Father's Praise
by Windchild (windchild2@hotmail.com)
The characters depicted herein are not my property. No copyright infringement is intended.
NC-17 rating
Summary- The Master captures Nyssa.
****
Nyssa came to, groggily and unpleasantly. She could open her eyes, but only white lay before her. She could not move beyond flexing her muscles and picking up her head. She soon discerned that she was spread-eagled, naked on her stomach atop a bed, virtually paralysed. Her limbs were tied each to the bedposts at the four corners of the bed.
She heard a throat being cleared and looked in that direction, straight ahead. A man stood there. "Father?" she murmured.
His lips twitched. "No," he replied silkily, "but Tremas was certainly blessed to have a daughter as beautiful as you."
She then remembered with a fresh surge of pain that her father was dead, his body stolen by the creature who stood before her. She glared at him; he grinned back and proceeded to strip off with deliberate slowness, directly in front of her. The crimson of embarrassment flooded her cheeks, yet she could not look away. Dimly she experienced the thought that the Master was compelling her in her actions. He stepped close, his large organ dangling near her nose. She could smell it, him, her father's body, his heady arousal, and she flinched.
He laughed. "You're completely untried, girl, aren't you? In that case, I think your pert little bottom is the best place for me to start. And end. That way you'll be sure never to forget me, your first."
Then he was behind her, his weight shifting the bed, and she was helpless to so much as twist her head to look. She felt his fingers dancing along her skin before they gently prised apart her arse cheeks. A few seconds later, a rough, damp object rode up and down the exposed passage. It was his tongue, she abruptly realised, flaming scarlet. And that persistent tongue did not desert her arse quickly. Only when the Master had sampled her unique taste to his heart's content did he withdraw, rearing back from her helpless form.
"Delicious." He smacked his lips. "And now...." His fingers returned to probe at her delicate arse. Then a cold liquid seeped against her. He used one thick forefinger to thoroughly slick the length of her anal fissure, devoting particular care to the puckered rosebud that throbbed in time with Nyssa's racing pulse.
"I want you to love this," he purred, leaning down with his head near hers.
"Never," Nyssa gasped.
He chuckled and nipped her neck. "We'll see about that, my little darling. Now, let the fun begin. Don't worry; this won't hurt. Because what fun would that be for you?"
Despite her best attempts to brace herself for the oncoming anal invasion, the feeling of his engorged organ probing at her exposed rear could not come as anything but a shock. Her treacherously fluttering opening allowed him in and then clenched around him in a parody of a lover's embrace, seeming to welcome and encourage his presence. He grunted as he steadily inserted himself into her body, worming and corkscrewing bit by bit until he was settled firmly to the root upon the fleshy saddle of Nyssa's arse. She quivered and bit her lip, trembling uncontrollably. She felt like a huge living log had been jammed up her bum. Nevertheless, the generous coating of lube, combined with the Master's honed mental technique, had soothed her body so that the pain was minimal indeed.
The Master bent low, pressing his lips close to Nyssa's left ear. "What's the matter, little girl, never had a real man before? The Doctor hasn't had the sense to break in a sweet little virgin like you?"
He chuckled, then began to pump into her, flexing and thrusting. Nyssa quickly began to burn from the inside out. The Master had infiltrated her mind as well as her body, smoothing away the ache and steering it into a soaring pleasure. He reached underneath her, probing until he found and fingered her ultra-sensitive nub, flicking and fiddling, teasing and tempting, leading and loving, playing it like a delicate instrument, clearly determined to lure her into an ecstasy of pleasure like none she had ever known before. Nyssa felt her clit swelling in delighted response, luxuriating in the special attention being lavished upon it for the first time.
She tried to fight away the joy, to focus instead on the possibility of rescue, and the Master chuckled darkly. "Thinking of your dear Doctor? The pretty blond gentleman? It's hard to fault your taste. Would you like to pretend I am he?"
"The Doctor," she gasped valiantly, even as her body bucked in sheer ecstasy, "would never do this to me."
"Then the more fool he. Because, sweet Nyssa, your arse is SUBLIME." And he drilled into her with a renewed vengeance, the headboard of the bed banging into the wall with each thrust.
Nyssa couldn't hold out. She was panting, biting her lip, teeth scoring it a vain effort to keep from crying out. "Oh," she involuntarily gasped. "Ahhhhh!" She moaned in an agony of ecstasy, gasping and writhing frantically. Nothing mattered except that she be loved like this forever, even if it killed her, it felt so, so good and right and familiar, like being back on dear Traken. Then the ultimate pleasure wrapped her in its arms. Never had she experienced such sweet rapture, as she shuddered spastically beneath the weight of the man still anchored deeply inside her.
"That's my baby!" he praised. "Oh, good girl, GOOD GIRL!"
She felt a renewed rush of joy at the sound of her father's enthusiastic approval. She lay, shivering in reaction, aftershocks wracking her slim body. And then he began to ride her in earnest again, and the realisation that this man was not her father hit her like a blow to the face. His steady pistoning stole her breath, sapped her remaining energy so that she flopped like a rag doll beneath the merciless onslaught. Then, with a mighty grunt, he burst inside her, flooding her with burning jet after jet of his hot essence. She found that she could not even cry.
****
The Master flattened himself upon Nyssa's sweaty back, his stolen cock twitching inside her with little dying spasms until finally he was drained and she held all he had to offer. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he nibbled affectionately on his exhausted partner's shoulder. Then he wrenched himself out of her spent body, looking on with satisfaction as streams of sticky cum pooled along Nyssa's cleft and dribbled onto the bed.
He grinned as he regarded her well used figure: the love bites scoring her shoulders; the seeping bodily fluids; the flushed cheeks, crimson lips, and heavy eyelids of a woman who had been eminently fulfilled, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
"I won't ask if you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart," he said generously. "I could feel it in every fibre of your being. So," he continued briskly, "I've rung up the Doctor and he'll be along momentarily. Which means I'd best be on my way. By the way, you were WONDERFUL."
He slapped her trembling arse like she was a mare that had just made a good showing. The mark stood out like a scarlet brand upon her alabaster skin.
Then he was gone. And in the following moment, the Doctor arrived. Too late, again.
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