Chapter 2: Cerberus Revenge
The heavy silence that followed Miranda's fingers hooking into Aria's thong was broken only by Aria’s ragged breathing and the faint, eternal thrum of the Normandy. Miranda’s gaze, cold and analytical even as heat coiled low in her belly, raked over the expanse of blue skin offered to her. The crimson lace was a thin, damp barrier against the swell of Aria’s ass, plastered to the cleft, darkening at the apex of her thighs. Humiliation radiated from the kneeling Asari in waves, thick enough to taste – metallic and bitter – beneath the scent of jasmine, leather, and the sharp tang of sweat.
With a deliberate, almost leisurely tug, Miranda pulled the flimsy scrap of lace down Aria’s thighs. It caught momentarily on the suppression cuffs, forcing Aria to awkwardly lift one knee, then the other, her bound hands useless at her sides. The thong joined the discarded shift and shorts on the cool deck. Aria remained bent over, hands flat on the floor, presenting herself. Utterly naked now, save for the hateful cuffs. Her powerful back muscles corded with tension. The blue skin of her ass still bore the faint, angry red imprints of Miranda’s slaps. Between her spread thighs, the darker blue folds of her pussy were slick, glistening under the cabin lights, undeniably aroused despite the fury etched into her posture.
Miranda studied her prey. Centuries of power, reduced to this. A primal thrill, sharp and dangerous, cut through her professional detachment. She circled Aria slowly, the whisper of her silk robe stark against the silence. Her fingers trailed lightly over the hot skin of Aria’s shoulder, down her spine, making the Asari flinch violently. The touch wasn’t gentle; it was mapping territory.
"Get up," Miranda commanded, her voice devoid of inflection. "Face the bed."
Aria pushed herself upright with stiff, jerky movements, her eyes burning coals fixed on Miranda. There was no defiance left in her posture now, just a brittle, seething stillness that promised volcanic rage if the cuffs ever came off. She took the two steps to the side of Miranda’s neatly made bed, its stark white sheets a cruel contrast to her blue skin and the dark humiliation enveloping her.
Miranda moved to a drawer beneath the desk, retrieving two sets of sturdy synth-leather restraints with heavy magnetic locks. She tossed them onto the bed beside Aria. "Wrists. Ankles. Secure them to the bedframe." It wasn’t a request.
Aria stared at the restraints, then at Miranda, a flicker of something raw – terror? – warring with the fury in her ancient eyes. This was binding. This was helplessness made tangible. Her bound hands twitched uselessly.
"Do it," Miranda hissed, the cool facade cracking slightly, revealing the steel beneath. "Or I call Shepard. Explain how Omega’s Queen can’t even follow simple fucking orders."
A ragged breath escaped Aria. With agonizing slowness, hampered by her cuffed wrists, she picked up one restraint. She fumbled, her fingers clumsy with suppressed biotic energy and raw emotion, but she managed to loop it around her left wrist. She clicked the magnetic lock shut against the bedframe near the headboard. She repeated the process with her right wrist, stretching herself taut across the width of the bed, her arms pulled wide. Then, bending awkwardly, she secured the ankle restraints, each click of the lock echoing like a gunshot in the quiet room, leaving her spread-eagled on her back, utterly vulnerable, the damp blue delta of her sex fully exposed.
Miranda watched, the sight sending a fresh jolt of dark power straight to her core. Aria T’Loak, chained to her bed. The image was obscene. Perfect. Miranda shrugged off her crimson silk robe, letting it pool at her feet. She stood clad only in sheer black lace panties, her own body a testament to genetic perfection – sculpted, powerful, utterly in control.
She approached the bed. Not to the side. She walked directly to the foot, her eyes locked on Aria’s bound form, then deliberately climbed onto the mattress. She knelt, straddling Aria’s chest, her thighs framing the Asari’s face. The scent of Miranda’s arousal was potent here, mingling with Aria’s sweat and fury. Miranda shifted her weight forward, her lace-covered sex hovering mere centimeters above Aria’s mouth.
"You remember the terms, T'Loak," Miranda murmured, her voice a low thrum. "Service. Penance. For Omega. For every Cerberus operative your thugs spaced. For every shipment you pirated." She lowered herself slightly, the damp heat of her lace pressing against Aria’s lips. "Open."
Aria squeezed her eyes shut, a tremor running through her entire chained body. Her lips remained a tight, furious line.
Miranda’s hand shot out, gripping a handful of Aria’s thick, dark hair near her scalp. She yanked hard. "I said OPEN, you blue cunt!"
Aria gasped, her mouth falling open in shock and pain. Miranda didn’t hesitate. She shoved her hips down, grinding her lace-covered pussy hard against Aria’s mouth. "Lick!" she commanded, her voice cracking with sudden intensity. "Lick it like the fucking whore you are!"
The taste of Miranda, musky and sweet, flooded Aria’s senses. The sheer lace scraped against her lips and tongue. Humiliation, scalding and absolute, washed over her. But beneath it, the instinctive response, the biological imperative honed over centuries, flickered. Her tongue moved, a tentative, reluctant stroke against the wet fabric.
"Harder!" Miranda snarled, bucking her hips forward, forcing herself harder against Aria’s face. "Use that fucking tongue! Eat it!"
Aria’s eyes flew open, blazing with hatred directly into Miranda’s. But her tongue obeyed, pushing past the lace, licking flat and broad along Miranda’s slit. Miranda groaned, a deep, guttural sound of satisfaction mixed with dominance. She began to move, rocking her hips rhythmically, fucking Aria’s face with brutal thrusts. Each forward slam forced Aria’s nose into Miranda’s trimmed pubic hair, muffled her, pushed the lace deeper against her tongue. The wet, obscene sounds of Miranda’s pussy grinding against Aria’s mouth filled the room, punctuated by Miranda’s sharp gasps and Aria’s choked gags.
"Fuck yes!" Miranda hissed, arching her back, riding the Asari’s mouth like a savage animal. "Suck that clit! Harder!" She reached down, fingers digging into Aria’s hair again, holding her head immobile as she slammed down repeatedly. "That’s it, bitch! Take it! Swallow it!" Spittle flew from Aria’s stretched lips with each violent thrust. Tears of pure rage and helplessness welled in her eyes, spilling over, tracing blue tracks down her temples onto the white sheets.
Miranda’s gaze raked down Aria’s trembling body as she rode her face. The sight of the powerful Asari’s blue tits, heavy and full, trembling slightly with each jolting thrust, ignited another layer of dark desire. Still gripping Aria’s hair, Miranda’s other hand snaked down. Not gently. Her fingers closed roughly around the swell of Aria’s left breast, squeezing the firm blue flesh hard. Aria flinched, a muffled cry escaping around the mouthful of pussy.
"You like that?" Miranda taunted, her voice thick with exertion and arousal. She squeezed harder, fingernails digging in, leaving faint white crescents on the blue skin. "Like your tits handled rough, Queen?" With a sharp, stinging motion, she brought her palm down hard on the rounded peak. SMACK! The sound was sharp, percussive, mingling with the wet sounds of her face-fucking.
Aria jerked against her restraints, a guttural moan vibrating against Miranda’s clit. The shock of pain radiated, mingling horribly with the insistent throb between her own thighs, the slick mess she could feel spreading beneath her.
SMACK! Miranda slapped the other tit, harder, the blue flesh jiggling violently. "Fucking Cerberus property now!" she spat, punctuating each word with another stinging slap, alternating breasts, turning the blue skin a heated, mottled crimson across the peaks. SMACK! "Every!" SMACK! "Slap!" SMACK! "For!" SMACK! "Omega!" SMACK! "For every fucking time you thought you were untouchable!"
Aria writhed, her back arching off the bed as much as the restraints allowed. Her cries were muffled, desperate sounds against Miranda’s cunt. The pain in her breasts was sharp, bright, but it was nothing compared to the soul-crushing humiliation. Yet, her pussy clenched, aching, empty, drenched in her own traitorous slickness. Miranda saw it. Saw the flush deepening across Aria’s chest and neck, saw the frantic pulse in her throat, saw the desperate clench of her thighs.
"Oh, you filthy get slut," Miranda breathed, a dark smile twisting her lips. She stopped slapping, her hand instead sliding down Aria’s sweat-slicked stomach, over the tense muscles of her abdomen. "Getting off on this, aren't you? On being used? On being punished?" Her fingers trailed lower, through the coarse dark blue curls, through the soaking wet folds of Aria’s pussy. Aria bucked wildly, a choked scream tearing from her throat as Miranda’s fingers slid easily into her slick entrance, fucking her with two fingers roughly. "Fuck, you’re dripping," Miranda groaned, curling her fingers, finding the rough spot inside. "Dripping like a fucking common dockside whore."
But she pulled her fingers out, slick and glistening, ignoring Aria’s involuntary whimper of loss. Miranda’s gaze, predatory and cold, shifted lower. Past the glistening blue pussy lips, to the tight, dark pucker hidden between Aria’s ass cheeks. A fresh wave of terror flashed in Aria’s eyes above Miranda’s grinding hips.
"No..." The word was barely audible, a raw scrape of sound against Miranda’s flesh. "Don't..."
Miranda’s smile was glacial. "Don't?" She spat the word. "You don't give orders here." She lifted her wet fingers, glistening with Aria’s own arousal, and pressed them firmly against Aria’s tight asshole. "This is payment, T'Loak. For everything."
Aria screamed, a raw, ragged sound muffled almost completely by Miranda’s pussy grinding relentlessly against her mouth. Miranda leaned forward, putting more weight onto Aria’s face, using her body to pin the Asari’s head as she pressed her middle finger hard against the resistant ring of muscle. Aria’s entire body went rigid, straining against the restraints, a desperate, animalistic thrashing. Miranda felt the incredible tightness, the fierce resistance. She spat, a crude gesture, the saliva landing on her fingers, mixing with Aria’s slickness.
"Take it," Miranda growled, applying relentless pressure, twisting her finger slightly. "Take every fucking inch." With a brutal, unforgiving shove, she forced the thick digit past the tight ring of muscle, burying it knuckle-deep in Aria’s ass. Aria convulsed, a silent scream tearing through her, her eyes rolling back, tears streaming freely now.
Miranda didn’t pause. She began to fuck Aria’s ass with her finger, short, brutal strokes, while simultaneously rocking her hips, grinding her pussy harder against the Asari’s mouth. Her other hand returned to Aria’s abused tits, pinching a hardened blue nipple viciously, twisting it. Pain radiated through Aria in overlapping waves – the brutal invasion of her ass, the sharp torment of her nipples, the suffocating weight and demand of Miranda’s pussy on her mouth, the helplessness of the restraints. It was overload. A sensory hellscape of degradation.
Miranda felt her own climax building, fueled by the absolute control, the raw power thrumming through her. The sight of the mighty Aria T’Loak broken beneath her, taking everything she gave, forced to endure, forced to feel... it was intoxicating. She increased her pace, finger pistoning ruthlessly into Aria’s ass, hips snapping harder against her face. The wet, slapping sounds filled the cabin – skin on skin, the obscenely rhythmic squelch of Miranda’s finger in Aria’s ass, the muffled gagging sounds. Miranda’s breath came in sharp gasps. "That's it... fucking take it... filthy blue asshole... belongs to Cerberus now... just like your whore mouth... your fucking cunt..."
She could feel Aria trembling violently, feel the choked spasms around her finger, feel the frantic fluttering of her tongue against her clit, driven now by pure, terrified instinct. Miranda threw her head back, a guttural cry ripping from her throat as her orgasm slammed into her, sharp and blinding. She ground down hard, forcing Aria’s face impossibly deeper, her finger buried to the knuckle in Aria’s ass as she shuddered through the violent waves of pleasure.
"
Miranda shuddered, her hips jerking erratically against Aria’s face as the last tremors of her climax pulsed through her core. Sweat slicked her skin, glistening in the cabin’s low light. She slumped slightly, her weight pressing Aria’s head deeper into the mattress, the Asari’s muffled gagging sounds a wet counterpoint to Miranda’s own harsh breathing. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she withdrew her finger from Aria’s asshole with a slick, obscene pop, leaving the tight ring spasming. "Fuck," Miranda breathed, the word thick with spent satisfaction and lingering dominance. She lifted her hips just enough to peel her soaked lace away from Aria’s bruised lips, leaving a glistening smear across the blue skin.
Aria gasped, sucking in huge, shuddering breaths of recycled air that reeked of sex, sweat, and her own humiliation. Tears and saliva streaked her face, mingling with the sheen of Miranda’s fluids. Her chest heaved, her bound arms trembling against the restraints, her blue skin flushed a deeper cobalt with exertion and shame. The sting of her ass, the raw ache of her nipples, the suffocating press on her mouth – it coalesced into a burning knot of rage and something perilously close to panic low in her gut. Her pussy throbbed, a traitorous, insistent pulse completely at odds with the fury blazing in her eyes as she glared up at Miranda. "Bitch..." she rasped, her voice torn and raw. "Fucking... Cerberus... whore..."
Miranda didn’t rise to the insult. Her own legs felt unsteady, the aftershocks still dancing along her nerves, but her gaze remained locked on Aria, predatory and assessing. She saw the raw vulnerability, the trembling, the slick evidence of Aria’s unwanted arousal coating her inner thighs. A slow, cruel smile touched Miranda’s lips. "Still dripping, Queen?" she murmured, her voice dangerously soft. She shifted her weight, deliberately grinding her still-throbbing clit once against Aria’s slick chin. "Feels like you enjoyed your punishment."
Aria flinched, snarling. "Fuck you!"
"Not yet," Miranda breathed. Her expression hardened, the brief flicker of satisfaction replaced by cold command. "My turn’s over. Now it’s yours." Without warning, she leaned forward, planting her hands on the bed on either side of Aria’s head. Then, in one fluid, powerful motion, she lowered her entire body down, pressing herself flush against Aria’s face. She stretched out, her weight pinning Aria completely, her hips settling heavily over the Asari’s mouth and nose. Her wet, swollen pussy lips pressed directly against Aria’s lips. "Open," Miranda commanded, her voice muffled slightly by her position. "And lick. Make me feel it. Or we start the ass play again. Deeper."
The sudden, suffocating weight knocked the breath from Aria’s lungs again. Miranda’s heat, her musk, the overwhelming intimacy of being pinned beneath her was crushing. She struggled instinctively, a frantic twist of her head, but Miranda’s weight was absolute, her thighs clamping tight against Aria’s temples. The taste – Miranda’s sharp, musky tang mixed with her own tears – flooded Aria’s mouth. Humiliation seared her, hotter than the biotic cuffs. Centuries of power… reduced to this human’s cunt cushion. The thought screamed through her mind, warring violently with the insistent, pulsing ache between her own legs, the phantom echo of Miranda’s finger in her ass, the lingering sting on her breasts. Her body was betraying her utterly.
"Lick, T'Loak!" Miranda growled, grinding her hips down, forcing her clit hard against Aria’s sealed lips. The pressure was insistent, demanding. "Stop fucking thinking and serve." She rocked slightly, the movement deliberate, grinding her slick folds against the Asari’s mouth. "Suck my clit. Hard. Like you mean it. Show me Omega knows how to fucking pleasure something besides itself."
A ragged sob of pure rage escaped Aria, vibrating against Miranda’s flesh. But the threat was clear. The memory of the brutal anal penetration, the helplessness, was still raw. Survival. Temporary. The justification felt hollow, tasting like ash. With agonizing reluctance, her jaw unlocked. Her tongue, thick and uncooperative at first, pushed weakly against Miranda’s lower lips. She tasted salt, musk, the lingering tang of her own submission. Miranda moaned above her, a low, satisfied sound. "Better. Now suck." Aria obeyed, closing her lips around the hard, swollen nub of Miranda’s clit, drawing it hesitantly into her mouth. The taste intensified, overwhelming. Miranda’s hips jerked. "Yes! Fuck! Harder, you blue slut! Use that fucking tongue!"
Driven by command and the primal terror of renewed assault, Aria’s movements became less hesitant, more rhythmic. Her tongue swirled, flattened, pressed hard against the sensitive bud. She sucked, the sensation alien and degrading, yet somehow syncing with the frantic pulse between her own thighs. Miranda’s gasps grew louder, sharper. She began to ride Aria’s face in earnest, her pelvis lifting and falling, fucking herself onto the Asari’s mouth with hard, demanding thrusts. "Fuck yes! Just like that! Eat it! Eat my fucking pussy, Omega! Take it all!" The wet, sloppy sounds filled the cabin again, a vulgar counterpoint to Miranda’s cries and Aria’s muffled grunts. Miranda’s hands clawed at the sheets near Aria’s shoulders, her back arching. "Don't you fucking stop! Make me cum again! Make me cum on your worthless blue face!"
The relentless rhythm, the suffocating pressure, the sheer, degrading act of being used as Miranda’s fuck-toy, combined horribly with the building friction against her own neglected clit where her thighs pressed together. Aria’s focus fractured. Her humiliation warred with a terrifying, rising tide of sensation coiling deep in her belly, tightening with each thrust of Miranda’s hips, each desperate pull of her own mouth. The taste, the smell, the feel of Miranda grinding against her – it wasn't just violation anymore. It was fuel. Her body, starved and confused, latched onto the stimulation. Her tongue moved faster, almost frantically, her sucking harder, driven now by a desperate, shameful need she couldn't deny. A low, involuntary moan vibrated against Miranda’s clit.
Miranda felt it – the shift in Aria’s mouth, the desperate intensity, the trembling of the body beneath her. "Oh fuck," she gasped, her voice thick with realization and her own building peak. "You are! You filthy bitch, you're fucking loving this! Getting off on eating my cunt!" She slammed her hips down hard, grinding her clit ruthlessly against Aria’s tongue. "Cum for me! Cum while you choke on me! Cum like the fucking slave you are!"
The command, the brutal pressure, the sheer, overwhelming sensory assault was too much. The coil in Aria’s belly snapped. A strangled scream tore from her throat, muffled entirely by Miranda’s pussy. Her body arched off the bed as much as the restraints allowed, a violent, uncontrollable convulsion. Her pussy clenched desperately around nothing, waves of intense, shattering pleasure crashing through her, utterly divorced from her conscious will. It was a climax born of degradation, pain, and overwhelming sensation, a brutal surrender forced from her very core. She spasmed, her thighs trembling wildly, her mouth still working frantically, instinctively, against Miranda’s clit as the orgasm ripped through her, raw and devastating.
Miranda cried out above her, her own second climax triggered by Aria’s involuntary spasms and the desperate suction. She ground down hard, riding the waves, milking the convulsing mouth beneath her as she shuddered through her release. She stayed pressed down, pinning Aria, feeling the violent tremors subside into weak shudders beneath her. Only when her own breathing began to slow, the intense pulses fading to aftershocks, did she finally lift her hips slightly, peeling her slick, reddened flesh away from Aria’s ruined mouth.
Aria lay utterly still, gasping, her eyes wide and unfocused, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sweat, tears, saliva, and Miranda’s fluids smeared her blue skin. Her chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths. The defiance was gone, extinguished. In its place was a hollowed-out vacancy, the shell-shocked aftermath of utter physical and psychological violation. A thin trickle of combined fluids leaked from the corner of her slack mouth onto the pristine white sheet. Her body felt alien, used, broken. The silence that descended was thick, heavy, broken only by Miranda’s slowing breath and the distant, indifferent hum of the Normandy's engines.