(NOTE: I've had some technical difficulties uploading this. It worked in the live preview, but apparently didn't actually upload last night. I'm sorry that I did not notice this until just now. I hope I've fixed it! sorry for the delay it caused! - And thus begins finals week here at the University...)
A/N: This is my moment in which to say "I warned you". I warned you that this chapter was among the most graphic, and I warned you that although this is NOT slash the Master is quite comfortable in making the Doctor VERY uncomfortable. Sorry if this makes any of YOU uncomfortable... ok, maybe I'm not. I kinda got some of this from the "Criminal Minds" season 5 episode 1... if anyone cares.
The Doctor's body crashed, limp and nearly lifeless, to the floor. A drawn out moan escaped his lips as his head thudded against the hard metal grating and darkness strove to claim his vision one more. Warm, sticky blood flowed freely from his freshly lacerated back and dripped down onto the TARDIS' engines below. Even now he could hear the ship calling out to him; she could feel his pain, but in her captive state she could do nothing to help.
The room spun around him in a hot, red blur as he forced his eyes open. The air was thick and warm, and even his unmarred flesh seemed just as damp and sticky with sweat as the skin that had been ripped and torn was wet with blood. If there was any skin left on his back at all, it could not be seen through the flood of crimson that poured from his many wounds. His two hearts beat slowly and erratically in his chest; one of them all but stopped completely as his body fought to keep some last reserve of lifeblood within his veins and not on the floor. His breath came in shallow, shaky grasps, few and far between, and his mind had nearly shut down.
As his tired eyes struggled to stay open, he looked to his left hand where it lay on the ground beside his face. He felt certain that any moment it would begin to glow; the first sign of his regeneration. Something in the back of his mind yelled in indignation. It was not fair. He did not want to go; not this time, not again, and not at the hands of the Master. But his body screamed to be released from life – that he might be healed and strengthened once more. He could take no more abuse. If death was the only solution then let it come quickly.
"You know it won't work." The Master's voice, steady and unbothered, came from above him. His foot descended upon the Doctor's left wrist, pinning it down before him. True to his word, it did not display the faintest sign of any impending regeneration.
"I told you." The Master continued as he threw the bloody lash down, "As a Time Lord, I know exactly how much you can take." He smiled delightedly, looking over the job he had done in destroying the Doctor's back; his latest masterpiece. "I can't have you dying on me. Besides, I like this regeneration of yours." He said dangerously and bent down to inspect it, running his already blood stained hand over the wounds. They dug dangerously deep into the Doctor's flesh, but the Master was smart and skilled with the lash; he had not torn so deep as to endanger the Doctor's life, just enough to make him wish that he had. Given the proper care his Time Lord body heal quickly, no matter how close to death he felt right now. However the Master had no intention of giving him the full care he needed. He would keep him captive from death, but healing was up to him.
The Doctor groaned once more as the Master took hold of his shoulder, painfully pressuring his fresh wounds, and forcibly turned him first onto his side, and then onto his bleeding back. The Doctor grimaced and grit his teeth to keep from crying out as his terribly mutilated flesh was pressed against the hard metal grating of the TARDIS floor. The Master's devilish smile only grew.
Panting for breath, the Doctor's body trembled in shock from blood loss. "Please…" he mumbled incoherently, "…N-No more." He begged. The Master smiled at him as if smiling at a small child who had just asked to stay up five more minutes past bedtime.
"Now, Doctor." He addressed the barely conscious man. As he spoke he knelt down beside his captive and leaned over him, his left hand resting beside the Doctor's head. The Doctor was barely aware of his own motion as his captor moved his arms into place by his sides. The Master next moved to straddle the Doctor; pinning his arms to his sides with his knees, he sat on the Doctor's exposed stomach, adding to the terrible weight that pressed his fresh wounds into the floor and trapping the immobilized man helpless underneath him.
The Doctor let out a noiseless cry of agony at the added pressure, his face contorting into a mask of inescapable pain.
The Master smiled sadistically as he leaned over his captive and placed a gentle hand to his cheek, staining the Doctor's face with his own blood. "Perhaps this has taught you a lesson." He said softly, stroking his thumb against the Doctor's warm, trembling face with pleasure. The Doctor gasped for breath underneath him, no longer able to support the weight holding him down.
The Doctor shifted beneath his captor as best he could, trying to turn his face away and escape the Master's hand, but it was no use. The Master's smile deepened as he felt the Doctor's discomfort. He moved his hand down his captive's neck and trailed his fingers across his exposed chest with a wicked grin. The Doctor's skin crawled at his touch and every fiber of his being screamed for him to escape and get away. "Stop." He managed to choke out at last, squirming uncomfortably under the Master's hand in unwanted physical contact.
"Hmm?" The Master laughed, placing his hand behind his ear in mockery. "What was that?"
"Please, Master…" The Doctor breathed out. "Just… listen." He panted and coughed.
The Master grinned at the Doctor's begging and decided to humor him. He placed his hand behind the Doctor's head and lifted it up slightly, leaning in even closer so that he could hear the desperate request.
"You can stop this…" The Doctor gasped, "All of this." He said, speaking as quickly as he could in order to get his message out before the Master cut him off again and doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable position he was held in. "You don't have to do this." He gasped, "I can… help."
The Master shook his head in amusement with a small laugh. He pulled the Doctor up even closer, causing his spine to arch painfully and his injured abdomen to tighten in strained effort. Gritting his teeth again, he moaned sharply as the last of his air was forced from his lungs. His vision was fading and his body shook and trembled in earnest as the Master lifted him up but forced him to support himself.
"I know." The Time Lord whispered. The Doctor's brow creased in bewilderment and sorrow at his words. "I know I don't have to." The Master smiled as he explained, pulling the Doctor even closer until their faces were inches apart. "I want to."
The Doctor's eyes looked deep into those of his captor, and at last he saw that there was nothing he could ever say or do to change the Master's mind. He had known the truth for some time, but had steadfastly denied it – searching for some good left in his old enemy and one-time friend. But as he saw him now, the Doctor saw that there was nothing good left in his heart; only madness and evil. He could not be reasoned with and would not be deterred. There was only one thing that could save the Master now, and that was to forcibly stop him. The Doctor could only pray that it would be enough.
Above him, the Master gloried in the look of pure and utter hopeless dejection that came upon the Doctor's face. For a moment he did nothing but hold him there, reveling in the Doctor's misery and delighting in his broken, humiliated, helpless form. The Doctor had brought this upon himself. He had chosen the path of powerlessness, and the Master had chosen the path of power. This was each of their reward, it was as simple as that. Soon the Master would rule the galaxies – the Lord of so much more than time – and the once-great Doctor would sit at feet and watch, powerless to stop him. And it was no one but his own fault.
At last, the Master released his captive. The Doctor's head fell painfully back to the floor, slamming the bruise that had already formed there. He could feel blood on the back of his neck, but his body was growing numb. As the Master stood to his feet and stepped to open the TARDIS door the Doctor gasped in breath but did not even have the strength to cough. He lay motionless on the floor sinking quickly into the deeper stages of shock, his eyes fluttering closed. He wished for unconsciousness to take him, but he was granted no such reprieve.
"Bring him." The Master ordered the two guards standing outside the door, who quickly stepped inside and approached the Doctor. He could practically hear their mental apologies as they forced themselves to pry him from the ground, draping his arms around their shoulders and half dragging, half carrying him out of the TARDIS. The Doctor's head lolled forward and he let his feet drag. It hurt to be supported again by his tired, aching, torn arms, but he had neither the strength nor willpower to make himself walk. "Follow me." The Master said next as he picked up the discarded lash, and his guards obeyed with the Doctor in tow.