torture.
Author: biroid.
Written For: moogle62.
Title: Torture.
Pairing: Master/Doctor.
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: "I'll open your lips, one way or another."
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, despite the disturbing presence of a Dalek in a cardigan on this desk.
Warnings: Non-con, the odd bad word and emotional boo-boos.
Burn.
"How does it feel, Doctor?"
Pressing the heel of his shoe into the Doctor's shoulder, the Master kicked the limp body onto its back. He stood like a hunter, foot on his pray and weapon in his hand; the laser screwdriver had proved its worth many times over, and he'd yet to grow bored of turning it on both of his captives. Between them, the Doctor and the Captain had suffered every setting on the Master's plaything. Jack had experienced an inhuman heart rate, enough to wear the organ to little more than dust, and even a disruption of his involuntary processes. His lungs had forgotten to breathe, his immune system had forgotten to fight, and his cells had forgotten to grow. The Doctor's treatment, on the other hand, had been far less experimental - he had suffered nothing but simple torture.
"Had enough? Feel like spilling a few beans?" Grinding his heel deeper into his rival's shoulder, the Master noted the wince that crossed his face was nothing short of exhausted. The reinstatement of his youth was a process that drained energy like no other, but it wasn't just his body that sustained the damage - the Doctor's mind was drained, pained and worn. One look into his half-hidden brown eyes told the Master everything, and a broad smile crossed his thin lips. There was only so much a Time Lord could take. Even the Doctor would have a breaking point.
"Evidently, Doctor, you don't understand how this works," Removing his foot and pacing away, the Master settled himself rather happily into a chair that had been pulled up for him by a guard, "This isn't going to go away if you can out-stubborn me. Earth is mine, and keeping your gums hushed isn't going to change that. You've lost, my friend - you lost the moment you laid eyes on me," As the Master spoke, he began to feel around in the inside pocket of his jacket, eventually exchanging the laser screwdriver for a slender silver tube, "So it would be wise to unbutton your pout and give your tongue a wee wag. Tell me what you said to her, Doctor, or this isn't going to end pleasantly."
With his thumb, the Master uncapped the tube and a bold flame shot up at once. A lighter. Nothing more.
"Actually, it isn't going to end pleasantly anyway. As much as I'd love to offer you a get out of jail free card for snitching, I think I'll carry on with the torture and the screaming and the ending your lives. It's incredibly fun," A wild look of incredulous amusement wrapped his features as the Master took what seemed to be a cigarette from the pocket of a passing guard and pushed it between his lips, tearing his eyes away from the pathetic limp figure on the ground to light up. He could feel the Doctor's woebegone eyes on him, and so made a great show of taking a drag. Once it was removed from his mouth, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger almost thoughtfully.
"But don't worry, Doctor - you keep yourself shut. I'll open your lips, one way or another." In one swift movement, the cigarette changed hands and was pressed down into what was showing of the Doctor's ankle. A violent start was given by the Time Lord on the floor, but no sound came from his lips. Searing heat burnt through his skin but he remained deathly quiet, his eyes fixed on the Master's twisted expression. It was an expression that was only to grow more twisted, more vicious as the burn elicited no cry.
With a dark growl, the Master threw the cigarette carelessly to his left and stood, pushing the Doctor back onto his stomach with a hard, well-placed shove of his heel. He then strode towards the lift, pausing only to leave one of the armed guard with his final wishes.
"Get him ready."
Darkness.
The darkness was absolute. It smothered everything in its wake. The bridge had become a hermetically sealed room that contained nothing but darkness and stale air; the windows were sheathed by thick metal plating and the doors were utterly impregnable. No amount of brute force would move anything in the room, not least because everything had been taken out of it. It was nothing but empty space, sheer blackness and fear, fear that darted closer with every step into the unknown he took. It brushed past his shoulder blades and forced a shiver down his spine. Darkness smothered everything, but fear consumed it. And oh, how it scared him.
The Doctor had tasted fear on many occasions. He knew what it was like to have both hearts hammering against his ribcage whilst fate curled just out of his control, working in its proverbially mysterious ways. He had feared for the lives of so many people on so many occasions; he'd feared for friends, for enemies, for ships and for planets. And yet, amidst all of this fear, there were very few times he'd feared solely for himself; it felt selfish, it felt greedy, but it gripped the depths of his mind with a cold fist and refused to let go.
As he sat against a wall, knees pressed tightly against his bare chest, the Doctor knew that he was scared. In a room that was rapidly running out of air, a room that was being heated by his own body, the goose bumps that rose enough to sting his arms had no other reason to be there; he wasn't cold and he wasn't suffering with any affliction. Despite the attempts made by the Time Lord to block the emotion out, to regain some sort of control over his senses, the goose bumps stayed firmly in place. They crawled over his skin and pulled his hair erect so strongly that a wince occasionally crossed the Doctor's drawn face.
Not that anybody could see.
Now and again, the door at the far end of the room would open, a crack of light filtering through for just a second before it was slammed shut again. The sudden intensity of that light burnt his eyes every time it came, yet - as far as he could tell - nobody ever looked in on him. Nobody ever spoke or made their presence known. Nobody ever surveyed the state he was in. The split second of brightness was, as he'd fathomed, nothing more than an attempt to kill his hope, make him think that nobody was coming. It was designed to make him think he'd live out the rest of his regenerations against that one wall.
One of his hearts was rapidly being hoodwinked by a deep sense of despair; everything but helplessness, every emotion, feeling and urge, had long since been numbed. Even pain, from the violent agony he suffered every time the laser screwdriver was turned on him to the stinging of the goose bumps, was not what it could have been. What had kept him silence throughout his interrogation hadn't been quite enough to keep his hope strong, as doubt made that one heart beat so very fast. What ifs clouded every thought he tried not to have.
Then again, the other side of him - his other heart - was filled with a feeling that was indestructible. No matter what happened, no matter how faithless the Master was intent on making him feel, he knew he had to pull through. Martha was down on Earth, no doubt fighting to uphold her side of the mission. She was fighting to save him, and he was - in turn - fighting to save Earth. If he gave in, he would have failed her. Her and humankind. It was that thought, and that thought alone, which slowed his second heart into an almost relaxed state. It calmed him.
A sudden, metallic slamming sound disturbed the still darkness and the Doctor raised his heavy head just in time to witness the heavy door being swung outwards. Blinding light filled the entire room within seconds, burning the image of the doorframe into his mind. He raised his arm as quickly as his drained body would allow in an attempt to shield his eyes, but he could still see it. He could still see the white light, the bright glare. It was agonizing, but the feeling was numbed. It hurt and yet... it didn't, and that distressed him far more than anything else the Master had done. He could no longer feel.
Burying his head in his knees, the Doctor shied away like a child would, both of his slender hands grasping viciously at the strands of his hair. And as he hid, as he curled into himself and crudely attempted to make himself experience something in its entirety, he could have sworn he'd heard somebody laughing.
Blood.
"I told you,"
While breathing heavy words into the ear of the other, the Master's lips brushed against his cheek and caught the taste of salt on the skin. The Doctor's hair was matted with perspiration and a thin stream of red drizzled down from his scalp, but the Master fancied the salt came from tears rather than blood or sweat. Unwinding his fingers from the Doctor's hair, he allowed the Time Lord's temple to hit the dark wooden table with a sickening thump before thrusting roughly and eliciting a weak, pitiful struggle. With his hands bound behind his back and his body no longer under his full control, it was all the Doctor could manage.
The table against which he was pinned was low, low enough to bruise his pelvis every time he was ground forwards and low enough to graze his limp cock. The Master had no interest in exciting him. The Master had no interest in doing anything other than proving he was right. And, as the Doctor's body was jarred by another brutal thrust, he had never been more desperate to stop that proof from surfacing. To give in, to give the Master his proof, would be to allow his rival deep into his mind. He couldn't endanger Earth, endanger Martha, because he wasn't strong enough--
A moan, a guttural sound that the Doctor hadn't thought himself capable of making, broke past the Doctor's gritted teeth and accompanied an expression contorted in pain. It hurt. With the Master's nails suddenly embedding themselves in his hips and an unrelenting erection being pushed ever deeper inside him, he hadn't been able to contain himself. However, that wasn't the only surprise his body had in store for him; it had broken a seal, and his teeth couldn't pin his lip for the sudden onslaught of tortured cries that tumbled from his mouth.
"I told you!"
The Master slammed his hips into the Doctor's shaking figure, his voice bordering on maniacal as he both laughed and sneered in the same three words. For a week, the Master had received nothing but silence. He'd exhausted and deprived his nemesis for seven days, and for seven days he'd heard labored breathing and feet against the cell's metal floor. He'd never doubted his ability to break the Doctor, however - they were too alike to be strangers to each other; the Master knew the Doctor's body, his mind, inside out. It was never a matter of if, merely a matter of when.
That when had finally arrived.
Pressing the sides of two fingers into the Doctor's mouth, the Master used the leverage to yank the other's head up as far as his spine would allow. The Doctor's teeth clinked sharply, rapidly against the ring that was restraining his tongue, and choking sounds worked their way out from beneath the fingers. Ignoring the gag reflex he could feel pushing at the back of the Doctor's throat, the Master dragged his tongue over the thin stream of blood that had leaked down to the Time Lord's jaw line before speaking in a calmer, triumphant tone.
"I told you I'd open your lips."
Written For: moogle62.
Title: Torture.
Pairing: Master/Doctor.
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: "I'll open your lips, one way or another."
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, despite the disturbing presence of a Dalek in a cardigan on this desk.
Warnings: Non-con, the odd bad word and emotional boo-boos.
Burn.
"How does it feel, Doctor?"
Pressing the heel of his shoe into the Doctor's shoulder, the Master kicked the limp body onto its back. He stood like a hunter, foot on his pray and weapon in his hand; the laser screwdriver had proved its worth many times over, and he'd yet to grow bored of turning it on both of his captives. Between them, the Doctor and the Captain had suffered every setting on the Master's plaything. Jack had experienced an inhuman heart rate, enough to wear the organ to little more than dust, and even a disruption of his involuntary processes. His lungs had forgotten to breathe, his immune system had forgotten to fight, and his cells had forgotten to grow. The Doctor's treatment, on the other hand, had been far less experimental - he had suffered nothing but simple torture.
"Had enough? Feel like spilling a few beans?" Grinding his heel deeper into his rival's shoulder, the Master noted the wince that crossed his face was nothing short of exhausted. The reinstatement of his youth was a process that drained energy like no other, but it wasn't just his body that sustained the damage - the Doctor's mind was drained, pained and worn. One look into his half-hidden brown eyes told the Master everything, and a broad smile crossed his thin lips. There was only so much a Time Lord could take. Even the Doctor would have a breaking point.
"Evidently, Doctor, you don't understand how this works," Removing his foot and pacing away, the Master settled himself rather happily into a chair that had been pulled up for him by a guard, "This isn't going to go away if you can out-stubborn me. Earth is mine, and keeping your gums hushed isn't going to change that. You've lost, my friend - you lost the moment you laid eyes on me," As the Master spoke, he began to feel around in the inside pocket of his jacket, eventually exchanging the laser screwdriver for a slender silver tube, "So it would be wise to unbutton your pout and give your tongue a wee wag. Tell me what you said to her, Doctor, or this isn't going to end pleasantly."
With his thumb, the Master uncapped the tube and a bold flame shot up at once. A lighter. Nothing more.
"Actually, it isn't going to end pleasantly anyway. As much as I'd love to offer you a get out of jail free card for snitching, I think I'll carry on with the torture and the screaming and the ending your lives. It's incredibly fun," A wild look of incredulous amusement wrapped his features as the Master took what seemed to be a cigarette from the pocket of a passing guard and pushed it between his lips, tearing his eyes away from the pathetic limp figure on the ground to light up. He could feel the Doctor's woebegone eyes on him, and so made a great show of taking a drag. Once it was removed from his mouth, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger almost thoughtfully.
"But don't worry, Doctor - you keep yourself shut. I'll open your lips, one way or another." In one swift movement, the cigarette changed hands and was pressed down into what was showing of the Doctor's ankle. A violent start was given by the Time Lord on the floor, but no sound came from his lips. Searing heat burnt through his skin but he remained deathly quiet, his eyes fixed on the Master's twisted expression. It was an expression that was only to grow more twisted, more vicious as the burn elicited no cry.
With a dark growl, the Master threw the cigarette carelessly to his left and stood, pushing the Doctor back onto his stomach with a hard, well-placed shove of his heel. He then strode towards the lift, pausing only to leave one of the armed guard with his final wishes.
"Get him ready."
Darkness.
The darkness was absolute. It smothered everything in its wake. The bridge had become a hermetically sealed room that contained nothing but darkness and stale air; the windows were sheathed by thick metal plating and the doors were utterly impregnable. No amount of brute force would move anything in the room, not least because everything had been taken out of it. It was nothing but empty space, sheer blackness and fear, fear that darted closer with every step into the unknown he took. It brushed past his shoulder blades and forced a shiver down his spine. Darkness smothered everything, but fear consumed it. And oh, how it scared him.
The Doctor had tasted fear on many occasions. He knew what it was like to have both hearts hammering against his ribcage whilst fate curled just out of his control, working in its proverbially mysterious ways. He had feared for the lives of so many people on so many occasions; he'd feared for friends, for enemies, for ships and for planets. And yet, amidst all of this fear, there were very few times he'd feared solely for himself; it felt selfish, it felt greedy, but it gripped the depths of his mind with a cold fist and refused to let go.
As he sat against a wall, knees pressed tightly against his bare chest, the Doctor knew that he was scared. In a room that was rapidly running out of air, a room that was being heated by his own body, the goose bumps that rose enough to sting his arms had no other reason to be there; he wasn't cold and he wasn't suffering with any affliction. Despite the attempts made by the Time Lord to block the emotion out, to regain some sort of control over his senses, the goose bumps stayed firmly in place. They crawled over his skin and pulled his hair erect so strongly that a wince occasionally crossed the Doctor's drawn face.
Not that anybody could see.
Now and again, the door at the far end of the room would open, a crack of light filtering through for just a second before it was slammed shut again. The sudden intensity of that light burnt his eyes every time it came, yet - as far as he could tell - nobody ever looked in on him. Nobody ever spoke or made their presence known. Nobody ever surveyed the state he was in. The split second of brightness was, as he'd fathomed, nothing more than an attempt to kill his hope, make him think that nobody was coming. It was designed to make him think he'd live out the rest of his regenerations against that one wall.
One of his hearts was rapidly being hoodwinked by a deep sense of despair; everything but helplessness, every emotion, feeling and urge, had long since been numbed. Even pain, from the violent agony he suffered every time the laser screwdriver was turned on him to the stinging of the goose bumps, was not what it could have been. What had kept him silence throughout his interrogation hadn't been quite enough to keep his hope strong, as doubt made that one heart beat so very fast. What ifs clouded every thought he tried not to have.
Then again, the other side of him - his other heart - was filled with a feeling that was indestructible. No matter what happened, no matter how faithless the Master was intent on making him feel, he knew he had to pull through. Martha was down on Earth, no doubt fighting to uphold her side of the mission. She was fighting to save him, and he was - in turn - fighting to save Earth. If he gave in, he would have failed her. Her and humankind. It was that thought, and that thought alone, which slowed his second heart into an almost relaxed state. It calmed him.
A sudden, metallic slamming sound disturbed the still darkness and the Doctor raised his heavy head just in time to witness the heavy door being swung outwards. Blinding light filled the entire room within seconds, burning the image of the doorframe into his mind. He raised his arm as quickly as his drained body would allow in an attempt to shield his eyes, but he could still see it. He could still see the white light, the bright glare. It was agonizing, but the feeling was numbed. It hurt and yet... it didn't, and that distressed him far more than anything else the Master had done. He could no longer feel.
Burying his head in his knees, the Doctor shied away like a child would, both of his slender hands grasping viciously at the strands of his hair. And as he hid, as he curled into himself and crudely attempted to make himself experience something in its entirety, he could have sworn he'd heard somebody laughing.
Blood.
"I told you,"
While breathing heavy words into the ear of the other, the Master's lips brushed against his cheek and caught the taste of salt on the skin. The Doctor's hair was matted with perspiration and a thin stream of red drizzled down from his scalp, but the Master fancied the salt came from tears rather than blood or sweat. Unwinding his fingers from the Doctor's hair, he allowed the Time Lord's temple to hit the dark wooden table with a sickening thump before thrusting roughly and eliciting a weak, pitiful struggle. With his hands bound behind his back and his body no longer under his full control, it was all the Doctor could manage.
The table against which he was pinned was low, low enough to bruise his pelvis every time he was ground forwards and low enough to graze his limp cock. The Master had no interest in exciting him. The Master had no interest in doing anything other than proving he was right. And, as the Doctor's body was jarred by another brutal thrust, he had never been more desperate to stop that proof from surfacing. To give in, to give the Master his proof, would be to allow his rival deep into his mind. He couldn't endanger Earth, endanger Martha, because he wasn't strong enough--
A moan, a guttural sound that the Doctor hadn't thought himself capable of making, broke past the Doctor's gritted teeth and accompanied an expression contorted in pain. It hurt. With the Master's nails suddenly embedding themselves in his hips and an unrelenting erection being pushed ever deeper inside him, he hadn't been able to contain himself. However, that wasn't the only surprise his body had in store for him; it had broken a seal, and his teeth couldn't pin his lip for the sudden onslaught of tortured cries that tumbled from his mouth.
"I told you!"
The Master slammed his hips into the Doctor's shaking figure, his voice bordering on maniacal as he both laughed and sneered in the same three words. For a week, the Master had received nothing but silence. He'd exhausted and deprived his nemesis for seven days, and for seven days he'd heard labored breathing and feet against the cell's metal floor. He'd never doubted his ability to break the Doctor, however - they were too alike to be strangers to each other; the Master knew the Doctor's body, his mind, inside out. It was never a matter of if, merely a matter of when.
That when had finally arrived.
Pressing the sides of two fingers into the Doctor's mouth, the Master used the leverage to yank the other's head up as far as his spine would allow. The Doctor's teeth clinked sharply, rapidly against the ring that was restraining his tongue, and choking sounds worked their way out from beneath the fingers. Ignoring the gag reflex he could feel pushing at the back of the Doctor's throat, the Master dragged his tongue over the thin stream of blood that had leaked down to the Time Lord's jaw line before speaking in a calmer, triumphant tone.
"I told you I'd open your lips."