They paced around, circling, waiting. Their footsteps reverberated through the chamber, thudding into The Doctor's semi-conscious state as he struggled back to sense and sensation.
“Oh! Oh! Back to the land of the living!” Missy's voice was filed with glee as she danced on the spot.
The Doctor opened his eyes just as The Master completed his circle around the chair. He stopped next to Missy and frowned. “He doesn't look very comfortable, does he?”
“Well, that's what happens when you knock someone out,” Missy helpfully pointed out.
“And when someone else ties him to a chair,” The Master replied.
“Shut up, both of you! Untie me, we need to stop the-,” struggling furiously, The Doctor shouted then fell silent, listening to something seemingly far away. “Oh, you didn't.”
“A time bubble. We did,” The Master nodded.
“It's more fun this way. Well, fun for us,” Missy waved a hand between herself and The Master. “Not so much for you.”
“This is not funny,” The Doctor snarled.
“As I just said,” Missy pointed to herself and nodded, then to The Doctor and shook her head. The Master solemnly imitated her.
Busy trying to tug an arm free from the leather straps, The Doctor muttered to himself, “You two are the worst music hall comedians. Ever. What do you do for an encore?”
“This,” The Master smiled as he held up a very sharp scalpel. The blade caught the light as he turned it slowly, the reflected light playing on The Doctor's face and eyes.
“Somehow, I don't think you're going to give me a shave,” The Doctor slowly moved his head away, as Missy snorted back a giggle and slipped her fingers into his hair, stroking and tightening her grip on his wayward waves.
The blade blurred as The Master swooped downwards and a ripping sound filled the room. Silence, then The Doctor's gasp and a soft tap tap tappity as a button flew off and landed somewhere in the darkness.
The Master lunged forward and sliced at the arms of his jacket, swiftly followed by his shirt and trousers. His breath caught in his throat, The Doctor dared not flinch as the blade missed his skin by millimetres. Missy pulled his head to her and kissed him, fingers still coiled tightly at the nape of his neck. Keeping his eyes open, The Doctor glared over at The Master as he watched, restarting his walk around The Doctor's chair.
An impulse to bite Missy's tongue crossed his mind, but her grip on his hair, and the presence of The Master's scalpel put that thought down, so he waited, enduring the kiss. The Master's hand joined Missy's in the wilderness of his hair, keeping him in place as Missy withdrew. With barely enough time for The Doctor to take a breath, The Master took over the kiss. It was deep and forceful, and The Master's mad-eyed stare bore into The Doctor's stoic glare.
Meanwhile, Missy stared to creep one hand down along The Doctor's chest, feeling under the sliced clothing, long nails pressing against his flesh. She paused with a twitching smile and a gleam in her eyes.
The sounds of rending cloth and Missy's excited squeal distracted The Doctor from The Master's invading tongue. He was aware of cool air on his now naked skin, the warmth of the straps tight around his wrists, ankles, and waist. He felt the heat of Missy's hand as she pressed against his chest and stomach, he tasted The Master as he practically chewed his mouth off. He felt heat rising inside him and a twitching.
“Did we leave his sonic screwdriver on him? Naughty,” Missy's laughter was like poisoned wine.
The Doctor tried to say something, to snarl, to shout, but The Master was still vacuum sealed to his face, one hand in a vice-like grip on his hair.
A strangely familiar sound buzzed in the air, then on his thigh. The Doctor tried to suppress a moan, to distract himself from what was going on, what was about to go up.
A deep moan escaped his lips, his hips jerking up, his body writhing against the utterly enthralling sensation Missy was teasing out from his cock.
Eyes closed, The Doctor found he could suddenly breathe as The Master released him from that eternal kiss. He ran his tongue along his lips and inhaled deeply, willing his body to stop responding to the sonic throbbing against his cock.
He finally found his voice. “No! Stop this. I don't want this. You have no right!”
Missy tapped her chin with her free hand. “You say you don't want it, yet something tells me otherwise. I just can't put my finger on it. Oh, yes I can!” With that, she grabbed The Doctor's erect cock, forcing another moan from The Doctor.
The Master rolled his eyes, stepping away for a moment. “Oh, stop moaning. No, keep going.”
“Make up your mind, dear man,” Missy gently scolded. “To moan or not to moan?”
“That is the question!” The Master replied as he shoved his cock into The Doctor's mouth, grabbing his hair tightly again.
“Fair enough,” Missy shrugged as she pressed the sonic screwdriver against The Doctor's testicles.
A wordless yell of a moan rumbled in The Doctor's throat, eliciting a beatific sigh from The Master as he pushed himself deeper in, then slid out a little, setting up a steady pace. Something in the back of The Doctor's mind told him to fight, to bite and scream, but instead he found himself working his tongue around The Master's shaft, sucking a little, the sonic's buzzing filling his head and entire universe with animalistic pleasure as Missy moved it under, along, and around his cock.
Time had no meaning. Space had no meaning. He had no meaning.
Another warmth filled his mouth and he almost choked, trying to breath, to not swallow, to fight against it.
Time has meaning. Space has meaning. He has meaning. The Doctor repeated it to himself in his mind, struggling helplessly against his captors, against his bonds.
The rushing of blood and space-time receded from The Doctor's head and he returned to reality.
“Well, you've had your messy fun, now it's my turn,” Missy was saying, clothes rustling from somewhere behind The Doctor.
The Master grinned maniacally as he staggered back to settle on a couch, a little to the side of The Doctor's chair. “That's a ridiculous amount of clothes to wear, Missy. Like a hand?”
“Not unless you wash it first, these clothes are dry clean only. Now, where was I?” Missy peered over The Doctor's shoulder.
“You were about to free me and plead for your lives, I believe,” The Doctor rasped, drawing a laugh from The Master as he licked his sticky hand clean.
“No, I remember now,” Missy answered, as The Doctor found himself tipped back, the chair slamming to the floor with a loud metallic crash.
Raising his head to safety just in time, The Doctor let the jarring pain course through his body with a hiss. “Now, you're going to release me, Missy. You're going to apologise and help me save humanity.”
“Sorry, no,” Missy said as she straddled his face. “You're going to, I believe the phrase is, take away.”
“Eat out,” The Master corrected.
Missy swivelled her body slightly to face him, mashing her cunt against The Doctor's lips. “Really?”
“Maybe that's what the Americans call it?” The Master shrugged.
“Oh, those,” Missy said, bored already. “Well, Doctor. Don't just lie there. Eat me out. Or is it, eat out me?” She squirmed against him and looked down. “Your eyes look so pretty in this light.”
The Doctor's reply was muffled, but Missy was sure it was unutterably rude in at least seven languages. Still, his lips and tongue were giving her a good workout and she shifted again, grabbing The Doctor by the hair and pushing her clit right against his lips.
The heat and musk of her body rocking against his face sent The Doctor into an angry, aroused silence. He knew his body was responding, betraying him, and a fresh surge of rage jolted him as he felt The Master's hands around his cock. The sonic clicked to life against his still aroused shaft and the wetness of The Master's tongue drew a growl of anger.
The Doctor's tongue darted from his parted lips and he tasted the folds of Missy's clit, working its way around the hood as she rolled her hips over him. She caught his eye and stared in triumph, her red lipstick starting to smear over her teeth as she bit her lip. The Doctor carefully moved his head down and ran his teeth along her labia, sending her to a delirious place.
He felt The Master take his cock wholly into his mouth, his teeth raking against the shaft, biting a little too hard. Something exploded inside The Doctor's head and he bit down, Missy's shriek was half pain, half ecstasy. Her response was all fury as she slammed her fist into the side of his head.
Rising up behind Missy, The Master whispered to her. “Do it again. Harder.”
Groggy with the pain, The Doctor nodded. “Yes. Do as he says. You have no mind of your own, Missy. He's the real brains behind this, isn't he? Let's show him who's boss.”
As The Master pulled an unimpressed face behind her, Missy rose up on her haunches. “Now look. He is me, and I am him. So his mind is my mind. So never mind and get back to work.”
“My tongue's not that long,” The Doctor retorted.
“Fine,” Missy settled back down. “Be careful.”
“You're the boss,” The Doctor reminded her.
“We're the boss,” warned The Master.
“Someone's jealous,” The Doctor whispered to Missy's magic space hole as she shuddered in delight. She bent her body down slightly as The Doctor slowly licked around her clit again. He could feel The Master squeeze his cock tighter and tighter. Swallowing the pain, he whispered, barely audible, ”Why don't we see how he likes it? Tie him up, overwhelm him, drive him over the edge again and again?”
Missy curled her fingers around a long strand of his hair. “We have forever and a day. There's plenty of time for that. Plenty of time for you to whisper sweet treachery in his ear, too.”
The Doctor had a sense of the infinite as he contemplated her words. They could be here forever, finding new ways to torment him, plundering his body for eternal pleasure. He could smash against a wall for a millennium, he could have a wall smashed against him, it was all the same.
He could endure them. He could endure this.