tagCelebritiesDoctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 09

Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 09

byKurokami©

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.'

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