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.