Fic: Lady In Red 5/10
Title: Lady In Red
Summary: Lucy Saxon's story. Warning; contains themes of violence, non con etc. You have been warned! Very adult.
Rating: Adult
Characters: Jack Harkness, Martha Jones, The Doctor (10th), The Master (Simm)
Genres: Angst, BDSM, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Non-Con, Romance
Chapter Five
It started imperceivably at first. Small comments that turned into jibes, all designed to knock Lucy’s self confidence. Comments about the way she wore her hair, her make up or what clothing she chose. He would tell her that she wore too much makeup, or not enough, that her hair was a mess, to wear it up and when she did he told her to wear it down. He criticised her clothing, telling her that her choices were too frumpy or too revealing, then he went and ordered twenty identical outfits and told her that each day she had to wear the same thing. Nothing she did was right and gradually Lucy’s self esteem began to slip away.
And then in the next breath he would be back to the old Harry, the one who complimented her, told her how beautiful she was, reminded her of how much he needed her there at his side. He would tear her down, chipping away at her confidence and then put it back together again, by plastering over the cracks in her fragile self esteem. The cracks were there though, underneath. Great monologues followed from her husband about the greatness of the Time Lords compared to stupid ape humans. When Lucy tried to join in conversations about Harry’s plans, he would look at her in the same way a disdainful parent looks at a small child, and then would tell her that she couldn’t possibly conceive the notion of his greatness. But then he would switch tact’s and tell her of the excitement he felt as he saw his plans coming together. He would sweep her up in his arms in the middle of his reverie and kiss her. He told her that power was the greatest aphrodisiac and when things were going well he oozed sexuality. Then, almost as if there was a flick of a switch, his eyes would become dark pools of anger and his disdain for her would ring out.
Their lovemaking began to change; the earlier tenderness of Harry’s administrations turned into a more aggressive touch. He would push her down onto the bed, bringing his mouth crashing down on to hers, bruising her lips with the ferocity. Whereas before he had entered her gently, giving her time to adjust to his length and width; decidedly larger than the average human male, he would now plunge into her causing her cry out in anguished pain and then would thunder onwards towards his own orgasm without a thought for hers. He would hold her down, raking his teeth and nails across her milky white skin and drawing blood. He would bite her, sinking his teeth into her breast then clamping down on her nipple and causing her to scream. He would take great handfuls of her hair and wrap it tightly around his fist and yank her head back as he took her from behind, all the time calling her a stupid whore or telling her she was worthless and good for nothing except this.
Then he would sob in her arms begging her for forgiveness, telling her the drumming in his mind was getting louder. He would hold her, clinging to her like a child reunited with a long lost parent, telling her she was his salvation. She would hold him with his head in her lap and stroke his hair, calming him, whispering the right words, promising that she would never leave him and that she would be by his side always. And as his sobs subsided, Harry would kiss her tenderly, and then make love to her as he had done on their wedding night, murmuring words of love. Together they would fall asleep, completely satiated in each others arms.
In private he ordered her to call him by his true name, to call him Master and willingly she did. Despite all his cruel treatment of Lucy, she still loved him, worshipped him. She convinced herself that he was stressed, overworked and once he was in power he would be able to delegate duties to others and thus be the Harry Saxon that she adored again. In other moments she would sob in despair and berate herself for falling for him. In truth he terrified her, he had an air about him that suggested he was capable of much darker things and Lucy didn’t want to find out what they were. At her lowest times, Harry would place his fingers on the sides of her forehead and show her once again the dream he had for them both, whilst at the same time he reinforced the compulsion in her mind that bonded her to him.
Summary: Lucy Saxon's story. Warning; contains themes of violence, non con etc. You have been warned! Very adult.
Rating: Adult
Characters: Jack Harkness, Martha Jones, The Doctor (10th), The Master (Simm)
Genres: Angst, BDSM, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Non-Con, Romance
Chapter Five
It started imperceivably at first. Small comments that turned into jibes, all designed to knock Lucy’s self confidence. Comments about the way she wore her hair, her make up or what clothing she chose. He would tell her that she wore too much makeup, or not enough, that her hair was a mess, to wear it up and when she did he told her to wear it down. He criticised her clothing, telling her that her choices were too frumpy or too revealing, then he went and ordered twenty identical outfits and told her that each day she had to wear the same thing. Nothing she did was right and gradually Lucy’s self esteem began to slip away.
And then in the next breath he would be back to the old Harry, the one who complimented her, told her how beautiful she was, reminded her of how much he needed her there at his side. He would tear her down, chipping away at her confidence and then put it back together again, by plastering over the cracks in her fragile self esteem. The cracks were there though, underneath. Great monologues followed from her husband about the greatness of the Time Lords compared to stupid ape humans. When Lucy tried to join in conversations about Harry’s plans, he would look at her in the same way a disdainful parent looks at a small child, and then would tell her that she couldn’t possibly conceive the notion of his greatness. But then he would switch tact’s and tell her of the excitement he felt as he saw his plans coming together. He would sweep her up in his arms in the middle of his reverie and kiss her. He told her that power was the greatest aphrodisiac and when things were going well he oozed sexuality. Then, almost as if there was a flick of a switch, his eyes would become dark pools of anger and his disdain for her would ring out.
Their lovemaking began to change; the earlier tenderness of Harry’s administrations turned into a more aggressive touch. He would push her down onto the bed, bringing his mouth crashing down on to hers, bruising her lips with the ferocity. Whereas before he had entered her gently, giving her time to adjust to his length and width; decidedly larger than the average human male, he would now plunge into her causing her cry out in anguished pain and then would thunder onwards towards his own orgasm without a thought for hers. He would hold her down, raking his teeth and nails across her milky white skin and drawing blood. He would bite her, sinking his teeth into her breast then clamping down on her nipple and causing her to scream. He would take great handfuls of her hair and wrap it tightly around his fist and yank her head back as he took her from behind, all the time calling her a stupid whore or telling her she was worthless and good for nothing except this.
Then he would sob in her arms begging her for forgiveness, telling her the drumming in his mind was getting louder. He would hold her, clinging to her like a child reunited with a long lost parent, telling her she was his salvation. She would hold him with his head in her lap and stroke his hair, calming him, whispering the right words, promising that she would never leave him and that she would be by his side always. And as his sobs subsided, Harry would kiss her tenderly, and then make love to her as he had done on their wedding night, murmuring words of love. Together they would fall asleep, completely satiated in each others arms.
In private he ordered her to call him by his true name, to call him Master and willingly she did. Despite all his cruel treatment of Lucy, she still loved him, worshipped him. She convinced herself that he was stressed, overworked and once he was in power he would be able to delegate duties to others and thus be the Harry Saxon that she adored again. In other moments she would sob in despair and berate herself for falling for him. In truth he terrified her, he had an air about him that suggested he was capable of much darker things and Lucy didn’t want to find out what they were. At her lowest times, Harry would place his fingers on the sides of her forehead and show her once again the dream he had for them both, whilst at the same time he reinforced the compulsion in her mind that bonded her to him.