Title: When the Whip Comes Down
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 50_darkfics
Prompt: 96, Writer's Choice - Whip
Warnings: non-con
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or the Master. Please do not sue.


"Ah, Doctor." The Master looked and sounded entirely too satisfied as he paced around the Doctor, looking his captive up and down as though he was a prize stallion on the auction block.

Which was exactly what he felt like at the moment, the Doctor thought to himself, trying his best to keep his expression impassive. This wasn't the best of situations to be in, but if he kept a cool head, he'd be able to extricate himself from it.

He'd had no choice but to turn himself over to the Master -- if he wanted to keep the planet they were on, and all the humans on it, alive and well. The Master knew just how to play to his main weaknesses -- and Earth was the biggest one.

The other man had always sneered at him about his fondness for humans, told him that they were nothing more than cattle and that his fascination with them was absurd. But the Doctor had always ignored his words, pushing them vehemently away from him.

"You've really been rather a fool, haven't you, sacrificing yourself to me for the sake of a planet full of humans?" the Master said, raising his brows in question as he stopped pacing to stand in front of the Doctor. "How will you get yourself out of this mess, hmm?"

When the Doctor didn't answer, the Master shrugged, tapping the whip that he was carrying against one knee-high leather boot. He was a bit overdressed for the occasion, the Doctor told himself sourly, considering his own state of undress.

He deliberately kept his eyes averted from the Master's face, his gaze fixed on the wall behind the other man, not allowing their gazes to meet.

The Master's hand reached out with the swiftness of a striking snake, his fingers clamping around the Doctor's chin and forcing the Time Lord to look directly at him. The Doctor had to struggle to suppress a shudder when their eyes finally locked.

He could see the madness in that gaze; he'd known since they were children that this man had been driven to that madness by the same tests that he himself had gone through unscathed. He could only be glad that the same madness hadn't also claimed him.

But this man had been his friend at one time; true, they'd been children, with very different lives from the ones they'd led for centuries. Still, he couldn't control a part of him deep inside that wanted his friend back, a part of him that desperately wished things could have been different.

There was no use in wishing for the impossible, he told himself, trying to keep his face a mask, as emotionless as a brick wall. He didn't want the Master to guess that he was cringing inside, trying not to imagine what the other man intended to do to him.

The Master's grip tightened, his voice sounding impatient -- and more than a little angry. "It's no good trying to pretend that this isn't happening, Doctor, or to try and shut me out. I'm in your blood, whether you want to admit it or not."

He stepped back from the Doctor, dropping his hand from the Time Lord's jaw, tapping the whip thoughtfully against his palm.

"You know, Doctor, I could keep doing what I've been doing for the past few hours, just to hear you scream," he said slowly, his lips curving into a smile that was more of a sneer. "But I don't just want you to scream, you see. I want you to surrender."

His gaze was thoughtful as he moved back a few more steps, his eyes raking the Doctor's nude body from head to toe. Almost negligently, he flicked his wrist, the whip snaking across the Doctor's nipples before the Time Lord realized what was happening.

He couldn't hold back a gasp; a shudder went through his thin body, and he had to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep from crying out. No, he wasn't going to do that, not unless he was forced to. He wouldn't give the Master that satisfaction.

The Master stepped closer to him again, leaning to whisper into the Doctor's ear. "Just imagine how that would feel between your legs, Doctor. I haven't wanted to damage you too badly yet -- but that decision can change at any moment."

This time, he knew that his fear showed in his eyes -- he'd felt the sting of that whip across his ass and his back enough times tonight to know that it was capable of inflicting terrible pain -- and the thought of what the Master could possibly do to him was chilling.

He didn't want to think about the damage that whip could do to the more tender areas of his body. His nipples already smarted from the stinging blow, and he knew there would be worse to come.

"You're my slave, Doctor," the Master whispered, his voice silky, but with a hint of steel under the soft tone. "You might as well admit it. Out loud, if you please. I own you. Say it, Doctor. Say it, and I might decide that you've had enough for tonight."

The Doctor wanted to struggle against his bonds, but he knew that was useless. With his ankles shackled to iron rings soldered into the floor, and his wrists bound above his head, any movement would be instantly noticeable.

He wasn't going to say what the Master wanted to hear, no matter at what cost to himself. That would be to admit defeat, to debase himself completely and utterly. He wasn't a slave -- not to this madman. And he'd never let the Master own him.

The whip flicked across his skin again, lower this time, across his stomach. The Doctor clamped his lips together, refusing to make a sound. He'd not cry out until the pain was too much to bear -- no matter what it might cost him.

"You're determined not to give in to me, aren't you, Doctor?" The Master was behind him now, that silky voice reverberating in his ear. "You know what I could do to you, don't you? Doesn't that frighten you, at least a little? You know how it's going to feel -- how it's going to hurt."

He drew in a breath, conscious of the other man moving behind him. What was he doing? The short hairs on the back of the Time Lord's neck prickled, his muscles tensing.

The Doctor was sure that at any moment, he would feel the sting of the whip across his ass again, the backs of his thighs, his lower back. His skin was already reddened from the first brutal whipping he'd taken; he was sure the Master would enjoy continuing.

He'd been wrong; there was no slash across his skin, no burning sensation. There was only the quiet of the room, the silence straining at his already taut-strung nerves until he wanted to scream to relieve the eerie pool of quiet that fell around the two of them.

A few seconds later, pain exploded behind his eyes, finally drawing the Master's desired cry from his throat. The feeling seemed to slice through him, ripping his body into glittering shards, scattering pieces of him through the dim room.

The Master laughed, a low sibilant sound, as he pushed the thick braided handle of the whip further inside the Time Lord, twisting his wrist as he pressed it forward. "Say it, Doctor. You're my slave. You belong to me. Say it, and this will stop."

The Doctor drew in a lungful of air, only to let it out again in a cry that was more of a sob when the whip pressed deeper inside him. The words bubbled up in his throat; he had to say them, even though he didn't want to. He didn't mean them. The Master must know that.

"Y-yes." The word trembled on his lips, falling into the room unbidden. He didn't mean it, the Doctor thought, wanting to call it back, make it unsaid. But it was already out.

"Good boy." The Master patted his shoulder, his breath hot against the Doctor's skin. "You do belong to me, Doctor. In your hearts, you know where you belong. You've always been mine. It's lovely to hear you finally admit to that."

No, the Doctor thought, bucking his hips forward to try to escape from the pressure inside him. It wasn't stopping; the Master wasn't living up to his word. But when had he ever? Trusting him was always a mistake. He should know that by now.

He let out a soft cry, wanting to beg the Master to stop, that he'd had enough, that he couldn't take this torture any more. Anything to make it end. But he didn't dare show that kind of weakness.

"You want this to stop, don't you?" the Master whispered, pushing the whip more deeply into the other man. "I know, I said it would stop. But you know me, Doctor." The whip twisted inside him, bringing another cry to the Time Lord's lips, along with another laugh from the Master.

"You didn't say what I wanted to hear, Doctor," the Master's voice continued as the pain between his thighs intensified. "You should have said that you were indeed my slave in so many words. If you had, it might have stopped. But you know that I don't always keep my promises."

The Doctor shook his head, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. He could feel the Master's mind pressing into his, pulling out the thoughts that he'd tried so hard to keep hidden, searching out what he didn't want anyone to find.

"Ah, you're much easier prey than I thought you would be," the other man purred, tilting the Doctor's head back to stroke long, cool fingers against his throat. "So much is in your mind, Doctor. So much that I can use."

"You promised," the Doctor managed to gasp. "You said you wouldn't go into my mind. You gave me your word." Even as he spoke, he hated himself for saying the words. The Master shook his head, smiling, his own words whispered and full of satisfaction.

"I lied." The words spun in his head as darkness rushed at him in a dizzying whirl.