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

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'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.