"So, where is this bloody bitch's office?", Zaeed grumbled as the freight elevator lurched its way towards the upper levels of the station, the sounds it made not inspiring much confidence in its safety.

"Not far," Gradian reassured him. "Ilara just likes to stay out of the scrum. She's a little more high end than most of those trash dealers down on the trading floor."

As the lift ground to a stop, Ashley tried to swallow down her anger once more. A part of her just wanted to cold-cock this turian and storm the office, but without any real idea of what awaited them, it was too risky. For all she knew, this asari wasn't even the one they needed to talk to and that meant it wasn't yet time to blow their cover.

A short stroll down a poorly lit corridor brought them to their destination at last. The room they were approaching seemed to have actually been an office when this was a working asteroid mine, a plain metal desk in its center and stacks of filing boxes strewn about the floor testifying as to its former function. The décor was not, however, what Ashley noticed first. There were not one but two krogan guards standing outside the room, brutes perhaps not quite as large as Wrex, but big enough, with solid armor and nasty-looking shotguns that they trained warily on the new arrivals.

In spite of their weapons, though, it was still the asari that drew her eye. Aria T'Loak may have looked menacing, but this woman was positively predatory. Clad in black leather and tightly fitted body armor, the dark-skinned asari resembled nothing so much as a panther looking at a wounded animal, radiating a sleek menace that was somehow far more frightening than the crude muscle of the krogan.

As their little group entered the room, the two guards parted to let them pass while their mistress sauntered up to turian, running a hand over his mandible as if she were stroking a favored pet. "Gradian," she purred, her husky voice sounding like whiskey and sex and danger all rolled into one, "So nice of you to come and see me again. I see you've brought friends. Introduce us."

Ashley could see the turian swallow, even the hardened warrior apparently put off his game by the woman. "Zaeed Massani," he said a bit too quickly. "An old mercenary buddy of mine. He had something I thought you might be interested in. Zaeed, this Ilara."

"Zaeed Massani." The named slid off of her tongue as if she was caressing it. "I've heard of you. An expert killer by all accounts."

"I handle my end," the mercenary said gruffly, moving straight past the small talk. "I've got something special here and I heard you're the person to see about moving that kind of merchandise."

"I might be," she agreed, "Depending on what you're selling. I do have standards after all." She looked Ashley up and down, as if the Spectre was a piece of meat to be devoured. "She does look intriguing, I must confess. What is she?"

"I'm not a thing, you fucking bitch," the Spectre protested, before being cut off by a smack to the back of head from Zaeed.

"She's Alliance. A wet-work operative. Bit of a mouth on her, but she's got a hell of a skill set. You might need to put a control chip in her till she learns some flaming manners, but I guarantee she's well worth the trouble."

"Those chips are salarian trash," one of the krogan growled. "They slow you down, and that's if the slaves don't fry their own brains fighting them."

"Oh don't worry," the asari purred, "I don't think a chip will be necessary." She glided over to Ashley, running a crooked finger under the marine's chin. "You'll behave for me, won't you, girl?"

Ashley spat in her face. It was what was expected of her as a defiant prisoner, but it was also a reaction to what she was feeling. Ilara's presence, her touch, were repulsive, and yet somehow also enticing in a sick way. It was like a perverse reflection of the surprising attraction she'd first felt towards Sha'ira three years ago, and the comparison had left the marine further on edge.

To her surprise, Ilara didn't seem angry, coolly wiping her cheek clean with a black gloved hand. "She has wonderful spirit," she declared. "I just might have to keep her for myself. The challenging ones are always the most satisfying in the end and it's been too long since I've had really good pet."

"Fine, whatever," Zaeed grumbled. "Make me an offer. By the way," he asked, trying his best to sound casual as he inquired into their real area of interest, "Can I get a bonus if I take some of the payment in trade? I might be in the market for something myself, at least if you've got anyone better than those bloody strays they're selling downstairs."

"Something can be arranged," Ilara agreed, "At least if she's as tasty as she looks." The asari pulled off a glove and her dark blue fingers ran almost tenderly over Ashley's cheek. Reflexively, the marine pulled back from the slave trader as she wondered just how far this little charade was going to have to go before they found the information they needed.

The answer was worse than she'd feared. As she looked into Ilara's eyes, unwilling to give her prospective buyer the satisfaction of turning away, the already-dark orbs turned jet black, and the marine felt a sudden pressure against her mind. This was not the sensual, mutually desired joining of thoughts and feelings that she had enjoyed with Sha'ira. This was a violation, the feeling of something forcing its way under skin, like a slim knife being slid underneath the plates of her armor and through her ribs.

Nor was it a sharing. It was a taking. She could see almost nothing of the asari's thoughts, but tendrils of Ilara's will pushed through her defenses, digging deep into her mind. Her past flashed by her in a blur, not whole memories, but bits of sense and impression. Once she got past the sense of invasion though, the reliving was oddly pleasant, as in the midst of the hell she was in, she recalled…

The taste of her mother's Christmas cake, gooey, and chocolate-y and still warm from the oven, sliding down her throat as around her, her sisters clamored for their pieces…

…The sound of her father's voice, gravelly and strong, reading to her from one of the books of poetry he loved, a solid rock that she could count on….

…The pleasant tingling between her legs as she lay on the bed, looking down at the lovely, nude form of Sha'ira, the asari's head leaning back into her chest as she purred happily…

…The crack of her skull against the bulk of the crashed shuttle, pain exploding through her head as she struggled in vain against the vice of Doctor Eva's grip….

… Suddenly, horribly, the daydreams of the past faded into agony like she had never felt before. She opened her mouth to scream, but her body refused to comply, and Ashley realized that it wasn't just the pain of the past she was feeling, but the agony of the present, as if somehow, the asari's mind was scorching hers. In a single, dreadful instant she realized what the woman was, but it was too late. There was nothing she could do to stop her, no way as she lost consciousness for her even to warn Zaeed that they were dealing with an Ardat-Yakshi.


Ashley awoke still screaming and only stopped when the raw agony in her throat made her realize that she must have been doing that for quite some time. Her head felt even worse than her throat, a throbbing mass with needles plunged into every nook and cranny, and it took what little concentration she could muster to even remember where she was, her mind filled instead with both new pain and old hurts that had been made shockingly fresh by the slaver's mental assault.

As her nightmares mercifully faded however, the Spectre rapidly came to the conclusion that reality was hardly better. The easily escaped binders she'd been wearing before had been replaced with a sturdier pair and her neck had a metal collar around it, fastened by a chain to a leaky pipe, the water dripping from it providing the only sound in the squalid room she was imprisoned in. It was a rusting, damp shithole, illuminated only by a glimmer of light from a dim bulb on the ceiling above her.

She blinked several times, and while her mind remained pained, at least she could now string a thought together, and her first one was of Zaeed. What the hell had happened to her back-up? Had he sold her out, or simply decided that discretion was the better part of valor in that circumstance, planning to return at some later time to rescue her?

She had no time to ponder that question however, as with a rusty screech, the door to her make-shift cell opened, revealing the asari who had attacked her earlier.

"Ah, lovely," Ilara smiled, creepily cheerful in spite of what had just passed between them. "You're awake. I was worried I might have drunk too deeply earlier. It's so easy to get carried away, especially with a delicious little morsel like you."

"Sorry to be so tempting," she rasped sardonically, the words still hard to get out of her raw throat.

"Don't be," the asari told her. "It's good practice for me. Self-control is a virtue after all."

"I thought," she responded, remembering what Shepard had told her after the mission to Lesuss, "That's why you're supposed to be in a monastery, not out here with all these temptations like me."

"Oh, I was," Ilara agreed, sounding oddly wistful. "I spent a lovely couple of centuries in one of them, praying and meditating in the vain hope of changing who I was. Deadly dull, I think you'd agree, and when I'd finally had enough and escaped, my loving keepers sent a Justicar to kill me. Thankfully, the Reapers were sweet enough to kill her first, leaving me free to experience life more fully."

As she said the final words, that sensual tone returned to her voice and once more, Ashley felt the pull of an insane desire to have that tongue do more than just speak to her. She remembered dimly hearing about the fascination these cursed asari were supposed to exert, and even now, she could feel it lurking behind those gorgeous, terrible eyes, trying to make her forget who the woman was and what she'd just done to Ashley. "Hell of a place you picked to experience it," she quipped, trying to use humor to cover how weak she felt in that moment.

"Oh, I agree with you," Ilara told her, "But we won't be here much longer. I just have a little business to finish up and then we'll be heading someplace far nicer."

"So, you're not planning on killing me?", the marine asked skeptically. Frankly, she was surprised that she wasn't dead already given who she was dealing with, but since she wasn't, she needed to figure out what the asari planned to do with her next.

Ilara moved closer to her, running her hand through the Spectre's dark hair affectionately. "Of course you'll die eventually," she purred, somehow able to make the prospect sound almost appealing. "But don't worry, it won't be for some time yet. Before I kill you, Ashley Williams, you're going to beg me for the pleasure."


Things don't seem to be going very well for our heroine, do they? Let me know what you think of these latest developments, and congrats to JrBenson, who guessed who/what the mystery slaver might be. (A popular theory was that she might actually be Sha'ira, which clearly was not the case)