And there they were. Finally. The Master scrambled backwards as the body of the guard combusted from the inside out, the smell of boiling blood filling the air; he didn't look back, though- why should he? The lives of three guards hardly mattered. What mattered was that Jenny had done as he wished; the difficult part was over now.

'Come on!' He grabbed Jenny's hand, knowing but not particularly caring that she was probably going through some kind of moral crisis. 'Thank you,' he breathed, his fingers tight around hers, 'Come on- we'll be fine once we get back to the TARDIS.'

And then, he ran. It would never do, after all, to be caught by Trakenite law enforcement; crime the Master was into, answering for them, not so much. Jenny at his side, he ran, and almost laughed, the giddiness of a plan gone well, the drums racing with his pulses, glad of death and the scent of blood. He thought for a moment how ironic this image must be; he, hand in hand with his lovely young companion, running for their lives. Why, he must look just like the Doctor.

Not once did anyone catch up to them; two Time Lords, both in young, strong bodies; they never stood a chance. The TARDIS door slammed shut behind them as the Master flew to the console, executing a quick combination that sent them directly into the Vortex.

And now, safe.

He sagged against the console for a moment, before looking over at Jenny. Ah. Yes. In the giddy excitement, he'd almost forgotten about this part of the lesson. Giving her a little pout, he opened his arms, beckoning her over.

It was hard to let go of the gun when he reached for her hand. But his grip was safe and reassuring and Jenny held on to the Master's hand just as tightly as he did hers as they ran.

At first she ran blindly, following his footsteps and keeping pace only because she had to. If it was up to her, she would have stopped. Jenny would have turned around and handed herself over to the authorities. Those other two guards, she realised now, hadn't even been armed. And she had shot them anyway.

Those tears came back, blinding her vision for a moment. What would her Dad say if he knew? She had killed again, after he had shown her how easy it was not to?

At that point, the running became something more. It became an escape, a way to forget. Air scorched her lungs as she forced herself to run faster and faster. Her hearts pounded loudly. She could never stop running, never get far enough. The stop inside the TARDIS came all too soon.

Jenny stood there by the door, feeling the tears stream down her face. How old had they been? What could they have accomplished? This hadn't been a war. It had been a rescue mission gone awry.

One step. Two step. Three.

She collapsed in his arms, hugging him tightly.

'Shh, shhh,' the Master tenderly kissed the crown of her head, making senseless, soothing noises, one hand firmly rubbing up and down her back. 'Don't cry, my darling; we're alive, mmm? I'm alive? You saved my life.'

He tipped her chin up, looking into her eyes for a moment, before leaning to kiss the tears from her cheeks. All of it unbearably soppy and sentimental, of course, but that was what she needed at the moment; the Master still needed her loyalty. He needed her to come out of this not regretting what she'd done.

'I am so sorry you had to do that,' he murmured, still holding her close. 'That guard... he wasn't even from Traken, he was an imposter; he'd been following me, I fear, and when he found me on my own...' He shrugged, giving a rueful little chuckle. 'I didn't have a chance to defend myself. If you hadn't been there...'

Let her fill in the rest. That was the important bit; that he was alive. The deaths were incidental.

She felt horribly, impossibly safe in his arms. She didn't deserve to feel this way. Jenny was certain that she deserved something worse for what she had done. But in the Master's arms, she could almost believe that she had done the right thing.

And if she just clung to the fact that she had saved his life... oh, that would make her father proud, wouldn't it? The ending, in this one case, justifying the means?

"I did," she sniffled, looking up at him and finding reassurance in his eyes. "I saved you and... and that's good, I know, Master. But.."

He had been unarmed. She hadn't. And it had been a very fierce looking weapon, indeed.

"I saved you," Jenny repeated, a little more confidently.

But she needed something else. Right now, she needed that thrill from running, that exertion that flushed all feelings and thoughts away. And last night her Master had shown her such a wonderful knew way to forget.

A grim smile crossed her features and she looked at him, eyes serious. She'd do anything right now to lose herself. She'd probably even kill again. "The riding crop. Do you... can you use it on me?"

It would be her reward. That would be fitting, wouldn't it? Reaffirmation of how alive she was after killing those men. Maybe then she could get through this.

Somehow. In some way.

Good. Once again, she was practically doing all the work for him, repeating over and over that she'd saved him, making herself believe it, making that fact more important than the fact of those three men's deaths. Still though, there was something in her eyes the Master didn't like. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd somehow managed to inherit her father's tendency towards ridiculous amounts of guilt and sentimentality.

Her words made him frown faintly. Not because he was at all averse to the idea of seeing Jenny under the lash, but because of what she meant by asking for it. His brow furrowed.

'Punishment,' he stated flatly. 'Do you think you need punishment for that? Because I'm not going to punish you; you did nothing wrong.'

She shook her head, lips pursed in a small frown. Punishment would be remembering. It would be living the scene over and over again in her head, wallowing in the guilt. Didn't he understand that? Didn't he understand that she needed something good to out weigh the bad?

"No," Jenny answered stubbornly, brows furrowed together. "No, not punishment. I don't want you to punish me. I want you to hurt me."

Because, in the end, that had felt good. And the arousal, the build up of pleasure from it had been unlike anything else she had ever experienced. There was, she was almost sure, a difference in punishment and being hurt because she wanted it.

'Hmm.'

The Master gazed at her for a moment or two, his eyes intense, as if trying to read the thoughts behind her eyes. She was being sincere, of course she was; the Master rather doubted if she even had the capability to lie. But even so, the subconscious mind was a powerful thing; it was easy to be influenced by it without even knowing.

After a moment, though, he nodded just slightly, drawing her close to kiss her softly. As much positive reinforcement as he could give her; she was like a wayward dog, or a horse (albeit a particularly attractive one), she just needed training.

'Very well,' he murmured softly, almost a whisper, 'If you want me to hurt you, then hurt you I shall. But...' His speech trailed off for a moment, his lips twisting in pleased thought. 'Not the crop this time, I don't think. There are other kinds of pain that feel just as good.'

Giving her a smile at once crooked and reassuring, he took her hand, leading her once again to his bedroom.

Jenny stared back at him, stared until his gentle touch made her whimper. She kissed him back and her hearts raced. He had been there and he had seen what she had done and he still wanted her nonetheless. There was no reprimanding, no lectures about how killing infects you. Just gratitude.

Because she had done the right thing.

She smiled when he responded as a sigh of relief echoed through her body. Pain and pleasure and forgetting. Jenny stole a quick kiss and then took his hand.

"Okay," she answered as they crossed the hall towards his bedroom. "As long as I can forget. I don't want to remember. I don't like feeling guilty."

'Guilty?' The Master gave her a little faux pout as he pushed her up against the wall of his bedroom, letting her feel the comfort of his body pressed against hers. 'Don't ever feel guilty.' A quick, nibbling kiss, before he dipped down, mouthing wetly at her neck, mumbling against the skin. 'Guilt is a waste of emotion; it hinders you, impedes you, makes you- mmm- weak.'

Your father has always had a guilt complex, he doesn't say. Idiot feels like he has to take responsibility for every death that's ever occurred ever in all of history.

He didn't say as much, of course- not the wisest course of action to bring up the Doctor at the moment, after all. That would only make her think more on how killing those guards had been wrong, or morally corrupt, or whatever bollocks the Doctor had managed to instill in her. And even besides that, one's father was generally not the person one wanted to think about when pinned up against the wall with someone's tongue at your throat.

After a moment, he drew away, pulling Jenny away from the wall and pushing the leather jacket off her shoulders. Nodding at her to lift her arms, her shirt and bra soon followed, and he brushed soft fingertips over the curves and planes of her body, before turning her around, pushing her softly to lie back on the bed.

For a split second, that pout made Jenny feel guilty for feeling guilty. She had killed to save him and there's nothing to feel guilty about. After all, the Master could've died if not for her. And that would have been awful.

But then she's stuck between a wall and a hot mouth exploring the skin of her neck and she can't remember what the whole bother was to begin with? Maybe he was right. Guilt is a waste of emotion when there are so many better things she can be feeling.

Like lust. Jenny really likes lust.

"A goddess - oh - a goddess can't be weak, right? They were... the would die anyway, wouldn't they?"

Oh, oh that felt good. Her hearts began to beat faster and faster as she squirmed. Yeah, feeling guilty was a waste of her time. Dad... no. No thinking of Dad or what he would think of her if he saw her pinned up against a wall and wanting more. Maybe, just maybe, she should stop thinking about Dad all together.

"I won't," Jenny stated as he began to strip her and lead her to the bed. "Feeling guilty is a waste of my... my abilities, right? Please tell me I did the right thing, Master. Please?"

'Precisely,' the Master rumbled. 'They're insects in comparison to us, apes. Lives like mayflies.'

Following her onto the bed, he skated his hands up her thighs- and oh, that leather did do wonders for her- leaning down to suckle on one breast, taking the nipple into his mouth and tugging just slightly with his teeth. On his hands and knees above her, the Master smiled down at Jenny. 'You did a wonderful thing. Never think anything else. There's no shame in doing what you were born to.'

Smiling again, he kissed his way down her abdomen, biting at the leather of the hem of her trousers, before sliding off the bed entirely to take off her boots. Also leather, with a simple zip down the side, the teeth made a satisfyingly loud noise as he slowly undid it, pulling the boots off, and the trousers and knickers after. She was completely naked on the bed, and the Master, smiling there, still impeccable in his suit and tie, merely smiled.

"Lives like mayflies," she repeated in between whimpers. "Completely... completely insignificant, yeah?"

Because nothing could be more significant than the way his mouth felt on her breast, the way his teeth inflicted just the mildest stab of of pain - just enough to make her wet for more. Jenny nodded, watching him with wide and amazed eyes. Her father had rejected her inheritance an her Master... he embraced it with opened arms.

At that moment, Jenny wondered if this was what love felt like. All she wanted to do was please him and maybe earn his love in return. She smiled as she watched him undress her, smile brightening when she saw his own.

Giggling, "See something you like?"

That comment earned an indulgent smile from the Master; she had time yet to learn original pillow talk.

'Mmm, several things, in fact.' His smile turned a touch evil. 'Though you soon won't.'

Holding up a finger to silence any protest she might have, the Master crossed to a small, polished wooden bedside table, opening a drawer to pull out a long strip of black silk. Holding it up between his hands, he pulled it taut, the fabric making a satisfying snap. The Master allowed a moment for Jenny to process what the silk was for, before returning to the bed with a little smile.

'Up,' he coaxed, a hand at her shoulder, before swiftly tying the blindfold around her eyes, his fingers expertly knotting it at the back.

'Sensations,' he said, his voice returned to that almost schoolmasterly tone, 'can be heightened by a blindfold; your other senses compensate for the lack of sight; makes everything much more, hmm, intense.'

Confusion from his words outweighed the pride she felt from his response. He liked her body and oh how she loved that.

Jenny opened her mouth to question but was cut off by the upraised finger. With a small sigh and pout, she turned to watch him pull out a silk. Anticipation built up within her when he snapped it and she gasped. The surprise quickly faded into a smile and she obeyed his command without hesitation.

The silk felt lovely against her skin. She opened her eyes to blackness. It was nerve wracking and worrying, even with his comforting voice nearby. But she trusted him. She really did.

"It's..." Jenny hesitated, hands digging into the sheet. "I don't think I like not being able to see. It's so dark."

He smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone, soft and steady, much the same way one might gentle a skittish horse. 'Shh,' he soothed. 'It's strange at first, I know, but you'll become acclimated to the dark.' He brushed his lips across hers in a fleeting kiss, before leaning close to speak into her ear.

'You'll like it, I promise.'

Giving one last little stroke to her cheek, he pulled back, kissing absently down her sternum, before stepping away entirely, leaving her alone on the bed. When he spoke this time, his voice was soft, but it seemed somehow to ring in the confines of the bedroom.

'I'm going to hurt you, Jenny; I'm not going to tell you how or when, but I will hurt you. And, hmm, I rather think you'll enjoy it, won't you?'

She savoured the taste of his lips against hers, not wanting him to pull away as soon as he did. Perhaps the Master was right. Perhaps the lack of her sight made her neurons ever more the sensitive.

"Master," she whimpered when he whispered into her ear, the vibrations of his voice and the cool breath of air tickling and pleasuring and making her hair stand on end. "Please, Master."

It felt so, so good the way his mouth felt on her chest. And it felt so, so horrible when he left her alone on the bed.

"Mas-?" His words interrupted Jenny. Her eyes widened though she couldn't see anything but the darkness. She nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Yeah. I know I will."

'Mmm.'

The Master smiled a slow, dark smile at Jenny's eagerness, simply standing for a moment to watch her. Naked and spread out, black silk over her eyes, blonde hair splayed all over the duvet. Yes, he reflected, quite a good look for her, that was. But the poor girl was getting impatient, he could tell, so he crossed the room and pulled open another drawer.

There was the scratch-hiss and faint sulfurous smell of a match lighting as the Master lit a long, tapered candle. It was red, stereotypical though that was; the colour would look simply gorgeous against Jenny's skin, though, and so very like blood. Cupping the flame behind his hand for a moment, he looked over to the figure sprawled on the bed. Time for another lesson.

Pacing over, he seated himself on the bed next to her, stroking soft fingertips down her stomach. Just a moment to appreciate the softness of it, the clear definition of muscles under the skin, before he tilted the candle slightly. Moulten wax, dark red and shining liquid, dripped down into the indentation of her sternum, and the Master sighed pleasurably at her reaction. He made a soft, pleased noise, and bent down to lick over the tender pink skin around where the wax had now hardened, soothing the hurt with his tongue.

'Tell me,' he said softly, drawing back, 'how does that feel, mmm?' Another tilt of the candle, and this time, the wax splattered over the curve of one breast. Lovely.

The smell of sulfur was sharp in her nostrils and the breath she took was nearly a shudder. That had been a match, hadn't it? Was he going to burn her? Oh, how much would that hurt? Drowning in thoughts of anticipation and pleasure, Jenny had practically forgotten the events of the day. Dwelling on her guilt was definitely something not fit for a goddess. But being worshiped like this... this was.

"Oh, Master," she moaned when his fingers trailed down her stomach. The touch was like a burn itself, scorching pleasure through her body. But her mew of delight turned into a sharp hiss when something hot, truly hot, landed on her chest.

Jenny bit on her lip, hands digging deeper into the duvet. It stung and yet, as the burn subsided, she giggled a giggle that became a moan when he licked at the scorched spot. Her legs rubbed together of their own free will, making that ache within her all the more pleasurable.

And then his voice filled her ears and she smiled. "Brilliant. It feels-" The sentence cut off with a slight scream as the hot substance fell on far more sensitive flesh. "Oh... oh, it hurts! It hurts so horribly, Master."

But unlike the last time he had introduced pain to her, this lesson was fully greeted without reluctance. Jenny's voice held a begging quality to it; wanting, no, needing more. This was far from a punishment, wasn't it? This, what he was doing to her just now, this was a reward.

'Oh, I know.' His voice was dark and low, smooth and ever so pleased with himself.

More wax dripped down, from her sternum all the way down to her naval, a clean red line bisecting her stomach, flaming into pink on either side. It looked almost like she'd had a neat line sliced down her stomach, that the Master might be able to peel away the edges, tear her open and reach inside to rearrange her insides as he would.

Lazily, he picked off some of the hardened wax, flicking it aside and scraping fingernails over the faintly pink mark it had left. Her reaction was delicious, and the Master very nearly moaned. Carefully holding the candle, he leaned down once again and caught her in a filthy tongue kiss, pinning her head to the mattress for a moment or two with the force of it, before pulling away again. With no warning this time, he tipped the candle over her other breast, spilling not just a few drops, but all the reservoir of melted wax at the top of the candle. It spilt over her breast, an asymmetrical sunburst, covering all of her nipple, and coating much of the rest of her breast in dark red.

Sighing, the Master ran his fingers over it whilst it was still hot, tweaking the nipple, before reaching down to stroke teasingly in between her legs with fingers warm and smooth with wax.

The darkness of his voice made her squirm even more. She was pleasing him, wasn't she? The way she bit her lip when the wax fell on her body and tried not to whimper, loosing that battle with every drop. The blindfold had grown wet from tears of pain and a completely different wetness was still growing between her legs. Jenny wondered if she could ever get enough of this, or of pleasing him.

"I like - ah," she groaned as he scraped fingernails over a particularly sensitive patch of skin. Her body arched towards him slightly, but before she had a chance to ask him to do it again, her mouth was captured in an almost overwhelming kiss that stole her of all thoughts.

Jenny gasped for air when he was through, chest heaving and body shaking when the hot liquid splashed on to her other breast. This time, a scream did escape her lips as he played with her nipple, the neurons close to literally on fire.

"You're... you're right. Again," she moaned as her body bucked uncontrollably towards the hand between her legs. "It... oh, oh fuck... it is better like this, Master. So much... hurt me more? Please? I want to be rewarded for saving your life."

How delightful it was to hear her swear like that- the sweet, smiling girl, reduced to this by his hand. He always had enjoyed despoiling the bright and beautiful.

'Hmmm,' he chuckled low in his throat, two fingers stroking more firmly against the hot wetness of her cunt, sliding into her briefly and curling inwards. 'You do deserve a reward.'

Sliding out, he dealt a light slap to her sex, enjoying the way her body jerked, before once again tipping the candle, drizzling streams of red over the tender, quivering skin of her inner thighs. So, so close to her centre he went, but never quite there, watching in sadistic amusement as the muscles under the skin jumped and twitched, wanting attention from his hands and mouth instead of merely the burning wax.

Jenny nodded eagerly at his response, smiling brightly. She did, didn't she? Because in killing those men she had saved his life and that was the important part. Their lives were inconsequential in the span of the universe, especially in comparison to a god like her Master.

"I d-" she began, words cut off by a low groan when his fingers slipped inside of her. Oh, oh yes that was a reward. Jenny whispered his name before a new round of tears filled her eyes at the slap. Hips bucked again and more tears wet the silk blindfold as the wax fell so very close to her core.

It was close to maddening. She couldn't keep control of her body, feeling the jerks and squirms that he caused echo from her sex to her core and through out her body. Jenny bit down on her lip hard enough to taste blood, wishing she could see his face and the look of content she was certain was there.

Jenny was so open to him already he didn't even have to work to see into her mind. Just a look, not even anything that she'd be able to sense, but oh, he was pleased by what he saw. Yes, that was right; life was utter inconsequential. The means to an end, on occasion, but rarely anything more. And certainly nothing to get upset over.

Lovely though the wax did look on her skin, the Master was tiring of this exercise. He'd drawn things out for her last time, tortured her until she could stand no more. This time, he rather thought he'd show her how much fun things could be when brought to a quicker conclusion.

Emptying the candle onto her stomach, he blew it out and tossed it to the side, before ducking between her legs. No teasing this time; he pressed his mouth to her cunt, sliding his tongue into her, fucking her with it, flexing it inside her. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force as he licked at her, closing his lips around her clit and sucking, humming in the back of his throat as he mouthed unforgivingly at the wet heat of her flesh.

Jenny cried out when the remaining wax burned her stomach. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It hurt more than pleasured her, but almost as if he knew such, his mouth was at her folds. When Jenny cried out again seconds later, it was with overwhelming pleasure.

His hands dug into his skin to hold her in place, something so needed as she thrashed around him. She couldn't hold still, back arching, hips thrusting towards him, fingers curling into the mattress. The desire that had begun to build inside of her from the foreplay was was beginning to crescendo. That ache was back, oh so lovely and intense.

"Master," she cried as he sucked at her clit. He was killing her and Jenny couldn't ask for a better way to die. "Fuck. Fuck me. Please? Please, please, please."

The Master groaned against her, but did not grant her request. Despite the low build of arousal that had been growing in his belly, and was currently pressing rather insistently against the seam of his trousers, he was nowhere near as desperate as her. She would come now, from his mouth on her and nothing else, and she would do so because he pleased.

So he only intensified his assault, giving her no chance to recover, to draw breath or hold herself back. He hummed against her, knowing how the vibrations would feel spreading up through her abdomen, licking and sucking and lapping at the heated flesh until he could feel the muscles of her cunt clenching with every touch of his tongue.

Go on, he murmured in her mind, stroking mental fingers over one of those pleasure centres, just to make things even more unbearable, No point in resisting, my dear.