Title: Pet
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: 5
Prompt: 44, Collar
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.


"Such a lovely little pet."

The Master's voice was smug, triumphant, brimming with satisfaction. The Doctor had to struggle to keep his face impassive, not to wince when he heard those words. Pet, indeed.

He stood still as the Master walked around him, those eyes taking in every detail of his body. He'd never wanted to cower away from anything as much as he did at this moment; he had the sudden urge to throw caution to the winds and cover himself as best he could, refuse to let the Master look at his nudity as though he were some kind of new toy for him to play with.

That was exactly how the Master viewed him, the Doctor told himself sternly, forcing himself to stand still and try to disregard the man who was walking in circles around him and perusing his body like he was buying a prize heifer. As long as the Master didn't touch him, he'd be fine.

He kept his hands at his sides, trying to keep himself calm and not clench his fists. If he did that, the Master would know how tense he was, and that was one thing he didn't want to communicate to the other man. It was almost impossible to force himself to stay stock-still; he wouldn't be able to keep up that facade of calm if he was touched, he was certain of it.

The Master stepped back a few paces, frowning, a thoughtful look on his face. The Doctor wanted to scream, to break the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them. The Master had already gotten what he wanted; he had the Doctor at a distinct disadvantage, thanks to the fact that he'd taken control of the Tardis.

He'd always had his ship to help him before; he'd always had that knowledge that the Tardis was a safe place, somewhere that he could be safe. Now that she was under the Master's control, he was almost afraid of her, thanks to the dark hints that the other Time Lord had been throwing out. He had no idea what the Master had turned her into -- but it wasn't something he liked.

He couldn't feel the bond that had always existed between him and the Tardis -- well, that wasn't entirely true. He still felt it, but not in the same way. It was still there, but it was attenuated; it had become something dark and twisted, something that he didn't know how to restructure. She wasn't his ship any longer. She belonged fully to the Master now.

And there was nothing he could do about it. He was the Master's prisoner, more fully than he'd ever been before. Taken captive on his own ship. If he hadn't been trying to keep any trace of emotion from showing in his demeanor, he would have groaned in frustration -- and anger.

How long would the Master choose to keep him captive? He couldn't know that -- he doubted if the other man even knew. He was certainly enjoying this, the Doctor snorted inwardly, his dark eyes narrowing as he regarded the Master without saying a word. The look on his face, the slight curve of his lips, both spoke of some secret joke, something he was savoring in some inward way.

He probably just enjoyed the sight of his rival naked and helpless, the Doctor told himself, looking down when the Master's eyes moved to his face. He'd already been through too much at this man's hands, but there was no telling what else he'd have to endure before the Master decided that he'd had his fun and departed.

Not for long, though. He always came back, like the proverbial bad penny. The Doctor could never be rid of him for long; he was like a homing beacon for the Master. Whenever the other man had to let out some pent-up aggression, the Doctor was where he always turned -- and somehow, he always managed to fall into whatever trap had been laid for him.

He wanted to demand what the Master intended to do with him, but he already knew -- more or less. He was the Master's plaything, a toy for him to use and throw away when he was done. He'd never been more than that to this man -- and he hated the Master for it. At one time, they'd been friends, but that was so far in the past that he'd forgotten what it was like.

Their friendship had been shattered with the first time the Master had .... the Doctor swallowed hard, wishing that his thoughts hadn't taken that turn. It was never pleasant to remember. He'd been far too innocent for his own good at the time, that was true -- but having that innocence forcibly ripped away from him hadn't done much for his sense of well-being.

That self-loathing had stayed with him for a long time; he'd never told anyone what the Master had done to him, which had probably only added to his sense of isolation. But it was all so long ago now; and what did it matter? Gallifrey and all the people who had known him then were gone.

He hadn't been able to put all of that behind him until he'd met Jack. The immortal had been so much more than just his lover; he'd been the only person who had ever understood him, the only person who'd given of himself completely, without asking for anything in return. No, it had been he himself who'd asked for too much -- and that was why Jack had walked away.

Oh, they were still friends. They were still close, in their own way. There was still a deep caring there, but their physical relationship was far behind them. He missed it more than he would admit, to Jack or to anyone else -- even to himself. Maybe that was why it had been so easy for the Master to get him into the position he now found himself in.

The Doctor was jerked out of his memories when the Master's voice grated on his ears, hoarse and a little breathless. He couldn't keep himself from wincing; the Master only sounded like that when he was aroused. That was one thing the Doctor definitely didn't want, but it was inevitable; he'd known it was coming ever since the other man had told him to strip his clothes off.

"Lovely, Doctor. Absolutely beautiful. You've regenerated into the most perfect body I've ever seen -- if you'd specifically picked this one out just for me, you couldn't have done a better job. Bravo! I'm impressed. Though I'm sure that several other men have been just as taken with you -- and you'll have to be punished for that, you know."

How he hated that voice, that oily, insinuating, almost hissing voice that haunted his most vivid nightmares. This time, he did clench his fists at his sides, not caring if the Master saw what he was doing. What did it matter? He already knew how much the Doctor loathed him.

"You hate this, don't you?" the Master breathed, stepping closer to him and grasping the Doctor's chin in one hand, forcing the Time Lord to look at him. "You hate knowing that I'm looking at your precious body and imagining just what I'll do to you. You hate knowing that sooner or later, you'll submit to me -- whether you do it willingly or not."

"Whatever you get from me, you'll have to take by force," the Doctor ground out between clenched teeth. "You know I'll never give in to you of my own free will. You might be able to get the response you want out of my body, but you'll never get it from my mind. And until you can control that, you haven't won, now have you?"

"Oh, I'll take what I want from you," the Master told him, his voice still sounding pleased and not a little triumphant. "You can be sure of that, Doctor. And eventually, you'll learn to enjoy it. In fact, I think you already do. You simply refuse to admit it. A pity, really, because I could make things so much easier on you if you'd only tell me what I want to hear."

"Never." The Doctor was proud of himself for sounding so firm, not giving the Master any indication that he was trembling inwardly, waiting for whatever was coming next.

"Then I'll simply have to force that admission out of you, won't I?" the Master said with a leer. The Doctor had to force himself to stay still; the Master's eyes had moved to his crotch, and he'd never wanted to cover himself so badly. His composure was starting to fray at the edges, and he was certain that the Master was only too aware of that fact.

He didn't answer the obvious taunt; what good would it do? He wasn't exactly in the position to defend himself in any way, and trying to use words as weapons was a dangerous proposition. The Master held all the cards at the moment; not only had he taken the Doctor prisoner, but he also had the Tardis. Until the Doctor had his ship under his own control again, he had to tread carefully.

He could sense rather than see the Master turning his back, going to another part of the room behind him. It worried him that he couldn't see what the other man was doing; there was no telling what that twisted mind was going to come up with next. He could only hope that it wouldn't hurt too much -- and that whatever it was wouldn't weaken his resolve not to give in.

No, he couldn't give in. He had to hold on to his determination not to let the Master break him; that was all he had to hold on to. Eventually, he'd manage to turn the tables -- as he always did. But for now, that determination was the only straw that he could grasp at to keep his sanity intact -- and keep himself from completely breaking down.

The Doctor let out a soft sound of surprise when he felt something slide around his throat; the Master's hands were pulling it into place, and he had to force himself not to pull away. It was pulled tight around his throat, constricting his breath for a few seconds.

Was the Master intending to strangle him? The Doctor's blood seemed to freeze in his veins, but that thought was quickly erased when the pressure around his throat loosened. He realized a moment later that the Master had fastened a collar around his neck; there was no mistaking what it was when the other man moved in front of him, a chain in one hand.

"It's such a novelty to have a pet," the other Time Lord smirked, reaching out to attach the chain to the collar encircling the Doctor's throat. "Of course, if my pet doesn't show well-trained obedience, then I have the right to punish him -- don't you agree, lovely?"

The Doctor didn't answer; he merely gritted his teeth and averted his eyes, avoiding the Master's gaze. The other man reached out to grasp the Doctor's chin, forcing the Gallifreyan to look at him and smiling insolently. "Strike one, Doctor. You should know that when I ask you a question, you should always answer. It's a basic rule of obedience."

"If you expect me to obey you, then you'll have a long wait," the Doctor growled, his small fists clenching at his sides. "You should know by now that you can't force me into anything, try as you might. You may be able to take me by force, but you'll never own me. How does it feel to know that you'll never have what you most want?"

The Master's hand flashed out, catching the Doctor on the cheek and snapping his head to the side. The Doctor's teeth sank into his lower lip as he fought to keep himself from crying out; it wasn't that the blow had hurt so terribly, but that it had been so unexpected. The Master dropped the chain, going back to the part of the room behind the Doctor and out of his sight.

The Doctor could feel the short hairs on the back of his neck prickling; whenever the Master was out of his sight when they were in the same room, that usually wasn't a good sign. He tensed, waiting for whatever would come next, wondering what form the retribution for his slight show of defiance would take.

He found out within a few seconds. The Time Lord almost gasped aloud when the Master pulled his hands roughly behind his back, crossing his wrists and binding them together with what felt like a length of rough rope. At least he could have chosen something a bit more comfortable, the Doctor thought to himself, trying to move his wrists to test the strength of the ropes.

He regretted that movement as soon as he made it; the bonds were cruelly tight, rubbing the tender skin of his wrists raw with the slightest movement. He could feel a knot forming in the pit of his stomach; at least before, his hands had been free. Now, he was well and truly defenseless.

The Doctor stared straight ahead of him, not wanting to give the Master the satisfaction of knowing that a tendril of fear was snaking through his body. That would be the first step towards breaking down -- and it was something he wouldn't allow himself to do. Not until he was pushed so far past his limits that he had no choice.

The Master reached for the chain attached to the collar, winding it around his hand and yanking at it. The Doctor was pulled forward, barely managing to keep himself on his feet. Another unexpected movement like that, and he'd be on his knees -- or sprawled on the floor. He still didn't look at the Master, the knot of fear in his stomach growing. There was no telling what would happen now.

He was pulled towards the door, nearly reaching it before the Master turned to survey him. He didn't want to face that sardonic look, those eyes that roamed over his body as though he was nothing but a piece of meat.

That's what he was to the Master, he reminded himself, trying to keep his expression impassive. No matter what, he wasn't going to let this man know just how afraid he was. That impassiveness was the only protection he had -- and he intended to use it as well as he could.

It might be scant protection, but at least it was something. And for the moment, it was all he had to cling to. All he could do was hold on as tightly as he could, and pray that he didn't have to let go. If he did, then the Master would have won. And he couldn't let that happen.

"Come along, lovely," the Master crooned, one hand twining through the Doctor's hair and pulling him forward at the same time that he yanked on the chain again. "I've got something quite special planned -- well, special for me. What you'll think of it remains to be seen -- though I doubt you're going to be pleased. Oh, well. You'll just have to make the best of it, I'm afraid."

The Doctor gritted his teeth, trying not to make a sound as he was pulled along the hallway. He wasn't keen on finding out what the Master had planned -- and whatever it was, he hoped that he'd be able to hold on to that small piece of himself that he hadn't been forced to surrender yet.