I have many reasons for you being here, and if I can make you hate all of them before you die...
((OOC: For my OWN level of sanity, got to write some of this up before I start writing up the rest of the torture scenes))
When Martha Jones wakes, she is aware of only two things, that her arms and legs are tied above and below her and that she is not wearing a lot of clothes. Hopefully, there are at least bra and panties, but it's impossible to tell.
The room is black.
Silent.
Freezing.
Her head presses back against something hard and cold. She's shivering, partly from fear, partly from the cold, but her shaking breathing is the only sound echoing through the room.
It's been a long time since she's been afraid for herself. Usually, there's not exactly the opportunity for it or there's someone more pressing to be afraid for. Now there's time and silence and her heart rocketing back and forth within her chest so much that it hurts.
Even now she can't help, but let her mind slide away from here. Anything to distract her, at this point. Her boys. The last time she'd seen them they were all drunk and had kissed each other, and now- Her heart twists up mid-rocket at the thought of how much danger they'll be in. Once they find out that Calisto has her. There won't be plans, which is probably just what Calisto wanted. This is probably the end. They're going to get themselves killed and Martha can only hope she won't be alive to see it.
It'll be her fault, that they'll be careening head first into their own deaths or worse. Much worse than dying. She hates that she can't stop them, she can't help them, she can't do anything. She can just stay here and shake and wait for what's to come and hope they gather an army together before heading into the unknown. Make a plan. Find something out before you discover I'm gone. Please. She bites back heavy waves of emotion, try to stead her breathing just a little, to calm down. Not that it matters. There's no one here to hear it or see it in the dark.
Her arms and legs are already sore. The rope cuts into her wrists every time she attempts to move. She's tempted to try frantic pulling, anyway, ignore the pain and the inevitable blood from the rope cutting into her, and hope that a combination of desperation and adrenaline will give her the strength to weaken the rope and break free.
She can't stop shaking. Her skin is covered in goosebumps from the cold and the fear.
Shut up. Be strong. Shut up. Be strong. You're giving her what she wants. You're giving-
"Martha Jones." White light illuminates the room, temporarily blinding her. Not that she needs to see to know who's in the room with her now. It's not like she can't recognize that voice.
Heels tap across tile and Martha's vision focuses in on Calisto's smile. "I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it is to have you in my bathroom."
And that's exactly where she is. A bathroom. In a deep tub, more specifically. Her hands are tied to an iron towel rod behind her and her feet to the pipes at the front of the tub. The rope leaves her vulnerable. No covering up. She's in a bra and panties. At least she's wearing something, but it doesn't keep her from shaking.
Calisto sits on the edge of the tub, wearing only a little more than Martha. It still looks like lingerie. She leans down into the tub and slips her hand behind Martha's neck, pinching sharply. There must still be a bruise there from when she'd choked her earlier. The pain is much more sharp and achy than it should be.
"I guess you're wondering why you're still here. Why I haven't killed you, already, gotten it over with and left your body for someone to find on the road somewhere. Or cut you into pieces and send one of those pieces to every single person that you care about." Calisto tilts her head to the side as if she's seriously considering that, for a moment. "I think the Doctor would like to have your foot."
Martha swallows, even though it hurts to swallow, and she can just barely manage breath when Calisto holds her neck with nails that feel nearly as sharp as razor blades.
Calisto frowns at the lack of response. "This will go so much easier for you if you talk back, Martha." The nails start to cut skin. "Now were you wondering?"
Martha makes a soft, pained noise and finally shakes her head. Not a lot, but enough to qualify as a response and she hates that she can't fight back, but what's the point of trying to fight back or be defiant when it will only result in more pain.
Calisto laughs. "Of course, you weren't. We know each other far too well by now to wonder such things. The truth is I don't need a reason to torture you or anyone else. There are, at least, two from the basement that I've just met today who are proof of that."
Martha's eyes widen. Oh God, who? Before she can stop herself. It's useless. The way her heart sinks deep into her stomach reminds her of that, but-
The demon slips into the tub next to her, leaning against Martha's tightly stretched arm. Her lips press a kiss to Martha's chin. "The truth is... I have reasons for you."
Martha makes a pained noise of protest and Calisto breaks her arm. Just like that. With her bare hands, all her strength, and an arm positioned the right way... Calisto can break bones Martha screams, tears burning her eyelids, unable to think past the excruciating shot of pain burning through her arm.
Calisto slips her fingers down Martha's sternum, between her breasts as the woman screams and heaves trying to catch her breath. It's only when Martha's quiet that Calisto bothers to continue speaking, by this time her hand has slipped down to Martha's stomach, covered in goosebumps, shivering from fear and pain and God, it's wonderful.
"I have many reasons for you being here, Martha, and if I can make you hate all of them before you die, I'll have done my job. Well, that's what we're here for. Isn't it?" The demon plays with Martha's bra strap before she lunges forward to press a hot, sharp kiss to Martha's collarbone. So hard that her teeth press down and cut through the skin.
A little blood.
Calisto licks her lips of the blood and smiles at Martha who isn't looking at her, who is struggling just to breathe and begging someone to put her to sleep.
Her arm. Never mind that her collarbone is bleeding, her arm shouldn't be stuck in that position, screaming at her. Constantly. Over and over. Heart beating, rocketing within her over and over and over...and where's the silence? Where's the dark?
"Let's see, sweets, what are reasons. Well, first, there is the obvious, of course. All of those people in that little basement of yours, look up to you. And I do love showing people the truth. That they're looking up to the wrong sorts of people entirely. The ones who are so easy to break." She smiles slipping her fingers down Martha's waist, tracing her hip bones, absently. "Why do they look up to You? you're human. You're nothing. Just because you came through first and Brando took pity on you. You could have been anyone. And yet, it wasn't anyone. It was you."
Martha wishes Calisto would get her mouth away from her ear and more importantly, her fingers away from her panties, and just- Oh God. Of everything she managed to anticipate happening to her in the moments of silence that came before the light, she had never considered- Not for one second- She's going to be raped by a demon. She'd rather be dead.
And now, for once, she's trying to focus on the words, on the pain in her arm in the hopes that she won't focus as much on the... her fingers. God. Oh... God.
"Then there's the Doctor." Calisto smirks. "He has this incredible arrogance. Don't you think? So convinced that every problem can be solved without violence, somehow stop me without killing me." She laughs just a little at that, pressing her nails into Martha's waist. "He thought he could stop this, too?"
She didn't hear that. She didn't, just the pain making her hear things. "Wh- what?"
"He didn't tell you? Mm. Well. Not that it matters, right? He didn't think it would happen. The point is he's full of himself and you're one of the things that makes him explode and he's absolutely delicious when he walks off the edge in all his firey, glory. And I've decided that I want him to be the one to kill me... which, of course, means the more fun I have with you, the better for me."
Martha can't believe that she's thinking that it's not her that would drive him to that kind of insanity, it's Rose. But she is. Sure, he loves her as his mate, but to kill, because... Maybe she's only thinking of it, because it's so much easier than thinking about Calisto's fingers touching her in ways that she'll never be able to wash herself from.
Calisto lies on top of her and the air leaves her lungs, almost completely. Those biting teeth and powerful lips press against hers and Martha screams, again, into the kiss, because the movement presses her arm down, again, and she's struggling out of instinct, despite the pain. Tears begin to trickle down her face and she sobs against Calisto's lips.
"The final reason, Miss Martha Jones, that you're here and I'm going to have as much fun with you as I possibly can... you didn't bring Brando back."
Martha tenses, eyes flying open in a mixture of guilt and shock and- Calisto looks pissed. As evil as she is, Martha has never seen her look pissed before. For once, the demon isn't smiling, but only nodding.
"Yes, Martha. I know. I ran into your mugger." Who is now bits and pieces and stuffed in some random trash can. "One of his last thoughts was maybe I was punishment for someone he'd killed. Who isn't exactly dead anymore. So yes I know."
And then Calisto slaps her. Hard.
"You bring back him, but not Brando. And you're glad of it. You chose Desmond Descant over him," Des's name comes out in an angry spit, a fury that can't be eased. "And Brando was mine to take. Do you think Des would bother dying for you. He's arrogant and he loves living and yet you throw your life away for him, and not Brando."
"I didn't know I could! I didn't!" Martha screeches, unable to control the words from coming, even if they sound weak and pitiful from the pain and the bruise across her throat, in her vocal chords.
Still Martha knows that even if she had known and she'd been made to choose...
If she'd known saving Brando meant she could not save Des, she would have made the selfish choice. She would have picked Des. "I- I didn't... I didn't know..." It's a pained whisper. It feels as if Calisto's body is crushing hers and before she can make another noise, Calisto shoves a hand over her mouth.
Kill me, kill me, kill me.
"Not yet. Not nearly yet," Calisto has a knife in her hand, pulled it out of her bra, flipped it open and now it's gleaming in that horrid, white light. "You're not a virgin. I'm sure." She's smiling, again, sliding the knife down Martha's sternum and stomach, a lovely little trail of blood. "But I can guarantee you. You've never been fucked like this before."
The knifes goes into her and Martha screams. And in and out and in and out and in and out and over and over and over and- Oh God. Oh God. No. Please. Please, kill me. Just kill me.
Calisto's face is expressionless, but her eyes are absolutely delighted, alight with enjoyment at the screaming, at the blood, and the pain. It feels so good. She keeps one hand on Martha's shoulder, the other's covered in blood. Tears slip down Martha's face and she's sobbing. Thought has left her. It's only pain. Her body is shaking.
"Hope you didn't want kids, sweets," Calisto murmurs, breath like fire against Martha's icy skin.
Unconsciousness starts to hit. Darkness edges at her vision and she's never been so grateful for it. She hopes she doesn't wake up, again. Fire. Bleeding all over, filling up the tub beneath her and she hardly realizes it, because- sobbing. It doesn't. Matter. Just sleep. Dark. Please, give me dark.
Calisto laughs and gets out of the tub before she get s too covered in all of the blood.
"You know. I've always wanted to watch someone really drown in their own blood. Usually by the time they bleed enough to drown in, they're already dead." She smirks, flipping her hair behind her shoulder and using a towel to clean the blood from her legs. "I think I've stumbled across a gem in having such a faulty healer in my hold, don't you?"
Martha attempts to swallow, to sob, again, it's at the edges of her throbbing throat, but she can't. She can't move, the shock settles in and it's hard to feel or think or process what she's being told. It all hurts. It all has to end or she's going to go insane, she's going to wish she was dead and jump off a roof if Calisto ever lets her go. It hurts. It feels like it will never stop hurting.
Calisto only laughs, walking toward the door and flipping the light switch off, again, drowning the room with darkness once more. "I'll be back when that heals. And maybe I'll have a friend with me."
Even at the edges of unconsciousness, that makes Martha shake and tense an almost stay awake long enough to wonder who. Who else has she got? Who else is going through this and how many are they going to find and what if one of her boys is already here And that thought kills her but it's easier to think about than the blood streaming out between her legs and the fire, because when she closes her eyes she feels the knife being thrust back into her. Again.
Oh God. Don't let them find me like this. Let me bleed to death right now and don't let them find me and please, please make it stop. Make the pain stop. Somebody. Somebody, please. And then despite the fact that logically she doesn't want them here, because if they're here they're going to die and she can't have that, she thinks of them. Doctor, Des, please...
And then there is blissful unconsciousness, passing out from a combination of blood loss and pain, and hoping she won't wake up, again.
When Martha Jones wakes, she is aware of only two things, that her arms and legs are tied above and below her and that she is not wearing a lot of clothes. Hopefully, there are at least bra and panties, but it's impossible to tell.
The room is black.
Silent.
Freezing.
Her head presses back against something hard and cold. She's shivering, partly from fear, partly from the cold, but her shaking breathing is the only sound echoing through the room.
It's been a long time since she's been afraid for herself. Usually, there's not exactly the opportunity for it or there's someone more pressing to be afraid for. Now there's time and silence and her heart rocketing back and forth within her chest so much that it hurts.
Even now she can't help, but let her mind slide away from here. Anything to distract her, at this point. Her boys. The last time she'd seen them they were all drunk and had kissed each other, and now- Her heart twists up mid-rocket at the thought of how much danger they'll be in. Once they find out that Calisto has her. There won't be plans, which is probably just what Calisto wanted. This is probably the end. They're going to get themselves killed and Martha can only hope she won't be alive to see it.
It'll be her fault, that they'll be careening head first into their own deaths or worse. Much worse than dying. She hates that she can't stop them, she can't help them, she can't do anything. She can just stay here and shake and wait for what's to come and hope they gather an army together before heading into the unknown. Make a plan. Find something out before you discover I'm gone. Please. She bites back heavy waves of emotion, try to stead her breathing just a little, to calm down. Not that it matters. There's no one here to hear it or see it in the dark.
Her arms and legs are already sore. The rope cuts into her wrists every time she attempts to move. She's tempted to try frantic pulling, anyway, ignore the pain and the inevitable blood from the rope cutting into her, and hope that a combination of desperation and adrenaline will give her the strength to weaken the rope and break free.
She can't stop shaking. Her skin is covered in goosebumps from the cold and the fear.
Shut up. Be strong. Shut up. Be strong. You're giving her what she wants. You're giving-
"Martha Jones." White light illuminates the room, temporarily blinding her. Not that she needs to see to know who's in the room with her now. It's not like she can't recognize that voice.
Heels tap across tile and Martha's vision focuses in on Calisto's smile. "I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it is to have you in my bathroom."
And that's exactly where she is. A bathroom. In a deep tub, more specifically. Her hands are tied to an iron towel rod behind her and her feet to the pipes at the front of the tub. The rope leaves her vulnerable. No covering up. She's in a bra and panties. At least she's wearing something, but it doesn't keep her from shaking.
Calisto sits on the edge of the tub, wearing only a little more than Martha. It still looks like lingerie. She leans down into the tub and slips her hand behind Martha's neck, pinching sharply. There must still be a bruise there from when she'd choked her earlier. The pain is much more sharp and achy than it should be.
"I guess you're wondering why you're still here. Why I haven't killed you, already, gotten it over with and left your body for someone to find on the road somewhere. Or cut you into pieces and send one of those pieces to every single person that you care about." Calisto tilts her head to the side as if she's seriously considering that, for a moment. "I think the Doctor would like to have your foot."
Martha swallows, even though it hurts to swallow, and she can just barely manage breath when Calisto holds her neck with nails that feel nearly as sharp as razor blades.
Calisto frowns at the lack of response. "This will go so much easier for you if you talk back, Martha." The nails start to cut skin. "Now were you wondering?"
Martha makes a soft, pained noise and finally shakes her head. Not a lot, but enough to qualify as a response and she hates that she can't fight back, but what's the point of trying to fight back or be defiant when it will only result in more pain.
Calisto laughs. "Of course, you weren't. We know each other far too well by now to wonder such things. The truth is I don't need a reason to torture you or anyone else. There are, at least, two from the basement that I've just met today who are proof of that."
Martha's eyes widen. Oh God, who? Before she can stop herself. It's useless. The way her heart sinks deep into her stomach reminds her of that, but-
The demon slips into the tub next to her, leaning against Martha's tightly stretched arm. Her lips press a kiss to Martha's chin. "The truth is... I have reasons for you."
Martha makes a pained noise of protest and Calisto breaks her arm. Just like that. With her bare hands, all her strength, and an arm positioned the right way... Calisto can break bones Martha screams, tears burning her eyelids, unable to think past the excruciating shot of pain burning through her arm.
Calisto slips her fingers down Martha's sternum, between her breasts as the woman screams and heaves trying to catch her breath. It's only when Martha's quiet that Calisto bothers to continue speaking, by this time her hand has slipped down to Martha's stomach, covered in goosebumps, shivering from fear and pain and God, it's wonderful.
"I have many reasons for you being here, Martha, and if I can make you hate all of them before you die, I'll have done my job. Well, that's what we're here for. Isn't it?" The demon plays with Martha's bra strap before she lunges forward to press a hot, sharp kiss to Martha's collarbone. So hard that her teeth press down and cut through the skin.
A little blood.
Calisto licks her lips of the blood and smiles at Martha who isn't looking at her, who is struggling just to breathe and begging someone to put her to sleep.
Her arm. Never mind that her collarbone is bleeding, her arm shouldn't be stuck in that position, screaming at her. Constantly. Over and over. Heart beating, rocketing within her over and over and over...and where's the silence? Where's the dark?
"Let's see, sweets, what are reasons. Well, first, there is the obvious, of course. All of those people in that little basement of yours, look up to you. And I do love showing people the truth. That they're looking up to the wrong sorts of people entirely. The ones who are so easy to break." She smiles slipping her fingers down Martha's waist, tracing her hip bones, absently. "Why do they look up to You? you're human. You're nothing. Just because you came through first and Brando took pity on you. You could have been anyone. And yet, it wasn't anyone. It was you."
Martha wishes Calisto would get her mouth away from her ear and more importantly, her fingers away from her panties, and just- Oh God. Of everything she managed to anticipate happening to her in the moments of silence that came before the light, she had never considered- Not for one second- She's going to be raped by a demon. She'd rather be dead.
And now, for once, she's trying to focus on the words, on the pain in her arm in the hopes that she won't focus as much on the... her fingers. God. Oh... God.
"Then there's the Doctor." Calisto smirks. "He has this incredible arrogance. Don't you think? So convinced that every problem can be solved without violence, somehow stop me without killing me." She laughs just a little at that, pressing her nails into Martha's waist. "He thought he could stop this, too?"
She didn't hear that. She didn't, just the pain making her hear things. "Wh- what?"
"He didn't tell you? Mm. Well. Not that it matters, right? He didn't think it would happen. The point is he's full of himself and you're one of the things that makes him explode and he's absolutely delicious when he walks off the edge in all his firey, glory. And I've decided that I want him to be the one to kill me... which, of course, means the more fun I have with you, the better for me."
Martha can't believe that she's thinking that it's not her that would drive him to that kind of insanity, it's Rose. But she is. Sure, he loves her as his mate, but to kill, because... Maybe she's only thinking of it, because it's so much easier than thinking about Calisto's fingers touching her in ways that she'll never be able to wash herself from.
Calisto lies on top of her and the air leaves her lungs, almost completely. Those biting teeth and powerful lips press against hers and Martha screams, again, into the kiss, because the movement presses her arm down, again, and she's struggling out of instinct, despite the pain. Tears begin to trickle down her face and she sobs against Calisto's lips.
"The final reason, Miss Martha Jones, that you're here and I'm going to have as much fun with you as I possibly can... you didn't bring Brando back."
Martha tenses, eyes flying open in a mixture of guilt and shock and- Calisto looks pissed. As evil as she is, Martha has never seen her look pissed before. For once, the demon isn't smiling, but only nodding.
"Yes, Martha. I know. I ran into your mugger." Who is now bits and pieces and stuffed in some random trash can. "One of his last thoughts was maybe I was punishment for someone he'd killed. Who isn't exactly dead anymore. So yes I know."
And then Calisto slaps her. Hard.
"You bring back him, but not Brando. And you're glad of it. You chose Desmond Descant over him," Des's name comes out in an angry spit, a fury that can't be eased. "And Brando was mine to take. Do you think Des would bother dying for you. He's arrogant and he loves living and yet you throw your life away for him, and not Brando."
"I didn't know I could! I didn't!" Martha screeches, unable to control the words from coming, even if they sound weak and pitiful from the pain and the bruise across her throat, in her vocal chords.
Still Martha knows that even if she had known and she'd been made to choose...
If she'd known saving Brando meant she could not save Des, she would have made the selfish choice. She would have picked Des. "I- I didn't... I didn't know..." It's a pained whisper. It feels as if Calisto's body is crushing hers and before she can make another noise, Calisto shoves a hand over her mouth.
Kill me, kill me, kill me.
"Not yet. Not nearly yet," Calisto has a knife in her hand, pulled it out of her bra, flipped it open and now it's gleaming in that horrid, white light. "You're not a virgin. I'm sure." She's smiling, again, sliding the knife down Martha's sternum and stomach, a lovely little trail of blood. "But I can guarantee you. You've never been fucked like this before."
The knifes goes into her and Martha screams. And in and out and in and out and in and out and over and over and over and- Oh God. Oh God. No. Please. Please, kill me. Just kill me.
Calisto's face is expressionless, but her eyes are absolutely delighted, alight with enjoyment at the screaming, at the blood, and the pain. It feels so good. She keeps one hand on Martha's shoulder, the other's covered in blood. Tears slip down Martha's face and she's sobbing. Thought has left her. It's only pain. Her body is shaking.
"Hope you didn't want kids, sweets," Calisto murmurs, breath like fire against Martha's icy skin.
Unconsciousness starts to hit. Darkness edges at her vision and she's never been so grateful for it. She hopes she doesn't wake up, again. Fire. Bleeding all over, filling up the tub beneath her and she hardly realizes it, because- sobbing. It doesn't. Matter. Just sleep. Dark. Please, give me dark.
Calisto laughs and gets out of the tub before she get s too covered in all of the blood.
"You know. I've always wanted to watch someone really drown in their own blood. Usually by the time they bleed enough to drown in, they're already dead." She smirks, flipping her hair behind her shoulder and using a towel to clean the blood from her legs. "I think I've stumbled across a gem in having such a faulty healer in my hold, don't you?"
Martha attempts to swallow, to sob, again, it's at the edges of her throbbing throat, but she can't. She can't move, the shock settles in and it's hard to feel or think or process what she's being told. It all hurts. It all has to end or she's going to go insane, she's going to wish she was dead and jump off a roof if Calisto ever lets her go. It hurts. It feels like it will never stop hurting.
Calisto only laughs, walking toward the door and flipping the light switch off, again, drowning the room with darkness once more. "I'll be back when that heals. And maybe I'll have a friend with me."
Even at the edges of unconsciousness, that makes Martha shake and tense an almost stay awake long enough to wonder who. Who else has she got? Who else is going through this and how many are they going to find and what if one of her boys is already here And that thought kills her but it's easier to think about than the blood streaming out between her legs and the fire, because when she closes her eyes she feels the knife being thrust back into her. Again.
Oh God. Don't let them find me like this. Let me bleed to death right now and don't let them find me and please, please make it stop. Make the pain stop. Somebody. Somebody, please. And then despite the fact that logically she doesn't want them here, because if they're here they're going to die and she can't have that, she thinks of them. Doctor, Des, please...
And then there is blissful unconsciousness, passing out from a combination of blood loss and pain, and hoping she won't wake up, again.