Doctor Who: Panic Moon- A New Story

'Well, Pond?' The Time Lord growled, his voice thrumming, twanging through her nervous system like the breaking of a violin string. 'Have you figured it out? What I want?'

She groaned, breath fluttering in her throat as he thrust into her, never giving her even a moment of respite from the competing signals of pleasure and pain. Her lips quivered as she worked them, forcing herself to summon up enough mental energy to form words, 'N-no... Doctor... More.... I can't... I'm almost...' She trailed off into another shuddering moan.

'I want you to -- Pond,' His voice sounded so different, deeper somehow, stronger. Was it just in her mind, or was he really...? 'I want to hear you -- you want it, --'

There wasn't even a second of hesitation; she broke immediately, breath shuddering in her throat as she inhaled the necessary air to prostrate herself before him, 'Doctor, I need it... Please, please, please! I need more! I'm so --- Ah!'

She broke down, tears falling from her eyes, a symmetrical counterpoint to the moisture dripping down her thighs. But he was giving her what she wanted, what she -- The glowing green tip of his sonic screwdriver touched to her hips... Oh god, what setting was --It tore through her, raced up her spine, lit every nerve in her body on fire. Her muscles had drawn tight as bowstrings, back arching almost painfully as she pressed her hips back desperately against his pummelling thrusts, as if somehow he could make even -- safe for her. She felt as though she was falling apart, she could feel it in her --

Gasping for air, yet never getting enough, vision blurred with tears, face and chest bright red and covered in a sheen of sweat, Amy Pond came. Her orgasm wrapped around her, left her nearly insensate, unable to feel anything else, floating away... Borne aloft on the Time Lord's version of fun. Her pleasure seemed to peak, entwining with the pain creeping up from her behind, each feeling enhancing the other, spinning together through her entire frame, long legs uselessly thrashing below her, occasionally kicking out at the Doctor's instep to little effect. Long after the initial shock of ecstasy had run its course, the muscles of her pussy continued to contract on nothing, in a way that quickly stopped being satisfying and started --; a deep abiding ache that... Oh, fuck... She loved it all...

She heard her mouth begging, but she couldn't even tell if she was using -- let alone the content of them; was she begging for more, or begging for it to stop? It occurred to her later that it was probably --

She never knew she could cum like this. Part of her wished she still didn't.

She half expected than when it was all over, she would be standing in the centre of a blast crater. Her body gave one final shudder and collapsed completely, limp in the Doctor's grip. His little tied up ragdoll. His to use. And use her he did; just because -- was finished didn't mean he was...

It was all she could do to hold on, fingers winding around the scraps of her once-important wedding dress, holding on against the onslaught of the Doctor's lust. She felt delicate and broken down, as though any particularly forceful motion would shatter her like glass, and it was a miracle she was standing up to what the Doctor was doing to her now. In particular, it felt like she had been burned between her legs, with only a dull, throbbing ache to remind her that there had once been an obscene pleasure there.

She found herself trembling again as he reached his own climax, his warmth filling her, an echo of the sensations that had rendered her so numb juddering through her like an impact. She fell limp as he finally pulled away from her, red hair falling about her face in a curtain, obscuring everything, leaving her alone with the constant burn of her muscles, the wetness seeping out of her, the throbbing ache of her backside... And beyond it all, in some distant place inside her, a dark thrill, a monstrous satisfaction at the transgression she had committed. Like a line had been crossed in her head that she had never knew existed, not just in personality but in her very -- Pleasure and pain had crashed over her in ways she never knew they could, passing some limit in her body, beyond the point of excess, and coming clean out the other side... Amy got the feeling that something fundamental inside her had shattered at her peak, and she would never get it back.

Her legs drooped uselessly below her, thighs spread lewdly; she didn't even care.

'Well, how was it, Pond?' His voice was still so smooth, so steady. Everything about the Doctor was composure and calm, luminous amusement, as though the fact that he had left her wrecked and exhausting was unexpected, 'How did you like Time Lord sex?'

Amy found that she couldn't bear to look back at him, not like this; in the heat of the moment, with her senses enflamed and her entire body aching for him, and even later, when her mind had contracted down to a blistering singularity, there had been no time to think. But now, she could see clearly again, and here she was, stripped and panting and wet, in front of her best friend, having crossed a deep, unacknowledged line inside her mind.

She spent a few moments just getting enough breath to respond to him, and then several more trying to find the words. She settled on, 'Untie me, Doctor. Please...'

'Oh?' The Time Lord chuckled, running a single finger down the back of her neck and over her back. 'Don't I get a say in that? What if I want to keep you right where you are?'

Amy closed her eyes, sighing, 'Doctor, please don't joke about this...'

'Hey, maybe I'm -- joking,' He sighed back. 'I know you've got something important that you want to get back to... But I could fix that. All I'd need to do is call in a certain someone. He sees you like this, I doubt he'd want -- anymore... Then I could keep you.'

Her eyes snapped open, and for the first time she pulled against the tattered restraints that even now held her in place, 'D-doctor?' She looked back over her shoulder, saw him smirking.

He shook his head, 'Nope.'

Amy heard a sound, barely audible above the sounds of the TARDIS; a low tapping, the sound of footsteps shuffling around her, though seemingly distant. As she stared, the walls seemed to flatten out, becoming two dimensional before her eyes. Finally, she felt her heart sink, as memory returned to her, and the Doctor's features shifted, became liquid and changed.

Of course. This wasn't real, was it?

'Well, Amy! -- was fun to watch...' The man before her grinned as the TARDIS faded away, running a hand through his dark hair. 'I guess part of it comes down to Dulsie's amazing illusions, but that was all from -- mind... Dirty girl.'

Around her, the world had changed, completely shifted yet still, unhappily, familiar. Now unbound, her hands fell limply at her sides, mouth curved in a deep frown as she mentally checked herself, finding the formless skirt and figure-hugging top she had- of course- been wearing had replaced the wedding dress her mind's eye had fabricated for her. Here she was, back in her --, surrounded by these people. Her jailors.

Unfortunately, she was no longer surprised by the mastermind's alien accomplice and her odd mental tricks, nor was she terribly shocked that they had dangled her freedom in front of her like the carrot that it was, before hitting her with the stick's harsh reality. Sander's grinning face meant nothing to her anymore, though she found herself missing the TARDIS terribly even as the pressure of the Doctor's hands on her faded away.

'That was something -- created,' Amy eyed her captor sourly, throwing a pointed finger at the calm and indistinct form of the alien sitting cross-legged in the corner of the cell, arms folded, projecting an aura of pure, undiluted calm as she observed the situation with non-existent eyes. A Dullahan, she was supposed to be, and Amy vaguely remembered being told stories of their kind in the dead of night, though by whom she could not recall, and they were certainly different beings anyway, unless these particular aliens made a habit of appearing on Earth as headless horsemen...

Either way, the creature her captors called Dulcimer always made her uneasy. Something to do with the way she could reshuffle Amy's memories and play them like cards in a deck whenever she wanted.

'I wouldn't trust --' Amy finished acidly.

'Oh, I would,' Sander chuckled. 'Because everything she creates came from your thoughts and fantasies, Amy. And it makes me think, it really does. Rory, and the Doctor. Leadworth, and the TARDIS... You were always running, weren't you? Flitting from place to place, nobody and nothing was ever enough... Rory gave you his heart and you flew off with another man the night before your wedding, the Doctor gave you all of time and space and you -- had to try and get into his pants. Amy Pond. Not really the Girl Who Waited, hmm? Because that implies that -- would sit still for five bloody seconds the minute the Time Lord left you alone, and we -- know that isn't true.'

He had started pacing as he spoke, as he seemed to do when particularly taken with a thought. When he looked at her, he was smiling, and it was the most terribly honest expression Amy had ever seen him wear, 'Amy Pond, always running. And then along came me, the only man you've met who could --even if it is by a leash. And you know what, Pond?'

He leaned in close, his face inches from hers. She didn't move, though she wanted to slap him; they all knew where that path led. This close, she could see the glimmer of something unnameable, dark and hot in his mind, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

'I think you -- being pinned down.'

He let the thought hang in the air between them for a moment before he pulled away, perhaps satisfied with the way her eyes had widened at the sound. Regardless, he left, taking the alien with him and leaving her finally, blessedly alone. As the door slid shut and locked behind them, sealing her in, Amy felt the tears well up in her eyes, in a way they hadn't since... well, in quite a while. Ultimately, she could not give in to them, because to do so would be to prove Sander right, at least in his twisted little world. And so she sat, alone, in the polished white room.

And waited.