For Clara Oswald, being the Doctor's companion meant living incredible adventures through space and time; but it could also meant risking her life against eldritch horrors, alien invaders, cruel wannabe dictators or, even worse, being picked up from a beach in Mallorca during her holidays and transported into the corridors of a palace on an alien planet wearing nothing but her favorite bikini.
"Doctor," Clara said, "may I know what made you think that this was the most appropriate attire to bring me here?"
The Doctor looked at Clara as if he were surprised by such an absurd question: "I saw that you were surrounded by hundreds of people dressed in this manner, I thought it was normal clothing and since the climate was similar to that of our destination it seemed to me to be completely appropriate attire."
Clara looked into the Doctor's eyes, wondering for the umpteenth time how such a brilliant man could be at the same time totally disconnected from reality. But she could not deny that, given the scorching heat despite it being the middle of the night, anything other than a bikini would have been extremely uncomfortable.
Clara raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, let's leave it at that, Doctor: where exactly are we?"
"Oh, yes, right! This is the city of Meereen which is located in the Slaver's Bay of Essos, one of the continents of Planetos. It is a truly peculiar planet, just think that here the seasons last for years and their duration is completely random, not even the Time Lords have ever understood why."
They ventured deeper into the heart of the palace, the Doctor's sonic screwdriver buzzing quietly as it scanned the surroundings for any signs of life. "Something's not quite right here," he murmured, his brow furrowing beneath his iconic bow tie. Clara nodded, feeling the same sense of unease. Suddenly, Clara's hand shot out to stop the Doctor, her eyes wide with shock. Before them, a group of courtiers stood in the middle of a hall, their clothing, their postures - everything about them spoke of a time long past, yet here they were, perfectly frozen amid a step.
Clara approached one of the men, touching his skin: “It’s…warm, “Clara said, “look at him Doctor, he’s rigid like a statue but I can feel that is flesh is definitely human. And his robe…it’s silk but…no matter how hard I try to bend it, it’s hard as a rock.”
"The Time Vortex," the Doctor murmured, his eyes darkening. "It's been tampered with. This isn't just a stasis field; it's a piece of time itself that's been torn and held in place. They are more than paralyzed, this entire city is frozen in time."
A sound grew louder, a guttural snarl that seemed to shake the very foundations of the palace. Clara's heart hammered in her chest as she saw movement in the shadows beyond the stilled figures. A group of alien creatures emerged, their skin a mottled gray, with eyes that gleamed like polished stones. They were massive, towering over the Doctor and Clara, their limbs ending in sharp claws that clicked against the floor as they advanced.
"Run!" the Doctor shouted, and Clara didn't need to be told twice. She sprinted back down the corridor, her bare feet slapping against the warm marble as she fled. The Doctor was right beside her, his longer strides easily keeping pace with her panic-stricken sprint. The creatures followed, their snarls echoing through the deserted halls.
As they rounded a corner, Clara spotted an open door and darted inside, slamming it shut behind her. She found herself in a chamber that was more opulent than any she had seen so far, the walls adorned with gold leaf and deep red silk. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she surveyed the room, looking for somewhere to hide. The Doctor was nowhere in sight.
The air grew still, and Clara felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A commanding female voice spoke, echoing through the chamber. "What are you doing in my chamber?" She spun around, her eyes wide with terror, to find herself face to face with a woman of ethereal beauty. The woman's hair flowed like silver silk down her back, and she was clad in a light blue tunic that seemed to shimmer and reveal more than it concealed.
"I'm so sorry for the intrusion," Clara panted, trying to compose herself. "But please, you must lower your voice!"
"I must nothing" Snapped the woman. "Who are you and why are you in my chamber?"
Clara's eyes widened. "I'm Clara," she managed to say, her voice quivering. "We're... travellers. We stumbled upon this place, and everyone seems to be... stuck in time."
The woman's gaze lingered on Clara's bikini, her scepticism palpable. "A traveller dressed as you are," she said, her tone dripping with disdain, "I am not easily fooled. In these lands, such attire is reserved for those who sell their bodies for coin."
Clara felt a flash of irritation. "Look, I don't have time for a fashion critique," she shot back. "We're being chased by those monsters out there. Do you have any idea what's going on?"
"I have the idea that you are one of Daario Naharis wenches. I have the idea that you tried to sneak here to steal something and now that I've caught you, you are trying to confuse me with a fake story about some monster."
Clara gritted her teeth, resisting the temptation to insult the woman in front of her. "Listen, Miss...."
"I am no 'Miss'," the woman said sharply, her eyes narrowing. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons."
Clara shook her head. "This is going nowhere,” she said. "Sorry your Grace, but I have no time for this nonsense."
Turning on her heel, Clara made for the door, but before she could even touch the handle, a firm hand closed around her arm. She looked over her shoulder to find Daenerys, her eyes ablaze with a fiery intensity that matched her reputation. "You will not leave until you explain yourself, you wench" she said, her grip unyielding.
"It's better you let go...your Grace." Clara said sharply, spitting the title as it was an insult.
"Or what.... wench?"
Clara's hand flew up, and she slapped Daenerys across the face with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. The Queen of Dragons stumbled back, shock etched into every line of her once regal features. The room went still, the only sound the harsh breathing of the two women facing off.
Daenerys's hand flew to her cheek, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You dare?" she hissed, the fire in her eyes burning hotter.
Clara's heart sank as she realized the gravity of her mistake. "I'm so sorry," she began, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to..."
But before she could finish her apology, Daenerys had moved with the swiftness of a viper. Her hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of Clara's hair, yanking her head back. Clara yelped in pain, her eyes watering as she stared up at the enraged Targaryen.
Daenerys's other hand rose, her palm poised to deliver a punishing blow. Clara could see the rage in her eyes, the fiery determination of a woman who had survived so much and was not about to be cowed by a mere trespasser. The slap landed with the force of a thunderclap, sending a jolt of pain through Clara's cheek.
Without missing a beat, Clara responded with a move she had learned from a previous adventure with the Doctor. She reached up and grabbed a handful of Daenerys's hair, yanking it back with all her might. The two women locked eyes, the tension in the air thickening like the humidity outside.
Daenerys's grip tightened, and Clara felt her scalp sting as she was pulled into a dance of rage, their steps echoing through the grand chamber. They spun and twisted, each trying to overpower the other, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The tapestries fluttered around them as if caught in a storm, the very fabric of reality seeming to shiver with the force of their struggle.
And then, with a sudden twist, Clara felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked down to see Daenerys's nails embedded in her flesh, the woman's eyes wild with a fierce determination. The Doctor's voice echoed in her mind, warning her of the dangers of interfering with alien civilizations, but Clara's instinct took over. She couldn't just stand there and be a victim.
With a roar of her own, Clara shoved Daenerys away with all her strength. The other woman stumbled back, releasing Clara's hair and giving her the space she needed. Clara's hands balled into fists, her body tense and ready for combat. Her eyes never left Daenerys, who had also regained her balance, her own fists clenched and ready to strike.
"You know what? Screw this," Clara blurted out. "You want to fight? Bring it on!"
Daenerys's expression shifted from shock to amusement, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She took a step closer to Clara, her hand dropping to the hilt of a dagger at her waist. "I shall teach you to respect your betters," she said, her voice a low, dangerous purr.
But Clara was not so easily intimidated. She'd faced down the Weeping Angels, the Daleks, and the Cybermen. A medieval queen in a stolen moment of time was not going to be her undoing. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, bracing herself for what she knew was coming.
Their first blows were clumsy and awkward, reminiscent of a child's play fight rather than the fierce combat they both had in mind. Clara's punches glanced off Daenerys's arms, while the queen's slaps barely grazed Clara's cheek. They stumbled and flailed, their movements exaggerated and lacking in grace. The only thing they had going for them was their sheer will to dominate the other.
Then, as if the universe itself had decided to throw a wrench into their furious dance, Daenerys' hand became snagged on Clara's bikini. The flimsy material gave way with a ripping sound that seemed to cut through the tension like a knife. Clara gasped, her hands flying to cover herself, as the fabric fell away, exposing her bare chest.
"See?" scoffed Daenerys while throwing away the bikini top "No honest woman would ever wear something like this in public"
Clara felt a blush creeping up her neck, but she didn't let it show on her face. "Well, your tunic isn't exactly leaving much to the imagination either," she shot back, her voice steady. "In fact, I can see that your pussy is as bare as an egg."
Daenerys' smile faltered for a moment, her hand flying to her chest as she realized Clara's words were true. She had been so focused on Clara's attire that she had neglected her own. "You... you...!" she sputtered, her cheeks flushing.
With a cheeky grin, Clara stepped closer, her hands reaching for the delicate fabric of the tunic. "Since you're so keen on pointing out my wardrobe malfunction," she said, her voice light and teasing despite the tension in her body, "I might as well return the favor."
Daenerys' eyes widened in disbelief as Clara's fingers found purchase on the silky material. With a swift, violent motion, Clara tore the tunic away, revealing the queen's nakedness beneath. The garment fluttered to the floor like a defeated flag, leaving the queen exposed and flustered.
Daenerys shrieked in embarrassment, her hands flying to cover her breasts and sex, her dignity in tatters. Clara couldn't help but laugh, the sound bouncing off the gold-leafed walls. "Your grace," Clara said, her voice thick with mirth, "what's the matter? You've got nothing to be shy about, you've already been flaunting it more than I have!"
The alien queen's eyes narrowed, the humor of the situation lost on her. With a snarl, she lunged at Clara, her nails now aimed at Clara's eyes. Clara was ready, though, and she ducked to the side, the two of them tumbling to the floor. The opulent rugs softened their fall, but did nothing to lessen the fury of their grappling. They rolled and twisted, each trying to gain the upper hand, their bare flesh sliding against each other's in a tangle of limbs.
Daenerys's fury soon had Clara pinned beneath her, her thighs straddling Clara's hips, her hands pinning Clara's wrists to the floor. Clara felt the weight of the woman's naked body pressing down on her, and she knew that she had underestimated the fiery Targaryen. The air was thick with their mingled scents of sweat and fear, their breaths hot and ragged.
Clara bucked her hips, trying to throw Daenerys off balance, but the queen held firm. "You dare to lay your hands on me?" she hissed, her teeth bared. "You are not worthy to touch a single hair on my head!"
The rage in Clara's eyes burned brighter than any dragon's fire. She had had enough of the woman's haughty demeanor and the way she had treated her. With a grunt, Clara managed to twist one hand free and slapped Daenerys hard across the face. The sound reverberated through the chamber, and Clara felt a strange thrill of power surge through her.
Daenerys's expression of shock quickly turned to fury. She threw her weight onto Clara, her nails digging into Clara's wrists as she leaned down, her teeth bared in a snarl. "You will pay for that, whore," she spat.
Her hand reared back, and Clara felt the first slap connect with her cheek, the sting radiating through her face. It was a sharp, stinging pain that brought tears to her eyes. Daenerys' hand was like a whip, and she wielded it with the precision of a seasoned fighter. Clara's head snapped to the side, and she bit back a cry, refusing to give the dragon queen the satisfaction of hearing her pain.
The Doctor had taught her never to back down, never to show fear, and she wasn't about to start now. She brought her own hand up to return the blow, her palm cracking against Daenerys' cheek with a sound that seemed to resonate through the chamber. The queen's eyes widened in shock, and Clara took advantage of the brief respite to bring her legs up and wrap them around the woman's waist. With all her strength, she bucked and twisted, using her legs to try and unseat her.
Daenerys' eyes narrowed, her grip on Clara's wrists tightening, but Clara's determination was unshakeable. She kicked and thrashed, her legs a vice around the queen's midsection. Slowly, inexorably, she felt the other woman's balance shift, felt her begin to topple backward. With a grunt of effort, Clara managed to roll them both over, so that she was now straddling Daenerys' chest, her own naked breasts heaving with exertion.
Daenerys' shock was momentary. With a roar of fury, she tried to shove Clara off, but Clara was ready for her. Smiling wickedly, Clara reached down and grabbed the queen's nipples, twisting them brutally. Daenerys' eyes went wide with pain and shock, and she let out a gasp that was half moan, half scream. The room seemed to spin around them, the tapestries fluttering wildly as the two women writhed on the floor, their bodies entwined in a dance of anger and passion.
Daenerys's own hand flew up to Clara's chest, her nails digging into the soft flesh of Clara's breasts. Clara's eyes squeezed shut, her teeth grinding together as she felt the sharp pain. But she didn't let go, instead returning the favor with renewed vigor, pinching and squeezing the queen's tender flesh. They were locked in a silent battle of wills, their breaths coming in harsh pants, their eyes never leaving each other's.
Their bodies rolled and bucked on the floor, their legs entwined as they tried to maintain their dominance over the other. The plush rugs did little to cushion their bare skin, and Clara felt the burn of the marble floor against her back as they rolled onto it. She gritted her teeth, refusing to let go, her eyes never leaving Daenerys' face, which was a mask of rage and surprise.
And then, like a bolt of lightning, Daenerys' eyes flicked to the side, and she shouted, "Guards! There's an intruder!"
Clara's eyes darted to the spot where Daenerys had looked, and for a split second, she thought she saw a shadowy figure out of the corner of her eye. The Queen's ruse was almost too convincing. Clara's grip on the woman's wrists loosened just enough for Daenerys to slide free. The dragon queen's body was slick with sweat and anger, making her as slippery as a fish in a river. Clara tried to hold on, but it was too late.
Daenerys was on her feet, her bare breasts heaving with rage as she made a break for the door. Clara, still sprawled on the floor, lunged with a desperate cry, her fingers wrapping around the woman's ankle. The alien queen stumbled, her arms windmilling wildly as she tried to maintain her balance. But Clara had her, and she wasn't letting go.
With a snarl of fury, Daenerys twisted her body, trying to shake Clara off. But Clara's grip was like iron, and she felt the woman's ankle give way. The Queen of Dragons fell face first into the plush rug, her bare body sliding to a stop. Clara was laying face down on the rug holding Daenerys foot with her hands, her eyes never leaving her opponent's. "I told you, you're not getting rid of me that easily," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
Daenerys' eyes narrowed as she felt Clara's breath hot against her skin. The human had a wild, feral look in her eyes, a look that sent a shiver of fear down the queen's spine. Without warning, Clara's teeth sank into Dany’s foot, the pain shooting up her leg like a bolt of lightning. She screamed, the sound echoing through the chamber, and tried to kick her free.
Daenerys howled in pain, her eyes watering. She kicked and bucked, but Clara's grip was unyielding. Her teeth sank deeper, and she felt the give of flesh beneath her bite. The queen's cries grew more desperate, and Clara knew she had her where she wanted her. With a grin, she released the bite and switched tactics, her nails now digging into the soft arch of Daenerys' foot, scoring deep furrows into her flesh.
Daenerys' eyes widened in shock and decided to give her opponent a taste of her own medicine. With surprising speed, she reached for Clara's own foot. Clara tried to yank it away, but not fast enough. The queen's nails raked across her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Clara's own scream of pain pierced the air, mingling with the queen's. They were locked in a grim dance of pain and dominance, each trying to outdo the other.
Daenerys' teeth clamped down on Clara's toes, and Clara felt the sharpness of her teeth bite through to the bone. The pain was unbearable, and Clara's body jerked reflexively, her nails digging into the queen's flesh even deeper. The room was a cacophony of grunts and cries, the two of them writhing on the floor like animals fighting for survival.
Clara's eyes watered as she felt the warm wetness of her own blood. She had underestimated the Targaryen, thinking she could play her games. But Daenerys was no pawn to be manipulated. She was a queen, a warrior, and Clara had awakened the dragon within her. The queen's grip on Clara's foot tightened, her claws sinking in even deeper.
With a snarl of defiance, Clara's teeth found purchase on the tender flesh of the queen's foot. She bit down, hard, and felt Dany’s body convulse with pain. Daenerys's scream filled the chamber, and Clara felt a dark thrill of satisfaction.
Clara free shot her free foot against Daenerys’ body, slamming her heel into the queen’s ribs. The impact was like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of Dany and sending a jolt of pain through Clara's own leg. But Daenerys didn't let go, her teeth still buried in the brunette's foot, her nails still digging into her calf.
With a roar of rage, Daenerys shot a kick of her own, her leg a blur of motion and by sheer luck her foot connected with Clara's crotch with a sickening thud. Clara's eyes bulged with agony, her body convulsing as she released the queen's foot. She doubled over, clutching her injured genitals, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
Daenerys took the opportunity to roll away, her own breath coming in ragged pants. She stumbled to her feet, her eyes never leaving Clara's writhing form. "You dare to touch me like that?" she snarled, her eyes gleaming with a feral light. "You will pay for your audacity with your life!"
Clara looked up at the enraged queen through a haze of pain, her eyes filled with a determination that mirrored the other woman's. "Bring it on," she ground out, pushing herself to her knees.
Daenerys didn't need another invitation. With a snarl that would put a dragon to shame, she launched herself at Clara, her bare breasts bouncing as she moved. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed Clara's crotch with a ferocity that made Clara see stars. Clara's eyes bulged as the alien's grip tightened, her nails digging into the sensitive flesh.
The pain was like nothing Clara had ever felt before. It was as if she had been plunged into a vat of boiling oil, her body on fire from the inside out. She screamed, a raw, primal sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the palace. Her hands flew to her crotch, trying to pry the queen's fingers away, but Daenerys was like a vise, unyielding and unrelenting.
Through the haze of pain, Clara felt a sudden sense of cold air on her most sensitive parts. Her eyes snapped open in shock as she watched Daenerys hold up her bikini bottom, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "See?" she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "You are hairy like all commoners."
Clara's mind raced, trying to think of a witty retort, but the agony of the queen's left hand squeezing her labia was all-consuming. Her vision swam, and she could feel the beginnings of a migraine building behind her eyes. "You bitch!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the pain.
Daenerys's smile grew wider, more vindictive. With a swift movement she sat down on Clara’ stomach, facing her legs, Clara’s arms firmly pinned under her knees. Then Dany began to gleefully pluck at the strands of Clara's pubis with surprising delicacy, as if she were picking a bouquet of flowers. Clara felt each hair being torn from her body, the sensation sending shockwaves through her.
"You think you can come into my chamber and disrespect me?" Daenerys spat, her voice low and venomous. "You will learn your place, skank."
Clara's eyes blazed with fury as she watched the queen's hand inch closer to her crotch, her nails poised to rip out every last strand of pubic hair. "Let go!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from pain.
Daenerys chuckled, the sound dark and mirthless. "You should thank me," she said, her voice a dangerous purr. "After this, you'll look like a proper woman."
Her fingers continued their cruel dance, plucking and pinching, and Clara felt the beginnings of a scream building in her chest. But just as the pain reached a crescendo, something unexpected happened. Daenerys's hand slipped, her knuckles brushing against Clara's clit. Clara's body jolted, a wave of pleasure crashing through her like a tidal wave, briefly overwhelming the pain.
Daenerys's eyes narrowed as she watched Clara's body react to her touch, the sudden tensing of muscles, the sharp intake of breath. In that moment, she realized she had made a mistake, one that could be used to her advantage. With a smirk, she leaned in closer, her breath hot on Clara's skin. "Do you like that, whore?" she taunted.
Clara's eyes snapped open, the pain forgotten as she stared up at the alien queen with a mix of anger and confusion. "What...what are you doing?" she choked out, her voice strained.
Daenerys's smile grew wicked. "What does it feel like?" she murmured, her thumb beginning to rub Clara's clit in slow, deliberate circles. "Does it feel good, little wench?"
Clara's body was a battleground of pain and pleasure, the two sensations waging war within her. She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the way her body was betraying her, trying to arch into the touch that brought her so much agony. "Stop," she gasped, her voice thick with emotion.
Daenerys's thumb didn't cease its tormenting movement. "Why should I?" she purred, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You seem to be enjoying it."
Clara's breath was coming in shallow pants, her cheeks flaming with a mix of humiliation and arousal. She tried to push the queen away, but her body felt weak and limp beneath her, her strength draining away with each stroke of that maddening thumb. "I said, stop," she growled, her voice low and threatening.
Daenerys chuckled, her thumb never faltering in its rhythmic motion. "But why would I do that?" she asked, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to caress Clara's ear. "It's clear you're enjoying this, little whore. You're wet for me, aren't you?"
Clara's eyes blazed with anger, her body trembling with the effort of resisting the unwelcome sensations. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tumult of rage and humiliation. But she knew that she couldn't let the queen see her weakness. With a snarl, she summoned every ounce of her strength and bucked her hips, her legs wrapping around Daenerys' waist like a vice. The queen's eyes went wide with surprise as she was toppled over, her face slammed into the plush carpet.
Daenerys' bare buttocks were now thrust in the air, an inviting target that Clara couldn't ignore. She took a moment to revel in the power shift, her hands moving to the queen's hips, gripping them firmly. The room was silent except for their harsh breaths and the distant echo of their earlier cries. Clara felt a sense of control return to her, and she knew exactly what she needed to do to regain the upper hand.
With a feral grin, Clara's hand shot down, her palm slapping hard against the queen's bare ass. The sound echoed through the chamber, a clear declaration of her intent. Daenerys' body jerked in shock, her eyes flying open to meet Clara's cold, determined gaze. Clara's hand fell again and again, the sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberating off the gold-leafed walls. The Doctor's companion wasn't holding back; she was giving the alien queen a taste of her own medicine, and she was enjoying every moment of it.
Daenerys' screams grew louder with each spank, her body writhing in a desperate attempt to escape Clara's vice-like grip. But Clara was relentless, her hand moving in a blur as she painted the queen's ass a fiery red. The plush rugs beneath them were no match for the force of her swings, the air thick with the scent of pain and humiliation. Each slap left a handprint on the alabaster skin, a stark contrast against the deepening red.
"Mercy!" Daenerys finally gasped out, her voice a broken whisper. "Please, I beg you, stop!"
But Clara's fury was not so easily sated. Her own cheek stung from the slap that had started it all, and the pain in her crotch was a constant, throbbing reminder of the queen's cruelty. She ignored the pleas, her eyes glinting with a cold fire. With a vicious snarl, she bent down and buried her nails into the tender, reddened flesh of Daenerys' buttocks.
Daenerys' screams grew shriller, her body writhing and bucking as Clara's nails raked across her skin. The alien queen's once proud and haughty demeanor was now reduced to desperate whimpers, her dignity scattered like ashes in the wind. Clara felt a dark satisfaction as she watched the woman who had called her a whore and treated her with such contempt beg for mercy.
Finally, her anger abating, Clara released her grip on Daenerys' hips and rolled away, her chest heaving from exertion. The queen collapsed into a fetal position, her body trembling with sobs, her bare ass a canvas of pain and redness.
The Doctor's companion took a moment to catch her breath before pushing herself to her feet, the cold marble sending a shiver through her body. Her eyes fell on her discarded bikini, lying in a crumpled heap nearby. As she reached for it, a devious smile curved her lips. Before donning it again, she had one more thing to do.
Clara walked over Daenerys and used her foot to roll her on the back. Clara pressed her foot on Daenerys bruised left tit, holding her in place.
"You liked treating me like a whore," Clara declared. "Let's see if you like being treated like one."
With that, Clara straddled Daenerys, her knees pressing into the queen's shoulders, and lowered her bare crotch onto the alien's face. The dragon queen's eyes widened in horror as Clara's sex descended, obscuring her vision. The smell of Clara's arousal filled the air, a scent that was at once alien and intoxicating. Clara felt a twisted sense of power as she watched the proud Targaryen queen squirm beneath her, her nose and mouth buried in the soft, wet flesh of Clara's pussy.
"Lick me," Clara ordered, her voice cold and imperious. "You treated me like a whore? Then act like the filthy little slut you are and make me come."
Daenerys's eyes bulged, her mouth open in shock, but Clara didn't wait for a response. She began to grind her pelvis against the queen's face, the soft, slick folds of her pussy sliding over her nose and mouth. The alien queen's struggles grew weaker, her body trembling with the effort of trying to breathe through the crushing weight. Clara's hips moved in a steady rhythm, her clit swollen and aching for release.
The sound of Clara's wetness filled the room, a testament to the effect Daenerys' earlier torment had had on her. The alien queen's tongue darted out, tentatively at first, and Clara felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through her. It was clear that despite her protests, Daenerys had some experience with this act, her tongue moving in a way that was surprisingly skilled. Clara's eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure.
Daenerys' tongue grew bolder, licking and probing Clara's sensitive folds with a hunger that Clara found both alarming and exhilarating. Her breath grew ragged, her hips moving in a desperate rhythm as she chased the climax that was building within her. She could feel it, a tight coil in her belly, winding tighter and tighter with each stroke of the queen's tongue.
The pleasure grew until it was a crescendo, a wave that crashed over Clara with the force of a hurricane. She threw her head back and screamed, her body convulsing as she came, her juices spilling out over Daenerys' face. The queen's eyes squeezed shut, a whimper of protest escaping her, but Clara didn't care. She ground her crotch into the alien's face, her thighs squeezing the sides of her head, forcing her to taste every last drop of Clara's victory.
When the storm of pleasure had passed, Clara looked down at the alien beneath her, her face a mask of shock and horror, her tongue coated with Clara's fluids. "Please," Daenerys murmured, her voice thick and muffled. "Please, let me go."
But Clara had other ideas. She swiftly turned, her face to Daenerys' legs. She looked over her shoulder, a smug smile playing on her lips. "You think this is over?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous. "You're wrong."
With a swift, deliberate movement, Clara lowered her shapely butt, the soft, rounded cheeks descending until they enveloped Daenerys' nose and mouth. The dragon queen's features were buried under Clara's flesh, leaving only her eyes peeking out, wide with shock and horror. Clara felt a twisted thrill as she sat fully, her weight pressing down on the woman who had tried to conquer her. The sound of muffled protests and the warm, wet feel of the queen's mouth against her skin was exhilarating.
Daenerys's legs began to kick and thrash, her body wriggling under Clara's firm grip. She tried to push the human away, but Clara's legs were like steel bands, holding her in place. The alien's eyes grew frantic, her nostrils flaring as she struggled to breathe around the thick, musky scent of Clara's sex. Clara leaned back, placing her hands on her own thighs, watching the queen's distress with a smug satisfaction. She felt the queen's tongue against her, tentative and confused, and she couldn't help but chuckle.
The queen's movements grew weaker, her body's desperate attempts to break free now feeble. Clara knew she was cutting off the air to her lungs, but she didn't care. This was her moment of triumph, and she was going to savor every second of it. The Queen's eyes grew glassy, and Clara felt a strange thrill knowing that she had the power to end her life if she chose to.
But as she felt the tension leave the queen's body, she knew she had made her point. With a grunt of effort, Clara lifted herself off, the suction from the queen's desperate breaths releasing with a wet sound that made her skin crawl. Daenerys gasped for air, her chest heaving as she rolled onto her side, her eyes glazed with fear and anger.
Clara looked around the opulent chamber, her eyes landing on the shredded tunic that had once covered the alien's body. With a smirk, she bent down and grabbed the fabric, the silky material feeling almost obscene in her hands. She ripped it into strips, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
Daenerys's eyes followed her every move, a mix of rage and fear in their depths. She knew she was at Clara's mercy, and the thought filled her with a fury that burned hotter than a dragon's breath. But she was also smart enough to know that Clara had bested her, and that she was in no position to resist.
Clara took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of the fight. She felt a thrill of power as she bent over the defeated queen, her own body still humming with the aftershocks of her orgasm. With a wicked grin, she began to tie the strips of fabric around the queen's wrists, securing them tightly. Daenerys's struggles grew weaker, her breath coming in ragged gasps as Clara's weight pinned her to the floor.
Next, Clara moved to her ankles, tying them together with a swift, practiced ease that spoke of her past experiences with restraint. The fabric was surprisingly strong, biting into Dany' skin, leaving red marks that stood out starkly against her pale, unblemished flesh. The queen's eyes followed Clara's every move, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. "You can't do this," she choked out, her voice strained.
"Apparently, I already am," Clara quipped, her voice filled with a dark amusement that seemed out of place in the opulent chamber. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, the queen's naked body now bound and at her mercy. Daenerys lay on her side, her breasts heaving with each panicked breath, her legs drawn up to her chest in a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of dignity.
Daenerys' eyes flashed with rage, and she spat out a string of insults that Clara found almost comical in their fury. "You... you... hairy whore! Peasant! Slut! Dirty Ibbenese prostitute!" The words were thick with spite, but Clara just chuckled, a sound that grated on the alien's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
"Is that all you've got?" Clara taunted, her voice dripping with disdain. "Your language is as primitive as your understanding of respect." She leaned over the bound queen, her breasts swinging freely, a stark contrast to the furious woman beneath her.
Her eyes fell upon a fruit bowl on a nearby table, filled with exotic delights that shimmered in the dim light of the chamber. Without a second thought, Clara plucked out a ripe, purple fruit and held it before the queen's face. "Open up," she ordered, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Daenerys's eyes narrowed in defiance, but Clara was unfazed. She leaned in closer, her thumb and forefinger pinching the queen's nostrils shut with surprising force. Daenerys's breath grew rapid, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe. Clara waited, watching the queen's chest rise and fall with increasing desperation. And just as she knew she would, Daenerys's mouth opened to gasp for air.
With a wicked grin, Clara took the opportunity to shove the purple fruit into the queen's open mouth, the plump flesh smacking against her teeth. The fruit's sweet, tangy juice filled the room as Clara forced it in, her fingers pressing against the queen's tongue. Daenerys choked, her eyes wide with shock and disgust, as Clara's hand muffled her protests. The fruit's flesh squished between her teeth, the juice mixing with her saliva.
Satisfied that she had made her point, Clara stood up, her legs wobbly from the intensity of the fight and her victory. She picked up her torn bikini and, with a sigh of relief, pulled it on. The fabric felt strange against her bruised and abused body, but it was a welcome barrier, a symbol of her reclaimed dignity. She looked down at the bound and gagged queen with a sense of triumph. Daenerys's eyes blazed with rage, but Clara knew she had won, at least for now.
The Doctor's companion took one last look around the opulent chamber, her eyes lingering on the shimmering fabric of the bed hangings and the glint of gold in the candlelight. This wasn't her world, and she had no business here. But she had made her mark, and she wasn't about to let the alien queen forget it. With a flick of her hair, she turned and strode out of the room, her hips swaying with a newfound confidence.
Daenerys's muffled protests grew fainter with each step Clara took away from her. The sound was like a distant echo in Clara's ears, a reminder of the power she now held. She could feel the woman's eyes on her, filled with rage and a hint of fear. It was a heady feeling, one she wasn't quite ready to let go of yet.
Her bare feet padded quietly down the cold, marble corridor, the sound of her steps the only noise in the eerily silent palace. The fight had left her body bruised and aching, but she pushed the pain aside, focusing on finding the Doctor. She knew he was somewhere in this time-frozen maze, and she had a feeling she might need his help to get out of this situation.
Turning a corner, Clara's steps faltered at the sight that greeted her. The Doctor, dressed in his usual quirky attire, was standing in the grand audience chamber, surrounded by the very alien creatures they had been fighting. But instead of the usual tension and fear, he was chatting away as if they were old friends reunited after a long absence. The monsters, for their part, seemed equally at ease, their sharp claws and teeth no longer a threat, but rather tools to gesture with as they spoke.
"Ah, Clara," the Doctor exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he spotted her. "There you are. I've just been having a lovely chat with our new friends here." He waved a hand at the creatures, who nodded in her direction.
Clara approached, her eyes still blazing from the fight, her breaths coming in gasps. "Friends?" she repeated incredulously, her gaze sweeping over the monstrous forms before her. The Doctor nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Apparently, these are the Rrrr’tha’rrrs," he said, gesturing to the creatures. "Their spaceship had a bit of a hiccup, so they put the whole city on pause so they could fix it without causing a panic."
Clara's eyes narrowed, the adrenaline from her fight with the queen still coursing through her veins. She approached the Doctor, her gait unsteady from the aftermath of her victory. "What about the people?" she demanded, her voice still thick with the passion of their earlier confrontation. "Why are they all statues?"
The Doctor's smile remained in place, but his eyes grew serious. "Ah, yes. The Rrrr’tha’rrrs have a unique way of interacting with the natives of the planets they visit. They freeze them in time so as not to disrupt their lives too much." He looked at Clara with a twinkle in his eye. "By the way, what happened to you?"
"Well..." Clara started. "Apparently the Rrrr’tha’rrrs ' technology apparently is not 100% reliable and I had an...encounter with a local."
The Doctor's smile remained unchanged, his eyes still twinkling with curiosity. "Oh, really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do tell. Did you find someone interesting?"
Clara's exhaustion was palpable in her voice, but the Doctor seemed utterly oblivious to it. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort. "Interesting isn't the word I'd use," she replied, her eyes still blazing. "But let's just say I've had a... enlightening experience."
The Doctor's grin grew even wider, if that was possible. "Fantastic! I knew you'd fit right in. You see, Clara, these delightful Rrrr’tha’rrrs have invited us to their planet. Apparently, they're quite the social butterflies, and they love to host guests from other worlds. It's all very civilized, really. They've got some splendid tech, too. This time-freezing gizmo is just the tip of the iceberg."
Clara felt a sudden surge of irritation. "No, Doctor…YOU are going to visit the Rrrr’tha’rrrs’s planet; but, before that, you are going to bring me somewhere I can be healed. THEN you will bring me back in Mallorca at the exact. Same. Second. You took me away, so I can end my holydays without missing a moment.
The Doctor's smile didn't waver, but his eyes searched hers and he saw a resolve and an inflexibility he had never seen before. The Doctor had defeated the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Silence, the Sontarans....but he understood that, apparently, he would never be able to defy a Clara Oswald who just wanted to finish her holiday.
