Amy’s first thought upon waking was of just how tired she was of waking up naked in her cell. Her second thought was of just how tired she was in general. She felt as though her skin was paper thin, and that any strenuous movement would tear her open.

When she tried to lift her head, she found that moving at all made her shake and tremble in a rather disconcerting way, and she laid back down quickly to stop the feeling. In the brief glimpse of the cell she had seen, Sander featured prominently. He was sitting down at the foot of the bed, back leaning heavily against the wall, head tilted up towards the ceiling. He didn’t look great; his eyes were darkly ringed in a way that offset the otherwise sickly pallor of his skin. He turned wearily to look at her.

‘Well, well… You’re back among the living,’ he said weakly. ‘That’s good.’

Amy’s eyes narrowed as the hazy recollections of her last conscious experience drifted through her mind, as substantial as fog. Even so, certain things stood out; Shimizu turning the Arclight up to eleven. Sander stepping in to stop it. The actual tactile sensation of the Arclight when it was fully unleashed. None of it was entirely pleasant.

‘You?’ She said in a quiet, weak voice. ‘You saved me?’

Sander nodded, ‘Yes. I’m sorry. Shimizu’s gone. I sort of banished her. I guess she was more unstable than we realized. She would have killed you, if we… if we had been delayed a second more.’ Sander lowered his head into the palm of one hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re SORRY? Why? I thought you wanted me hurt?’

‘I never wanted you dead, Amy,’ Sander sighed. ‘That’d be just as bad as what… It’d be bad. I’ve dismantled the Arclight system and collapsed the signal field that targets you. I shouldn’t have put you through that. I’m sorry.’

There was silence, as Sander closed his eyes and swayed in his seat, clearly at the mercy of some kind of internal conflict. Amy regarded him expectantly; it was clear that she had missed a huge chunk of information while she had been out, and she wasn’t about to say anything to Sander right now to assuage any guilt he may have been feeling over what had happened to her. Suddenly, he raised his head again and stood up.

‘You’ve been sleeping for two straight days. Well, for a forty-eight hour period, there’s no day/night cycle here. You’re likely to be very weak, but that’s natural, given what you went through. You’ll probably want to keep sleeping, but you need to resist that urge, for now. You need to eat something, and get some clothes on. We’ll be leaving soon.’

‘Leaving? Where?’ Amy felt a familiar dread growing within her, the same dread she had felt every day of her captivity. Whatever Sander was planning would undoubtedly be unpleasant.

‘We’re going on vacation, Amy,’ Sander clapped his hands together, attempting to muster some form of energy. ‘The Doctor’s coming here, he’s pissed that Shimizu tried to kill you. We’re running away. Just temporarily. Mara’s gone on ahead, she’s setting up some new relays to misdirect him. Anyway, if we’re not here when he gets here we doubt he’ll come back later. The plan should be back on course in a few days, a week on the outside, but until then we can have some fun while we flee.’

‘Where are we going?’ Amy quavered.

‘Sorry, Amy. Can’t tell you, but we need to leave in an hour. You know where everything is, but if you need any help, then please-‘ His dark eyes captured her own, and there was genuine concern there, ‘-call out. I’ll help you.’

Sander left the room before Amy could say anything else. She sighed, and swept her legs off the bed. So, they were running away? That was interesting. Finally, a real hope of rescue.

Of course, before all that Amy still had to contend with her recalcitrant body. She had felt strange while keeping still, but when she tried to walk Amy realized exactly what Sander had meant by “very weak.”

Her legs simply wouldn’t support her. At least, not on their own. She found that if she leaned most of her weight against any available sturdy surface, she could drag herself along. Her muscles felt as thought they had liquefied, and she wondered what kind of damage Shimizu’s torture had done to her, and whether it would be permanent. Either way, she knew she couldn’t continue like this. Swallowing nervously, she called out for Sander.

The door slid open almost immediately. It seemed that he had been waiting outside. Someone was feeling guilty…

‘What’s up?’

‘I need your help…’ Amy mumbled. ‘I can barely move on my own.’

‘Of course,’ Sander moved, putting an arm over her bare shoulder and guiding her gently back to a seated position. ‘You should be back to normal by tomorrow at the latest. If you take care of yourself, that is. We’ll have about a day in transit, so you can relax for a while.’

‘Thank Christ…’ Amy exhaled. Her greatest fear was that Shimizu had done something to her brain that couldn’t be reversed. She didn’t know how the Arclight system worked, but nothing in her experience with it so far had been incredibly pleasant.

‘Here,’ Sander tossed a bundle of clothes onto the bed. ‘These seemed a little easier to get into than… Uh, all the other stuff…’ He gestured at the offending closet. It was odd; now, all the slick confidence and happy energy had flowed out of him, leaving an exhausted-looking awkward person in his place. Amy wondered exactly how bad he felt about the other day. He helped her to put on the loose-fitting clothes, but every time he touched her he sort of flinched, as though she might shatter like glass.

‘So…’ Amy began as Sander slid a large, billowy shirt over her head. ‘You said you switched off the Arclight?’ She couldn’t help but sound hopeful.

Sander shook his head, ‘Not just switched off. I broke down the field. It’s gone for good.’

‘How can I trust you?’ Amy pouted.

‘You can’t usually, but you can on this. There’s no way for me to restart the Arclight. I’d need to reformat the system, take a completely new template of your brain, code an entirely new strike program and put the signal field back up. I should never have used it in the first place. You could have been killed.’ He looked away.


‘Look, we’d better get going. We’re wasting time, which is… confusing, since the guy chasing us has a time machine.’

‘You. He’s chasing you. He’s rescuing me,’ Amy said in a low voice. Sander frowned.

‘Not if I have anything to say about it. Now, come on,’ He took her hand and, supporting her bodily the whole way, the two of them left the cell. They passed through numerous identical hallways, under countless identical fluorescent lights. Sander had constructed his base from uniformly constructed pieces; it wasn’t much to look at, but it didn’t need to be. It kept in the air and all the machinery ran just fine, that was all that mattered.

Ultimately, they reached a large, heavy steel door, studded with rivets. Sander leaned Amy against the wall and, with a grunt, twisted the handle and pushed in with his shoulder. The door opened with the sound of metal squealing against metal. Amy was moved into the airlock beyond, and the door was closed.

Sander moved to the opposite door, ‘Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass,’ he explained. ‘But it’s better than opening a door out into space.’

The other door opened out onto the interior of a shuttle, but not a very good one. That said, since Amy had lived all her life in a time devoid of space travel any kind of spacecraft was impressive. In Sander’s mind, the shuttle was entirely utilitarian, just a way to get planetside if he ever needed to. For Amy, it was entirely futuristic because, well, it was the future.

The shuttle was little more than a white box illuminated by strip lighting at floor level, with a bank of seats at either side. Two black leather pilot’s chairs were bolted to the floor at the opposite end of the ship, each looking over an array of controls and a large screen that was currently blank.

Sander guided Amy to a seat and strapped her in before striding across the floor to the pilot’s seat.

‘Be with you in a second,’ He called over his shoulder, swiveling his chair to face the controls. He wriggled his fingers. Despite all that had happened to him, Sander was still a technician at heart. Space travel, robotics, any technology made his mind spin with possibilities. His hands descended, working to the beat of furious typing.

In this day and age, even cheap ships like this one had automated options for easy trips. Mara had been conscientious enough to program the shuttle with coordinates to follow her planetside. She was the communications expert; she knew where to go to best fool the Doctor with her startling array of wireless relays and gadgetry that Sander could only guess at. He had laughed when she had told him where she intended to go, and then grinned evilly when he realized what she was suggesting. Mara could be incredibly evil, but she had some fantastic ideas.

The city of Chroma, planetary capital of Theros. He had been there once before, almost three years ago to the day. He had been distracted with his plotting then, but he had to admit that the place was incredible. At night the entire city glowed with neon light. And right now Chroma was in the grips of its biggest celebration. They would have fun there.

The ship disengaged from the airlock with a series of mechanical noises, the slight force of acceleration pushing the occupants back in their seats. Sander yawned as the ship slid away into the darkness. There were no windows, which would be decorative but ultimately useless. Excepting the screen, there was no way to see out. It didn’t matter; Sander didn’t intend to spend his time staring out into utter blackness.

‘Okay, we’re off,’ He said, sliding out of his chair and heading to the aft of the ship. ‘Now, I simply must get some sleep. Mara’s been gone and, what with you being unconscious and the base needing constant attention, I’ve been up continuously for two days.’

‘That’s… dedicated,’ Amy sighed.

‘Yeah, well… Don’t get any cute ideas while I’m sleeping. You don’t know how to pilot a spacecraft, so anything you do to the controls will probably kill us both. Besides, they’re isomorphic, so it won’t work for you. There’s food in the strongbox,’ He pointed at a large metal box that was bolted to the floor. ‘Also, you need your rest too, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to sleep yourself.’ He grinned, ‘Don’t worry; I won’t do anything untoward if you do sleep. I don’t need to.’

Sander dropped heavily into the seat opposite Amy, strapped himself in, and relaxed. It was amazing what two continuous days of sleeplessness will do to a person; Sander could feel pieces of his brain floating away. The ship could handle itself for the day of flight at near light speed. Besides, it would wake him if it needed him.


Eventually, the ship did wake him, with an insistent, low buzzing tone issuing from the command console. Sander yawned, his hand groping blindly for the seatbelt release catch.

‘Good lord…’ He mumbled, pulling himself stiffly from his seat. Amy slept opposite him, looking oddly peaceful. Here she was, en route to an unknown alien world at the behest of a pair of kidnappers, and she was out cold. Maybe she had taken a bigger hit than he realized.

He drifted over to the console and switched on the screen. Their destination dominated the image, a sea of sparkling lights blinking endlessly across the surface of the soot-black planet. Theros was a planet that was always awake; there was always someone there willing to pay for what the vendors were selling, as distasteful as it was.

Theros had started out as a separatist colony that had voluntarily left the control of the Terran government and set up shop in a then-unoccupied corner of the galaxy. Of course, being a new colony with no concrete, enforceable laws, it attracted a large criminal element willing to pay for asylum from whatever it was that they were running from.

In the face of this, the new Theros government had two options; on one hand, they could accept a reputation as a criminal haven, with all the implications that had. Evidently, this option had not interested them.

Instead, they had opted to transform Theros into a non-stop commercial and entertainment hub where anything-and more importantly, anyone- was for sale. The criminal element still flocked to the place, particularly Chroma, but now they came to permanently set up shop, driving an intense tourist trade. There were plenty of people willing to pay large sums of cash for things they couldn’t get on law-abiding Terran worlds.

And Theros was there, with a smile and an outstretched hand. Sander could appreciate that kind of barefaced business dealings. Compared to business on Terran worlds, this method seemed almost… honest.

Sander set the shuttle into landing mode, gained the correct clearance to land in one of the commercial spaceports, and stepped back out into the hold. His foot kicked out, clanging loudly against the hull. Amy jerked awake, eyes shooting open in a daze.

‘Wake up,’ Sander said. ‘We’re coming in to land. You need to get ready.’ His hand went to her seatbelt, unclasping it quickly and lifting Amy to her feet. She was able to stand under her own power now, which was a relief to both of them. Having to spend the entire trip clinging to Sander did not strike either of them as particularly fun.

‘What do you mean, “get ready?” Amy asked sleepily, rubbing at her eyes.

Sander grinned, ‘We’re going to attend a party, Amy. A huge one. You can’t go out looking like that!’ He gestured to her loose, colorless clothes.

‘A party, huh?’ She replied flatly.

Sander nodded emphatically. What he called a party was actually a Chroma institution, a citywide festival to celebrate the founding on the city. Of course, since Chroma was essentially a huge, city-sized, neon-tinted brothel, this festival was somewhat more debauched than others.

Sander gestured to a large duffel bag that he had stowed to one side of the hold, ‘There’s some stuff for you in there. Put it on.’

‘What if-‘

‘Amy, you’re still wearing the collar. No arguments, or I will use it, y’know?’

‘Alright…’ Amy sighed. She was becoming very familiar with this particular defeated sigh.

Fishing around in the bag revealed that Sander was done with comfortable, loose-fitting clothes. In fact, he may have been done with clothes altogether; if Amy had to ascribe a name to the contents of the bag, that name would be “underwear,” and even that was dubious.

She wheeled around, ‘Oh, now come on!’ She snapped. ‘You can’t expect me to go out in public dressed in these!’

‘You bet I can!’ Sander stared back blankly. ‘Just watch. Command: Put that shit on, Amy.’

Amy whined as her body complied with the order. That damned collar!

Sander had picked this outfit- if one could call it that- especially for this occasion. There would be a lot of people on the streets of Chroma, and a lot of them would be traveling with sex slaves. Sander intended to stand out. Well… He intended for Amy to stand out.

She stripped off her loose-fitting clothes, barely even conscious of her audience any more. Sander had to resist his impulse to simply bend her over and fuck her right there, but he knew that it would be worth it in the end. Patience would yield some incredible rewards, here in Chroma. It wouldn’t take long for the shuttle to descend through the actually rather thin atmosphere to the surface of the planet itself, but in the midst of the descent itself he could barely feel it. Stabilizer systems: gotta love ‘em.

There was a reason Mara had chosen Chroma. Sexual slavery was entirely legal there, operating as a form of business transaction. One just had to remember that Theros had no traditional legal system. If you were careful, and made sure that someone on the outside knew that you were there and could come look for you if you disappeared, the planet was the holiday destination of choice for a certain class of decadent person. Chroma also had facilities there that were far more… specialized, than Sander’s asteroid base. He grinned, almost salivating at the prospect.

Amy turned, sheer fabric fluttering around her, and stared defiantly at Sander, hands on her hips. She looked even better than Sander had imagined; clad in a gauzy, light blue nightie, pale skin glowing beneath the transparent material. The slightly darker blue of her bra accentuated her breasts, and her panties practically flowed across the smooth curve of her hips. It was only becoming harder to resist the urge to bend her over the seats.

‘That… isn’t everything, Amy,’ Sander said haltingly, shaking his head to remove the prurient thoughts that were settling in.

‘I know!’ Amy exclaimed hotly. ‘But I’m wondering what kind of party requires that I dress myself like this, and wear that other stuff!’

Sander tilted his head to one side, not really understanding the question, ‘Uh, an awesome one?’ He answered. ‘Seriously, though. Finish it up.’

Amy gave a wordless, frustrated growl as her eyes misted up. This was too much!

Her hand delved back into the bag, producing the objects that had so repulsed her. One, a large, red leather collar, she clipped around her neck. A leash dangled from it, down between her breasts.

‘I get the leash,’ Amy hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Kinky, Sander. Really. But I wouldn’t even know how to begin using this thing.’ It flashed white in her hand. ‘What kind of party is this?’

Sander laughed, standing up to help her, ‘Think of it as Mardi Gras Plus, okay? Only kind of sleazy and weird. But also fun!’ He grinned.

Sander took the mask from Amy, his free hand gathering up her long tresses of ginger hair and winding them closer to the back of her head. The straps descended as he raised the white mask to her face, catching up her hair and pinning it in place.

The faceplate of the mask was… interesting. The interior featured a dark mesh that covered the eyeholes, making it hard to discern anything particular about the environment. Worse still, the mouth featured a sculpted cock gag that seemed to grow out of the mask in a single, uninterrupted piece. Amy opened her mouth obediently as the artificial member pressed against her lips; she realized that non-compliance was pointless. Even so, she gave a startled “mmph!” as the gag slid over her tongue, pressing it against the floor of her mouth. It filled her jaw, just barely missing the back of her throat and hence her gag reflex; the stretched position was vaguely uncomfortable, probably exactly as Sander had intended.

Finally, he stepped behind her, gripping her wrists firmly and pulling them up into the small of her back, where he locked them together in a pair of steel cuffs. A chain dangled from these new restraints, which Sander attached to the back of Amy’s collar, keeping her arms pinioned in such a way as to make her muscles stretch and ache.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Dressed like this, Amy looked sexy, without having any kind of identifying features. The mask bundled her distinctive curls up quite convincingly, and covered her face enough to render her completely unrecognizable.

Sander nodded, satisfied. It would serve its purpose; he knew that the Doctor would find his lab, it was an inevitability. Without anyone there to maintain it, the asteroid would lose power and air, making it an interesting endeavor for anyone to get back inside if Sander didn’t want them to. But he was the Doctor; he would get inside. And when he did, he would know where Sander had run to. There wasn’t any point in deleting the computer’s data; he could recover it.

The Doctor would know that he was taking Amy to Chroma, and he would follow. The only way to be sure that they wouldn’t be discovered was complete anonymity. At least, until they had gotten off the streets and into the privacy of the club Mara had gotten them into. They could take their time then, until the Doctor found Mara’s false relay and left on another wild goose chase.

Suddenly, the ship emitted the landing tone, and the slight, pervasive shudder that had been with them for the last few minutes halted. Sander grinned, and placed his own black mask over his eyes. It really was like Mardi Gras Plus down there.

The bay doors opened with a metallic whirr, and Sander skipped over to them, barely able to keep his excitement in check. He leaped out into the noise of the city, his skin instantly bathed in a galaxy of neon lights. Amy turned towards the sudden light and noise, her borderline blindness making her nervous. Her whole posture radiated the discomfort and fear that she could no longer vocalize or convey through expression.

‘Welcome to Chroma!’ Sander exclaimed, throwing his hands wide. He couldn’t help but feel the enthusiasm of the moment; right off of the ship, Chroma was filled with thumping music, pulsing lights, and the constant chaos of the crowd. An endless procession of… interesting looking people filled the spaceport; at this time of year Chroma was full of people coming and going. It was a perfect cover, Mara had done well.

Sander stepped back inside to take hold of Amy’s leash; the mask made Amy functionally blind, and this was good for ensuring that she wasn’t identified, but it did make transporting her something of a pain in the ass. The leash had been an elegant solution that also furthered the disguise. It wasn’t Sander’s usual fetish, but he had to admit… it was kind of hot.

Sander guided Amy out into the street, his tugging on the leash making Amy flush with humiliation. As she walked, particularly strong lights would occasionally penetrate the veil of her blindfold, momentarily illuminating a series of silhouettes beyond. She took tiny, cautious steps, conscious of the crowd milling around her, and this made Sander tug harder on her leash.

Of all the disgraces that Sander and his crew had put her through over the last few days, this was the worst. She felt exposed, on display. The skimpy outfit she was forced to wear was bad enough, but the restraints and her blindness and speechlessness brought her to a new low. Even as disconnected from the world as she was, Amy could feel the eyes of the crowd roaming her body. In her mind’s eye, she was the center of attention. Her muscles throbbing, her jaw stretched uncomfortably, she felt like crying out, to let someone, anyone, know that she had been kidnapped. To her eternal frustration, she was unable to do anything except follow Sander like some kind of pet.

‘There are a few things you should know, slave,’ Sander said magnanimously, playing the Master with aplomb. ‘Here, slavery is legal. Even if you do get the opportunity to tell someone about us, nobody will care. Also, this is a kind of dangerous place. Dressed as you are, you do not want to get separated from me.’ Sander looked around, eyes filled with a vague sense of unease at his surroundings, ‘If you could see the things I’m seeing, you’d realize that I’m all kinds of nice, compared to some of the people out in public here.’

Sander scratched the back of his head. There were plenty of master-and-slave pairs in this crowd, and depending on where one looked one’s eyes would be assaulted with all manner of depravities. Everywhere he looked, Sander could see the kinds of scars and bruises that made him wince sympathetically. He looked back at Amy’s pristine, perfect skin. He couldn’t see any reason to damage this image of perfection. Given from the kinds of looks she was receiving from others, he wasn’t alone in this mindset.

‘Hey, sweetheart!’ A heavyset man drawled, clearly drunk off his ass. He draped himself roughly over Amy’s shoulder, his hands tracing up the bare skin of her ass. ‘Maybe we could have a little fun!’

Amy squeaked in fear and tried to shrink away. Sander could recognize that, although the man was talking to Amy, his request was addressed directly to himself, as the master. Sander’s eyes grew cold and protective; this interloper had a slave with him, clearly the worse for wear for his attentions. She shook constantly, her skin a patchwork of bruises and harsh red welts. Sander shoved the man roughly away.

‘Look but don’t touch, asshole!’ Sander snarled. ‘This one’s mine, you got me? Go play with your own.’

‘Alright, alright…’ The man shook his head, dissolving back into the crowd.

‘You see what I mean? Don’t wander off, kid.’ Sander sighed. That had been a little uncomfortable. As visually interesting as the streets were, it was probably best to get inside before any real trouble happened. Besides, the Doctor was coming, and he had a time machine. He might already be here.

Mara had left him a map, and he had done his best to memorize it. He led Amy through streets that left him shaking his head in disbelief; the kinds of things that people were doing in shop windows here was truly amazing. Occasionally he would stop, his eyes wide with wonder and his mind growing progressively more open, until Amy groaned through her gag. She was growing more and more uncomfortable on the streets; people felt compelled to shout out lewd comments to her, despite the fact that she was hardly dressed any worse than the majority of slaves out in public. Compared to most, her clothes were graceful, positively artful. It must have been the way she carried her fear and shame in her posture; the crowd could pick up on that and were determined to have their fun at her expense. Sander felt sort of bad for her, but then again, that was how Chroma worked. The last time he had been there, these people had picked him out as a newcomer and made him suffer for it too. Apparently, all one needed was a high-quality slave for that image to be dispelled in people’s minds.

The pair rounded a corner, and Sander threw his free hand up in front of his eyes protectively as a dazzling white spotlight swept over him. At the end of the street, the front façade of the club blazed with multi-colored radiance, a huge glowing sign featuring prominently: Shangri-La.

Sander grinned with anticipation. Of the clubs in this city, Shangri-La was legendary. Anything and everything that the clientele could possibly desire was catered for at Shangri-La, and quite probably many things that most well adjusted people could never imagine besides. It was incredibly exclusive, but Sander was rich, and bribery came as second nature to him. He and Mara had been able to acquire a large private room and unlimited use of the facilities at short notice, with only minimal drain of his private accounts. Amy really had no idea what she was walking into.

‘Ah, here we are,’ Sander said, nodding appreciatively at Shangri-La’s spectacular display. He tugged Amy forward, but the increasingly bright lights and her natural disinclination to go where Sander wanted had combined into an incredible recalcitrance. She quavered, whining around the plastic prick in her mouth and pulling against the collar around her neck. Over the past few days she had been raped multiple times, tortured and generally abused. This was something different. Now she was being dragged through the streets of some alien world, practically naked and tied up. Amy sensed that whatever had been done to her in the past was only playtime compared to what she would experience if she kept going toward the bright light ahead of her. She struggled.

Around them, interested masters would stop and cluck their tongues at the disobedient slave. Some offered recriminations of Sander for failing to train her properly, making Amy flush with shame. Others scolded Amy herself for being rebellious. Others still gave Sander suggestions about how to punish Amy’s insubordination. Some even tried to lend him tools to punish her with. Sander laughed, liking the way that Amy stiffened in panic and shrank away from him when she heard the tenor of the crowd’s reaction turning against her. Sander could see the keen looks in the eyes of many of the gathered masters; they wanted to see this hot new slave being punished.

Sander shook his head, ‘ No need for that… I’m sure she’ll cooperate now. I mean, I’ve got a Command Collar on her, but I do so hating using it. You’ve learned your lesson, right, slave?’ Amy felt a finger prod her in the chest. She whimpered and nodded emphatically, bowing her head in what she hoped was a proper sign of submission. Tears pooled in the mesh eyeholes of her mask, filtering through and falling to the immaculately maintained concrete. After a moment of sheer debasement, she felt Sander’s familiar touch stroke her hair.

‘There, there,’ He said, all faux- tenderness. ‘We’ll consider this a warning then, shall we? Any more disobedience will be punished, slave. Now come on,’ He tugged on her leash, and she stumbled forward. The crowd parted to let them through, with reactions varying from approval to disappointment.

‘Do you see?’ Sander hissed at Amy between clenched teeth as they drew away. ‘You are not among friends here. These people want to see you hurt. It really is best if you stick with me; at least this way you’ll leave this planet eventually. You are hot as hell, if you get caught up here you’ll be used every way you can think of and then dumped when you’re all used up. They like new meat here, and the collar and the Arclight and all that stuff back at the base? That isn’t even the worst technology that they have here.’ He gave a little, uneasy laugh. Chroma might be a hell of a lot of fun, but it was also terrifying.

Large, tinted glass doors slid open soundlessly and closed again. Inside, the writhing, living chaos of the city fell away, leaving an austere, chilled silence in its wake. They were in a well-lit foyer, cast in obsidian metal and smooth, curving contours. There was a constant, low hum as numerous air filters pumped out cold, sweet smelling air. Sander had not realized just how hot the press of bodies outside had been, but looking back he could see Amy’s lingerie clinging to her body with sweat.

‘Hello, sir,’ Called a voice from behind the bold black desk in the center of the room. A beautiful brunette sat primly behind the reception desk, smiling warmly. This smile did not extend to her eyes, which, although sparkling and clear, carried a certain constricted, dead quality that put Sander off. She was stunning, in a manufactured, robotic kind of way; as though her appearance had been constructed mechanically. As Sander drew closer, he realized why; there was a collar around her neck, with a metal white rose turning slowly from a clip at her throat. Chroma’s slave culture had a sort of unofficial code; white rose said that the individual in question was indeed a slave, but that they were not to be touched or interfered with. They were the property of a master who, while not using their slave right now, did not want anyone else using it either. Black rose said that interference was allowed, but only via negotiation with the master. Red roses, well… Red rose designated a walking free-for-all. Open all entries, all the time.

There were three plastic trays at the end of the desk, each filled with a different color rose pendant. Sander tilted his head to one side and thought, hard. It took him a minute, but eventually he settled on no choice at all, and picked three pendants, one of each color. His eyes roamed up the body of his blind captive with a speculative air. He winked at the slave-receptionist. She gave a giggle in response that was just a little too energetic.

‘We have a reservation, name of Hackett.’

The slave lowered her eyes to an embedded screen in front of her, fingers tapping away at a keyboard. She raised her head, ‘Yes, you do, sir. But, if it pleases, this one sees that your reservation is for three, sir?’

Sander made a little noise in the back of his throat. “This one,” huh? Her master, possibly the shadowy proprietor of Shangri-La, did not wish for her to speak of herself in the first person. He wondered what it might be like inside her head, when she wasn’t even allowed to think of herself as a distinct individual. She was, literally, just an object here.

‘Our third will be along shortly, I think,’ Sander said. ‘She’s the one who made the reservation. Calls herself Mara.’

‘Ah, yes, sir,’ The slave was somehow managing to sound timid and confident, at the same time. Sander had no doubt as to which was the actual emotion she was feeling. She pressed a button below the desk, and slid a keycard across to Sander. She had a scar across the back of one hand, and Sander wondered how it had got there. Then he realized that he probably didn’t want to know.

There was something unwholesome about Chroma in general and Shangri-La in particular. One felt that they were covered in a thin patina of grime mere seconds after entering the building.

‘You are in suite 600-09, a platinum-level suite, if it pleases, sir. Please proceed through the double doors; there are elevators to the left, and the public entertainments are on the right. The Shangri-La Help service is tuned to wireless frequency 8.46, but if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask, sir.’ The slave drilled out this spiel, as though it had been implanted directly into her brain.

‘I do have one question: What’s your name?’ He knew he shouldn’t be asking it, but Sander felt a kind of horrified fascination with the young woman. He wanted to fuck her, but felt incredibly bad even for that basic level of attraction. He felt like this woman would dissolve into sand at any moment.

‘This one is called Pearl, sir.’

Sander shook his head, ‘Of course you are. Elevators are this way, you said?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Sander stopped talking. There was very little point in it. He led Amy through a pair of doors so seamless that when they were closed they were invisible. The elevator doors were much the same, and the elevator beyond them played soft piano music as they entered, the first sound to intrude on the club since they had entered. Sander recognized the piece; Chopin’s “Raindrops,” and he clucked his tongue appreciatively. Somebody in this club had excellent taste in music.

With the cool air blowing and the pleasant music taking the place of powerful club beats, Amy was beginning to relax, if only a little. Her shoulders had dropped back down, and her breathing was returning to a normal rhythm. In the cooling air, her nipples were beginning to rise on her lusciously pert breasts, showing through her damp bra. Sander stared openly; she was blind, she didn’t know what he was doing. There was no harm in it.

Shangri-La was actually a giant tower, one of the atmosphere-scraping super-towers that functioned as one huge testament to the decadent excesses of Theros. There were hundreds of floors, each one bristling with rooms both private and public for the use of the thousands of customers that were deemed worthy of the earthly delights that Shangri-La offered. A plasma screen attached to one wall of the elevator pointed out the locations of numerous specialty services that the club offered. Sander stood transfixed; some things he felt he simply had to try, or to make Amy try. Others were far more lasting, and he wondered whether he was willing to permanently alter Amy in some of the ways the screen was suggesting. Sander had learned of Shangri-La by reputation, but he had never realized just how sprawling the club actually was; it offered everything a master could ever want for his slave, from simple piercings and tattoos all the way up to gene therapy and direct mental downloads.

Sander found himself fascinated by the idea that sexual technique could be improved vie psychological implantation. He could actually change who Amy was…

Fortunately, the elevator reached its destination shortly after Sander set down that particular train of thought. He shook his head to dislodge it; altering Amy’s personality wasn’t part of the plan. It defeated the purpose of keeping her captive in the first place.

It was only a short walk to their room. The door opened when Sander pressed his new keycard against it, and his eyes widened. The room truly earned the designation “platinum.”

‘Wow,’ He breathed, stepping into his new digs. For the most part, the suite looked like a high-priced hotel room; large double bed, well appointed bathroom and kitchen, and the small living area featured a television screen that was positively breathtaking in scale. But there were several additions and alterations to hint at what the suites actual purpose was.

The walls and roof had a variety of depressions, handholds and clips spaced out at odd intervals. The headboard and foot of the bed featured sturdy iron rings, and even the kitchen counter had some rings through which ropes or chains could be passed. That struck Sander as somewhat unhygienic.

The whole room had been purpose built to restrain people, as well as allow them to live in comfort. A large black wardrobe sat in one corner, distinct from the others in the room. Sander knew, just knew, without having to open it, that it was full of an incredible array of instruments of pleasure and punishment. That was just the kind of place that Shangri-La was.

The Shangri-La service staff had already carried Sander’s bags from his shuttle up to the room. They were that good. Sander ignored them, instead walking over to Amy and reaching around the back of her head to undo her mask. Now that they were safely inside the club, there was no way that the Doctor could find them; and with no publicly accessible cameras it didn’t matter if Amy was caught on tape. In fact, it might be fun to get her on tape…

Amy’s fiery hair cascaded down from its tight bun as the mask came free of her face. Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light, as the rubber cock came free of her mouth with a satisfying slurping noise. She coughed, taking in deep breaths.

‘Command: Strip,’ Sander exhaled, dropping heavily onto the bed. Outside, clothes were a matter of decorum. Inside the club, none of that mattered.

‘Oh, come on, Sander…’ Amy complained even as her hands worked to obey the command. Sander shook his head in response.

‘I’m not going to fuck you,’ He said. ‘Mara and I have a gentlemen’s agreement on that point. I don’t get to start the real fun until she gets back. That said, we still have around an hour to kill until she finishes up. So we’re going downstairs to kill some time.’

‘Like this?!’ Amy squealed as she peeled off the last of her outfit, leaving her gloriously nude.

‘Yup,’ Sander gave his best winning smile. ‘Enjoy the freedom, Miss Pond. There’s nothing like it where you’re from.’ He guffawed, ‘Of course… If you walked around Leadworth like this, some people might appreciate it. I know I do.’

‘I hate you,’ Amy snapped. Sander just laughed.

‘Well, sure! But I’m in the position of power here, my dear. It isn’t a good idea to antagonize me, my little sex slave. Come, we go!’ He stood, skipping to the door with a gesture over his shoulder. Amy followed unwillingly, going weak at the knees at the thought of walking around in public like this.

‘Oh, wait. Before I forget…’ Sander clipped the small black rose to Amy’s leather collar, the only piece of clothing Sander had allowed. He grabbed her leash, just to complete the image. Free of any kind of covering, Amy’s small, pert breasts jiggled as she walked, a sight that Sander had to physically wrench himself away from. She shivered a little in the cold, her arms covering her chest and crotch. Sander moved to stop her, but the sight of her trying to preserve her modesty, a look of abject defeat on her face, was simply too much. He shrugged.

In the elevator, Sander studied the electronic brochure, looking for something to do. It didn’t take him long; ground floor… a simple idea, but certainly entertaining, and in keeping with his idea of recording Amy’s little misadventures. Yes, that would do nicely…

Once back on the ground floor, Sander led his stripped slave out into the public arena. If the corridors around the private suites were empty, the public areas were where all those people had gone to. The floor squirmed with activity; a variety of adult-oriented entertainment at one’s fingertips. The dance floor was in full swing, but that wasn’t where the action was at; slaves were everywhere, in any number of positions, doing any number of lewd things. Some were chained to the walls, enduring whatever tortures their masters could devise. Others still were… well, it was a visually complicated scene.

Even with all that was going on, a large number of eyes slid to regard Amy appraisingly as she entered the room. It was rare that a newcomer was allowed into Shangri-La, and any fresh meat was cause to stare. And this new slave was obviously new at the entire slavery game.

Amy shrank away from the room, eyes wide with horror at the acts she was witnessing. Faced with lustful gazes of most of the room, Amy’s hands felt like they didn’t cover nearly enough. Sander whispered a command.

Her hands lowered to her sides, prompting a storm of hoots and cheers from the crowd. Suddenly exposed, Amy’s cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. Tears welled in her stinging eyes, and she sobbed thickly. Nothing in her life previously could have prepared her for being exposed like this in front of so many strangers, thousands of light-years- and the regular kind- from home. Her evident humiliation only made the crowd more enthusiastic. Sander began to get offers shouted from the mass for some “private time,” with Amy. She whimpered, and stared at Sander in horror.

‘Sorry, gentlemen. She’s not for sale just yet. Maybe later, we’ll see how my fancy strikes. But enjoy the visuals, by all means.’ He winked at the crowd, prompting scattered applause. Nevertheless, he took her in a wide arc, away from the crowd, to avoid their pawing, eager hands.

At the far end of the room was a sort of alleyway, one wall playing host to numerous black doors. Sander selected a door at random. Inside was a small booth, large enough for a single person. There was a hole in one wall, beyond which could be heard the sounds of the city.

‘Oh, you have got to be kidding me!’ Amy shouted.

‘I take it you know how this works, then? Well, to ensure cooperation… Command: suck the cocks that come through the hole. And… try to have fun,’ Sander smiled, closing the door on her. There was a tiny click as it locked. Amy found herself sinking to her knees, face level with the hole. She wished Sander hadn’t added that last part; she was salivating at the thought of what she was to do, regardless of how repulsive the thought actually was.

Sander slipped around to the other side of the booth. He knew he had promised Mara that he would control himself until she came back, but what the hell. He was her boss, not the other way around. This section of the club was open to the public, but only slightly. A door at one end of the hall let in the outside world, but the door Sander had to pass through would only work with a keycard. These booths were for a special kind of exhibitionism.

Besides, this was also a relatively low-impact game to play. Sander was cognizant of the fact that Amy was still recovering from her ordeal. He had resolved to go easy on her for a while. Shangri-La was notoriously tough on its slaves, and Sander felt he had plenty of time to ease her into that. For now it was best to allow her to fully recover her strength. She would need it.

Amy found she could look through the hole, giving her limited warning as to who was approaching. So she saw that it was Sander coming to her first. She rolled her eyes as her captor lined himself up with the hole and poked his junk through. Unbidden, her tongue shot out, licking at the head as her mouth engulfed this familiar dick.

Amy’s head bobbed rapidly on Sanders hardening prick, hoping that he would cum quickly, tire of this game and let her out of the booth. Spending hours at a time on her knees getting her face fucked didn’t exactly appeal to her. Outside, she could hear Sander groan appreciatively as her tongue slid along the underside of his cock. She remembered that he liked that.

For Sander, having Amy suck him off was just a way to relieve the tension that had been building inside him as he forced her to expose herself. He had been all distracted and… well, hard, for a long time, and he didn’t expect that he would last particularly long this time. That wasn’t a problem, given that the whole point of the booth exercise was to force Amy onto many strange cocks, rather than his own.

He allowed Amy to slurp up the length of his cock for a few minutes more, before letting go and unloading into her mouth. Amy moaned as the first spray of cum hit the back of her throat, and tried to pull away. The collar wouldn’t allow that, and she had no choice but to swallow Sander’s copious seed.

His softening cock slid from her lips and out through the hole. Amy growled at him in frustration and opened her mouth to say something through the hole, when suddenly his face appeared on the other side.

‘Actually, this is probably a good idea,’ He said. ‘Command: Do not attempt to speak with or reveal your identity to anyone outside the booth. Just a little safety measure.’ He called that last part over his shoulder as he rapidly retreated into the member’s only area.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Sander exhaled explosively, ‘Well, that was fun!’ He exclaimed.

Amy peeked out through the hole, then suddenly found herself jerking back away from the opening. She hadn’t told herself to do that; it was the collar working, and Amy knew why.

‘Oh, you have really, really got to be kidding me…’ She lilted in her lovely Scottish accent. She closed her eyes and hoped that it wasn’t true.

Outside, in the hallway, looking around himself furtively, was the Doctor.

Sometimes, it seemed as though the universe worked to certain narrative rules. The young hero will always fall in love with his female opposite, the heroine can never die, and there was absolutely no chance that the Doctor, with his hand loosening his belt, will ever pick a booth other than the one Amy was in.

Even as the Doctor’s dick slid through the hole, Amy couldn’t help but feel a little offended. He was supposed to be rescuing her, not trying to get laid in a brothel city! The Doctor had always gotten distracted at crucial moments, but this was fucking ridiculous! She had waited twelve years for him once, and now this? The girl who bloody well waited, indeed!

Amy’s jaw clamped shut when she tried to call out. Her body froze when she tried to signal. Moments passed as she struggled with the Command Collar. She was so close! He was right. Fucking. There! This was horrible!

‘Hey, hurry up in there,’ That achingly familiar voice called out through the thin wall. Amy glared. Still, she found her lips craning forward to take the -surprisingly thick- head of his cock into her mouth.

Amy contemplated other ways to signal to the Doctor. How, precisely, did one communicate with someone while simultaneously lapping at his cock? She supposed she could trace the words “SOS,” on the underside of his dick with her tongue… No, that’s stupid…

Once the hopelessness of the situation had reasserted itself, Amy realized just what she was doing. She remembered the time she had tried to seduce the Doctor, back in Leadworth. But that was different. That was a world away from being forced to service him in complete anonymity. This was utterly humiliating.

She choked back a sob, or rather, the Doctor’s prick did, as it hit the back of her throat. She was having trouble taking all of him into her mouth, but the collar compelled her forward regardless. Her teeth grazed at his sensitive skin, causing a long moan from the other side of the wall.

Her head bobbed mechanically as her mind swirled in a storm of thought. On the one hand, the cock in her mouth belonged to the Doctor. Her Doctor. The one she had waited for since childhood. She had wanted to do this to him more often than she cared to admit.

On the other hand, it was the Doctor. Her friend, who had saved her countless times. Who had rejected her advances in Leadworth, and with good reason; she was married! And Rory… Where was he in all this? Had they split up to search the city, or was he back in the TARDIS? Getting fucked by Sander and Mara, that had been enough of a violation of her wedding vows. But the Doctor was something else. The entire, confused history that the three of them shared, that made this far, far worse.

Her head filled with images of escape, of somehow getting loose from the collar’s control. The Doctor was right outside, for god’s sake! But there was no way to get to him. The collar’s control was absolute, and it made her suck harder, slid her lips over him more energetically. It made her tongue move and twist around the thick piece of meat in her mouth, coating it in her saliva. She had never given a blowjob like this before.

The Doctor began thrusting deeper into her mouth through the hole. Amy had never deep-throated before –she had never needed to- but the Command Collar didn’t exactly take that into consideration. She had no idea what kind of intelligence was driving the thing, but it seemed to force her into the least desirable course of action. She groaned in panic, her eyes widening as her pink lips slid progressively further down the Doctor’s shaft. She felt the head of his dick hit the back of her throat, and she gagged, yet still the collar compelled her to go deeper.

Over the course of several seconds, Amy’s mouth was forced down, lower and lower, until the entire length of the Doctor’s penis was in her. Her throat convulsed as her gag reflex went into overdrive, drawing long, shuddering moans from her. Amy concentrated on breathing through her nose as she began to move again, diving down the full length of his shaft again and again. Her throat burned from the repeated violation, and she coughed and spluttered even as she continued blowing the Doctor. The collar wouldn’t allow her to stop.

Suddenly, she drew back, the tip of the Doctor’s cock resting on her tongue. There was a moan from the other side of the partition, as a jet of cum landed on her tongue. Amy was left in little doubt of a single fact; Time Lord semen was different from the human variety. It was thinner, like water, and tasted… sort of sweet, in a vague, indefinable way.

The Doctor came copiously, and Amy wasn’t prepared for the sheer volume of the deluge. She swallowed rapidly, desperately, as it filled what remained of her mouth to be filled.

The Doctor finished, pulling out of her mouth. She lapped enthusiastically at the tip of his prick, licking every last drop of cum from the softening head. She cursed the collar for making her do that, her eyes moistening at the implication of what she had just done.

She tried, once more, to wrench herself free of the collar and call out. It would only take the slightest sound, just one word, to alert him to her presence. But her mouth clamped shut, and she whined in frustration. Was this nightmare ever going to end? Sander had said that the Doctor had lost many friends, and that he had forgotten them all. Given what had just happened, it seemed as if he had forgotten her.

In the tiny, dim booth, time meant very little. Amy couldn’t tell if she had been on her knees for a few minutes, or several hours. An endless procession of faceless, anonymous men came for her services, a seemingly unlimited supply of cocks in every shape and size. The collar was merciless and uncaring; she sucked every dick that came through the opening, growing progressively more resigned and exhausted. She swallowed every time, the collar forcing her lips into such a tight, sucking seal that nothing escaped it. Her throat grew raw, her jaw ached, and her mind descended into a bland haze of exhaustion.

When the final prick slipped out of the hole, and the booth door slid open, she barely registered it. Her eyes were half-closed, and she was drawing deep, shaking breaths through her mouth. In the dim cell, exhausted and kneeling, utterly naked, Amy possessed a ragged, worn-out kind of beauty that made the figure at the door break out in a wide grin.

Amy turned, but the figure was lit from behind and appeared to Amy only as a silhouette. This kind of dignified, showy anonymity didn’t last long.

‘What up, sweetheart?’ Mara giggled, her white teeth gleaming in the low light. She stepped into the booth, looking resplendent in a deep red dress that flowed around her like liquid. The neckline plunged, her soft, strawberry blonde hair falling around her in a shroud. Behind her, Sander leant against the wall, grinning inanely. It was clear that he had been hitting the bar, in that he swayed constantly and seemed to be giggling under his breath.

Like Sander, Mara was wearing a mask; hers was white and covered her eyes, curving lines like fangs following the edge of her face down to her jaw. Unlike Sander, she was still able to see straight, and didn’t smell like a distillery. She possessed enough manual dexterity to bend down and extend a red-gloved hand to Amy, gesturing to indicate that she would help her up off the floor.

‘C’mon. Game’s over. If he stays out in public much longer,’ Mara jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the inebriated Sander. ‘He’ll probably get into some trouble, or get killed. Or both, most likely. The point is, I’m back, baby.’

Amy was too tired, her legs too sore, to snap at her captors, or assert her independence by pulling herself up. She took Mara’s hand gratefully and grunted with discomfort as she was pulled bodily to her feet. Her bare thighs quivered, and she moved to cover her nudity once more.

Mara shook her head, ‘Come off it, Amy. We’re all past that now. From what Sander has been telling me, everyone outside at the bar is past it. Show it if you got it, that’s what I say.’

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Amy pouted in a breathless, faded way. She really was tired. ‘You aren’t wearing the collar.’

Mara nodded, ‘I wore the first one. Well, I tested the prototype to come out of our manufacturing facility. It’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?’

Amy nodded back, as emphatically as she could, making Mara laugh. Sander laughed too, but it wasn’t entirely clear whether he even knew what was going on. Mara turned to him with an exasperated look, and rolled her eyes.

‘Seriously though, we’d better get him out of here. You too, I suppose, before someone out there gets drunk enough to try their luck. I don’t know what Sander was thinking; we agreed to leave you alone until I got back,’ Mara sighed. ‘ And then he leaves you all alone in there, and gets plastered? Anything could have happened to you! Well, whatever… Come on.’

‘So, what happens next?’

Mara smiled, this time only looking a little like a shark facing down a baby seal, ‘Well, we still have a couple of days here in Chroma. We can take it easy tonight. Tomorrow, well…’ Mara stared at Amy, her eyes glinting. ‘That’s when the fun begins.’