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A Quick Stop-Off for Tea and Fisting	By : Ksennin Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 12371 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters therein. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
"Doctor?" Clara said by rote. "Why are we at 13 Paternoster Row in 1893?"
The Doctor looked up from a read-out on the TARDIS's console that did not do much more, in point of fact, but play Flappy Bird. "Now, that's hardly fair. When we weren't here ten minutes ago, you didn't ask why we weren't at 13 Paternoster Row in 1893."
"It's just that we seem to check in with those three an awful lot. Can't you just add them on Facebook so we aren't running back here every week to see if everyone's okay? It's starting to feel like we're on a TV show."
"Oh, no, I've never go into television. They'd probably change my character into a woman or some such." The Doctor shivered, which Clara thought was going a bit overboard. "But yes, in point of fact, if you must know, for your information—"
"Done making up a lie yet?"
"There is an island—"
Clara got an early start on rolling her eyes.
"—and in this island is a yellow light, which is very important. Very, very important indeed. So important I can't even tell you how important it is. That's how important it would be if I could tell you how important it is. And this island is also a prison for being of ultimate evil, only kept in check by the island's protector, who is also in charge of protecting the yellow light. Only we need a new protector, because the old protector is going to let himself die, so out of a hundred or so very special people who all happen to be destined to get onto one plane due to fate and free will, I'll just see who survives the crash of that plane, the complete lack of modern resources, the hostile natives, and this arbitrary monster, and whoever survives will end up being the protector. But in a nice way."
Clara shook her head. "God help if anyone ever has to sort out all your excuses."
"Also, no one on the island can get pregnant. That's very important—or not important at all—one of the two." Springing down to the walkway, the Doctor barreled out the door. "Anyway, while I deal with that, you stay with our good friends Vastra and Jenny!"
Perhaps they had visited Paternoster Row a few too many times. The TARDIS had materialized atop an ungardened spot inside the house's courtyard, and Jenny was waiting with a tea tray.
"Hello, Doctor. Visiting long? Madame Vastra is waiting for you upstairs."
"Thank you, Jenny." He took a cup and wandered around with it, as if getting his sea legs on the posies. "See to Clara, would you, best if she sleeps away from the time vortex for a night or too."
"Something wrong with a time vortex?" Clara asked, leaning against the TARDIS's doorway, but in a slightly suspicious way.
"Not unless you're pregnant. Or are planning to get pregnant. Or were born from a pregnant woman."

"You'd better not tell me this has something to do with magical numbers that are very lucky but also kill you," Madame Vastra said in her sitting room.
She had a French armchair soaked in neoclassicism specifically for the Doctor to sprawl in sideways, back against one armrest and knees clipped over the other. "No, no—I'll be honest. Mostly honest. It's Clara. She seems like she's in a bit of a funk lately."
Vastra jotted down a line in her letter to Mr. Doyle. Although she implicitly trusted his authorial vision once he'd been given a description of a case by Jenny, she did like to add a few insights for him to incorporate, giving the reader a look into the deductive process. "A funk? If you think she's depressed, it's a wonder she survived the suicide attempts."
"She's not depressed, not per se, but I do worry about her demeanor, her time with me. She'll leave one day, you know—people only travel until they get somewhere. And usually, it's because they find someone. But Clara doesn't seem to be meeting anyone. And it's an awfully big TARDIS. Awfully big…"
Vastra dipped her pen in an inkwell a few times before responding. "Seduced another one, have we?"
"I am a married man!"
"You dress like a hipster and travel to the earliest bit of the 21st century. You should know this will end up a problem."
"I can't help it! I'm a sexy bitch, yes, admitted, but I'm not bad. I just regenerated that way." The Doctor gave up, slumping down until his back was on the floor and his feet up on the armrests. "You and Jenny, you've never ever fancied me. I don't know how you do it, but you have to share your secret with Clara."
Vastra blinked. "That might be a little difficult."
"Oh, come on. Not for Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint! Just take her on a girls' night out, show her the town, find her some cute Irish lad. Make sure he's good at running, though, if I take him along, he has to be good at running."
"Doctor, you do know I'm a lesbian, don't you?"
He looked at her strangely. "I thought you were a Silurian."

The next thing Clara knew, her bags were in the guest room and the Doctor was in a carriage topped by Strax, the horses stomping their hooves to go. "Just us guys, eh Strax? We'll just check the city for Daleks, Cybermen, what have you. Clara, you stay here, watch the TARDIS."
"Watch the impenetrable time-fortress that is already hidden in the home of two samurai?"
The Doctor nodded. "If anyone comes near it, just go 'oy, wot d'ya think you're doin'?' They'll probably go. If they stay, just stare at them until things get really awkward. Then—oh, you'll think of something. Strax, let's go!"
The carriage clattered off over the cobblestones, leaving Clara watching it still in a state of disbelief. "Man-cave the size of Scotland and he still needs to have a lads' night."
It wasn't that she didn't like Jenny and Vastra, but, well… they were married and they still kept up this thing of Jenny dressing up like a maid and letting Vastra order her around. Clara didn't really approve of such kinkery during the work week. Save that for the weekend.
Jenny was there to see the carriage off, and seeing Clara in a state, she took the young woman's arm. "There now, it's not so bad, miss. There's plenty to do on our lonesome."
"It's Victorian England. That precludes one thing I'd really like to do." She watched the carriage turn a corner in the distant. As well as who I'd like to do it with.
Jenny colored. "Well, miss, we do have books of poetry. Vastra has a voice made for recitals. You should listen, it's a good bit of fun!"
Clara tried to be polite as she stepped back inside with Jenny, having had her fill of rude stares over her jeans and Rolling Stones T-shirt. "And what's Plan B?"
"My mistress liberated a very advanced telescope from one of our antagonists. Hard to beat a quiet night of stargazing, eh?"
"I've seen stars up close. Almost got eaten by one, in fact. Sorry."
"Oh. Well then, there's always the opium."

Madame Vastra literally had an opium den. It was a small, closed-off room with a skylight and plenty of settees, the light from above shining on the opium lamp's filigree. It made quite an impression. Jenny stared at it every so often and laughed.
Vastra's opium was not even as good as the hash back home in the teacher's lounge, but then, Clara was sure teachers had the best marijuana around. But this gave her a deep-warm buzz, like she'd spent several hours soaking in a hot bath, and all she had to do was lay on her settee and take the toke when it was offered to her by Vastra.
"I do not fancy the Doctor," Clara said with the emphatic quality that came only with bullshit. "Can you imagine having sex with him? 'Oh Doctor, Doctor, Doctor!' Wouldn't know if I was coming or if my aunt'd had a heart attack." Crouching against Vastra's settee, Jenny's intermittent giggling erupted once more. "But he is possibly, potentially, my type."
"You know what a sailor would say? A sailor-!" Jenny broke off giggling, and Vastra fondly rubbed the nape of her neck until she'd calmed herself behind the cupped hands at her mouth. "A sailor would say you need a good rogering!" Jenny wailed with laughter and Vastra gave up on soothing her, merely supplying her with another taste of the pipe.
"I," Clara began daringly, "have been rogered plenty. I could just use a… 'roger' that knows what he's doing."
"Nine hundred years old," Vastra said musingly. Clara didn't think the opium affected her very strongly. "Bound to learn a thing or two." She took Clara's offended glare. "I was just referring to dancing, dear."
"You haven't been to the 21st century. You don't know what it's like. Everything is about knowing what you want, knowing what you like—I knowwhat I want. I am a control freak. If I had a proper robot, I could tell him precisely how hard, how fast, how deep, and that'd be that. My love life, settled."
"Shame that Cyberman the Doctor carries around no longer has a body," Vastra mused again, setting Jenny to more giggling. They were holding hands now.
"But men, men know what they're doing, they don't need help." Clara set her hands on her hips and spoke in a deepish voice to complete her masculine impersonation. "Oooh! Sometimes I wish I could be like that Adler woman from all the sex tapes. Just slap 'em around, call 'em names, make 'em give me exactly what I want."
"Or just get rogered so hard you don't need to be in control, you just need to lie there and… well…" Jenny brushed her forehead against Vastra's leg, and Vastra petted her hand proudly.
"Oh, I know enough about lying there. I've faked enough orgasms to start a porno company… oy!" Clara sat up. "Why am I telling you all this?"
"Because I'm a lizard woman married to one of the lower classes."
"Yeah, that's the controversy there," Jenny piped up.
Vastra continued over her. "Of all the people who might possibly judge you, we do not number among their ranks. We're not even of the same millennium!"
"Yeah, but what if you wrote it all down? It'd survive to my time. What if my dad read it?" Clara asked, eyes wide with horror.
"Paranoia is a quality most unbecoming the enjoyment of snuff. Please, a little more to soothe your nerves?" Vastra offered up the pipe, and Clara took a desperately hard suck off it to clear her head. The warmth of her high smothered her and she laid back on her cushion, full of relief.
"I can hit a Slitheen over the head with a bowling ball, but I can't tell a boy that he's done about as much to get me off as a news report on Tony Blair. I don't even like seeing myself naked. Not when I'm having sex."
"What a shame," Vastra drawled. "I'd wager it's an enchanting sight."
"Eighth wonder of the world," Jenny chimed.
Clara blushed. "Nice innuendo. If you were blokes, you'd have me boffed for sure."
"Give it time."
Jenny, as was her wont, laughed it up. "So how d'ya get off, then, if the suspenders set isn't an option?"
"Well, I… promise you won't write this down and show it to my dad in a hundred-so years?"
Vastra crossed her heart, somewhere down beside her waist. "Pray tell."
"I… I have a lad over, right, and he does his thing—it's not bad, it's just not a hundred percent—mission accomplished, you know?" She gestured for the pipe and Vastra gave it to her forthwith. After blowing out a pall of smoke, Clara was ready to go on. "And I make like I've had a good one, as you do, and wish him a good night. Men like that about me, that I don't need a cuddle after. But once they're gone, I take a dildo—oh, you know what a dildo is, right?"
"Intimately!" Jenny laughed.
"Well, I take it, and I hold it between my thighs. I put on my panties over it, and my pajamas, and pull up my bed sheets. Then I roll over onto my stomach, and I close my eyes tight—sometimes I even bite my pillow—and I fuck myself so hard. It's like something out of a porno! I've been to bachelorette parties, mind, where the girls watch some smut and talk about how silly it is, a woman bashing away like that, but God, that's not the half of it! I am rough with my pussy. And my dildo, it's not one of those little things that you keep in your purse and set to vibrating like you've got your phone on silent. It's a big black thing! If a prowler came through the window, I could beat him to death with it. I can barely keep my legs shut around it. Oh, I do that too. I know. I have issues. But it really feels good."
For a long moment, there was silence. Even Jenny did nothing more but suck, slack-jawed, on the pipe. Then Vastra steepled her fingers together.
"Do you know what this calls for?"
"Shots?" Clara asked.
"Home movies."
"…fucking Victorian era."

Clara looked on in astonishment—in horror—in fascination—in excitement as she was penetrated by the strap-on dildo. Not her. The other her. The one being shown when she looked into the eyeholes of the Kinetoscope.
First, Vastra had sucked Jenny's strap-on, lubricating it. Then Jenny had sucked Vastra's strap-on. Then they both sucked each other's strap-on. (All the while, the other Clara was getting undressed. It took a while. Fucking Victorian era.) Now Jenny entered Clara.
Though there was no sound, it was obvious she was screaming in pleasure.
"The poor dear," Vastra said from behind Clara. "One of your incarnations. Came to us for help when she was a little snowed in. She was also woefully undersexed, so we dealt with the more pressing issue first. Barely took any convincing at all. The moment I got back from visiting the Doctor, she and Jenny were all over me. You humans. So affectionate."
She was no prude, but it had never occurred to Clara that the device Jenny and Vastra had ushered her to was a peepshow—or whatever this was. The other her (the governess, Clara recalled from her dreams) looked so young, so innocent, nervous even. It made Clara actually feel guilty to watch.
But although Clara had never been much for pornography—the hardcore stuff was too obscene and the softcore was just silly—this was… something else. Porn didn't work for her, but seeing herself experience the kind of pleasure she'd never had before—that was obviously an orgasm the governess had just had, not an ounce of fakery—well, it… it…
Clara wondered if she could take the Kinetoscope back home with her.
Then Jenny pulled to a stop. The governess begged for her to continue, put her hands together and pleaded. But Jenny was resolute, as Vastra came from behind, the only thing she wore the sleek phallus strapped to her crotch, still slick from her maid's oral attentions. It also appeared to be covered with metal studs. Clara wondered if that was meant to represent a Silurian male's… maleness.
What followed made Clara wince. You wouldn't know it from the governess's reaction—not an ounce of fakery there either—but that had to have hurt.
Then she heard the rustle of clothes from either side of her. Jenny and Madame Vastra. Unrecorded.
She watched the grainy video loop, the motion jerky, the picture flickering and dark. She knew the other women were undressing. Then she felt them start to undress her. She kept her eyes on the video, even as Vastra drew a cold claw down her shirt, slicing it in two so she didn't have to stop watching. Stop thinking about what she was seeing.
"Let's be frank, Clara," Vastra said in her ear as Jenny, ever the dutiful maid, helped her step out of her jeans. "You're here because you've been humping the Doctor's leg like a bitch in heat and it's unbecoming, even for a mammal. So we're to wean you off cock altogether."
A last gasp of propriety prompted Clara to straighten, even though she was in her underwear, and look Vastra dead in the eye. "And why would I consent to that?"
"Jenny, be a dear and bend over?" Vastra called.
Jenny did as ordered. Then Vastra's tongue flicked out.
Never an ounce of fakery.
"Okay, I'm in," said Clara.

Clara really wanted the Miley Cyrus thing from Vastra before her control freak tendencies came back to the fore and screwed up a good thing, but Jenny was convinced that she had to be warmed up first—unfastened, she put it. And so, instead of the comforting ritual of having pajamas and panties and bed sheets and the artificiality of the organ itself between her and her needed release, Clara was naked, up against a wall, with a lizard-lady and a woman technically old enough to be her great-great-great-grandmother pressing in on her.
She let them kiss her, each in turn, passing her from lips to lips like they had done the opiate earlier. Vastra's body pressed against hers, cool and sleek, wrestling with the wonderfully warm contours of Jenny's body as they fought over Clara. Each wanted to get a thigh between her legs, to be her first. Clara spread her legs with, wishing she could have them both.
Then, by some unspoken marital bond, both left Clara's lips barren to instead suck on her neck, giving her identical hickeys on either side. Clara panted, running her hands over those deliciously contrasting bodies, down to either's sumptuous ass—a bit surprised to find no tail on Vastra. She'd always assumed—
Then Vastra sucked on her pulse point and it was all too much. "Please, no more! I can't take anymore!"
Vastra backed away, an implacable smile frozen on her face. "Oh, I have a feeling you can take an awful lot."
"Not this. I need—" Clara breathed deeply. This was the opposite problem she had with most men, but it was still a problem. Too much stimulation, and in the wrong places, instead of not enough. She had to say something. They'd seduced her, damnit. She was owed getting exactly what their innuendo had promised. "I need some fingers in my cunt, right now, or I'm going to do it myself. And that would mean I'd have to stop touching one of you, and I really don't want that."
"Nor us," Vastra said, with an amused look to Jenny. "You heard her, maid. Finger her cunt while I go get the bed." She smiled at Clara as if they shared a private joke. "I'd fuck you on the floor, but when you squirt, it'll be much easier to change the sheets than to mop the floor."
"Or get a stain out of the carpet, heaven forefend!" Jenny added, crossing herself.
Clara was more than a little confused when Vastra stepped away, headed for a wall. "I thought you'd go first—you being the mistress of the house and all…" She didn't know a lot about kinky fuckery, but that's what Christian Grey would do if she had a threesome with him and Anastasia Steele.
Not that she'd thought about that much, in her dark bedroom, sheets pulled up, dildo under her panties and pajamas…
Vastra pulled at a dangling cord Clara hadn't noticed and down came a fold-down bed. Clara wondered how many of those they had. It was a big house, and Vastra and Jenny didn't seem the types to wait until they'd gotten to the bedroom to use the marital bed.
"Oh, it'd be an honor…" she said. "But I think I'll wait to step in until Jenny needs to fetch the lubricating gel. Mustn't have the help getting ideas."
"Might not need it, mum. Look at 'er. She's juicing like a well-squeezed lemon!" Clara felt an irrational urge to cover herself with her hands, even as Jenny's finger ran briskly over her thigh and came up with some… juice. She sucked it off her finger. "Mm. 1989. Good year."
"How many time travelers has the Doctor brought here like intergalactic swingers?" Clara demanded, feeling an offense that somehow made the fire between her legs burn hotter.
"Oh, hardly any." Vastra sat on the bed, patting its mattress beside her. "Bring her here, Jenny. Let's find out if she's as loose as Donna."
Pulling her hand like a little kid, Jenny excitedly led Clara to the bed, then impishly shoved her onto it. Clara would've been upset, but Vastra rolled on top of her and gave her a kiss almost deep enough to distract her from Jenny padding over the mattress on all fours.
Then Jenny touched her from the left as Vastra kissed her from the right—just a soothing caress down her cheek but Clara wanted to moan—Vastra wouldn't let her, her tongue was fixed in Clara's mouth like a snake's fangs. Clara just had to moan into Vastra's lips as those clever, coarse, worker's hands slid over her chest, fingertips tweaking her nipples, and over her stomach, and into the well-maintained hair covering her sex, and atop her clit.
Clara broke free of Vastra just long enough to exclaim "Oh fuck!" at the small circles that sped over her clit like tiny race cars.
"Language, dear," Vastra chided.
"Said the woman having a three-way."
"I prefer ménage à trois. And you're the one who works with children. You must be in the habit of using proper language, even when a lesbian slut such as my wife is about to slip two fingers into your wet pussy."
That was the only warning Clara received. Two callused fingers slid into her, and easily at that. Clara moaned, desperately horny. The penetration was everything she'd hoped for, as good as the best sex her flat in London had seen—but she wanted more.
"Oh my, she is loose!" Jenny cried, a fangy grin spreading on her face. "Did you see that? Two whole fingers in like a knife through butter! Makes Donna look like a virgin, she does. Wonder if she even felt it?"
"Oh, I do believe she felt it." Vastra ran a coldblooded finger over Clara's granite nipple, atop a breast that was heaving with need. "But let's give her three, shall we?"
"Yes ma'am," Jenny said, as obediently as if she were going to fetch the mail for Vastra, then she drew out her two fingers only to slam three back in.
Clara groaned with strangled pleasure, Vastra holding her tight to keep her from flying right off the bed. She thrust her hips as much as she could with Vastra restraining her. Soon, Jenny had to hold Clara down with her free hand as well. Vastra was too surprised by Clara's reaction to do more than watch as Jenny roughly plowed the time traveler with three stiffened fingers until she felt Clara clench at last on her digits—the first sign of tightness she'd encountered.
"Oy! She came! Without permission!"
Vastra smiled fondly at Jenny. "My love, Clara is our guest. She can come as much as she wishes. She needn't ask permission."
Jenny lowered her head, muttering something about fairness. Vastra just nodded lovingly, knowing that having to ask for double-digit orgasms was not so heavy a burden.
"That was magical!" Clara exclaimed when she'd come down, Jenny's fingers still in her, drawing out and back in with almost lovingly slow movements. It felt amazing. She'd have to remember that for the next time she used her dildo. Perhaps she wouldn't even pull up her sheets. "Oh yes, that was simply the best!"
"Was? Past-tense?" Vastra deployed another of her superior smiles, this one magnanimous. "Clara, we're not done fucking you. We haven't even found how loose you truly are. Jenny, four fingers I should think."
"Four!" Clara said with the flavor of a curse, thinking that if being fucked by three fingers had been that, then four would be… a little intimidating, actually.
There was no time for thought. Jenny's fingers, pinky and all, slid in. There was no pain, just shockingly intense pleasure. Clara's breasts heaved like billows, daring anyone to try and grab their furiously oscillating contours as Clara humped back and forth to fuck herself on Jenny's willing fingers.
Vastra took the challenge, gripping Clara's left breast in her whole hand, the cold-blooded flesh of her palm like an ice cube on Clara's already stiff nipple. Clara wailed her thankfulness to her two lovers, ending in the only congratulation they cared about—another stiff tug at Jenny's fingers as Clara burst into orgasm.
"Felt it that time!" Jenny reported. She looked up at Clara with a fierce grin, even as her mistress's fingers tapered off Clara's slowing breast. "This end of you certainly has seen a lot of business, hasn't it?"
"No more than usual," Clara said defensively. Dildos didn't count, did they? She did use them about once a week; twice if she was in a good mood, three times if she was in a bad mood, four times if she'd been on a date, five times if one of the Winchesters took his shirt off on the week's Supernatural, six times if she went on a trip with the Doctor, okay, seven times, eight tops. Unless it was nine.
"No more than usual!" Jenny giggled like she'd taken a fresh hit of hashish, a lark. "Where are you from, the 51stcentury?"
"Use your whole hand," Vastra ordered, "there's a girl."
"Your—" Clara started, but Jenny was already sliding her four fingers back and forth. Sudden nervousness had Clara tensing up—she'd been fingered before, by man-hands, so she was no stranger to a healthy bit of touch and go, but fisting? That was—that was something sluts did!
"Settle down," Jenny said, looking up at Clara now with the same calm warmth that Vastra was stroking Clara's sides. Each relaxing her, soothing her. "Just get comfortable. Trust me, Vastra's much tighter than you and she can take my fist twice a week. My hands are really quite small."
That was not reassuring, not as Clara was squirming around, trying to find some position in which having a fist in her pussy wasn't a daunting prospect. Jenny waited patiently, until Vastra's smoothing pressure on Clara's skin took hold, and the time traveler settled down against the bed. Now her head was in Vastra's lap, and the Silurian was petting her hair sweetly.
"The fist, Ms. Flint," Vastra said formally.
Jenny gently prodded the top of Clara's labia with her thumb, flicking at her clit to make it better for her. "This'll feel a bit weird, but it's just you knowing you've got a whole hand up your cunt. Nothing untoward. I dare say you've had bigger!"
"Where? At a donkey show?"
"I'm not one to judge, miss."
"Jenny," Vastra said impatiently. "She's taken four fingers in half as many minutes. I do believe she can handle the fist of a small human female."
"I am not small, I am petite!" Jenny protested. "Look, my great big human hand is probably going to rip her open now!"
"Wait, wha—" Clara started to say, as Jenny rapidly but carefully slid her last digit in, hand curving into a phallic shape. But it wasn't painful. It was intense. Good. Jenny's hand was sucked in almost to the wrist, Clara's body proving very welcoming indeed.
"Oh, sorry, sorry!" Jenny said, hand still, realizing what she's done. "I just thought, you being so loose and all—sorry miss, I should've told you! It'll hurt for just a tidge, but then it's going to start to feel real good."
"Keep going!" Clara groaned.
"Whasit?"
"Don't stop! Keep going!" Having four fingers inside her had been overwhelming. Five was indescribable. Clara could barely speak except to beg for more, and thankfully Jenny complied, relieving Clara of even that small duty.
Clara moaned and moaned, her fuse rapidly burning down, and she felt herself tighten at Jenny's fist like she meant to pull it inside her for all time. During her orgasm, it was a real, physical pressure inside her, something she felt even through unimaginable pleasure, and she felt acutely possessive of that leaden weight in her cunt. Especially since Jenny, bless her soul, kept thrusting while Clara came back down.
"Oh, miss," she was saying. "Oh, miss, look at you." Clara's pussy was spread wide before her invading hand, the clit stood up proud and tall, sweat glossing her body like a mist of perfume, a wonderful breathlessness parting her lips and animating her cleavage. She was a picture of sensuality, a masterpiece.
Vastra began a series of teasing kisses as Clara tried to breathe through the pleasure she'd just felt. Clara's neck strained upwards for more, but Vastra drew back, only willing to part with tiny butterfly kisses to Clara's face and throat. Clara wondered if this was something reserved for the marriage.
"I think she wants some more," Vastra said, when Clara had once more caught her breath.
Clara nodded without thinking, then thought. "I'm full. Filled up. There can't be anymore, can there?"
"Oh, you precious girl. There's always a little more."
Vastra finally gave Clara her kiss, long and passionate, but somehow restrained—distant from those she shared with Jenny. Then she slid down Clara's body to join her wife between the teacher's well-spread legs.
"Mmm," Vastra keened, practically licking her lips as she observed Clara's equally well-spread pussy for herself. Then her tongue did flick out, tasting the air, the heat and fragrant perfume coming off Clara's sex and around Jenny's hand. "Yes. I do think there's room for me as well."
"I'll say! Her muff must be half and again as big as mine!"
Clara let loose an affronted gasp at Jenny's rudeness that had Madame Vastra rushing to her guest's defense. "So are her tits," Vastra observed archly.
"More than a handful's a waste," Jenny replied in a snide voice. But she looked up at Clara apologetically, realizing the offense she'd caused. "Sorry, miss. There's nothing to be ashamed about... I mean, there's no sense in keeping yourself tight for some man."
"I like men," Clara said.
"After tonight, you'll like us more."
Vastra teased Clara's opening, running her finger both over Jenny's wet wrist and around Clara's stretched labia. Despite Clara's proven looseness, they went slow and cautiously, following Vastra's lead. They took turns nipping at Clara's engorged clit, bringing Clara to a relaxed, dream-like orgasm. She'd become used to the solid presence within her, the ebb and flow its pleasure brought her.
"My turn," Vastra said softly, rubbing her finger faster now beside Clara's wrist, gently prying at the entry she'd chosen. Jenny kissed Clara's thigh as her wife went in, finger pumping slowly, an inch, then two, then all the way in.
Clara's mouth fell open, stricken. That she felt. Its newness, the fact that it made six fingers inside her, kept the pleasure of her latest orgasm swirling through her.
"Let us defer to Clara's judgment," Vastra said, "seeing as double-fisting is a ways beyond even our experimenting."
"Wise decision, m'lady," Jenny agreed with a quick kiss to her wife. "Clara, are you ready for another? Let's see if you can take two fists at once!"
Clara nodded as vigorously as she could manage, though even she wasn't sure if she was responding to the prospect of another finger or that of having both women inside her at once.
"Don't think she can speak, the poor dear," Vastra said. "Still, that was plainly a nod…" With painful slowness, a second finger slipped inside. Vastra seemed to grow colder the more heated Clara got, so in her more-than-overheated pussy, the Silurian's fingers were a blessed chill.
Jenny was beside herself with lust, face buried in Vastra's neck, sucking hard on the thin, delicate scales there that she knew brought Vastra such pleasure. But her eyes were fixed on Clara's open pussy as a third finger teased her sex. Awaiting its turn.
"Another?" Vastra asked as politely as a hostess offering a guest another lump of sugar in their tea. A nod from Clara and it was three fingers, one fist.
As an objective, non-human scientist, it could be said that Vastra knew human anatomy better than Clara knew herself. So it was not much of a surprise that she found Clara's G-spot, fully ninety-nine years before Earth science would be aware of it.
Her orgasm nearly propelled Clara off the bed, but her hostesses were too well-mannered to allow that. They held her down in practiced unison. Donna had been much stronger.
"Another?" Vastra asked solicitously.
Clara could not have known whether she was referring to another finger or another orgasm like the one she had just received. Either way, she gave a stiff nod and then four fingers were alongside Jenny's fist. Now it felt somewhat uncomfortable, a bit squirm-inducing—a feeling the Clara of twenty-four hours prior would've predicted as coming when she'd taken three fingers, let alone nine. But travel does broaden many things. As do fourteen-inches dildos, like the one Clara kept under her bed.
"Nod," Vastra said, now an order, and Clara did just that. Openly begging to be double-fisted.
With a spot of pride, Vastra tucked her thumb against her palm to push her entire hand against Clara's now-gushing pussy.
Jenny frantically kissing Clara's leg, willing her to open up for her mistress. "Relax, miss. Don't clench. There's a good girl." She watched, in disbelief that she wouldn't give a giant monster or a futuristic hologram, as Vastra's fingers curled ever so slightly to fit in beside Jenny's own fist.
Clara's breathing keened raggedly, her eyes bulging, the cords standing out in her throat as she finally said to herself that this, this was what sex was supposed to feel like. Not the dutiful rolls with boyfriends, not the frustrating dissatisfaction of solo sessions, but this push, racing and unhurried at the same time, toward being consumed by one's own pleasure. Then Vastra pushed past the ring of muscle that had kept her out up to that point.
Now it hurt, though not nearly as much as Clara would've thought if you'd asked her to imagine being fisted by two women. She felt tears collecting in her eyes, teeth biting into her lip hard enough to draw blood, but Jenny's thumb was dragging across her clit every time she moved it and Vastra's scaly knuckles rubbed against her g-spot like the tide eroding a rock. The pleasure made the pain into nothing.
"We did it!" Jenny cried, ecstatic that they'd actually managed to double-fist a woman who, that day prior, had not even let a man finger her ass.
She was not as ecstatic as Clara, though.
"Well done, Clara. You took it all. I didn't know you had it in you, though you certainly do now." Jenny laughed at her mistress's joke, then Vastra mused, "There's just one thing left."
Jenny hummed questioningly.
"A kiss."
Jenny knew exactly what she had in mind. The married couple inclined their heads to each other, though their lips did not meet. Rather, they met around Clara's inflamed clit, Clara feeling every iota of passion they held for each other on the most sensitive place on her body, and she found her voice as she arched off the bed, this time with no one to hold her down.
Her scream was still echoing through the chamber when she found herself upside-down and halfway off the bed, though her lower half was still topping the mattress and, thankfully, within arm's reach of Vastra and Jenny.
"Think we've gone and ruined her, ma'am," Jenny said, trying hard not to sound pleased with herself.
"Jenny—" Vastra said warningly.
"Sorry, miss!" Jenny looked down at Clara. "It's just even I need a bit more of a warm-up before I can take it past the wrist. I'm nearly up to my elbow inside you! Don't know if you'll be able to even feel a man after this, like them as you may."
"Jenny," Vastra chided once more. "That's not how vaginas work."
"If you say so, ma'am." Jenny bit her lip. "Then, I suppose there's no harm in doubling up on her cunt a little more?"
Below them, Clara nodded enthusiastically.
Half an hour, and countless orgasms later, they'd finally pulled Clara back up to the bed so that each could suck on one of her bountiful breasts, forearms now buried in her gaping cunt, moving in and out in tandem to churn her belly. It was then that Vastra recalled that, though they'd started all this with the simple, innocent intention of opening Clara up for a Silurian tongue-fucking (also the name of a rather nice drink on Rigel V), they'd never actually gotten around to it.
And so, wagering that Clara would nod her head for just about anything (correct) and that she loved surprises (also correct), Vastra maneuvered Clara onto her side, used her free hand to spread open her wonderfully svelte asscheeks, and placed her mouth at her virgin asshole.
She was considerate enough to lick once, for lubrication beyond the gushing orgasms that had already leaked down there, before she slipped Clara the tongue.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, DOCTOR, FUCK!" Clara screamed in mere seconds, Jenny watching in aroused fascination as she practically defied physics, she jerked so hard. The maid's hand was trapped by the tightening of Clara's walls, and she mirrored her wife in licking at Clara's entrance to help her ride our her orgasm.
Not that anything could help Clara. Finally, at long last, she was filled up completely. The pleasure was too much, as was the pain, and when she closed her eyes, she saw something very much like the time vortex. She screamed and covered Vastra's arm, Jenny's arm, the bedspread, and her own legs in her climax–
And never an ounce of fakery.
She just hoped they'd recorded it.
When Clara unclenched, Jenny very carefully tugged her hand out from inside her. Vastra followed, even slower. She enjoyed humans' warmth, particularly that of their interior. So exotic. When her green hand was out, she flexed her fingers with an eye for whether they were broken. No such misfortune had occurred, despite Clara's best efforts. Although, she did note that not a scale from her shoulder down had avoided Clara's arousal.
She and Jenny linked arms and licked each other's hands clean of said wetness, in the manner of a couple sharing a toast. It was perhaps not a crime for a couple to be so enamored of each other, but still, Vastra felt a touch embarrassed when she finally turned to regard Clara.
Fortunately, in the wake of no longer having any overwhelming ecstasy to experience, her body had simply shut down, leaving Clara bent over the side of the bed, ass in the air, head landed on one of the many pillows that had been knocked from the pull-down bed.
Beside Vastra, Jenny was blushing like she hadn't since the first two dozen orgasms of their relationship. Now even she felt embarrassed by how truly depraved the sex had become. But it was mixed with fondness toward the slender brunette they had entertained for the night, who the two now pulled up onto the bed and tucked in, her unready body utterly worn out.
Pulling a silk sheet majestically over all three of them, and placing herself carefully within arm's reach of Clara as she took Jenny to her breast, Vastra felt like she'd just had a full shedding. "You know, I dare say she's still a little hung-up on the Doctor."
"Well, we did our best," Jenny mollified. "And they'd make a good couple. Where else should a Time Lord go but into a TARDIS?" Vastra raised a questioning eyebrow. "After tonight, I think our Clara is most definitely bigger on the inside."
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A Quick Stop-Off for Tea and Fisting