From: Alden Bates To: sadwank@onelist.com Subject: [sadwank] Planet of the Nyphomaniacs Date: Monday, September 21, 1998 11:11 From: "Alden Bates" What part were we up to? About 4, I think... Doctor Who and the Planet of the Nymphomaniacs by Alden Bates A slightly humorous story featuring the eighth Doctor and a cast of a half-dozen. Chapter Four The Rules of Strip Monopoly had turned out to be quite simple. The game was played in almost exactly the same way as normal monopoly, except whatever rent you got, you had to wear. Hence, the Doctor had ended up wearing his own trousers and a collection of straps and buckles rather obviously meant for an improbably buxom woman - either that or one with more than two breasts, he hadn't quite worked out which yet. The rest he had spent on properties and taxes. Weena had been designated the bank, and had ended up sitting cross-legged next to a pile of spare clothing of odd and questionable origins. As well as her own clothing, she'd ended up with the Doctor's coat, Mistress Mel's gloves and a few other odds and ends. Mistress Mel, on the other hand, was wearing only one piece of clothing, and the g-string didn't cover much. She lay there as though she were Queen of the Nile. She grinned and winked across at the Doctor as the dice rattled across the board. "Three and two. Move my counter, Doctor." The Doctor picked up her counter, realising as he did so that it wasn't, in fact, an Alpha Centaurian as he had first thought. He placed it on the first square after "GO!". Mel crawled over to where Weena was sitting. One of the more bizarre rules seemed to be that the person collecting the "money" had to remove it themselves. "That's one garment for passing 'GO!'," she said, grasping the cravat around the other woman's neck. She began gently untying the Doctor's cravat, teasing it loose. Her nose stroked across Weena's cheek, her lips brushing the skin. She turned her head and closed her mouth over Weena's sensual lips, starting to push her tongue between them. "MEL!" said the Doctor sharply. Mel started and drew back with the cravat, her eyes seeming to throb purple. She shook herself and crawled back to her position opposite the Doctor, who picked up the dice. Weena cleared her throat and pointed at Mistress Mel's counter. "Ah," he said. "Old Kent Road, with one house of ill-repute. That's one garment, please." Mel smiled and stood as he crawled around the board. He reached up, but Mel placed a hand on his forehead to stop him. "No," she said. "With your teeth." The Doctor stared at her open mouthed for a moment before reaching forward and gripping the leather in his teeth. His nose and top lip pressed against a warm hip. As he ran the g-string down her leg, he found himself pressing more of his face into the smooth warmth, his cheek twisting as it rubbed against her. His face followed her foot as she stepped out of the "garment". He began pressing his lips firmly against the soft skin, kissing her painted toenails, running his tongue over the... "Doctor," said Weena calmly. "This is going to take a _really_ long time at this rate." The Doctor sheepishly pulled himself free and returned to his side of the board. Mel, now clad inadequately in his cravat, which she was running between her lips, struck a lascivious pose and wrinkled her nose seductively at him. The Doctor sighed. He could already feel the urge to throw the board aside and press himself down upon her, and they were only ten minutes into the game. He tossed the dice onto the board and watch them settle. Weena glanced at him, wishing he hadn't gambled her planet on the outcome of a game of chance. "Community Chest," said the Doctor, reaching for his thimble. At least he assumed it was a thimble. "No comments please," said Mel, playing with the cravat, running the silk across her breasts. "They carry an automatic three garment fine." The Doctor's mouth tightened as he read the card. He dropped it wordlessly on the board. Weena leaned forwards and turned the card. "You have been caught in a police raid," she read. "Go directly to gaol. Do not pass go. Do not collect one garment. As compensation, pay each other player one garment." Mel dived over the board and began unfastening the network of straps loosely covering his upper torso. With her tongue. Deciding she wanted some fun too, Weena joined in. She wasn't quite as deft at wrapping her tongue around the leather, but she made up for it by licking him as much as possible. Disappointingly, the Doctor remained completely still throughout the entire operation. The collection of straps finally came free and was tossed aside. Mel unfastened his belt and they each grabbed a leg and pulled. The Doctor had to grab the edge of the walkway in order to avoid being dragged across the pit as they tugged his trouser off. "Well," said Mel teasingly. "Looks like someone's very pleased to be bankrupt." The Doctor looked up at her with purple eyes, shaking slightly. "Listen, Mel..." "Mistress," Mel corrected him. "Mistress," repeated the Doctor dryly. "You have me. Leave this planet alone, you have no more need for these people." Mel was about to answer when a chime rang out. She climbed out of the pit and examined a screen. "Damn. All right, stay here. And I'll be very annoyed if you put any clothes on him," she said to Weena before leaving, carefully sealing the door behind her. Weena blinked. "She just left us here, alone, together, in a sealed room. Doesn't that strike you as a little..." "Dim?" the Doctor suggested, nodding distractedly. He seemed to have suddenly developed a fascination for the way her legs bulged at the sides when she sat on her haunches. "The very powerful sometimes overlook things, and she _is_ under the influence." His finger started tracing around her knees, pressing against her tights. "So are you," Weena said. "I don't know whether I should let you do this in your state." His finger drew a line up her thigh and started up under her skirt. "Then again," continued Weena, shucking the coat from her shoulders. "I'm in your state too." "Weena, you're not helping." the Doctor said, his hands making circular stroking movements against her inner thighs. "I'm trying to resist this as much as possible." Weena discarded the leather gloves. "Perhaps you shouldn't," she said, gripped the Doctor's face and mashed her lips against his. The main problem she had discovered with clothing was that it took a while to get the hang of getting out of it again. The Doctor removed the first obstacle by popping the buttons off her shirt and dragging it down over her arms. Meanwhile, she had undone her belt and begun pulling the skirt down. He assisted by pulling the shoes and socks off. That just left the tights. She was about to pull them down herself when he stopped her. He slid his hands down the back of the tights, stroking across her smooth buttocks and rolling them across her thighs to caress the insides of her legs, dragging the nylon down to her knees. Not being able to stand it any longer, Weena wrapped her arms around his back and pressed him against the side of the pit. His chest was cool against her stomach. She realised he was slicked with perspiration, even in the temperate environment. The Doctor pushed her back down into the cushioned floor. The tights, still up around her knees, were pushed back by his body until her knees were forced up beside her chest, the nylon stretched up under her breasts. He began softly kissing her forehead. She lay there, legs pinned, and ran her hands over his shoulders. His kisses went lower and lower, until he started using his tongue to massage and tease at the soft skin over her eyes. His fingers were drawing slow spirals on her breasts, gradually working their way in to the hardened nipples. She reached around with her arms and stroked at his sides, shifting down to where his erection was pressed against her stomach and beginning to stroke its length, feeling it throb as she reached the end. The Doctor was still working his way down, running his tongue down to her button nose and sucking at the end. His cool touch rubbed across her nipples, leaving a tingling in its wake. Fingers massaging at the nubs. Somehow it was a lot different from before. The impulse to dive straight in had been muted. She kissed at his chin, their faces slowly coming together as their hands worked at each other's body. As their lips met, he drew himself back and entered her, thighs pressing against her rounded buttocks as he buried himself to the hilt, muffling her resulting cry with his tongue. She locked her fingers behind his back. He began to slowly pump backwards and forwards, sending wave upon wave of ecstasy flooding up her body, pooling in her chest and head. The surges became more and more intense with every thrust, until colours danced before her eyes and her mind turned inside out. She thought she heard the Doctor howling, but it might have been her imagination. Finally he lay there, atop her, arms hugged around her, face nuzzling in her hair, half-thrust into her. He did this for half a minute before drawing back to look at her with misty eyes and a faint smile. "Mel's going to be very upset," she told him. *** Grant stood and gawked around the bridge of the Dalek saucer. It was bare and functional, plain metals walls broken by the occasional bank of controls, each with a Dalek plugged into them. A two-metre wide pit in the centre contained a platform, on which stood a blue and gold Dalek. Edward was looking around as well. "I don't like the looks of this at all," he commented. As they watched, a disc in the floor irised open and a head appeared through it. It seemed vaguely familiar to Grant, as though he'd seen it in a picture somewhere. A body followed, carried up by a lift mechanism. Grant's jaw dropped. "This would be their leader?" Edward asked. Grant nodded slowly. "They usually wear clothing though. And I don't remember Davros carrying a whip." "Well, what have we here?" Mistress Mel asked, stepping forwards and looking the pair up and down with purple eyes. "These two humans were trying to get aboard." Wait a minute, thought Grant, red hair, squeaky voice. There was a bell ringing somewhere in his mind. "Aren't you -" "Mistress Mel," she said in an irritated tone of voice. "Alternate universe, Dominatrix, clear? Now shut up while I decide what to do with you." Grant folded his arms and tried to keep his eyes focused on her face. For some reason, they had the tendency to wander downwards. "You must be the snivelling companion. Grant wasn't it?" "I've never snivelled in my life," he said in a hurt tone of voice, a frown flickering over his face. Mel flicked the whip around, catching him on his side. Grant yelped and fell backwards. "If I say you're snivelling," said Mistress Mel. "You're snivelling." "Ok, Ok, I'm snivelling," he said, picking himself up and rubbing tenderly where the whip had struck him. Edward draped an arm over Mel's shoulders. "Perhaps we could talk about this like civilised -" "No clichés," she interrupted him. "They annoy me." "You were the one who used the word 'snivelling'." "Look," said Grant. "Are we going to argue semantics or -" Mel hit him again. "That was quite unnecessary," Edward protested. "Give me the whip please." Mel raised an eyebrow at his tone, and gave him the whip. "Ouch. _Handle_ first, this time." She appraised him for a moment, running her eyes over the hard muscles of his chest and well-toned biceps. He looked uncomfortable under her gaze. "Look, it's obvious we're no threat. Grant here is far too scrawny to..." "Scrawny?!" echoed Grant indignantly. "That's enough," the Empress said sharply, gesturing to the pink Dalek. "Take then to the detention area and lock them up." *** Mel was fuming as the lift carried her back down. It was difficult enough trying to so a simple thing like take over the universe without people coming and going like the place was an open home. Still, it saved her having to go out and find slaves for the Daleks to bully, and that would save her time and make them happy. Then again, she quite liked the look of the big one, so she might just have to keep him for later. Her mind wandered back onto the Doctor. His appearance _couldn't_ be a coincidence. Perhaps it was a trap. Perhaps one of the Time Lord renegades had decided she was too much competition and set the Doctor against her. She would have to conduct further investigations. Meanwhile, the Doctor was waiting in her living room, with Weena. *With Weena*, she thought, suddenly realising what she'd done. The lift door opened and she sprinted along the corridor, bare feet slapping on the cold metal surface. The door to her boudoir opened and she peered into the "Pleasure Pit". Within, the Doctor and Weena were embraced in a tangle of limbs. Weena was trying to look as innocent as it's possible to look when you're half-naked and being pinned to the floor by a member of the opposite sex. She glared at them as Weena sheepishly pushed him off. The Doctor returned her gaze with eyes which were, once again, green. Mel dropped into the pit, landing astride Weena. She cupped the woman's face in her palms. "It looks," she said. "Like someone needs to be punished." To Be Continued ________________________________________________________ ()))______http://tetrap.simplenet.com/___________)__)__-~ `----------o "Why's your ASCII star destroyer upside-down?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Help support ONElist, while generating interest in your product or service. ONElist has a variety of advertising packages. Visit http://www.onelist.com/advert.html for more information.