On Display

If she didn’t look at the crowd, it might be easier to forget where she was.

She couldn’t ignore the crowd, though. Curiosity kept drawing her eyes outward, as she wondered who these people were basking in her humiliation. Did they know who she was? Were they all agents of the Broker? Or were they just strangers here for a night’s entertainment, not knowing or not caring that the two women on the stage were not there by choice?

Liara had now spent more nights with Shepard as a slave than she ever had as a free woman.

Beneath her, Shepard gave a quiet moan as Liara’s fingers entered her and she moved her lips over the human’s breasts. Liara’s heart sunk each time she heard Shepard make a sound. She knew how much the human valued her self-control, how much it was costing her spirit each time she was unable to ignore the sensations Liara was forcing upon her body.

If she didn’t look at the crowd, she’d have to look at Shepard. She didn’t want to do that.

Now it was Shepard’s turn to run her fingers down Liara’s body, to use her lips and tongue to force the Asari to the peaks of pleasure. It was easier now, to simply feel the ecstasy tinged with humiliation, to simply lie back and be violated herself than to be the violator of the woman she loved, than to be the cause of this pleasure mixed so strongly with sorrow.

There had been no words between them since their capture. Their captors had taken their translators, and the two of them had only ever taught each other a handful of phrases in the other’s language. Simple words, phrases lovers wish to use. Not words fit for a place like this.

It was hard not to be impressed with the Broker’s capacity for malice. So easy to simply destroy an enemy – so much more devious to force one’s enemies to be the instrument of the other’s humiliation, to use their own feelings against each other, to force them to decide whether to sacrifice the other’s pride or the other’s survival.

They kissed, mouths still strong with the taste of the other’s body, eyes closed. Liara couldn’t face looking Shepard in the eye, and was terrified of what she might see reflected there.

She remembered the last time they’d looked each other in the eyes. The first nights they had been forced on show, Shepard had not proven entertaining enough for the patrons. The fifth night, their captors had sought to solve that problem by using black market Quarian neural stimulators on the two of them before the show.

Liara barely remembered that night, only a blur of savage lust and artificial desire as the two women grasped at each other’s bodies. The effect had faded before the show ended, and once she’d regained control of herself Shepard had risen shakily to her feet. Liara knew she was going to try and attack one of the guards around the stage. Liara had grabbed her in a restraining embrace, forced their mouths together before the guards noticed the human’s attempted defiance.

The look of hatred in Shepard’s eyes as they’d kissed was nothing Liara ever wanted to see again.

Of course, she’d probably saved Shepard’s life by holding her back. But Shepard must have known herself that her escape attempt would have been suicidal. Who was she to deny the human a chance to die on her feet? After she’d led Shepard into the Broker’s trap, after her foolish confidence had gotten them trapped in this nightmare, who was she to force Shepard to endure it with her?

They hadn’t used the neural stimulators again. Shepard had proved more cooperative the next night. Liara couldn’t look at her after that – didn’t want to see that look of pure malice directed at her again, and just as scared that she wouldn’t see it, that that night had finally broken the human’s will.

“Pureblood whore!” someone in the audience laughed as another moan escaped her lips, and Liara looked out into the crowd again.

It was easier to stand naked before her enemies than to look at the woman she loved.

* * *

Liara lay awake in the dark of her cell, again running through escape plans and trying not to think about the night’s ‘entertainment’. She was exhausted, but didn’t want to sleep. If she slept, she’d dream again. Each night, she relieved the trap the Broker had laid for her. Each time, she realised her mistake too late. The dream always ended the same way – with Shepard naked and kneeling before her, a look of utter surrender in her eyes.

She’d slept better the nights after Shepard had died. At least dead was dead, a clean end to a life. To imagine Shepard reduced to a hollow eyed slave was more than she could take.

The worst was the part she still couldn’t entirely admit to herself – the faint sense of arousal she had upon waking.

At least her cell had a shower – of course, her captors wanted her clean before each show. She never felt clean here, but she still showered obsessively after each show and each morning.

A noise outside her door roused her to full alertness. Was it an opportunity for an escape, or were her captors planning some new humiliation?

The lights came on, as they always did when the door was opened. An armoured figure stepped through, and through the doorway, Liara could see the bodies of two others. The intruder removed her helmet, and for the first time in weeks, Liara looked directly at Shepard’s face.

The human looked terrible, Liara saw. One of the scars on her cheek had opened up again, and the faint glow of red cybernetics showed behind it. Her hair seemed thinner now Liara looked at her properly, and her stance was agitated. But her eyes…

Her eyes had the same glint of energy Liara remembered from before this nightmare. There was hate in them, certainly, but it was not directed at her, only at those that had forced them into this situation.

Shepard spoke, a string of gibberish coming out, before remembering Liara still did’t have a translator unit. She grabbed a helmet from one of the fallen guards, but paused before handing it to Liara and spoke again.

Her pronunciation was terrible, but Liara recognised it as one of the phrases of her language Shepard had learned from her.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Shepard repeated, and a great weight lifted from Liara’s heart.

She took the helmet from Shepard, and activated the translation unit built into it.

“Come on.” Shepard said, once they could finally communicate properly. “Grab a weapon and let’s go. We’ve got to get to the upper floors. The Shadow Broker’s here in person.”

She smiled, a grin that more than anything reassured Liara she was still dealing with the woman she loved.

“Time to give the Broker a private show.”