-Miranda-

The chair she was tied to in Shepard's dungeon had grown uncomfortable. Not only because the ropes that wound around her wrists and ankles was chaffing her skin with every inch she shifted, but the hard back was poking into her shoulder blades, the seat felt stiff beneath her butt, and worse of all: she had to pee for the last hour. Her world was black beneath the blindfold the volus had tied over her eyes, and her lower face was wrapped with a dozen layers of duct tape, making communication an impossibility. Every once in awhile, she though she'd hear something and do her best to mumble out a cry for help, but none came.

Until, finally, Shepard's voice drifted over her shoulder, "Oh, that blue bitch did you in good, didn't she?"

"Mmmm," Miranda hummed, desperate to speak with Shepard, though she had no clue what the woman was talking about.

"Liara T'Soni wrapped your mouth up like that, Miranda," Shepard explained, and Miranda felt something cold press against her cheek and slid beneath the layered tape. "Apparently the little conniving bitch was trying to keep you and baldy out of the picture so she could have me to herself." The tape began to lift, but it was tangled in her hair, and every tug sent a painful jolt into her head. "Sorry. She's being punished right now... and probably will be for a long time. Though, I have to admit... her unwavering commitment to me is admirable. You could do with a little of that, Lawson."

The tape, after a long, painful, journey around her head, finally came away from her lips. "Oh, God. Thank you," she spoke, licking her lips and stretching her jaw. "Shepard, please let-"

"Commander."

Miranda nodded. "Yes, commander, would you please untie me from this chair. I've need to use the bathroom for some time now."

"Of course, Miranda," Shepard said with a laugh, pulling the blindfold from her eyes. "I'm not cruel you know."

"Thank you," Miranda said earnestly as the commander cut the ropes binding her to the chair, and soon enough she was free. "Thank you, commander."

"Come on," Shepard said and the woman reached behind her to a desk there and lifted a long, black, wiry-looking thing. Miranda was about to ask what it was, but then the commander was bringing it to her throat and hooking it to her collared neck. It was a leash. Shepard grinned and gave it a little tug, causing Miranda to take an unbalanced step forward. "Heel, girl," the commander said with a wink and began leading her down a hall.

Miranda, embarrassed but with little other choice, followed. The commander walked her down a long hall and up a flight of stairs, where they entered a small kitchen. Miranda was going to comment on how nice it was to try and make small talk and get on Shepard's good side, but thought better of it. Every time she did try to befriend the commander, Shepard called her on it. They were through the kitchen and into another, dark, hall – at the end of which was a flight of stairs. They wrapped up around the mansion to the second floor, and Miranda could see outside it had grown dark from the small, rectangle, of a window at the hall's end. On the second floor, a warm, red, carpet greeted her bare feet as Shepard walked her to a door and pushed it open. A light came on automatically as they entered, and Miranda found herself in a bathroom; bright lights shone down overhead, the floor and walls were decorated with red and gold panels, and a huge walk-in shower dominated the majority of the room, jutting out from the far corner. Shepard turned to her and pointed at a comparatively-modest toilet.

Miranda nodded her gratitude, went, tugged down her pants, and sat. She didn't expect Shepard to leave, or even look away, and the commander unsurprisingly did neither; only watched, grinning. "Better?"

Miranda nodded, pulled some toilet paper free, and dabbed between her legs. "Thank you."

"You know I can't let you back into the rest of the house now. Not like that."

"What?" Miranda asked, pulling her pants back up.

"You're filthy!" Shepard explained. "When my dogs pee, I have them washed, or else their stench lingers and stinks up the whole house."

Miranda frowned. "Commander, I-"

Shepard cut her off with a raise of her hand. "Don't say another word, you filthy bitch. Get in that shower."

Miranda looked over to it and considered it. A shower wouldn't be bad at the moment, in all honesty. She'd appreciate a little hot water and some soap after all she'd been through since Shepard kidnapped her. She looked back to Shepard and nodded. "Yes, commander."

Shepard walked with her, and when she crossed into the shower, the commander unhooked her leash and pulled her wrists together in front of her. Miranda opened her mouth to ask what she was doing, but Shepard's look made her think twice. The commander looped two holes around the leash and stuck Miranda's slender wrists into them. Then she lifted it above their heads, and pulled Miranda's hands down behind her neck. Shepard attached the shortened leash to a hook jutting from the shower wall and stepped back. Miranda tugged at her hands, but they'd been secured tightly, the leash tightening around her wrists and keep her arms awkwardly sticking elbow-first into the air above her. She looked up at Shepard. "Commander..." she began to protest.

"Nope. Filthy bitches like you don't get to speak until your nice and clean, you understand?"

Miranda swallowed her pride and nodded.

"Good. Now 'hang around' in here," Shepard said, laughing at her own pun. "And I'll... be back with some help."

And then she was gone.

Miranda turned awkwardly to get a look at the leash. It didn't provide much slack, so she was only able to get turned halfway. She could spot the hook out of the corner of her eye; the leash fasted securely to it. She cursed and tried once more to pull her wrists apart behind her neck, but the leash only seemed to tighten as she struggled. Sighing, she realized all she could do was wait.

Shepard returned a few minutes later, and this time she tugged at another leash. Entering the room behind her was Jack; the woman's neck collared and leash like her own, but her hands were tied behind her back, and she wore both a blindfold and gag. "We're here, baldy. You ready to play nice?"

"Merph ou phuggin mich!" Jack chewed her words through the gag.

"Would you calm down, I told you it was Liara who did this to you," Shepard said, pulling hard on Jack's leash so the tattooed woman had to stumble forward into her arms. "Now let me ask again: You ready to play nice?"

Jack growled beneath her breath and took a moment to calm herself, but she eventually nodded.

"Good girl," Shepard said, petting her head. "You've got work to do."

Miranda didn't like the sound of that.

The commander pulled the gag from Jack's mouth, then the blindfold. Jack squinted into the brightness of the bathroom and her eyes scanned the area, falling on Miranda. She stared, frowning and confused. "What is this shit?"

"This shit is your job," Shepard explained, going behind Jack and working her hands free from the rope. "Miss Lawson is dirty, and I want her washed. You're going to do that for me."

"Fuck that," Jack protested, but her words sounded weak and lacking their usual fiery rage.

"Oh?" Shepard said, and her hand shot out fast and hard, grabbing what little there was to grab of Jack's hair and wrenching her head back. Shepard brought her face close and stared down at Jack, who was fuming, but silent. "Disobey me again and things will go very badly for you. Understand?"

"Yeah, I got it, shit," Jack said, wincing as her neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle.

Shepard let her go and shoved her forward, her hands no freed. "Clean that filthy bitch," the commander said with a playful snicker. "This is going to be hot."

"Shepard..." Miranda protested.

"Commander."

Miranda sighed. "Commander, please. I'm more than capable of washing myself if you'd just loosen my wrists, I-"

"No," Shepard said, plain enough. "God, you little whores think you really have a say about what goes on around here, don't you? Shut the fuck up, Miranda, and enjoy this. Remember all those times aboard the Normandy when you and Jack were at each other's throats? Well, now look at this. The bitch is washing you now. Isn't that gratifying?"

Miranda swallowed and looked at Jack, who had just stepped inside the shower. Their eyes met and held on one another. Jack had her usual flare of anger burning there, but... there was something else in those eyes too. Almost a... curiosity. "I'm sorry, Jack," Miranda said, balling her useless hands into fists behind her head.

Jack looked her up and down. "She's dressed," the bald woman called back to Shepard.

"Ah yes... suppose you'll have to... cut her clothing off," Shepard said, a big smile spreading across her face. She slid a knife across the hard floor of the bathroom, where it jumped the little lip of the shower's entrance and landed at Jack's bare feet. The commander walked up beside the glass and peered into the shower, arms folded across her chest. "Go on."

Jack lifted the knife and looked back at Miranda. She took a deep breath and approached.

"Jack, please be careful," Miranda pleaded.

Jack worked the blade in between Miranda's breasts and poked a tiny hole in the fabric of her top. Then she brought the knife down in one quick motion and the shirt came flapping apart in the middle; Miranda's bare breasts now exposed and hanging there before Jack.

Jack looked down at them and back up at Miranda. Miranda looked away, embarrassed and avoiding eye contact. Her gaze met Shepard's outside, who was smirking and nodding her head in satisfaction. "Good," she said.

Jack cut slits in the arms too, and then Miranda's whole top was peeled away and tossed to the corner of the shower, leaving her naked from the waist up. She pressed her lips tightly together and put her head back, still avoiding Jack's gaze; this was the most awkward thing she'd ever experienced.

"Her pants," Shepard commanded from outside the shower. Her hand was on the shower wall, her fingertips rubbing the glass gently.

Jack went to her knees and knelt there for a moment. Shepard rapped on the glass and Jack shot her an annoyed glance. "Alright, shit," she said and reached up to unbuckle Miranda's pants. Miranda felt them tug off her hips, and then Jack was lifting each of her legs to pull her feet out. Then she was naked from the waist down as well, save her last clinging bit of dignity: her panties.

"Let's see what Miss Lawson is packing, hmm?" Shepard said from outside the glass.

"Commander, please," Miranda begged. "Hasn't this gone far enough?"

Shepard put a hand to her chin and stroked. "I'm not sure. You know what? Let's leave the decision to Jack. Hear that, baldy? If you think you can do the job working around those annoying panties of Miss Lawson's... then be my guest. But if you want to do it right... and please your comander... well, there's only one right way then, isn't there? Choose."

Jack knelt before Miranda, frowning. She looked up and, again, their eyes met. Miranda gave a slight shake of her head, and Jack looked back down. "Shit..." she muttered, and then grabbed fistfuls of the panties and yanked them down around Miranda's ankles.

"Jack!?" Miranda yelped, her knees instinctively buckling together to try and hide her womanhood.

Jack tossed the panties into the same corner as the pants and stood, turning to Shepard. "Alright..."

"Soaps and shampoos," Shepard said, pointing to the shower wall. "I want her sparkling by the end of this."

Jack glanced over to them, Miranda noticed her eyes sweeping across her chest as she did, and retrieved a bar of soap. The shower nozzles jutted from beneath the head, and Jack knelt beside them and turned. A spray of cold water came beating down over Miranda's body and head. "Oh!" she cried out, trying to twist out of the way of the coldness, but her leash only provided a few inches of slack so she could not escape the downpour.

Jack made some adjustments and the water warmed. Miranda shook her head, tossing clumps of already-soaked hair from her face. Her hands being bound behind her head was never more apparent; she couldn't stop the water from hitting her face and chest, and her hair had become impossible to avoid as it stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Jack moved in front of her and ran a hand back over her head, moving the hair out of her eyes and tucking behind her ears. She blinked water from her eyes and squinted. "Thank you," she said.

Jack went to her knees again and knelt before Miranda, looking her body over. She apparently decided to work her way up, because the tattooed woman cupped her hand around the back of Miranda's calf and began working the soap into her shin and ankle. Miranda looked down and watched Jack work meticulously to get her clean, and she wasn't sure if she was doing it for her sake, Shepard's, or her own. Jack put the bar of soap between her palms and rubbed the soap into them. She set the bar aside, lifted Miranda's leg higher, and worked her soapy hands into her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda could see Shepard had take a seat on a bench beside the shower. She was sitting, watching, and smiling.

Jack rubbed and scrubbed until both her feet, as well as her calves, shins, and knees were clean. Then she straightened her back and came up a bit higher. Miranda flushed and felt a warmth rush across her skin. Jack glanced up at her, and Miranda looked away, embarrassed. She felt Jack's slender hands take a hold of thighs, and then she was running the bar of soap up and down them. Every time she reached the top, Miranda could feel her crotch shift slightly in anticipation. Jack's hand wrapped around her thighs and her fingers pressed deep into her ass cheeks as she soaped them up. Her bald head was only inches from the thin, well-groomed, line of Miranda's pubic hair. Miranda licked her lips as her mouth went dry and her throat itched. She cleared her throat, and Jack looked up again, the woman's hands still planted firmly on her ass cheeks. Miranda took notice of Jack's eyes, her jawline, her lips, the way the water was splashing off her head and soaking her thin shirt. She shook her head free of the thought and looked up at the ceiling instead. Jack's hands slid above her ass, and she stood up, bringing her soapy fingers around to Miranda's frontside and sliding them up her stomach, tracing two lines along her ribcage, and then cupped beneath her breasts and squeezed.

"Oh.." Miranda moaned, unable to stop herself.

Jack ignored her and began gently rubbing the bar of soap between her breasts. She hooked her thumbs beneath them and worked the soap deeper and deeper into her chest. Miranda felt her nipples stiffen, and her face went red with embarrassment. "...stop," she whispered, but the word came out breathy and lusty, and instead of sounding like protest, it sounded more like an encouragement. Either way, Jack did not stop. She slid her hands up around Miranda's breasts, circling the nipples with her fingers, and began working the soap up into her neck and beneath her chin. Miranda's eyes shut and her mouth fell open as she felt Jack's body press up against hers and the woman's hands run up the sides of her face to wash her. As her fingers slid across Miranda's lips, one slipped inside her mouth and Miranda's sucked at it. "Jack..." she whispered when the bald woman removed her fingers and began sliding her hand back down over her chest, her stomach, and... further. She opened her eyes and found Jack staring at her. She swallowed, her heart thumping in her chest, and nodded. "Kiss me." Jack licked her lips and leaned in just as her hand found its way to her crotch.

"That will do, Jack," Shepard said, and when Miranda opened her eyes she saw the commander had entered the shower and killed the water. She was standing with her arms folded, watching them. "She's clean enough."

Jack frowned. "Are you serious? I thought..." She looked at Miranda, then back at Shepard. "I thought you wanted to see this..."

"See what? Two filthy little dyke whore trying to get each other off in my bathroom?" Shepard snapped. "Don't presume to think you're clever enough to know what I want, Jack."

Miranda was still catching her breath. "I don't understand, Shepard..."

"You don't have to," Shepard said. "Jack go wait in the hall for me, I'm taking you back to the dungeon."

"Fuck that!" Jack protested, turning defensively on the commander.

Shepard sighed, stuck two fingers between her lips, and whistled. In seconds, a squad of volus were pouring into the room, eager to do their master's bidding. "Take this mouthy little bitch back to the dungeon. Chain her up and gag her. Go."

"This is bullshit, Shepard!" Jack screamed. "What kind of fucking games are you playing!? You fucking... bitch!"

But then the volus had her surrounded, and Jack was helpless to stop the little aliens from grabbing her limbs and dragging her out of the bathroom as she cursed them and screamed the whole way.

The door shut behind them and Miranda looked over at Shepard. "Why?"

"Why what?" Shepard said. "I wanted to make sure I knew who you two really were. Now I know. You're not as... resistant to one another as you both seem to be to me. That's fine, preferable, in fact. It just means I'll have to break you down before I make you mine."

Miranda frowned. "It isn't right to punish Jack for obeying your commands..."

Shepard's brow lifted. "Are you telling me how to run my mansion you little whore?" She took a step closer.

Miranda suddenly remembered her bound and useless hands stuck behind her head and swallowed nervously. "No, commander. I just... she didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't do that," Shepard said, grabbing her by the chin. "She isn't on your side, here. She'd throw you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it meant her freedom. The only one on your side is me. You'll learn that in time."

"I just-"

Shepard grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. Miranda yelped and winced as the commander loomed over her. "Do not make the mistake of lusting for anyone other than me again. Understood?"

"Y-Yes!" Miranda cried out, her neck throbbing as her head was pulled back further and further.

"Yes who?"

"Yes, commander!"

Shepard let her hair free and Miranda's head snapped back upright. She grimaced as the pain still wrung from her scalp. Shepard looked her over, licking her lips. "Maybe I've been too soft on you little bitches. Maybe I need to start showing you how gentle I've really been so far..."

"N-No, please, commander," Miranda begged.

"Shut up," Shepard snapped. "I'm going to think over a suitable punishment for your... whoreish behavior. I'll send for you when I've decided your fate."

And then the commander left her, alone, naked, bound and collared in the shower; the water still pooled around her bare feet. The leash didn't have enough slack to allow her to sit, so she stood and waited, wondering how things could get any worse.