Title: Maze of Madness
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 50_darkfics
Prompt: 56, Madness
Author's Note: Continuation of Heavy Metal.
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.


"The Tardis and I have both been waiting a very long time for this, Doctor," the Master almost purred as he stepped closer to the Doctor, gazing into the bound man's face. "I'm going to so enjoy watching her take you -- and destroy the bond you have with her."

"This is madness," the Doctor gasped, struggling against the metal cuffs that held his wrists above his head. "The Tardis doesn't want me. Not in that way. If she had, she would have taken advantage of me centuries ago. You're out of your mind."

Was the Master right? a voice in the back of his mind questioned. Was there a kind of sexual tension that existed between himself and his ship? Nonsense, his more rational mind told him firmly, pushing the thought away before it could completely crystallize.

He had never felt that kind of an attraction -- but that didn't mean that the Tardis hadn't felt it. And now that he was in an admittedly beautiful body .... a shudder went through him; he closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to make the idea dissipate into nothingness.

"You're not fond of that idea, are you, Doctor?" The Master's voice grated on his ears; he wanted to scream at his captor to be quiet, so stop saying things that had to be patently untrue. He didn't want to hear this kind of madness, not from the Master, not from anyone.

"It doesn't matter whether I'm fond of it or not. It's not true," the Doctor snapped, trying to marshal his courage and fight back, with words if not in a physical sense. "Let me go, Master. You're never going to achieve what you want. The Tardis won't hurt me."

"Oh, she'll do whatever I want her to do, Doctor," the Master whispered, leaning close to his captive and staring into the Doctor's eyes. "And I'll enjoy hearing every whimper. I'll enjoy hearing you beg her to stop -- or beg me to make her stop. Whichever comes first."

The Doctor could feel his blood chill in his veins; was it possible that the Master has managed to sever the bond between himself and the Tardis to the point where he controlled the ship completely now? He had hoped that wasn't so, but it could be true.

The Master walked around him, his gaze moving up and down the Doctor's nude body. The Time Lord had to force himself not to follow that movement with his own eyes; he didn't want the Master to see his fear and uncertainty, though the other man could probably sense it.

The Master had an uncanny way of knowing just how he felt; maybe they were connected in some odd way through their Time Lord mentalities. But he had always rejected that idea, not wanting to believe that the Master could be part of him in any way.

He gasped involuntarily when he felt a hand on the small of his back; that hand moved downward, sliding over the curve of his buttock to cup his ass, then squeeze firmly. The Doctor had to hold back another gasp -- though he couldn't keep his hips from leaning into that touch.

"Your body wants this, even if your mind is resisting, Doctor." The Master's voice was soft and silky now, with a touch of smugness to the tone. "Maybe you've been wanting it all the time you've been alone here on the Tardis. You simply didn't want to admit to that desire."

"There is no desire," the Doctor said through gritted teeth. "And no matter what you say, the Tardis doesn't want me. Not in that way." He hoped that what he was saying was the truth, and that the Master hadn't somehow managed to twist and pervert the bond he and his ship shared.

But what if he had? The Doctor's hearts seemed to skip a beat; if the Master had indeed taken over the Tardis as completely as he seemed to think he had -- and the Doctor had no reason to doubt that -- then his words could very well be the truth.

He gasped when he felt something cold and hard press against him from behind; he had no idea what it was, but a soft laugh from the Master assured him that whatever was going to happen wouldn't be pleasant. He was starting to have a very bad feeling about this.

"She wants you, Doctor," the Master whispered into his ear, his breath warm against the Time Lord's cool skin. "And she'll have you. I doubt that she'll be very careful about whether or not she causes you any pain, either, considering how you've mistreated her at times in the past."

The Doctor swallowed hard, his dark eyes widening despite his attempts to keep his face impassive. What was the Master saying -- that the Tardis intended to do him harm because of imagined slights in the past? Certainly not. His ship wasn't that vindictive.

And especially not towards him. The very idea was madness, something born out of the Master's need to control and dominate him. This man was trying to engender fear in him; he knew that fear was the quickest and easiest way to wield control.

"She's been waiting a long time for this, Doctor," the Master whispered, his lips brushing against the Time Lord's cheek. "And I've finally given her the freedom to take what she wants from you, instead of merely being content with serving you. As it should be."

The Doctor wanted to protest, to tell the Master that this was impossible, insane. He must be truly mad; there was no way that the Tardis would harm the man who she had forged such a close bond with. He couldn't let himself believe that his ship would actually hurt him.

But was this still his Tardis? that voice in the back of his mind asked softly. She was under the Master's control now; there was no telling what she was capable of doing to him. And it was true, he had mistreated her at times in the past.

She would more than likely remember every time that he'd ever slammed a fist down onto the console, every time that he'd ever aimed an epithet at her. She would coalesce all that into an anger that the Master would fuel until it was burning with incandescence.

He could feel his dual hearts starting to beat faster, the fear rising in him like a living thing that wanted to claw its way out of his body and escape. But there was no escape, not for his fear, and not for him. He would have to bear whatever was going to come.

The cold smoothness was pressing against him more insistently now; he could only guess at what it was, but he was sure that the Master would take great pleasure in letting him know what was going to be done to him. He only had to wait for his captor's next words.

"She'll do anything I tell her to do, Doctor," the Master whispered, his words chilling the Time Lord to the core. "If I told her to keep going until you were dead, she would. As it is, I think I'll just let her cause you as much pain as possible. It's less than what you deserve."

The Doctor caught his breath; he barely had time to register what had happened before the cold hardness that had been pressing against his entrance pushed inside him with a forcefulness that took his breath away, not even giving him time to scream.

He couldn't catch his breath; whatever was being pushed inside him was longer and thicker than he'd thought it was at first, and it was invading his body in a way that nothing else had ever done. It took him a few moments of shocked silence to realize why that was.

The Tardis was pressing inexorably into his body, making the object of her entrance larger by the moment. He could feel himself being stretched, opened, forced in a way that he had never in his wildest dreams thought he would ever have to endure.

The pain coursed through his body, bringing a scream that he didn't dare utter aloud to his lips. He wanted to let that scream come out, but he couldn't; it would give the Master too much satisfaction, let him know that he did indeed control what the Doctor was feeling.

If he let that scream be heard, then he would be tacitly surrendering to the Master's control -- and he would never allow himself to do that, no matter how much pain was inflicted upon him. However long this lasted, he would hold back any sound. He wouldn't break down, wouldn't give in.

Despite his best intentions, the Doctor couldn't hold back a gasp as the cold metal intruded further into his body; the next thrust forward shattered all of his careful self-control, eliciting one scream, then another. And still another with each successive thrust deep within him.

Now that the screams had started, he couldn't make them stop. And he knew from somewhere deep within the haze of pain that surrounded him that he would keep screaming until this ended, losing himself in this maze of madness until he spiraled down into a welcome oblivion.