Author's notes:
This story is dedicated to slave-in-mind from this archive, who egged me on to write a sequel to "Cells". Her insightful advice made this a better story.
My heartfelt thanks once more to Aris Merquoni from whofic for giving me ideas about Three/The Brig in the first place.
My apologies to H.P. Lovecraft for borrowing the Great Old Ones. The temptation was too strong for me.
Still not sure whether this works. If they weren't way OOC in "Cells", they are probably here.
This is the first bit of explicit sex I've ever written in English, so at times it is probably as terrible a collection of clichéd phrases as you will ever get.
Nevertheless I'm fond enough of this disaster area of a text to post it here.
Well, if there is still anybody around willing to read on – don't say you haven't been warned! *runs off and hides in the Siberian taiga*
Repetition and Reinforcement
Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart looked across the debris scattered, goo covered battlefield. The wounded had already been taken away; as always victory came at a price. At least this time there were no losses amongst the men of UNIT. The tentacled monsters which had attacked apparently out of nowhere had – for once – not been bullet-proof.
"I suppose we have to be grateful for small mercies," he sighed and tried unsuccessfully to wriggle the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders.
With another sigh he turned to Sergeant Benton, who hovered nearby, "Very well, that only leaves the paperwork to be sorted out… Sergeant, see to it that I won't be disturbed for a couple of hours."
His CO looked so worn out that Benton responded with a sympathetic little smile – which immediately earned him a stern look.
The Sergeant quickly let his smile drop and said smartly, "Yes, sir! Anything else, sir?"
"No… or rather yes. Go, find the Doctor and tell him to report to my office at 1800 sharp. And if the wretched alien is less than cooperative, remind him that this is an order not a social call. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" Benton replied stiffly and wondered what the heck was going on between his CO and UNIT's scientific advisor.
DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW
The Doctor had an absolutely miserable afternoon clearing up what remained of his laboratory. The place had been at the very center of the dimensional breach, and the Tentacled Spawn of the Great Old Ones had not only completely smashed it to bits but also left behind vast amounts of green goo, which turned out to become as hard as concrete once it dried. It also gave him a terrible rash when he incautiously touched it with bare hands.
"Note to myself for possible later exploration into the Realm of Time out of Mind – GOOG (Great Old One Goo) is either slightly poisonous to Gallifreyans or I'm allergic to the stuff," he mumbled to himself, desperate to cling to every bit of knowledge gained in the course of the disastrous events. After all a scientist should always strive after new discoveries even when he'd just made a complete dog's breakfast of things.
However, he thought it somewhat unfair that everyone at UNIT now treated him like a leper. This was not only a military facility but also a scientific one, for goodness' sake, and at times scientific progress came at a price! It wasn't as if the slight error on his part got anyone killed. Compared with some other dangers UNIT had had to face during the past couple of months, the Tentacled Spawn had done relatively little damage. He even managed to close the dimensional breach again before anything truly dangerous could come through. All things considered, his colleagues behaved rather silly in blaming him.
At the sound of the door he looked up from where he was scrubbing GOOG off the laboratory floor.
Doctor Liz Shaw entered and the reproachful look on her face could not convincingly hide the fact that she was gloating. Seeing him in a boiler suit and rubber gloves made her break into a grin.
Clearly enjoying herself, she said, "I hate to say this, but – told you so!" She pushed herself up to sit on one of the benches and look down on him.
"Note to myself – conduct experiments to find out, why GOOG isn't poisonous to humans as well. If possible on a live subject; not necessarily a volunteer," the Doctor thought grimly.
Liz' grin grew wider. "Actually I didn't hate to say it. In fact I rather…"
The Doctor interrupted her gruffly, "Yes, yes, you were right, I was wrong. I should have listened to what you had to say about my calculations being faulty and…" He got stiffly to his feet. It just wouldn't do to launch into an indignant rant while he was on his knees with a scrubbing brush in his hand.
Then the Doctor saw the marks around her neck and remembered some of today's nastier events. His face fell and he added crestfallenly, "…and I can't apologize enough for nearly getting you strangled and eaten by one of the Tentacled Spawn."
Passing over the Time Lord's apology, Liz continued to nag him, "I distinctly remember how I showed you the flawed passages in your calculations for the time rift you were trying to create. Even a stupid ape like me with nothing but a doctorate in physics could see that you were about to rip apart the fabric of space and time. But, no, Mister 'I'm eight hundred years old and know what I'm doing' had to carry on regardless!"
Faced with Liz' rightful anger, the Doctor noticed a distinct feeling of guilt creep into his mind – blast it! Therefore, he was very much relieved when, after a perfunctory knock at the door, Sergeant Benton came in.
Standing stiffly to attention Benton said, "Doctor, the Brigadier wants you to report to his office at six o'clock sharp."
At this display of militarism the Doctor's temper flared up again and he retorted, "Tell him, I'm busy. I've got no time to report anywhere."
Benton stuck to his usual strategy of staying at attention, which allowed him to stare straight ahead and avoid eye contact, when he said, keeping his voice as flat as possible, "The Brigadier also told me to remind you that this is an order not a social call. Sir."
This of course did not help at all… "Go away, and tell that pompous idiot of a commanding oaf that he can shove his orders up his…" the Doctor caught sight of Liz' expectant look, coughed and finished rather lamely, "…wooly pully."
Benton finally broke his stance and looked the Doctor in the eye, "With all due respect, Doctor, I shall do no such thing. And you really shouldn't annoy the Brig any further by disobeying yet another order. He's on a short enough fuse as it is, if you catch my drift."
The Doctor took a deep breath to calm down, reminding himself that none of this was Benton's fault. "Yes, alright, message received and horribly understood. Thank you, Sergeant."
With a nod at the Doctor and a smile at Liz, Benton left.
Liz slid down from her perch snickering. "Well, I guess, that means I can stop tormenting you and leave the job to the Brig. He'll probably tongue-lash you within an inch of your life. Boy, am I glad not to be in your shoes this evening!"
By no stretch of the imagination could the Doctor call her smile on this last statement sympathetic. But at least Liz seemed to be somewhat mollified by the idea that Lethbridge-Stewart was about to verbally knock the stuffing out of him. She even agreed to help with the cleaning.
While they worked in amiable silence, the Doctor thanked every deity who might care to listen for Liz' ignorance on his apprehensions that the Brigadier's reaction would be far more than just a verbal one.
DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW-DW
When the Doctor stepped into the office, the Brigadier swivelled his chair around to face him. "Well, Doctor, what do you have to say for yourself?" he asked with just a hint of thunderstorm in his voice.
"Not very much, I'm afraid. At least nothing you would like to hear," the Doctor replied defiantly.
"Mind that tone! You're in enough trouble already," snapped Lethbridge-Stewart.
The Doctor had a distinct feeling that this was not going well and that probably his best option would have been to desert from UNIT as soon as Benton got to the 'not a social call' bit.
Wearily the Brigadier said, "Some time ago I explained to you the importance of obeying orders – particularly in life threatening situations. I really had hoped I would not have to repeat myself on this subject. But obviously I haven't made myself clear enough. Let's hope I'll be more successful this time."
The Doctor thought it best to remain silent. Benton had been right – it wouldn't be a smart move to tell his CO where he should stick his orders.
"Your silence can be taken for a 'Yes, sir', I suppose?" Not waiting for an answer he continued, "Very well, let me recall the chain of events that brought us to this point. Roughly three months ago you announced your plan to investigate the possibility of creating something you called a time rift under controllable lab conditions. You assured me and Doctor Shaw that this project would be absolutely safe."
Lethbridge-Stewart paused obviously waiting for some kind of response from his scientific advisor.
The Doctor nodded.
"And another implied 'Yes, sir', I'm sure. To my surprise a very worried Doctor Shaw turned up in my office the day before yesterday. She informed me that you were about to start out on the practical part of your research despite her concerns about some flaws in your calculations."
The day Liz had reported him to the Brigadier! The Doctor still couldn't quite believe this had happened and found it hard to let go of his feelings of betrayal – even though Liz had been right and had resorted to this means only after a long and fruitless discussion about incalculable risks, patience and the need for more theoretical research.
"After listening to Doctor Shaw's explanation on how your experiment on that rift thing might tear apart the fabric of reality itself, I gave you the explicit order to discontinue the practical part of the project and revise your calculations, didn't I?"
"Yes, sir", the Doctor admitted grudgingly.
"Then, why?"
"Why what, sir?"
"Why did you think it necessary to go on and put everyone on this planet in danger? You've told me more than once about the importance of protecting the timeline and how vital it is not to tamper with dimensional barriers and so forth. What was different this time?" The Brigadier seemed honestly puzzled. "I surely don't approve of it, but I can understand your unwillingness to take orders from me where your research and experiments are concerned; but this time it was your colleague Liz Shaw who warned you about the possible dangers. Yet you just brushed her criticism aside. Why? What was so important to risk irreparable damage to, well, basically everything?"
In his hearts of hearts' the Doctor knew Lethbridge-Stewart was right. His actions had been rash and irresponsible, and he probably deserved everything he was about to get. He should have listened to Liz and postponed the experimental phase. But then there were the wonderful possibilities of the time rift project – the chance to discover an alternative form of time travel. A form of time travel independent of the TARDIS, independent of the knowledge the Time Lords had taken from him.
There was absolutely no way he could tell the seething Brigadier the true reason for his disobedience and the resulting invasion of the Tentacled Spawn– the simple fact that he was home sick for travelling through time and space and would have risked anything to get on the road again. There were things a man had to deal with all by himself.
He answered brusquely, "It was a calculated risk. One I was willing to take…"
"One you were willing to let all of us take!" the Brigadier bellowed.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." What else could he say?
The Doctor sounded so dejected that Alistair softened enough to say, "Well, to look on the bright side of it, there were no casualties, the creatures were fairly easy to destroy and you managed to close the rift before anything really bad got through."
Changing his tone back to severe Lethbridge-Stewart added with a withering glare at the Doctor, "Nevertheless, how I shall explain to Geneva that the latest supernatural threat to the human race was brought about by our own scientific advisor is quite beyond me. But I will make sure I can report that appropriate disciplinary actions have been taken against the man." On these words he got up, walked around his desk and stood in front of the Doctor rather too close for the Gallifreyan's idea of personal space.
"Do I take it that you intend to…?" The Doctor did not dare to finish the sentence.
"Indeed I do." Neither regret nor triumph was detectable in the Brigadier's voice when he ordered, "Get into position. You know the drill."
Without further resistance the Doctor uttered a resigned grunt, took off his jacket, put it carefully aside and bent obediently over the desk. He heard the Brigadier rummage through a drawer and then take a few practice strokes at the empty air. Or perhaps those weren't practice strokes at all, but an attempt to let the mere sound of the cane strike terror into the Doctor's hearts. An all too successful attempt he had to admit.
The first caning he had received at the hands of his CO a few months ago had hurt a lot, much to his surprise, and he wasn't too keen on a repetition of this experience. But he couldn't think of anything that would get him out of this mess; at least nothing short of simply running away in a completely undignified manner. "Well, let's look on the bright side – it will be over quickly, Lethbridge-Stewart will feel reassured in his authority, consequently I won't have to live with him grudging and grumbling and, finally, after a few hours of healing coma I should be as good as new." Despite this completely logical line of thought, he really would have preferred a less painful and humiliating solution.
The Brigadier took up position behind his scientific advisor and tapped his target with the cane to check his aim. Alistair had to admit, at least to himself, that he was rather happy to do what he was about to do. Some dark part of him, a part he had thought successfully subdued and locked away in the depths of his soul, had actually enjoyed administering that first caning to the Doctor, and the memory of the incident had featured in his wet dreams ever since.
Lethbridge-Stewart opened his mouth to speak the time honoured lines of 'stay in position and count out the strokes' but a sudden idea made him pause. He wondered if he might take this a bit further. Well, you never knew until you tried… He cleared his throat, "Hrrrm, as this is a repeat offence, I think we should increase the severity of the punishment."
"Should we?" the Doctor asked, puzzled by this abuse of an innocent pronoun. As if the Brigadier would give him any say in the matter! On second thoughts, he probably shouldn't worry about abused pronouns but about his own, soon to be abused hide.
"Yes, we should," the Brigadier replied, his eternal half-smile, which annoyed the Doctor to no end at times like this, firmly locked into place. "Therefore, you will now kindly lower your trousers and underwear, please."
The Doctor spun round to face his tormentor. "I will do no such thing!" he exclaimed.
"Oh yes, you will," said the Brigadier matter-of-factly. "I trust, you remember the alternative?"
"You're still threatening to throw me out of UNIT?"
"Quite so – down they come or out you go. Your choice."
There was something odd about Lethbridge-Stewart, the Doctor thought. The man seemed almost giddy with the prospect of caning him and there was a strange glint in his eyes, almost like an expression of… It couldn't be, could it? The Doctor lowered his gaze. Yes, definitely, the Brigadier was… excited. Rather a lot actually, judging by the bulge in his uniform trousers.
"Well, now this is getting interesting," the Doctor thought. "Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, the very model of discipline and military decorum, has a sadistic streak to his character and apparently lusts after my trim Gallifreyan arse. I just wish I had known that earlier…"
During his acquaintance with Lethbridge-Stewart, which even dated back to the time of his previous self, the Doctor more than once had eyed him with less than chaste ideas on his mind, but he had always dismissed his daydreams on the assumption that the Brigadier was as straight as any straight object one could care to imagine. Marvelling at the wonderful complexity of the universe and feeling the blood rush to his own loins, the Doctor decided to play along, even though he sincerely doubted the Brigadier would make good on his threat if he didn't. "Very well, let's see, how far he will go."
Putting on his best expression of contrite defeat, he let his shoulders slump a little and said in a carefully subdued voice, "Alright, you've won. I'll submit to this punishment." After half a heartbeat's pause he added rebelliously, "Although I think it is utterly barbaric." He turned his back on the Brigadier, unfastened his trousers and let them fall to his ankles. Then he peeled down his boxers deliberately slowly but still without being too obviously provocative. Finally he resumed his position over the desk.
Despite his own growing arousal, the Doctor was a bit worried about how painful this caning would be. The last one had been excruciating – although he would never admit it to the Brigadier – and that had been over his clothes! How much worse would the cane feel on his bare skin? Yet, the mental image of Lethbridge-Stewart drooling at the sight of his half naked form was too new, too strange and far too promising to let mere anxiety stand in the way of exploration.
The Brigadier flipped up the Doctor's shirt tail with the tip of the cane. He surveyed his target area and was favourably impressed. Smooth, even skin over firm, well defined muscles. "Not bad for someone over 800", he thought, suppressed a giggle, cleared his throat and announced gravely, "You know the drill, Doctor; stay in position until further orders and audibly count out the strokes. Failure to do so will lead to more punishment."
The Doctor craned his neck to look back at Lethbridge-Stewart. "How many will I get?" He sounded worried. At the Brigadier's severe glare he added hastily, "Sir?"
His CO smiled grimly and said, "I still have no idea whether the dozen I gave you last time was a ridiculously lenient or an excessively harsh punishment for your Gallifreyan metabolism; therefore, I have decided on a new, more flexible approach. Instead of meting out a predetermined number of strokes I will simply lay them on until either your reaction or the state of your rear shows me that you have been sufficiently punished."
"That's monstrous!" cried the Doctor. "Besides, it makes the threat of extra strokes for not counting or leaving position futile."
"Oh, don't you worry about that," Alistair replied cheerily. "Any extras that might become necessary can easily be delivered to other, more sensitive regions. After all, there is more to a man than his buttocks."
To his horrified amazement the Doctor felt the tip of the cane tease the soft back and insides of his thighs, prod his scrotum and finally wander up the crevice between his nether cheeks and scrape carelessly over his most private orifice. The Brigadier clearly intended to take this very far indeed.
"Oh, and one more thing: feel free to yelp and shout and even cry, but I won't tolerate swearing in any tongue – be it terrestrial or otherwise. So mind your language or pay the price."
A strange sound halfway between a gasp and a yip escaped the Doctor's lips as another sharp poke to his private parts caught him by surprise. Soon afterwards the awful swish of the cane announced the beginning of the punishment.
The Doctor took the first few strokes in motionless silence, counting them calmly. Of course he felt the already familiar build-up of pain and, yes, the lack of protection made a difference, but this caning on the bare did hurt far less than he had feared. "Lethbridge-Stewart must be putting less force behind the strokes," he deduced. "Apparently he doesn't want to actually cut me. I should be grateful for small mercies. Blood would be such a turn off."
Behind him the Brigadier harrumphed loudly.
What? Oh… "Five, sir," the Doctor hastened to say.
"Too late," announced the Brigadier. "That's an extra stroke to be delivered at the end of this punishment."
The Doctor rolled his eyes and stifled a groan. This was not going well.
Lethbridge-Stewart slowly and methodically laid on stroke after stroke, pausing about half a minute after each one to give the pain time to reach its peak before the next cut fell – and also to admire his handiwork. The sight of the bright red wheals developing on the smooth white buttocks made his trousers grow almost painfully tight.
Still some ever observant part of his military mind noted silently, "He bruises like any other man, Gallifreyan or not. Ten to one, he feels the same pain as well; and yet he kept completely silent throughout that last caning, although I really put my back into it. Impressive! Don't think I could have taken a beating like that as stoically."
On the tenth cut the Brigadier didn't get the angle right and it fell across some of the previous stripes, renewing and increasing the pain. This proved to be too much even for the Doctor's endurance; he jumped up and snarled, "Yoaba mamoshoo tvooyoo!" At least that was what it sounded like to the Brigadier.
"Doctor! I don't take kindly to my mother being insulted," he said sternly.
"Since when do you speak Centaurian?" inquired the Doctor in a strangled voice while he rode out the pain.
"Oh, I don't, but the meaning was pretty obvious, wasn't it? And now I suggest you get back into position without further ado. You just managed to mess up the count, leave position and swear all in one go – I trust you don't want to make matters any worse for yourself."
Grudgingly the Doctor bent over again, biting down on some other expletives which considered Lethbridge-Stewart's intelligence, ancestry and sexual preferences and which probably would have cost him far more than just a few extra strokes.
The caning continued and the pain soon became well-nigh unbearable. The Doctor realized that simply giving in and crying out would be the reasonable thing to do. It was so easy – just give in and provide the Brigadier with a reaction sufficient to make him end the thrashing. But when had he ever opted for 'easy'? So he gritted his teeth and struggled on, even though he knew it to be a losing battle.
The fifteenth cut finally wrung a half-stifled cry from the Doctor, "Arrrrgh! Fifteen, sir." The count came out in barely more than a hoarse whisper, and the Doctor was visibly shaking with pain.
Lethbridge-Stewart realized that this was in all likelihood the maximum of vocal and physical reaction he ever would get out of the man without actually cutting him to ribbons; and if he was any judge of welts, he was dangerously close to drawing blood.
Just when the Brigadier was about to declare the punishment finished, the Doctor cleared his throat and asked in a close resemblance to his usual slightly mocking tone, "Would it be a sufficient reaction if I told you that I am in quite some pain and feel thoroughly punished? Or will it be absolutely necessary for you to reduce me to a wailing mess? I can assure you, we aren't too far away from that."
Somewhat relieved that it was the Doctor who gave in first, Lethbridge-Stewart answered, "Well, Doctor, combined with the state of your rear this convinces me that you have been soundly punished for your blatant disobedience."
The Doctor was wise enough to stay in position but relaxed visibly, taut muscles in back and arms going limp.
"However," the Brigadier continued, "that still leaves the matter of extras earned to be dealt with…"
It took all of the Doctor's self-restraint not to beg for mercy.
"This is for messing up the count. Twice."
The Doctor yelped as much with surprise as with pain when the cane bit viciously into the soft skin of his thighs. He had expected something of the sort – but he surely hadn't expected it to be this painful.
The second cut was no better, even though he now knew what to expect, but at least he managed to take it in silence. Despite the urgent desire to jump up and strangle the Brigadier, the Doctor stayed down and waited for the next order.
"Now for your atrocious language. Get up and turn around to face me, please."
Still struggling with the pain across his thighs, the Doctor did as he was told, covering his genitalia with his hands. At this point he really didn't want Lethbridge-Stewart to know that he actually was aroused despite the whole ordeal.
His hopes that the Brigadier did not intend to do what the Doctor feared he was about to do were crushed by the sharp order, "Hands behind your back!"
Lethbridge-Stewart looked closely at the Doctor's half-hard. "Amazing! He could take all that pain and still be aroused," he mused silently. "Seems to me my alien colleague is getting something out of this all the same." Aloud he said, "This should do nicely."
The Doctor watched in abject horror how his superior grabbed his member in one hand and took off his leather belt with the other.
Whilst forcing his victim back to a full erection with a couple of swift strokes of his left hand, Alistair wound the belt around his right until only a short end of about six inches hung out of his fist.
Despite his predicament the Doctor marvelled at the deft movements. "You're ambidextrous. Well, you never cease to amaze me, Brigadier!"
"Concentration, Doctor!" Lethbridge-Stewart admonished and unkindly raked a fingernail along the Doctor's cock, making the man wince. "I assume, you have a fair idea of what's about to happen, so please be so kind as to support yourself against the desk."
The Doctor placed his hands behind his back and clung to the edge of the desk for dear life.
Alistair roughly pulled back his victim's foreskin to fully expose the delicate vulnerable head and touched his target gently with the belt. Then he raised his arm, aiming carefully. When he brought down the belt, Alistair felt a surge of power and arousal. To have the Doctor under his control like this – submissive, compliant, writhing with anxiety and pain – was too good to be true.
The belt hit its target with a moist splat. A supernova of pain exploded behind the Doctor's firmly shut lids and he heard a shrill cry far off in some distant corner of the galaxy. Strangely enough it seemed to be in his own voice.
When he could think clearly again, the Doctor found himself doubled over, looking at his kneecaps. He slowly straightened up and caught his tormentor's eye.
"One more to go," the Brigadier announced.
"One more?" the Doctor protested, "But I cursed only once! This isn't fair!"
"As I said, I don't take kindly to my mother being insulted," Lethbridge-Stewart retorted and took hold of the Doctor's still half-hard again.
The Doctor groaned when he was once more teased back to a full erection by the Brigadier's firm hand. The small part of him that was still able to think straight amidst all the pain and arousal warned, "This is getting dangerous. That primate might actually cause you lasting damage. If you were in your right mind, you would put him out with a bit of Venusian aikido and run for it. This is going far too far."
Unfortunately for his tortured body the restlessly inquisitive part of his mind insisted that this was an all too wonderful opportunity to explore some of the stranger aspects of human behaviour. Not to mention his balls telling him that there probably was sex on the horizon and that the Brigadier looked absolutely gorgeous when he was all severe and authoritarian, well, at least if you didn't mind the silly moustache. The voice of reason groaned in exasperation at this non-sequitur.
The second blow of the belt snapped the Doctor out of his inner dialogue. He cried out again but managed to stay upright; the Brigadier had clearly gone a little easier on him this time.
He peered at his CO from under his brows. "I guess, that only leaves the matter of my leaving position on the count of ten," he suggested warily. "Is there any chance of imploring you to waive that one, sir? I really don't think I can take much more."
Alistair did his best to hide his surprise at what amounted to an admittance of total defeat. His compassion and sense of fairness urged him to relent and end the punishment now, but he had his plans. So he shook his head and said, "Not a chance. I have the distinct feeling that any leniency on my part would just mean to send the entirely wrong signals. I won't have my orders disobeyed. Anyone who does will pay the price. You will learn that you are no exception to that rule, and I don't care how often I have to repeat this," he dropped his belt, picked up the cane again and menacingly swished it through the air, "to get that message through to you."
The Doctor gulped and dropped in a snappy "Yes, sir!" just in case.
"Alright. Step out of you left trouser leg, bend over again and spread your legs. Farther!" He tapped the Doctor's left calf with the cane. "Now reach back, take hold of your buttocks and pull them apart as far as possible."
The Doctor hesitated. He knew perfectly well where this was leading and he didn't like the prospect one tiny, tiny bit.
Promptly he felt his scrotum being poked once more and heard the Brigadier clear his throat, "Well? I'm waiting…"
Reluctantly the Doctor obeyed. He gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the worst. Every muscle in his body went stiff at the swoosh of the cane.
But the expected pain never came. Instead the dreaded weapon was flicked relatively harmlessly against his anus.
"Punishment served," announced the Brigadier.
Too puzzled to be relieved, the Doctor waited for the order to get up and dress himself, but instead he heard the Brigadier rasp out hoarse with lust, "Do you know just how hot you look like this? Bent over, open, ready to be taken…"
His hands were pushed away to be replaced by the Brigadier's. The Doctor writhed and whimpered, while Lethbridge-Stewart thoroughly and none too gently explored the wheals left by the cane. He leant over his victim and whispered in his ear, "You know, Doctor, there is something special about a freshly striped arse… brightly red, radiating heat and oh so sensitive to the touch…" A fairly light smack to his badly welted right buttock made the Doctor jump and cry out.
Before he had fully coped with this last assault, a slick lubed finger touched his hole and started to circle it slowly. "The kinky bastard!" thought the Time Lord. "Imagine UNIT's CO to keep a stash of lube in his office! I wonder who else has been over this desk…" A series of pictures flashed through his mind. Then the distinct smell of sandalwood and menthol registered and made him revise his fantasies, "Shaving oil; of course, just like the Brigadier to show initiative and improvise. The stuff will sting a bit, though, essential oils on mucous membranes – always tricky. Wonder if he is aware of that? Yet another kink? No, he probably just doesn't do this on a regular basis." The Doctor quickly discarded the mental image of Lethbridge-Stewart shagging Sergeant Benton over this very desk.
The finger was now applied with more pressure but still didn't enter him. The Doctor looked back over his shoulder and, in answer to the Brigadier's inquisitively raised eyebrow, blinked his consent.
Without further delay the slick digit invaded him in one swift movement. The Doctor groaned when the second joint forced its way through the tight ring of muscle. The finger moved inside him spreading the lube and opening him up. He tried to relax around it and deal with the mildly burning sensation of the shaving oil on his inner walls. All too soon a second digit was added. The Doctor whimpered. Couldn't that man go a bit slower? After all, this body was still very new and not used to being used like this. He ground his teeth and pushed himself back against Alistair's hand despite the pain. Finally a fingertip found his prostate and started to caress it in small circling motions. Discomfort turned into mind numbing pleasure. The Doctor relaxed, lying over the desk in boneless bliss.
The fingers withdrew, eliciting a disappointed moan from the Doctor. He heard a tiny squelching noise when Lethbridge-Stewart lubed himself. A surprised hiss followed.
Apparently the Brigadier had not been aware of the zingy qualities of the improvised lube. Oh, the beauty of the military mind – act first, think about the consequences later! The Doctor chuckled quietly.
The Brigadier frowned at the Time Lord's merriment, grabbed his hips and entered him in one forceful, almost brutal thrust. His effort was rewarded by an outraged grunt.
Alistair growled in triumph. It had been so long since he had last taken another man. Not even sure when. That wretched survival training on the Outer Hebrids? Probably. How many years had passed since then? Six? Eight? Too long. Oh, of course he was a married man and he loved his wife. Honestly. But deep in his heart he had missed the kind of rough, uncuddly, no-nonsense sex a chap could only have with another chap.
Nevertheless Alistair kept still for a few seconds to give the other man a little respite to adjust and relax, marvelling at how cool and tight the Doctor felt around him. The low temperature was somewhat weird but not entirely unpleasant. And as for the tightness… the Doctor was so exquisitely tight that it made Alistair idly wonder, if he might be the first to have the Time Lord like this – at least in this body. That highland boy had been pretty obvious, come to think of it. Well, he'd probably never know; there were some questions a gentleman just couldn't ask. Still, it was a flattering idea.
When he felt the Doctor loosen up and then tighten again around him, Alistair got back into action. He took the Doctor hard and fast, paying no heed to the groans and inarticulate pleas while he relentlessly slammed his body into the bruised, battered buttocks over and over again. Without slowing down he scrabbled for the Doctor's dick with his right hand, found it harder than ever and began to stroke it in tune with his thrusts.
It was a fast and furious forty seconds fuck. Alistair came with another triumphant growl and collapsed on top of the Time Lord pressing him down on the desk.
They broke apart and got to their feet still panting and gasping for air.
When the Doctor had caught his breath, he asked, "Might I inquire, whether this, hm, intrusion was intended to be further punishment or some twisted sort of reward for taking my thrashing like a good boy?"
Alistair grinned, "That, my dear Doctor, lies in the eye of the beholder." Then a worried look crossed his face. "Did it feel like punishment to you?" he asked in a small, somewhat anguished voice.
The Doctor didn't answer at once, but took his time to enjoy the changing emotions which showed on his companion's face. Humans! So easy to disconcert, so quick to go from glee to sorrow, so… alive. You just had to love them. And this one in particular.
"Well, technically you just raped a man serving under your command…" he remarked drily.
The Brigadier's eyes widened in shock. "Rape?" His voice came out almost as a terrified squeak.
After all the pain his CO had inflicted upon him the Doctor felt entitled to a little bit of retribution. Particularly after those mean blows to his cock. Those had hurt! Besides they clearly had served first and foremost to fulfill the Brigadier's perverted fantasies about control and power. The human had made him squirm with pain, so why not make him squirm with remorse in return? Just for a few moments at any rate.
"Rape?" Alistair sounded completely devastated. "But I… but I was convinced that… the look you gave me… I took it for… for a sign of consent… Otherwise I'd never… Heavens, what have I done?!"
The human looked as if he was about to burst into tears, so the Doctor finally relented and stepped closer to put a reassuring hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Sorry, old chap, couldn't resist the temptation – you're lovely when you're out of your depths, you know? And, yes, I did consent – although I didn't expect you to be quite so rough. Mind you, this body is rather new and, erm, inexperienced. But, strangely enough, I seem to like rough now. Never did so before…"
The Brigadier relaxed as the Doctor rambled on about the varying sexual preferences of his former selfs. Then he noticed the state of his desk – and of his paperwork. "Oh no! Now look what you've done – you came all over the latest indent forms for special equipment! It took me hours to get those right. And you came all over them! You filthy… Time Lord! I really ought to flog you for that!"
"It's hardly my fault if you don't clear up your desk properly before sodomizing one of your subordinates over it," the Doctor retorted in mock indignation.
The Brigadier looked at the mess on his desk, then at the Doctor, back at the sticky papers and finally downwards where both their trousers were still bunched up around their ankles. He grinned. "I must be completely mad. Here I am, standing half-naked in my office and arguing with an alien about who is to be held responsible for some forms soiled with spunk… I'm definitely going bonkers. Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart finally cracks under the strain of command…" At this thought his grin grew wider, turned into a snicker and finally into irrepressible mad giggling.
The Doctor stood and watched in silent bewilderment. Silly primate! But the way Lethbridge-Stewart clung to his shoulder for support felt rather good. The Gallifreyan soothingly patted him on the back, "There, there…" Warm, humans were so warm to the touch. Nice smelling species too, once you got used to their particular fragrance. He drew the shaking, giggling Brigadier closer to savour the warmth and the smell.
When he had finally managed to bite back the last hysterical giggle, Alistair straightened up and looked down at the Doctor's renewed erection. "I notice you are ready for another bout," he said casually. After half a second's thought he added, "Given the state of your backside, you would probably prefer to top this time?"
If the Doctor was surprised by this new prospect, he didn't show it but replied amiably, "Yes, I should rather like that, old chap."
Author's notes:
This is fiction, therefore the boys are entitled to all the unsafe sex they want. And I didn't like the part, where the Brig realizes that the only condom, which he has left, is past its use-by date, and consequently has to send a very embarrassed and possibly jealous Benton to the next pharmacy to get some; a delay which greatly annoys the Doctor. See what I mean? Can't be having with any of that, so I cut that bit. But in real life – play safe!
Thanks a lot for reading,
Volodya