Dylan Shepard leaned against the shower wall as the near-scalding water coursed over her body, washing away the last of the sweat and grime of combat. There had been a couple of near misses today, and she stretched luxuriously under the spray as the aftermath of the adrenaline left her system. With a reluctant sigh, she shut off the shower, knowing that she had several after action reports to get to. She toweled off quickly, then wrapped the thick towel around her and stepped into the main compartment of her cabin.
She stopped short at the sight in front of her, even as door to the head slid shut behind her. She felt her face break into a grin; she couldn't help it. Both Miranda and Liara stood in the middle of the cabin, just in front of her bed, arms crossed pointedly. She wondered if she had somehow forgotten they had plans tonight, but that seemed awfully unlikely.
"Uh, sexy times tonight, but no one sent me a memo?" she tried, when neither of them spoke for several long moments. Miranda snorted. Liara just gazed at her, blue eyes unreadable.
"It's my birthday?" Dylan tried again. Both women seemed to ignore this.
"Scuttlebutt says you played quite the hero out there today," Miranda said coolly.
"That's me," Shepard quipped, "humanity's hero, savior of the galaxy, at your service." Shepard grinned her most disarming smile at her lovers. Neither woman softened in the slightest. If anything, they looked even more annoyed.
"Is that what you were doing when you left cover to charge the as yet unsecured vehicle without your backup?" Liara asked, her eyes boring into Dylan.
"Ah," Dylan replied, rubbing the back of her neck a bit sheepishly. "You heard about that, did you?"
"We did," Liara answered calmly.
"Well, we all know my job has inherent risks." Neither woman replied; Miranda arched a perfect eyebrow. "As Commander, it's important that I….you know, lead my troops." Dylan struggled to find her normal sense of composure and confidence, but the impassive stares of her lovers unnerved her.
"Your job does have inherent risks," Liara said quietly. "But you must know how deeply we care about you. How devastated we would be if anything ever happened to you."
"Of course. But…I can't allow personal feelings to override my command judgment." There. That sounded good. They couldn't interfere with her command.
"Really, Shepard? Because it seems to me that's exactly what you did." Miranda, her voice sharp now.
"What do you mean?" Dylan eyed the other woman warily.
"Seems to me you let your excitement carry you into a dangerous position. It seems to me that your 'personal' exhilaration put your command at risk."
"I didn't put any of my people in danger!" Dylan snapped.
"No? What would have happened to them if you'd been hurt, or taken prisoner? What would you do if I went charging out of cover for no reason?" Miranda asked.
"I'd kick your ass up one side and down the other!" Dylan replied immediately, then flushed as Miranda and Liara looked at her pointedly.
"The point is, I'm the commanding officer. Much as I love you both, and I do, I can't let you influence my command decisions," Shepard tried again, fidgeting anxiously with her towel and trying to look calm and in control.
"No," Liara agreed, her voice steady and calm. "But you can be accountable for them." There was a long silence as Dylan eyed her lovers warily again.
"Accountable how?" she asked finally.
"We both know you can't allow yourself to be influenced in your command decisions. You can't – and we don't want you to – turn those decisions over to us," Liara explained.
"But you can bloody well answer for them!" Miranda interrupted, and for the first time, Dylan saw genuine anger in Miranda's eyes, and something else as well. Fear, she realized with a sinking sensation in her stomach. Miranda was afraid. Afraid of losing her.
"W-What did you have in mind?"
"This," Liara said simply, picking up a long, slender object that had been behind them on the bed. Dylan stepped forward to get a closer look, adjusting the towel around her to keep it closed. The object Liara showed her looked like a piece of flexible synthetic rope with a handle at one end.
"And what, exactly, is that?" she asked.
"Something I picked up on Omega," Liara answered casually, and Shepard raised both eyebrows at her.
"Omega? As in, Afterlife?"
"The same. This," Liara held the device up, gestured to the flexible whip-like tail, "is the business end. Don't worry, Dylan, it won't cause any permanent damage."
"No permanent damage?" Dylan repeated faintly, eyes fixed on the instrument as Liara ran it through light blue fingers.
"Of course not." Miranda's sharp voice caught Dylan's attention immediately. "After all the work I did perfecting your body, do you really think I'd do anything to damage it? The current that runs through here will hurt like the very fires of hell, however. And it's likely to leave welts. You'll be…sore for a couple of days.
"Sore," Dylan repeated, apparently incapable of intelligent speech.
"Yes, sore," Miranda retorted, impatient, her anger flaring again. Liara hushed her with a gesture and stepped toward Shepard, dropped the device on the bed.
"Dylan," she said softly, running her fingers down Dylan's forearm. "You scared us. You took a foolhardy risk with something that is precious to us." Miranda took her cue from Liara's softer approach, stepping up to Dylan's other side and taking her hand.
"Your job is risky. So damned risky," Miranda's voice was low, and as Shepard heard the huskiness of threatening tears in it she felt her will dissolving. "When you put yourself in even more danger, unnecessarily…" the brunette shivered as though something cold passed through her. "I can't lose you, Shepard."
"I'm sorry," Dylan murmured, dropping her gaze. "I really am."
"Good," Liara said simply.
"Then you won't mind doing penance. They say it's good for the soul," Miranda added.
"Confession is good for the soul," Dylan corrected.
"Whatever." Miranda shrugged, a glint of amusement in her eye.
"Look, I said I was sorry. I'll be more careful, okay? I just…I just didn't think. But I will, in the future…" Shepard's voice trailed off. Both of her lovers were shaking their heads firmly, and she frowned at their unusual accord.
"Oh no, Shepard. We know you too well. You are a very concrete person. You need tangible consequences for your actions," Miranda said.
"And a taste of the pain we felt at the thought of losing you," Liara added, her voice still soft. Dylan saw that pain and fear in both of their eyes, and her shoulders sagged slightly.
"All right," she said. "What do you want me to do?"
Liara and Miranda smiled, and Dylan suppressed a shudder.
"For starters, you can lose the towel," Miranda said firmly. Shepard hesitated, then shrugged a little and let the towel drop from her body and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She stood nude in front of her lovers, feeling unusually self-conscious. She reminded herself she'd been unclothed in front of them both innumerable times before, but usually they were in various states of undress as well. This was different. She fidgeted, trying to figure out what to do with her arms, while Miranda gazed at her. Liara turned to the bed, piling the pillows in the middle.
"Lay over the pillows," Liara instructed, and Shepard obeyed quickly, glad to not be standing in the middle of the room anymore. She immediately realized that this position placed her backside in a very elevated and vulnerable position. She shivered a little, feeling the cool air of her cabin play over her still warm, damp skin.
Miranda stretched herself out along the head of Dylan's bed, her blue eyes on Dylan's face. She took Dylan's hands in her own, and Dylan was comforted for a moment until she realized Miranda was actually restraining her. The realization must have shown on her face, because Miranda smirked at her a little.
"Don't want you trying to protect yourself. You could get hurt." Shepard glared at her, to no affect. She heard the rustle of Liara moving behind her and fought the urge to look over her shoulder at the Asari. A moment later, she felt Liara's cool fingers trail down her back, her ass, her thigh.
"Mmm." Dylan couldn't help the murmur of pleasure that escaped her at Liara's touch, even as her stomach clenched with anxiety at her vulnerable position.
"I love you, Dylan," Liara said softly.
"I know, Liara. I love you, too."
"Our time together is already so short, Dylan. The idea that you would carelessly risk even the brief time we have together…" her voice hardened. "It infuriates me."
"I'm sorry, Liara," Dylan began nervously, unaccustomed to hearing such an unyielding tone from her Asari lover.
"You will be." Liara cut her off, and before Dylan could say anything else, she felt the whip crack across her upturned backside, leaving a line of what felt like pure fire in its wake.
"Oh!" Dylan exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise. She saw Miranda smirk again, but had no chance to take offense: Liara lashed her again. And again. Dylan bucked. Miranda had been right – it felt like the fires of hell themselves were waging a war on her ass. Miranda tightened her grip on Shepard's forearms, keeping her in place.
"Be still, love," she murmured, her voice surprisingly tender. Again and again the whip fell, and Shepard buried her head in her arms, trying to block out the pain. She'd been punched before, shot with a pistol, sustained multiple cracked ribs. This didn't hurt as badly, but it did hurt, and worst of all, every fiery stroke seemed to burn her lover's disapproval of her actions into her very heart. And that stung terribly; far more than she would have imagined.
"Ow!" Dylan yelped, as the lines began to cross over each other. "Ow, please, Liara!"
"You could have been killed," Miranda said, running her hands up and down Shepard's arms soothingly, even as the lash continued to fall. Shepard looked up at her and was surprised to see tears in Miranda's eyes.
"I'm – OW! – I'm sorry!" Dylan yelped, her feet drumming uselessly on the bed. Finally, Liara stopped, and Dylan breathed heavily, fighting tears.
"My turn," Miranda said, squeezing Dylan's arms before pushing herself gracefully off the bed. Dylan's eyes widened again.
"M-More?" she stammered.
"Of course. You didn't think I was going to make Liara do all the work, did you? That was just the warm up. I'm going to increase the settings here, and see if we can really leave an impression." Liara took Miranda's place at the head of the bed, and stroked an errant strand of auburn hair from Dylan's eyes.
"But, I can't…" Dylan protested weakly.
"Hush, love," Miranda said, and the lash fell again. Shepard cried out at once, raising her head of the bed, trying to pull her arms from Liara's surprisingly firm grip, desperate to escape the lash. Miranda ignored her futile attempts and continued raining down agonizing blows.
"Ow! Please, Miri, no more! Please!" Shepard begged, tears filling her eyes at the unrelenting onslaught.
"Shhh," Liara murmured, stroking Dylan's face. "Shh. Look at me, beloved," she commanded. Shepard met her eyes, and almost immediately, they filled with blackness.
Shepard gasped as she felt their minds connect, joining, merging. She could sense it as Liara felt the pain of the lash through the connection, and the Asari winced internally but did not draw away from the pain.
And then Dylan felt something else. For a long, endless moment, she felt Liara's paralyzing pain and fear at the thought of losing her. She felt it wrench her gut, taking away her breath and leaving a hole that nothing could ever begin to fill. The raw, terrified pain coming from her lover undid her. She came back to herself and a sob caught in her throat, tears slipping down her cheeks. She sagged, no longer resisting the painful strokes, but welcoming them as her just due.
"S-Sorry," she whimpered. "So sorry." The lash fell once more, then stopped. Dylan wanted to weep anew as the punishment ended.
"Easy, beloved, it's over. It's all over, now," Liara said gently, stroking her ceaselessly. Still crying, Dylan felt the bed shift as Miranda crawled onto it next to her and tugged Dylan onto her side, pulling her so she was tucked against the brunette. Dylan felt a fresh wave of pain as her raw backside rubbed against Miranda, but then Miranda's arm was around her waist, holding her close. Liara lay in front of her, facing the two spooning women, and she wiped the tears from Dylan's face as the red head's crying finally eased.
Dylan felt Miranda's hand stroking her flank, and she took a couple of long, steadying breaths, growing languorous and drowsy.
"There now," Miranda murmured in her ear. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Dylan allowed her eyes to drift shut, Liara's blue features blurring in front of her. "Remind me never to piss the two of you off again."
It was several days before Dylan was preparing for another operations mission. She had, indeed, been quite sore for most of that time. This had led her to many distracting revenge fantasies about her lovers, including her favorite, of a disheveled Miranda Lawson scrubbing the deck with a toothbrush on all fours. If she was being honest with herself, this fantasy was appealing for far more reasons than just vengeance.
The truth was, she could have easily piled petty makework, humiliating and tedious on both women. They were subject to her orders, and she knew them well enough to know that neither would argue or even, likely, begrudge her reestablishing her authority (well, okay, Miranda would likely have something to say about that particular fantasy). But Shepard realized another truth. She didn't need to reestablish her authority.
True, Liara was a bit more accommodating than usual. And Miranda had barely suppressed a snort of laughter when Dylan plopped onto a chair – then promptly sprang back up – the morning after her whipping, but it was clear that as far as they were concerned, there was no question as to Shepard's authority on ship. They would accept and carry out her orders as always. But if those orders or actions placed her at risk unnecessarily, she would answer to them for it – in private. It was an arrangement she found she was comfortable with – mostly.
Today was not a comfortable day. She was in combat gear for the first time since they'd introduced her to that vicious toy, and found that the skin tight material and gear continuously rubbed her still sore backside very uncomfortably as she, Miranda, Liara and Garrus rode the shuttle to the planet's surface.
"All right, people," she said, studying the map on her omni-tool. "Garrus and I will take this bunker here in a frontal attack. You two flank them from the west once we've drawn their fire." Her three squadmates nodded in affirmation, but Shepard paused, considering. They could do a strafing run first from the air, instead of her and Garrus charging straight in. There were no non-combatants or valuable equipment in the shelter. She met Miranda's eyes, and Miranda gazed back at her, impassive. She looked at Liara, but the Asari's face gave nothing away. They really weren't going to try to influence her.
"Scratch that. Let's try a strafing run first. Soften them up a bit." She squirmed and attempted to hide a wince.
"Problem, Shepard?" Miranda asked, observant as always. She and Liara shared a brief, pleased glance. Shepard clenched her jaw.
"Not at all, Miss Lawson. Double check the entry coordinates once more, please."
"Of course, Commander," Miranda replied, her voice revealing nothing as she turned to her instruments, a very satisfied gleam hovering in her eyes.