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Doctor Who: It's Short For Mistress

It was five shopping days until Christmas and Clara had decided to get herself a present.

Danny had been gone for months and the Doctor almost as long; she knew nothing could fill the void in her heart that Danny had left, but there were other voids. Her vibrator had been good for them, but one overnight trip in the TARDIS and the Doctor had cannibalized it to build a Zygon detector. She needed a new one and it was time for her to stop feeling sorry for herself, go out, pick one up, and fuck herself silly.

In Clara's experience, when it came to sex shops, there was a spectrum between scummy and militaristically political. She preferred the political ones, even if they spent way too much time trying to draw her into lectures about the exact differences between bisexuality and pansexuality, and so went to the same place she and Danny had frequented. She resolved not to feel any shame. She was a normal woman with a normal vagina and if she wanted to put a few things in it, that was her business.

She went through the door, reminding herself not to feel shame. The only thing to be ashamed about was feeling shame, and she didn't. She just walked in, looked to the counter, and saw Missy giving her a cheery wave.

"Hello dearie!" Missy called, doing a hate crime of a Southern accent. "We have a special going on anal beads, you know—how lovely. Or perhaps a nice knock-out beam?"

The next thing Clara knew, she was hitting the ground.

***

When she woke, she was tied, of course. Time Lords didn't do anything by half-measures. She was in a dungeon, stripped to her underwear, her body crisscrossed with cords to hold her in a suggestive position. If that didn't come as a shock to her, this surely did—tied up across from her was Amy Pond, four-time winner of the Universal Most Legs Award.

She was dressed, insofar as she was dressed, in something a die-hard Fifty Shades of Gray fan might wear to a midnight premiere. A leather bodice with built-in corset, the thong riding high between her thighs (really, her labia—shaven, naturally), the bust low-cut but connecting to a choker around her neck. Opera gloves and thigh-high boots, made of the same shiny black leather, completed the picture.

"Okay, I'm really not too sure about any of this, but isn't the dominatrix supposed to be the one who isn't tied up?" Clara asked.

"That's the issue you wanna take with this?" Amy asked. God, her accent put Clara's to shame. Clara felt like Gwyneth Paltrow holding a conversation with Kate Beckinsale. "Amy, by the way."

"Yeah, of the Ponds. The Doctor talks about you all the time. Tidge annoying, kinda endearing."

"Him all over, yeah? And you must be this year's model."

"Clara Oswald," she said, trying to sound full of self-esteem. "The Impossible Girl."

"Girl Who Waited," Amy replied.

"Who'd keep you waiting?" Clara asked. Was she a natural redhead? Judging by what she could see of that very revealing bodice—yup. "That outfit is, well, completely catering to the male gaze and encouraging an unrealistic depiction of S&M, but you are rocking it."

"Thanks! You look good too."

"Oh, these old things?" Clara bit her lip as she looked down at her underwear. It didn't even match. "Can't believe I got snatched on laundry day."

"Yeah. Laundry day. No, don't listen to me, you're gorgeous. Your face is truly unfair."

"Oh, God, don't go complimenting me piecemeal when you're the complete package! I mean look at you! Is that a thong in the back?"

Amy looked over her shoulder. "Yup."

"I bet your ass looks great."

"It's okay."

"Oh, don't be modest. Do your thighs have any cellulite? I can't see any on them. I've seen aliens with more attainable physiques."

"Yeah, but what about your boobs? Sure, say you don't like your bra, but that just means those knockers are all you!"

"A leg man would definitely go for you."

"Who goes for legs anymore? It's all about tits these days! Sure, I'm a model, I'm all slender, but do you know what I'd give for curves like yours? I bet you've got a backside a black guy would go for."

"Thank you," Clara said with a sniffle. Danny had always liked her butt. "Wait—how'd you get out of 1920s New York?"

"Twas I!" Missy said, coming down the stairs. She, thankfully, still dressed like a cabinet member of the Ministry of Magic, and not any kind of Torchwood person. "Amy, meet Clara, Clara, meet Amy. And you won't believe how I arranged myself this little tête-à-tête."

"Time-traveled somewhere else, then took a taxi?" Clara guessed.

"Exactly."

"Told him that would work!"

"So what's the game?" Amy demanded. "Hold us hostage, lure—" Clara loved the way she said 'lure', it was awesome, "the Doctor into a trap, take over the universe, blow up Vulcan...? Am I missing any of the Powerpoint slides here?"

"Not even close!" Missy cried with a derisive laugh. "No, no, I just noticed Clara here was looking a mite lonely since the Doctor left her high and dry, and her boy toy went and blew up—"

Clara's voice became all bitterness. "You killed him, you crazy—"

"No, I turned him into a robot, then he killed himself. Please, let's keep these things straight, time travel is confusing enough as it is. And Amy here I just felt sorry for, stuck in pre-war New York, probably couldn't find any nice dykes to explain the facts of life too. So I decided to bring you together for a little play date. I know, I know, it's silly—like some daft old lady marrying her cats. But I'm very bored and this beats killing another Osgood. Yeah, the bloom comes off that pretty quick."

"We're not going to shag each other just because you tell us too!" Clara cried, still incensed on Danny's behalf.

"We're not?" Amy asked. "We're not."

"Oh, are ye sure?" Missy asked, wagging her head with her fake accent. "The two of ye were getting along so famously, too. How about I promise to put Amy back with her husband just as soon as she makes you come? Would that help you with your decision-y-wision-y?"

Clara closed her eyes, trying to force down her rising gourd. "You swear? And no tricks? She goes back safe and completely satisfied with the deal?"

"Well, the satisfaction is up to you, my dear. You can probably sixty-nine if you like..."

"No, Clara," Amy said firmly. "You don't have to. We can just hold out, the Doctor will rescue us."

"Oh, dear me." Missy tapped her chin. "I wonder how many unfortunate souls have thought that to themselves before I killed them?"

"It'll be fine," Clara assured her fellow companion. "Just finger me, I promise I won't enjoy it. Or I will enjoy it, but not to an extent. A weird extent. I'll just be sort of okay with it, like I am with the X-Men movies."

"Well, that doesn't sound like it's keeping with the magic of the holidays!" Missy cried. "I think I'd best help you find your Christmas spirit."

She stripped out of her conservative blouse, stepped out of her skirt. Underneath, she wore a crimson babydoll, barely long enough to hit her upper thighs or high enough to cover her breasts, with white fur trim responsible for what censorship her crotch and nipples did receive. Black mesh stockings decorated her long, lush legs—they were patterned with reindeer and snowflakes—and spiked heels made her seem even taller and more impressive. As Clara watched, Missy popped a Santa cap onto her head. She looked like Mrs. Claus at a key party. More terrible than ever, yet more beautiful than Clara had ever realized. It hit her like a jolt, the damn gay feelings—Missy really was one good-looking woman.

"Now, what do you think? I know you're quite the whore," Missy said in the same friendly voice as ever, "so please let me know, in your professional opinion, if this is the sort of outfit a man would like to come all over. You would know, is what I'm getting at."

"You would want to know!" Clara retorted, and Amy let out a mocking, agreeing laugh.

"Well!" Missy said. "If that's the way you're going to be about it..."

She got another rope from what seemed like a rope closet. One end she fit in a loose loop to Clara's ankles, Clara desperately trying not to fear what was coming. Her feet were already tied together—what was the meaning of this? Then Missy tossed the rope up to the rafters, looping its free end around a ceiling beam.

Next, she went to a set of literal ball and chains. They were big ones, with forty-five pound weights the size of cannonballs. Missy manhandled the first to where the rope hung—tied the free end of the rope into a loop much like a noose—then lifted the weight up and attached the manacle to the length of rope.

Thanks to the improvised pulley of the rope hanging off the ceiling beam, the weight pulled Clara's feet upward, spilling her onto her ass with her ankles a few inches off the floor.

"Now now," Missy chided in a honeyed tone. "Let's get those sweet cheeks in sight!"

She attached another weight to the rope and Clara was pulled horizontal. Another and her feet were pulled upward at an angle. Clara couldn't help herself from moaning, aware that being hoisted up in this invisible hammock now had her ass in the air, fully displayed to both Missy and, embarrassingly, to Amy. She felt the scrutiny of her Doctor's first, perfect companion being able to see the most unflattering angle imaginable of her body—all the holiday weight she'd put on, every gram of it.

"Now there's a festive sight!" Missy enthused. "Though I am disappointed in you, Clara—I thought you'd put up more of a fight than this! As long as you're in a submissive mood, I'd best take advantage of the occasion!"

"Missy, please, no!" Clara screamed as Missy enthusiastically jerked her panties away from her buttocks.

The indignity of feeling her panties removed, not by herself, but by Missy's capable hands, was overwhelming. There was no way for Clara to adequately conceptualize the total humiliation—it seemed to blank out her mind, only rearing its head when she tried to force her mind away from the feeling of embarrassment. To be completely bared before Amy, by Missy no less—she wanted to shrivel up and sink through the floor. At least then her plump buttocks wouldn't be so obscenely visible.

She tried to hold herself still, but she couldn't refrain from tensing up, knowing with prophetic certainty that she was about to absorb Missy's red hot punishment.

"You don't have to hurt me, I'll do any—"

It was too late. Missy cackled with glee, lashing out with open palm time and time again to paddle Clara's bottom. She didn't even give Clara the dignity of fully removing her panties, but left them awkwardly wedged underneath her protruding buttocks as if to draw even more attention to her pinkening ass.

Clara writhed in mid-air, her embarrassment outweighing her agony as Missy slapped her jiggling ass. Worse yet, the spanking rolled through her body to her full breasts, making them bounce and leap with the force of her punishment. Missy even carefully stood out of the way so that Amy could see every iota of their struggles to escape the insufficient confines of her brassiere.

"Missy! Please stop!" Clara cried, begging as if she were a child being bullied at school. "Please don't hurt me! I'll do what you want!"

She still couldn't believe it had happened. Her tender, untouched bottom, which had never known such violence, was now receiving a baptism by fire. Missy's palm felt as if it were traveling a hundred miles an hour, completely flattening her cheeks with every deafening swat. She couldn't be a heroine about it. She screamed and kicked her legs, but it just made her jiggle even more, exposed her cunt as well as her ass.

Missy circled her victim like a hungry tigress, lashing slap after slap at Clara's helpless form. She was becoming aroused as she turned Clara's bottom from pale to wine-stain red, getting wetter than she had in years. She thrilled at the thought of turning this girl from Companion to personal slave and bitch, to a pet, really. An obedient little pet.

Clara squealed with pain, thrashing in hopeless, despairing shame. Her full buttocks burned and stung and hissed with a heat that was compounded by every fresh smack and its attending wave of anguish. She cried salty tears that blinded her vision and overheated her cheeks. Her pride totally vacating her, she begged like a miserable child to be spared just the smallest moment of her ongoing punishment.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she moaned. "I can't stand it! I'll do anything! Only please, please stop!" In her hysteria, she imagined Amy watching, smirking and giggling and enjoying herself like some bitch from secondary school.

"Anything?" Missy asked. She'd stopped to rip Clara's panties away, tucking them into her askew Santa cap as a souvenir. They smelled of wet cunt.

Clara's bottom was a sheet of flame that stoked the pain and exhaustion and humiliation in the rest of her body, leaving her breathless and sobbing hard. "Please... please..."

"I think you know what I want!" Missy said with a keening laugh, lifting the hem of her babydoll away from her bare, glistening cunt. "So what is it you want, baby bird, cheep cheep cheep..."

"I'll eat your pussy," Clara sighed, overcome with the relief of the pain being on hold, almost luxuriating in the lingering burning that served as proof Missy was no longer spanking her. It wasn't hard at all for her to look up at the imposing Missy with adoring, pleading eyes. "I'm good with my tongue, Missy! Really! You can ask anyone! If you let me eat your pussy—it's such a pretty pussy, really it is—I'll make you feel so good!"

"Clara, no!" Amy cried, but Missy silenced her with a look.

"Oh my!" she said, turning back around. "What an amusing thing to say!" She laughed, once, at the shattered woman's pitiful begging. "And here I thought you were so classy. I mean, they let you teach children. But really, you're not just a slut, you're a lesbian! As! Well!" She punctuated her last few words with a series of back and forth slaps to Clara's still raised buttocks, leaving her unprepared body in even more pain than before.

Clara cried and shuddered, but that only excited Missy more, and she grabbed a girthy handful of Clara's red buttocks. "Tell me more, slut! Tell me why I should let your dirty human tongue touch my brand new pussy."

"Because I belong to you!" Clara gasped, painfully aware of every inch of her sweaty body—all of it defenseless before Missy. "You own me! My tits, my pussy, my mouth, they're all yours! Just tell me what to do! Please tell me what to do! I'll do anything!"

Missy stared at Clara's body, displayed and made vulnerable by the pose she was in. Clara's eyes were alight with pain, submission, lust. She let down the rope with a simple snap of her fingers, dropping Clara on her ass. Before Clara could even start to moan, Missy had straddled her pained face.

Clara had been in such pain, and such arousal, that the stop-start of the spanking and the release of her suspension had brought her to the brink of orgasm. Then she felt the wetness and warmth of Missy's cunt smearing itself all over her face.

"Eat your dinner now, dearie," Missy moaned, rocking herself upon Clara's head as if it were a horse. "Clear your plate or you won't get any dessert!"

Clara didn't see that she had any choice—the persistent thought of 'dessert' hung in her mind, even over her trembling fear of more punishment. Missy had to be aware of how aroused she'd made Clara, just by driving her to such extremes of sensation and then leaving her aching on the precipice of more. The inescapable thought was that if she made Missy come, the Time Lady would reward her with the relief of orgasm.

She opened her mouth and tasted, more than anything else, just allowing Missy to grind down on her reluctantly extended tongue. She wasn't sure if she liked the taste as much as she did that of cock, but the sheer degradation of being made to eat out this mortal enemy of the Doctor's had her squirming with reawakened lust. Her body ached horribly, but the feelings being kindled in her swollen pussy overpowered her exhaustion and pain.

Missy moaned and slapped herself against Clara's trapped face, ecstatic just from the brushing of Clara's pitched breath against her cunt. Something about the fact that it was the Doctor's little helper monkey being broken to her will made Missy jerk and twist with pleasure. She loved having that pretty face all over her pussy.

Clara herself moaned with pain as Missy's womanly hips bucked against her face, turning her head into a basketball being dribbled against the stone floor. She slithered her tongue into that clutching, moistening pussy and Missy went even wilder, her liquid pleasure washing over Clara's mouth in a wave that seemed like it could drown her.

"Mmmm... time for dessert, I'd say. I get a little self-conscious when my little angels aren't enjoying themselves. Ginger, why don't you come over here and play with a normal-colored pussy for a change? My offer still stands. As soon as Clara comes—and I've gotten her all warmed up for you, too—you'll be back home."

Amy pulled her hands down from the bondage rack she'd been suspended on, surprised with her sudden freedom. She stared uncertainly at Missy's enthusiastic riding of Clara's face.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't. But either way, you'll have gotten to visit the Grand Canyon. That's not so bad, is it?"

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Clara wondered.

"She's not that loose," Amy said, going to Clara as she continued helplessly, almost wantonly licking and kissing Missy's pussy. Those gazelle legs of hers knelt down between Clara's spread thighs, Amy smiling nervously at Clara's flaming ass, and then she started on foreplay. Pulling and rubbing at Clara's pussy with one hand, surprised at how strongly it pulsed, how wet it had gotten.

As her own sex ran hot with excitement, Clara squirmed her face into Missy's frothing cunt. She fucked her tongue deep inside the humid depths of Missy, urged on by Amy's exploratory caresses as a stallion would be by a little clip of the spurs.

"Now here's a good little whore!" Missy gasped, practically bouncing atop Clara's face like a pogo stick. "Oh, I wonder if that's why the Doctor chooses you. It's like he's practically begging me to fuck you! You're making me come, puppy, you cute little baby Stick that tongue way up deep now! Lick my beautiful cunt! You wrecked your own, now try and wreck mine!"

"Hers isn't wrecked!" Amy insisted, "If it was, I'd be able to slip all four fingers in without a warm-up..." And Amy, attempting to demonstrate how Clara's sex would resist such an invasion, instead found herself fucking four fingers deep into Clara. "Oh. Oh, wow. Well, I bet I can't get past my wrist..."

Clara cried ecstasy and despair into the soaked recesses of Missy's cunt.

"Bloody hell," Amy swore, finding her forearm disappearing into Clara like it was a magic trick. She smiled, a bit embarrassed, a little impressed at the same time. "Goodness. You've had some fun there, haven't you?"

From solidly between Missy's legs, a chiding cry of "Amy!" could be partially made out, muffled as it was by Time Lady cunt.

"I'm not teasing!" Amy protested. "I'm... very in favor of women's lib and pro-sex and whatever else they call it in your time period. But it's just that my goodness! You know? River didn't even stretch me that much!"

"Well now!" Missy exclaimed. "You are a dark horse, aren't you Pond?"

"I meant giving birth to her, ya wanker."

Clara's flicking tongue found Missy's clit. She attacked it like it contained all her lust, all her need, like she could either dispel the hateful energy coursing through her or force it to completion. Missy bucked and twisted with lust, her enthusiastic swaying swinging the hem of her lingerie around like a pendulum, flashing her bare body underneath so that the garment resembled a cape more than any other garment.
At the same time, Amy tore at Clara's cunt, fucking her fist deep inside it, pulling back Clara's labia with her other hand, second set of fingers slipping inside like she wanted Clara's folds stretched paper thin.

Amy smiled as she felt Clara clench, however weakly. It was almost endearing, having that vacuum trying to pretend it was still a proper pussy. "Oh, lordie—you get off on this? Real secret like, wouldn't admit it for all the tea in India, but you proper love it, don't ya?"

"It certainly seems that way from up here!" Missy said, now grinding her hips down on a tongue that seemed to have a life of its own.

With the lingerie flying out of the way, Amy could see Clara shake her head, which elicited a hyped up moan from Missy.

"Oh, sure, you act like you don't," Amy continued, "but every time I teased, I felt you. Just this bare little twinge deep at the back, all the way in the nosebleed section of your slack cunt. Not much at all; you really are blown out. But I definitely feel something."

Missy hoisted herself off Clara, diddling herself now with two fingers, thumb on her clit, inches from Clara's face. "Oh, shit, this is a damn sight better than that useless tongue of yours. Be a good little doggy! Make yourself useful! I wanna hear it!"

"Hear what?"

"You know what!" Missy moaned. "Let me hear it or I'll spank you so hard, you'll have a flat ass for once in your miserable life!"

Clara shut her eyes, hating herself for giving it, hating that her blushing submission, in front of Amy no less, truly was tightening her cunt as far as it would go. She felt like, once more, she couldn't take a twenty-inch cock. "Oh Missy, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind, hey Missy—" Handcuffed, she had just enough space to clap her palms effectively. "Hey Missy!"

"Oh fuck, I loved doing this with my old body! The one thing I made sure to keep when I regenerated!" Missy gasped, her well-preserved body rocking with a string of firecracker climaxes. Each one made her squirt, a wash of cum depositing itself time and again on Clara's face. "You're not going back to Coal Hill, Oswald! Such a fucking waste for a slut like you with a body like yours to work in some fucking school! You've got a nice apartment--!" She came, Clara desperately closing her eyes as it slapped her in the face. "A car! A fucking motorcycle!" Just as Clara opened one eye, more cum washed over her face. "I checked your bank statement! You've got more than enough money for us to have fun for a long time!"

Clara whimpered at the thought. Missy wasn't just talking about world domination or destroying the universe—something the Doctor would stop. She was simply talking about Clara's life. Her paltry, insignificant life. She would steal it, just like she had Clara's chastity, her self-esteem, everything in her personality and character but a groveling slut who hungered for sex and punishment.

Amy's fist was still inside her. Her other hand, though, was probing at the entrance to Clara's ass. She figured that maybe Clara's pussy was so wrecked that she hadn't even tried to find someone to replace Danny Pink, but there was no way her ass could've been similarly destroyed. It just didn't fit with the kind of people the Doctor brought on board. She herself had been quite innocent, practically virginal when she became his companion, and although she'd learned the pleasures of throatfucking and analingus with Rory (as well as all the nice things he could do to her), that had been almost synonymous with her slow detachment from the TARDIS and building of a new, married life. So, while it could be that Clara's pussy had been fucked away at like miners digging through a coal shaft, she very much doubted that Clara was so totally debauched as to have received the same treatment in her mouth, on her breasts, or up the butt. So she thrust her middle and ring finger inside Clara's asshole, and felt the puckered ring of muscle hug her knuckles. She loved being right.

Ironically enough, an orgasm tore its way, painfully, sweetly through Clara's aching body as she realized how completely debauched she was, not knowing that Amy would've considered this little more than foreplay.

"And I can always whore you out for walking around money," Missy moaned, her orgasms beginning to slow. She kept her cunt doing a slow dance with Clara's face. "Hell, what if I turn your apartment into a whorehouse. Get a few more friends like Amy to whore with you! Even if that cunt of yours is useless, I could still get rich off of men fucking your tits! There's a good girl—good, good girl..."

Missy grabbed Clara by the hair and ground herself into Clara's mouth, coming right into it, apparently with the thought of being a madame to Clara's whoring. Clara's mind shattered with the thought of being whored out, turned into literal gutter trash. And she came again and again, thinking not of her old life, but of a long line of strangers discovering like Amy had that she was literally a gigantic whore.

"Tomorrow we'll trot you out and get you some new clothes, won't we precious?" Missy said, wiggling her ass as she used Clara's once carefully made up face as a simple depository for the juices dripping from her sex. "Bikinis and corsets and garters and such. The kind of clothes a slut like you needs to keep men interested. I know I shouldn't, but I just love dressing up my pets in cute little outfits!"

Clara kept her lips planted tightly around Missy's labia. She gulped cum down as quickly as she could, drinking down every drop Missy squirted, thinking over and over again that she was a cunt-lapping whore now. She was getting off on it, and the more of a whore she was, the harder she got off.

"And guess what we're going to do tonight!" Missy whispered, as if she didn't want anyone to overhear the surprise. She squirmed with excitement upon Clara's slack mouth. "A little high school reunion, as the Americans might say."

Amy was lashing her tongue deep inside Clara's cunt, lapping up the cream that was running down her tensed forearm while increasing the pressure of her fingers in Clara's asshole. It tasted good, even knowing that it had more to do with Clara's humiliation at Missy's hands than with, well, Amy's hands.

"Remember all those young minds you shaped and nurtured?" Missy asked, her voice throaty with enjoyment as Clara's talented tongue worked inside her, not even trying to please her, but just because Clara loved being a whore so much. "I'm going to grab as many of them as I can. I've even tracked down a few who've switched schools. They're going to be your first customers, Clara! You're going to teach them one last thing—that if you love your job, you'll never work a day in your life!"

Clara's face was sticky with Missy's pleasure now. It dripped from her chin and rolled down her cheeks. She wagged her tongue as deep as she could inside Missy, gathering more to swallow. She tried not to think of all the boys she had taught, tried not to wonder what they would look like now, calculate how many of them would have big enough dicks to satisfy her, if she could even be satisfied by human cocks anymore. She tried not to think these things, but it felt so good to humiliate herself with the ugly speculation.

Amy's hands were soaked with her juices. More splashed out, drenching Clara's shuddering ass as it puddled underneath her. Clara jerked her hips up into the air as though Danny Pink were wrecking her pussy once more, and while Amy held one fist still to feel that vestigial tightness of Clara's arousal, four fingers on her other hand knifed into Clara's ass faster and harder.

With a tiny moan of desperation, Amy balled her hand into a fist and drove it brutally side by side with its counterpart. She bit down on Clara's clit at the same time, and Clara wept bitterly as a powerful climax rocked her body—all but her slacken cunt.

"I swear, I really am trying to torture you!" Missy said apologetically, still dragging her wet pussy all over Clara's pretty face. "I had no idea you'd be such a bad, bad dog as to get off on it. Perhaps I'd best whip your slutty ass to pieces. Surely that would be too much of a humiliation for you to enjoy..."

It didn't seem that way. It seemed there was nothing Missy could do to her that Clara wouldn't enjoy, so long as it held the same disdain that Missy had always felt for her. And Missy decided to test that, slapping Clara's head away from her cunt, dropping down to straddle her restrained body. Clara gasped with shock, horror, pleasure as Missy kissed her, smashing their lips together hard, driving her tongue into Clara's mouth. She squirmed with a million conflicting feelings as Missy moaned with the taste of her own juices on Clara's lips, strong hands closing on Clara's large breasts and mauling them more roughly than any man ever had.

"Hot little bitch, isn't she?" Missy gasped to Amy, trapping one of Clara's long legs between her lush thighs. "Used to have a man, guess he really fucked her slutty. Shame he went and died. She could've used a well-hung husband. Can't imagine a bunch of random johns will be able to satisfy her. Well, besides knowing that I'm literally selling her ass. Filming it too. It's why I invented the internet, after all. Do you like that, Clara? Being in internet porn, so your family and friends can see what a whore you are too? I mean, I'm sure you'd feel shitty, making them pay to fuck you, but this way they can know what a slut you are and you won't have to foul up the relationship with a bunch of materialistic crap. Good dog, good dog!"

Now both women were coming, and Clara clutched at her cruel lover as if she were hugging the world's sweetest friend.

"Pretty little Clara!" Missy gasped in orgasm. "You finally got your shag, didn't you? You finally got your big ass fucked right into the dirt like Danny used to do."

"Yes!" Clara whispered, her voice shaking. "In the dirt, right where I belong—thank you Missy!"

Missy turned over, grabbing Amy by the hair—so long, like a leash—and hauling her to her cunt as she lolled atop Clara's beaten body. She came again, having to force the squirt out this time, but savoring the look of mixed disgust and passion that filled Amy Pond's face. It was a look she wanted to keep seeing for a very long time.

And Clara smiled too, a tiny orgasm quaking through her body as she watched Missy douse Amy with cum. She was tired and pained, but she was looking forward to the cocks that would fuck her, the men who would use her. She was a slut, she knew now, and she deserved everything she was going to get when she got everything she deserved.

She closed her heavy eyes and couldn't get them open again. Her breasts, her sex, her anus, they were all laden with sensual, sexual feelings. But it had stopped. Why had Missy stopped Amy from sucking her to a tremendous climax? Why had Missy stopped at all?

More aroused than ever, she passed out.

***

Clara woke up in what, shamefully, she mostly recognized from The Lion King: a savannah. She was naked, and outside the bare stone of the dungeon, the dirt she laid on clung to the sticky residue of her come, Missy's come, possibly some of Amy's as well—she had dreamed of being rutted against as she slept.

She raised her head, wondering disconcertingly if her waking urge to urinate had anything to do with all the girl cum she had drunk. The sex shop, incongruously enough, was smack dab in the middle of the nothing that surrounded her. Missy's TARDIS, she guessed. The Time Lady herself stood in the door, checking her watch as if she'd been waiting for Clara to come to for a while.

"Oh, Clara, hi buddy. Welcome to Africa in the sixteen-hundreds. You ever go into a room and then forget what you came in for? Well, I can't seem to recall why I time-traveled here, but it seems as good a place as any to drop you off. I know Amy wants to be with her husband—she gets so attached, the poor dear—but your hubby's dead, so I can't see it making a difference to you."

"What about..." Clara had a vague sense she shouldn't let herself sound disappointed. "Forcing me into prostitution? For my own students?"

Missy nodded thoughtfully, as if Clara had brought up a good point at a town hall debate. "Here's the thing: that sounds like a lot of work. Did you know that's against the law and whatnot and people will arrest you for it? Silly, right? It all seems a bit daft now that I think about it. I'm bored of you—it's not like I can stretch your cunt any bigger—so now that I've healed all those wee little psychological scars you had from your man going to the happy hunting grounds, I need to release you to fly free with your healed wing like a glorious dove! And there'll be a lot of black folk around, not that you're into that or anything—" Her voice lowered to an exaggerated whisper. "But since it's just us girls, you don't have to pretend with me. You're welcome." She winked.

"But... my clothes... my flat..." Clara was more confused than ever, though an insistent part on her was urging her to take the win and run as fast as she could from Missy while she had the chance. "Don't you want to fuck me with a strap-on?"

"Oh, I did. Didn't you notice? Oh well. I was great, I just want you to know. Well, I'm off. Oh, remember to wash your tattoo, keep it hydrated, apply ointment, lotion—this probably won't be a problem under the circumstances, but don't wear any tight clothes."

"Tattoo? What tattoo?"

Missy shrugged and Clara started to look over her body, checking her arms and legs for any sign of modification. As she heard the vworp-vworp of the sex shop disappearing, she craned her neck to see her ass.

There, covering one cheek, was a retro logo—the king of endearing throwback you might see on a craft beer. Missy's face was in profile, grinning toward the viewer, with a thumbs up next to her face. The whole thing was circular, and in an arc opposite Missy, to close out the design, was a wordy header, with a subheader to fill out the dead space of the logo.

MISSY GRADE-"A" CERTIFIED

Guaranteed to take any size cock, no problem!

Animals a specialty!

Clara thought it was a good thing that the Doctor she'd fancied was regenerated and gone. There was no way she'd ever be able to explain that to him.

short   mistress   it's   doctor   for  

May 5, 2018 in anal

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