Christina, around my relevant social circles, is that they are interested in gaining access to a noble title for themselves, now that their youngest son has reached adulthood...'

Ah, yes. There it is. How unexpected. 

'So much so that they were more than happy to discuss the matter with me, once I explained to the family's patriarch that the de Souza line has quite the long and storied history. Their young- and might I add, available- son seemed rather interested, as well.'

'Father-'

'He's visiting this afternoon, Christina,' Lord de Souza finally took the time to look his daughter full in the eye. 'Jon Blake. Net worth, something like twenty million. He wants to meet you, and I want him to meet you.'

'Father!'

'Your family requires your aid, Lady de Souza. Surely you won't abandon us now, will you?' 

'I...' Christina paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. 'Just a meeting, right? You haven't arranged any other surprises for me down the line, have you?'

'A meeting with a potential suitor, my dear,' Lord de Souza nodded. 'Perfectly suitable for a woman of the de Souza line. Almost expected, one might say; you bear the same responsibility to choose an appropriate mate to continue our bloodline that I did before you, Christina.'

The word "responsibility" rankled, but Christina didn't show it. Her place in the de Souza family hadn't provided her any advantage worth anything much, but it had taken from her time and again, forcing her to fight to keep it cohesive time and again; the idea that she had any responsibility to it beyond that was deeply offensive. Her lineage just took and took, and now she supposed that it was going to take just a little more.

Still, she supposed it was just a little meeting. Nothing too taxing, no matter how obnoxious this Blake character turned out to be. 

'Alright,' She said, shrugging helplessly. 'I'll do it. But just a meeting, father. No expectations, no designs or plans, just a little time together to see what he's like. I may be a de Souza Lady, but I'm also a de Souza Lady, and you know how insistent we can be.'

'That I do, my dear,' The slightest of curves crested Lord de Souza's stone-faced mouth, the closest she could ever get him to a true smile. 'Thank you for that.'

And so it went. Christina sat and listened as her father described the young man she had been arranged to meet, absorbing only the most basic of details, while letting the social detritus of his breeding and the nature of his inherited wealth slough off of her like water off a duck's back. She didn't need that; she was meeting a person, not a portfolio. 

She left her father knowing that her gentleman caller's appearance was nigh, and that she had very little time to prepare herself, physically if not mentally, for her meeting with him. With that thought constantly at the back of her mind, Christina hurried back to her room, intent on at least giving herself one last check before she had to be social. Dashing back down the stairs, without even a care for the groaning, shaking wood, she double-timed it to her door, and stopped in her tracks once she had opened it.

'Oh, hello there. You must be Lady de Souza.'

'I am, at that,' Christina barely skipped a beat, responding coolly to the man she had discovered in her bedroom. 'And you are either Jon Blake, or in an awfully large amount of trouble.' 

'The former, if you please,' The man said, and that being the case, Christina allowed herself a quick scan, to get an impression of him. He was young, perhaps a few years older than Christina herself, and tall with it. Christina herself was hardly a short woman, but Jon couldn't help but look down even on her, his cool blue eyes regarding her with... what was the best word? Arrogance was too negative, but confidence was too friendly; perhaps some combination of the two, some middle ground that Christina lacked the words to describe? 

At any rate, it set her off balance almost immediately. 

He stepped forward, absently pushing his silver-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans, he looked the picture of old money, argyle-patterned youth. 

'Apologies for just coming in, but I do this rather a lot,' His accent was high English, silver tongued and caressing every syllable with a maximum of care. 'The suitor thing, I mean. My family keeps arranging these little meet and greets, I see so many little heiresses and socialites and do the same little social dances over and over... it gets boring, I'm sure you can see. So, I thought I'd just cut right to the chase, since it's all going to end up the same way, regardless.' 

Christina found herself slightly behind the curve on this conversation, as Blake outpaced her immediately and spoke with such smooth, unerring momentum that it was impossible for her to catch up, but her mind did seize upon one question in particular and cling there, demanding with every moment that she ask it.

'And what way do you think this is going, if I may ask?' She said finally, bowing to her own curiosity on the issue. Blake continued to get closer, and as she spoke he gently took her hand and guided her into her own room, closing the door behind it and, with a note of finality, locking it. The click of the lock sliding out resounded around the empty silence of the manor.

'Oh, come now,' He scoffed. 'I know you're young, but you've been in the same social circles I have, I've seen you around. Surely you understand how these things go, behind the scenes, the reality unspoken by the fine, proper ladies and gentlemen we interact with. But being that we're here, doing what we're doing, I think we can abandon euphemisms, don't you?'

He took a step toward the centre of the room, then another, the sunlight dappling his chest through the window, shallow pools of shadow tracing through it. Christina remained resolutely by the door, a growing defensive instinct blooming in her chest. 

'It's really an easy deal to understand, once you drop the indirect language and desperately genteel couching,' Blake continued, with a shrug. 'We're both just pieces in a game being played by our families, looking to make a connection. Your family has social cache but no money, mine has money in abundance but positively aches for social status like yours. So I get paraded around in front of a lot of mid-to-low ranked heiresses with noble titles, girls whose claim to fame is being the great-great-granddaughter of some prince's second cousin and not anything particularly compelling that they've done themselves, all for the purpose of paying them to get respect feigned at me for attaching myself like a leech to someone else's dubious merit. I'm sure you can imagine such a procession of doldrums gets tiresome. If you're a smart girl I'm sure you feel much the same, and are simply thrust into the same situation I am, rather than actually believing this nonsense.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 34



Christina could do nothing but blink; she hadn't been expecting this, though truthfully she didn't know what she had been expecting. If there was one thing the rich and famous could be relied upon for, it was circuitous, endlessly euphemistic language; in short, the total opposite of what Blake had shown her so far. Part of her appreciated the candour. 

'The short version of this conversation is that I've become dreadfully bored with the entire situation, and it irks me that I remain centre stage in my parents' desperate search for familial credibility,' Blake ran a hand through his hair, evidently not finished with his speech. 'In the end, I feel as if cutting to the chase would benefit us both, in that it will allow us to be done with this in an hour or so, rather than a whole day. So: I am in need of a wife. You are, through no fault of your own, a candidate in that, and no doubt subject to the same pressures that I am, in that respect. For my part, I don't care about your title, but I do care about your... skills, if we are to be seeing each other day after day. We have privacy here, and since it's almost impossible to get a true grasp on a person in a single meeting, we might as well at least have some fun, no?'

Again Christina blinked, words stalling on her tongue, as she seemed to be making a habit of as of late. Thankfully, it didn't take her long to recover this time, and she paused just long enough to temper the combination of outrage and curiosity and nervousness that rushed up to meet her at his words. 

'Mister Blake, that sounds an awful lot like an intimation that we have sex, to me,' She said, fixing him with her most placid, in control gaze. 'Which would be, of course, a highly inappropriate proposition to make, all things considered.'

'But also entirely to the point, and... well, enjoyable, if I'm being completely honest,' Blake countered, his confident exterior not cracking in the slightest. Christina could only shake her head and laugh.

'I'm not going to have sex with you, Mister Blake,' She said. 'I didn't even know you were going to be here until a few minutes ago, and I don't generally progress from that state of affairs to... this, within the space of minutes, as a rule. Keeping that in mind, I think you should leave.'

Christina turned to the door, hearing Blake sigh behind her in a manner both loud and overly dramatic. What he said next froze her in her tracks.

'That's an awfully lovely necklace you're wearing, Lady de Souza.'

As surreptitiously as she could, Christina looked down to check her jewellery situation. A gold chain embraced her neck, terminating a tasteful distance from her cleavage with a blue gem, a sapphire, gripped by tendrils of gold, thin and delicate. It was, she knew almost instantly, that it was one of her recent acquisitions, something she had thrown on thoughtlessly, more focused on how it looked than its origin. What else had there been, at that moment? She hadn't known why she was dressing up at the time...

'You know, my sister has a necklace exactly like that,' Blake continued, as Christina's eyes remained affixed to the necklace. 'Which is funny, because hers is unique, custom made and one of a kind. It's coincidental, really it is, that you have one so similar. Truly, one of those strange, small world moments.'

Christina felt her shoulders slump, the offense that had mobilized her so mere moments ago draining out of her, but Blake wasn't finished. 

'Of course, my sister was robbed last night, so she doesn't have her necklace anymore.'

Shit. Shit. 

It was an amateur move; not showing off something you've stolen was only logical, and if she hadn't been occupied with other things Christina was sure she would have paused and rethought her choice in accessories. But there had been too much she hadn't known, too many things on her mind, and in her half-attentive haze she had made a simple mistake. 

The exact same sort of mistakes that get a thief thrown in prison, if they made them out in the world. Why should she assume that her own home wasn't a part of that? 

'I think you understand what I'm saying, Christina,' Blake said eventually. 'You have a lovely new necklace, and a reason, I think, to reconsider my earlier proposition.'

She was beaten. She knew it, deep as her bones. This man had her dead to rights, and she only had herself to blame. Rapidly, Christina's mind cycled through her options, finding none that were terribly appealing; she couldn't send him away, he'd simply inform the police and it would be over. She couldn't challenge him, she had not a leg to stand on. Momentarily the idea of attacking him came to mind, after all she hadn't gotten so good at the burglary game without learning how to defend herself, but she quickly dismissed it; she might be able to make him submit temporarily, but eventually he would leave and it would be over. The only way to properly resolve that solution would be to kill him, and then she would have a whole new, worse problem to deal with. 

'Yes,' She said finally, forcing herself not to tense up. 'I suspect I should be reconsidering now, hmm?'

'Oh yes,' Blake nodded. 'Right now, in fact. For example, in the time it would take for you to cross the room to your bed and sit down. That should be sufficient time to favourably reconsider what I want here, yes?'

'Oh, I rather think so,' Christina etched her words with acid sarcasm, the only defence mechanism she had left, at the end of the day. It only seemed to amuse the man in her bedroom, though, and he watched her as she walked past him, cognizant with every step of his eyes on her ass, the curve all too well displayed in her little black dress. She perched herself daintily on the edge of the bed, batting her eyelashes with deeply sarcastic coquettishness, giving him the kind of smile that bespoke nothing but impending violence. In a better world, that smile would be all too truthful. 

'Ah, look,' Blake said. 'It seems you've come around. How wonderful!'

He followed her at a leisurely pace, hands still in his pockets, strolling across the rug toward her and, just before he reached her, leaning in to place a hand on her knee. The fact that she flinched seemed only to please him. 

'Now, I'm willing to forget your earlier reluctance, Lady de Souza,' He said in a low, yet commanding voice. 'We all have moments like that, nobility or not. But I expect you'll be a good girl for me now, right? After all, you want to make a good impression on your suitor, uniquely positioned as he is to save your family from a lingering dissolution through poverty. Good wives are dutiful in the bedroom, after all, and I'd only want a good wife...'

As he spoke, he had begun to slowly raise the hem of her dress up, over her knees to reveal the creamy, soft flesh of her thighs. Christina didn't bother to look down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of showing her dismay at what he was doing. Nevertheless, she felt him push her hem higher, until he ended up touching her belly, the panties she had chosen on full display. 

Wordlessly, Blake's fingers slipped in between her thighs, not forcefully but with enough insistence to tell Christina not to resist. He pushed completely between them, and, with the same gentle but necessary pressure, began to separate. 

'Good wives spread their legs, my Lady.'

Christina glared, but obeyed. She let her legs split apart, sat still as Blake ran the flat of his palms along that soft, smooth flesh, from knee to hip and back again, his grin growing wider with every moment. Slipping under the fabric of her panties, he parted the purple silk and grazed his knuckles against the sensitive skin beneath, right up against the cleft of her pussy. Christina shivered despite herself; she had never been touched there before, let alone with such daring confidence. 

All at once, those probing fingers became a hook, dragging down her underwear inch by inch until it hung past her knees, held aloft only by the tension of her spread legs. Christina finally allowed herself to look affected by what was happening, hanging her head low, her dark hair making a curtain to obscure her eyes. Anything to keep him from seeing the impact he was making.

He knelt down before her, brushed her raven locks to one side, unconcerned by what she wanted. Cruel blue eyes looked up at her.

'Now, all you need to do for now is sit still, Lady de Souza. That's not a hard request, just sitting there,' He said, voice low. 

With that, he leaned in, one hand on either knee to keep her legs firmly apart. She shivered when he blew a stream of warm air over her clit, and practically bucked when he leaned in yet further and touched the tip of his tongue to it. 

It seemed to be just the signal he was waiting for, as from then on he attacked her pussy with gusto. His mouth locked itself onto her pussy, one hand reaching up to push back on her chest, leveraging her body to a degree that opened up her most sensitive areas more fully to his touch. Christina found herself blushing almost immediately, the creeping, confused heat of shame and sudden stimulation too much of a surprise for her to suppress. She squirmed, but didn't do so with enough range to remove herself from his touch; there wouldn't be much point in trying to escape him now, after all. 

Blake's tongue found her clit and stayed there, licking differing and increasingly complex patterns around that sensitive bundle of nerves. Waves of unwanted pleasure coursed up her hips, marching up her spine with electric intensity, each one as distinct as the motion of the tongue that produced them. 

She was unprepared for it all. She came quickly.

The surge of pleasure carried with it frustration, more than any other emotion; how could she succumb so quickly, so easily, to the ministrations of this little man? She was Lady Christina de Souza! Not some whore, twitching and panting, cumming on a stranger's tongue. As her toes curled and her breath caught in her throat, Christina shivered through a hot wash of shame, groaning despairingly at the back of her throat. 

'Mmm, that's right...' Blake's eyes flicked up to meet hers, where previously they had been absorbed in his oral task, locked on her increasingly wet and aching cunt. 'That's what I wanted to see...'

With one final flick of his tongue to Christina's oversensitive clit, a flick that left her gasping, Blake disengaged and stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The smile he offered her was thin and satisfied, and very nearly moved her to slap him and wipe it off his face. She could barely keep still when he leaned in and dragged the strap of her dress down off of her shoulder, in the process dangerously lowering the top of her dress, very nearly baring her breasts. 

'Just so you know, you aren't special,' He almost growled, his voice so low and lustful that the words came out with a predatory edge. 'I do that to all the girls that get thrown at me. If I do marry, I'll want a sensitive girl, who cums readily. A lot of them let me do that willingly, since oh do they like my money, but you? Well, if you cum that easily when you don't want to, then...'

He trailed off, but only for the moment it took to switch gears from word to deed; moving from sound to action, Blake's lips collided suddenly with Christina's, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth before she could recover from the initial shock. If she was blushing before, Christina's cheeks were positively aflame at this, at the intrusive and alien taste that filled her mouth, that her embarrassment immediately put a name to.

It was her own juices. She was tasting her own forced orgasm on the tongue of the man who had forced it upon her. 

'Oh, my Lady de Souza...' Blake sighed wistfully as he withdrew, catching sight of her furiously blushing cheeks for the first time. 'I am going to enjoy you. Over and over, if I have my way. And I think I will, all things considered...'

Having said that, he finally pulled her dress down completely, Christina's chest bared as the dark cloth crumpled and folded down the generous curves of her breasts. Blake stalked forward, one hand fumbling with the clasp of his belt as the other moved in to grope his target's now bared flesh, pushing her down onto her back in the process. Slipping up between her legs, he let his belt fall slack and his pants slide down his legs, his cock springing to the fore with tumescent enthusiasm.

'Now then, this is a big house,' Blake said, running the tip of his erection up and down her shamefully dripping slit. 'If you should feel the need to scream, moan, or otherwise make noise, I'd say go for it. I'm sure nobody will hear it, and besides, I like my girls loud...'

His palm ended up resting at her collarbone, keeping Christina pinned to the bed as he slowly moved further up, the head of his cock splitting the lips of her pussy and embedding itself further with every second. Closing her eyes, the Lady de Souza turned her head to one side, keeping her legs spread and allowing herself to be fucked by this stranger, her posture as comfortable as she could make it. Tears prickled and dampened her eyelashes, but she resolved herself not to visibly cry; she was a de Souza, even if she was currently at a disadvantage. She would be damned if she was going to show weakness in front of a pervert like this one.

'You're still blushing, my Lady,' Blake spoke, his voice carrying the strain of his exertions, as he fucked her with mounting force, and by the way Christina could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, she could tell that he was rather close, hovering over the top of her. This suspicion was confirmed almost immediately, as she felt the hot, wet pressure of his tongue swirling around her nipple moments later, the sheer surprise of the sensation drawing a tremulous groan from her throat, part despair and part desperate pleasure. Blake continued then, the sound of her voice barely faded from the air, 'What are you thinking of, I wonder? Is it my cock, deep in this wet, tight hole? Or perhaps it's wedding bells you're dreaming of, so I can do this to you every day thereafter?'

'Neither, thank you very much,' Christina snapped, keeping her head resolutely to one side, as though Blake was unworthy of her full attention. In Christina's estimation, this was more or less true, and if it weren't for his rather... imposing position over her at the current moment, she wouldn't be giving him a second glance. 

But, of course, it is rather hard to avoid the gaze of someone who was balls deep inside you. 

'Well, maybe start,' Blake shrugged, giving Christina a particularly deep and forceful thrust, hard enough to make her bounce on the bed, her head almost falling off the side. 'There's no reason you shouldn't get some enjoyment out of this too. After all, it's going to happen. Besides, who knows what information might slip out of me if you don't behave like a good, enthusiastic little potential wife, eh?' 

This got her attention. Christina's eyes snapped up to meet his, diamond hard and furious blue, her lips curling into a snarl that threatened to collapse into a pleasured moan at any moment; even as she reacted, Blake continued screwing her to the bed. 

'You wouldn't!' She exclaimed breathlessly, her fingers clenching little creases in the sheets. 'You can't, not after all this. That wasn't the deal!'

'Try me,' Blake growled. 'I don't care what happens to you until that marriage license is signed, and not a moment before. The fate of Lady de Souza doesn't interest me in the slightest, as I can ruin you and run off to some other little debutante, maybe the little redhead from the Englund family, or the tasty Japanese dish from the Saburatas. You are not, Lady de Souza, so much of a rare quantity that I can't afford to lose you if I want to.'

Christina grit her teeth and bit back a reply, muscles trembling with the strain of... oh, so many things. She was holding back from hitting him, holding back from fucking him, from crying out, disengaging and running away... possibilities stretched out before her, and yet Christina simply forced herself to take none of them. Passivity was all she had, here. But Blake wasn't finished in testing her resolve, on that point. 

'Now, the fate of Lady Blake, on the other hand... That is something I care about,' He grinned, leaned in and nibbled a trail of kisses up her neck and to her ear. 'I couldn't allow anything so vulgar as a conviction for breaking and entering for a Missus Blake, that would tarnish my reputation so. If you think about it, Christina, the little engagement ring I've got in my dresser back home is your only assured method of retaining my silence. So if I were you, my Lady, if I wanted to remain a Lady, I would reach up and make sure the man I'm with is properly entertained at all times. Now, wouldn't I?'

Christina was well aware of the image he wanted her to assume, the role he desired her to play, and surely he must know how it grated on her even to contemplate it. She had spent much of her youth and adulthood straining against the expectations of her nobility, the demure affectations she was supposed to wear in public; independence was far more her speed, but her family's financial straits had put rather more demand on her to be conventionally attractive to her rich potential husbands. One needed a certain degree of social cache and monetary freedom to shirk off the conventions of the society in which one found themselves; being free to do what you wanted, while simultaneously being too poor to, was no fun at all. 

In short, having to grin and bear it while playing a role was a possibility Christina was well acquainted with. Hell, from a certain perspective she had been doing so for a large part of her life, as her true desires had gravitated more to the adventure and stresses of burglary. But she hadn't expected it to rear its head so conspicuously, so soon; she knew she would be courting suitors at some point in her life, but had consigned it to the vagaries of the future, as some unavoidable hurdle to occur sometime in her twenties, not at eighteen. 

A bloom of sudden pride within her almost prevented her from acting entirely, a hot and angry voice in her head demanding that she shove this man off of her and stand on her own two feet, but it was swiftly clamped down. She was, at heart, a pragmatist; resisting now would simply be counterproductive, whereas knuckling under would at least let her plan, and play her cards better in future. She could still come out of this on top, so to speak, so long as she was careful and, above all, patient. 

'Come here then, Mister Blake...' With a small part of herself still hating every moment of this, and not hesitating to remind her of that at length, Christina leaned up and ran her fingers through Blake's thick, dark hair, using her newfound grip to pull him in closer. Suppressing a shudder, she kissed him, allowing him entry into her mouth without the slightest hint of resistance, her hips moving to meet his continuing thrusts in a marked contrast with her previous frigidity. 

'I'll show you what a good wife I can be...'

****************

Dulcimer rocked back on her haunches, clenching and unclenching her hand as though the swell of rage and shame that Christina had associated with this most recent memory had left a physical mark on her skin. 

If grinning were possible for a Dullahan, she would be doing so.

'Okay, that's more like it,' She spoke to nobody in particular, as the brunette remained inured in her past. 'Let's see how deeply that goes.'

To be continued... 



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 35



Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.

So, here we are again, with what is definitely the most requested character addition in the series. One thing I will request, regarding this one, is that you all be patient: she's probably appearing in an unexpected way, but I'm not done revealing things about her yet. By the time we get to chapter forty (which is totally a thing that is happening) you'll know everything about her. Perhaps you might be disappointed with Clara's current depiction, but hold off on voicing that disappointment because believe me, that ain't all. I do listen to your comments and take them into account, especially after the last time I teased this particular introduction. You'll be pleased.

That aside, I do love hearing from you guys, so please do let me know what you think. This has been a long time coming for some of you. Have fun!

***************

The bar was... different, especially in terms of what the woman had come to expect from Selestene. Well dressed patrons milled about the floor, the majority of them human and disinterested in her entrance; she had become accustomed to faces turning to meet every opening door, in search of some possible entertainment incoming. Soothing, calm music piped in from concealed speakers, and arch, refined waitresses strode with purpose from table to table, their slave collars on display above deeply plunging necklines. 

Her companion gently shouldered past her, his eyes scanning the room with stern concentration, from one end to the other, before he relaxed and beckoned over his shoulder without turning, ushering her properly into the bar. She rolled her eyes; the android always executed his duties so self-seriously, it got more than a little ridiculous, when the stakes were as low as they were right now. If the company hadn't enshrined the practice of sending a security detail with every outbound business deal into its standard policy, her companion wouldn't be here at all; this was hardly a dangerous place to be. 

The android's vibrantly magenta hair did little to make his presence here less ridiculous. 

Casting back into her memory, she simultaneously scanned the room for her contact, hoping to catch a face she had only seen in photographs in the crowd. Secretly she wished she had requested a copy of the man's picture, but then, this had been an impromptu job if ever there was one; the summons had only come in a few hours before, and had it not been for the... quality, of the merchandise that had been on offer, she had no doubt that the company would have dismissed the idea of a meeting entirely. Especially one in which one of their agents had been asked for by name.

Yes, that had been a troubling little tidbit of information, the fact that she had been requested personally. She certainly did not know the contact personally, nor had she even seen his face before today, and yet he had taken every effort to stress that it be her that comes, even intimating that the deal would not progress if the company sent anyone else. If she was being frank, she would say that the entire deal seemed absurd, like a prank being played on the company in general, and herself in particular. 

Had the dealer not listed, in mouth-watering detail, the extra-terrestrial rarities and purpose-trained slaves he had to sell, she doubted the company would have reacted at all.

In time she saw him, seated between a pair of women at a booth at the far end of the bar, and it turned out that he had seen her first; his positioning offered him a full view of the bar, and she couldn't imagine that this was anything but deliberate. He regarded her with the solid, appraising gaze of one sizing up an opponent, which in some respect she was; it was her job here to get him to relinquish his product for the lowest possible price, after all. 

Fleecing him completely would be the ideal conclusion...

'There,' She pointed, and her companion promptly set out ahead of her. He reached the table rather quickly and, with both hands planted, palms flat, on its surface, he set about scanning the immediate surrounds for signs of a trap. It was all very... intense; for all the artificial skin and lifelike human features, the android still had a rather limited mindset. The company hadn't needed a skilled raconteur, after all. 

Traversing the room, winding her way past a loose grouping of people and waitresses, she made a point of examining the features of the three people she was here to meet in greater detail. The man who had made the call was as he appeared in his photo: dark hair and a vague suggestion of unkempt deshabille, currently wrapped around a hearty, exhausted looking scowl. The woman to his left was bog standard human stock, though certainly attractive enough to defy that label; blonde and busty, she sat back as though the tension of her partner was none of her concern, though the rise of her shoulders and the fidgeting of her fingers said otherwise. Concealing her unease, then. 

The woman at his right was an entirely different matter. She wore a scowl just like the man, but ultimately seemed more bored than irritated, as though she had better things to do than be here, waiting. Highly obvious muscles sat unwound and relaxed on her frame, but with such obvious utility lurking within them; the android was here to guard her if anything happened, but this woman was the real danger here, she knew it instinctively. The woman's eyes only confirmed her suspicions; hard as they were, they were also mismatched, the strange coloration a strong hint as to her lineage.

The woman was a half-breed. Her capabilities and powers were unknown, and all bets were off.

'Mister Hackett?' She asked, as she arrived at the table. The man continued to regard her, but he nodded curtly and gestured to the seat opposite.

'That I am,' He said, his voice gruff. 'And I know who you are, obviously. Do take a seat, yes? We have business to discuss.'

The android nodded to her, opting to remain standing after so graciously giving her his permission to sit. She slid into the booth, eyeing the two other women before speaking. 

'Aren't you going to introduce your associates? We shouldn't be entering into negotiations with me at such a disadvantage, surely.'

'Yes, I was just getting to that,' The dealer said, placing a hand on the shoulder of the blonde to his left. 'This is Mara, and on my other side is Ren. They're just here to observe, so pay them no mind, in the same way that I'll be ignoring your android there. And of course, you are Clara Oswin Oswald. It's nice to finally meet you.'

A cold chill went down Clara's spine; he had used her name. Not Oswin, the name she went by in public, the name on her employment records and identification and bank statements, but Clara. The name on her birth certificate, the one that her parents had given her. 

The name that too many sets of parents had given her...

She blinked. Inklings like that one weren't uncommon for Clara, tiny thoughts that weren't her own, like silvery threads running through her mind. She'd had them all her life, little recollections of lives she had never lived, and in turn they had made her own life ring somewhat false to her, as though it were merely the most stable and persistent of all her mental visions. 

Of course, those same visions had... called her to the Alaska, to her current job, and in a way, to this very meeting. If she hadn't heeded that first call to board that starliner when it landed at the spaceport in her home town, hadn't succumbed to the wanderlust that had characterized much of her family, she would never have come to be here, sitting before a stranger who knew her name. 

Wondering why, exactly, that was. 

'How is it that you know that, by the way?' She asked. 'We've never met before, yes? I don't remember you, at any rate. Where did you hear that name?'

'Oh, I know more than just that,' The man shrugged, and beside him the two women's expressions shifted slightly, hitching with temporary amusement at the words. 'Quite a bit more, in fact. Possibly even more than you do, though I'd need to investigate that further before I'd make a definite call.'

'When you called earlier you wanted to make a deal with my company,' Suddenly, Clara didn't want to spend any more time than she absolutely needed to here. Things had gotten... kinda creepy. 'You claimed to have possession of a whole laundry list of rare slave types that would sell very well on our cruise lines catering to more specialized fetishes. It was almost suspiciously comprehensive, come to think of it. Like you'd just taken a look at our corporate sources and composed a list of things it looked like we'd want.'

'Yes,' He nodded. One hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a device of silver metal, levelling it at the android before activating it. Clara's companion slumped forward without keeling over, his head bowed as the man continued, 'That's literally what I did, and that's also the lie I told you to get you here.'

Noticing the way she stared at her non-responsive bodyguard, Sander waved a hand dismissively, putting his little machine away.

'Oh, don't worry about him,' He said. 'I just turned him off for a bit. I do have things I want to discuss with you, Oswin, but not in front of prying eyes. This will not be the kind of business deal I promised to you, but I do promise that you'll find this worth your while.'

'Reactivate the robot,' Clara said coldly. 'If you aren't willing to negotiate the deal that was agreed upon prior, then we have nothing further to discuss. The ship we have docked here will remain in dock for a day longer, if you wish to reconsider and continue our actual business deal, then you have until that time to do so. Goodbye.'

He allowed her to stand and leave the booth before he spoke up, and when he did the words were small and soft, but with enough stopping power to lock Clara in place.

'If you board that ship again, you'll die.'

Clara felt herself clam up, the weird sort of shock at how this meeting had progressed jamming the words on her tongue. Eventually she managed to get out, 'Are you threatening me?'

'Not at all. I'm merely observing what the future will be, but I won't have any hand in your death, when it happens,' Again that infuriating shrug, as though he was engaging in little more than small talk, 'Or didn't you even consider the idea that a man you don't know, but who knows you, could be time active?'

A time traveller!

'You're a time traveller?' She said, echoing the little voice in her head, with more than a little natural scepticism thrown in. Such a thing wasn't unheard of, in the whole of the galactic community, but it wasn't common; time active individuals were regarded with equal parts suspicion and reverence, when they opted to reveal themselves as time active at all. Being in the chronological closet, so to speak, seemed to be the norm for them, especially in the shadow of the Time Lords. 

Time Lord!

'Maybe,' He evaded. 'But I have seen your future, Oswin. You board the Alaska, you die. It's just a fact. I can show you, if you like.'

'You can... show me?' Against her better judgment, Clara say back down. 

'Time active surveillance isn't, you know, hard,' Sander produced a small hologram projector from his pocket and set it on the table between them. Running a finger around the ring switch that powered it, a soft blue glow painted itself across all the nearby surfaces, 'If you know what you're doing, and I do. It's one of the few things I do well, actually. If the time-tech community knew I could do it, I have little doubt they'd call me the best there is at it. You might say I have a personal stake in being that way.' 

An insubstantial globe of light pulled itself together, starting from the projection aperture below, but quickly blooming to cover much of the empty space between their faces. Resolution quickly piled on, adding detail after detail until what floated above the table was no longer a sphere of light, but was a solid-looking image, instead. 

It was an image of the Alaska's familiar hull, and it was crashing.

It took Clara a moment to recognize what she was looking at, in its totality. Space was devoid of characteristics in general, notoriously so, and thus the ship itself had little around it to position itself. Only the presence of the curving surface of a planet toward the bottom of the image told her that a crash was, in fact, what was happening. For a good thirty seconds, the Alaska descended- careened, Clara realized, based on the scale of the images she was seeing- toward the planet, a sleeted marble of grey cloud and white landscapes on the distance. It hit the atmosphere with a shudder, as air resistance began to tug at the hull, and when it did, the view changed.

With a rather unprofessional looking camera cut, suddenly the hologram showed a far more familiar view, that of the interior of Clara's own cabin. Coldness began to settle in her stomach in a dense ball, as the probability that what she was seeing was all fake dipped further; every detail of her room was perfect, every item in its place, even the positioning was spot on. Though red emergency lights daubed the room a dim crimson, Clara could even see her employee identification on the little fold out desk, the numbers and personal information on it matching precisely. 

She hadn't brought it here. It had never left the ship, as per company policy, and none of these people had ever boarded the Alaska. As an entertainment manager, it was her job to know things like that, and the onboard biometric scanners logged every entry and disembarkation to aid her in her job. There was simply no way this footage could be doctored, not without the access to her quarters that they couldn't possibly have had. 

She watched, almost spellbound, as a holographic representation of herself raced across the screen, gathering personal effects and important work-related documentation in a flurry of frightened movement. Stupid; the ship was crashing and she was trying to save trinkets rather than herself? 

'Not that it matters,' Sander interjected, as the ship continued to tumble to the earth. 'But the escape pods won't be functioning. It really is the worst case scenario for a crash.'

'How did you get all this?' Clara breathed.

'Shh, you're going to miss the important part,' His eyes glittered through the translucent base of the hologram, glinting a cold blue in the glow.

With a jarring suddenness, the ship seemed to impact the planet, with a screech of tortured metal, filled with too many individual notes to properly separate, and backed by a number of voices rising in panic, far too many of them cutting off suddenly. 

A horrible stillness reigned in the moments after, warning klaxons, audibly damaged, wailing their mechanical wails without response, as somewhere else in the ship things were still breaking, the sounds of the Alaska's ruin echoing up the halls. But nothing moved on the screen, nobody went to the aid of the stricken starliner; Clara was used to seeing her workplace bustling with activity, and its sudden desertion was shocking in its contrast. 

She actually gasped, when she saw herself rise back into frame.

'That's right, you survive the crash,' Sander said, as if taking his cue from her reaction. 'A handful of the crew do too, but it's otherwise as close to a complete population kill as it could be. Lucky for the company, I think, that you hadn't been carrying actual passengers at the time, only newly acquired stock. They won't even send a search vessel looking for you. I know, I've seen it.'

'But if I live through the crash, then-'

'Then you get to meet the occupants of the planet. The Alaska offers such a safe, sanitized view of other worlds, doesn't it? That's the appeal, the company's major selling point... but it's not a true depiction of the worlds beyond the viewing windows, not really.'

Perhaps he had timed his little speech to the events on the footage, because the moment he finished speaking, the metal sound of the ship in distress developed a voice. Many voices, in fact, raised in unison, a chorus of one word, grating through the Alaska, louder and louder.

'Exterminate!'

A sort of shared, genetic memory shudder went through Clara, from the back of her neck to the base of her spine. Daleks. The galaxy had felt their impact, even this far away from the Time War; word travelled, and when the occasional ship drifted by a planet in the sector, invariably devastating whatever life forms happened to inhabit it, the news filled the rest of the galactic community with dread. Even the sound of their voices was enough to make her uneasy. 

It wasn't just her, either. Around the bar, heads had turned toward the sound, some dismissing it out of hand, while others watched on, entranced by this particular piece of horrific cosmic arcana. Clara shifted uncomfortably; this wasn't usually the way she liked to be the centre of attention. 

Not watching the screen wasn't an option, however; eyestalked metal faces trundled into the room, into her room, though these looked... different. Their notoriously uniform appearance had been corrupted by myriad imperfections, scars across their carapaces or huge rents in their suits, the occasional dangling eyestalk or weapon port mangled beyond recognition. Even the Daleks that were functionally whole seemed off somehow, unsteady in their movements or incessantly bumping into walls. 

'You don't get a good sense of time from this, as I've cut out a lot of dead footage from this recording,' Sander cut in here, his voice remarkably calm given what was happening. 'But by now several hours have passed. All the emergency doors had sealed along your section of the ship, where the mechanisms hadn't taken much of the impact and therefore been damaged. You were... lucky, in a sense, to have been at the rear of the Alaska, in that you weren't immediately killed or sealed inside the ruins of the ship, waiting for the Daleks to come for them. You had a chance to escape, though it wouldn't matter if you had. After all, the planet's air had gotten into the oxygen feedback system fairly quickly...'

Clara watched herself, cornered by a wall of broken metal and screeching cyborg aliens, far too many than could reasonably be needed for a single woman, but to Clara that only hinted at just how many Daleks had flooded into her ship, her home. The sight of so many of those weapon-stalks, the origins of such devices burned into her memory due to so much childhood footage of the Time War, pointed right at her, sent a shiver down her spine.

'Now, if this was any normal situation, if these were any normal Daleks, your chances of persisting beyond the next, oh, the next few seconds would be vanishingly small,' He wouldn't stop talking, even as the horrible footage rolled on. His voice seemed to entwine itself with the visuals, a taunting melody backed by the chorus of alien shrieks, 'But then, these aren't normal Daleks, and since you've been breathing the air, it's also not a normal situation. You see, the air on this particular planet is suffused with nanotechnology, beautiful little examples of micro-robotics, under any other circumstances, put to sinister use here. You breathe them in, and the Daleks can see your internal architecture with perfect clarity, and when they saw you, they saw something they liked, Clara Oswin Oswald.'

Another cut, and Clara watched herself being herded through snow, her Dalek captors hovering over the uneven ground, evidently unable to gain traction while land-bound. She was alone, singled out for reasons not readily apparent to her, and despite continued, loud commands to "Proceed!" it was clear she was having difficulty on the icy ground herself. It seemed as natural as anything that her captors didn't care about her difficulties in the slightest, merely commanding further progression whenever her- bare- feet slipped on the sodden, chilled ground. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 35



A building jutted up into the horizon, a splinter of heavy metal stabbing at a grey sky, and it was there that she was being herded. 

'They didn't want anyone else, Oswin,' He stood, and in that moment his eyes were cold stars, floating above the frozen wasteland she travelled across. 'Just you. Just that brilliant little mind of yours, that you wasted working on that ship.' 

If there was any significance to that last statement- and it was too out of place a statement to just be something throwaway- it was lost on Clara, but she didn't have too much time to consider it. Turning the ring on the edge of the projector once again, Sander switched the footage one more time, and what was displayed sucked all other sound out of the bar almost instantly, and replaced it with a desolate, horrified silence that seemed to go on into eternity.

It was the sight of Dalek machinery, carving through human flesh. 

Blades sliced, refined laser scalpels left trails of smoking skin, and blood pooled where it didn't evaporate instantly. Netting of wires and circuitry grasped and held, chemical injectors filled what was left of her body with substances that pulped her at a genetic level, stripping away her very humanity as the cybernetics dragged her mind into a cage of metal and glass. The entire procedure was carried out with a horrible efficiency, the inexorable march of machinery committed to gruesome purposes, pressing and pressing and pressing even as she screamed and struggled and...

... Stopped.

What was left was the same sort of ruinous metal cylinder that populated this world. Just another microbe in the plague of twisted flesh and metal that had swept across the land. 

Tears had sprung to Clara's eyes, but through the haze she saw the turned heads, the silent, deathly grim fascination on the faces of every man and woman in the room, the pale faced hunted looks of people who had felt the impact of the Daleks themselves. The footage had mercifully been paused, but the latest freeze frame hung above the table still, painting the nearby surfaces in the colours of blood and rust. The picture wasn't even particularly distinct; the point of view was too close, the image frozen in the midst of a flurry of motion that left it blurred, more a splotch of colour than something recognizable.

But it said enough. 

'So, when I said that you would die, that turned out to be more symbolic than literal,' For the first time, Sander seemed to inject a little understanding in his voice, even some discomfort at the subject matter; whatever else he was, he was a human being existing in a time and place when the Daleks had become a form of cultural nightmare, a very real bogeyman that could drop out of the sky at any moment and burn your entire world to the ground. It was impossible to maintain a true distance from something like that, 'It will be literal later, once you've served your purpose, but by that point I presume it's more of a blessing than anything...'

Words didn't come to Clara for a very long time; they had been swallowed up by the stark, awful reality placed before her. She watched, as Sander shut down the hologram, the other patrons of the bar getting up to leave one by one, the laid back atmosphere of the bar punctured by what they had seen. By the time a rather angry looking man had emerged from behind the bar and begun making his way toward them, both she and Sander had stood- rather numbly on Clara's part- to leave before they could be forcibly ejected. Nobody liked having their nightly business ruined, after all. 

'My name is Sander Hackett,' He said to her finally, as thoughts once again began percolating in Clara's head. 'And I'm here to offer you a chance to save your life.'

They walked out together onto a cold, cold street, leaving the android bodyguard idling by the table without a second thought. The two women Sander had brought with him to the deal dawdled as they walked, adjusting their pace in a casual manner so they weren't right with Clara and Sander the whole way. Sander himself easily kept up with his target, watching sidelong as she stared off into the middle distance, clearly walking nowhere in particular. 

'All I have to do is not board the Alaska again,' She said, her words short and clipped. 'If that's in the future, then now I can change it.'

No! No, no, no!

She stopped at this, swaying from side to side, one hand flying out to catch herself on a nearby wall. The voice in her head had never shouted before, never sounded quite so... defiantly angry. Worse still, it had never sounded quite so much like her own voice, like it had screamed up from the depths of her own mind, rather than outside of it. The sheer strangeness and vividness of it almost drove her to her knees. 

'Yeah, that's going to be a problem,' Sander said, reaching out to steady her. 'In that it prevents some things that need to happen, from happening. You felt that, didn't you? What was it?'

Clara glanced across at him, saw not a trace of concern or scepticism on his face, merely an inquisitive desire to hear her vocalize something he already suspected to be there. It was the expression of a scientist, examining an experimental subject. 

'It's a... I don't know. Like a thought in my head, but not from my mind,' Clara said unsteadily. 'I've had it my entire life. Even when my parents tried to medicate me when I was little, nothing worked. I just learned to hide it, in time. It was just easier that way.'

'Oh, now that is interesting,' An absent smile tugged at the corners of Sander's mouth. 'Finally, a little data to look at! Some form of metaconscious direction, maybe little more than a protection mechanism for an underlying subconscious drive, to prevent guys like me from screwing things up...'

'What are you talking about?' Clara found herself snapping, as the strange throbbing head rush continued unabated. 

'Lemme try something real quick,' Sander placed himself directly in front of her, levelled his gaze to hers. 'The Doctor.' 

Doctor! Yes!

Just two words, but they clanged through her head like a church bell rolling down a long set of stairs. This time she was slightly better prepared for it though, and the sensation didn't destabilize her in the same way the initial shock had. She ended up staring at Sander, wondering how, exactly, he had figured out how to trigger the voice at all.

'Oh, god, the scientist in me is really loving this,' Sander grinned, as Clara's head spun. 'It's actually some kind of context-sensitive trigger? I've wondered about this for so long, but without a proper specimen all I was doing is guessing, and it's hard to get a specimen when all of them will come into contact with the Doctor at one point or another, and it's so hard to predict... Oh, I could learn so much from you, Clara Oswald.'

'What... What are you doing to me?' Clara felt herself shaking, but tried to remain as stable as possible, entirely unappreciative of Sander's efforts to trigger such a discomforting phenomenon. 

'Confirming something to myself,' Sander replied, waving a hand vaguely. 'But I don't need to do that anymore. You aren't who I was hoping you were, Oswin. That makes this more difficult, and I'll need my machines to explain it to you further. I hope by now I've demonstrated at least that I have some important things to say to you, so that when I ask you to come with me back to my hotel, you don't take it as some overt attempt to get into your pants. Now please, can we take this somewhere more private, so that a productive discussion can be had regarding your life, and how to get it to continue beyond the next few days?'

'Y-yes,' Clara stammered, resisting her immediate urge to walk away. The image of her own flesh being torn apart by ruthless machines stuck in her mind, making it impossible for her to do anything but desperately fight against that possibility with everything she had.

'I'm happy about that,' Sander said. 'Because I'm about to blow your mind, and I would so like to do that in a place where you won't make a scene.'

*************

He led her to a fairly upscale hotel, and yet further up to an apparently reserved whole floor, walking through deserted corridors and past rooms ringing with silence, finally ending up on the balcony, looking out over the city. Itself a small room with sturdy railings separating the building from the open sky beyond, the floor and walls were shod in wood panelling, a large table and chairs seemingly growing from the floor itself, in one continuous piece, like living plant matter set right there in the skyscraper. It was here that Sander sat, offering Clara a seat opposite him. 

The very same holographic projector that had so terrified her before sat between them, now linked wirelessly to Sander's own systems, apparently. 

'You're a smart girl, I know that without having to be told,' He said. 'In fact, I know more than you on that front, owing to your complex temporal nature. So I understand that a lot of this stuff doesn't require much explanation, beyond some very basic assertions, but it's still a lot to take in. You're going to want to sit down, while I explain to you why Clara Oswald needs to board the Alaska tomorrow, whether she knows she's going to die aboard it or not.'

Obediently, Clara sat down, propping up her head on her hands as Sander began fiddling with the controls of the hologram projector. 

'You are not the only Clara Oswald to exist. That's the short version of this conversation. Iterations of you exist all throughout history, all funnelling back to a central point, many years before now. Here, let me show you, since I can see your scepticism already,' Twisting the ring around the base of the projector with one hand, Sander tapped a few commands into a keypad he had brought with him, and suddenly the lens bloomed to life once again. This time it was multiple images, collections of still and videos, focused on a central figure that was at once familiar and strange; it was Clara, clad in clothes from a different time period in each image, acting within a different setting from image to image. 

'Many Claras, from many places and times, all rooted in this Clara Oswald,' Sander flicked his finger through the light, and a single image grew to fill the screen, the same face as all the others, standing inside some kind of spacecraft, wrought in glass and curving metal. 'The progenitor. The original. Clara Prime.'

'I'm starting to feel this whole conversation going off the rails of realism, here,' Clara- whether she was the original or not- narrowed her eyes. 

'You live on a space ship, Clara,' Sander raised an eyebrow. 'In a world full of time travellers and psychics and aliens. Just let me present all my evidence, and then feel free to comment. You're aware of the Time Lords, I assume?'

'I am.'

'But probably not what a Time Lord becomes when he finally dies, for good,' Sander continued. 'Which is fine. Few people do, since the Time Lords are notoriously secretive about anything that might make them look weak. The truth is, their deaths provide unprecedented access to their timelines, from birth to death, with an attendant opportunity to alter that timeline. It's a vulnerability that they, quite understandably, keep quiet. But the original Clara Oswald travelled with a Time Lord for a while. She knows.'

More footage began to play, in the same sort of setting as Sander's first image of "original" Clara had been in, only darker, more roughshod. A spiralling coil of light rose from the floor, and it was into this pillar of luminescence that the original Clara stepped, disappearing completely.

'And this is the moment that led to your creation,' Sander said. 'To prevent a malicious alien from destroying her Time Lord friend at every point along his timeline, Clara Prime followed him into the Doctor's timeline, splitting her identity across every point of divergence from how it had originally been, to live and die multiple lives to keep the Doctor's life in check. Self sacrifice becomes the central theme of her lives, and can you guess who you're going to meet on that planet the Alaska crashes on?'

'So, you're saying that I need to be present on the Alaska when it crashes so I can meet some alien I've never met before... presumably as a Dalek, to take part in some conflict I've never committed to?' The voice in Clara's head was a constant internal pressure now, building, demanding that she agree, commanding submission to what was happening. 

'Yes. Basically. To do otherwise would be... disastrous. I hold no love for the Time Lords, and this one specifically has raised my ire something fierce, but I can't deny his importance in numerous critical points in history,' Sander said, bitterness etching his voice. 'He goes, we all go, Clara. Not just us, countless other worlds and people and cultures, dispersed all throughout time and space.'

'And I just die? Me, here, this Oswin Oswald, who has a life and a family of her own, I die for that?' Clara couldn't help the crack in her voice as she spoke, even as the pressure in her mind had filled almost all of the available space, making it almost impossible to focus on what Sander was saying.

'That is what the force in your head is telling you to do, isn't it?' Sander said. 'It knows. That's the original you, the template upon which you were based, trying to order you around. You're not her, of course. Not anymore; you've lived a whole life that she was never party to, met people and done things she never has... You are Oswin Oswald, not her. You don't think there's a reason you should die for her battle.'

'That's right.'

'And I quite agree,' Sander said. 'That's why I came to you. There's no reason that every iteration of Clara Oswald needs to be in their respective places, you're one of the ones I can save, being that you exist contiguously with myself. Like I said before, I'm here to offer you a deal to get out of this whole mess unscathed.'

'A deal? So you want something in return, this isn't something you're doing out of the goodness of your heart?' Clara asked, tilting her head as suspicion mounted in her.

'Coming to you like this is out of the goodness of my heart,' Sander responded without a second thought. 'I didn't have to do that. I have ways of just making you do what I want, with minimal effort on my part. Instead, I've come to you to offer you a choice, a way out you can take of your own accord. So you're no longer a plaything of powers beyond your control. I would have thought such a thing would appeal to you.'

Clara spent a moment searching the man's face, and what she found was surprisingly... honest. There was little attempt to sugar coat what was happening, no sense that what he was doing was charitable present in his features. He was, from head to toe, merely offering a business deal that just happened to include a human life as the stakes. It wasn't particularly uncommon for Selestene, trades like that, but the fact that he saw no need to hide away the grim reality of what was on offer was comforting, in some strange sense; there seemed less chance of being trapped in some game he was playing away from her sight. Everything she needed to know was right there in front of her. 

'I'm listening,' Clara said finally, the words coming out something like a sigh, the image of her own destroyed body still sticking in her mind. 'Tell me what you're thinking.'

'I have a way to get you out of this,' Sander began, leaning in closer to her over the table. 'A way to keep you safe while still completing the mission you were created to complete. We can mull over the implications of who and what you are later on, I personally don't think there's much to feel bad over there but you might, the point is that for right now you have a time sensitive issue that needs to be dealt with. You don't have very long to decide, and whatever you do decide is going to be permanent. If you walk away from this meeting don't try coming back tomorrow morning before your flight, asking me for another chance. I won't give it, and if there's one thing that what I've shown you should make very clear, it's that I have plenty of Clara Oswalds to choose from, if I'm desperate for one of you.'

'Okay, okay, I understand,' Clara said, waving her hands. 'What is it that you want from me?'

Sander's eyes flicked up to meet hers for a moment, cool and contemplative, before he stood up and walked back inside, gesturing to Clara to remain in place for a moment. It only took him a minute to return, and when he did he strode over to the table and placed an object in front of her, staring at her as though challenging her to react to it. 

It was a highly familiar thing. 

'In the next few days, I'm going to be doing something big in this city, something I've been planning for a while now. Let's call it an enterprise, and leave it at that for now,' Sander said, fingering the cool metallic curve of the collar he had put down in front of her. None of the usual mind-altering devices seemed to be present within it, but these days it was hard to tell, what with nanotechnology becoming smaller and more prevalent every day. Hiding malicious tech inside any object one cared to think of was simple work, lately, 'I'll need someone with your specific set of skills to help me with that. Entertainment manager on a slave cruise, that's an interesting job for one of you to have. Of course, the Alaska was the ship that crashed on the asylum planet, you aren't to blame for what it was made for. You didn't have a choice, but as it happens it's just the kind of job I need to be hiring from. I'd call it fortuitous, but luck doesn't really matter. One of you had to have a job like this, just by sheer probability.'

'Is that for me?' Clara prodded the collar as it lay on the table cautiously, seemingly worried that it might explode. 'My job involves organizing slaves, not being one.'

'Which is exactly what I need,' Sander said smoothly. 'But not a manager that can move around freely. You'll live among my slaves, performing many of the same duties they do, and report back to me on their activities, quelling rebellion and so on. They've escaped recently, you see, and I'm not eager for a repeat of that to begin with, especially not with what I'm planning in mind.' 

'And what are you planning, exactly?' Clara asked, eyeing the collar with a curiously pounding heart. 

'You won't know that until after you're in the collar, Clara,' Sander shot her a sharp-edged grin. 'I don't intend to take any chances on that. Call it good business sense. But you'll like it, you can trust me on that. You won't be mistreated.'

'I'm... not that kind of girl, Sander...'

'Oh, don't try that on me. You Oswalds, you always try this chaste stuff, but the truth is...' As he trailed off, Sander reached out to manipulate the projector again. Clara found herself blushing almost instantly, as the image changed once again, and Sander spoke, 'The truth is this.'

He hadn't just been taking footage of her... other lives, on other planets, people that were at once her and not her. It was easy for Clara not to take ownership over acts she had never committed, regardless of how identical to her the other selves had been. But what she was seeing now, in the interior of the Alaska, was her own actions, her own life aboard that ship, as debauched as it had turned out, laid bare for her eyes, and the gaze of this stranger who seemed to know more about her than she did herself. 

Employees on the Alaska were given free reign over the less valuable onboard stock during their time off. Clara had been uncomfortable with that concept initially; she had never been in contact with a real slave before, let alone a pleasure slave, and their constant presence within the walls of the ship had begun as something unnerving, especially during the long haul flights that had left them all bottled up together for weeks or months at a time. She had had to force herself to treat them the way the company had officially treated them; as stock, rather than people. In time, it had all become easier.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 35



And then, on that first lonely night, when she had found herself in the presence of that handsome free-floating young man in the collar, and had tugged him by that same collar back to her room. She had taken her pleasure from him furtively, secretively, almost guiltily in some ways, but the act had left its mark on her. The idea of those two bodies, hers and his, sucking and fucking for her sake alone, had wrapped itself around her brain and settled in. 

The next night, she had taken the same man back to her room. The night after that, she... sampled a different man. By the third night, she had worked up enough courage to try a woman, and from there it was a short trip to some of the more humanoid alien species, with their attendant abilities for maximizing sexual pleasure. The ship had gotten to her. That was the week that she had truly become the Alaska's entertainment manager. 

All of those nights were present in the images Sander was currently showing her. Her own body lay taut and naked and sweating, in excruciating detail, for all to see. 

'Come on, tell me you didn't like that,' Sander said, enlarging and deleting each image in turn, by hand. Clara watched as he took each piece of her own personal pornography in hand, turned it this way and that, before tossing it aside, where it faded. She blushed, as he continued, 'Tell me you don't have a sexual side that gets off on this now. Whatever the reason you got on board the Alaska, you got to love it. All that power, all that consequence free sex, whenever you wanted it... I'm not offering you the same position you had then, but I am offering you the favoured position among my little retinue. You'll have privileges the others don't, aside from, you know, remaining alive. Try to tell me the idea doesn't intrigue...'

'I... I just...' Clara struggled for words, the twin pressures of her current dilemma and the creeping arousal of seeing herself in all those lovely positions jamming her thoughts as they proceeded to her mouth. She felt herself getting wet despite herself, as image after image spilled out of the projector in front of her, 'I suppose I don't really have a choice. It's this or... death.'

The final word came out after a lengthy pause, and when it did come, it did so quietly, almost strangled by the creeping dread that had settled, gargoyle-like, on her mind since the bar. Despite all the things currently going through her mind, Clara hung her head, fingers knotting in her lap as the cold reality of that word smacked into her at full force. 

'Oh, come now,' Sander said. 'I don't want you thinking this deal of life for slavery is unfair to you or anything!'

This was, of course, largely the truth; if Clara thought she was being penned into a decision- which she was- she would be less likely to be truthful with the parts of her job Sander needed her for, rendering her into little more than another member of his harem; good for a little fun, surely, but possessed of so very much missed potential. There was so much more she could be doing for him, things he simply could not properly manage himself without paying a great deal of time and money. Expertise was a hard thing to come by. 

'Tell you what,' Inventing desperately, Sander continued. 'Just so you don't feel cheated, I'll give you a chance to win what you want, before you even put on that collar. Stand up.'

Curiosity crested the mix of emotions that masked Clara's face. Sliding out of her chair, she stood before Sander, the tall man easily dwarfing her. When he moved closer, she actually flinched, her back hitting the table.

'I'm listening, Sander,' She said, some small spasm of her usual confidence causing her to speak again. 'Or should that be Master, now?'

'Not just yet,' A smile tugged at the edges of Sander's mouth. 'Like I said, you'll put your collar on after this bit. A free woman, struggling for her rights... Better than struggling for your life, right?'

'What are you proposing?'

'I'm proposing that you get up on this table, right here and right now,' Sander growled. 'And we have sex. It's going to happen when you're wearing that collar anyway, you might as well freely choose it and potentially get something out of it. I'll try to show you that I'm a far better prospect than those collared eunuchs you're used to. If I am, if I can get you to cum, then I'll have you just like I have all my other slaves. A little fucktoy on the end of my leash, entertainment manager or no.'

Clara swallowed, feeling her heart pounding wildly in her chest, practically rebounding off of her ribcage. She couldn't deny that some small, nervous part of her was intrigued by the prospect, contrary though it was to her previous bedroom role aboard the Alaska. Those collared men and woman and aliens had been in close quarters with her- in more senses of the word than the obvious- for weeks at a time, of course she had wondered what it was like to be in their position. Their reactions to their predicament had varied almost as much as the forms of the slaves themselves; some had disliked it, others had been ambivalent, their positions as chattel accomplishing some other objective that remained unspoken. 

And then there had been those who enjoyed where they were.

They had... stood out, even though there were only ever a few of them at a time. Mostly, they had been higher-value slaves, stock that moved among the higher paying decks of the starliner, above both Clara's head and her pay grade. But occasionally she ventured above, or one of those select slaves had ventured down for some gathering or celebration on the main deck, and Clara had found herself endlessly fascinated with the way they acted and thought. Those who could find their happiness in slavery, for whom nudity and a collar were a preferred form of dress, who could revel in the embarrassed blush, or turn a downcast eye into an art form. Their strange, small kind of contentment was beautiful; they had found their niche, and seemed perfectly well assured lingering there. 

Clara had never even considered herself in that same position, but it seemed that the position had come to her. Wielding a knife. 

'And if you disappoint me?' Clara asked, a tremor in her voice and a dazed sort of interest in her mind. 

'Then you just get the job,' Sander shrugged nonchalantly, as though the possibility weren't even worth considering. 'You'll still have to wear the collar, for safety's sake, but I won't touch you. Unless you want me to, that is, but considering that I'd have to "disappoint" you just to get to that point, I don't think that'd be an issue.'

'So basically you've constructed another scenario on the fly in order to get inside me?' Clara cocked an eyebrow. 'What kind of a choice is that?'

'There was never any choice,' Sander shook his head. 'The Alaska is always going to crash, a Dalek is always going to meet the Doctor there... We're all just dancing to the future's tune, you're smart for taking the best way out possible. But let's not pretend this is some miraculous escape you're making, because it's not. You're playing out of one person's hands and into another's. I want something, and you're going to give it to me, because I'm giving you a more attractive offer, that's still not as attractive as just walking away from the whole shebang, which you will not do.'

Sander took a step forward now, his eyes filled with iron sturdy confidence; she was in his hall, just about to get entangled in his strings, and there was nothing she could do about it. The glimmer of hope at the end of the path he was presenting was... slim, and surrounded by far too many unknowns for Clara's liking, but it was the only spot of hope there was to be had. Nobody had ever claimed that life was perfectly fair. 

'So enough dancing around the point, Oswin,' He continued. 'I'm offering you a little gamble because it amuses me, and you'd be a fool not to take it while it's on the table. Instead of saying something else, I suggest that the next thing you do is get on the table yourself, roll down the front of your dress, and show me something to keep me interested before I just collar you myself and drag you right through to my bedroom to do this the easy way, because I do not need to offer you the hard way, for me.'

Their meeting was always going here, Clara knew. This was the culmination of Sander's entire plan, it was written all over his face. His impatience might have been sudden, but it wasn't spontaneous; it was a meticulously planned additional pressure, pushing her to commit to her choice right now, before her fears and rational mind could second guess what was happening. 

Without taking her eyes off of him, Clara pushed the hologram projector to one side, and lifted herself onto the rim of the table, falling for his plan hook, line and sinker. Blushing furiously, unable to meet his gaze, she reached up and rolled the neckline of her dress down over the generous curve of her breasts, feeling cool air on her nipples for the first time. 

'It's always pleasant, seeing something like this in person after watching it on screens for so long,' Sander said, and Clara realized for the first time that he must have been watching her from afar for at least a little while to get all that prurient footage of her. She felt her shoulders tighten with the simple stress of how weird all this was, a sensation that only intensified as the man reached out to palm her breast, the warmth of his skin such a contrast to the general coolness of the atmosphere here. 

Clara forced herself to sit still and allow Sander to explore her body, feeling the hot, vital weight of her breasts in his hands, stroking and tugging at her nipples hard enough to make her breath hitch in her throat, as close to a gasp as she would allow herself to get. When he leaned down to run his tongue around one such pink bud, Clara let out a moan, her head tipping back before she even knew what she was doing. 

Sander looked up at her from below, glaring in wordless, amused acknowledgement of what had just happened. Suddenly, deliberately, his teeth closed around her nipple, giving a sharp and shocking tug, and Clara gasped, her back arching to follow the pressure of his mouth, muscles taut and rippling beneath her skin. 

'I think this might be a bit of a foregone conclusion, then,' Sander said, giving Clara one last lick that sent a shudder through her, before standing. 'But enough with this. Let's get down to business.'

Clara knew what this meant, of course, and she shot Sander a challenging look before she moved, as though the idea of being beaten in this little game wasn't even a possibility. Her thighs separated, legs spreading wide as she leaned back on her hands, putting her weight fully onto the table as she opened herself as invitingly as she dared. When Sander chuckled and shook his head, she tilted hers.

'No, not like that,' He said, taking a step closer. 'Bend over it.'

This elicited a muted tremor from Clara's body, as the comprehensive knowledge Sander had of her sexual preferences became clearer by the moment. Of course he knew that was her favourite position, just as he probably had a whole arsenal of other facts about her bedroom habits, gleaned, indeed, hard won, from the sort of extensive perusal of a naked woman that leads the voyeur in question to make a clip show of her, to display when they finally met. Still, she obeyed, climbing down from the table and, with a flourish, bending over it.

The bare skin of her breasts rubbed against the cool, and surprisingly soft, wood, her heart pounding in her chest, so hard she almost felt it tapping against the surface with each beat. She felt her legs trembling, hoped it wasn't so visible as to betray the strange mix of trepidation and arousal she felt, as the illicit nature of what was happening coursed through her veins like a secret fantasy, long held. 

Sander was smiling that confident smile as he approached her, Clara could tell, she could almost feel his power beaming down against her back. She flinched, as his hand caressed the outside of her thigh, over the fabric of her skirt, travelling up the obvious route to her hips. Her back arched, pushing herself back into him, encouraging him to continue as, despite the overwhelming strangeness of her day thus far, Clara found herself getting swept along with what was happening.

A stray thought lodged in her mind for a moment, as she wondered how she was going to explain how she had spent her time today to the company when she got back. If she got back, she reminded herself, the strange unmoored feeling of having her future take a sharp right turn into complete and utter mystery only adding to the powerlessness of her impending slavery. 

Then Sander bunched her skirt up over her hips, and every other thought disintegrated immediately. When he didn't pull down her panties, but rather tore them off her body, it was all she could do to retain any mental coherency at all.

'Oh, this is exactly the kind of fun thing I needed,' Sander said, and Clara heard the distinct, metallic sound of a zipper. 'You have no idea, I've been running around for weeks at a time, organizing all my plans here... would you believe, it's possible to get bored of strip clubs? It is, if you spend hours a day in there, discussing business. In the shadow of that, you're just perfect. A little bit of fun, all on my lonesome, no collars, no surety of success... just you, me, and the open air.' 

Clara gasped again, the sound trailing off into a lengthy, pleasurable sound, as the heat of Sander's cock, erect and pulsing in time with the beat of his heart, rubbed up against her newly bared pussy. Her thighs squeezed together around it, as she felt the tip push in between her lips, sliding just an inch into her. No doubt he felt her wetness on him now, the stickiness of an arousal that had been brewing for some time, given a new intensity by adrenaline.

She had been confronted with her own impending death today, and her base response was to get horny. What an indictment of her character...

Oh god, what did it matter? Everything had changed today, over the course of just a few hours, at most. She needed to keep up with what her new normal would be, not cling to the old. There was nothing but regrets in looking to the past. What did the future hold?

Who knew? But at the moment, it felt kinda fun... 

Whatever was happening back there, Sander didn't seem to want to commit to plunging inside her, content to rub the length of his rod over her sex, the heat and hardness of it a constant source of stimulation that never went anywhere toward satisfaction. The tip of his erection hit her clit at the apex of every aimless motion, and that sensitive little bud pulsed pleasure throughout her entire being every time. Everything in her arched toward him, that solid wall of power that he had become in her mind, the moment he had left her sight. 

He could do whatever he wanted to her, now...

'One moment, Clara,' His voice was low and almost affectionate, in a way, and the use of her birth name rather than her nickname only added to that effect. He stepped away, but not far, and Clara could still hear him moving, just beyond the field of her vision; she felt no need to turn her head and look, to break the spell that had taken hold of her by acknowledging whatever mundane preparation was taking place just a little to her left. When he came back, she felt almost... fulfilled, in a way she couldn't properly verbalize. 

'Now then...' Sander nudged her legs further apart, forcing her to rely entirely on the table to stay upright. Again, she felt the sharp edged confidence of his grin beating down on her, the source of his confidence becoming clearer as he repositioned himself, the tip of his cock moving up from between her legs. One hand came to rest on her backside, spreading her cheeks and, with a slight amount of downward pressure, causing her to bend her knees, lowering herself to...

'Oh, shit...' Clara mumbled to herself, screwing her eyes shut as Sander's erection rose to press against the reflexive tightness of her ass. There was a slickness to his erection that hadn't been there before, and Clara saw fit to assume that what he had been doing was liberally applying lube. His oiled hardness was appreciated, as he added pressure moment by moment, until he eventually popped in completely. Clara moaned, low in her throat. 

If she thought about it rationally, this wasn't a totally surprising development; Sander had clearly spent at least a little time... researching her, and any amount of time observing her sexual habits- especially once she had gotten employed aboard the Alaska and had truly let her hair down- would have revealed her secret preference for this particular hole. It certainly would have come up more than a few times in the rotation, when Clara had been alone with a slave she had deemed suitably tight-lipped not to spill the beans; it was generally expected that slaves would not discuss one clients predilection with another, but it was also common knowledge that such conversations between slaves were commonplace, almost as professional courtesy as much as it was idle gossip. They knew, but little cared to spread it beyond the ears of the other chattel; it was a trade fact, as the swing of a hammer was to a mechanic, and little else. 

Sander was perhaps the first free man to know this aspect of her; Clara had never mustered the courage to tell any of her boyfriends and girlfriends, never been sure enough to request it from them. They wouldn't have minded, she was sure of that, since she never dated anyone so closed off that they would not experiment, but the act itself was so deeply personal to her, so... intimate in the pain it brought, the shimmering chord of discomfort under the melody of pleasure, that she kept her predilection for it close to her chest. 

If it could hurt her, she needed to be sure before she asked for it. 

The slaves had never counted, though; Clara knew they would stop if she told them to, disobedience unfathomable under the mechanistic pressures of submission ingrained into them by their time in service. They would stop if she told them, they would run into a wall if she told them. The crew of the Alaska, along with its passengers and backers, were trained to look upon the slave contingent as tools, stock, rather than people. They were sexual aids; she was making use of a sex toy, not getting properly fucked in the ass.

But with Sander, there was the cock of a definitely free man working its way into her, inch by oiled inch, enflaming her senses more with every second that passed by. 

'Oh, that's... ngghhh... not playing fair...' Clara's cheeks were practically glowing crimson, as the majority of the blood in her body seemed to rush to aid her in blushing. She could feel her juices dripping down her thighs, arousal working overtime as Sander's balls finally met her backside.

'Nobody said I had to fuck your cunt, Oswin,' Sander's voice dripped with satisfaction, in more ways than one. The sound of it was a low thrum, barely holding back from a growl, the sound of a man on the cusp of letting go entirely and allowing his instincts to dictate his every move. 

It was a powerful thing, the want in his voice. It sent a shiver down Clara's spine. He traced the palm of his hand up her back, following the trail her motion had taken, eventually ending up at the back of her neck, fingers clamped roughly around it, holding her down. Pinning her down, as his cock began to move in her, following the rolling of his hips. 

'Yes, that is... t-true...' Clara said, struggling to keep her words flowing steadily and smoothly, in the wake of what was happening to her. As she began her next sentence Sander thrust back into her, and the sheer sensation of his thudding back inside her took her breath away and robbed her of all cogency. She picked it up again only after a lengthy period of struggle and fucking, 'You got me there.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 35



She wasn't going to be able to help herself. This was a fact, as impending a part of her future as the collar that lay beside her on the tabletop, always within view when she turned her head to face the balcony's railing. The view there was what she gravitated to, as Sander began to pick up his pace, the open, false sky of the arcology, the city she had spent so much time in, that she would be seeing from the vantage point of a slave. How different would Selestene, even the world as a whole, look while wearing a collar and leash?

How would it look, with Sander's- her new Master's- cum dripping down her thighs? 

Oh yes, that was going to happen. She wasn't going to win Sander's challenge, she wasn't going to be able to pick and choose what happened to her, because she could already feel the distant rumbling of her brewing orgasm. The sting of his fucking, stretching her ass without mercy or hesitation around his cock, brought the strange, fulminating pleasure of it into sharp relief, as though her body were protesting against what she was feeling. His thrusts were hard now, lube and insistence opening her up to the point where he could fuck her at his own pace, and Clara forced herself to relax and allow him in.

She wasn't going to win, so she could at least maximize her own enjoyment. 

One hand remaining at her neck, tangled in her dark hair, Sander's free hand slipped down, stealthily, between her legs. One, two, three fingers pushed inside her all at once, and Clara would have arched up off of the table if Sander hadn't been stronger, capable of holding her down with ease. She groaned into the wood, as he stretched another of her holes, as deeply as he could, as quickly as he could. 

The position didn't lend itself to the best leverage, but that didn't matter; Clara as barely able to keep her composure just from having a cock in her ass, and the addition of finger fucking was a challenge she simply was not able to surmount. She simply let herself go limp, moaning freely, constantly, and incoherently, as Sander took her. If anything, he picked up speed at this, fucking her harder, invading her pussy to a chorus of wet sounds, curling his fingers against sensitive sots that Clara didn't even know she had. 

Her body coiled tighter and tighter, muscles alternately screaming with the strain and simply being taut, as another wave of pleasure-pain swept up her from below. And then...

Clara came. Clara shrieked. The city listened. 

There was no barrier to soften or dampen the sound, just open air to carry her paroxysms of ecstasy out into the arcology, into the ears of countless anonymous listeners, no doubt immediately pricked up at the sound of a woman in orgasm. And Clara couldn't muster the mental energy to care, as her entire body was seized with rapturous tension; all that mattered was the moment, the moment she fell, her last few seconds as a free woman draining away into the ether as she shook, and clenched, and came. 

The collar was in her future, coming closer every second, and here she was, drenching Sander's fingers with her juices, the stains of her arousal. Her pussy adhered tightly to his probing fingers, as he continued to fuck her in both holes simultaneously, forcing her to ride out every wave, every spasm of desperate desire that gripped her. She went blind to the world around her, blind to everything except the man behind her, stretching her out, pushing so deeply into the very core of her. She shook with it, trembled in climax, her nipples scraping against the smooth, now warm wood below them, adding yet another texture to the varied experience of quaking through a loss, cumming into slavery, losing her freedom with every wave. 

The storm of sensation released her with one last jerk, echoes of the former feeling ringing through her hips. Clara simply lay there, shaking, panting for breath while allowing herself to recover. Her muscles ached the pleasant ache of satisfying exertion, her legs untrustworthy, potentially unable to hold her weight if she tried to move. This had all happened so suddenly, her orgasm had come upon her so much more quickly than it usually had... but then, was that so surprising? 

Sander had been watching her specifically, he had seen how she behaved in the bedroom. Was it that unlikely that he would have learned her tells, the things he could do to drive her wild? She had met the man as a product of a meticulously plotted Hobson's Choice, been dragged along in his wake ever since, so the idea that he might have planned even the sexual elements of today wasn't so farfetched. The idea that she ever had a chance against him? 

Now that was farfetched. 

Sander moved away from her then, his fingers slipping out of her as his cock retracted, eventually popping out of her ass entirely. Clara heard him moving, tracked him by the sound as he slipped around the table, eventually ending up ahead of her. As she looked up at him, he placed his hands, palms flat, on the tabletop, and smiled.

'I win, Oswin,' He said, and it struck her in that moment that he hadn't even finished himself, hadn't cum, he'd just... gotten her off, and pulled out right after. Had this even been a sexual act for him? Or had it just been a way for him to win over her once more, a way for her to walk right into slavery herself, rather than being roped into it, inch by inch, by pressures she couldn't control.

'You... you did,' Clara panted, still not fully in possession of her breath. She felt so very naked, suddenly, so exposed in the city that had just heard her getting tricked and fucked by... whatever Sander turned out to be. He practically loomed over her, and in that moment she thought there was nothing outside of his reach, no person beyond his power. He had brought her into this so easily...

'That's "you did, Master,"' He growled, and one hand rose, only to fall upon the collar that lay between them now. 'Now sit still, Oswin...'

She could only crane her neck and allow it to happen; what other option did she have? Sander slipped the cool metal around her throat, and with a click that happened almost too abruptly, too rapidly, the collar had closed around her throat.

'Command: Do not attempt to remove your collar, or to otherwise allow it to be removed, until otherwise commanded by an authorized user,' Sander said, the words droning out as though they had been well practiced. He stepped away from her at that point, and Clara knew full well that the words were seeping into her mind and, more importantly, into the software that lurked at the heart of the Command Collar, which recorded each and every detail, committing them to a memory far longer and more accurate than her own. 

There was no escape...

'Welcome to the crew, Oswin,' Sander said, helping her unsteadily back to her feet. 'I'll be discussing your role in things to come rather soon, but for the moment, I have better things to do, and you're coming with me.'

'Where are we going?' Clara asked, adding after an uncomfortable pause. 'Master?'

'I need to go and pick up your fellow slaves,' He replied. 'Want to see what happens, if you disobey me?'

*************

To be continued...