Title: Rhetorical Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Clara/Missy Rating: NC-17 Warning: Dub-Con elements, unsafe kink
1/2
"Have you learned yet that it's best if you just do what I tell you?"
Clara didn't answer.
Clara wouldn't answer because with Missy every question was a trap.
Clara couldn't answer right now either. A strip of tape had been slapped on her mouth for being 'too bloody chatty'.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question," Missy raised her eyebrows, hands on her hips, one finger tapping impatiently.
Clara's arms were bound to the headboard above her head with metal chains. She was dangerously vulnerable. It was terrifying, and at the same time thrilling in a way that made her desperately aroused. What was wrong with her that this psychobitch made her horny?
Missy was wearing just a corset, it was purple with white lace.
Clara met her eyes. Defiant. Unwilling to answer and get punished and toyed with either way.
Missy pounced onto the bed. She bounced a few times then slapped Clara across the face hard. She left her hand on Clara's cheek, keeping her head turned and pushing her into the pillow. Missy leaned in close to Clara's ear. "How about I fist that pretty cunt? Would you like that?" With her other hand she squashed one of Clara's nipples hard with the nails of her thumb and index finger.
Clara groaned loud. Her back arched. Missy pressed her nails in harder and pulled.
When Missy finally pulled away Clara nodded enthusiastically.
"Are you saying yes to having learned or yes to..." she made a punching motion with her right hand. "Or yes to both?" Missy's left hand went down Clara's body, just as she was about to touch between her legs she suddenly slapped Clara directly on her pussy.
Clara flinched and gave a muffled yelp.
Missy slapped her again, then again, laughing.
Clara didn't know herself why she wanted this. It didn’t feel like something she should want. It felt dark and dangerous. Maybe it was everything she'd seen and experienced with the Doctor, maybe all the risk and shadow had changed her.
All she knew was that she didn't want Missy to end this.
She wanted Missy to do anything, everything, that she wanted to.
From a little concealed pocket in the corset Missy produced a small bottle. She opened it and poured some of the liquid inside on her right hand. She tucked the bottle away and spread the liquid with her other hand.
When she was done her right hand looked wet and shiny. Whatever the liquid was Clara recognised that it was some kind of lubricant.
"Do let me know if I hurt you," Missy said. "That'll make it lots more fun." She winked and moved to the bottom of the bed.
Without being asked Clara spread her legs wide. She looked down. Missy's eyes were on her sex. Eyes that were full of dark glee.
Clara's heavy wetness and the lubricant made it little effort to get the third in. Missy made a sawing motion with her rigid fingers, watching them slide in and out of Clara's pink slit.
Clara moaned and jerked her hips. The chains rattled. The cheap mattress creaked and popped. She felt dirty and sexy. Sinful and sublime. She had no idea where the edge was with Missy. She had no idea where the limits were. Here she was, pushing another boundary, breaking another wall.
Missy wriggled and twisted and then the fourth, the little pinkie finger that suddenly seemed not so little, pushed in.
Missy was talking but not loud enough for Clara to hear, her predatory eyes still on Clara's cunt.
Clara stretched and opened. She wished she could open her mouth, wished she could say something or scream something. There was a moment when Missy thrust too hard and too deep and it hurt. Clara's eye watered, a few tears dripped onto the pillow.
Missy just carried on, relentless.
It felt good again. So full, so...
Missy tucked her thumb in behind her fingers and in it went.
Clara's eyes were wide.
Missy rocked and turned her hand inside Clara.
It took little time to bring Clara to a body-shaking climax.
Missy kept her hand inside.
When she judged Clara had regained enough of her senses to understand Missy looked up at her. "Oh Clara?"
Clara, breathing hard through her nose, chest heaving, thighs quivering, met Missy's eyes.
Missy's left hand crept up the inside of Clara's thigh then down, under Missy's inserted fist. Her middle finger came to rest on Clara's arsehole. "I wonder if I could get my other hand in here."
Clara was excited and scared by the idea. It showed on her face.
"Let's find out shall we?"
This time Missy's question was entirely rhetorical.
Prompt: Doctor Who, Clara/Missy, fisting
Title: Rhetorical
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Clara/Missy
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Dub-Con elements, unsafe kink
1/2
"Have you learned yet that it's best if you just do what I tell you?"
Clara didn't answer.
Clara wouldn't answer because with Missy every question was a trap.
Clara couldn't answer right now either. A strip of tape had been slapped on her mouth for being 'too bloody chatty'.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question," Missy raised her eyebrows, hands on her hips, one finger tapping impatiently.
Clara's arms were bound to the headboard above her head with metal chains. She was dangerously vulnerable. It was terrifying, and at the same time thrilling in a way that made her desperately aroused. What was wrong with her that this psychobitch made her horny?
Missy was wearing just a corset, it was purple with white lace.
Clara met her eyes. Defiant. Unwilling to answer and get punished and toyed with either way.
Missy pounced onto the bed. She bounced a few times then slapped Clara across the face hard. She left her hand on Clara's cheek, keeping her head turned and pushing her into the pillow. Missy leaned in close to Clara's ear. "How about I fist that pretty cunt? Would you like that?" With her other hand she squashed one of Clara's nipples hard with the nails of her thumb and index finger.
Clara groaned loud. Her back arched. Missy pressed her nails in harder and pulled.
When Missy finally pulled away Clara nodded enthusiastically.
"Are you saying yes to having learned or yes to..." she made a punching motion with her right hand. "Or yes to both?" Missy's left hand went down Clara's body, just as she was about to touch between her legs she suddenly slapped Clara directly on her pussy.
Clara flinched and gave a muffled yelp.
Missy slapped her again, then again, laughing.
Clara didn't know herself why she wanted this. It didn’t feel like something she should want. It felt dark and dangerous. Maybe it was everything she'd seen and experienced with the Doctor, maybe all the risk and shadow had changed her.
All she knew was that she didn't want Missy to end this.
She wanted Missy to do anything, everything, that she wanted to.
From a little concealed pocket in the corset Missy produced a small bottle. She opened it and poured some of the liquid inside on her right hand. She tucked the bottle away and spread the liquid with her other hand.
When she was done her right hand looked wet and shiny. Whatever the liquid was Clara recognised that it was some kind of lubricant.
"Do let me know if I hurt you," Missy said. "That'll make it lots more fun." She winked and moved to the bottom of the bed.
Without being asked Clara spread her legs wide. She looked down. Missy's eyes were on her sex. Eyes that were full of dark glee.
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2/2
One finger slid in easy-peasy.
After a few thrusts it was joined by a second.
Clara's heavy wetness and the lubricant made it little effort to get the third in. Missy made a sawing motion with her rigid fingers, watching them slide in and out of Clara's pink slit.
Clara moaned and jerked her hips. The chains rattled. The cheap mattress creaked and popped. She felt dirty and sexy. Sinful and sublime. She had no idea where the edge was with Missy. She had no idea where the limits were. Here she was, pushing another boundary, breaking another wall.
Missy wriggled and twisted and then the fourth, the little pinkie finger that suddenly seemed not so little, pushed in.
Missy was talking but not loud enough for Clara to hear, her predatory eyes still on Clara's cunt.
Clara stretched and opened. She wished she could open her mouth, wished she could say something or scream something. There was a moment when Missy thrust too hard and too deep and it hurt. Clara's eye watered, a few tears dripped onto the pillow.
Missy just carried on, relentless.
It felt good again. So full, so...
Missy tucked her thumb in behind her fingers and in it went.
Clara's eyes were wide.
Missy rocked and turned her hand inside Clara.
It took little time to bring Clara to a body-shaking climax.
Missy kept her hand inside.
When she judged Clara had regained enough of her senses to understand Missy looked up at her. "Oh Clara?"
Clara, breathing hard through her nose, chest heaving, thighs quivering, met Missy's eyes.
Missy's left hand crept up the inside of Clara's thigh then down, under Missy's inserted fist. Her middle finger came to rest on Clara's arsehole. "I wonder if I could get my other hand in here."
Clara was excited and scared by the idea. It showed on her face.
"Let's find out shall we?"
This time Missy's question was entirely rhetorical.
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