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The Justicar's Dog of War	By : Doirly_No Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 55028 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“You sure you’re strong enough for this, ma’am?” the question sarcastic.
“I have been strong enough since before your people had firearms,” said with half a grin.
Joking aside, their final preparation made, the operation began. Within the following twenty minutes the contact was met and the Justicar was led to the last hotel before the city line. At the backdoor a hired, asari thug joined her escort. Twice in the intervening trip to their seedy destination the matriarch warned the two not to stand too close and despite being criminals they still held enough reverence for the noble calling, so indeed backed off.
The basic, hotel room was as to be expected; no windows, bathroom to the left, the main space split in two and stains applied liberally all around. The number of gang members was four more than expected however. Besides the two that came in with her, she could hear someone using the facilities, six hanging around the dual beds with pill bottles and weapons strewn about, and in the rear were another four. Every one of them an asari save the nude, turian prostitute nuzzling the jaw line of the boss on the couch in the back.
The violet, matron leader started, “Greetings Justicar, I am Nax. To what do I own the pleasure of your exalted presence?”
“I require the location of your hallex supplier,” Samara stated.
“Now why would I tell you that?” the cocky criminal asked.
The amateurish show of power left the veteran Justicar unphased. “Why is of no concern, you simply will.”
“Hmmm,” Nax pretended to consider as she drew little circles on the metallic back next to her. “I dunno, what is in it for me?”
Samara then noticed the nerves ravaging the face to the far left. “You, maiden, do you know where the hallex is produced?”
The matron’s veneer of competence broke and she spat, “Hey, I’m in charge here.”
“Answer me.” Samara ignored the fool.
“I… I…” was all she gave besides panicked eyes, but it was enough.
“I’m tired of this,” Nax tried to reassert herself. “I only allowed you here to ambush you anyway...”
“She’s the one,” the agent of justice signaled.
Biotics flared, throwing every one of varying levels of guilty into the walls. The cloak dropped as Shepard let go of the Justicar’s back and took her first shots before hitting the ground. The escorts from outside died first to her pistols. Then she spun around to clear out the drugged up six. As she reloaded the goon in the bathroom burst out with a sniper rifle, of all things. Not having the time for new clips, the former commander bum rushed, but only got half way to her foe before a slug whizzed over her shoulder and dropped the ill equipped criminal. The wound wasn’t lethal, but the infiltrator moved to take care of that.
Samara turned back to the still living. The remaining thug pulled a gun, but her arm was bioticly snapped before the trigger pulled; in case the maiden proved uninformed. Nax however, got one between the eyes as soon as she tossed her whore off.
“Where are the drugs produced?” the Justicar asked calmly, but sternly.
Full of terror, the young asari could barely even answer, “I… I… maybe…”
“If you tell me, you will live.”
“But, they’ll kill me.”
“No need to be concerned, none of them will survive their encounter with me.”
Then an unexpected voice chimed in, “I can tell you.”
Samara shifted focus to the turian female. “How would you know?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve partied with them.” The prostitute shamelessly sat splayed.
“If you…” the asari with the broken arm’s last words before Shepard arrived with her pistol.
“Wait!” the last breathing criminal yelled. “I’ll tell you. Let me tell you.”
“You can confirm each other’s stories before I let you go, but be warned: if either of you prove my mercy misplaced, be assured, I will still accomplish my goal and then I will come back for you.”
With the intelligence gathered they gleamed the location of the factory of the fledgling, drug cartel attempting to establish itself on Nevos. With the added information from the turian a means of infiltration became apparent. It seemed that the wannabe syndicate frequented a local, escort service and was always interested in fresh meat, ready to pay a pretty penny on their entertainment. They also didn’t skimp on their defenses. They had moved into an abandoned, raid shelter, hired decent mercenaries including krogans and most importantly had salvaged several turrets.
It would take some time to establish a cover to get in, so the vigilante tandem returned to their ship to rest and plan. Though, Shepard took a detour to buy enough food for the next few days. Along the way she spotted a boutique and thought to get an idea of what she’d wear undercover; if only to brace herself. Looking through the window told her the clothing inside would be too high class, but still she figured it couldn’t hurt to browse.
After her shopping trip Shepard reentered the ship through the primary entrance, rather than the one a deck below used for assaults, though both attach to the same narrow corridor. Carrying four bags of groceries, plus one other, up the metal ladder would have been a major pain. Still she could not avoid descending it to store her weapons, after putting away the food. On the way down she was disappointed to hear the shower turn on.
Ever since leaving Illium Samara had kept a little extra distance. Their whole relationship hinged on the Justicar rationalizing away her actions and outright denying her true feelings. Directly confronting her with it stoked the crisis of faith simmering within her. The matriarch could forsake neither the Code nor Shepard.
The human temptress popped up to the main level, still carrying one parcel and not hearing running water. Now free of her armor she was able to put her collar back where it belonged. With hope swirling around her heart she headed for the bathroom, but it was in the den that she encountered the still nude Justicar. An unreadable stare froze the woman in place for near a minute.
Samara moved first, closing enough of the distance separating them to hook two fingers through the D-ring linked to the collar. None too gently Shepard was yanked, jolting the parcel from her hand, and then dragged along to the bathroom. Her steps awkward and pace forced to the point she nearly fell when passing the sink. With a final jerk she was practically thrown against the rear wall of the shower, the briefest of pains streaked her shoulders. Once her back was firmly planted to the linoleum, the digits at her throat tugged upward to straighten her spine and ensure her eyes would meet the crystal blue orbs of her asari owner.
Samara gave a firm slap between Shepard’s legs. “Take them off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The grip of her collar not relenting, the pinned woman struggled to get her briefs off her hips, so thought giving proper access was all she needed to do and stopped when air brushed lips.
“I said off.” Punctuated with another slap.
Shepard used every tiny fraction of an inch her arms could stretch while being held upright to push the black cloth down. Eventually she had to wiggle and twist her legs this way and that until she finally felt the briefs release, falling to the floor. Just to make sure she then kicked them away.
“I wish to take care of this quickly so I can meditate.” Without further delay Samara’s fingers nimbly found the human’s clitoris.
“You don’t have to, ma’am.”
“I decide what I must do and what you must do.” The matriarch demanded eye contact with only her expression. “And I must do this or you will give me pleading looks the rest of the evening.”
The relentless hand molesting her figuratively and literally drove Shepard up the wall both. She rose off her heels. Lust corrupted her thoughts. Nothing mattered beyond the fingers giving her pleasure. So she wasn’t really thinking when she reached for a blue hip.
It didn’t go unnoticed, not for an instant. “You will keep your hands behind your back.”
Ultimatums and threats weren’t needed; Shepard always followed orders like any good soldier. She dutifully put her palms against the wall and braced to ride things out. Ride she did as the fingers inside her and rubbing across her were insistent and demanding. Her orgasm would come quickly, no matter what her opinion may be. She didn’t care and surrendered to it. After several minutes of unbridled stimulation her head collapsed back and her eyes fluttered close.
“Look at me.”
The unexpected, unprecedented order got Shepard’s immediate attention. Highly dilated eyes stared back at her. There was a look in them she had never seen before and could therefore not quite place. Whatever it was it immediately, instinctively pushed her into higher realms. In less time than normal the spasms emanated out from her core. Tremors shook her thighs and vibrated up her abs, then jiggled her breasts under her shirt. All with her gaze ardently locked to the Justicar’s.
“Wash, eat, sleep,” Samara stated as the woman came down. “Tomorrow the difficult work of this operation begins.”
With that the superior left, scooping up the delicates discarded minutes ago to wipe her hand. In the den she noticed the bag from a shop she didn’t recognize. She opened it to see floral print and lace. Shepard only ever wore the most basic of underwear, so Samara was uncertain why such a purchase was made, though she could guess. Frustration took hold of her, but she was unsure with whom to place it.
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The Justicar's Dog of War