Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 35

She wasn't going to be able to help herself. This was a fact, as impending a part of her future as the collar that lay beside her on the tabletop, always within view when she turned her head to face the balcony's railing. The view there was what she gravitated to, as Sander began to pick up his pace, the open, false sky of the arcology, the city she had spent so much time in, that she would be seeing from the vantage point of a slave. How different would Selestene, even the world as a whole, look while wearing a collar and leash?

How would it look, with Sander's- her new Master's- cum dripping down her thighs?

Oh yes, that was going to happen. She wasn't going to win Sander's challenge, she wasn't going to be able to pick and choose what happened to her, because she could already feel the distant rumbling of her brewing orgasm. The sting of his fucking, stretching her ass without mercy or hesitation around his cock, brought the strange, fulminating pleasure of it into sharp relief, as though her body were protesting against what she was feeling. His thrusts were hard now, lube and insistence opening her up to the point where he could fuck her at his own pace, and Clara forced herself to relax and allow him in.

She wasn't going to win, so she could at least maximize her own enjoyment.

One hand remaining at her neck, tangled in her dark hair, Sander's free hand slipped down, stealthily, between her legs. One, two, three fingers pushed inside her all at once, and Clara would have arched up off of the table if Sander hadn't been stronger, capable of holding her down with ease. She groaned into the wood, as he stretched another of her holes, as deeply as he could, as quickly as he could.

The position didn't lend itself to the best leverage, but that didn't matter; Clara as barely able to keep her composure just from having a cock in her ass, and the addition of finger fucking was a challenge she simply was not able to surmount. She simply let herself go limp, moaning freely, constantly, and incoherently, as Sander took her. If anything, he picked up speed at this, fucking her harder, invading her pussy to a chorus of wet sounds, curling his fingers against sensitive sots that Clara didn't even know she had.

Her body coiled tighter and tighter, muscles alternately screaming with the strain and simply being taut, as another wave of pleasure-pain swept up her from below. And then...

Clara came. Clara shrieked. The city listened.

There was no barrier to soften or dampen the sound, just open air to carry her paroxysms of ecstasy out into the arcology, into the ears of countless anonymous listeners, no doubt immediately pricked up at the sound of a woman in orgasm. And Clara couldn't muster the mental energy to care, as her entire body was seized with rapturous tension; all that mattered was the moment, the moment she fell, her last few seconds as a free woman draining away into the ether as she shook, and clenched, and came.

The collar was in her future, coming closer every second, and here she was, drenching Sander's fingers with her juices, the stains of her arousal. Her pussy adhered tightly to his probing fingers, as he continued to fuck her in both holes simultaneously, forcing her to ride out every wave, every spasm of desperate desire that gripped her. She went blind to the world around her, blind to everything except the man behind her, stretching her out, pushing so deeply into the very core of her. She shook with it, trembled in climax, her nipples scraping against the smooth, now warm wood below them, adding yet another texture to the varied experience of quaking through a loss, cumming into slavery, losing her freedom with every wave.

The storm of sensation released her with one last jerk, echoes of the former feeling ringing through her hips. Clara simply lay there, shaking, panting for breath while allowing herself to recover. Her muscles ached the pleasant ache of satisfying exertion, her legs untrustworthy, potentially unable to hold her weight if she tried to move. This had all happened so suddenly, her orgasm had come upon her so much more quickly than it usually had... but then, was that so surprising?

Sander had been watching her specifically, he had seen how she behaved in the bedroom. Was it that unlikely that he would have learned her tells, the things he could do to drive her wild? She had met the man as a product of a meticulously plotted Hobson's Choice, been dragged along in his wake ever since, so the idea that he might have planned even the sexual elements of today wasn't so farfetched. The idea that she ever had a chance against him?

Now that was farfetched.

Sander moved away from her then, his fingers slipping out of her as his cock retracted, eventually popping out of her ass entirely. Clara heard him moving, tracked him by the sound as he slipped around the table, eventually ending up ahead of her. As she looked up at him, he placed his hands, palms flat, on the tabletop, and smiled.

'I win, Oswin,' He said, and it struck her in that moment that he hadn't even finished himself, hadn't cum, he'd just... gotten her off, and pulled out right after. Had this even been a sexual act for him? Or had it just been a way for him to win over her once more, a way for her to walk right into slavery herself, rather than being roped into it, inch by inch, by pressures she couldn't control.

'You... you did,' Clara panted, still not fully in possession of her breath. She felt so very naked, suddenly, so exposed in the city that had just heard her getting tricked and fucked by... whatever Sander turned out to be. He practically loomed over her, and in that moment she thought there was nothing outside of his reach, no person beyond his power. He had brought her into this so easily...

'That's "you did, Master,"' He growled, and one hand rose, only to fall upon the collar that lay between them now. 'Now sit still, Oswin...'

She could only crane her neck and allow it to happen; what other option did she have? Sander slipped the cool metal around her throat, and with a click that happened almost too abruptly, too rapidly, the collar had closed around her throat.

'Command: Do not attempt to remove your collar, or to otherwise allow it to be removed, until otherwise commanded by an authorized user,' Sander said, the words droning out as though they had been well practiced. He stepped away from her at that point, and Clara knew full well that the words were seeping into her mind and, more importantly, into the software that lurked at the heart of the Command Collar, which recorded each and every detail, committing them to a memory far longer and more accurate than her own.

There was no escape...

'Welcome to the crew, Oswin,' Sander said, helping her unsteadily back to her feet. 'I'll be discussing your role in things to come rather soon, but for the moment, I have better things to do, and you're coming with me.'

'Where are we going?' Clara asked, adding after an uncomfortable pause. 'Master?'

'I need to go and pick up your fellow slaves,' He replied. 'Want to see what happens, if you disobey me?'

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

To be continued...