Jack comes out on top

Of course, a few years behind bars prepare you for these sorts of things better than any simulation or a perfect set of genes. Miranda reeled and shot out an arm but Jack managed to duck her head through, causing the biotic push to ripple past her ear and rattle against the Mako's hull. Miranda had a second to twist her face in **** failure before Jack drove further in and dropped a graceless jab with her right hand into Miranda's tight stomach. Jack usually had a right that could stagger a battlemaster, but she was worn down enough that she would have had trouble doing anything more than pissing off most.

For Miranda though, at that moment, it may as well have been being hit by a car. She crumpled to her knees, wheezing for breath. Jack took a couple of deep breaths herself, leaning back against the wall of the craft before she seemed to regain enough of her strength to properly start rubbing it in.

"I take it back princess, you wouldn't last a week in prison."

Miranda quietly seethed, she started to crawl back towards the rear, presumably to find something sharp. Jack gave her a quick but sharp biotic knock in the ribs to make her arms wobble, then a quick kick in the forearm to drop her facedown on the metal floor. Jack sat down on her back, even her meager weight enough to ensure the officer wasn't going anywhere. She gathered Miranda's hair up in her left hand, keeping it in a tightly balled fist.

"I'm gonna..." Miranda tried to wheeze, remaining defiant but seeming to understand she was done in.

As if to punctuate that fact, Jack brought her hand down on Miranda's ass with a loud fleshy "SLAP". It made Miranda squirm, it had been hard enough to leave a handprint.

"You're in no position to tell me what's about to happen. Instead, let me tell you."

A sharp yank on Miranda's hair, another harsh slap. Miranda squirmed, Jack wasn't going anywhere.

"Maybe you're a little too pretty in fucking pink to get it, but let me tell you how somebody learns a hard lesson."

A yank, a slap hard enough to get Miranda to audibly wince.

"When somebody fucks with the boss."

A pair of slaps.

"I don't let them off with a fucking warning."

A slap, Miranda tries to dodge them but her large ass gives Jack all too much room for punishment. Jack gets up, Miranda rolls onto her backside to escape punishment but must not realize that she's been allowed to because it's what Jack wants. She exhales painfully as Jack plops back down onto her stomach. Jack leans forward to grab Miranda's wrists and pins them beside her head. Miranda squirms, tries to jerk her head up to butt heads with Jack, who merely pulls hers back.

"You should have fought this dirty when it counted, now it's just making things worse for you." She spits in Miranda's face.

She pulls her hands away, Miranda's arms remain locked in place by invisible phantom limbs. Usually an even match biotically, Miranda has lost her edge fast. Miranda squirms her torso and legs but seems to be realizing the ground she's losing. Better to save her strength for a good opportunity, she's surely thinking. There's likely a long beating ahead.

That's why Jack's hand between her legs probably comes as a shock. Enough of one to make her yelp in surprise. She tries to close them, but only traps Jack's hand in her thick thighs.

"What the fuck?!" Miranda squeals.

"You have a lot to learn about prison rules princess. Nobody learns their lesson after an ass-kicking, you really gotta embarrass them if you want them to learn."

Her bony hand probes with an angry curiosity, Miranda shifts her hips and writhes like a pinned krogan, but it's never going to be enough to get Jack's hand out from between her legs.

"You did better than most, but you're still just another bitch who needs to be humiliated to learn not to fuck with me."

Miranda's grunts of protest are getting more ****, but more pathetic. There's no way that she isn't enjoying this, even if she doesn't want to. Her legs got caught mid-kick and start to get pulled outward to either side by more invisible hands. It was hard for a biotic to maintain even the slightest protections without the ability to focus, and once an opponent got in it was impossible to get them back out. Jack, as it turned out, was doing a very good job making it so Miranda couldn't focus. More and more of her body was going stiff as Jack started to enforce a crushingly oppressive amount of power over her. In junction, she lost more and more safeguards that had kept Jack from doing what she was doing now, holding her spread-eagle with her fingers buried in Miranda's pussy and the other hand mashing one of her "perfect" breasts.

"God damn I'm going to have fun with this, and I'm going to take my fucking time too."

"Go. To. Hell." Miranda hissed.

Jack took this as an opportunity to crawl off of Miranda's chest. When she could see that Miranda wasn't going to move or wasn't able to, she kneeled over her, striking her fingers more deeply and more intensely inside of Miranda's pussy. Miranda was trying her hardest to arch her back and pull away, but it wasn't like her toes weren't curling.

"You can try to hide it, but you're running like a faucet down here."

"Don't-fuck!" Miranda gasped as Jack slipped more fingers in, she was up to three and teasing the fourth. Her motions became less concerned with stroking Miranda's insides and more with trying to get as much inside of her as possible.

"When I said I was going to fist you earlier, it was a fucking promise."

Miranda clawed at the metal floor as Jack pressed her hand, fingertips pressed to thumb tip, slowly against and then into Miranda's reddened slit. Regardless of what Miranda might have had to say on the matter, Jack managed to slowly ease her hand in until everything above the wrist had disappeared. Miranda shrieked as Jack made good on her promise. With her fist inside, she made a couple of faux punching motions, pistoning her arm up and down inside of her. She set her elbow down onto the floor so she could angle her fist up, watching the bulging outline of the intrusion move toward her fatless navel and then back down.

"Shit girl, that's the easiest anyone's ever taken the whole thing. Your daddy make you like this, or do you do this to yourself while thinking about John?"

"Please!" Miranda gasped, back arching as high as she could manage. "Take it out!"

Jack looked at Miranda's face disappointed for a few seconds before slowly sliding her hand back out the way it had come. When her pussy was no longer being so painfully stretched, Miranda took a ragged deep breath. Jack sucked her fingers and watched disinterestedly.

"Definitely not the latter, I've seen far tighter squeal far less."

Jack stood up and looked back over toward Shepard, still stuck in his chair. Her eyes lit up and she walked over to him, dragging Miranda along the floor with her with a flick of her finger.

"Sorry John, just something us girls had to work out. Now, where were we before?"

Miranda slid into place at the seat of Shepard's chair. Jack took her time settling down gingerly between Shepard's legs. She plopped down onto Miranda's face as her seat.

"Alright princess, you're gonna eat my pussy while I give the good commander here the head you wish you could. If you don't, I'm blocking your air. If you bite me or try anything funny, we're gonna find out if your daddy made your ass fist-compliant too."

As soon as Jack finished, her lip curled happily. "Good girl, you catch on quick."

Shepard's cock was tenting in his boxers painfully and Jack was all too thrilled to relieve him of them. She slid his cock out through the front, letting the thing out like he had wanted to do since their first day stranded. She leaned forward and licked up toward the tip, wrapping both hands tightly around the base. She licked the pre-cum off of his head, circling her tongue around it while looking up into his half-frightened eyes before sliding him into the back of her throat. She felt a ghost of a gag as she drew him in with skilled flair, but suppressed it easily. Miranda probably would have gagged and struggled with one as big as his, but she wasn't some pillow princess. The best part about big ones like his was making them pop like a hydrant, even better if his girl was green with envy while she watched. Miranda may or may not have been John's girl but it didn't matter, she wanted him and she didn't get to have him.

Shepard quivered and pulsed in her throat, several days of pent-up frustration being coaxed out by a warm blanket of slick pleasure squeezing around him and her hands softly pumping the inches she couldn't bob up and down on. Hitting herself in the lips over and over again was well worth it. He was going to pop in under a minute and she'd taken harder knocks for the privilege of being the one to make him pop faster than he'd popped before.

"Jack-!" He grunted.

She slid him back out, if she hadn't washed her makeup off with sweat during the first day, she could have had nice streaks of eyeliner to show him. Too bad, she always liked how it looked on her.

"Yeah yeah, you're close." She smiled up at him. "Just let it out, save me the fanfare for the fourth or fifth."

She popped him back in and switched out her throat punishing dives for shallower bobs and more focus on tongue lashes and pumping with her hands. It only took a few seconds for him to squeeze his eyes shut and start spraying down her throat. Each burst came with a thrusting pop of **** and a flex of his rod against her tongue, his likely aching balls pumping with joy up into her slick mouth. It was probably the fastest a girl had made him cum since he was a teenager, he might even have been embarrassed if he wasn't on cloud nine.

Jack took the whole thing in her mouth, as much as she might like to swallow him and make a show of it, promise him a permanent new no-mess stress relief hole during missions, she could do that later. When he had pumped his last, and fell back into the chair gasping for breath, Jack rose slightly and scooted back. Miranda looked up at her briefly with hazy eyes, mouth covered in pussy juices. Before she had time to react, Jack pressed their lips together, tasting her own pussy on Miranda's lips and letting Shepard's cum go into her mouth. She didn't let her lips off of Miranda's, forcing her to swallow Shepard's load. When Jack was satisfied that she had, she broke the kiss and straightened back up.

"How does he taste?"

Miranda just coughed back.

"I wanted you to get what you could because that's the closest you're getting to fucking him until I've had my fill. "

Jack stood up fully, her pussy was burning for some real action and Shepard was still mostly hard. Not like it mattered, she could get him back up if she really needed to. With a flex of her hand, Miranda dragged along the floor and up into one of the seats. The seat clasped around her, though Miranda didn't fight back. Jack climbed up into Shepard's lap, giving her wet pussy a few grinds against his shaft to get his attention, then sliding him inside of her. She moaned loudly, as much performance as it was pleasure. She made agonizingly slow movements, circles with her waist mixed with a soft rise and fall. He likely wouldn't get as hard as he was before again, but she only needed him most of the way there.

It didn't take long for her to forget all about the performance aspect of it and to start melting in his restrained arms. Saying she hadn't been dreaming about doing this, audience optional, would have been a lie. His cock was as good as she hoped, the helpless desperation on his face while he dealt with her having full control was better. She wasn't about to go all mushy for him, not during the first time and not with an audience. She had an image to maintain and a show to perform, she had also spent the past few days just as ready to tear her clothes off as he had, so she was ready to get to the good part.

She started to pump her hips faster, making sure to maintain the movements that hit all of her good spots but trying a little harder to get to the showstopper. Then she started trying a lot faster. It was lucky that Shepard wasn't a one-and-done kinda guy, he remained admirably hard through it, even as she really started to pound herself with him. He looked like he was about ready to burst a vein. If he wasn't restrained, there was a pretty good chance he'd be throwing her into some kind of mating press on the ground. Not an unpleasant idea, there would be time to explore it. Work him up enough then give the console a quick jerk and get treated like a cumdump for an hour or two. In fact...

She felt a deep quiver and then a burst inside of her. She moaned loudly, calling his name for him but especially for her to hear. With each bomb that burst inside of her, she rocked her hips, settling deep onto his thighs and linking their bodies at the waist. She pressed her chest against his as her breaths came forcefully heaving out of her, biting him just a little. Just enough to show whose he really was. She let out a final wobbly sigh as the last wave made its way out of her. She wanted to bathe in the afterglow for a while before working things back up, but the performance came first.

When she slid off of Shepard, he was still rock hard. She had taken care to move her body in a way that did the most for her and the least for him. It was a hard technique to learn but had proven to be a valuable one before. She unfastened Miranda and pushed her to the floor, grabbing a handful of hair.

"Walk, bitch."

Miranda begrudgingly dog-walked forward, letting herself be led over to Shepard, where she crawled between his legs.

"Say that you want his cock."

"What?"

"Say it, bitch."

"I want his cock." She muttered.

"If you ask nicely, I'll let you fuck him."

"If you think you're getting back onto the Normandy after this-"

"Your options are his cock or my fist, pick your poison."

Silence, then.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please let me fuck him."

"Let you fuck who?"

"{fistnamemale}..."

"And when he fucks you, whose cock is he going to use?"

"...What?"

Jack yanked Miranda's hair, pressing the woman's face up against Shepard's cock, coated in the lingering wetness of her body.

"That right there is my cock, bitch. Ask my permission to let him use it on you."

"You fucking psycho."

A slap on her snow-white ass, a yelp.

"Please let Shepard fuck me with your cock." Muttered, embarrassed, best to let her know not to talk that way now.

"I couldn't hear you over all my pubes in your teeth, loud and proud cheerleader."

"Please let Shepard fuck me with your cock."

"Whose cock?" Jack barked, aggressive training always worked best when you had an image to maintain.

"Yours."

Jack let go of Miranda's hair. She half expected her to whip around and start the fight back up, some of the spunkier girls needed to be taught twice. However, to her surprise, Miranda quietly climbed into Shepard's lap. Good, she must have been just as horny as both of them had. Hell, maybe on some level she even got off on it, hard to guess when it came to a modified fuckdoll like her. Jack grabbed her hair with one hand and put her other on the small of Miranda's back, steering her quietly onto Shepard's cock. When in parted her folds and started to slip wetly in, Miranda shuddered and bit her lip to suppress a moan. Jack quickly ducked to the midsection of the Mako and fetched her omni-tool and visor. She made sure to stay mostly out of sight while getting as many glimpses at both faces as possible.

"You don't have to be shy, look him in the eye and thank him." She goaded softly.

Miranda sighed. "Thank you, Shepard." For the first time, it sounded downright blissful.

"Tell him how much you wanted this."

"I-" She seemed embarrassed, even with his cock inside of her. "This isn't the way I pictured it, but this has been all I've been thinking about for the past few days."

The camera quietly recorded.

"You've wanted the commanded since the first time you saw him, right? Wanted to jump his bones back on the operating table even?"

"That's not-!"

"Say you're the commander's little whore, come on, we're all friends here. You planned this whole thing because it was always your fantasy for him to hold you down and fuck you silly while you make me watch!"

As soon as Miranda turned her head to protest, Jack fingered the seat controls. Shepard's restraints unlocked instantly and he pulled her in close.

"Oh, you fu-"

Shepard dropped forward out of his chair and pressed Miranda's body onto the floor under him. He started to thrust away at her rapidly, any protests on Miranda's part became squeals. Just the right mixture of provocation and blue balls pushed both of them into a frantic pace, voices intermingling in kisses and moans.

Jack slid down into her chair, enjoying the show for the most part. She was almost envious of Miranda, he was digging her out like his life was on the line and with how worked up she had to be, it was probably more than she could have dreamed for. As his balls slapped against her with each inward thrust, their bodies twined in a pale non-tattooed spectacle, Jack could make out Miranda's legs quivering. By the time Shepard emptied himself into her, she had probably experienced her version of pillow princess heaven three or four times. They lay in a panting, sweaty mess of a pile, gasping for air and exchanging kisses.

Jack flicked her omni tool, as the camera shuttered, she got up and walked to the back. She was tired, they probably had a few more in them.

The comms crackled to life with a sharp pop not long after. It was loud enough, and the fadeout of the emergency gen was quiet enough, that it woke Jack up. Shepard was still mid-thrust when it happened. When Joker's voice crackled over the radio, he had to scramble to respond.

"Normandy to Shore Party, Normandy to Shore Party, you guys alive down there?"

"Shore party here, we're peachy," Jack responded, getting to the console first.

"Never thought I'd be glad to hear your voice again... you're not the only survivor, are you?"

"We're all okay Joker," Shepard gasped as he managed to get to the console. "Some of us a little worse for wear but no major injuries."

"Glad to hear it commander, Normandy will be able to pick you up in about an hour."

"I'll be counting the seconds." Miranda sighed.

"Oh and commander, if you took and videos of your vacation, I know I for one would volunteer to view-" Shepard cut him off by switching off the comms.

Shepard slumped into his command chair with an exhausted sigh. Miranda stepped toward him and put her hands around his neck, kissing his cheek.

"I think you and I would both kill for a shower right now." She spoke softly in his ear.

"Does this mean you two will stop making eyes at each other in meetings?" Jack asked, sliding her leather top back into place around her breasts. It was cooling down decently quickly, still not fast enough.

"You!" Miranda whipped to her. "Give me one good reason not to send you to some Cerberus lab and have you vivisected!"

"Shouldn't you be more concerned with what you'll wear back on board the ship?" Jack asked idly. She slipped into a pair of uniform pants she had found in an emergency kit. "I kinda shredded your jumpsuit and judging by the smell, it was your only one."

"I changed my mind, I want her dead now."

"I wouldn't make threats like that princess."

Shepard and Miranda's personal omni-tools both pinged, the message from Jack hit both of their inboxes in unison. One didn't have to watch more than a second of the video to understand the plot.

"You!"

"Me!" Jack responded idly. "You think your pilot might want to see this? Or maybe the shadow man in charge of your little outfit might like to know you're fucking his investment. Hell, I could send it to the alliance and council members that haven't blocked my inbox."

"To what end? What do you hope to gain with this?"

"I don't gain anything, not really." Jack shrugged. "I guess I don't get airlocked for now, plus I get a new boy toy when I want one. I'll even share if you ask. Never really was about me winning, more about you losing."

She sat down in the Mako's driver seat and kicked back with her arms behind her head. She had no idea if Cerberus or the alliance actually would have any issue with Commander Shepard and some Cerberus bitch bumping uglies, but judging by the crumpled look on Miranda's face and the fact that neither of them had tried to kill her yet, there must have been some controversy somewhere. Shepard loaned Miranda his pants and shirt, wrapping the previously useless cot blanket around his waist for the return journey. For those two, there was no subtle way to go back to the Normandy, and no way things would ever be the same. For Jack, it had been another good week out of prison.