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Tali was studying the extranet site with an engineer's eye when she had a sudden insight. The analogy hit home with a force that made her catch her breath.
These pictures of fully clothed humans must excite them in the same way that nakedness would scandalise a Quarian. The humans she knew took every opportunity to wear as little clothing as possible; she had to stop herself from showing disgust, sometimes. These confections of tight fabrics, straps and appendages were every bit as intricate as a Quarian suit, although they looked much more delicate. You would probably tear that thin rubber with nothing more than an unkempt talon.
Was this site a shop of some kind? Were they selling the clothing? The humans themselves? Some other service? She selected a glyph experimentally.
It thanked her for her purchase and assured her of their absolute discretion.
Tali squealed in dismay. She hurriedly shut down the terminal and set a program to wipe it clean. She checked the damage to Ashley's credit and set up an instantaneous anonymous transfer to cover the amount. A painfully expensive mistake.
With luck, Ashley Williams wouldn't notice that her extranet account had been... borrowed. And if the gods were really smiling on her, they'd all die in some disaster before whatever she had accidentally ordered was delivered.
**
Ashley knew it was only a matter of time before curiosity let the cat out of the bag.
The box at the bottom of her footlocker popped into her thoughts whenever she had an idle moment. Mail call had been a little bit fraught. The other grunts had regarded her jealously as she took charge of what they probably thought was an over-sized care package. Their consternation had grown over the following days as she had refused to acknowledge their increasingly unsubtle allusions to her supposed stash of home-baked treats.
The truth was confusing at best. She definitely hadn't ordered... what was in the box. She hadn't even gotten past the first layer, something feather-light that slipped through her fingers until they caught on a fastener. She had closed it, red in the face, glad that no-one was around to see. Then she had buried it at the bottom of her locker and tried to forget about it.
She wasn't so much worried about her own inability to leave it alone, but that one of the other crew might 'accidentally' go rooting around in her things. Soldiers who kept secrets from each other were seen as aloof, and the petty violation of her privacy would likely be overlooked. She couldn't even just dump the box someplace. There wasn't an incinerator aboard and spaceships didn't throw out the tiny amount of unrecyclable trash they produced until they hit port. Who knew when that would be.
Ashley groaned as she slotted the parts of her rifle back together. She would have to get to the bottom of the box before anyone else did, she realised. Forewarned is forearmed, as every girl scout knew. The logistics were a headache, though. There wasn't anywhere she could open it in private. Time to bite the bullet, then.
“Uh... Commander?” she asked next time Shepard came by to inspect her station.
“What is it, Ash?” Shepard replied.
“I... uh... got this package, the other day...” Ashley began, not quite knowing what to say.
Shepard gave her a knowing look. “I do believe I heard something about that,” she said quite evenly.
Ashley blushed a little. “Yeah, well, that's just it. You know how rumours go around. It's just... I wouldn't hold out on anybody, I promise, skipper!”
“I know.”
Shepard's absolute confidence calmed Ashley. “But I... I need somewhere private to open it up. I think... I don't know what to think, Shepard! I don't know who sent it!” Ashley lowered her voice to a whisper. “It's kinda weird.”
Shepard did no more than raise an eyebrow. “My cabin. In ten.”
Ashley wasn't sure why she was so nervous as she crossed the threshold to the Commander's private office. Shepard was being a good friend as well as helping to mitigate a situation with a potential impact on morale.
Shepard was sitting at her terminal, calmly scrolling through reports. “Do you want the place to yourself?” she asked, looking up.
Ashley stopped a step inside the door, hugging the box defensively. On the one hand, being alone would avoid the almost certain embarrassment that the box contained. On the other, having a credible witness would put a hard stop to the rumour mill. And beyond that, she might need the moral support. “Uh... stay,” she said, finally.
She walked over to the low table while Shepard swung her chair around to watch. As she extracted garment after garment from between layers of thin tissue paper, her face grew redder and redder. Finally she reached the bottom of the box and caught Shepard's eye.
Thank god, they both burst out laughing at the same time. Ashley giggled so hard she nearly wet herself. She doubled over in a vain attempt to regain control.
“Dear Miss Williams,” began Shepard. Ashley's head snapped up. Shepard was reading from a piece of paper that had fallen out from between the layers. “We thank you for your order from Different Lifestyles. This ensemble has been custom tailored to your dimensions as found in your extranet profile, but should you encounter any problem,” Shepard paused, a smirk upon her lips. “We can always make it tighter.”
Ashley gaped like a fish for a few seconds. “Shepard, you've got to believe me,” she protested. “I have no clue who sent me this.”
Shepard made a steeple of her fingers. “Someone with excellent taste?”
Ashley puffed out her cheeks and blew. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Come on, skipper. 'Fess up if it was you.”
“It wasn't,” Shepard replied. “Honestly, I'm a simple kind of girl. This isn't really my thing.”
Ashley put a hand on her hip. “What the hell kind of thing is it, anyway?” she mused. She drew a flap of fabric up by a shiny strap and let it dangle by her finger. “I'm a bit lost here, Shepard. Is it a costume? Or a... hell, I'm already out of ideas.”
Shepard, hawk-eyed, pounced on a slim pamphlet. Bound in a slick shiny cover, Ashley had thought it part of the gear. “RTFM,” pronounced Shepard, opening it to the first page.
Ashley watched as it was Shepard's turn to blush. Shepard coughed and turned the page. By the end of the short volume she had turned redder than a beetroot. She put the pamphlet down in a hurry.
“That's... unexpected,” said Shepard.
Ashley was uncomfortably aware of the frankness of Shepard's gaze. “What?” she demanded. “What?” She picked up the pamphlet. Even the paper had been treated to a slick, waterproof finish.
On each page, a rendering of Ashley's form illustrated the donning procedure, step by step. She could tell that it had been synthesized from her extranet profile pictures, which didn't quite cover the latest developments in her thighs, but was pretty close. The first image was of a supportive undergarment in the trademark shiny black material with robust looking straps. Arrows indicated how and where to tighten them for maximum effect.
The second page, that had caused Shepard some consternation, covered the insertion of some internal components. Ashley glanced up to see Shepard staring at her. She looked down again. Ah, and the pictograph just there meant...
“Inflate as desired,” Shepard supplied helpfully.
Ashley drew her lower lip into her mouth to stop it quivering. She turned the page again. A limp corset, fitted perfectly and then inflated to rigidity.
The next page. A heavy looking pair of jeans rendered in the shiny black stuff, tight against her rump. She felt a quiver in her buttocks as she imagined how that might feel.
Heavy boots.
A short jacket, perfectly snug when zipped up to her chin, almost innocuously fashionable when left hanging open. Fancy clubbing gear.
Ashley spent a little while looking at the last page. The woman in the image looked powerful and confident, every curve and muscle of her body accentuated. But at the same time, the annotations explained, she was confined, restrained, by the rigid reinforcements and inflatable bladders worked into every garment.
They encouraged her to explore these features with a friend in order to fully experience a Different Lifestyle.
Shepard was still looking at her with unblinking eyes and colour in her cheeks.
Hunger.
“Uh, OK, skipper, can I leave this here I'm on duty thanks OK bye,” Ashley poured out in a nervous jabber, backing away to the door. That look made her stomach thrum. She wasn't at all convinced that Shepard hadn't arranged all this: the package, the friendly offer of assistance...
Shepard snapped out of it. “Hold up, Williams,” she said. Her officer voice, not her friend voice. “Pack this stuff away.”
Ashley was on safer ground with plain-spoken orders. She flipped and folded the items briskly, taking care not to touch them more than necessary. The slick shiny stuff felt like something between rubber and plastic. She wasn't at all sure about having it up tight against her body. Looking closer she saw black-on-black patterns, areas of varying thickness. The occasional trim of satin or lace. She was reminded of the fancy Victorian outfits her sister Abby was fond of, and wondered if part of the attraction was the implied reference to a time when women were seen as very much the lesser sex. When the clothes were almost designed to leave them as helpless as possible.
Shepard let her tuck the box at the back of a storage compartment. Aside from Shepard's duffel it was bare. Ashley wondered, not for the first time, about Shepard's past. Didn't she have any personal belongings? “Any time you want it, just say. I'll give you access to my quarters for when I'm not here.”
“Aye-aye, ma'am,” Ashley replied, ripping off a relaxed but respectful salute.
That look flashed across Shepard's face again for an instant, but then she turned away, and so did Ashley.
**
Shepard couldn't concentrate on filing reports. It wasn't exactly necessary work, not at this point. She was tempted to look at the instruction manual again. But she didn't really need to. The images had lodged themselves in her mind. She could still see Ashley gussied up in tight black gear whenever she closed her eyes.
It wasn't so much the gear, or the body. Ashley was fine, no argument there, but she was hardly the first fit and feisty soldier that Shepard had appreciated from the comfort of her private bunk. The outfit was weird and wonderful, but Shepard found it more funny than anything else.
It was the look in her eyes. In the picture, and in front of her. Shepard had always enjoyed the simplicity of military life. Giving and taking orders, things getting done.
She hadn't for a moment considered that someone might take orders for any reason other than duty. Certainly not for pleasure. Certainly not as a lifestyle choice. But it hit home now, in a way that the psych theory at N7 school hadn't managed. Those lessons had been about manipulation, how to get what you wanted without resorting to force. How some people were easy to push around, were desperate for someone to come in and take charge.
How some people even liked it.
Shepard was half convinced that Ashley was one of those people. At least, that she could be, in a set of specific and narrow circumstances. That she might get off on at least playing at being a submissive, as long as it was with an authority figure that she already respected.
Shepard was equally interested to discover that the thought of breaching the boundaries of military discipline was turning her on like mad. It would have to be a fine upstanding specimen like Williams, she thought to herself. It wouldn't be any fun pushing someone sloppy around. She'd love to see how hard she could push Ashley, how desperate she could make her before she broke down. What orders she could be convinced to follow. Shepard reeled as the possibilities multiplied in her mind. She imagined Ashley in her outfit, trained into obedience, following her. Letting Ashley sweat and strain against her subtle bondage.
Making Ashley do things she didn't want to. Sexual things, certainly, but also immoral things. Petty theft, or intimidation. The kind of acts that went against everything Ashley believed in. Ashley's physical confinement would be just a reminder of how thoroughly she was owned and controlled.
Shepard was a little bit afraid of the dark and intense turn that her thoughts were taking. She also knew from experience that rather than relieve her, masturbation would only make things worse at this point. She went in search of a distraction.
**
Ashley was suddenly aware that Tali's body was remarkably curvaceous. The enviro-suit didn't look very practical in that respect. It was form-fitting everywhere but the face.
She'd sought out Tali to take her mind off the weird box and it's strange contents. They had an easy rapport, at least when they talked about family. In the middle of a long rant about her father, Ashley had stopped hearing Tali's words and was spacing out. Tali's suit was stuffed full of tech. What did they do if their suits were hacked? How did they stop the geth from uploading into their onboard life support computers and wreaking havoc?
Ashley imagined Tali slowly suffocating inside her suit, her mask fogging up as her gasps became desperate. Her cheeks turned pink. She was worried that she found the idea exciting.
“... and that's how I left it, before I came on my Pilgrimage,” Tali finished. “What? You seem upset.”
Ashley quickly changed her mind. No way she could confide in Tali about the rubbery outfit. Quarians wore their suits like a second skin, not for fun. Not as an expression of the darkness within themselves.
“Shepard,” blurted Ashley. The first thing she thought of. She wondered about that, too. “I think she has a crush on me.” It might even have been the truth.
Tali's reaction was half-way between nosy and jealous. “Lucky you,” she replied wistfully. “But isn't fraternization a problem for your people?”
“You've been watching too many old vids,” Ashley replied. “We're a lot less uptight about it now.”
“So what's holding you back?” asked Tali innocently.
What indeed, thought Ashley. She was a little ashamed that the idea wasn't a new one. Shepard drew the eye. “She... uh... has a funny way of showing it,” Ashley said carefully. “She bought me... something. Clothes.”
“Clothes?” Tali asked. It was hard to tell through the darkened visor, even harder to read an alien's facial expressions. But Ashley thought Tali's voice sounded odd. Translator glitch? Quarians didn't have any use for clothes other than the suit, of course. Maybe they didn't have the words for them.
Ashley tried to guide the topic away from dangerous ground. “It's funny,” she said. “It's not something I thought about much before, but now that I've met some people from other cultures...”
“Go on,” Tali urged. Was that eagerness? Or was she being coy?
Ashley thought for a moment. “I've been in uniform so long I'm not really comfortable in anything else,” she said finally. “But... I wonder if I haven't just traded one set of assumptions for another? Like, we still have sexist jerks. But the uniform... am I hiding behind it? Like... can you guys even see each other's faces through that glass?”
Tali laughter barked out nervously. “I am sure you meant no offense,” she said. “But that is one of the oldest slurs about the 'suit-rats'. The truth is that we have adaptive polarising filters that cycle in an encrypted sequence. It is an ancient security protocol. Mostly useless today, but we keep it for cultural reasons. We exchange encryption keys much as your people would shake hands.”
“Oh... OK, sorry,” said Ashley. “I guess I'm being naïve, you probably get so many nosy humans asking you dumb questions about the suits...”
“Not at all,” replied Tali. “Look at it from my perspective. I'm surrounded by semi-naked apes. Your hands have been near your bottoms and you touch everything. It's... difficult, sometimes. You're so free! It's a non-stop orgy!”
Ashley laughed and frowned at the same time. “Uh, your translator's maybe acting up again...”
“Translator? I'm speaking English,” Tali replied, a little bit indignantly. “All Quarians can. Your language is easy.”
“Orgy, then?” asked Ashley with a smirk.
Tali shrugged. “Such a different lifestyle,” she said.
Ashley stared at her. “Different...?”
Tali crossed her arms defensively. “Oh, keelah.”
Ashley was amused by Tali's confession. Eventually.
**
Shepard's knee was bouncing again. She got it under control before letting Ashley in again. She looked at her expectantly.
“Skipper,” began Ashley, but that was all she said.
Shepard thought she looked nervous. “You want to, I mean, you want your box?”
“About that,” Ashley said. “Turns out, it was Tali.”
Shepard was startled out of her strange mood. “Tali? Are you sure?” She listened as Ashley gave her a quick run-down, hitting all the salient points concisely. Damn, she was a good soldier.
“By accident?” Shepard asked. It didn't seem likely. There were rules that extranet sites had to follow.
“My bad,” said Ashley. “She was using my account. I have it set up for automatic confirmation. She covered the charges retroactively, though. Otherwise my credit would have been in the toilet.”
“Neat trick,” Shepard replied. She filed away Tali's ability to hack secure payment systems in case it came in handy one day. “It was really that expensive?”
“Hey, it's not like I'm on an officer's salary,” Ashley replied. “Ma'am. But yeah, it's all top of the line... stuff.”
Shepard's heart raced. “Are you going to try it on, then?”
Ashley stood a little bit straighter. “I was just going to give it to Tali,” she replied. “She paid for it, after all.”
“What's she going to with a thousand creds of custom-fit fetish gear?” Shepard blurted. Stupid to say it so directly. She might as well just tell Ashley what she wanted. But then Ashley would play coy, and she would have to chase her. She could feel her face getting hot. Her desire must be written all over it.
“Uh...” Ashley hesitated. Shepard didn't dare push harder. “More like five thousand.” Shepard let her eyes widen in surprise. “Sure. Why not? My sisters are always dressing up...”
Shepard inclined her head towards the storage closet and watched Ashley's ass as she bent down to pull out the box. She loved it when a grunt had to pack her rear into a uniform that was fitted for her waist. Since the fatigues had to fit everyone, even desk jockeys, they never had quite enough space in the seat for a soldier who could sprint in full gear over high gravity terrain. Maybe that was also a recruitment tool? It was above her pay grade, anyhow. Soon she'd have as much of that ass as she cared to reach for, she was quite sure. Her hand twitched in anticipation.
“So do you want some privacy?” Shepard asked.
Ashely's response was flippantly cool. “I have a feeling I'm going to need help with some of this, Skipper. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” replied Shepard.
Ashley stripped down efficiently. Nothing Shepard hadn't seen before, although not in such a private context. “Now what in the hell is this?” Ashley asked, holding up something strappy and soft.
“I, uh, think that comes later,” Shepard replied. She'd obtained the manual and was leafing through its slick pages. “Some kind of additional... um... thing.”
Between them they persuaded Ashley's muscled frame to slip into various dainty and not-so-dainty layers of slick and stretchy material. Shepard's pulse quickened as she fumbled at various fastenings and straps. Ashley could never have done this on her own. She was at Shepard's mercy. So why was it that as every buckle and snap fell into place, Shepard felt more light-headed?
A pair of long gloves was the last element in place. Every inch of skin below Ashley's neck was covered in at least one layer of sensuous, tactile fabric. Shepard laid her hands on Ashley's shoulders and let them run down her sides, probing at the dynamic components, the auto-tightening straps and the inflatable bladders.
Ashley shuddered as Shepard's touch brought the suit alive. Her back stiffened, her breasts and ass lifted. Between her legs, a firm and insistent pressure arose. She looked down.
“That's... unexpected,” said Ashley. She slid a coated hand down to rub at the bulge between her legs. It squished and stiffened as she manipulated it. Her breath caught. “Oh my, skipper,” she said, guiding Shepard's hand down there.
Shepard's cheeks colored as she felt the bulge grow out further. Some intricate pneumatic mechanism was slowly activating. She was suddenly aware that Ashley was half a head taller a good deal heavier than her.
Ashley raised a gloved hand and slid it around Shepard's throat. She guided Shepard back against the wall. Then she pressed herself briefly against the shorter woman, a full body latex lick.
Shepard heard herself moan and felt her knees wobble. She was glad to have the wall to support her. She'd been expecting Ashley to turn submissive once she was fully dressed in confining gear, not assertive. But Ashley was clearly in the grip of a feverish desire. She was already pulling Shepard's pants down around her ankles. Shepard felt weak.
Now Ashley pressed the bulge of her suit against Shepard's crotch directly. “Oh, fuck, Skipper,” she said. “Does that feel as good to you as it does to me?” She humped hard once, crushing Shepard against the bulkhead.
Shepard answered with a little noise. Her thighs strained to keep her legs as far apart as possible, to maximise the intensity of the contact. She was aware that this wasn't how it was supposed to be... but her heart was pounding with desire. The outfit had transformed Ashley from eye-candy into an irresistible, frictionless amazon. Their mouths slid over each other and then Ashley did something with her hands that had Shepard gasping, eyes wide, stiff as a board.
Ashley flipped Shepard around. A warm gloved hand at the back of her neck made Shepard hang her head and go limp. “Fuck, I had no idea it would be like this...” Ashley said. She guided Shepard over to the terminal where she sat her down. Leaning closely over her, she logged in to the Different Lifestyles extranet site.
Shepard wondered at the images displayed before her. Her own extranet avatar hadn't been updated for a few years. She'd been younger and more innocent when the scan it was based on had been taken. Now that fresh-faced youth populated all of the outfits that popped up in the terminal's holodisplay.
They were all bizarre, but Shepard could discern a least two types. There were those that were more purely fetishistic, that were more about materials or appearance. Some people liked to dress up as animals? And there were those that were thematic, that looked like they were about a lifestyle. She watched as Ashley found the outfit that she was wearing. Shepard's avatar appeared in it. At the bottom of the page, Ashley navigated to related items.
The range of accessories included ever-larger inserts, a hydraulic upgrade, electro-stimulators... and complementary outfits for your partner.
Shepard's heart thumped as Ashley laid a glove over her hand and guided it. “I think one of these would suit you, wouldn't it?”
Ashley pushed down on Shepard's unresisting finger.
**
Ashley got off on the fact that Shepard was enjoying it so much. Normally so buttoned-up, she'd freed Shepard to be as undisciplined and demanding as an adolescent. And all it had taken was several thousand credits of state-of-the-art fetish wear.
She supposed it was because Shepard's childhood had been difficult. Ashley hadn't heard much, but enough to know that Shepard had had responsibility thrust on her shoulders from an early age.
“Come on, you skinny bitch, suck in that gut,” Ashley said. She pulled the lacing tighter around Shepard's middle. “Fuck, you're like a boy. Even this fancy thing can't give you a figure.”
Shepard struggled, but Ashley held her spread and pinned with her face mashed against the wall.
“You have any idea what it takes to maintain a body like mine?” said Ashley. “How much PT I have to do?” She leaned in close. Shepard shuddered and relaxed at the contact of Ashley's rubber bulge on her ass.
Ashley took the opportunity to yank the lacing as tight as it would go.
Shepard cried out. “Fuck! Stop teasing already!”
Ashley ran her hands down Shepard's body, taking in the heavy rubber collar, the strict corset and the tight leggings. She buried her hand in the hair at the nape of Shepard's neck and curled her fingers tightly.
Shepard grimaced as Ashley swung her out from the wall, then threw her back against it.
“Maybe if you show my body some respect,” Ashley said.
Shepard's eyes flashed hotly. She averted her gaze submissively.
Ashley found the control surface in the sleeve of her skintight jacket and stroked it against Shepard's side. A tell-tale squeeze from the haptics woven into the fabric confirmed that handshaking had taken place and the garments were now synced up.
Ashley took Shepard's wrists and held them against the wall. Then she leaned in to push her rubber bulge between Shepard's legs. Delicious pressure bloomed, stroking between her thighs, up her back, along her arms. The inflatable elements of her outfit wormed their way ever deeper into her most intimate spots.
Shepard was similarly affected. Her breath came short as her collar and corset grew engorged with pressure calibrated to amplify Ashley's attacks. Between her legs, also, a growth that made her want to squeeze her thighs shut, if only Ashley would let her.
“Ho-lee-shit,” said Ashley. She humped at Shepard experimentally. The feedback from her outfit made her feel elastic. Every time she bounced into Shepard it felt like her whole body was synchronised, a weapon. A crowd-control weapon rather than a deadly one, the kind you could use to tangle someone up and render them helpless.
Shepard acknowledged Ashley with a quivering lip as the collar tightened particularly hard around her neck. Pinned against the wall by Ashley's bulk, she couldn't hope to do anything but try and ride it out. Although, perhaps if she twisted, she could exploit the very slickness of the rubber to slide away...
“Stop it,” Ashley said. She pressed Shepard hard against the wall. Shepard gasped like a fish as her air supply was nearly cut off completely.
The outfits they wore had clearly been designed to work together on more than an aesthetic level. While Ashley was fully covered apart from her head, Shepard's pale arms and shoulders were on tantalising display. The cut of Ashley's outer layers was straightforward, practical but not severe. All the frills and lace were concealed beneath. Shepard's outfit left much more of that on display, clasps and belts and handy buckles with which she could be tugged this way and that.
Ashley's outfit made her feel powerful and commanding. The built in tech reinforced her strength and her pleasure, and communicated her desires to Shepard's clothes. Shepard was restrained by the collar and corset which made her stand uncomfortably straight, frustrated by inflatables that opened her up but wouldn't let her self-stimulate. She was entirely dependent on Ashley for that.
And all of it was made of the most sensual, tactile materials. Through gloved fingers, Ashley could trace the expanses of thin rubber that confined Shepard, the patches of satin that provided texture and contrast, the light ribbing that structured and stabilised. And beneath it, Shepard's quivering flesh, shrink-wrapped and sensitised, her reactions amplified and communicated to the circuitry woven into her garments, fed back to keep her nerves on the edge between pleasure and unbearable ticklishness.
Ashley found a spot on Shepard's neck just beneath her collar and started to give her a hickey. Shepard fought noiselessly, pushing weakly at Ashley's shoulders and trying to get her head away.
Ashley kept at it until Shepard stopped struggling. Then she slipped her arms around Shepard and picked her up. Shepard could do no more than gasp for breath. She wasn't light, but then Ashley wasn't weak. Ashley lowered Shepard slowly to the bed and gradually transferred her weight too, pressing Shepard down.
The clothes, recognising another standard position, adjusted again. A redistribution of forces, of encouraging stiffness and the sense of freedom in certain directions. They wrapped around each other maximising contact. Shepard's thighs spread wide around Ashley's waist, her knees locked behind Ashley's thick thighs, and her ankles tucked in beside her knees. Their arms knotted around each other and pulled fast.
Shepard opened her mouth and Ashley obliged her by letting her taste her lips. As the kiss went on, Ashley started to rock back and forth, and Shepard began to respond in kind. The rubber of their outfits slid freely past each other, where sweat would have stuck them together. The satin, the ribbing and the buckles conspired to irritate and excite in turn as they dug and probed. The inflatable bladders, fully engorged now, pressed inside them both, clashing as their hips squeezed together.
They both lost their sense of time as they rocked against each other. It was exquisite stimulation, enough to bring them to the edge but no more. The built-in feedback was doing its job perfectly.
It was Shepard who broke, of course. Her confinement was that much stricter, her frustration so much the greater. The whole experience was geared to make Ashley feel like she was in complete control without overstimulation, and it worked. But when Shepard started to whine and beg, it was enough to bring Ashley to her peak. She came triumphantly, mashing her face into Shepard's shoulder, squeezing her as tightly as she could. Shepard gasped for air and when she couldn't get enough, reached her own abrupt climax.
“You think this is what it's like for Quarians?” Shepard asked, later.
“You want to ask Tali?” Ashley replied. She was tracing the vein inside Shepard's elbow with her gloved finger. “Oh wait. My mistake. You're going to ask Tali. You're going to wear this when you ask her.”
“So that's how it's going to be?” Shepard asked. She shivered. She turned her sweat-damp face to look Ashley in the eyes.
“Let me know if you're not into it,” said Ashley. She laid her hand gently on Shepard's collar. “Just say the word.”
“Let's not be hasty,” Shepard replied. Her eyes narrowed. She rolled onto her front and then sat on top of Ashley, her butt sitting comfortably on Ashley's bulge. “Let's not rush into anything.”
Shepard started to move back and forth ever so slowly. Ashley gathered Shepard's hands up and made her cross her arms behind her back.
The learning algorithm in the ensemble of distributed processors woven into the latex suits matched another trigger sequence, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Even if they had wanted to.