M-RATED CONTENT WARNING: RAPE, VIOLENCE, LIGHT TORTURE, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT

What do I have? Handcuffs…

Her thoughts were cut off by the jarring sensation of angry hands pulling off her clothes, and the sharp, cold air biting her exposed skin as he stripped away her bra and underwear. Her eyes widened, searching for the man's intent and dreading whatever it is he's planning for the next quarter-cycle. Surprised, she shifted uncomfortably under his stare, suddenly aware of her vulnerability in this form.

Then the memories, the flashing. Not now. The island, those lies, flooding back. Then another floodgate breaks— the Time Lord council and the Division— those waters mixing and blending into each other. The truth was indiscernible. She faltered, her head spinning and pounding.

She looked up at the masked man and saw the reflection of her naked body in his helmet's visor. She shamefully twisted her body away from her contractor's gaze, still dizzy from the flashbacks. Then, from her periphery, she barely saw him take out a weapon from his belt before he struck her upper thigh with it. Her head flung back, eyes squeezed shut. He struck her again.

For a while he beat her and slapped her with an open palm across the face. Her nose bled. He struck her knee and she buckled to the floor, weakened by her recent "heart attack" and, she assumed, the mystery goop injected into her arm before she was sent on this work assignment.

He found her weakness, in such contrast to the arrogant and indestructible force the armored contractor had met so many years ago, to be such a perfect, pure type of justice. Just as the Doctor once strutted across the universe with a sea of dead in his wake, just as he acted with such abandon for other's safety and sanity, so the mystery man found himself in the perfect position to do the same. Give the Doctor a taste of her own medicine, so to say. He looked at the baton in his hand and smiled behind the helmet.

Placing his inhibitions aside, the man in full black armor pulled the Doctor to a standing position and twisted her around by her hips to face the concrete wall. He braced her shoulders with his forearm, pressing her face against the cold, hard slab.

"Please," she begged, "you don't have to do this."

With his other hand he gripped the baton tightly, jammed in between her legs, and lifted it up with a jolt. The Doctor's mouth flew open but made no sound as he rubbed the length and tip of the baton up and down until it was poised upon her narrow, virgin pussy.

She shook and squirmed, instinctually trying to fight his weapon away from her. He let her struggle for a moment before shoving it inside of her. She grabbed the chain holding her in place and gasped. As she pressed herself harder against the wall to gain any distance from it, he urgently filled the small gap and shoved the last few centimeters of his baton into her. She felt warm liquid begin to trickle down her thighs and decided it was best not to move any more than needed.

When she stopped struggling, the man began ramming the baton in and out of her as hard as he could. Her entire body fought but couldn't fight bumping up against the wall with every thrust. Her titties slapped against the concrete and her unwashed hair fell into her face, sticking to her cheeks in the places that were wet with tears.

The contractor, satisfied over her pain and fear, threw the baton forward one last time, leaving it lodged inside of her. She couldn't see him take out his long, alien pale gray-blue member but she recoiled when she felt the tip of it nudge her from behind. With the baton still firmly inside of her, stretching her open with its wide circumference, she braced herself as best as she could. Her ragged breath bounced off the wall and she briefly wondered why her own warm breathing against her face was a small comfort, then a terrible thought came.

I'm on an advertised prisoner work registry. Clever Judoon— they use their able bodied and infamous prisoners to make more money. But…my sentence is for the rest of my life. Lives? How long can I…

When he was ready, her current contractor forced himself inside her arse. She felt blood rushing to her cheeks as she involuntarily let out a small scream. Her skin pulled and tore, straining to adjust to everything being fit into her body. The man kept his helmet and remaining armor on as he worked on her and wondered how she would react to his dick's adapting morphology. It was already swelling to fill and overload her and now the retractable tendrils grew outward from it, anchoring themselves into her internal flesh like a row of small hooked fangs.

The Doctor felt the blood running down her legs intensify before fully understanding why, but was able to figure it out rather quickly once she was overcome with shooting pain from within as his tendrils dug into place. He fucked her, just as she fucked him over in a past life, reveling in the transcendent feeling of revenge. He felt as though he would explode from the joy of seeing her back begin to shake from her inaudible sobbing.

The Doctor was swallowed up in disbelief. Every cell in her body felt as though they were destabilizing, vibrating and sending chills all over. After a few minutes of her contractor pounding into her, manipulating the baton as it suited him, her mind (still ever-adaptive) became numb. She thought back to before, hopeless and deteriorating in her maximum security prison cell, cursing herself for the lack of foresight that led her to this situation. Dread, like a poison, bubbled up from her core as she decided that this was her punishment for such stupidity. She should have known better than this, shouldn't have let the years and desperation to break the monotony dull her instincts so far as to lead her here. But she did, and this is the consequence.

He stopped, detached his tendrils from the internal anal walls, and flipped her around to face him. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, seemed not to be looking at anything anymore. He reached out and tightly gripped her face, his thumb threatening to crack her eyesocket, and pushed her down into a kneel.

"Open your mouth, Doctor," he demanded. Face-to-face with him, she saw the tendrils emerging from his penis squirm excitedly and made note of the pattern of moles down his shaft. She defiantly flicked her eyes to his face. He wasted no time pulling out the small remote the Judoon gave to him at the exchange and turning up a dial before triggering the control.

She arched her back in agony and her previous question was answered— the Judoon must have injected microscopic electric closed circuit Amoeba(™) to be remotely activated by any contractor as a way to keep the prisoners on assignment in line. Every muscle squeezed beyond what she knew possible, crushing and strangling her from within. The intensity blinded her to time and space, making it impossible to determine how long it had lasted.

"I told you to open your mouth."

She reluctantly obeyed despite everything in her screaming to fight. The contractor took a fistful of her hair and slammed her face against him, burying every centimeter into her mouth. She felt the tendrils lodge themselves into her gums, in the flesh inside her cheeks, down her throat as he pleasured himself. "Look at me, Doctor."

She hesitated, taking time to build up the courage to open her eyes. Too long. She was again jolted into submission. After the electric pulses stopped, she looked up to the reflective visor and flinched at her own image looking back at her. The penis in her mouth morphed to fill the empty spaces left in her mouth as his species is known to do, puffing her cheeks to capacity and leaving too little space for her jaw to find relief from the pressure. As he threw himself into her harder and harder, she could hear the bones in her jaw crunching and choked on the blood that sloshed around her mouth. The blood dripped out the corners of her mouth, sloppily falling on her breasts and sliding down to her knees. She cried and blinked her eyes closed again, accepting the risk of electrocution.

She hadn't kept track of time, unwilling to accept this as her reality. Before long she lost consciousness, allowing the chains to suspend her arms above her and support the weight of her limp body.