Professor Keller, chapter 3
May. 22nd, 2015 08:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: Professor Keller
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Horror
Length: Multi-chapter; 4/?
Characters: The Master(Delgado), original characters
Warnings: For this chapter; mind games.
Summary: Alison and Peter Grey are living a charmed life, young, wealthy and in love. Until they meet a professor Keller and they find themselves trapped in a nightmare. Set between Terror of the Autons and The Mind of Evil.
AN: There will be some brief violence in this story, but mostly this is about psychological terror. Though there are both het and slash within the story, neither will be explicit. It will, however, nudging at dubious consent, but not explicit and not violent. As it seems right now, it will also take place off-stage. As the events of this story may be triggering, each chapter will have warnings accordingly.
And I really want to say a special thank you toflowsoffire who cheers me on so faithfully and find my typos! I appreciate it so much. I know it's not a fic with a general appeal, but it is still very nice to know that at least one person likes it! :)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Alison had a hangover the next day, not a truly bad one, but she spent most of the day in bed, plied with tea from a somewhat guilty-struck Peter. Now, in broad daylight, the events on the balcony seemed so improbable, that she almost felt it hadn’t happened. Respectable professors might, possibly, kiss other people, but they just didn’t go around slapping them. And though Alison knew it had been real, she felt more and more reluctant to talk about it. Every time Petr came to check on her she decided to delay telling him just a bit longer.
In the early afternoon Peter coaxed her downstairs and fed her an omelette. He looked fresh faced and was dressed for going out, having made an appointment with the Professor.
“But only if you feel it’s all right,” he told her. “If you don’t feel well, I’ll stay with you, of course.”
Alison, who would rather not be alone, almost said so when it occurred to her that if Peter was going off with Professor Keller, then he wouldn’t come here. If Peter stayed home, then it was quite likely that he would drop by during the evening and she really didn’t want to see him. So she assured Peter that she felt better and that she planned to have a nice long bath and watch something on TV before an early bed.
And still she didn’t tell him of what had happened on the balcony. Peter seemed so happy and she hated to spoil his evening. She had to tell him, but she would wait a little longer. Tomorrow would be good when she has slept away the last lingering traces of the hangover.
The bath made Alison feel a lot better, and she decided to go down to the kitchen to warm some milk with honey, a childhood remedy her mother had always insisted on after a nightmare. She was still tying the belt of her dressing gown when she heard the front door open. Smiling she ran down the stairs, thinking that Peter had decided to stay home with her, after all. But the person she met in the hallway was not her husband but Professor Keller, who was removing his overcoat as if he had just stepped inside his own home.
Alison’s smile froze. “How did you get in here?”
“With a key, of course.”
“Where did you a key? This is my home, you are not welcome!”
He smiled quite kindly. “My dear, I have a key because I asked Peter to give me one.”
For a moment or two the surprise made Alison unable to speak. When she found it again it quivered more than she liked. “He never told me. When did this happen?”
The Professor shrugged. “Oh, a week ago, or so.”
“It can’t be true, Peter would have told me. He would! Give it back!”
She held out her hand, but the Professor just tossed the key into the air and caught it, his black-gloved hand closing around it tightly, before he pocketed it.
“No. We have things to discuss.”
“I don’t want to talk with you!”
Alison marched past the Professor to show him out, but before she could open the door, he took her arm and swung her back toward him. She had noticed before that the Professor, despite his commanding personality, wasn’t a very tall man. In the high heels she usually wore she could look him straight in the eyes, but now that didn’t matter. Barefoot, she had to look up at him and somehow he seemed a great deal taller than he actually was . Clad only in a thin dressing gown she felt vulnerable, and her anger was abruptly washed away in a wave of real fear. They were alone in the house and he had hit her yesterday, hit her and kissed her and it was all far beyond any reference of behaviour that she could imagine, she didn’t know how to handle this and she was scared.
“Please leave. You have no right to be here.” Alison tried to shrug of his hand, but his grip only hardened, making her wince in pain.
“Rights are for those who take them.” The Professor spoke in a low voice, close to her ear. Despite his words he sounded very kind, caring. “You, you are all like children here, unformed, thoughtless. You and your husband play with your shiny toys, but you have no purpose in life, no direction. You need someone who takes care of you. Someone to tell you what you should do.”
“You hit me yesterday. And you are hurting me now.” But her voice was very small now.
“And you don’t like being hurt, do you? Pity, pain can be very educational.”
He let go of her arm, his hand slid around her waist and then pressed into the small of her back, forcing her closer to him. His other hand tilted up her chin so she couldn’t look away.
“Don’t hit me again,” Alison whispered. To her shame she was almost crying, and she blinked hard to stop the tears.
“Of course not,” the Professor’s voice was warm now, soothing. “Because you will not give me any more reason for it. So, there, no need for crying, I gather you didn’t tell Peter anything about our little encounter yesterday. Tell me, why not?”
“I, I don’t really know.”
“I will tell you why. Because you already know that Peter won’t believe you.”
“Of course he will.”
“Are you sure about that? I don’t think so. Peter trusts me, you see. I’m his friend; I have his best interests at heart. Why would he believe you when he already knows that you were drunk yesterday?”
Alison wanted to protest, she had never even considered that Peter wouldn’t believe her, but now she felt doubtful, all the same.
“And even if he believed you, what would happen then? What would it do to him? He would be very upset, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I have been good for him. You know how lost he felt before I came here. I have given him the purpose he has been longing after for a long time. Can you deny that?”
She shook her head. What he said was true, Peter would be devastated if he knew, which truly was one of the reasons she had hold of from telling him.
“And you love him very much. You don’t want to make him unhappy. So you won’t tell him.”
The words slid into her mind, like snakes, twisting and turning and Alison found it difficult to collect her thoughts. While he spoke the hand on her back had gently pushed her closer to him and though he let go of her chin, she could not make herself look away. He had so very strange eyes, now they seemed to darken and it felt that by just meeting his gaze, she lost all hope of thinking clearly. She didn’t want to hurt Peter, and that was all she would accomplish by telling him. Yes, better to not say anything about it. It wasn’t important enough to make Peter feel miserable.
And all while the Professor told her all these things his hands continued to move over her body, slithering over the silk of her dressing gown. Slow, languid movements that Alison didn’t even notice at first. Now she did, and she twisted in his arms to escape the caress.
“I won’t tell Peter, but please, stop touching me. It’s not right.”
He laughed. “As if I care about your petty moral codes. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
A hand gently cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss. Like the day before his lips were cool, and coolness invaded her mouth along with the taste of cigars. Before she knew it she answered the kiss and when the Professor released her, she was breathless and flustered.
“Listen to me, Alison. It is all so very simple. Obey me and everything will be well. As long as you do as I say, you will have no worries. But if you are disobedient, I will punish you.”
Alison could only nod. If she agreed, perhaps he would go away and leave her alone.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You will call me Master. Now give me a proper answer.”
It took her two tries to from the words, they felt uncomfortable and unwilling in her mouth. “I will obey you, Master.”
A look of deep satisfaction flickered over his features and then he finally let go of her, only to reach out a hand to her. “Don’t be afraid.”
But Alison was. She put her hand in his, it looked very white against the black leather and allowed him to lead her up the stairs. And all the time she was afraid, more afraid than she had ever had been before in her life.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Horror
Length: Multi-chapter; 4/?
Characters: The Master(Delgado), original characters
Warnings: For this chapter; mind games.
Summary: Alison and Peter Grey are living a charmed life, young, wealthy and in love. Until they meet a professor Keller and they find themselves trapped in a nightmare. Set between Terror of the Autons and The Mind of Evil.
AN: There will be some brief violence in this story, but mostly this is about psychological terror. Though there are both het and slash within the story, neither will be explicit. It will, however, nudging at dubious consent, but not explicit and not violent. As it seems right now, it will also take place off-stage. As the events of this story may be triggering, each chapter will have warnings accordingly.
And I really want to say a special thank you to
flowsoffire who cheers me on so faithfully and find my typos! I appreciate it so much. I know it's not a fic with a general appeal, but it is still very nice to know that at least one person likes it! :)Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Alison had a hangover the next day, not a truly bad one, but she spent most of the day in bed, plied with tea from a somewhat guilty-struck Peter. Now, in broad daylight, the events on the balcony seemed so improbable, that she almost felt it hadn’t happened. Respectable professors might, possibly, kiss other people, but they just didn’t go around slapping them. And though Alison knew it had been real, she felt more and more reluctant to talk about it. Every time Petr came to check on her she decided to delay telling him just a bit longer.
In the early afternoon Peter coaxed her downstairs and fed her an omelette. He looked fresh faced and was dressed for going out, having made an appointment with the Professor.
“But only if you feel it’s all right,” he told her. “If you don’t feel well, I’ll stay with you, of course.”
Alison, who would rather not be alone, almost said so when it occurred to her that if Peter was going off with Professor Keller, then he wouldn’t come here. If Peter stayed home, then it was quite likely that he would drop by during the evening and she really didn’t want to see him. So she assured Peter that she felt better and that she planned to have a nice long bath and watch something on TV before an early bed.
And still she didn’t tell him of what had happened on the balcony. Peter seemed so happy and she hated to spoil his evening. She had to tell him, but she would wait a little longer. Tomorrow would be good when she has slept away the last lingering traces of the hangover.
The bath made Alison feel a lot better, and she decided to go down to the kitchen to warm some milk with honey, a childhood remedy her mother had always insisted on after a nightmare. She was still tying the belt of her dressing gown when she heard the front door open. Smiling she ran down the stairs, thinking that Peter had decided to stay home with her, after all. But the person she met in the hallway was not her husband but Professor Keller, who was removing his overcoat as if he had just stepped inside his own home.
Alison’s smile froze. “How did you get in here?”
“With a key, of course.”
“Where did you a key? This is my home, you are not welcome!”
He smiled quite kindly. “My dear, I have a key because I asked Peter to give me one.”
For a moment or two the surprise made Alison unable to speak. When she found it again it quivered more than she liked. “He never told me. When did this happen?”
The Professor shrugged. “Oh, a week ago, or so.”
“It can’t be true, Peter would have told me. He would! Give it back!”
She held out her hand, but the Professor just tossed the key into the air and caught it, his black-gloved hand closing around it tightly, before he pocketed it.
“No. We have things to discuss.”
“I don’t want to talk with you!”
Alison marched past the Professor to show him out, but before she could open the door, he took her arm and swung her back toward him. She had noticed before that the Professor, despite his commanding personality, wasn’t a very tall man. In the high heels she usually wore she could look him straight in the eyes, but now that didn’t matter. Barefoot, she had to look up at him and somehow he seemed a great deal taller than he actually was . Clad only in a thin dressing gown she felt vulnerable, and her anger was abruptly washed away in a wave of real fear. They were alone in the house and he had hit her yesterday, hit her and kissed her and it was all far beyond any reference of behaviour that she could imagine, she didn’t know how to handle this and she was scared.
“Please leave. You have no right to be here.” Alison tried to shrug of his hand, but his grip only hardened, making her wince in pain.
“Rights are for those who take them.” The Professor spoke in a low voice, close to her ear. Despite his words he sounded very kind, caring. “You, you are all like children here, unformed, thoughtless. You and your husband play with your shiny toys, but you have no purpose in life, no direction. You need someone who takes care of you. Someone to tell you what you should do.”
“You hit me yesterday. And you are hurting me now.” But her voice was very small now.
“And you don’t like being hurt, do you? Pity, pain can be very educational.”
He let go of her arm, his hand slid around her waist and then pressed into the small of her back, forcing her closer to him. His other hand tilted up her chin so she couldn’t look away.
“Don’t hit me again,” Alison whispered. To her shame she was almost crying, and she blinked hard to stop the tears.
“Of course not,” the Professor’s voice was warm now, soothing. “Because you will not give me any more reason for it. So, there, no need for crying, I gather you didn’t tell Peter anything about our little encounter yesterday. Tell me, why not?”
“I, I don’t really know.”
“I will tell you why. Because you already know that Peter won’t believe you.”
“Of course he will.”
“Are you sure about that? I don’t think so. Peter trusts me, you see. I’m his friend; I have his best interests at heart. Why would he believe you when he already knows that you were drunk yesterday?”
Alison wanted to protest, she had never even considered that Peter wouldn’t believe her, but now she felt doubtful, all the same.
“And even if he believed you, what would happen then? What would it do to him? He would be very upset, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I have been good for him. You know how lost he felt before I came here. I have given him the purpose he has been longing after for a long time. Can you deny that?”
She shook her head. What he said was true, Peter would be devastated if he knew, which truly was one of the reasons she had hold of from telling him.
“And you love him very much. You don’t want to make him unhappy. So you won’t tell him.”
The words slid into her mind, like snakes, twisting and turning and Alison found it difficult to collect her thoughts. While he spoke the hand on her back had gently pushed her closer to him and though he let go of her chin, she could not make herself look away. He had so very strange eyes, now they seemed to darken and it felt that by just meeting his gaze, she lost all hope of thinking clearly. She didn’t want to hurt Peter, and that was all she would accomplish by telling him. Yes, better to not say anything about it. It wasn’t important enough to make Peter feel miserable.
And all while the Professor told her all these things his hands continued to move over her body, slithering over the silk of her dressing gown. Slow, languid movements that Alison didn’t even notice at first. Now she did, and she twisted in his arms to escape the caress.
“I won’t tell Peter, but please, stop touching me. It’s not right.”
He laughed. “As if I care about your petty moral codes. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
A hand gently cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss. Like the day before his lips were cool, and coolness invaded her mouth along with the taste of cigars. Before she knew it she answered the kiss and when the Professor released her, she was breathless and flustered.
“Listen to me, Alison. It is all so very simple. Obey me and everything will be well. As long as you do as I say, you will have no worries. But if you are disobedient, I will punish you.”
Alison could only nod. If she agreed, perhaps he would go away and leave her alone.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You will call me Master. Now give me a proper answer.”
It took her two tries to from the words, they felt uncomfortable and unwilling in her mouth. “I will obey you, Master.”
A look of deep satisfaction flickered over his features and then he finally let go of her, only to reach out a hand to her. “Don’t be afraid.”
But Alison was. She put her hand in his, it looked very white against the black leather and allowed him to lead her up the stairs. And all the time she was afraid, more afraid than she had ever had been before in her life.
