Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 30

He had cursed at her, as he slipped out from between her lips, only to feel her tongue slip out on instinct to follow his tip, cleaning it of the last remnants of his orgasm. The venom in his voice had brought her to tears as she collapsed to her knees, still tasting him so strongly.

Amy shuddered on the bed, remembering the black pit of hopelessness that had opened up in her heart as they had dropped her to the floor, naked, collared and dripping both cum and her own juices, and moved to walk out. She hadn't even had the wherewithal to beg, the utter humiliation of the moment demanding silence from her, until they had left, the door back to the front of the club closing behind them.

She could still feel the horrified panic that had given her wings then, that had forced her to her feet and sent her screaming after them, running on bare feet to catch up as her entire world wandered away. She hadn't made it, of course; her presence back in the main room had attracted the attention of customers, and her nudity and collar had marked her as available even with the earth shaking events she had just experienced in the back. Hands and the compulsions of her collar had pulled her down into the crowd, strangely shaped fingers slipping inside her as she watched Rory's back, disappearing into the street beyond.

It still made her sob to think about, even now. Fiori may have been watching, but Amy didn't care; that moment had done more to crush her hopes of ever escaping this life of sexual servitude than anything Sander had brought to bear against her. It hadn't even been real, that was the worst part; the Olivan, like any good club with an interstellar clientele, had a life-form scanner above the door, set to reveal the true forms of any shape-shifting patrons for security reasons.

The familiar figures that had walked through it became much less familiar in that moment. It hadn't been real. It wasn't them.

Amy should have been relieved, but the thought that Fiori had arranged for her to be tricked by a pair of shape-shifters had left her afraid. Sander had only wanted her scared and suffering, but Fiori? He wanted to break her, and worse, he knew exactly where to press, what weak points to pry into, to make her pop open like a clamshell.

If anyone could make her a true slave, it was Fiori. Not just that she obeyed, but that she actually forgot what it was like to be free. So that her mind was wrapped around a solid core of obedience, and her collar could be swapped out for one without enhancements, nothing more than a symbol of ownership around the neck of a sex slave that had no concept of escape.

A sex slave that used to be known as Amy Pond...