By popular demand, Sam gets to make her case as well. But will Shepard prove equally stubborn? Hope you like it.


Samantha Traynor gave the knots a final tug, making certain that they were secure before stepping back to admire her handiwork. A week ago when Shepard demanded to know if she'd ever been fucked like that in a Starfleet uniform, it had gotten her thinking, and while technically, she might not have been the one wearing it right then, someone was definitely going to get fucked. Looking at the great Commander Shepard, her hands and feet bound to one of their dinning room chairs, ready for Sam to do anything she wanted with her, the communications specialist could already feel her arousal building.

Starring hungrily at Samantha, Shepard couldn't keep a grin off her lips. While the fake pointed ears may have looked a bit silly to the Spectre, combined with the uniform, they gave a her lover a quality both alien and alluring. A half red, half beige top, a pleasingly short skirt, and thigh-high leather boots: though it wasn't always easy for the commander to play the sub, this promised to be fun.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?", she asked, and a smile crossed the specialist's face as she nodded.

"Lt. Shepard," she snapped, giggling internally at having just demoted her lover, "You have been found in the territory of the Romulan Star Empire, your ship having illegally violated the neutral zone." It was really hard to keep from smirking. Sam had never realized until now quite how dirty that phrase sounded.

"What's your point, Sub-Commander Traynor?", Shepard growled defiantly. She had no intention of making this easy for her girlfriend.

"My point," Sam said coldly, "Is that you belong to the Empire now. And there is information that we require from you."

"I won't betray Starfleet," Shepard insisted, though she added to herself, "Not unless you give me a particularly good reason to."

"So you say. For now, we'll start with something easy." She stepped closer to the Spectre, letting Shepard breath in her scent. "We need to know what the finest example of your late 20th century science fiction was." Though she hadn't revealed this particular detail of the game in advance, Sam was relishing the chance to use her current position to win the argument that had been raging for the last week.

"Why would you need to know that?", Shepard asked suspiciously. If Sam wanted to play cute with this, she was up for it too.

Damn it, Sam cursed to herself. Why would she ask that? She took a breath. When in doubt, cheat. She slapped Shepard across the face. "That is the business of the Empire. I only require your answer."

Shepard laughed. "I've been hit harder then that on shore leave." When they first experimented with this, Sam had been mortified by the thought of slapping her, but Shepard explained that for someone who'd once been shot by Harbinger, it was just a love tap. "But since it's such an obvious question, I'd be happy to answer. It was Star Wars."

"Incorrect," Sam snapped, hitting her lover again. "We know that is not the truth."

"Well, if all you've got for me is a little slap and tickle, then all you're going to get is Star Wars."

"I see," Sam said, practically gleeful at the plan taking shape in her mind. "Other Starfleet officers have also proven resistant to that particular form of interrogation in the past. But they all still talked in the end. As you will see, I can be quite persuasive."

She bent down and started running her hands over Shepard's bare knees. "I find your Federation to be most intriguing. Most of the time, it pretends that it is morally superior to everyone else." Her hands made their way up past the knees, caressing her lover's strong thighs. "And yet, it dresses its female officers like this."

Shepard had to agree. What kind of a military had its women wear these ridiculous mini-dresses? Right now, though, she wasn't going to complain, sighing happily as Sam's warm hands rubbed her skin, slowly pushing back the red fabric. The specialist stopped well short of the best parts though, instead bending further over, her breath hot on Shepard's ear, her clothed breasts tantalizingly close to the Spectre's face. "Have I hit a nerve?"

Shepard didn't reply, so Sam pushed aside her red hair and ran her tongue slowly over the outer edge of her ear, eliciting a low moan from her lover. "You have all those silly rules about fraternization, and then you walk around in these outfits, teasing each other with what you're not allowed to have." She and Shepard had broken a few such rules themselves during the war, but sod it, the world had been about to end anyway.

"Those rules are there to ensure, ah, good discipline," Shepard managed to get out as Sam's fingers glided down the curve of her neck before running along her bare collarbone.

"Good discipline?", the specialist asked incredulously. "All that denial does is leave you panting and desperate, easy prey for someone without your ridiculous hang-ups." She returned one of her hands between Shepard's legs, this time completing her journey. Sam ran her fingers lightly over Shepard's clothed sex, and raised an eyebrow when she brushed against a thin bit of silky black fabric. "Are you going to try and tell me those are regulation?"

"No, they're all me," Shepard admitted, eager for Sam to increase the pressure on her and hopeful that the truth would encourage her to do so. Instead, she got only a single electric stroke of her lover's hand before the specialist withdrew it.

"Ready to give me the information I need?", Sam asked coyly, her fingers lazily stroking Shepard's neck, enjoying the goose bumps she raised on the bare flesh there.

"Star Wars," was all the Spectre replied. Her clit may have been throbbing, but she wasn't some horny teenager. Sam was going to have to work a lot harder than that to win their argument.

Fortunately, the specialist seemed up to the challenge. Her hand snaked beneath the low-cut mini-dress, cupping one of Shepard's firm, pale breasts in her hand. The pink nipple poked rock hard against her palm and Sam rubbed slow circles over it, teasing Shepard with her touch. Her lover's breathing grew sharper, her craving for more evident, but Sam removed her hand, leaving the Spectre's other, straining nipple, intensely frustrated at the lack of attention.

Sam smirked at the sight of Shepard pushing against the ropes. There was no way she could make a toughed Spectre beg by going hard at her. A softer touch on the other hand… Well, she had her hopes. Stretching seductively, she walked across the room and took a seat in a chair opposite her lover. "I see you're going to make this difficult, Lieutenant. That's fine; we have all night for you to see the error of your ways."

Keeping her brown eyes locked with Shepard's green ones, she slowly unbuttoned her uniform jacket, revealing her red bra underneath, her hands running over her smooth, brown stomach. Teasing the beautiful Spectre had lit a fire in her own body, and she could use some release before she continued, release that Shepard wouldn't share until she played nice.

Shepard swallowed hard as she watched Sam unhook her bra and let it fall to the ground. Her dark brown nipples were hard beneath it, and Traynor brought her thumbs up to them, stroking the tips slowly. Samantha purred with obvious satisfaction as she began to touch herself and a "Fuck," slipped out of Shepard's mouth. The communications specialist was far from innocent, but she did look it, and the contrast between that adorable appearance and the sight of her pleasuring herself was intoxicating.

Watching with delight as Shepard fought a losing battle to keep her arousal off of her face, Samantha unfastened her skirt and reached her hand down, moving it underneath her red, lacey underwear. She slid her fingers over her entrance, finding it unsurprisingly wet. The intensity in Shepard's gaze, the strain in her breath, the knowledge of what she desperately wanted to be doing to and for and with Samantha: all of it was a fierce turn-on for the faux Romulan.

Sam slipped inside herself, coating her digits in her own slickness before pressing them up against her clit. She shuddered with pleasure, letting out an exaggerated moan for Shepard's benefit.

In grave danger of choking on her own saliva, Shepard strained against the ropes holding her to the chair. Although unable to see what was going on, she could just picture Sam's hand caressing her swollen sex, and she desperately wanted those fingers to be touching her instead. She tried to squeeze her thighs together to get herself some measure of relief, but the ropes around her legs wouldn't let her do it. The slight friction she achieved only made her crazier, and from the devilish look in Traynor's eyes, her lover was enjoying every second of her suffering.

Sam finished sliding her skirt off of her hips along with her panties in order to give her bound lover a better view of what she was doing. She kept her strokes slow and deliberate, keeping her own pleasure under control even as she tried to drive Shepard crazy. "Enjoying the show?", she asked in a low whisper, bringing two fingers up to her lips to moisten them before caressing her clit once more.

Shepard didn't reply, unable to trust her own reactions, and Sam continued, "This could be you, you know. Give me the intelligence I need, and I'll be happy to take care of that desperate ache I know is building up inside of you. You'd like that wouldn't you my hot little Starfleet trollop? You'd like me to crawl between your legs, push up that short skirt, pull aside your panties and run my tongue all over your clit."

When her lover's eyes bulged wider, Sam knew she should keep going. "Or maybe that's not to your taste. Maybe," she offered, slowly pushing open the tight ring of muscle at her entrance and probing into herself, "You'd rather I fucked you. You'd rather feel my fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking you as you pulsed around me."

Shepard felt like she was going to explode with desire, and despite her best efforts, the word "Yes," forced its way out from between her lips. "Jesus fucking Christ yes!"

Hearing the desperation in Shepard's voice was too much for Sam. Pressing her palm against the head of her clit, she came hard, a sharp gasp of her own accompanying her orgasm. Watching Sam's thighs clench around her hand, her body shaking with pleasure, Shepard's cybernetically enhanced muscles almost snapped the arms of the chair clean off. Summoning every ounce of her iron will, she took a deep breath to settle herself down and focus on what she had to do, but though she managed to take the edge off of her craving, she was still half-crazed with desire, uncertain of how much longer she could hold out.

When her shudders ceased, Sam got back to her feet, shrugging off the remains of her uniform and leaving herself clad in only her high leather boots. Walking back over to Shepard, she let out a satisfied sigh, emphasizing that relief that could be Shepard's if she would just behave. "I am glad to hear some honesty out of you at last," she declared. "I think that deserves a small reward."

Kneeling down, Sam reached up between Shepard's legs and slid her panties off of her. They were soaked with her arousal, and Sam grinned mischievously. "I see you were being truthful." She pushed the hem of the mini-dress up to Shepard's waist, allowing her easier access, and she started planning kisses on the tops of her captive's thighs.

As welcome as she could tell the contact was, in her needy state, her lover needed more, and Sam leaned down and placed a single wet kiss on the shaft of Shepard's throbbing clit. The Spectre let out a sharp cry of pleasure and Sam could tell how close to the edge her little show had pushed her lover, how easy it would be for her to send the commander over.

But not quite yet. Not until she got what she wanted. Sam stood up, but she replaced her mouth with her hand, letting her fingers rest lightly on Shepard's clit, a promise of more pleasure if she complied. "So, to return to the question at hand," she said calmly, as if her digits were not ever so lightly caressing her lover's bud, "What is the best example of late 20th century Earth science fiction?"

Shepard looked up at her, desperation clear in her green eyes. "Star…", she gasped.

"Yes, my dear?", Sam asked. She could hear the ragged edge in Shepard's voice. She was certain she had her.

Just a little longer. "Star Wars." It took every ounce of discipline she could find, but Shepard managed to say the words, even knowing what would come next.

Gah! Sam growled with frustration and pulled her fingers off of Shepard, stomping away from her lover. Tapping her heel with frustration on the floor as she waited for a change of heart, she snorted, "Just how long do you think you can hold out, you damn Federation tramp?"

"Long enough."

The words sounded strong and confidant, and Sam swallowed hard before turning slowly around. Somehow, Shepard had gotten free of the ropes and now her lover was standing directly behind her, a look of unparalleled hunger on her face. Sam shivered as Shepard grabbed her, pulling her naked body into her arms for a ferocious kiss.

A tongue slid past her lips, and despite her urge to complain that Shepard was breaking the rules, Samantha rapidly found herself swept away in the sheer passion of her lover's embrace. A strong hand massaged her breast and she heard herself moaning into Shepard's mouth. Despite the fun she had had putting on that show for her girlfriend, she was too turned on for it to have sated her fully and she was desperate for the pleasure that she knew Shepard could give her.

Satisfied that Sam was enjoying her turning of the tables, Shepard interlaced their legs, grinding her aching clit against her lover's skin even as she pushed her own thigh against the specialist's damp sex. It had taken some doing to get free of the ropes, particularly without Sam noticing, but her infiltrator training served her well, and the specialist had been good enough to distract herself a few times.

Feeling Sam wet against her leg, Shepard couldn't stop herself from doing more, dropping two fingers down to penetrate her lover. Sam whimpered, "How?", and Shepard growled, "Never underestimate Starfleet training. And now," she added with a hint of menace, "I think you have some promises to make good on."

Unwilling to risk doing anything that might cause Shepard to stop her thrusts inside her, Samantha hastened to reciprocate. Her fingers went to her lover's clit and Shepard pressed forward, trapping the digits between their bodies. Her movements against the specialist's body were frantic, and feeling the desperate need to come she had instilled in her lover alleviated some of Sam's disappointment at failing to make Shepard concede their argument.

In truth, Shepard had been minutes away from giving up and telling Sam what she wanted to hear, and now she was almost past the point of rational thought. The specialist's small hand stroking her needy, throbbing clit felt so unbelievably good and she knew she couldn't last long. Pressing her clothed breasts against Sam's bare ones, she sped up the pace of her thrusts, and as she felt Sam's inner walls pulse around her fingers, she realized that she wouldn't need to.

Samantha buried her head in the Spectre's shoulder, letting out a series of short, sharp cries as she was taken. As much as she'd enjoyed toying with Shepard, the raw lust that she had unleashed thrilled her even more. When her lover's fingers dragged along a particularly sensitive spot on her inner wall, Sam bit down, her teeth sinking into the tight muscles of her shoulder, and her fingertips pushed hard on the Spectre's clit.

The extra pressure on her was too much for Shepard's thoroughly teased body, and she screamed, letting loose an orgasmic cry that practically deafened Sam. Shepard's strong fingers gripped her back, pulling her closer, and Traynor slumped into her girlfriend, her climax overwhelming her as her inner muscles pulsed around the fingers thrusting deep inside of her.

As desperately needed relief flooded through her body, Shepard's legs started to give out and rather than fight it, she pulled Sam down with her onto the thick carpeting beneath them. The two lovers collapsed in a heap of sweaty arms and legs, holding each other tightly as they rode the waves of their pleasure together.

Lying panting in Shepard's arms, Sam's brain started to reassert itself enough for her to remember that she should be annoyed. "That may have been bloody wonderful," she protested weakly, nipping at the Spectre's throat, "But it was also cheating."

"Oh was it?", Shepard laughed, stroking her hand through Sam's black hair.

"Absolutely," Sam insisted. "You know damn well that I was supposed to be the Romulan interrogator and you were supposed to be the Starfleet prisoner."

"Well, then," Shepard teased, planting a kiss on her lips, "I guess you don't know your Star Trek very well." Sam started to sputter out an angry response to that grave insult, but Shepard cut her off. "After all," she pointed out, "Doesn't the Starfleet officer always escape?"

Sam slumped into Shepard's embrace. Though the frustrated competitor in her wanted to complain further, her inner nerd knew that the Spectre was absolutely right. She should have seen that move coming. With acceptance came peace, however, and she returned Shepard's kiss. "Come on," she smiled. "Let's get me out of these boots and go to bed." While their argument may have been destined to remain a draw, that didn't mean they both couldn't win at other things.