Title: Power Play
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 10
Prompt: 12, Bondage
Author's Note: Continuation of Hope For the Hopeless.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

"Well done, Doctor." The Master sat up, stretching himself, a satisfied expression on his face. "You never fail to amuse me, you know. Even when you struggle against me, I know you want what's going to happen. You bring it on yourself, you know. You shouldn't be so responsive -- if you weren't, then I'd have to work much harder."

The Doctor turned his face away, wanting to roll over and present his back to the Master. Was it true that he wanted this? Maybe a part of him did -- but only because he looked at this as his punishment for turning his back on what could have been his life. But he hadn't really turned his back, had he? He'd been turned away, though not in so many words.

It didn't matter if he wanted it or not, the Doctor told himself, closing his eyes and trying to relax. This was what he'd given himself over to; it had been his decision, and he would have to live with it. The Master would tire of him eventually, of course, but until then, he could sink into blessed oblivion and forget the past.

The Master ran a hand along his bare hip, moving that hand between his legs to curl around his flaccid cock. "This is definitely the most beautiful body you've ever had, Doctor. I can't see myself getting tired of you for a very, very long time. Especially not when there are so many delightful ways to use you. I've barely begun to scratch the surface."

He didn't want to respond to that touch, didn't want his penis to harden and throb with need. But the insistent stroking hand on his cock was arousing him, in spite of the use that the Master had made of his body only a few moments before. The Doctor writhed under that hand, a soft moan caught in his throat behind the ball gag.

He'd hardly had a moment's respite since the day he'd come here and offered himself to the Master; of course, there was the amount of time that the Master allowed him to eat, sleep and bathe, but that was negligible. And sleep had only been snatched here and there, an hour or so at a time, when the Master wasn't using him as his own personal sex toy.

He hated every second of this, hated the Master's touch, hated feeling the other man inside him, hated the soft, silky voice that alternately complimented and degraded him. The Doctor shifted his hips, wishing that he could pull away from the insistent caress, but his movement was stopped by a hand on his hip, holding him in place.

"You know, I don't think I'm going to give you the pleasure of an orgasm," the Master mused, abruptly releasing the Doctor's cock and leaning back, to contemplate the man lying bound and gagged in front of him. "It would give me much more satisfaction to make you suffer. After all, that is what you're here for, isn't it, Doctor? To hurt. And hurt you shall."

The Master rolled the Doctor over onto his stomach, pulling the Time Lord up on his knees and forcing him to kneel there. His eyes swept over the thin body, smiling as he viewed the fresh bruises marring the Doctor's porcelain skin. Leaning forward, he used one hand to spread the Doctor's thighs, the other to insert two fingers inside him, thrusting forward and probing.

The Time Lord let out a pained gasp when those fingers entered him; he was still sore, his body still not used to the brutal pounding that the Master called sex. Ianto had never done that; Ianto had always been careful and gentle with him when they made love. Resolutely, he pushed those thoughts of Ianto away, trying to concentrate on the situation at hand.

The Master smiled when the Doctor whimpered softly, feeling the Time Lord's muscles tighten around the invasion. Satisfied that the other man was still slick inside from the recent brutal fucking he'd taken, he let his fingers slide out, moving to the side of the room where he kept an array of wicked-looking steel instruments.

"This will do nicely, I think." The Doctor wanted to turn his head to see just what the Master had in his hands, but with his bound arms stretched above his head, he wouldn't have been able to get a clear view. He could feel his hearts accelerating, his muscles going tense and taut. Whatever it was, he knew it wouldn't be something he'd enjoy.

He could feel cool metal against his skin, then the Master's hands just above the small of his back. What the hell was he doing? It took the Doctor a few moments to discern that the other man was untangling a length of rope, threading it through some part of the metal that laid heavily against the curve of his ass.

"Hold your breath, Doctor. This is going to hurt." The Master's voice was pleasant, a hint of glee in his inflection, as though he was giving someone good news that they wanted to hear. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could make his tense muscles relax; one thing he'd learned was that being tense only increased the pain.

The Master's fingers were spreading his cheeks, forcing him open. The Doctor let out a startled scream against his gag when he felt something large and blunt pressing against his sore opening; he tried to squirm away, but the Master held him fast, steadily pressing the large, round object forward until it entered him, eliciting another muffled scream from the Time Lord.

By the time the Master had stopped pushing the cold metal object inside him, the Doctor was sobbing, small fists clenching in their bonds, his body trembling with the effort not to move. He'd been subjected to being fucked with sex toys before, but this was something different. This wasn't merely being entered -- it was being invaded.

He could feel the Master pulling the lengths of rope taut, feel whatever was inside him being pulled upwards. From the feel of it, it was some sort of hook that had ropes attached to it -- and to his horror, the Master was tying one end of the rope around his hands, the other tied to the slim leather collar around his throat.

The Master leaned down to brush his lips against the Doctor's ear, a soft wisp of laughter preceding his words. "You wanted pain, Doctor, so you'll get it. Any movement you make, no matter how small, will manipulate the ball on the end of that hook in your arse. If you think you're sore now .... a few hours of this will have you screaming in agony."

His hand moved between the Doctor's legs, cupping the Time Lord's balls in his palm before squeezing savagely, laughing aloud when the Doctor screamed and tried to move away. His hand slid forward, fingers closing around the Gallifreyan's rigid cock, his thumb rubbing over the tender tip. A smile crossed his face, his gaze feasting on the helpless man in front of him.

"I think I'll keep you like this for a while," he said, his voice smug with satisfaction. "That way, you'll be unbearably sore the next time I take you, and I'll enjoy hearing you scream all the more. Hmmm. There should be one more small refinement before I leave you to yourself for a while, Doctor."

The Doctor tried to keep himself from moving, wanting nothing so much as to writhe and struggle away from the Master's hand on his cock. Each tiny movement of his body drove the metal hook deep inside him, the pressure on his prostate almost unbearable. At least his legs were spread, so he could balance his weight more evenly. There were small things to be grateful for.

That tiny shred of thankfulness disappeared when the Master's hands closed around his thighs, pushing his legs together and binding his thighs with another length of the same rope that bound his wrists. The rope was tied to the front of the leather collar, pulled taut whenever he shifted his weight slightly to make it easier for him to kneel.

"You can't stay still forever, Doctor," the Master whispered into his ear, laughing softly when their eyes met. "Sooner or later, you'll have to move -- and your arse is going to be torn up with every move you make. I think I just may leave you like this whenever I'm not using you. After all, you wanted the pain. I'm only giving you what you've asked for."

He leaned back against the headboard of the bed, contemplating his captive. "That ball in your arse is pressing directly against your prostate, Doctor. I wonder just how long you can hold out without coming? I suppose we'll see .... and you should know that if you do come, you're going to be punished. This will be nothing compared to the pain you'll feel then."

With those words, the Master got up from the bed, turning to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to the Doctor's raised buttocks. He laughed when the helpless Time Lord's ass muscles tensed, a muffled cry coming from him as the hook was pulled upwards. Without a backwards glance, the Master left the room, leaving the bound and helpless Doctor alone.

The Doctor tried to relax and take deep breaths -- but found within a few moments that even a small movement shifted the hook in his ass, pressing the ball against his prostate. He gasped and squeezed his eyes closed, trying desperately to keep his body still. He couldn't imagine anything worse than this -- but he knew that the Master would live up to his last threat.

His arms ached from being stretched above his head, but even the smallest movement pulled sharply at the ropes, pulling the hook upwards and stimulating his prostate. He was dizzy with trying to hold his orgasm back, whimpering against his gag without realizing it, the pain of trying to be completely still almost as bad as the pain that moving would cause him.

How long was the Master going to leave him like this? His heart sank as his mind went back over the other man's words. Hours? Even a few minutes like this was going to drive him completely mad. And there was no way he could keep from coming, not if he was left in this position for hours -- which the Master damn well knew.

He could feel tears rising in his eyes, trickling down his cheeks to soak into the pillow. Crying wasn't going to do any good. He'd asked for this; he'd given himself to the Master of his own free will. He had no one to blame but himself; and if this was the best that he could do, then he would accept it. He had nothing else to go back to now.

He wasn't going to think of Ianto. He wasn't going to think of how gentle Ianto's touch had been, how the young Welshman had made him feel loved and cherished, a feeling he'd forgotten existed. He wasn't going to dwell on how much he'd loved Ianto -- how much he still loved him. It was over. There was no going back. They'd both made their choices.

The Doctor screamed again as an involuntary twitching of his thigh muscles pulled the hook taut, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him. He couldn't keep this up for much longer, trying not to move and failing. And what would happen to him when the Master returned would be worse. Much, much worse -- though a torture worse than this was hard for him to imagine.

The relationship between the two of them had always been a power play -- and now, he'd given the Master the upper hand. Done it of his own free will, walking into a trap with his eyes wide open. There was no Plan B to get him out of here, no way that he could save himself -- or that anyone else could save him. He'd brought this on himself.

He'd made a mistake; he realized that now. Yes, he'd wanted to hurt. He'd wanted to make some sort of atonement for not trying to work things out with Ianto, for destroying what chance he'd had at happiness. But this hadn't been the way to go about it. He was trapped, caught in a web of his own making that he couldn't see any way out of.

He failed to realize that the opaline pendant around his neck was glowing more brightly with each passing moment, almost pulsing in rhythm with his rapidly beating hearts.

***

Next story in series - Rescue Mission.