Merry Christmas Indeed.

Miranda's heart thudded in her chest as she took in the meticulously executed prank. The ropes that held Shepard were not just any ropes; they were a masterful weave of synthetic fibers, the kind that could hold a krogan in place. Her skin glistened with sweat, a testament to the struggle she must have endured before finally succumbing to the constraints. Miranda's eyes traveled over Shepard's body, noticing the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the way her breasts heaved with each muffled protest, and the way her thighs were spread just enough to tease without revealing too much. It was a work of art, really, a sculpture of human vulnerability and restraint.

A small, almost imperceptible sound of distress managed to escape the gag, and Miranda realized she couldn't just stand there ogling the situation. She took a deep breath and stepped closer, her booted feet echoing through the silent room. She knelt beside the bound heroine, her eyes locking with Shepard's, which were now filled with a mix of fear and anger. Miranda reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and touched the sticky note. She felt a sudden urge to laugh but swallowed it down. This was serious.

"Merry Christmas indeed." Miranda smirked running her hand over Shepards bare tit.

The shock in Shepard's eyes morphed into something else entirely as she felt the cold touch of Miranda's fingers. It was a sensation that sent shivers down her spine, not from fear, but from the sudden jolt of arousal that shot through her body. She hadn't expected this turn of events, not from Jack, not from anyone. But here she was, bound and on display, with a woman she had only ever seen in a professional setting now touching her in a way that was anything but.

Miranda, unable to resist, traced the contours of Shepard's firm, round breast, feeling the nipple harden beneath her touch. Shepard's muffled moan grew louder, and Miranda could see the fight in her eyes slowly giving way to something more primal. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air, a potent cocktail that made Miranda's head swim. She reached for the gag, her thumb brushing over the soft, plump skin of Shepard's bottom lip before she deftly untied the knot. The gag fell away, and Shepard gasped for air, panting heavily.

"M-Miranda, what the hell?" she managed to **** out, her voice hoarse from the gag.

Miranda leaned in, her breath hot against Shepard's ear. "Jack thought you needed some...unwinding," she whispered, her smirk widening as she felt the woman's body tense against her touch. "I've got to admit, I'm quite intrigued by this...gift."

Her hand trailed down to the base of the plug, giving it a gentle, teasing twist. Shepard's eyes rolled back, and a whimper escaped her throat. "Fuck, Miranda," she breathed out, her body responding to the unexpected intrusion despite her mind screaming for answers.

"Looks like someone's already enjoying their present," Miranda said, her voice low and sultry as she watched the color rise in Shepard's cheeks. "But we can't have you getting too comfortable now, can we?" She reached for the knot securing the ropes around Shepard's wrists, her movements deliberate and precise.

The anticipation was palpable as the ropes loosened, and Shepard's arms fell to her sides, muscles aching from the confinement. Miranda's eyes never left hers, the intensity of the gaze making Shepard's stomach flip. "You're not going anywhere," Miranda assured her, her fingers lingering on the ropes. "But I think we can give you a bit more... freedom." With a flick of her wrist, she untied the ropes around Shepard's ankles, leaving the plug in place.

The sudden freedom of movement allowed Shepard to flex her legs, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could feel the slickness between her thighs, the wetness that had pooled there from the constant pressure of the plug. She was torn between anger and arousal, but the latter was quickly winning the battle.