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Making A Mistake	By : NakedOwlMan Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 33872 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Mass Effect and all the characters in it are owned by people that are not me. I have not made a cent off this work of fiction

Chapter List
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Fic written in response to challenge on Mass Effect Kink Meme (http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/2790.html?thread=4516070#t4516070)

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Turning around, Miranda stared over her shoulder into the mirror, at the swirling design that was now permanently etched across her lower back. "Crazy," she said to herself. "You're completely crazy."

She still wasn't sure what had possessed her to do it in the first place. The concept of tattoos had never really interested her; it seemed a needless and foolish custom, performed by uncivilized individuals like the dangerous psychopath still taking up residence in the lower levels of the ship. Someone like her, Miranda Lawson, didn't do such things to her body.

But then again, it wasn't really her body, was it? Everything about her, every last strand of her DNA, was genetically engineered by her father. Maybe this was her way of reclaiming it, she rationalized. Of painting graffiti over his prized work of art, putting her own stamp of ownership on his creation.

Or maybe she was just bored. Ever since Diana Shepard had brought them back through the Omega 4 relay, things had been relatively quiet throughout the galaxy. Well, apart from Shepard installing Liara T'Soni as the new Shadow Broker, of course. Shepard, Liara, and Jack had gained access to the Broker's ship, eliminated him, and T'Soni had taken his position without anybody being the wiser. A great accomplishment, to be sure, and one that be quite useful in the future struggles against the Reapers. But Miranda had never quite understood why Shepard had chosen Jack, of all people, to come along on that mission. Yes, it had been successful, but surely someone like herself, a strong tactical mind in addition to being a capable biotic, would have been a far better choice than that unstable...

"Dammit," Miranda cursed under her breath, turning away from the mirror. Why did that sociopath keep springing to her mind lately? Even as she had entered the tattoo parlor on Omega, she had thought about the crude symbols and pictures drawn across every inch of the insane biotic's skin. Miranda had resolved herself that, if she was going to do something this impetuous, that the design would be something beautiful, not the jagged scribbles Jack had wrapped around her bare, exposed flesh...

Shaking her head, Miranda sighed. It was late, and her mind went to strange places when she was tired. She sat down on the side of her bed and was about ready to pull the covers over her body when a melodic chime rang through her quarters.

"What in the..." Miranda muttered, pressing a button on her side table. "Who's there?" she stated into the intercom.

There was no response. The chime rang again. "Identify yourself," Miranda said into the intercom, but again received no response.

A sense of disquiet, irrational but there, ran through Miranda. It couldn't be an intruder, she thought to herself. If there was any sort of security breach on the ship, EDI would have certainly notified her. With a sign of frustration, Miranda threw on a robe over her naked body and marched over to the door to her quarters.

And the last person she wanted to see was on the other side of the door as it slid open.

"Jack, what in God's name are you..."

Before she could react, Jack reached up with a small metal device and pressed a button. And then Miranda's mind went blank.

* * *

Smiling wickedly, Jack strolled around Miranda, who was now standing stock still in her doorway, eyes vacant.

"Shut the door, would ya?" she said. Slowly, without seeming to consciously think about it, Miranda reached up and hit the button to slide the metal door shut. After hitting the button, her hand hung in the air, Miranda still staring at the shut door in front of her without a trace of emotion on her face.

The bald, tattooed criminal strutted around Miranda's quarters, her eyes scanning over the former Cerberus officer's backside like a beast on the prowl. "Take off your robe, bitch," Jack said, "Let me see if you passed my little test."

Without a word of protest, Miranda let the soft wool robe fall to the floor, exposing her nude body. As soon as Jack saw the tattoo above Miranda's ass, she let out a sharp, triumphant laugh. "Oh, cheerleader, we're going to have so much fun now!"

Jack looked down at the device in her hand. It didn't look like anything remarkable, just a small metal box with a few buttons and two metal prongs jutting out of the end. But when she'd found it on the Shadow Broker's ship, near where they'd found the fucked up drell, she'd sensed that it was something important. Before Shepard and her girlfriend the asari could see what she was up to, Jack had pocketed the device and the datapad that had been placed nearby.

The datapad had proven to be very interesting reading. Once Jack had puzzled her way through most of the technical details, she had determined that the device was used to shut down the conscious mind of anyone it was used on. Once this was done, the subconscious mind would be brought forward, and the device's user could plant suggestions into the mind of the victim without them even knowing.

To put it in terms Jack could understand, a high-tech hypnotism device.

From what that huge motherfucking beast the Broker had written in his notes, he was planning to use the device on Feron to have him draw Liara into a trap. But for some reason, it seemed that the device had limited to no effect on drell. The Broker had been planning to test it on some other species in the near future, but Shepard and Liara kinda fucked up those plans by making him good and dead.

Jack had never been much for scientific pursuits, but the possibilities of the device were obvious even to her. It didn't take long for her to determine her first test subject. Miranda might have been quits with Cerberus, but she had still been their running dog for years, and Jack figured she deserved the proper punishment. And if the thing ended up blowing her head up or turning her into a vegetable... hey, no big loss.

But it had worked. Several weeks ago, Jack had come calling late at night and zapped Miranda with the device. Immediately, the curse that had been on the cheerleader's lips fell silent, and her face and body went limp. To make sure, Jack had slapped Miranda's face as hard as she could; the bitch didn't even flinch. Just like now, she was like a robot that had been completely shut down, just waiting for a command from its master.

And Jack's next command tonight was the same one she'd given the first night and every other night up to this point. Her second test to see just how well the device worked.

Strolling over to Miranda's desk, Jack unhooked her belt and let her pants slide to the floor. Turning around, she hoisted her bare ass up onto the surface and spread her tattooed legs wide.

"Eat me out, bitch," Jack commanded.

Walking sluggishly over, Miranda crouched down in front of Jack. Without hesitation, she leaned her head down to Jack's crotch. Her tongue slowly ran up Jack's labia, already damp with the thoughts of the amusements to be had tonight, before flicking across her swollen clit. In her current state, Miranda's oral attentions were skillful but slow, and it would take a good while before she managed to make Jack cum.

And Jack wouldn't have it any other way.

When she had first realized that the device gave her complete control over Miranda, a thousand different ideas for humiliating and/or harming her came to mind. But for once, she realized that this was a situation where she needed to keep a cool head. If she was too blatant, Shepard or somebody else on the ship might get wind of what Jack was doing, and then the fun would be over, and she'd probably end up kicked off the Normandy or, even worse, back into another hell-hole like Purgatory.

So the first few nights, she had done nothing more than forced the stuck-up little bitch to service her like her own personal sex slave. That first night, Jack had instructed Miranda to forget everything that had happened since before Jack had visited, and sure enough, the next day Miranda had given no indication that she'd even seen Jack that night, much less gone diving headfirst into her snatch.

The next thing to find out, Jack decided, was to see if she could give Miranda instructions to carry out while out of the device's trance. While Miranda licked and sucked, Jack came up with a few simple suggestions. That Miranda would feel incredibly thirsty anytime Jack said "water." The next day, she'd tested it out in the mess hall and watched Miranda down five cans of Tupari within the span of three minutes. That if Jack said "flea," Miranda's ass would start itching. Watching the stuck-up bitch squirm in her seat while Shepard discussed the latest findings from the Shadow Broker's file, it was all Jack could do to stifle her laughter.

And then came the big test. To instruct Miranda to do something she'd never even consider doing on her own. It didn't take long to come up with it. Looking past Miranda's bobbing head, Jack stared at the evidence of her success drawn across Miranda's back. A delicate, flowery design in bright reds and greens... fuck, even getting inked, she was still the perfect little princess. Still, the thrill of her success brought Jack's orgasm sooner than expected, and she let out a load gasp as she felt her release, her juices dribbling down Miranda's chin.

"Stop," Jack said, as Miranda would have kept licking forever if she hadn't been instructed not to. "Stand up straight." Miranda obeyed. Pulling her pants back on, Jack began pacing around Miranda, taking in every curve of her perfect little cheerleader body.

"You should be grateful, you know," Jack said. "If I wanted to, I could tell you to go walk out an airlock right now, or put a pistol in your mouth and pull the trigger, and you'd do it, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Miranda said, without emotion.

Jack grinned. "But you know what? Maybe it's Shepard's goody-two-shoes influence on me, but I'm going to do you a favor. The biggest favor I've ever done for anyone in my life. So you should probably thank me for that."

"Thank you."

"Good," Jack said. "Now, we're going to have to take this nice and slow. Can't have anybody suspecting anything, it's gotta look like these are all your own decisions. So, here's what you're going to do for me now."

Jack gave her instructions, the first steps in the personality she had planned for her nemesis. After every instruction, she prompted Miranda if she understood. "Yes," came the response every time. No matter how outlandish or extreme the suggestions, "yes" was the answer.

"Now that that's all worked out," Jack said, "two minutes after I walk out of this door, you'll wake up out of your trance, and forget I was ever here. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"God, I can't wait until I'm finished," Jack said with an evil smile, as she reached a hand to grab at Miranda's backside. "Fuck all that poetry bullshit. You, precious, are going to be my real work of art.” Giving Miranda's ass a hard slap on her way out, Jack opened the door and practically skipped to the elevator back to her corner of the ship.

* * *

Shaking her head, Miranda sighed. It was late, and her mind went to strange places when she was tired. She sat down on the side of her bed and let out a surprised gasp. There was a sudden pain in her left buttock, and Miranda rubbed at the sore spot. Where had that come from? Even as she noticed it, though, it started to dull and eventually fade away. Shaking her head, Miranda pulled the covers over herself and began to drift off to sleep.

Her last thought before sleep overtook her was wondering again about the strange taste in her mouth, the same one that had been there the last few nights too...
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Making A Mistake