Okay - here it is at last. Sorry it took so long.


Forbidden Fruit 2 - Chapter 4

She sees the Doctor frown slightly as the steel cuffs swung from
side to side in front of his face. The struggle is writ large
on his features; a detestation for the symbol of cruelty and oppression
warring with his own need and the desires that she'd made plain
to him. The focus of his gaze shifts from the dangling cuffs to
her own eyes. Her excitement mounts as she feels herself pinned
by that look, like a butterfly skewered to velvet. Those eyes
that had seen so much over so many centuries, now regard her with
unconcealed wanting, and the feelings that simple look arouse
in her are a greater aphrodisiac than anything she could have
imagined.

        Now her wrists are circled by the obdurate silver rings, held
above her head and passed through the wooden slats of the bed
head. She doesn't remember how they got there. There is an itch
in her throat, a spreading fiery warmth filling her belly. These
sensations are forgotten in the infinitely more urgent feelings
that the Doctor's fingers generate as they wrap tightly, strongly,
almost painfully around her ankle. She feels his lips press against
her calf, the warmth of his breath stirring the fine hairs on
her leg. Then his teeth are against her flesh. There is pressure.
His mouth closes, almost painfully, and with a shudder she imagines
his teeth closing further, drawing her blood. He could do it if
he wished. She tugs quietly at the restraints on her wrists. They
hold. She could not stop him. His mouth moves slowly higher,
exploring the soft skin behind her knee. She tries to bend her leg, but
the Doctor's grip is implacable; she is held exactly as he wishes.
Now his tongue laves her thigh, tracing patterns of sensual alien
geometry. The anticipation of his final destination makes her
shudder. Her breathing is getting out of control - great gasps
for air alternate with fast shallow pants that makes her ribs
ache. She realises that she is babbling aloud; calling for him
to advance faster, to give her release, to fuck her *now*!

        His response is to move even more slowly. His teeth and
tongue massage the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, nipping, tugging,
rasping until she feels her head swimming with a lust that he
refuses to fulfil. She is about to scream with frustration when
her leg is released. The Doctor's face appears above hers, stern
and patriarchal.

        "Now Peri." It was not a question. Her lips parted and she
rattled the chains that bound her hands as she tried to struggle from
beneath him. She wanted him, but more than that she wanted to
be *his* - to be taken, possessed, dominated, swept helplessly
along in the force of his ancient personality. She had seen those
shutters raised on only a few occasions. A handful of times where
the Doctor had allowed himself to be seen as he truly was beneath
the facade of human eccentricity and cultivated foible. Powerful.
Ancient in wisdom. A temporal juggernaut that crushed empires
as casually as she tore open a milk carton, and yet always stood
on the side of the Angels. If she still believed in Angels.


        She nodded. Her throat was too tight for speech. Grasping her
upper arms, he held her eyes with his own. With no warning he
thrust down, impaling her suddenly on his swollen organ. The breath
was driven from her is a short scream of mingled surprise and
fear and joy. The Doctor's weight pinned her firmly to the bed
as he began to move, slowly, setting a rhythm that tormented and
left her unsatisfied, yearning for more. She tried to thrust her
hips upward, needing to feel him deeper. He stopped. She groaned.
"Please Doctor! More! I need you... More!"

        "I know. There is something very wrong here. I hope we both
live to regret what I am about to do." Slowly he increased the pace
of his thrusts. One hand moved to her breast, squeezing her nipple
roughly until the mingled pain and pleasure made her screw shut
her eyes and bite her lip. For an instant there was a shadowy
memory of another moment when she had been helpless. Ashamed,
violated, a past that was less distant in time than in deliberate
forgetfulness. Then it was gone, and she revelled in the feelings
that coursed through her young, taut body as the Doctor pounded
into her. His hand had slid lower now, caressing her belly with
assured strokes and then sliding beneath her buttocks. A finger
moved between her ass cheeks, pressing against the puckered opening
of her anus. She gasped at the unfamiliar feeling, groaned in
delight as the finger pushed further, oscillating in counterpoint
to the in and out rhythm of his cock. 

        Her own excitement was still building when the Doctor
suddenly groaned, his arms rigid and he ejaculated deep within her.
She could sense the flood of warm semen spurting into her, but even
if her eyes had been open she would not have seen the golden glow
that surrounded her loins for a few seconds. 'There,' gasped
the Doctor, 'Let Rassilon's gift do its work. You should have
enough residual Artron energy from your last temporal
perambulation for this to work. Peri! Look at me girl!'


        His words washed over her, just sounds without meaning. Still,
there was something in the tone that caught Peri's attention,
brought her focus back from the burning want of her cunt and made
her reopen eyes pressed tightly closed. And for a moment she looked
deep into the Doctor's own eyes and saw infinity there. The orgasm
took her unaware and more strongly then she had ever known. Her
scream tore her throat. She bucked and flexed until the skin of
her wrists was torn and bleeding. And in the middle of that ecstatic
release she went mad...


        She looked down on herself, mouth open in a silent scream,
sweat dripping from her nose and chin. Her breasts were flushed,
nipples tautly erect. She could see herself through the Doctor's eyes.
There was even a sense of his own thoughts and emotions, dimly
flickering at the very edge of her perceptions, grand and huge
and nothing that could safely be encompassed by human
understanding.

        And she looked up into the face of a different Doctor, dark
haired, laughing hugely as he pistoned into her body. Her mind was
caught in a turbulent maelstrom of orgasms, male and female. She
could not understand her own thoughts, so rarefied and strange were
they, but as the Doctor withdrew and gathered her in a hug she
could she her fine blonde hair on his shoulder, feel her slighter
body doll-like in his strong grasp, feel her smaller breasts pressed
to his sweaty, hairy torso. With gusto her picked her up by the
waist and twirled her around the room (a TARDIS bedroom she
realised) before throwing her face down on the bed and taking her
from behind. Peri felt this other self join the Doctor in joyous laughter
before she was suddenly immersed in yet another scene.


        Now the Doctor, white-haired and regal, was crouched
between her legs displaying his mastery of cunnilingus (a vague
foreign memory suggested that he'd insisted it was a perfectly polite
greeting custom between the inhabitants of Trosperon IV). She lifted
her booted legs over his shoulders and pulled higher the hem of her
scandalously short skirt, the better to expose her swelling clit
to his darting, cunning tongue. 

        Now she was the Doctor again, holding a young girl tightly in
his arms as she sobbed her release.

        Now she was a woman, in darkness, her head bobbing as she
tongued the hard, pulsing cock (the Doctors?) That filled her mouth.

        Memories. Shorter. Fragments. Pleasure. Guilt. Surprise.
Silence.

        She opened her eyes again. And the world had changed.



-- 
Rutan

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