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Slave For You	By : TheAllonsyGirl Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 6888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the official characters. I make no money from these works, DW belongs to BBC and all its affiliates.

Chapter List
- 1-Slave For You
- 1
Rose smoothed her pink lip gloss on liberally and licked her lips, before giving herself a cheeky wink in the mirror, as she smoothed her hands down over her body to straighten out her jacket. She'd opted for a pink and black tight sport jacket, tight black trousers, and trainers. She may have been going to a fancy party but she wasn't going to polish herself up for the occasion; especially since she wasn't invited. She knew the Doctor was going to be there, but she wasn't going to see him, oh no; she had other things in mind. She had her eye on a much spicier dish, and if Rose knew one thing, it was hot to get exactly what she wanted. She popped a piece of chewing gum into her mouth and picked up her pink purse, with a gold-coloured clasp, and after a quick spray of her Chanel perfume, she left her bedroom, and trotted down the mini staircase of her mother's Powell Estate home.
"Mum, I'm going out now, don't wait up," she poked her tongue out and winked. Her mother, Jackie, shared the look and spoke oblivious to her daughter's true intentions;
"You go and get him girl," she grinned and handed her a ten pound note. Rose took it with her pink-nailed fingers and slipped it inside her bra. She would use it to buy some cheap Lambrini on the way to the party, so she's be more than a little drunk when she got there. She strolled out of the door, after checking she had her keys, and jogged lightly to the nearest bus stop. The bus was due to arrive in the next two minutes, which Rose knew to mean the next ten minutes; as she always said; buses are like men, when you want one, there's never any, but when you don't, four show up at once. She chuckled to herself as she thought about this, and much to her surprise, the bus arrived only one minute after it was supposed to;
"Central please," she eyed up the bus driver, chewing her gum loudly, and pulling change out of the tight pocket of her trousers;
"Two quid, love," he replied, and she dropped the coins into the waiting slot. She tore her ticket off with vigour, and swung round the pole and into the nearest seat. The bus wasn't too busy for eight o'clock she had thought to herself, and she crossed her right leg over her left casually, as the bus jolted back to life. She rode the bus for a full twenty minutes, her headphones blasting techno-trance music, much to the annoyance of everyone else who was within a metre's radius from her. She gave anyone who made themselves known to be annoyed a filthy glare and tutted loudly back at them. When her stop approached, she pressed bell several times, much to the annoyance of the driver;
"Once was enough," he spoke with derision and Rose rolled her thickly-made-up eyes at him;
"Right, whatever, thanks," she jumped off the bus as it pulled to a stop and turned around to cross as it pulled away. She pressed the crossing button, the wait symbol flashing up on the small screen above it; she needn't have bothered, since she broke into a light jog to get across as soon as it was clear. One car had gotten rather close as she'd almost reached the pavement, and he honked at her in protest. She didn't even turn to look at him, she only flipped him off and carried on. She approached the hall of the gala and scanned around; there were bouncers on the doors, and there was a large sign up on a board indicating she was in the right place;
A DEMONSTRATION BY PROFESSOR LAZARUS.
She didn't bother to read the rest, she just needed to find herself a way in. She considered flirting with the bouncers, getting them to let her in on a false promise of a hook-up, but these guys looked as though they wouldn't bat an eyelid if a Playboy bunny walked their way. So she decided her only option was to find another way in. She walked a little further down the street and slipped into the Bargain Booze on the corner, grabbing herself a bottle of Lambrini. She took it up to the counter and placed it down, her face full of what would be perceived as boredom.
"Got any I.D love?" the middle-aged store clerk eyed her up in a lecherous way as he asked her; seemingly only interested in her age because he fancied his chances of a go with her. Rose rolled her eyes and pulled out her fake I.D card from her back pocket. Mickey had gotten it for her back when they were dating, and she'd made good use out of it, that was for sure. The clerk perused it, and upon seeing it was up to spec as far as his naive, untrained eyes could see, he took her money from her hands, staring at her breasts as he did so. This did not escape Rose;
"Oi, my face is up here, perv," she scowled and put one hand on her hip. She snatched her change back from the man as he looked down at the counter, flustered at having been caught staring. She rolled her eyes, and grabbed the bottle. She used her sharp nails to break the seal, and she pulled the screw-top off as she left the store. She tipped it back and took several large gulps of it, before wiping her mouth with her hand. She shoved the bottle into the carrier bag, and walked back towards the event hall.
As she returned, she noticed an alleyway, and she walked down into it, with little fear, only curiosity. She found herself behind the building, and she jumped up to sit on the low, faded brick wall next to the staff car park. She re-opened her bottle and slugged a fair amount as she studied the building. She spied an open window on the first floor, but she'd need some help getting up there. There were large, pitted metal dumpster bins by the back door, and once she had cleaned out the remainder of the bottle, she sidled over to them, throwing the bottle inside as she approached. She tried the back exist, on a sheer, yet naive shred of hope that she'd be lucky; she wasn't. She grabbed the grimy metal handle of one of the bins and pulled as hard as she was able, groaning at the excursion of it, her head now a little light from the alcohol.
After several minutes of pulling and manoevuring, she managed to get herself into position. She clambered up on top of the dumpster, careful not to step in any waste residue. She managed to grip the small window ledge, and with what little arm strength she had left, she pulled herself up to the ledge. She wavered slightly as she got to her knees, but she managed to slide into the room, without falling to her injury. As she wiped her hands on her trousers, she took a look around the room. She'd found herself in the men's toilets.
"Great, just my luck," she muttered to herself, as she walked over to the sinks to wash her hands.
She dried them on her trousers, as the paper towel dispenser was unsurprisingly empty. Rose's head shot round to the door as she heart the external door to the bathrooms opening, she dived into the solitary cubicle, and locked the door, jumping up onto the toilet seat, to hid herself. She heard a gentleman walk into the toilets, light-footed, and whistling to himself. Rose crooked her head down to try and see the man, and her blood ran cold when she looked underneath the stall. She saw the familiar white Chuck Taylor's, the long cuffs of his brown trousers with blue pinstripes, and an almost-trailing, long, brown coat. She bit her lip and stood up quietly, peeping over the stall discreetly. He hadn't noticed her, and he carried on unzipping himself, and began to relieve himself. Rose raised an eyebrow after having a less-than-lady-like look at what he had hidden away down there. She smirked to herself and slunk back down.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, and waited, breathing as quietly as she possibly could. After he's finished, The Doctor washed his hands, muttering some complaint about Martha's mother under his breath. He paused for a slight second as he reached the door, and he turned back to look at the cubicle door. He frowned, and then shook his head. He could have sworn he could smell Rose's perfume. He shook his head again and left. As the door closed, Rose unfolded her legs, and climbed off the toilet seat, unlocking the door, and slipping out of the cubicle.
"I need to stay out of his way, he'll only try and stop me," she mused out loud, and reached to her mouth to throw the chewing gum, which by now had lost its flavour, in the bin to her left. She refreshed it with a new one and made for the door. She opened it slowly, and slipped into the tiny vestibule between the two doors, and out through the second one. She was met with a sight she had to shake her head to believe she was seeing. In the centre of the room, was a gargantuan, white machine; it looked clinical and harsh in the lighting from the stage.
There were people milling about everywhere, all in fancy dresses and penguin suits. She scanned around as best she could from where she was, in hopes of locating the Doctor. She spotted him gesturing wildly to an older gentleman, who was wearing a bowtie, that he kept readjusting. The man seemed a little nervous around the Doctor, who was manically gesturing, and almost bouncing off the floor in his animated way. Rose chuckled to herself; she knew what he was like. She shook her head; she wasn't here for him tonight. She found herself a chair in the midst of all the chaos, and she accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter, who looked curiously at her. If he knew she wasn't supposed to be there, he kept it to himself. As she sipped her champagne, she looked around at the refined company she had found herself immersed in, and a small, seductive smile played on her lips when she finally acquired her target.
She involuntarily licked her lips and scanned down the body of her object of desire. Her coffee-coloured skin looked creamy and glossy in the staged lights, her black heels making her legs look endless and delicious, as her eyes scanned up further, her prom-style purple dress left her curves to the imagination of anyone who set their eyes on her, including Rose. The dark midnight purple hue of the dress gave her an even more mystical aura. As she turned to speak to someone else, her front became visible; her plunging neckline holding her ample chest in a position that remained classy, everywhere but Rose's mind of course. Her dark hair flowed like a rippling stream down her her shoulders, her bejeweled headband giving her an innocent, yet glamorous undertone. Her make up was subtly, but her eyes spoke volumes as they connected with those around her. They were dark, and inviting, sensuous and alluring, her lips the fullest pinkish beige Rose had ever seen.
She was going to have her. She knew that much, her only question was how would she get her? She had her ways. Some orthodox, others not so much. Whilst she'd never force someone against their will, she was not above rough play, to get her point across. A girl may think she's straight, but Rose did well to remember that spaghetti was straight also; until it got hot. She curved her lips into a smirk and rose to her feet.
Rose took even, yet determined strides over to where Martha was chattering to a middle-aged woman, who seemed wildly amused by whatever anecdote she was hearing. Rose reached out and placed her fingers against her wrist.
"I need to talk to you," she uttered, closer to her ear than Martha expected her to be;
"Rose! Er, okay, do you want me to get the Doctor, he just,--" Rose reached her hand up to Martha's lips;
"No, no, no, o, no, he doesn't know I'm here, and he's not going to, alright?" she looked at her sternly, and Martha could only nod, dumbfounded by this unlikely interruption. Rose increased her grip on Martha's arm and tugged her persistently towards the door;
"Where are we going?" she spoke, following curiously, and with little choice, as Rose urged her along behind her.
"Stop talking, I'll explain when we're alone," her words came out short and calculated. She pulled open door after door in an attempt to find a concealed location, where she could reveal the true nature of her intrusion. Finally, they reached a large room, which must have been an executive suite, given the ostentatious nature of the furnishings surrounding them. Rose let go of Martha's wrist, which was a little hot and red where her grip had pressured it, and locked the door securely. Martha put one hand on her hip as she looked around the room, curious, and a little nervous;
"Are you alright, Rose?" she broached carefully as Rose faced the door still. She turned carefully and smirked with a desirable, yet deliciously malicious smile on her face.
"I've been waiting to get you away from the Doctor for some time now," she breathed, her voice like crushed velvet and pearls, grinding against glass. Martha looked up at her, puzzled;
"Why would you want to do that?" she frowned and sat down on the bed, her bell-shaped dress riding up a little, showing a glimpse of her smooth thighs.
"You're chasing the wrong one darling, he ain't ever gonna want you," she shook her head, and felt a sick sense of joy at the slightly pained expression that painted the graceful features of Martha Jones's face.
"Let me guess, cause all he wants is you. I dunno what he sees in you," she sniffed derisively and turned her head away, as if the mere presence of Rose disgusted her.
"Oh yeah? And what's that supposed to mean?" Rose strode across the room, perturbing Martha a little.
"Nothing, just a typical bloke isn't he? Wants blonde hair and tits, not class," Martha knew she was skating on thin ice, but she felt unable to hold her distaste back any longer. Rose's eyes darkened and she lashed her hand out, connecting it fiercely with Martha's cheek. The small yelp of pain she let slip from her lips, sent a tremor down to Rose's core.
"You calling me common? 'Cause you're so classy and relined with your posh dresses, and your perfect hair, and you're a doctor?" Rose sniped, her eyes narrowed, her had pulled back, ready to slap her again.
Martha flicked her eyes up to clock Rose's angry expression and she winced slightly at the burning of her cheek;
"No! That's not what I meant! What's wrong with you?" she whined and shook her head.
"You ask too many questions for a girl of your intelligence. Just because you have a medical degree, it doesn't make you smart," Rose drew closer, looming over Martha now, her ponytail falling down her left shoulder as she leaned to one side. Martha was at a loss for words and only watched Rose with guarded eyes, wondering to herself what she could possibly have running through her mind. Rose took both of Martha's wrists roughly in her hands and used her momentum to pin her to the bed, in a mere few seconds, before she had time to even understand what was happening, let alone stop it.
"What are you doing?" she protested angrily trying to push her away slightly, giving up only for seconds at a time.
"Do you ever wonder what a real woman feels like? What a real woman could do to a girl like you?" Rose breathed against her ear harshly, her hands dragging down her arms, her weight shifting to pin her even closer to the bed.
"I'm straight, I don't do that," Martha sounded offended by the insinuation that she could potentially be a lesbian.
"That's what they all say, until they've met me," she smirked and gripped her shoulders hard. Her fingers wrapped around the straps of Martha's dress and with a strong pull, they tore beneath them.
"What are you doing? This dress cost three hundred quid!" Martha exclaimed, looking at the frayed material which was laying in scraps in the blonde girl's hands.
"Lucky I don't care about the dress, I just want what's underneath it," Rose spoke almost viciously as she continued to tear the material, all the way down Martha's body, revealing inch upon inch of caramel flesh beneath it. Martha had stopped trying to struggle by now, she had come to the realisation that she was to be at the mercy of this blonde, casually beautiful, and common as hell girl, and there was nothing she could do. With the remains of her dress lying in tatters, Martha could no longer cover her supple skin, or her perfectly rounded hips.
Rose licked her lips and roughly slid her fingers of her right hand down her torso and with no hesitation, plunged them inside her, in a rough movement. Martha tried out, not in protest but in shock, at what was happening to her. She didn't protest because although in the back of her mind she knew she shouldn't; she liked it. She liked the feel of soft, perfectly manicured fingers touching her, and she knew that regardless of what she had ever experienced before now; no man had ever come close to satisfying her carnal need.
"Try and tell me again how you don't like girls, that I'm not what you want, that you don't delight in me taking you, and making you my toy." She hissed in Martha's ear, and used her free hand to tear away her underwear. Martha attempted to make a sound, but it came out as no more than a squeak.
"That's what I thought," Rose breathed in her ear, swiftly nipping at it with her teeth, harder than she probably should have. Martha yelped and reached her hand up to touch Rose's cheek, only to be slapped down again.

"No," she grabbed the back of her hair and pressed her face right up to hers.

"You don't do that," her eyes glittered with merciless, carnal need. She pushed her back further still and slowly climbed off;
"You wait there. Even one inch away from where you are now and I'll punish you," she turned swiftly and slipped into the conjoining bathroom. She studied the rustic chrome room for instruments she could use in her little game. She looked down at her belt and smiled as she unbuckled it.
"Good start," she mumbled to herself. She opened up the cabinets, still listening intently, for any stirring in the next room. She picked up the large wooden paddle brush from the inside of the cabinet, and grabbed the roll of bandage from the top shelf, and closed the cupboard. She walked out of the bathroom carrying her chosen items, and laid them on the bed side table.
"You've moved," she uttered, her hands placed on her hips, she shook her head and tutted. Martha shook her head;"No, I didn't, honest," she whimpered, her eyes wide and fearful, but somehow still willing and curious. Rose narrowed her eyes and stalked over to her. She roughly pulled her bra and underwear from her body.
"Turn around," she ordered and gestured with her hand. Martha hesitated for a second, then did as she was told. Rose began to unravel some of the bandage, she tore strips with her teeth and pulled Martha's hands together roughly. She wound the bandage thickly around her wrists, and around the metal frame to keep her right where she wanted her. She let the rest of the bandage unravel between her fingers, as it dropped to the floor. She pulled her hips, so as to move her into a better position.
Martha allowed herself to be pulled around by Rose, a slave to her own curious need. Rose wrapped her fingers around the paddle brush, and laid it next to Martha, on the soft quilted material. She pulled the zipper of her jacket down, and pulled it off, casting it to the floor. She removed her shoes, her socks, and her tight trousers; everything she was wearing until she stood in only her underwear. She waited a long minute before she removed those, and she twisted Martha's body around so she was facing her, but still tied backwards. She positioned herself so that she was straddled over her shoulders and she tugged her head back roughly by her hair;

"Fuck me," she ordered, her voice harsh and riddled with heat. She locked her eyes onto Martha's, as they deepened.

"My hands are--" Martha began, but stopped as she saw Rose's hand twitch as if to slap her again.

"You have a mouth don't you?" she said and smiled devilishly, pulling her head to her crotch and closing her eyes. Martha looked up at her and blinked a few times, wincing at the tug on her hair, and yelped softly as her mouth came into contact with Rose’s warm, moist skin. She licked at her teasingly, as Rose pulled her hair and dug her nails into her coffee-coloured flesh. She could do little to prevent what was happening, that had become evident, but in her mind, somewhere deep down she craved it. Rose wrapped her right leg around the back of Martha’s shoulders, urging her further against her;
“Harder,” she bit at her with her words, and slapped the side of her head to display her growing frustration. Martha bit down on her gently, and used her tongue to cause waves of pleasure hit thousands of nerve endings all at once. The gentle alternation between pain and pleasure excited Rose, but any time she felt Martha getting too comfortable, she would smack the side of her head or yank her head back roughly by her hair; sometimes so hard that several strands detached from her scalp and laid themselves to eternal rest in Rose’s hands. Eventually, Rose shook her head to loosen the fuzzy feelings that had begun their descent from her brain to every nerve in her body.
She pulled away from Martha and grabbed the wooden paddle brush from across the bed. She turned Martha around to face the wall, and without giving her any warning, struck the supple flesh of her rear with the spiky side of the brush. Martha cried out, not in protest, but in confusion and curiosity. Rose narrowed her eyes as she noticed the reddening dots spreading like a rash upon Martha’s skin. She turned the brush around and brought it down several times in a row, using the wide, wooden paddle part. Over and over Martha yelped, her wrists pulling against her restraints, and her skin searing in pain as it became red and angry. In a graceful move, Rose switched out the brush for the leather belt she’d removed earlier and grabbed the remaining bandages from the floor. She straddled Martha to loop the bandage around her neck, and she tied it deftly, so she could be in total control of her as she degraded her even further.
She held the black, leather belt in her dominant, right hand, and used the left to hold the make-shift noose, that kept her reigned like horse. She pulled the noose tightly, her eyes falling shut as she heard the air gasping out of Martha's lips. This made Martha panic, and writhe beneath the ties that bound her, frantically trying to tell Rose that enough was enough. Rose was a strong force of nature, and nothing Martha could say or do; or anyone for that matter, would prevent her from getting what she wanted. She brought her right hand down, the thinnish sides of the belt biting into Martha's flesh, leaving angry red welt upon the coco skin. Rose let her eyes fall shut as she continued to rain heavy lashes down, each contact bringing her euphoria even higher. She pulled as tight as her left hand would allow, the increased frenzy of Martha's gasping wisps of breath, dancing in the darkish air around her was dizzying. She finally felt the crashing waves of violent orgasm course through her veins, her nerve endings, her entire body, and she let her hand slacken the noose. She dropped the belt and let out a heavy sigh. She arched her back, and leaned over to stroke the dark tide of ebony hair from Martha's face and she bit her neck gently. Martha lay rigid and unmoving.
"I told you, all you needed was a real woman to show you what it means to feel," she purred into her ear. She received no response and she frowned. She nudged her shoulder roughly;
"Oi, don't play games with me," she snapped, shaking her harder still. A sickening feeling swept over Rose in that moment, as she scanned her submissive partner's body. Her hands were limp, still bound and no longer clutching the ties, her eyes had become fixed and dilated, and her body was frail and still. She drew as close as possible to her face and grabbed her chin with her hand;
"Get up!" she yelled, and slapped her across the cheek,

"I said get up!" her voice was strangled now, meek and no longer filled with glee at her merciless torment. No breath ghosted from Martha's lips. No blood coursed through her veins. There was nothing left, that could be deemed living. Rose gulped and backed away slowly, her breathing coming in short gasps of terror. She clumsily grabbed her clothes, and dressed, stuffing the belt, the bandages, and the belt into a plastic back. She looked around the room that was now haunted by death, pervading the air.
The Doctor had searched the entirety of the party, in search of his missing companion. He had asked her family, people she'd made acquaintance with, waiters, bar staff, everyone; it was like she had vanished into thin air. He followed the warren of corridors round and round, the music fading away with every step he took. He was beginning to worry now, he had to admit. He opened door upon door as he approached them, and not a trace of Martha did he find. He finally reached a door he could not open. He frowned as he rattled the brass door knob, and he pulled out his sonic screwdriver.
Rose's heart jumped into her chest as she heard the door knob rattle; someone was trying to get inside! She ran as quickly as she could to the window, and tugged at its latch with desperation. It took several attempts but she finally got it loose. She pushed up the window frame and jumped up onto the ledge, the plastic back in teeth. She heard the faint buzzing; the familiar buzzing of a sonic; the Doctor's sonic, and as she looked down at the six foot drop below, she knew she had no other choice.
The sonic buzzed and the Doctor opened the door with ease, he pushed it open and in his peripheral vision he thought he saw a shadow.
Rose jumped from the window, biting her lip to prevent her terror from becoming an audible clue to her presence. As she landed upon the cold street, miraculously unscathed, she heard the Doctor scream, and she did the one thing he had always taught her to do; run.
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Slave For You