Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 28

The truth was, she had really screwed up, this time; escaping from Sander had only caused a significant downturn in her future prospects, not to mention Sally's and Lorna's. The first steps of her journey out of her captor's clutches had been glorious, freewheeling things, akin to her first moments stepping out of the TARDIS and onto alien soil, a whole new context under a new sky, just waiting to be explored. She supposed she had that too in Selestene, but the point was that Amy had been free, at a time when all she could see was a life without the possibility of rescue, where Rory and the Doctor had become nothing but abstractions.

And now, here she was, in an even worse situation...

'I got a nice little peek into your mind back there, Amelia,' Grelle spoke as though he was imparting some heart-to-heart secret to her. He stepped closer by the second, 'So I know exactly the kinds of things you've been doing lately. Now, we're definitely not permitted to tamper with high value stock like you, especially when we've got perfectly good public stock out there for employee morale, but... How could I resist?'

All of a sudden, he was standing over her, hands deep in his pockets. With one last look over his shoulder, checking that the door hadn't suddenly swung open and let in any hopes of rescue, he proceeded to not surprise Amy in the slightest; his fingers went to his belt, unbuckling it enough to lower his pants.

'Just this once,' He said in theatrical whisper, winking. 'I've been in your mind, so I know you're familiar with this thing.'

The alien stepped forward again, nudging Amy's knees apart with the tips of his shoes; when he gripped her hair too tightly with one pale hand, any hope of a fight went out of her. He pushed forward, angled his hips just right, and filled her mouth immediately, deeply, to the back of her throat.

Far more roughly than Sander ever had.

Grelle took a moment to alter his grip, curling his fingers around the back of her head, keeping Amy pinioned in place with distressingly effective strength. Now that she was secured, there was nothing to stop him.

He took great liberties with her, thrusting into her mouth with no care for her comfort. He tasted of nothing Amy had ever experienced before; a strange, oddly smooth taste, nothing like the salty, human taste of the others she had done this for. Not that she had much time to deal with the sensation; Grelle used her roughly, his cock pushing over her tongue before withdrawing, again and again, hard and insistent and more than enough to make her gag.

Amy choked, closed her eyes against the oncoming tears of discomfort, felt them welling up hotly, prickling at her eyelids, and yet Grelle never stopped; and closing her eyes quickly turned out to be a bad choice.

Grelle was a Trine-form, after all, and Amy had plenty of experience with their abilities; just like Lysithea, the green-haired man poked through her mind without shame. Memories projected themselves on the insides of Amy's eyelids, as real to her as any other sight, vivid and powerful, replete with all the sounds and sensations of their respective scenes. There was Rory, making love- truly making love to her- for the first time, all awkwardness and elbows in the dark; in any other situation Amy would have found it funny. Now, it elicited only a pang of guilty longing, a desperate desire to be free from this.

There was Sander, taking her on that beach, while she was still struggling to accept the cold reality that she had been fallen back into his clutches. Even further back, there she was on the bed in that cell, taking her captor's cock and squirming in orgasm, shame colouring her cheeks a deep red. Both times she gave in to him so easily, too easily, just as she was now, with this stranger.

And there was Jeff... Jeff...

No, no... not that. Not that one, please...

Amy had resisted the memory before she had even had time to think, everything in her consciousness recoiling from it like it burned. She had been far too obvious, and it was so clear that Grelle had noted her revulsion. He made her witness every moment of that night, in that unfamiliar room in Leadworth, the tip of his cock at the back of her throat for every torturous second.

This time, the shameful tears fell, dripping down her cheeks. Amy just hoped she could play it off as a result of her gagging.

It was also the moment she understood, truly understood what she had fallen into; it was the careless, almost bored cruelty in Grelle's manner. It was the way he sifted through her memories, dug through them as though her mind was a toy box, shrugged off the context of them with none of the care that Lysithea had shown her psyche, and half of the interest. It was the way he shuddered in pleasure, not just at her mouth on him, but at the culmination of each new memory.

To him, she was just a price. A collection of memories and assorted character traits attached to a numerical value. Just another in an endless series of life forms whose heads he had delved into, catalogued and valued, put on a shelf with no hope of rescue. How long had he done this job? What was the scale of his investment in this? How many minds had he inhabited, felt their fear and despair and hopelessness, their anger and secret shames laid bare to him?

What could she possibly be, in the face of that, but just another number? Another toy he so rarely got to play with.

Sander, at least, was different; to him, she was Amelia Pond. She was the Girl Who Waited. Companion to the Doctor, mother of River Song and wife of the Last Centurion. Like it or not, he valued her; she was a special commodity, the hostage he seemed drawn to. Her life was something he would fight to preserve. Not so here.

The Guild was uncharted territory. She didn't even really know what they had planned for her, outside of a vague idea. The truth was, she had ended up trading down, sacrificing the relative safety of Sander's care for the wild unknown of a culture she hadn't the first clue about.

Resistance would be like stepping off of a cliff...

Grelle continued to riffle through her, using her both physically and mentally, raping damn near her entire being. Amy felt her muscles relax, even the potential for a fight going out of her, surrender turning her limp and pliable in his grip. She kept her eyes closed, allowed it to happen; when Grelle came, splashing over her tongue, she swallowed immediately, avoiding tasting it or thinking about what had happened as best she could. She didn't have to let it get to her.

Even so, she couldn't help but sob, as he pulled away.

'I feel pretty confident that you'll keep that to yourself, Amelia,' He said, resettling his pants and zipping up his fly. There was a glint of white teeth, a glimmer of almost savage confidence in Grelle's eyes, 'I don't even think I'll need to use your Collar, now will I?'

She didn't even have the will to glare, opting instead to simply look at the floor and wait. He left soon enough; there probably wasn't much use in hanging around in a slave's cell and besides, questions may be asked if he lingered. The door closed like a full stop on the entire sordid ordeal, leaving Amy naked and alone, somehow in an even worse situation than the one she had woken up in.

There was a camera in the ceiling, or at least a device close enough to one in appearance that Amy could assume its function, and she spent a moment scowling at it, the knowledge that she was still being watched offensive to her even after everything she had just been through. But being irritated lacked a point; stressing over that would only stop her from her manifold other worries, least of all the current status of Sally and Lorna.

This was the first time they had been separated for a while, and the reality of it filled Amy with a sort of grasping loss, the very real possibility that she might not see them again a large contributor to her situational dread. Everything about this lay heavily in her heart, and as Amy picked herself up off the floor and situated herself on the sparsely furnished bed in one corner, she tried her hardest to ignore the world and drift off to sleep, chasing oblivion with everything in her.

And when she found it, her dreams were filled with domination, even free from the influence of the interface drugs. She struggled in somnolent bondage, shuddered and arched her back as she was violated by the shadowy hands of anonymous captors.

But even without seeing their faces, Amy knew the identity of the man above her...

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

Sander surveyed the sparse room with a sour expression, grinding his teeth absently, stress building in the back of his mind, weighing him down like an anchor. If Amy and the others had been here before, they certainly weren't now, nor were they anywhere in the surrounding few blocks; he and Mara had returned to the building in question after a painstaking search of the immediate area. Nothing had turned up.

The Phi-sign attested to the fact that this building had been left for interplanetary squatters, nomads passing through the system from elsewhere, so it was possible that anyone could have come through after the captives had entered. Of course, this wouldn't be a problem normally; Tsugi had already gained access to the surveillance devices in the area, after all. But the footage immediately after Amy's arrival had been deleted, or locked away under additional layers of encryption that had yet to be unlocked.

Of course, this problem was being worked on back in the suite, and Sander had every confidence that Tsugi and Kana would prevail in time, but time was something none of them had. Every moment they spent in the midst of their search was another moment that the hostages got further and further away. And so, Sander's mind worked.

Somebody put that footage out of reach, and so the girls hadn't just walked out of here unassisted. They had been taken. That was just the reality, there was no point in denying it, though the thought filled Sander with a formless, terrible dread, like the air around him had been charged with electricity.

There were several groups that would kidnap women off the streets that operated in Selestene, and Sander knew all of them by heart. He had forced himself to learn, in preparation for coming here; a Hackett didn't wander into danger without knowing what he might be facing, after all. And this was his old stalking grounds.

The most obvious culprit would be one of the many slave traders that operated within the Arcology, and that was as good a place to start as any; a slave trader would have left a calling card, after all.

It was one of the more viciously mercantile systems in Selestene; slave traders who would steal already owned slaves off the streets had begun leaving an identifying mark around the scene of the abduction, in order to draw those Masters that bothered to look for their property in to re-buy their own slaves at a mark up.

Of course, the authorities turned a blind eye to the practice; this was just another part of living in Selestene.

Once he had committed himself to the possibility, Sander found the mark with relative ease; making it hard to find would rather defeat the purpose, after all. It had been burned into the wall, low to the ground in one corner. He recognized it immediately.

'It's the Chry-Guild,' Mara said, somewhat unhelpfully. Sander's fists clenched, anger coming off of him in waves.

'Mistake,' He said, shaking his head. 'Hoo boy. Big mistake. Huge.'

'Sander? What are you going to do?'

'We'd better get back to the suite,' He growled. 'We know where they are now, after all. Better get Ren, Dulcimer... our heavy hitters. Because baby, we are going to war.'

To be continued...