-PURGATORY-: Il Dottore X Male Reader, GORE & SMUT

RW:[1] - Warmth of Flesh.

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??? 
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You feel yourself slowly regaining consciousness. 
Your eyes flutter open, only to realize that you're blindfolded.

Sitting on cold, hard floor, you're leaning against a wall, wearing nothing but a loose shirt.
The sharp sting of metal digging into your wrists and ankles tells you you're restrained... handcuffs, tight enough to bite into your skin.
The air is frigid.
The floor beneath you feels like ice, and as you tilt your head the faint glow of light tries to pierce through the fabric covering your eyes.

"Mmmph-," you try to groan, but your mouth is gagged, preventing any words from forming.

You hold still, senses straining to catch any sound, any hint of where you are... then, you hear it. 
A voice. Someone's moaning, their breaths uneven and desperate.
The sound is strained, weak, like they’re barely holding on. Maybe crying.
Their gasps are ragged, every exhale filled with pain and fear, as if they’re choking on their own dread.

The clanking of metal echoes in the distance, followed by a wet, shaky moan as something is pulled from their mouth. Their gasping breaths become frantic, sharp with panic.

"W...Why... wha...h...GAAAAAAHHHH!?" The scream that follows is blood-curdling, piercing the air and making your own body lock up in terror.
It’s the sound of pure agony, a cry so primal that your heart starts hammering against your ribs.

"Ugh, so noisy..." A deep voice murmurs, indifferent, as though the scream was nothing more than an annoyance.

The broken voice sobs, words barely forming through the pain. "Haah...haa- aahh... it... it hurts... haah... please...no more...please..."

You try to make sense of what's happening. Either someone is being mutilated beyond recognition or fucked wildly.

The room falls silent again, save for their pitiful begging. You can’t see what’s happening, but the smell hits you next... thick and metallic, a tang of blood heavy in the air.
You strain your ears, hearing a wet, sickening noise you can’t quite identify.

The broken voice sobs, words barely forming through the pain. "Haah...haa- aahh... it... it hurts... haah... please...no more...please..."

Oddly, you find yourself smiling. Their suffering, their desperate cries... they stir something in you. Excitement. Lust. It's... turning you on.

Your body betrays you, heat pooling where there shouldn’t be. You press your thighs together, trying to contain it, but you can’t help the way your breath hitches. You can’t help but listen closely to the squelching sounds, the moans, the desperate fight for life just feet away from you with need.

The sound of footsteps inches towards you.
The door creaks open, and with it, the faint whimpering grows quieter, like a dying fire burning down to embers. You can hear the struggle fading, turning to weak gasps for air.
The smell of blood is thicker now.

You shift, trying to maneuver the blindfold off with your knees. After a few attempts, the fabric slides away, and you blink rapidly, your eyes unaccustomed to the harsh light. Everything is blurry for a moment, but soon, a figure steps into focus.

Il Dottore. The Doctor.

He crouches in front of you, his mask unmistakable, and a grin spreads across his face. 
"Good morning~," he singsongs, his voice dripping with unsettling warmth as he leans down to unfasten the gag from your mouth. You gag, gasping for air as it’s removed, a string of saliva still clinging to the metal.