Doctor Who: Amy, Captured Ch. 06

'No!'

'Yeah? Well, watch this,' Sander plunged forward, his cock in her balls-deep. At the same time, he twitched his fingers inside her cunt, his thumb brushing against her clit. Immediately, Amy arched her back and moaned, long and loud. Her fingers dug into the sheets and her pussy spasmed around his hand as she came, orgasm slamming into her like a bomb blast, shattering her ability to do anything except moan like a whore and grind herself on Sander's cock.

Mara tipped back her head and laughed boisterously at the display. She grabbed Amy's still trembling head and forced her to look back over her shoulder into Sander's eyes.

'Admit it, slut. You just came for him, with his cock buried in your ass and his fingers fucking that sweet pussy of yours. You ground up on him like a two-dollar whore. Say it!'

Amy's eyes clenched shut, tears squeezed out of the corners, 'I came for you, Master,' She said in a soft, timid voice. 'I came, with your cock in my ass and your fingers in my pussy. I...' She sobbed, 'I came like a whore just for you...'

'Wonderful,' Mara sighed wistfully. 'Fill her up, stud.'

'As if you even needed to say so,' Sander groaned, thrusting in as deeply as possible and unloading his balls deep into Amy's anal cavity. She sobbed softly at this final violation, mind roiling with shame and arousal, horrified at what she had just said, but knowing at the very core of her being that it was the truth, and that she hadn't been coerced overmuch into saying it.

'Woo!' Sander whooped, withdrawing from Amy. 'That was fun!'

'You have fun, sweet thing?' Mara patted Amy's head, suddenly all sweetness and light.

Amy just moaned indistinctly. She was done. There was nothing left. Just the edge of exhaustion, and the tiny aftershocks of lust. She couldn't go on; any more and they would snap her in two.

'I guess you're up, Mara,' Sander clapped his hands together and stepped away from the beautiful, limp captive.

'That's right...' Mara said, pursing her lips. 'But I have to admit, I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do...'

'Oh, come on!' Sander laughed, staring at her. 'You? You're at a loss? You don't have some weird little fucking thing stored up for a rainy day?'

'That's not what I said, Sander,' Mara said coldly. 'The expression is "spoiled for choice," I think.'

Amy shuddered, not daring even to move, horrified that they would even think of continuing. Her mind was a grey-edged void of exhaustion; she couldn't even imagine what new torments Mara would devise for her, and how her tender, aching body would react.

'Well, let's just do the first thing that comes to mind,' Sander shrugged.

Mara paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing, 'Black rose.'

Sander tilted his head to one side in confusion, but his face lit up when he finally understood, 'Ah. Got it. Good choice. I'd sort of forgotten where we were for a minute.'

'Well, then it's a good thing you have me,' Mara rolled her eyes and smiled. 'We need clothes. Amy, not so much.'

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

Amy's eyes shifted uncomfortably around the room, her hands attempting unsuccessfully to cover her naked flesh from the hungry gazes of the strangers around her. Mara skipped ahead as they entered a large, open area on the lower levels of Shangri-La. This was one of the many "party floors" that dominated the lower recreational floors; essentially huge centres of distilled, committed hedonism for all the guests to enjoy.

'I'll get us hooked up!' Mara sang over her shoulder as she flounced her way through the crowd, attracting her own share of attention in a low cut tank-top and denim shorts. However, the crowd seemed to part and shift aside for the luminous presence of the blonde woman, as though it could sense that something was different about her; another hint would have been that she was easily the loudest thing in a room full of loud drunks.

She drummed on the bar energetically as Amy shrunk back from the rest of the world, feeling so completely vulnerable that grabbing hold of Sander actually seemed like a good idea. He looked down in surprise when he felt her take hold of his arm, but felt that only an idiot would refuse the naked woman currently pressing herself against him.

He had to admit, though; there were a lot of terrifying people in this place. Sander felt like he needed some support himself. He stood in the corner as unobtrusively as possible, enjoying Amy's warmth on his arm; she seemed to be clinging to him for safety while simultaneously pulling away from him in fear- Sander had a mental image of these two disparate motions splitting her in two. Mara had allowed her to shower before they left, removing the sweat of her previous exertions and leaving her skin damp and glistening attractively in the low, warm light. Mara attracted Sander's attention with a wave, then motioned to a table in the opposite corner. Sander pulled Amy along.

As they crossed the floor, Amy was brought within arm's length of a number of anonymous degenerates, a number of them took it upon themselves to reach out and touch her. Hands cupped her breasts, stroked down her ass and thighs, fingers slipped into her pussy. She gasped, shrinking away from the intrusive appendages as Sander dragged her forward, apparently unaware of her molestation. A heavyset man reached up and pinched Amy's nipple, causing her to scream and Sander to look over his shoulder, grinning.

Mara was sitting at the polished table with a bemused expression when they approached, watching as the few patrons nearest Amy reached out to steal one last stroke or fondle of her soft, curvaceous flesh. The frustration in her eyes was wonderful; Mara could see that the only thing stopping the redhead from slapping their hands away was the steely glint of the Command Collar around her neck, a small black rose pendant twisting gently from a clip above her throat.

That pendant was key to Mara's plans for tonight, and she could see a number of people around her changing their own plans in the light of the unassuming piece of jewellery too. It was a signal, an invitation to come and negotiate with her for a little time with Amy. Slave cultures... She loved that they existed.

'That get your motor running, Amy?' Mara smirked. 'All those strange hands on you?'

'No,' Amy said coldly, wrapping her arms around her to cover her chest.

'Hmm, that's interesting,' Mara mused. 'It would have gotten me going. Sit down.' She pointed to a chair opposite her. Sander recognized the gambit immediately, and he laughed, dropping heavily onto a seat against the wall. Amy followed suit, sitting down in a chair that seemed to have been pulled from some other table; it was black, where all the others were white. Her ass wriggled unconsciously against the cool surface beneath her, and her back curved defensively away from the chair as she attempted feebly to cover her nudity.

Sander rolled his eyes and leaned his head on one arm, 'Just sit normally, Amy...' He sighed, eyes drooping. 'I don't want to have to order you to do it, but I will. And there will be punishment.'

Amy gave a weary growl as her hands fell limply to her sides, her eyes staring daggers at Sander as the eyes of many others stared at her now uncovered curves.

'I went ahead and ordered for us all,' Mara shrugged and sank lower in her seat. 'I figured I knew what you all need.' Her eyes shifted to regard the approaching figure of a scantily clad serving girl, probably the slave of some powerful business partner invested in the Shangri-La tower. She made an approving little cluck in the back of her throat as the soft-curved beauty grew closer and placed a trio of glasses onto the table. Each one contained a large shot of a milky brown liquid that swirled enticingly in the frosted glass.

'Good choice,' Sander said shortly, taking a long swig from his glass.

'Okay, so what kind of sick aphrodisiac is in this stuff?' Amy spat venomously. 'I'm gonna drink this and turn into some sex-crazed fucktoy, am I?'

'We're all drinking it, Amy,' Sander said, and continued to do so, almost demonstratively.

'That isn't incredibly compelling,' Amy retorted, poking suspiciously at her glass. 'You've done a lot of things that I find pretty fucking despicable, Sander.' Her nose curled in disgust.

'Oh, just drink it, naked Amy!' Mara snapped. 'And get that sour look off your pretty little face. You look much better smiling... or biting your lip and moaning. Now, which of those sounds better to you right now?' The threat was palpable in the air.

Amy dropped her gaze to the table, one hand reaching out to tentatively grip the glass. She was utterly exhausted; the basic level of resistance that she had offered thus far had drained the last of her strength. She felt hollow, like everything good or true about her had been shovelled out of her and replaced with... well, sweat and cum and whatever else it was that Sander and Mara were pumping into her.

'So what is this stuff, really?' Amy sighed, perfectly aware that they could lie to her and she would still drink it.

'Here they call it Rocket Fuel,' Mara said, taking a sip with a long, drawn-out, hissing sigh. 'I've always just called it double-coffee, but no matter the name, one thing is clear: you don't need to sleep for a day with a cup of this stuff under your belt.'

'Oh, so that's what you're planning!' Amy snarled. 'Going to fuck me all night, are we?'

'Command: Drink the fucking stuff,' Mara said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 'We can get to the fucking later, don't you think? You should feel lucky that we've been so good to you, Amy. Sander's so gentle, and both of us let you cum. Aren't many masters in here that do both of those consistently.'

Amy's hand raised the glass to her lips, allowing the cool, sweet liquid slide down her throat. Once again, the future surprised her: the stuff tasted like coffee, but the warmth and light that spread further through her wrecked body with every sip was a pleasant shock. Amy felt energy coursing through her, wrapping around her like a warm hug and bringing back something of herself that she had lost during the interminable fucking earlier in the day. She felt like... Herself, again, instead of just a shadow or toy. She felt like a legitimate person once more.

She felt the wonderful, validating rage flow back into her like magma, filling her up, making her skin burn with humiliation. Making her eyes spark into wildfire aggression and hate. Finally, acquiescence would be her state of body again, not her state of mind. God, it felt good to be angry with her captors again!

'See? It's working already,' Mara guffawed, seeing the fight flow back into her slave. 'I like that fire in you, Amy! It makes breaking you down so much more... fun,' She smiled her shark's smile, canine teeth glinting.

'Fuck you, you crazy blonde bitch!' Amy hissed, opting for direct aggression to reassert that she was, in fact, back in business.

Mara tilted her head to one side, eyes positively incandescent with delight, 'Ha! Yes, she's back alright! I was getting a little worried that we'd totally shattered her a while ago. Hey, look, Sander! Amy's back!'

'I see that,' Sander said vaguely, eyes roaming speculatively over Amy's body. She stared icily back at him, determined not to give him even an inch. Revitalized, Sander was thinking of some very specific inches that he could give to Amy. Repeatedly.

It was easy to see that the energy drink had done Amy a world of good, as it had for all three of them. In Amy, the change was particularly noticeable; she was lit from within by the old internal fire that had filled her spirit during the early days they had spent together. Her skin glowed with it, pristine and creamy white, with the old exhausted bloodlessness a thing of the past. Her hair, damp and wavy, fell strategically across her chest, covering her breasts and leaving Sander a view of her cleavage. Her lips pouted, blowing him a sarcastic, challenging kiss.

Mara leaned across the table and slid her fingers under the leather collar that Sander had replaced on Amy's neck. She tugged forward, jerking Amy's head down lower and breaking her eye contact with Sander. She pulled Amy close, smothering her in a deep kiss that Amy actively fought against, pressing her lips closed against the intrusion of Mara's tongue.

'That's right... Fight me, Amy,' Mara breathed in her ear. 'You fight... That's good. But remember who's going to win, alright?'

Mara's hand slid down Amy's bare skin, between her beasts, over her belly, and between her legs. She slid a finger inside her, deeply within her, and curled it. The message was clear: "I own you."

'Tell me what you're thinking, Amy,' Mara whispered, slowly pushing her finger in and out of Amy.

'I'm thinking of how nice it would be to hit you, Mara,' Amy said, ice tinkling off every syllable.' I'd really rather like that... Uh!' She moaned as Mara twisted her finger over a spot that she knew from experience was especially sensitive.

'Well... It's been a while since I've been the sub... No, better not. Wouldn't want you to get ideas above your status, would we?' Mara removed her hand from between Amy's legs, drawing her fingernails sharply across the soft skin of her inner thigh as she did so. Amy responded with a quick intake of breath.

There was a panel on this table, the options displayed on which serving as a clear reminder as to the purpose of this place, assuming the myriad downcast and submissive eyes of the slaves in various states of undress weren't enough of a clue. These were meeting places for the rich and debauched. And Amy was sitting in a seat specifically designed for the slaves among the crowd.

Mara pressed a square on the panel, making it light up, making Amy yelp out loud, making Sander jump in his seat. Making her giggle at the chain reaction.

'What! What's wrong now?' Sander said, looking around him for the source of the disturbance.

'Look down!' Mara laughed roughly, watching as Amy squirmed around on her chair. Sander slid his searching gaze under the table, his eyes widening as he found what he was looking for.

'Oh... That's just... That's not... hygienic...' He said witheringly, shaking his head. 'I didn't know they could do that...'

'Ours can't!' Mara giggled girlishly. 'She's the one in the slave chair, not us.'

Amy's chair had morphed, growing a pair of phallic appendages that plunged into Amy's pussy and ass, effectively pinning her to the chair.

'That is not what that technology was made for,' Sander observed; it had originally been developed for self-repairing combat androids- his company controlled a large slice of that market. 'I hope they wash those at the end of the day...'

'It does other things too,' Mara shrugged, hitting another button that set off a familiar sounding buzzing from Amy's lap, making her shiver and grind her hips against the seat. 'That, for instance.'

'Stop it, Mara!' Amy demanded, the muscles in her belly growing taut as she tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

'No,' Mara said flatly. 'Why on earth should I, slave?'

Try as she might, Amy couldn't suppress the sensations of the dual assault on her nether-regions. The dildos had a fluid life of their own, undulating and pulsing inside her in such a way that they sought out the places in her that would make her squeal and licked across them every few seconds. Her vagina clamped down on the intruding device as she gritted her teeth against the rising, pressurized ecstasy. She couldn't keep the moans, squeals, whimpers and gasps from bubbling up from her constricted throat, each one increasing the impromptu audience, some of the braver ones even leaving their own table to gather around to get a better look.

Amy's hands lashed out, slamming down on the table hard enough to make the now empty glasses jump and clatter loudly. She wanted, more than anything, to fight back, to resist. To wrap her hands around Mara's neck and show her who the real bitch was. But to do so would be to incur the show stopping force of the collar, and the clinical retribution of her cruel masters. To do so would be pointless, and so she would endure this latest torture. She would endure, and always hope that when the Doctor finally tracked her down, he would reconsider his pacifist stance, even if it was an exception just for her.

By this point, many of the assembled audience had noticed the black rose pendant Amy was sporting, and had begun hushed negotiations with Mara for a little private time with the redheaded slave. Sander tried to break into the conversation, protesting that he was the one bankrolling this little operation, but cognizant that, money or no, Mara was the one who had always ran this particular show.

Mara had apparently reached some kind of equilibrium with a group of three lean, tall gentlemen dressed in expensive suits when a fourth broke into the conversation, grinning confidently and exuding an aura of self-assuredness that set Sander's teeth on edge. He hated it when people were confident in themselves; it was a trait that always slid over into obnoxiousness, it could never stay at appropriate levels.

'So, what's your price, little lady?' The confident fourth said, leaning down to kiss Mara's hand. What an asshole.

'There's no price, guy,' Mara said, tilting her head in a mixture of confusion and amusement. 'Just be gentle with her. No permanent damage or bruising. Mouth and pussy only, not the ass, and nothing overly gross, understand?'

The fourth glanced at the squirming, gasping Amy, and shook his head, 'Her? No. She's appealing, certainly, but I was talking about you.' He pointed at Mara, 'How much for you?'

Mara opened her mouth to speak, but Sander stood, noticing that she didn't look nearly angry enough for what this newcomer had just implied, 'Listen, dude. She's not for sale. She's with me.'

The fourth looked over his shoulder at Sander, and snorted derisively, 'Who's talking to you, buddy? I believe I was speaking to the woman.'

Sander placed a hand on the table, 'Yes. And now you're talking to me. I admit, it's not a situation I'm happy about either, and I hope it will be over soon, but here we are. So let's get this over with quickly so you can go about doing... whatever it is you do, and I can do something interesting with my time. Mara is not for sale. Go away.'

'Sander-' Mara began.

'You're a talky little man, aren't you?' The fourth said, drawing himself up to his full height. 'But I'm still not talking to you. Just let me finish my negotiations so that the two of us,' He laid a hand possessively on Mara's shoulder, 'can be on our way.'

'Oh, wait,' Mara said. 'You really do think I'm a prostitute? Alright, Sander: Get him.'

'Please,' The fourth scoffed. 'Dressed like that around here? You're just begging for it, girl. I'll bet you-'

The newcomer went over sideways as Sander's fist collided with his jaw with a satisfyingly meaty sound. 'Just because someone is dressed like a whore doesn't mean she literally is one!' Sander growled, slamming his fist into his opposite palm.

'Oh, how romantic!' Mara deadpanned.

'You know what I mean!' Sander huffed with a shrug.

'Do I?' Mara said, throwing her hands wide. 'Do you know what you mean?'

'Sort of!' Sander exclaimed, turning to his prostrate foe, 'Now, go away. You're beginning to bore me.'

The fourth picked himself up and backed off, complaining the whole way. Mara stood and walked around the table to hug Sander.

'My hero!' She exclaimed in a shrill, girlish voice, acid sarcasm practically dripping from every word. She kissed him on the cheek, then grabbed him by the collar and began leading him away.

'Hey, what's up?' Sander asked, looking back at Amy as she was lifted from the chair and placed on her back on the now cleared table.