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The Justicar's Dog of War	By : Doirly_No Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 55026 -:- 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
- 7
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- 9
-I don’t understand why you won’t allow me to speak to her nor do I understand why it is even your decision to make.
-It does not matter what you understand, but needless to say, I cannot trust someone of your profession.
-Yet you are still willing to patron my services.
-I do not “patron your services”. You provide me information at your own discretion so I may better assist those in need. If you are no longer willing to provide this charity then I will rely on other sources.
-You have no better source than me. If I stop “providing this charity” then those in need will unduly suffer because you no longer will be receiving the best information.
-I will always find those in need of help.
After exchanging antagonistic words for a near hour Samara had her fill for the day. Massaging her temple she reread the last few lines and couldn’t help but feel some regret for allowing her tone to grow so combative. Though not enough to rescind or apologize for any statement she had made. Still she really had to step away before she did something to truly regret; like accidently using a name or giving a location over an unsecure line.
Leaving the cockpit Samara heard another message chime its way on to her screen, but she missed the screen flash red for an instant before the computer was told no attempted intrusion had been made. Her shoulders around her ears the matriarch marched down the corridor to the living area, knowing she could find something to ease her tension there. Along the way she paused in the kitchen to pour herself some wine. A month before she never would have considered using such a luxury, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. It wasn’t the first time she had transitioned between lives though.
Drink in hand the matriarch turned to the den, her eyes only wandering the room a second before settling on a lovely view. Sticking out from a maintenance hatch was Shepard’s swaying posterior as she made a minor repair to the air filter. Samara sat across the room in the chair plush enough to get lost in, elegantly cradling her wineglass. Her eyes slid close listening to the light hum of the engine and odd assortment of noises emanating from the working woman. Taking occasional sips her moment of peace became a pseudo-meditation. While deep reflection was still a solid part of her routine, it was no longer the primary means for her to fill down time.
Once her shoulders fell and half her drink was gone her head rolled toward the still working human. A corner of Samara’s lips curled. Honestly, she hadn’t had so much fun since her maiden days, though she worried how much longer she could keep up. She wasn’t as young as she used to be and Shepard constantly proved to have a bigger libido than a teenager. In any case, the minor issue could be saved for a later date. Watching the swinging behind got some amorous energy flowing through her old body and a growing curiosity as to what the woman could be wearing under her pants.
“Shepard,” the matriarch called, but wasn’t noticed. “Shepard!”
The swaying butt paused to listen for a moment before resuming its waving back and forth. Even with her focus entirely elsewhere, Shepard could give Samara a smile. With an extra bit of time the asari had a second chance to consider what she wished to do and with the wine buzzing through her head felt a bit more playful than usual. She stretched over to the couch to grab the nearest pillow and launched it across the room. Getting hit by the soft projectile got her pet’s attention.
Confused as to what just smacked her ass Shepard sat back on her haunches. Naturally she looked for what struck her and quickly found the pillow. Perhaps unnaturally she looked up to see if it had fallen on her from above. It took another half minute before she finally turned around enough to see the amused asari behind her.
“Ma’am?” Shepard asked.
“I was just wondering what you may be wearing underneath your pants.” Samara took a slow sip before ordering, “Show me.”
More than happy to, Shepard’s hands flew to her belt, but quickly second guessed. No, she needed to make a show of it. So, her grip shifted to her shirt and methodically pulled the fabric from her waistband. Her pelvis swaying to the stripper’s song playing through her head she completely freed the hem, raising it high to reveal more of her midsection than she really needed to. Now came time to remove the belt; with the buckle undone she gave a snap to her wrist to free it from the loops. She twirled it over her head before letting it fly off into the bedroom. The button and zipper provided a momentary inconvenience to her dexterous fingers. Not letting go, she let her pants slip from her hips with a deliberate pace slowly allowing her simple, white thong to come into view.
Cutting off any further action, Samara said, “That’s enough. You may get back to work.”
A little disappointed, the collared human began to pull her pants back up. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I do not believe I told you to pull those back up,” the woman’s owner scolded. “You can do your job just fine with them down.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Shepard smirked before her head disappeared back into the wall; making sure her army-green shirt rode high around her waist so to leave her rear on full display.
The rest of the asari’s wine disappeared down her throat with a few more sips, her eyes wandering to and from the lovely butt. Nothing left to drink her pointer finger started doing lazy laps around the lip of her glass. Then her brow furled in thought as she tried to remember the last time she had partook of alcohol before a week ago, because she had little to no tolerance. She certainly couldn’t remember ever having thrown a pillow at someone. Her hazed mind then gained some clarity when she heard a loud clank as the panel was locked back into place. Fully sunk into the cushions, Samara looked over to the indecisive human who was unsure what to do with herself or her pants.
Samara quickly rectified the confusion with a wag of her glass. “I am out of wine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Having not received an order to recover her modesty, Shepard walked out of her trousers.
The matriarch didn’t track her young human preferring to shut her eyes a moment. It felt like the right time for a chat. Having monitored extranet actives for the past couple weeks, Samara had learned a few new things about Shepard’s sexuality; just not as much as she would have hoped. No fetishes or kinks were readily apparent, though most were represented. The only true trend amongst all the porn, and there was plenty, was that only females and asari were involved; hanar did seem to be actively avoided. It led to the conclusion that the woman didn’t really know what she desired, besides being gay. It seemed the millennia old alien would have to bite the bullet and help the poor thing figure it out. Though she would need to be careful, because watching a vid of someone else perform an act is quite a ways from doing it one’s self.
“Here you are, ma’am,” Shepard happily notified.
Before looking, Samara raised her palm to receive her glass. “Thank you.”
As the asari sipped her periphery caught the slight alteration made to her pet’s wardrobe. When out of sight, Shepard had knotted the front of her shirt to leave her toned belly fully exposed. It was hard not to notice that the woman stood with her hips thrust out a little further than would be natural. So, the wine had to be shifted to the other hand so blue fingers could slowly graze over the human hip before settling into a possessive hold of a firm cheek. In no hurry for anything, Samara took shallow sips as she weighed and kneaded the pliable flesh.
Once Samara had her fill of groping she used the buttock like a handle to guide the woman around front of her and then gave a slight tug to drop her to her knees. Using the collar, the matriarch then pulled her pet in to rest an ear on her stomach. She had a feeling that if not for her long nightgown Shepard would try to stick her nose where it had yet to belong.
One hand scratching the hair at the base of the skull, the other bringing wine to her lips Samara mentioned, “I think I have been doing you a disservice.”
Not seeing how that could possibly be true, Shepard denied, “Oh no, ma’am. I’ve never been happier.”
The asari lovingly stroked a soft cheek. “You have told me a few times that you came to me because you felt no one else could give you what I can, but I have not been putting enough effort into giving you all I can.”
“But, everything…” the human started.
The comment was cut off, “I have no idea why you are trying to argue with me wanting to give you greater happiness.”
With a chuckle Shepard conceded, “Good point.”
“I have lived long enough to know what I like and what I do not, but I have never been in such a relationship so am curious over the extent of my own desires as well.” At the moment she was learning how much she enjoyed treating the woman like a pet cat.
“Anything you desire I would be overjoyed to provide.”
With a devil’s grin Samara halved what was left of her wine before taking a hold of the collar to force eye contact. Once she had it she emptied her glass in one more gulp, but didn’t swallow. She pulled her pet in by the collar so to share the taste of the asari vintage. Their lips met and she let the liquid pour into the mouth below. Like a starved newborn Shepard sucked down what was given her. A minute after the liquor was gone, the kiss ended.
Their lips only a hair’s breadth apart Samara ordered, “Stand, turn and grab the table.”
There was a hitch before Shepard did as she was told; a sliver of worry over what would come next. Still, she dutifully stood and turned around. Bending at her waist, legs straight, feet apart, she grabbed the edges of the table, putting her unconcealed ass at the sitting asari’s eye level. From this position, she had absolutely no way to see what her owner was doing or rather wasn’t doing. It seemed forever before she felt nails lightly scrapping up her calves, over the backs of her surprisingly ticklish knees and across her muscle bound thighs; leaving shivers in their wake. At the first hint of the mounds of her round cheeks they veered off to take hold of her hips.
Again nothing seemed to happen for an eternity, besides the blue hands squeezing right where her body bent. The teasing lack of action ended with the distinct sensation of a slick tongue being dragged over her buttock. Several slow licks caressed her backside, followed quickly by a stream of air, causing goose-bumps to break out all over. Another patch of skin on her other cheek got the same treatment. She found it growingly difficult to stop from curling a knee and just as Shepard fully surrendered to the delight a solid slap shattered it.
After a second smack stung her other buttock Shepard asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Samara said between another pair of well placed blows. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you’re…” the woman choked as a dozen slaps rapidly rained down upon her growingly pink bottom. “You’re spanking me, ma’am.”
“Your point?” The asari landed a strike hard enough to get her pet to jump a little.
“Spanking is a form of punishment for hum…” Shepard’s word was suddenly halted by dual, overhand shots.
“I see,” Samara punctuated by quite literally using the woman’s ass like a bongo drum for an interminable number of seconds. “Perhaps we shall try something else then.”
With a swift yank the white thong went all the way to the floor. Things seemed to be looking up, but just as hope sprang the dominate alien’s nails dug into the human’s tenderized rear. The infiltrator couldn’t help the sharp shriek that burst from her lips. The jolt of pain caused Shepard not to notice her cheeks being spread apart or the glob of spit hitting its target dead center. However, there was no way she could miss the pressure against her inexperienced rectum.
Before the digit could enter the human whined, “Why am I being punished?”
As Samara gracefully stood her thumb disappeared, getting a grunt from the now sodomized woman. Seemingly not an ounce of concern in her pace, the asari drank in the sight of straining muscles laid out before her. Her flattened, free hand rubbed up and down the spine under the t-shirt. So not to be entirely cruel she dipped two fingers into the human’s folds.
“This is not punishment, Shepard,” the matriarch clarified as she twirled her buried digits. “I own you and shall use any part of you however I please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the pet human said obediently.
“Remove your shirt,” the asari in charge ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” Leaving an arm to support, she swiftly flipped the top over her head and onto the tabletop.
“Shepard, look at me.” Once she saw an eye peeking back at her, Samara said, “We will be experimenting with new things. Just keep an open mind so you can learn whether or not you like something.”
“What if I don’t like something and don’t want to do it again?”
“Then we will not do it again. If it takes five times before you realize you dislike something then we will never do it a sixth.” With a smile and consoling rub of the rump the asari added, “Do not worry about disappointing or angering me. I do not want you to suffer through something on my account. I want to help you find your sexuality. So, I hope you give everything a fair chance.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will, ma’am.” Shepard regained her smile, even though she found the thumb uncomfortable.
“Good.” Samara took a step around and leaned in to give a brief, but loving kiss. “So, let us see how well you do with some real domination.”
Feeling movement renew in her ass Shepard responded a little more eagerly, “Yes, ma’am.”
Now standing beside the nude woman the matriarch could reach every bit of skin. Her free hand stroked the broad shoulders awhile before sliding under to grope a dangling breast. With her other fingers she intensified her ministrations of the increasingly excited human sex. Samara lacked the sadistic streak needed to cause any real pain to the vulnerable form and doubted she could even summon the strength to really harm Shepard. The infiltrator could withstand harsher treatment than any but the most hardened krogan. So, the asari withdrew her rather unsoiled thumb, modern toilets doing a fine job of cleaning a person up, to inflict some damage in a different way.
“Get on your back and grab your knees,” a swat to the ass punctuating the order.
Doing as told, Shepard flipped over on the table and curled into a near fetal position. Her owner had other ideas though and with a light touch guided the clutched legs apart. She hadn’t been in such an obviously vulnerable position since she was young enough to need diaper changes, with her wide spread thighs held to the sides of her chest by her own hands buried in the backs of her knees. The yet moistened, blue digits came to cradle her face and draw her into eye contact as her spine flattened against the metal surface. Gazes locked three fingers suddenly appeared to press against her lips. Without an ounce of resistance she opened her mouth and sucked them in.
The matriarch began to smooth over the mop of hair as she asked, “You know where these are going, correct?”
Shepard could only apprehensively nod a response with the fingers pumping in and out of her mouth.
“Get them as slick as possible because they will enter together,” she warned still combing her human’s locks.
When she felt the insurgents pulling away Shepard tried valiantly to follow them and suck them back in. Anything to prevent the short journey they started to undertake. Keeping her eyes fixed to Samara’s she couldn’t watch the coated nails trace a direct path down her body, leaving a slimy trail of saliva behind. Along her throat, between her breasts, over her abs, touching her navel and through her slit without pause. Just after the final bit of skin was bridged the asari took a second to brush a bang from the woman’s face.
The invaders at the gate Samara decided it time to explain, “In my research I found humans need crude displays of dominance in order for them to understand their proper role of submission. I also I discovered an odd focus on the anus in these displays. So then, I am curious as to whether anyone else has shown you your place in such a manner before?”
“No, ma’am,” she squeaked.
“Good, I am glad my property is not coming second hand.”
The matriarch braced herself against the table as she adjusted to a more advantageous position. Then the muscles in her arm flexed and three fingers began to sluggishly enter Shepard’s ass. After an initial grunt, the increasingly penetrated woman released a labored groan. Never before with her asari owner had she felt humiliated; sure she had been embarrassed here or there, but this was different. A bit of her soldier’s pride flared as she couldn’t help but think how she was splaying herself to be butt-fucked; only words so vulgarly blunt could be used to describe.
“Do not break eye contact,” Samara warned as all her knuckles pressed into the human’s flesh. “This is the proper role for all your kind, as the property of an asari who can elevate you to at least some level of civility. Do you not agree?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered through gritted teeth as her ass lost the last of its virginity.
Breaking the veneer of her act, Samara teased with a smirk, “You can do better than that.”
The softened expression eased Shepard enough to better play along, “Yes, ma’am. Humanity should realize it’s in our best interest to take our proper place as pets to the superior asari. Thank you for taking ownership of me and showing me the truth.”
It took an immense amount of self control for the matriarch not to start laughing; not expecting the woman to do so well. “You are welcome, Shepard, and in a minute I will allow you to show me how grateful you are.”
“Thank you, ma…” her voice hitched when the digits buried as deeply as possible, tested how far they could spread.
“But right now I want you to orgasm.” Samara’s fingering intensified.
“Okay,” was all she could half-heartedly answer with.
Shepard didn’t think it possible to reach her climax with the only stimulation being the three fingers up her ass. So she took a guess and started to move a hand down to help things along, but a sharp slap to the wrist got her to wedge it back in the pit of her knee. Even the added attention of the asari’s thumb on her moist folds didn’t make the summit seem a manageable goal. To try to focus on the stimulation of her clitoris her lids started to slide close, but a tap to the cheek corrected her and her gaze only faltered a moment from the crystal eyes staring down at her. Panic then took hold of her, little dissuading it for several agonizing minutes.
When all seemed lost Samara said simply, “Embrace eternity.”
All worry vanished. Shepard no longer had to overcome alone; the asari took hold of her and lifted her into realms beyond. It seemed so silly to have ever felt humiliated or panicked. Any hint of pleasure in her was hunted down and developed like a source of water in the desert. Even that which brought such discomfort a minute ago added to her sexual gratification. At the instant she could sink no deeper into delight a gentle kiss touched her and everything imploded into orgasm.
The matriarch withdrew her fingers to prop Shepard’s limp legs on the chair. Then her hands went to stroke the gasping belly and matted hair as she knelt down beside the disoriented woman. With great satisfaction she watched her sated pet recover, having decided to delay her own ecstasy so she could find it on a pink tongue. Patience being a primary virtue of her race, she waited out the afterglow.
Once she saw Shepard’s eyes refocus and drift her way, Samara asked, “Are you ready to show me your gratitude?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” the woman unable to suppress a dumb grin.
Samara stood and with a pair of wrist flicks sent her nightgown to the floor. Shepard began to move, but a slight shake of the head stopped her. Instead, the asari stepped up on the sturdy, metal table, putting a foot by each protruding ear. A knowing look of anticipation passed between them before blue folds lowered onto eager lips. The woman’s face disappeared into welcoming thighs. Their first experiment had positive results.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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The Justicar's Dog of War