Chapter Text
Shepard had done the impossible. She’d seized the day to rid the galaxy of another threat in the collectors, led her crew through an suicide mission, prevented an Reaper invasion and given humanity another asset towards its inevitable war along with countless other things deserving of the paragon of humanity.
So why was it that she was struck under house arrest.
Of course she’d expected the Alliance’s reaction to the destruction of Bahak system to be extreme and it was true her associations to Cerberus made her a distrusted asset(not to mention other under the table dealings) but to be struck on Earth, in this house/cell, left to twiddle her thumbs, for what felt like years now. It was infuriating.
Not helped by her only contact with the outside world slowly whittled down from the occasional messages from her crew, her friends, her girlfriend and even Hackett to nothing. Just nothing. For a month at the very least, Commander Shepard had heard nothing of the world outside these four walls. No doubt one of the Alliance’s bureaucratic doings to keep her isolated, the question was why? Certainly nothing good for her came to mind. Though she almost wished for a straight up court martial. At least then she could kill the anticipation and dread wound up in her and know that the world outside hadn’t slowed to a crawl.
There was only so many exercises and pulpy Alliance propaganda Shepard could consume before she went mad after all. She’d already given up trying to maintain her hair, leaving it a dishevelled red mop that would’ve made her the laughing stock of Normandy. When she returned…eventually.
Until one day a package arrived.
Slipped inside her quarters overnight in an old-fashioned cardboard box, still wrapped tight with tape of all things, summarily cut away after being deposited on her table. A cliff note to save the tape for later gone when she started to take its contents out. Shepard in shock as she did so.
‘NORMANDY UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT’ was plastered on the picture frames plaque, below a picture of the Normandy with its crew out front, lined in a row, a new woman in the center.
Tali, Miranda, Kelly, Samara, Kasmui, Jack, Gabriella and Liara. All the women of Normandy or had been acquainted with it were there, hands behind their back respectfully-submissively. Their faces pulled taut in a forced smile wherever possible, though Shepard doubted anyone else would know from the distance the photo was from them, masking their discontent in this obvious Alliance propaganda piece.
Everyone of them was forced into a new uniform for this power move: An modified Alliance uniform, firstly it was bright white, decorative as it was forced onto them(Shepard didn’t imagine a world where some members would willingly wear that. Though some members like Tali were obviously still in their ‘own’ attire.). Yet it differed in focus, looking more like a Omega parody of one.
With a new salacious cleavage window cut to its center, illustrating the front side of their varying levels of cleavages to the camera and shorter. Even from the front-facing angle of the photo Shepard could see how small the uniform’s white ornate jackets were, hugging their bodies every curve closely before stopping at their groins. Where it ended before nothing. Below their waists there were only white leggings further down their legs, leaving patches of their upper thighs to the air and their underwear only hidden by the exceedingly small hemline of their jackets. Not to mention if they started moving.
Though Shepard stared at the most scandalous of their attire, the collars. Thick metallic bulky things wrapped around every one of their necks equating them to prisoners with them on.
Slave collars. No matter what the little pamphlet in the box said, these were Slave collars, not ‘Alliance Biotic training neckbands’. The Alliance had put them on to control the Normandy and its crew, a measure to restrict biotics no doubt and with probably the same measures put in prisons to prevent escape.
This photo Shepard saw was of the Normandy enslaved. Sure, the Alliance may put it in fancy words to fluff it up but it was blatant to anyone that the Normandy was under their control- well under the control of Weiss Schnee.
‘Weiss Schnee, perhaps the greatest in a long line of great Alliance commanders?” Read a tabloid cover bundled in the box, and a photo of that same woman that was in front of the Normandy plastered there as well. The same irritating smirk plastered on her face, the same white ponytail and the same scar across her left eye.
She was young, almost too young for the sheer number of medals plastered onto her jacket though Shepard doubted Weiss’s age factored into that decision, or experience. Nepotism certainly helped in place of them. As the tabloid made clear, Schnee was a powerful name even if Sheperd hadn’t heard of it. Powerful enough to become the new owners of the Normandy.
The Schnee Heiress the only woman in the photo to be dressed in the normal alliance garb of a captain, she was also the only one to be genuinely smiling though it was a smile like a fox in a henhouse, or a predator in a crowd of prey.
With a closer look Shepard started to see more defections on her crew: Hickies, bruises and other markings spread across their skin sporadically. The way Miranda stood with a limp, Jack’s eyebrows looked to be in pain from something between her legs, Kelly had an obvious hickey on her neck and Liara…
Liara, Shepard's girlfriend, the same Liara she had been intimate with, had smudged blue lipstick…And somehow that made Shepard's heartache the most…
Once the box was emptied, Shepard spotted, amongst the rubble of humiliating memorabilia, a bunch of ancient video tapes. Unlabelled. Whoever had sent this package had wanted to see her to see the Normandy, her crew, her Liara and now they wanted her to see what was on these dreadful tapes. If only Shepard could refuse.
Time a blur between when she picked up the tapes and when she slid them into her player. Sat down with the remote in her hand to play them on her tv. Commander Shepard for a moment, hesitated, a palpitation of fear in her heart at what she may see, of who and what were on these tapes. It took all her courage to not throw away the remote- but she pressed the button down.
Starting the first tape.
///
It had all gone to hell the moment they had taken Shepard. Jack had thought it another prison at first, another one in the long line of cells she had been confined to. Except back then she’d been at rock bottom even if she didn’t know it. Shepard had helped her up to her feet. Which made it even worse when she was once again swept back down to the floor and down, lower than ever before.
“That stupid bitch.” Jack mumbled to herself. Unsure if it was for Shepard or her.
Her attempts to sleep racked by these thoughts again and again. A dance she was familiar with but always hated. Then again sleeping huddled into the darkest corner, under the stairs of engineering was never going to give her happy dreams. But at least it gave her peace from the devil of the ship.
Being away from whatever sadistic whims Weiss had in that mind of hers was well worth the discomfort. Not after what she’d done to Kelly, and the rest of her captives, though Jack had snuck away before Weiss could get to her. Jack didn’t want any part in those depraved games. She couldn’t be. Not again.
Thankfully Jack wasn't still in those ‘uniforms’ Weiss had chosen for their embankment. They had been given some time to ‘dress as you would without me here.’ afterwards, well apart from their collars.
Back at the start of their departure. When Weiss had, for a day, hidden her true nature from them. A single day where Weiss had treated them like humans and had seemed normal in her command. Jack had almost been tricked, almost been fooled by the personable lie Weiss had started off with, ‘almost’. Jack had seen through the Heiresses false apologises for their ‘bad treatment’ and desires for a fresh start and moved herself at the back of the crowd, watching, away from Weiss’s pale eyes, up til the moment they all retreated to their sleeping quarters.
Then they awoke to screaming from Kelly’s cot. Weiss there with her. And then Jack hid.
Ever since then every single locker or cabinet had been locked, keeping them in the clothes they had on their backs. For Jack it had been her outfit way back then, with Sheperd: A belt-like strap across her breasts, covering her nipples, and thick maroon pants with boots to finish. Her skin’s many tattoos left open to the air confidently. Only now did Jack regret the amount of her upper body she left revealed. It meant even the Normandy felt cold to sleep in.
“Come on, sleep already. Sleep, Jack come on, please.” Jack cursed herself. She didn't have any more memories stopping her from sleeping. It never helped. Just like her starving stomach, ears and aching limbs from sleeping in the fetal position.
Still Jack eventually let her eyes droop, and slowly started to drift away.
To sleep.
Lost in sleep for a little while…
Not hearing as someone entered the room. Softly stepping towards the sleeping huddled Jack and placing her hands against her waist, tugging down her pants, inches at a time, palming at it all the while, savouring the feel of the tough Jack’s ass before continuing to slide them down. More and more of her tattooed body was revealed. The downward curve of her back leading to taut assche-
Jack swung a fist at her attacker instinctively. “GET THE FUCK OFF ME-” Flailing a flurry before the collar activated.
“Bad girl!” Weiss barked out right before the shocks hit, Killing Jack’s punch before it even connected.
Jack’s shouts turnt to choking noises by the collar’s shocks reverberating through her body. Pain. Indescribable pain wracked her. A combination of the aforementioned shock, the constriction of her air-ways by the tightening collar round her neck and her torturer’s mocking laughter. Enough pain to even make the tough Jack let loose a tear. Left to convulse there while Weiss continued tugging at her pants. Unable to even formulate a token resistance.
Her thong left to dangle in a bunch down her long legs, leaving it revealed while the shocks started to finally die: “Oooh. So this is what the ‘bad bitch Jack’ has underneath.” Weiss’s mocking voice the first thing Jack heard on the come down, slowly, breath short, body dead weight under Weiss’s gropes. “A fine ass tattooed like a bitch.” ‘bitch’ whispered deep into Jack’s ear. “Or maybe you just liked giving your master’s a show, Subject Zero.”
“Fuck off! “ Growled between Jack’s teeth, barely. It took everything to not keep her head in her arms, to lift her head off the ground and turn to meet Weiss’s eyes. But slowly Jack did it. Uncurling her aching limbs until she merely lay there on the floor.
“You know I’d thought the so-called ‘Subject Zero’ would be more impressive than this. The way people talk about you…Well I expected more than an uppity skinny bitch tattooed like she was big shit-”
“Your dead! Your fuckin’ dead! I’ll fucking rip you ap-” Jack tried to push herself off the ground before falling on her face again.
“Then again I imagine all that Biotic bullshit was just a excuse to torture you. You do give off a ‘please make me your bitch’ sorta vibe. You and the rest of your weakling buddies back at the test site. Just a bunch of dead failures now. Oh, except from you, you're only legally dead-”
“Fuck you!” She was barely able to get on her hands and knees, trembling from the effort. Enraged.
“No-one to miss you, no-one to fight for you. ‘Subject Zero the psychotic freak of nature. Lived as a test subject, briefly escaped as a slave then returned to be a slave. A truly pathetic thing.’ That’s all they’ll ever know of you and you’ll know of you- “
…Jack turnt around, able to finally look up Weiss.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be like you never left. I’ll make sure of it.”
Weiss’s face stared down. Young, pretty if not for that same sadistic grin across her face.
Unlike the rest of the women she was free to dress herself in whatever she wanted and for now it was the same officer uniform she had worn for the ceremony yet noticeably the pants seemed more ragged like they had been just put on, and her jacket was half buttoned up revealing the lack of anything underneath.
Though one thing remained obvious no matter the clothing. The love of suffering strewn across her face. Evil. Incensed evil. Down there, to Jack, that pretty face seemed like a goddess- no, a devil.
Jack drew forth her strength, any semblance of it she could find within herself. ‘Subject Zero’ was the name of the most powerful Biotic. Now Jack wished for nothing, except to blast that Bitch Weiss to pieces.
Weiss coughed.
“Subject Zero…How stupid are you?”
The collar activated again, sending Jack back crumpled to the ground. Balled up to the side, pathetically grunting and wheezing as her breath was fried out of her. All the while Weiss laughed. At the proud fierce pirate shrivelled up on the ground beneath her, whole body painfully convulsing, thong-clad ass unintentionally jiggling along with it- a detail Weiss of course noticed.
Heiress crouching down until she could hover her hands over Jack’s skin, continuing to massage her palms against it, rubbing into that tattooed black back, snaking her fingers under those breast straps and down Jack’s shapely ass.
Groping the all powerful Biotic while she trembled in pain, somehow Weiss’s harsh grabs penetrated through to her whirlwind of pain, feeling Weiss press around her breasts and ass harshly, squeezing and groping at either tit or ass, clawing at them hard enough to leave red marks in them.
A few humiliating gasps slipped in between Jack pained gagging. Even as the collar’s shocks switched off, Jack remained still. The aches remained. Her cheeks remained against the cold ground, her body weightlessly left sprawled out, only moved by Weiss’s gropes. Nerves still fried, sensitive to every breath, every movement, every invasive touch.
Her brief respite punctuated by coughs and other gasps from her dried throat. Finally able to place Weiss’s fingers underneath her remaining clothes as her thong was slung around down her legs with her pants and her strap was unbuckled and thong aside, leaving her naked under Weiss’s palms.
“W-wh-what ar-are Yo-AGH” Barely a whisper from Jack interrupted by a gasp. All she could do now that Weiss had shocked the attitude out of her, leaving a defenceless girl in its place. Weiss increased her efforts, freely tugging Jack’s teats and palming her hand across the entire curvature of her ass, trailing further and further inward until she massaged her pussy lips- “Pl-please.“
Resurfaced trauma came to a surface. More and more of Jack’s whispered ‘protests’ seemingly half in the past from when she was raped, sold, enslaved before. This time layered on top of it like a crumbling pyramid in her mind, leaving her tears to fall, crying while the situation dawned on her. She was getting raped: Weiss’s cold fingers prodding and poking at her dry snatch, drawing it out for Jack, trembling in the fetal position while her rapist had her way with her. And Jack was powerless to stop it.
Though this was almost a mercy. It meant she didn’t have to see how much Weiss was loving this. The heiress moving closer to savour this…
Weiss mounted herself against Jack’s back: wrapping her hands round Jack’s waist, letting them both trail down against her snatch, her breasts pushing against Jack’s back, head over Jack’s shoulder. The position is almost like a lover’s. Except without any of the warmth. Fear and heat replacing it. Jack’s trembling body had nowhere to go- to escape from Weiss when she started to force her fingers inside.
One inserted cold digit enough to make Jack wince. Rammed through her dry pussy with a sadistic eagerness. Two cold digits made her gasp. Able to feel both fingers play in her pussy’s insides. Three- three fingers made her beg. “Please.” another barely audible whisper while Weiss kept sawing them back and forth, flailing ineffectively in Weiss’s grip. Four fingers-“N-no, You can’t.” Weiss shoved them inside, forcing them inside that dry tight snatch.
The collar activated. Jack couldn’t scream anymore instead an gasping almost choking sound replaced it. Jack’s strength sapped enough she couldn’t even flail. Just limply twitch there while Weiss sawed her fingers in and out, loving the sensation of Jack’s shivers of pain at the collar’s work. Those thin fingers stretching her out in a painful intrusion on top of the shocks, her head thumping against the ground one, Weiss’s words another.
“Subject Zero, you don’t get it to say no anymore.” Weiss’s words were worth a dozen shouts whispered into Jack’s ears. “I can and will do whatever I want with you.” She drew her hand out then balled it into a fist. Jack whimpered.
“I-I-W-wait-jus-” Weiss could feel the shrivelling sobs wrack Jack’s body. The sheer terror of being fisted eclipsed any sexual experience(and Weiss could tell it was a decent amount) she had had, of having those five knuckles ground into her. “No…stop”
“What did I say Subject Zero? You can’t say no anymore.” Weiss said. Then watched as Jack winced, expecting another shock. Only to get Weiss’s fist instead.
Driven through her barely stretched dry entrance with a hefty push, through until it was clenched in the tight quarters of Jack’s pussy despite her sobs. The pain of having her insides fisted in every shaky sob of the once fierce Jack, incoherently pathetic while Weiss rammed her fist as far up that cunt as possible. Every dry piece of painful friction generated there queued another range of shrieks.
Weiss finding amusement in how high-pitched Jack could go. The deeper her fist pushed inside the more Jack seemed to squeak with it and the more she retracted it the more guttural her sobs were. And when she went as far as she could, up til her wrist. Jack practically sung agony.
For a while Weiss stayed there, pumping her fist in and out, pushing and pulling it every which way, twisting, fingering, fisting herself inside Jack. Her well-manicured fingers scratching at all those sensitive spots Jack liked, ‘scratching’, certainly not the smooth fingering Jack had liked to give and get on occasionally. Wherever pleasure was supposed to come was turnt red by knuckle or nail. Only stopping when she couldn’t coax another squeak to rival the last pathetic scream. Her fist removed with no small amount of the impaled sobs of Jack. Grimly dry.
“Now Subject Zero. Are you ready to get started? ” Weiss remarked while she got off of Jack but not away from her.
The heiress free to manoeuvre her around until Jack was pushed down on the ground, ass propped up on her knees, upper body slumped down onto the floor. Bare breasts shoved against that cold tile and her cheeks as well. Weiss ominously positioned behind her. Groping hands on her ass, and when that didn’t get more than a mewl Weiss delivered a harsh spank.
“AH-” Jack yelped. Once. Twice, a third time. Then Weiss stopped.
“Did you hear me Subject Zero? Are you ready to start?”
Jack shook her head face down. Her body’s shaking gave away her feelings.
“LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU! ” Weiss shouted. The threat clear.
Slowly, Jack craned her head to look back at Weiss, getting on her shivering elbows to do so. Her face a wonderful mess of broken down mascara, red eyes and trailing tears where before a criminal was. Not even able to meet Weiss’s eyes as she repeated the question.
“Are you ready to get started!? ”
For a moment Jack contemplated the best move to avoid punishment before hopelessly realising it didn’t matter before Weiss. She could only appease her. Jack nodded her head.
“Really?” Weiss’s voice marred by mocking surprise.
Jack nodded.
“Let me show you then what you’re in for.”
Weiss let her pants fall. A tall dick flopping out. The fine product of natural Schnee genes and genetic experimentation all for the largest of dicks- there were no other finer words to describe it, it really was a mast of a dick. Long inches of pure Schnee meat filled up with virile sperm. Throbbing in anticipation to fit inside Jack’s stretched out pussy.
“This-” Weiss’s dick slapped against Jack’s ass. Ominously left nestled in between Jack’s ass cheeks. “-Is going inside you. I will ram your cunt raw, shove my great Schnee cock into your womb and give you the honour of taking my seed.” Capping off her explanation with a final spank. “Now once again, are you ready to get started, subject Zero?”
Jack imagined that glistening dick going inside her. Thicker than Weiss’s thin wrist. Shoved through the dry pained folds and pumped backward and forward. Every inch piercing her, stretching her beyond what was natural leaving her cunt reamed open. But if she ‘refused.’(shook her head) Weiss would only make it worse. Activate that will-sapping collar and add another humiliation. But if she accepted…She would be raped.
This entire thought process blatantly played out on Jack’s face for Weiss to enjoy. From the rictor of dread, the shiver of realisation, Weiss watched Jack come to her conclusion. Slowly nodding- “Say it out loud! “ Weiss interrupted, adding some more instructions to egg Jack onto the right humiliating prose.
“Yes. I want to be fucked by your great dick…” Jack said, sounding half-dead, but submissive enough to pass. Weiss’s look made her keep going. “M-Mistress. please fuck my whore pussy. Fuck me into the ground. Pleas-” She hesitated…she had been running from that name almost all her life, hearing it again had been torture, using it again would be defeat- Weiss clicked her tongue. “-Subject Zero. Please give Subject Zero your seed. ”
Weiss’s laughter would be ingrained in her mind forever.
Taking no time at all to slide her cock down until it pressed against Jack’s quivering, red pussy lips, and pushed inside in one spearing thrust of her waist. Length shoved inside that dry twat, stretching it past the fisting or anything had stretched Jack before, a battering ram of red hot pain to the system, seizing her breath away in gasps and shrieks while Weiss ruthlessly stabbed it completely inside in one first sheer thrust.
Cunt walls like sandpaper against Weiss’s prick, a burning pain that made Jack sob with every inch and strike as it scratched onto her already rubbed raw walls. Forced to stretch around that impaled pole else rip alongside Jack’s pride. Unable to even stop the stream of fresh tears pumped out of her, her limbs lying limp from exhaustion, Jack just limply lie there and suffers for her rapist’s pleasure. All her rage, pain, shame , fear and despair, only fuel for Weiss’s burning lust.
All Jack’s turmoil the only lubrication Weiss needed to start properly fucking Jack. Hammering into that twat again and again, deeper and deeper. Jack’s gasps of pain only encouraging Weiss to go harder into her. Weiss pulling her back with a firm grip on those black striped thighs Jack had been so proud of into her forceful thrusts. Never leaving a moment without another slam of her dick, throbbing with more pleasure by the minute despite Jack’s pain.
The Heiress loved this- the ‘simple’ pleasure of rape: Of taking some upstruck bitch and forcing her way inside her cunt, burying it all the way inside that hole she’d made her own. In that feeble resistance Jack’s pussy made as she speared her cock through all the way inside and out again. Her victims pangs of pain Weiss’s pleasure, her full body shiver’s the only caress her cock needed. The fact it was a renowned hardened criminal collapsing in on herself beneath just made it all feel so much better. Forever now Jack would remember getting raped by Weiss. Over that period of slavery Weiss had read about in the captain’s quarters, at least then Jack could disassociate, mask it under being a powerless younger woman. There were no delusions here. Jack was getting raped and there was nothing she could do about it.
No refuse, no refuge, just an undignified rape through her demolished body and pained mind. Without any lubrication, Weiss’s dick sliding to and fro was a rod of pain, repeatedly butchering her nerves and bludgeoning her skin ragged until arousal was a lost dream. Jack lost into this whirlwind of painful fucking, limp on the ground until Weiss got an idea.
“Count!”...Jack didn’t react. “Count!”...Another husky gasp of pain retched out of Jack as Weiss thrust her dick back inside again. The former’s words were ignored, providing the perfect excuse for more agony.
The collar activated. Jack screamed.
An guttural scream like a dying animal yet Weiss kept fucking her, even as she thrashed about like one. The Heiress loved the feel of Jack’s whole body convulsing in pain around her cock or the satisfying ways that her scream broke down into gasps of pain and shrieks while the shock’s effects waned after a few seconds, eternity for Jack. Her Ears still ringing from the pain when Weiss shouted again. “Count!”. Enough to miss it.
The collar activated. Jack screamed again.
“Count!”
The collar activated. Jack couldn’t even scream any more, just sobbing there against the ground in the puddle of traumatised tears left there, forced awake. Repeated shocks didn’t offer any hope of growing used to it, just frying her nerves even more sensitively leading to even more pain afterwards, from the shocks and the constant fucking. Weiss’s voice the prelude to suffering. Only able to think when the pain waned until it only enraptured her body instead of every inch, of Weiss’s answer.
“Count!” It took all of Jack’s remaining mind to respond just as Weiss thrust in her.
“One!” Sobbed out of Jack. By this point the only language Jack spoke, earning her a spank on the ass as a ‘reward’ and another thrust. “Two!” The sounds of Weiss’s laughter a twisted mercy. “Three! Four! Five…” Jack was forced to keep track of those stabs to the pussy, forced to acknowledge and remember them. To experience them fully in all painful steps of their journey. “Nine.Ten.”
“What are you!”
“Eleve-” The collar activated. Jack sobbed.
“Count!”
“One! Two! Three…” Jack obeyed. “-Ten!”
“What are you!“
“Subject Zero.” Another affirmative slap.
“Count.” “What are you!”
“One! Tw-”Count to ten. “ Subject Zero.”Say who she was.
“Count” “What are you! “ “Count! What are you! ” “Count! What are you! “
Count to ten. Say what she was. Count until her throat was dry. Scream while being fucked. If she was inadequate it would be the shocks again. A game of suffering where the only way to win was to pray her mistress finally came. It finally coming as suddenly and violently as everything else Weiss did.
Weiss stabbing inside her for the final time. All Jack’s suffering and tears…So fucking satisying for Weiss, letting out a mighty moan as she finally came. Inside of Jack’s poor abused cunt. Dreaded semen hardly a balm for the pain. Left to leak out and around her cock while it remained lodged inside, pumping her seed inside Jack in between errant thrusts ‘to properly savour’ her. The younger woman is free to sit there and cum inside Jack with impunity. Whether the seed would come to fruition is another choice taken from Jack.
Only when Weiss had drained her dick inside Jack: filled her with so much burning cum it seemed obscene, dragged her cock against every vaginal wall her cunt had and battered it in pain and cum, got Jack’s to sob another indescribable amount of pathetic cries. Did Weiss finally pull out.
Cum oozed out of Jack. Just lying there, limp and half-dead. When Weiss let go of her hips that too went slump against the ground with a crash. Half-comatose, curled up on the ground. Gasping and wheezing. For a moment Jack swore she could feel fingers trailing up her thighs again, fingering at her rosebud…
Weiss kicked Jack’s stomach. “What are you!”
“Subject Zero…”
That pathetic mumble into the ground exactly what Weiss wanted to hear. Laughing all the way out of the room. Happy to leave Jack where she lay rolled up into herself pathetically and go about her day as if violating the powerful bionic was just one of many. Another day in Weiss’s tenure as captain of the Normandy. Jack just one of many vulnerable women on this ship and now that she was broken for a while Weiss would move on to the next. Leave Jack to smoulder a bit in self-hatred a bit before tormenting her again later. Weiss giving one final mocking wave: “See you later. Subject Zero.”
Jack though didn’t even notice. Too busy sobbing into herself. Traumatized and shattered.
Struck there hours later after Weiss had left.
Shivering at every noise with her eyes rammed shut as she wept. Still unable to move away from the spot where she was raped. A mess of lingering pain and resurfaced trauma brought down like a crumbling foundation to the house that used to be called Jack.The cum still slowly drips out onto the floor, now cold.
And when the door opened again Jack whimpered and prayed, holding herself closer into the ball she was in. So scared and in pain that she wouldn’t remember the other woman’s words, just the piece of fabric thrown over her. A thin black jacket.
Jack’s only comfort until the next degrading rape.
///
The Normandy(or more specifically the second iteration of it) had been made to the utmost standards befitting of the legendary Commander Sheperd. To Captain Weiss this just made it a supple playground to pervert and violate almost as much as she did its crew. It was always a pleasure to fuck some genius against their work station or rape some religious cunt against their sacred text especially if they were heroes self-declared or otherwise.
It was just a shame that the Library in the Starboard observation deck was the closest thing to a meditation station there was. Meant she could only desecrate the texts metaphorically.
“C’mon Samara! You can do it! Don’t you want to stay a Justicar! ” Weiss shouted up at the noble honoured Justicar, laughing as the Asari grinded the book’s spine against her cunt. Up and down.
“Agh!” Samara cried. The spine and her pussy lips were neither wet nor equally smooth.
“K-keep fucking that- heh-book else I’ll replace it with something else- Hehe. ” Laughter broke out from the Heiress. It wasn't everyday a Justicar was naked, bow legged and on a table before her. Let alone one as prestigious as Samara. Striped naked until all her blue skin shone under the light, that lovely smoothness every Asari possessed, never broken or wrinkled from age even if Samara was almost thousand years of age, the only indication of her threats being the scars and muscle that an oath-bound crusader brought. Which made it even more ridiculous and scandalous that she was frotting against a thick book labelled: ‘The Justicar code.” All five thousand sutras of them. The next in a long line of degrading acts Weiss had put her up to and Samara as deterministic as she was didn’t- no mustn’t fail.
“Say where would raping some poor woman until she cried herself to sleep at night sit on your justice scale. Wrong or Right?” Weiss mockingly asked once she’d composed herself, staring up at the Justicar’s eyes with the same cocky grin she’d had since the beginning of her ‘Justicar lessons’, looking at her like she was dirt- which to Weiss all Asari were.
“Nnggh- Wrong Mistress- agh.”
“The punishment?”
“Death. ”
“...Huh? ” Weiss’s smile was like venom. Her pale eyes seemingly looking through Samara’s cold facade at the real Samara locked underneath, the one that hated her with all her being, the one that would’ve killed her where she stood…The one locked away by the love of a mother. “So what would you do then if one of your daughters was raped, would you kill the rapist?”
“I would kill them.” Samara's answer was prompt, hiding any nuance or musings common for the Justicar in place for safety in the place of the thinly veiled threat. She didn’t want to give away how her daughter’s being ‘raped’ wouldn’t require revenge, they were Ardat-Yakshi, any of their mates would die, rapist or no, an possible end for this tyrant she performed for. Even so Samara felt her heart ache at the heartless thought before a particularly thick page slid across her cunt “-Agh” Another dreading of a possible paper-cut across her pussy folds, not like Weiss would care.
“Really- Heh- you need a code to think of that? God you Asari really are all worthless cumdump. The Galaxy’s whores as they say. Just a shame you and the rest of your order don’t seem to understand that yet.” Weiss said as she got up from her chair, hand still stroking her cock as she did so. “Now ‘Present’ for me Samara, proud Justicar and recount that oath again. ” Weiss commanded. The novelty of having a Justicar at her command still not worn off.
At least Samara could stop committing blasphemy, throwing aside that tainted book before she could dwell on the implications of such an action. The Asari then planted her back flat against the table, curled her hands under her legs and spread them. Her smooth twat presented. Clean of Weiss’s influence for now. Yet Samara could still feel it. Down there and in her throat as she spoke. Robotically.
“By the Code, I will serve you, Weiss. Your choices are my choices. Your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code.”
Those sacred words seemed smaller every time they came out of Samara's mouth. Her first pledge to Sheperd was a moment of reverence, a day to be treasured. Her second pledge to Weiss was a moment of submission, despair and hatred, a day to be hidden away. Now though, this pledge was simply done out of Weiss’s fetishtic tendencies to see a proud Justicar splayed before her. No shine of biotic power or glossing over the eyes just a woman spread before another to observe.
Samara’s body was quite possibly the fullest on the ship with large tits and a firm figure only rivalled by few others let alone non Asari. She had led a marital life for centuries before this. Secluded from any intimacy or fragile processions before Weiss had bludgeoned her way in and ravaged that purity. And now intended to do it again.
Weiss not wasting any time in mounting the submitting woman. Her hands perversely struck around Samara’s breasts, kneading those smooth soft globes without a care for Samara's pain; if anything that made it better. Heiress watching as Samara’s cold front of a face, an attempt to resist giving Weiss more pleasure(none the wiser that it had the opposite), crumbled the more violent she got. A pained squeak leaking out of that noble haughty Samara when Weiss tugged her nipples, a groan when she slapped them. The salacious jiggle of those teats, still perky despite their size, could’ve only been improved by a set of piercings. An idea Weiss saved for later. For now though she moved further down Samara’s fine body, feeling down those curves even as they shivered from the cold and instinctive fear until she landed on her thighs.
Her dick left to slap against the Asari’s pussy folds repeatedly, dry as always, Samara’s many years of celibacy made her cunt’s grip vice-like but not welcoming in the slightest. Maybe a different person could have had her squealing, reignited that hidden away lust. But Weiss wasn't that person. An unwilling cunt of a once-proud woman was exactly what she wanted.
“Now keep those legs spread cunt. I’m going to spear your Justicar twat open and you're going to thank me for the honour! ” She said with a slap against Samara’s blue ass with her hands then another slap with her dick, rubbing it up against her folds and the plug in her ass. Still struck there from their last session many cycles ago. Large enough that Samara could feel it shake as Weiss started to press in. Dick well used to rape.
“T-Thank yo-agh!“
Blue pussylips spread apart around Weiss’s cock, immediately stabbing through and into Samara’s body with its whole brutal length despite how unprepared it always was. Weiss not wasting any time easing or comforting the Justicar of course instead choosing to start thrusting, raping that cunt without any lubrication or love.
Samara forced to endure this all: The dick rapidly pumping in between her sore and dry pussy, whatever possible arousal taken with Weiss hands, busy scratching marks into her thighs or slapping her tits just to make it even more painful and humiliating for the Long-lived Asari. Not to mention the buttplug still roughly jammed inside her. Its length shook inside her guts like it had been shoved in again, without lubrication, an horrifying experience relieved every time Weiss pounded her hips and shook it once again against her walls.
Yet through it all the Justicar tried to stay strong. Samara’s face practically pulled taut into her normal neutral expression so as to attempt to deprive Weiss another pleasure in watching her break apart, even as futile as it was while being raped by her. The pain and shame increased with every forceful thrust, her abused vaginal walls growing new sores and aches and her formerly tight asshole was scraped more and more, Samara’s hands which held her legs apart feeling more like dead weight by the second, then minute.
But in the end nothing could be saved against Weiss.
“Say them! Fucking say their names to me already you blue whore! Say them else I’ll rape them too.“ She yelled. Her command/threat took a few moments to get through to Samara.
“N-no you can’t you promised-” Samara’s weak whimper soundly interrupted by her collar activating, the resulting screams drowning out the rest of her plea. Weiss all the while laughing that same accursed laugh and kept raping between her legs, the arms that held them deathly still as she did so. The names of her children, the reason she had taken this oath of subsumation and had let Weiss trample over the rest of her oaths. On her lips while the aftershock still affected her.
“Felere!“ Her youngest. “Rila” Her second. “Morinth” She was her eldest, though the name tainted her to say. Morinth was dead yet Weiss wasn't going to give wiggle room. Samara’s words alone interspersed between even more vigorous fuckings of her twat. Weiss’s cock throbbing even more from the tears in Samara’s eyes.
The young woman never stopping her hips from raping her no matter what, engraving herself into that centuries-old tight cunt no matter what. It’s vowed chasity summarily fucked out until it was sorer than Samara had experienced even before she had joined the Justicars. ‘A well-trained twat’ as Weiss would call it, Samara would’ve named it an abused womb.
“Keep saying their names cunt! I want to cum inside you while you have your daughter’s names in your mouth. Don’t even stop to scream!“ Weiss’s next command. Which Samara obeyed.
“Felere! Rila! Morinth!“ Samara practically shouted out in between the groans of pain. “Felere! Rila! Morinth! Fel-”
She kept shouting their names over and over again, like a half-crazed mantra or prayer. Yet ‘Morinth’ stung the most, as evil as she was she had still been Samara’s off-spring, screaming her name meant a pillage of her memory, of the reason she had to have been killed; all to end in her Mother being raped on a woodern table, screaming her sisters names to sate the cruel sadist inbetween her legs, as far apart from the stalwart Justicar she’d been as possible. ‘Morinth’ wherever she must be would surely be laughing.
This dishonour would’ve been for Samara to reject her oaths and commit the most unholy of sins to escape but this too had Weiss denied. Whether it was the first moment Samara had tried to resist: Where Samara had tried to fight against Weiss on that cycle where she revealed of her evil, ended as soon as it had become with a single click of the collar and her raped in front of the shocked crew, forced to watch the strongest of them be defeated like an animal, oath’s shattered like glass. Or those many days after, Samara had always been defeated, into this crying oath breaking whore.
In her darkest moments she had tried everything to resist, a foolish endeavour when Weiss controlled the Normandy. Samara’s attempts to cope with her pulled apart oaths like metaphorical lube to Weiss’s rape. Again and again delighting in the slightest depravity or corruption of them.
Her oath of chasity raped out of her, her oath of protection broken when an strap-on had been attached to her waist and the order was given. Countless oaths stored in her mind distorted. Until the most controlling of them, the oath of subsumation, was retched out of her with threats to her daughters and an ass-fucking she still trembled from. The one oath that mattered to Weiss.
“Morinth! Felere! Rila! Mori-”
“God- yes here it comes you fucking whore. Say it! Say your oath before I cum!“
“B-By the Co-Code, I-I will serve you, Weiss. Your ch-choices are m-my choices. Your m-morals are my mo-mo-morals-”
“Cumming! “
“-YOUR WISHES ARE MY CODE!”
Weiss rammed herself inside, semen shooting out of her as she reached through to Samara’s womb. Long virle ropes of cum shot once again without any regard for the poor woman they were filling, washing over her sore flesh and battered walls perversely. Her moans overpower the whimpers of her concubine. Samara’s voice dying off after that scream. Only able to whimper like a beat dog as Weiss lurched out, her seed well and truly jammed inside Samara, sure to test the power of Asari wombs once again. Leaving a gasping red pussy in her wake.
“God you Asari really are the fucktoys of humanity. ”
Samara looked lower than a whore in Omega, tears streaming down her red-eyes to her distraught agonised face, her breasts slightly bruised, thighs littered with claw marks and her cunt weeping out the remnants of her semen. Body broken from rape almost as much as her heart sobbed.
“All that fucking savagery you alien scum say to yourselves. ‘Matriarch’ or the other worthless shit means nothing under a good human doesn't it! ” Weiss shouted at the practically comatose Samara, waking her up to respond- but not fast enough. The collar’s activation rips another scream out of the woman, a veritable waterfall of cum falling out of her as she convulses in pain. “This is what you Asari are, whimpering fuckholes. Don’t you ever forget that ‘Justicar’. Now and when I have the rest of your whore order on your knees one of these days. ” The word ‘Justicar’ is said with as much disdain as possible. Samara desperately nodded her head in agreement. Her voice snatched away from her screams and terror, praying for an end already to these depraved games.
Weiss wasn't done though. Her cock still dangerously hard, only this time covered with cum, ready for the second course.
The heiress already moving to Samara’s ass, where the butplugs end struck out like a distorted tail, splattered with some residues of cum. Only taking a moment to flick her ponytail aside before she grasped it in one hand. Ready to start pulling it out even if Samara screamed body murder(as she always did). A slight experimental tug was all that was needed to start the begging- another tug shut that up too.
Samara who had only just been used, her warrior chastity once again plundered and came into again like clockwork now on the cusp of another violation. Raping an Justicar an almost casual routine to Weiss…Somehow that made Samara’s heart ache even more. That her rape was so casual. Her pain and agony just a starter Weiss, driving it home that this was her life now. A prisoner of the Normandy for Weiss to abuse. And if she wanted her ass all Samara could do was beg. Knowing that she was so close to breaking apart even more.
Except then a miracle occurred. The subtle sound of a message being received struck the room and a look of annoyance on Weiss’s face, looking aside at the message before scoffing.
“Now, seriously!” Heiress getting back up to her feet and redressing herself in her thrown aside attire, stepping away from Samara and to the door. “Listen Justicunt, Don’t move a muscle! When I come back I want you still spread here on the table ready for an ass reaming! ”
Weiss’s final words before she sprinted out of the room leaving the still spread apart Samara.
Now left alone, saved by the bell, Samara cried. Though she didn’t know how many of those tears were in relief or in the relived trauma of a broken toy, spared from playing those depraved games for a few moments.
///
Miranda stared into the distance afforded to her in this metal tin can of a ship. She had tried her best to keep things tidy, to prevent irreversible harm to her allies in the little ways she could. Yet it was never enough. For every whisper or murmur of a good act she did Weiss would do another two to tip the scales to abject suffering. And there were only so many times she could play these same old tricks before Weiss caught on.
Her position on this ship as loosely maintained as it was performative at this point. Her role as Executive officer meant nothing if her Commander was a sadistic monster, of which Weiss was without any certain doubts. Miranda had done or seen some horrific things but what Weiss did was beyond any of Cerberus’s sins or flaws(as Miranda would have to admit). It was all…Just so wasteful. One of the best ships filled with prodigies simply treated as a party ship of rape. All these resources her and Cerberus had pulled were wasted.
Still Miranda had to admit at least she had ‘maintained’ her position even if it was acting like a glorified mailbox for Weiss and all it had taken was her dignity. She knew deep down on her pragmatic side that she had done the right thing. Secured her position for the greater good, leaving her able to do as little as she can to help them even if they cursed her now as the ‘captain’s bootlicker’ under their breath(as if they all weren’t already) though that too had died off when the last protests were extinguished with Samara and Jack.
Having the most devout and toughest of the women pleading over the intercom for mercy before screaming bloody murder did the job in burying that last bit of spirit, let alone when the screens had switched to their squatted forms: A tail of anal beads struck between their asses, each orb ribbed and larger than an apple. Meanwhile both of their cunts were hilted in a double sided dildo that looked almost the length of a baseball bat before they were forced against it, shimmying their way down it until their filled cunts touched and their lips were able to touch Weiss’s cock, hovering between them before being kissed from either side in a deep desperate worship. The looks on their faces, snivelling fear, pain and repressed hatred, burned into every woman’s mind.
Jack hadn’t exactly been Miranda’s favourite person on the ship but still. Nobody deserved that, or this. But nobody was going to save them. She had held hopes that the Illusive man would come save them. Reclaim his property at least. Yet nothing came of it. Whatever connections the Schnee had must’ve been deep and no amount of digging now would save Miranda.
The secretary/mailbox Miranda was now only afforded her some of Weiss’s mail and permissions to forward her non-confidential messages that were of interest(petty congratulations/politics, concerts, fan-cards and fashion magazines) or inform her of confidential messages, fully secure of course to prevent her from peeking further. But this meant she could distract her, even if it came at a terrible price.
“MIRANDA! WHERE ARE YOU! ”
Weiss's furious shouts echoing out as she stomps through the executive officer’s office, scanning for any signs of the Lawson bitch. Before long opening the door to Miranda’s bedroom(after all the captain’s authorisation overwrites any others) to reveal a sight many would’ve killed for.
Miranda laid on top of her bed seductively. Her fine body laid across its side, still hugged tightly by that white bodysuit she’d always worn(only missing those heels she’d worn). Every part of her body from her fantastic tits and shapely ass wedged insides and framed for her mistress's pleasure. With the former being the perfect perky handfuls for her mistress, a fact Miranda’s hands enhanced with some slow fondling. Putting on a show for Weiss even if it meant kneading her breasts up and down for her, anything to help seduce the Schnee.
“Oh Captain.“ Miranda said with as much sultry demeanour as possible for the rapist. Any hints of disgust and hatred buried inside her to be replaced with a husky begging voice of a seductress, shrinking before her angry mistress. The soft classical music in the background is ironic by this point. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were done playing with the Justicar whore and let the call come through. I really am so sorry Captain. Please tell me what I can do to make it up to you… ”
As she spoke Miranda crawled forward on the bed, snaking her hips back and forth as she approached Weiss. Carefully using all her Cerberus training to best balm that rage in front of her: Fluttering her eyes up at Weiss submissively, swinging her breasts side to side in between gropes, arching her back to accentuate that firm ass just covered by white, all to entice that hardening dick in front of her, the Normandy’s ice queen now doing all she could to get Weiss’s attention.
By the time she’d reached the end of the bed and propped herself against it the bulge in Weiss’s pants was obvious. A hyena grin replacing the scowl she’d had on before. Miranda breathed a sigh of relief. Even as Weiss stepped forward and spanked her ass.
“AH- Oh yes Captain! Thank you Captain!” She lied. Her ass burnt beneath her clothes. Weiss always spanked her ass, never like a lover’s soft spank it was harsher and more degrading than that leaving her ass permanently more sensitive, more vulnerable.
Again Weiss swatted at her ass, repeatedly slapping it with her palms while Miranda tried to lie through it all. Her groans of pain hidden under moans of pleasure, her pleading eyes hidden under a husky haze while her mouth thanked her, her mind cursed her. That thin layer of fabric that hid her ass doing little to stop the hard palms of her Captain adding another layer of red skin on top of Miranda’s ass until she was satisfied. Her pause like an Oasis in the desert.
Until her Omni-tool activated, an white slick hologram, latest in the market and the only one still on board this ship. Then with a casual flick of her wrist she conjured a leash to Miranda’s bulky collar. The long strip of white holographic rope’s conjoinment tightening the collar around Miranda’s neck, binding her to Weiss’s hands literally like a dog. “Fine. Come on. I’ll punish you on your desk. ” With that Weiss suddenly yanked the leash back, throwing Miranda off her bed in a painful undignified heap. The officer clamouring to her fe- “No, stay down.” Miranda crawled after her.
Weiss’s words concerned her even more, they weren’t the typical crude shouting, more calm and focused in their anger like a quiet snake instead of a screaming wolf, and Miranda feared where Weiss’s next bite might be. Any thoughts of her lust clouding her anger would’ve been shockingly naive at this point; nevertheless Miranda hoped she was wrong and Weiss was only going to rape her again.
Not ‘fuck’ or ‘sex’, no it was ‘rape’. No matter how many times Miranda had tried to pleasure her or herself, ‘to make it feel good’ or to ‘better service you captain’ Weiss had always favoured the selfish act of pushing Miranda down and fucking her any which ways she wanted, but never how Miranda was prepared for. Treated as the toy she was under Weiss, like everyone else under this ship it was just that she had a fancy title to go along with it.
Miranda was forced to follow alongside Weiss until they reached her desk, the screens turnt on and her chair fastly sat upon by the Heiress. Miranda pulled in between her spread legs facing the swiftly unveiled cock in front of her. She knew what to do next. Another blowjob for the Heiress, another deepthroat until she was choking, gagging and coughing up semen for days, at least it meant some sense of lubricat-
“No. Get up. I want you out of those rags. Dance out of them then straddle my dick. “ Weiss voice was eerily calm, and her dick was menacingly still dry. The leash disappeared for now. Yet Miranda obeyed, getting up off the floor as if Weiss hadn’t just given the contrary order a moment ago- a bad sign. Still she stood before Weiss, her back to the screens and forced to look at Weiss appraising her again, judging her for any signs of disobedience, any excuse to shock her(not that Weiss really needed one), a game where Miranda had to swallow her pride and try to appease the beast. No matter how foolish it was.
Miranda imagined a beat she once heard at Omega, a thumping beat to dance to, the best she would get here. Then danced. Rocking her hips side to side, shaking her chest back and forth in desperate gyrations meant to tease. It wasn't the best dance but she knew Weiss wasn't here for her dance skills, she was too busy watching the Executive officer of the ship humiliate herself by dancing like a whore, badly. But still Miranda tried her best, waving her arms and hips about in this thinly veiled act to get to see her tits shaking, then when that got boring she turned around and held onto her desk before twerking her ass at Weiss, that shapefully behind genetically made perfect shaken about even as it stung. Thankfully the position hid her red-faced shame for now.
Eventually reaching around and undoing the straps that held her suit in place, its tight-fit easing almost instantly as Miranda turnt around to face Weiss. Still dancing the same crude dance while she slowly slid it down: Past her shoulders, thin shoulder blades leaked out. Past her chest revealing the first of her Schnee branded laceware. Past her narrow belly, perfectly narrow and beautiful as the rest of her. Every newly revealed piece of her delicate white skin shook and showed off in the sultry dance Miranda performed. The thin layers of sweat from the fatigue and fear draped over her from every hip thrust and shake only enhanced this beautiful woman, the taut mask of longing her face paper-thin.
Soon enough her suit fell past her waist dropping into a pile that was swiftly thrown away in time for Miranda to straddle Weiss and perform an alluring lap-dance. Those curverous long seductive movements drew attention to the white lacy lingerie she wore. The Schnee sigil(A intricate snowflake) sown into the lacework that now wrapped around Miranda’s breasts and ass, pushing the former up into a bounty of cleavage for Weiss to feast on. Some bruises and teeth marks were still visible on those pale globes though they didn’t detract from their excellent quality as they bounced in Weiss’s face. Dick wedged in between her cheeks as she shook them.
“Turn around. Put your hands on my desk.” Another eerily stoic command from the usually malicious Weiss. Miranda obeyed, already fearful of the turn. Wedging her red marked ass still draped in lingerie around Weiss’s shaft and holding onto the desk. Her arms shook subtly in dreaded anticipation. ”Miranda you really do have the fattest ass on this ship.” Weiss put her hands on the aforementioned, lightly caressing where her panties didn’t cover.
“T-thank you Captain?”
“Shut up. Just keep rubbing your ass on my dick and look at the screens“
Miranda complied. Soundly moving her ass up and down Weiss, perfect cheeks rubbing against that dick, still slathered in the dried in juices from the last rape and now rubbing that against the thin piece of lace that covered Miranda’s cunt. Still Miranda kept working herself up and down.
The three monitors in front of her was switched on to security footage, a full left to right preview of the sufferings of the other crew members: Gabrilla still sprawled out on the floor of the engineering bay, looking half dead as she laid there, semen leaking out in into a small puddle at this point and face-down heaving, all her intelligence or knowledge Weiss just more confidence to beat and mark as her own, engineer left to ruminate in the raped puddle unable to move, another Cerberus asset to rape. Next was Kasumi, the elusive thief left hogtied to the floor, limber asian body left to limply lie in her restraint the results of one too many failed escape attempts, all her sneaking ahead just resulted in a paltry game of hide and seek that always ended in anguishing rape, her next escape act being how to escape those ropes that bound her before her rapist came, an impossible task to her torment. The camera as limited as its angle was, captured every tortuous cycle of Kasumi’s struggles before exhaustively sobbing there. Next though was the most broken of them, Jack.
The Biotic was huddled into the same corner Weiss had repeatedly raped her into, the scars still clawed into the walls and her. No traces left of the rival rough harsh speaking woman Miranda had once squabbled with, that had been destroyed and now Weiss was keen to salt the ground. Even Miranda’s act of mercy turnt against the Biotic, only spotting the black jacket after a second glance at Jack’s ass there it leaked out like a tail, the rest of it cruelly shoved in that stretched out ass dried cum still stained across it and the floor of fluids, entirely composed of tears and semen.
“W-what did you-” Miranda almost let out her horrified whisper before Weiss spanked her ass once again, replacing it quickly with a performative moan. Her acting obviously paper-thin.
“Do you like it Miranda. I’ve decided to promote you since you like to meddle with my toys so now you won’t feel so left out from your dear comrades” Weiss’s mocking voice rang out. “You get to sit here and watch while I rape and torture all of them, again and again, without your pathetic interference. That’s your new report ‘executive officer’. I expect it everyday, written out and given to me ‘personally’.”
“Y-You m-monster, w-w-why?” This time it spilled out, barely audible, Miranda’s horror snuck out from that mask of pleasure she wore. Weiss noticed. Her next slap the harshest hardest yet, impacting directly against her precious pussy like a vicious punt.
“What was that! That didn’t really sound like a report Miranda! C’mon aren’t you some genetic sexdoll or whatever. Give me a report on the women I’ve raped. With details.”
Weiss didn’t care for having a willing beautiful woman like Miranda quite literally rubbing her ass against her cock. No, Miranda realised the obvious truth she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. That Weiss really was a pure-blooded sadist. It didn’t matter how many times Miranda cooed and moaned for her, bounced on her dick like a whore and licked her boots. Weiss would always want more from her. Yet Miranda couldn’t stop the act now. It was the only thing she had left even if every word felt like poison, she was still in a better position than anyone else on the Normandy. And she was scared to join them.
“ J-J-I mean Subject Zero was raped in the engineering bay. She hasn't moved from there since you first raped her there. Y-you give her food and water, make her depend on you when you arrive, force her to eat even if it means shoving it down her throat then washing it down your dick. You’ve made her a prisoner in her body and mind. “
“Hahaha. Great, great, now what do you think I should do next then? ” Her laughter dug into her mind, her grope somehow feeling colder, rougher with every word she spoke. The threat behind all of them is unspoken but completely overwhelming for Miranda.
“You-you could let me at her. “ Miranda said hopeful the tears in her eyes didn’t show; not that that would discourage Weiss. “She’s vulnerable and I’ve softened her up for you. Subject Zero could remember me as her one ally, only to get betrayed. Then… I can fuck her for you.” Her words tried to spin her past altruism in Weiss’s view as excuses, perverting them into any opportunity if only Miranda had the mind to imagine how to. Nevertheless Weiss was amused, laughing again as she spoke.
“Well done Slut for brains. That sounds just delectable. We’ll stage you giving old Zero some more moronic gifts before hatching a brave escape plan, all the way to the escape pod. Where you’ll rape her with the biggest strap-on I can find. Give that bitch an anal ripping until she’ll be begging for my touch. Like you’ve always wanted to, right Miranda? “
“R-right…rape that bitch…yeah…I-I have always wanted to.”
Miranda just nodded along to Weiss making her a traitor. She was the nicest person on the ship. The one person that actually tried to help the rest of them and Weiss was going to make her Jack, betray all of them, her friends, comrades, all for entertainment. Bury her good deeds under a storm of evil until they cursed her name with Weiss’s. A sadistic game Miranda couldn’t understand with all her brilliant intellect. Just that Weiss was making her an active partner in crime, else she’d be put down with them.
“Kasumi, you chased down the ships. She always tried to run until you got tired of that and left her bound. You rape her while she’s struck. Keep her in bondage to mock all her skills as one of the most vied for thieves, now just a convenient hole to rape when you see fit, her face so carefully hidden revealed in tears and agony.” Miranda took a breath. Her words stroked Weiss’s ego while she kept stroking her cock in a sensorial assjob many would have dreamed about . Desperate to appease her now in this cruel game: “She used to have a lover, a man, I-I can send you his file. Kasumi still keeps some heirlooms of him and she’s still straight. Her cloak tech was also well known so you could use that to sneak up on the c-cunt…Then rape and torment her with the knowledge she failed her love.”
While she spoke Miranda tried to keep her voice straight, attempting to stem the anguish in her voice until it came out almost robotic though the contrast seemed to be enough for Weiss. Now moving herself up and down against her rear, the shaft stroking itself up the thin fabric there.
“Gabrilla was one of the most talented people on this ship. You raped her all the same- a-as is your right Captain. Without her partner she’s harmless, weak, just a docile maintenance worker but she’s just another toy for you. She only joined because of her partner.”
“Joined what?”
“C-Cerberus.” She relented immediately. Gabrilla even as modest and low down she was on the Normandy was here and raped all the same, no point hiding what Weiss could yank out of her. “Y-you could offer to go easy on her, trick her into raping herself or others for you. She would do anything to end it. She’s weak and malleable for you to do anything you wanted with her.”
Once Miranda was done demeaning her allies Weiss moved her panties out of the way, leaving her dick to slap against those dry lips and tight asshole. Dry and unaroused as always, despite Miranda’s wishes. Weiss was pretty, young and vigorous, all things that should’ve at least triggered some sort of bodily arousal to her touch. Yet no matter when or where there was never any pleasure to cloud her shame.
Even far away from the view of the three defiled women, back in the past when Miranada was straddling Weiss in her own bed: Riding atop her dick, all too be aware of the age difference between the time, experience difference and morality difference. Nothing could hide the fact back then that she was pleasing the Normandy's rapist, placating her with faked moans, rolling her hips to best hug her cock in the tight cunt she’d had that was perfectly curated to continue her father’s work. Miranda’s seductions may have worked to keep her position but they could never trick her body. Sex would always be harsh, painful and punishment from Weiss. Nothing Miranda did would ever change that.
Weiss not wasting any time before spearing herself inside her pussy. That place which was supposed to spawn the Lawson dynasty in a twisted sense of irony getting its deserving mate; a genuine royal, raping her way inside. That thick cock battering its way through her vaginal canal like it had every woman on board, the newest one squeal and groaning like them all the same. All its heavy inches forced inside and then pounded into her like a hammer to nail, clapping against her arse all the while that humiliating sound mixed in with her groans.
There were no other detailed thoughts that could’ve pierced Miranda’s mind while it was in that maelstrom of rape. Her surface-level differences to the others meaning nothing when Weiss simply wanted to fuck her. Weiss’s cock even having slathered in and drilled into every pussy on board, never lost its power or lacked in stamina like its owner. All too happy to push herself inside Miranda’s brutalised pussy, already red and sore from the first rapid thrusts inside. The past aches from the past rapes never given time to heal and no balms of semen would ever help.
All Miranda could do was hold onto her desk for dear life, keep her legs spread and standing no matter how weak and punctured they were, and attempt to withstand her pounding without giving Weiss an excuse to make it worse: The slight makeup she did already falling with her tears, dying as her seduction attempts, her hair becoming a frazzled mess as it was jostled around and her voice broken down into undignified groans, both high-pitched and guttural.
Her collar tightened again, its leash appearing in Weiss’s hands once again who pulled it back, yanking Miranda’s neck back brutally, forcing her to crane her head up to reduce the choking friction afforded to her. Even then, Miranda could only crane her neck and by consequence her back up so high, at the highest she could bend it the leash still pressed against her throat. Weiss free to pull back further to choke her. Which she did. Watching as the brilliant Miranda Lawson choked and begged while she was getting her pussy pounded, her fine tits lifted up above her desk at the entrance to the room(her bra torn aside) and her ass desperately rolled side to side in some desperate move to please her. Almost choking Miranda out. Before letting go. Miranda left crashing against the desk, coughing and gasping for air.
“Pathetic. I expected more from my Executive officer where’s all that enthusiasm you had before. Didn’t you say to me you'd ‘do anything’ to keep your position, now look at you, even weaker than the Alien scum on board.” Weiss shamelessly said in between groans of pleasure as if to mock the pain her victim was feeling. Her words referring to a plea Miranda had made before a reminder on how foolish she had been in the past.
Even still Miranda answered by pushing her hips back against that lightning rod of a dick, tightening the already tight grip of her pussy on that dick. Weiss’s laughter proof she’d done the right thing. With her hips following behind Weiss’s thrusts her dick reached further, impacted harder and scratched against more of her even while Weiss choked her again, indulging in the ‘perfect’ human trying her best to appease her.
“There you go! I knew all that money your daddy pumped into you went to something! Oh fuck yeah! Work yourself for my Cum, princess! Come on!” Weiss shouted as she came.
Pulling Miranda’s leash back while she pumped semen into that fucked raw cunt, choking that icequeen without mercy until she emptied all her seed inside her. Long moments struck there, rammed completely inside while Miranda choked, silencing whatever sobs shivered through her, feeling that familiar semen despoil her pristine(genetically at least) twat, seep into those wounds it had made, nerves it had battered into submission and surround any eggs left in her womb- a fact that would’ve made Miranda shiver if she weren’t feeling like she was choking to death.
Only when Weiss drained her cock, filled Miranda repeatedly with every drop of royal seed, did she let go. Miranda crashed against the desk, half-comatose, gasping for air like a lot of Weiss’s victims did. Lying there while the semen dribbled out- until Weiss crudely slid her panties back over her holes. A stain of semen drenching them but otherwise keeping the flow inside just in case Miranda weren’t fully embedded with her seed. Though her disgust was mired by a quantitative excessive of anguish she was under but with no power to act on it culminating in one simple expression ‘submission’.
Yet rather than leave Miranda alone to stew in this agony Weiss got up from the chair and walked to the other side of the desk where Miranda’s head hang off of it, her face’s tears dripping up her upside down face destroying completely that mask of seduction she’d worn to reveal her true eyes. Pupil’s staring up at Weiss in a cold pained fury- which made it even sweeter once Miranda noticed her dick was still hard.
Those furious eyes immediately breaking to a submissive plea, a perfect picture of a despairing whore- Miranda’s new state of being. It now only taking a slap to the face before she opened her mouth. Weiss slid her dick into that open mouth right after Miranda's obediently cleaning of the cock.
Nothing feeling better to Weiss than having some proud woman polish her cock of the juices she’d raped into her. Forced to open her lips and take that same shaft inside her just choked out throat, gagging from the grotesque taste. Drool left to seep out down with her tears as Weiss pushed inside. Inches cruelly shoved inside, through that tight genetic throat. Miranda’s half-conscious gags the only sign of life she offered while Weiss fucked her throat open, moaning out the deeper she went, the tighter the caress of her throat became, the more Miranda gasped for air from every thrust of the painful deep-throat fucking.
Sure Weiss could rape the throat of any other bitches but none of them had that delicate touch or engineered mind to actually pleasure her. Miranda(so far anyway) the only one that would try and pleasure her. Even now after having her cunt brutalised Weiss felt her favourite cock-sucker start to desperately pleasure her cock despite it still tempting her throughly ravaged gag reflex.
Having that once so dignified and confident woman now sucking on the cock that choked her, that battered her breath as it did her cunt, perfectly stroked Weiss. Another bruised hole for defiling, its owner submitting meekly beneath her, sucking her no matter when she rammed herself completely inside and when Weiss’s cock throbbed in an all too familiar rhyme. Miranda’s tears obviously not just out of gagging and choking.
“Choke it down! Eat that fucking Semen like its your last meal!”
Weiss finishing inside her with a cry, dick lodged inside that throat once more choking Miranda under the newest cum injection. Straight through her pried open mouth into her stomach. Another thick load of semen pumped into the once so dignified woman, gargling as it was stuffed down her, choking around it and that hard shaft. Fading while her air-way was blocked by semen yet only able to beg with her eyes for mercy from Weiss, while she was deprived of breath.
Only when Weiss had flooded Miranda’s throat with her second load completely did she pull out, slowly retracting herself out, enjoying the feel of Miranda’s throat and struggling all the way until her head plopped out of Miranda’s mouth, to a litany of coughs that splattered the white stuff over her ruined face and practically nude fine body.
‘Punished’ beyond doubt in Miranda’s mind, her new job forced onto her to watch rapes helplessly and raped herself until the rim of death, to Weiss though…She was just getting started.
“Wake up, saggy tits! I didn’t tell you to stop, did I! “ Weiss once again conjured the leash and choked Miranda with it. “Unless of course you're disobeying me!” Miranda shook her head desperately, all her wit and composure destroyed under such painful assaults and Weiss’s smirk only helped to increase this mewling submissive creature Miranda was now.
The heiress walked back round between her legs. Briefly pondering whether to fuck Miranda’s ass before realising her drool covered cock would’ve made it even slightly less painful than pounding that abused cunt more. A dark idea in her mind as she did so(like the rest of them. Weiss turned the screens onto the next panels: Samara still spread out on the library desk shivering alongside Tali and Liara’s official mugshot photos. Before pounding herself once again into Miranda.
“Bitch! Report now! Tell me everything you know about these cunts and your ‘recommended actions’!”
Miranda didn’t have a choice by this, she never did. Soon enough her voice trailed whatever information she had on them, words scared by pathetic screams and her recently fucked throat; however she still tried to dirty-talk her crewmates if only to not suffer anymore. The fact that Weiss was probably fantasing about them even while she raped her was barely an afterthought as she spoke:
“S-Samara, I-I told you before has two daughters, the third one died, they’re all Ardat-Yakshi, so you’d have to get creative to r-rape them. W-wait she was also a pirate ages ago, has a home you can burn down. ” Miranda first talked about Samara, grasping at whatever straws she hadn’t already taken when Weiss had first ‘asked’ about the justice. “M-Maybe you should neuter their abilities first, cut away their powers then rape them as they flail around in fear. A-and maybe pierce their faces like the c-cattle they are! ” Even the second time around made Miranda feel like the lowest traitor.
“The Quarian Ta-tali is-” Miranda spoke at that decent portrait, trying to ignore the grim omen that Tali wasn't able to be shown on board or that Weiss didn’t want her to see; nonetheless Miranda screamed out details about Tali and the Quarian specimens. “-Like all weak Quarian she needs her mask and suit though with the right encouragement she can survive multiple uses. Y-You could-”
Miranda repeated the same facts about the Quarian everyone knew especially Weiss, Miranda only adding ways to fuck that wallflower without a care to the end of it. The cerberus officer barely able to recite basic facts- the best she could do while being fucked, shrieking out her answers while being raped again. New details of Tali’s past retched up like the semen in her throat, ‘her family’, ‘father’, the migrant fleet and her religious pursuits all twisted to suit Weiss now as rape dress-setting- not that she needed some.
“Liara….AGH- LIARA IS-”
The last secret, the last damning piece of information that Weiss would need to place their old Commander under her control. And it was screamed out while Weiss came inside her…
///
Miranda’s desk was still sodden with a layer of rape juices: an deprived mix of tears, drool and Weiss’s cum, only displaced where Weiss had thrown her down onto it and rubbed it into her yesterday. Yet even now Miranda couldn’t bring herself to clean it. Watching through the layer of filth at the camera’s Weiss had commanded her to look through.
Jack was still huddled in her corner, freshly raped, but this time she huddled around a small gift, white lacy schnee-branded panties from Miranda’s closet. That small gesture had been enough to send Jack into another fit of tears, thankful this time, for the single piece of clothing she could wear despite how stained they seemed to be.
Practically cooing when Miranda had fed her some food and water. Enough that for a moment Jack had returned, speaking with Miranda for a short while, her words even now engraved into her mind: ‘I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you Miranda. ‘Cheerleader’, God if I had known you’d be the toughest out of all of us. ” Jack had laughed then, a bitter choking thing. “Listen, when we get off this ship I’ll do anything for and with you alright. I promise you Miranda. I’ll remember this forever.” If only Miranda weren’t counting the days when she’d have to bury that Jack.
Meanwhile Kasumi and Gaby had been moved. Lugged inside a closet when the former had failed to escape again. Both of them laid across each other in a ‘69’ position, mouths over each other's pussy’s with Kasmui on the bottom squashed underneath the pert engineer and forced against the stake rammed into her ass. The ‘stake’ being a dildo that lived up to its namesake of course. Shoved cruelly inside where Weiss had kicked it in, stuffing her cum inside with it until it was now cold viscious inside Kasumi’s asshole, stirred up by the shocks. Miranda watching as another sent the thief into a spasm. Electric frying her up the entire ribbed dildo in her ass, a reminder of her failure to escape now and then.
Gaby, herself as dismal as she was, kept Kasumi down, muffling her screams with her pussy, wiping the former’s tears with her folds, desperate to not feel Weiss’s wrath for herself. If Kasumi got out of the closet Gaby would be punished and that was enough for her to hold down the restrained thief, even if it meant listening to her sobs and pleas. Miranda watched: taking notes of how well Gaby was doing, recording the flaws and failures to follow Weiss’s every command, ‘lick the cunt ahead of you’, wasn't just referring to Kasumi- or maybe it did at the time,
Weiss didn’t care about how fair her punishments were and thus Miranda couldn’t either. No matter how much she hated it. She couldn’t even help this time, balm that overwhelming guilt in her mind with merciful though meaningless gestures other than Weiss’s own. The heiress had known- no, she’d always known of her meddlings and just made sure Miranda suffered even more. There was no point anymore, not if Miranda wanted to survive as herself, give her no more excuses to make things worse. A cowardly thought but the only one she still had left even though it dug out her soul.
She worked and worked and worked in this cruel parody of her job(naked of course). At least then she wouldn’t have to think about the cruel future and the cruel past. For now she was safe, as long as she didn’t check there was no chance of it being worse. Work this job that she hated for a woman she despised. The lingering regret at the back of her head like a thumping headache all the while.
Miranda knew she shouldn’t have even done that test, it was a mistake, there was nothing good that would’ve come from it, yet- she had done it and she couldn’t even stay to see the result. Negative or positive, she didn’t want to know- no she dreaded to know. She should’ve just ignored her sickness this morning, it was nothing, just her body reacting naturally to being raped all night long- yet she didn’t.
It was now a thought at the back of her mind, a distortion of a dream she’d once had, far away from her father. The kind of dream Weiss would’ve stomped out if she’d have known. A seeping dread at what she’d thrown away in the bathroom, a reminder of one of the last questions she’d had at the back of her inquisitive mind: ‘There were no contraceptives on board the Normandy. She keeps fucking us…What happens after?’
She’d held out hope that maybe there were injections they had taken before which rendered them infertile for a while, nanomachines that Weiss controlled, drugs the heiress was taking, pills or something-anything to stop that seed from taking root. ‘After all Weiss couldn’t fuck pregnant slaves’…Miranda hated that she couldn’t answer that question or that entire line of questioning. A vulnerability in her soul harsher than any bullet wound. Though maybe if she incensed her enough in ‘work’ it would disappear. Wallow in the misery of others suffering and record them for their universal mistress, try and forget that test she’d done in a moment of madness.
Knock Knock
“Well well, how’s my little genetic Sextoy?” She turnt to Weiss leant against the door frame(any privacy of course removed). Horrified. “Anything out of the ordinary?” Miranda shivered from the venom spat at her. The woman in question saunters over, pants left open leaving her cock hanging, still dripping with the fluids of the last unfortunate woman. Weiss stops before Miranda, shocked, sits there.
“N-No mistress.” Miranda whispered, trying to bring her face into that mockery of a seductive grin but nothing could’ve stopped the tremble in her voice and the fear in her eyes, grin more like a terrified parody of one with the terror and dread that consumed her; just like Weiss liked. Despite this the cerberus agent still placed her lips on Weiss’s tip, giving it a kiss before trailing her tongue across this shaft, lightly cleaning it of that still warm rape cum and fluids then wrapping her lips around its head, suckling at it before lurching herself up down its length, deep enough to reach for its foot.
Though Weiss had something else in mind. “That’s a shame. Your father is an important man after all, not like you useless bitch. He’d pay an awful lot for a baby.” Miranda gagged. Instinctively pushing out but stopped by Weiss’s hands holding her there, struck impaled on her shaft as Weiss delivered the words Miranda feared the most. “I mean a child between the Lawson and the Schnee legacy- he’d wonder how you managed to bag such a catch- hehe. Though I somehow doubt he’d mention his new heir is a rape baby in the papers. Think about that all those years you’d spent running away, rebelling against daddy only to be raped right back into his lap breed like a mule, all those moronic dreams of escaping, living your own life- gone in an instant. Sank back to the one place you were born to be, a breeding sack for your father and now me.” Weiss finally lifted Miranda off, freeing her mouth to cough miserably; she knew what this was leading to. “Unless of course that test you took back there was the truth.”
Miranda screamed a terrible scream. The rattling attacks on her psyche enough to even break down that slight bit of dignity she had left. Followed by a sobbing wail. Her greatest fears birthed on the death of her dreams(or whatever remained at this point). Composure. Miranda by instinct flailed out of Weiss’s grip, crawling as fast as possible away- before the collar activated. The shocks frying her tears almost as much as it hurt inside. Left spasming there in pain, the tears streaming down her face ruining that light bit of makeup Weiss forced her to do, her messy hair then grabbed by Weiss, lifting the rest of her limp body up.
“Aww c’mon on Miranda where’s that bitch who messed with my toys before. ‘That cold Ice-queen’. Don’t tell me you're afraid of a baby. I’m sure daddy left your body some nice ‘gifts’ to handle a little bit of pregnancy. And when that day arrives where your cheerleader body is ready to give birth to my beautiful baby heir, after you’ve screamed out your throat sore and that baby is sent off for you to never see again. I’ll play it back for you. As training for the next one.”
As she finished Weiss dropped Miranda, leaving her to sob into herself, pathetically balled up on the ground in some primal way to protect against this horrific attack on the self. The violations were bad enough but this…
Weiss’s revenge for even slightly daring to oppose her or just another sadistic whim. Mad sentences, barely being able to be deciphered from her wails, spilled out. “W-why? Why are you doing this to me? I-I’m sorry, W-Mistress I’m sorry! Please whatever it is you want please? Why a-are you doing this to- me?” she whispered to herself, half begging, half praying.
“‘Why’, because I can you useless bitch.” Weiss matter-factly said, shoving her shoe into Miranda’s mouth and letting her shine it with her tongue.
That once so proud and mighty woman just cleaning the shoe without any complaints only sobs. None of her intelligence or biological prowess in her eyes. Just a deep-seated fear for Weiss and a hatred for herself, for thinking she was better, for not being an obedient slut at the start, for not kissing Weiss’s shoes when she first saw her. Though these all eventually mixed into a one simple expression- despair. At this hell which had burnt all her dreams to the ground, broken her down in every way and at that baby which was growing in Miranda Lawson Ex Cerberus agent’s womb.,.
///
The tapes ended on that frame of Miranda’s face. Her tongue froze, licking Weiss’s boot and her face pulled into a macabre display of utmost despair. All slivers of dignity, intelligence and most importantly resistance dribbled over that dress shoe in her mouth, leaving nothing left of Miranda inside.
And when they over Shepard felt its grip over her limbs vanish. That spell akin to watching a car crash kept her there despite the complicated slurry of emotions inside, that cooled into one singular word ‘hate’. She had hated every hour, minute, second of that video of a rich sadistic bitch ruining what she’d built and most importantly the people she cared about: Miranda’s dignified slyness, Jack’s rough edges, Kasumi’s kleptomania, Kelly’s reason and Gabby’s smarts. All destroyed under Weiss.
And once that spell was broken. Shepard screamed in rage.
She channeled her agony, anger, guilt and sadness with a soldier’s composure. Immediately diving into action- then hit a wall. She was still trapped, still struck under house arrest with no contacts or methods to even escape, still unable to do anything. Except now she knew the horrors that were happening beyond these four walls and could do nothing about it. No matter how hard she banged at the doors or screamed at them as if those hated feelings would tear them down. It didn’t. Eventually slumping down to the floor in defeat. She sat there. Raging at first, cursing to herself like she did when she was younger and less mature. Before
Vows to take out ‘Weiss spat out’, the name enough to make her head boil. Everything she’d built, everyone she's gathered, ruined by some rich bitch with a sadistic edge. Enough hate to make even Commander Shepard vow Revenge.
Yet through this haze. In between words of hatred. Shepard felt something even worse- a heat between her legs, a forceful pleasure she’d felt with Liara over her- arousal. While she had been able to ignore as she watched her crew be raped, now Shepard was left with a a forbidden heat that made her feel as guilty as it was pleasurable. It was a challenge itself to not creep her hands under her sweat pants and- her shame stopped her from digging that hole, leaving only the guilt and heat to stay. Another thing to hate Weiss for.
After a while she got up to her feet, stumbled over and turnt the TV off, limber limbs feeling like dead weight, her actions lost in a daze. She found her way back to the abandoned box, emptied of all but one thing, an envelope she’d ignored in favour of the grim tapes. Sealed by an alliance captain’s symbol. Now though Shepard ripped the envelope apart to read the paper letter underneath:
‘To Commander Shepard, Sorry for taking a while. I was too busy being trained by our great Captain Weiss to follow through our promise to stay in contact. Though I implore you that as soon as it was possible I requested to send you a letter boasting of how well Captain Weiss is treating us. She helpfully reminded me that letters are too expensive to be wasted on me. Even so she mercifully offered to lend me a package delivery if I filmed and edited some videos for you to show her training techniques. Though she is helping me write this letter since she is so much more educated than a mere scientist.’
There was a smudge after those words though the first or last, seemingly every piece of black text had a smudge or imperfection from the penmanship, a few crossed out words as well like the writer was being led on by whim. The paper itself is stained by the stain of teardrops, old and new.
‘Captain Weiss is by far the best leader Normandy has ever seen. She has dealt with the extreme attitude problems the crew had and reduced costs by removing unnecessary staff. The Normandy has never run so smoothly and more efficiently under her wise care. I hope you meet her one day, if only to learn under her wise and strong hands as I am now.’
If Shepard ever met the bitch she’d rip her head off.
‘Though she has offered to send another package detailing my training if you’d follow her reasonable request located at the back of this letter. She has even hinted to me personally Shepard that she may be willing to meet you if you show your proper respects to the true captain of the Normandy through this request and all others sent forth.
From Liara T’Soni’
After the letter sign off there was a blue kiss mark, like the lipstick Liara wore in that photo. Though she kept pushing to read the piece of tiny text on the bottom, written with another cheaper pen like Liara had quicker added it when she was out of sight:
‘Please Jane just do what she says. If you're obedient she’ll slip up. Give us a chance. We’re not broken yet. You just need to be obedient for now please.’
Then it ended.
On the back was a disgusting request, detailed instructions on how to entrap another, abuse her position as Commander Shepard to get another woman under Weiss’s thumb. An offer she’d rather die than do if Liara’s final words didn’t sound true to her. The kind of words that spoke of not being broken despite suffering under Weiss’s thick ego. That they would escape if given the chance.
So despite her reservations Shepard put aside her hatred for now. If it was to give Liara and the rest of her crew the chance to give back an inch of the pain Weiss had inflicted she would happily play the trained dog no matter how much it degraded her or how much she hated it, Shepard can push through, she believed it. After all, the women of the Normandy weren’t broken yet. Just one chance is all they needed. One more tape.
According to Liara’s words anyway…