THE MASTER AND MISS GRANT - Part 1

"I am the Master, and you will obey me" He watched with satisfaction as his
hypnotic gaze took effect. Miss Grant's had proved a stronger will than he
had expected, but there were few humans who could resist the power of his
focused domination, backed as it was by centuries of practice and a
Gallifreyan brain. "All is well, Miss Grant. Ah... Jo. You are safe. You are
safe and with the Doctor. I am your friend the Doctor. I have saved your 
life
and there is no danger any more." To his astonishment the young women
threw herself at him, sobbing in gratitude.

"Oh Doctor! It was terrible, I was captured by that awful Master and
I thought he was going to kill me!" She glanced up at him as if made
uncertain by his lack of response. Gritting his teeth slightly the Master
returned her hug.

"There, there... Jo. Everything is all right now." He patted her head
with one gloved hand. The girl tilted back to look up at him with wide 
trusting
eyes. For an instant he felt an strange urge - a physical response quite 
alien to
his nature. Firmly he pushed it aside. "Now Jo, I wonder if you would do
something for me."

Jo stepped back. "I know," she said brightly, "You could do with a
nice cup of tea."

"Er... not just yet. Thank you. What I want you to do is to lead me
back to the TARDIS."

Jo frowned. "But you know where the TARDIS is, Doctor."

The Master smiled. "It's a little test of your memory, my dear. And
you do so want to pass my test, don't you?"

"Of course I do. Right-o then."

He followed Jo as she led him through the corridors of the ancient
temple. No doubt he could have built a device to track the time ship down,
but minutes were precious. Besides, he savoured the delicious irony of being
handed the Doctor's precious vessel by one of his own companions. Miss
Grant's inane chatter was ignored as he considered his approaching triumph.
At last, the Doctor would be defeated! His own superior nature would be
proven beyond all doubt!

And then it was there. The TARDIS; still locked in that absurd
disguise. He paused, rolling the feel of victory around his mind. Slowly,
majestically, he pulled the stolen key from around his neck and approached
the door. He touched it, reverently. It was real. (Actually it was a
mathematical construct of reality, chipped in the logical part of his mind.)
The key slid into the lock. He paused. And turned. The doors opened.
Trailed by the still babbling Miss Grant he stepped into the brilliance of 
the
console room and threw wide his arms in triumph. "I have won! After all
these years, I have won!" The elation of the moment flowed through every
fibre. He laughed. He felt drunk with success, with power, with the sense of
an unattainable goal accomplished at long last. He felt an unfamiliar 
stirring in
his loins as barriers built carefully and painstakingly over many, many
decades were allowed to fall at last. This was his moment. Total domination
over his hated rival! But it meant nothing unless others knew of it. He had 
to
share it. Turning he pulled the unwary Jo into his arms and bent to kiss 
her.

"Mmph!" The surprised girl tried to pull back at first, but as the
embrace lengthened she stopped her struggles. Her lips parted and her
tongue eagerly pushed into the Master's mouth, toying with his own. Finally
he broke the clinch.

"Doctor!" She met his eyes with a gaze that was more amused than
shocked. "You are in a good mood!"

The Master stretched luxuriously, "Indeed I am, my dear. In fact, I
believe that my mood as never been better." He ran an eye over Jo, from
head to toe. She blushed bright red and looked down at her boots. "A
celebration is in order, I think. Come with me."

Jo looked up doubtfully. "But, I don't think..."

The Master looked into her eyes. "Come with me! You want nothing
more than to please the Doctor. I am the Doctor. You will come with me." Jo
shook her head a moment and then her bright smile returned. She held out
one be-ringed hand and the Master took it in his gloved one.

* * *

It had taken a while to locate a suitable chamber. The Doctor's taste in
TARDIS decor was lamentable, and he resolved to reconfigure the ship as
soon as he had a spare few days. Jo was spread-eagled on the antique four-
poster bed, her wrists tied to the top two posts with scarves. She seemed
unworried by his actions as yet, but he was unsure whether he could maintain
his control over her when he gave his desires free reign. He peeled off one
glove and ran his bare fingers over her cheek. She turned her head to kiss 
his
hand and then smiled at him. He caught himself returning the gesture and
paused for a moment. Astonishing. The other glove followed the first, and
then he moved onto the bed, kneeling upright between Jo's legs. A human
being at his complete mercy. He resolved to taste every moment as if it were
fine wine, to etch every experience into his memory so that it could be 
relived
later.

He traced the features of her face with his fingertips; her cheek
bones, the curve of her fair eyebrows, the bow of her lips. He held her head
between the palms of his hands and stared into her wide, brown eyes, fixing
them like an insect's wings pinned to a display. He continued to probe as 
his
hands slid to her shoulders, but the windows that are said to look onto the
soul (as if such a thing could exist!) were closed even to him. He brushed 
her
blonde hair aside and felt the outline of her collarbones through her 
pullover
and the striped blouse underneath. His hands moved lower still and he saw
Jo's lips part slightly. He cupped the slight mounds of her breasts, 
delicately
brushing against them until he could just feel the firmness of hardening
nipples under the cloth. Her pupils widened slightly. Her breathing was 
faster
and more shallow. He fancied that her skin temperature, feverish already to
Gallifreyan sensibilities, had risen just a touch. Lower still now, and he
measured the narrowness of her waist, tested the smooth resilience of her
stomach. His hands slid over the flare of her hips and onto the tight denim
covering her thighs. Her lips were parted further now, swelling as blood
rushed to the capillaries near their surface.

His hands could go no further unless he broke his gaze. He tried to
analyse his own feelings, but the cool detachment that had been a necessary
part of him for so long seemed to have fled. He felt powerful. He felt
aroused. He felt like a Lord of Time. He felt that the human girl beneath 
him
was, in some strange way, closer to him now than any entity had been for
very many years. (And what of her feelings? interrupted the voice of
calculation. Would she be so passive without your mental trickery to alter 
her
perceptions?) He looked away. He had to, so that he could explore further. 
It
was necessary. Easing back he slid his fingertips lower, over the cuffs of 
her
denim shorts and onto the smooth bare skin of the knee, exposed above the
high boots that she wore. The boots were made of animal skin. The idle
thought that he needed to remove the skin of an animal in order to explore 
the
skin of another animal made his lips twitch appreciatively for an instant,
before other, less amusing thoughts replaced it.

Straightening, he attempted to smother the need and the emotional
responses that were affecting his thought processes. What was he doing? He
was considering a liaison with an animal. A creature as far below 
Gallifreyans
as they themselves were above the crawling things of their Earth. Being, for 
a
Gallifreyan, both extremely cosmopolitan and accustomed to thinking the
unthinkable, he considered the matter more deeply. Had he ever considered
slaking his desires with an alien before? Had he ever had such desires 
before?
The answer was no. There were plenty of humanoid species in the universe,
many of them outwardly all but identical to Gallifreyans, and yet the 
thought
of taking one as a leman had never even crossed his mind. So what was
different here? He stared deeply into the eyes of the girl. She was no
Gallifreyan, that was certain. A mental adept could perhaps have suppressed
her mind signature from casual notice, but not from the concentrated
attention of one as skilled as himself.

He willed himself into a self-diagnostic trance and began to probe his
own body chemistry. The air passing through the walls of his lungs was
uncontaminated. His bloodstream was without any trace of toxin or
psychoactive chemical. His brain chemistry was... ah! He spiralled deeper
still, becoming one with the substance of his flesh shell, merging his 
thoughts
with the non-flesh ones of his bio-temporal organ. There it was. No poison.
No alien chemical. He was absorbing pheromones that were a primitive
analogue of those given off by Gallifreyans themselves. Scent traces that
were so near to being natural that his body had not even registered them as
alien, but which were subtly influencing his own body chemistry so that he
was reacting with sexual arousal. It was puzzling and yet fascinating. If he
were more experienced in the appropriate areas of genetics, bio-chemistry
and comparative xenomorphology he would be tempted to do an analysis of
the creature.

--
Rutan

*******

Doctor3/Jo: Day of the Daleks

"You simply don't realise the danger we're now in, Jo! All because you
disobeyed when I told
you not to mess with the time box,"

"I'm sorry Doctor. It's just, you know, I though that those
guerrillas..."

The Doctor sighed. "That's the trouble, Jo. Even after all this time
with me you don't think."

Jo hung her head and shuffled slightly.

"Come here, Miss Grant."

Jo looked up anxiously. She knew what it signified when the Doctor
addressed her like that.
"But, Doctor..." He simply remained seated, looking at her patiently.
Jo reluctantly got to her
feet and moved to him. She was about to make another protest, but the
Doctor placed one finger
to her lips and she resigned herself to what was to follow. Placing
herself across the Doctor's
knees she screwed her eyes closed and waited.

"I'm only doing this for your own benefit, Miss Grant." She felt the
Doctor lifting the hem of her
skirt. "Every time you deliberately disobey one of my instructions you
are putting yourself and
perhaps others in great danger."

His hand slapped her vulnerable rear hard. The thin red panties provided
little protection and Jo
yelped at the shock of the contact.

"I understand, Doctor - really I do..." She was cut short by the second
blow, which struck the
already sensitised area and sent a lightning flash of pain shooting
along her nerves.

"Aah. Please, Doctor. Someone could come in. No more, please. I'll be
good in future..."

The third smack set her tender behind aflame, and she squealed and
squirmed. Her movements
were to no avail; the Doctor's strong left hand pinned her formly in
place. He paused to adjust her skirt, which had fallen back over her
panties due to her movement. "Doctor. No more. I won't
again. No need..." Jo was babbling now - a stream of words and
meaningless phrases that were
pleas for clemency, promises of good behaviour. The Doctor was
implacable, but considered that
Jo's lesson had sunk home. The final three smacks were delivered with a
rapid staccato, hardly
giving Jo time for more than a single additional cry before the
punishment was complete. She
stood somewhat unsteadily, readjusting her hemline and sniffling a
little.

"Now, Jo," said the Doctor quietly, "let's concentrate on getting back
to our time."