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Behind The Scenes 1, Big Ass 44, Big Dick 49, Big Tits 89, Bisexual Male 4, Blonde 58, Blowjob 54, Bondage 6, Brazilian 1, British 4, Brunette 80, Bukkake 2, Cartoon 1, Casting 4, Celebrity 1, Closed Captions 1, College 2, Compilation 12, Cosplay 2, Creampie 17, Cuckold 1, Cumshot 35, Czech 3, Described Video Double Penetration 7, Ebony 16, Euro 10, Exclusive 22, Feet 4, Female Orgasm 7, Fetish 26, Fingering 2, Fisting 2, French 2, Funny 1, Gangbang 6, German 4, Handjob 10, Hardcore 84, Hentai 2, Indian 2, Interactive Interracial 19, Italian 1, Japanese 16, Korean Latina 13, Lesbian 26, Massage 4, Masturbation 38, Mature 10, MILF 49, He then removed the armor revealing her sculpted physique, he gave an impressed whistle.

Ash, now clad only in a pair of standard Alliance issue panties and sports bra, looked even better than he remembered. She had obviously intensified her training in his absence.

He trailed a hand across her stomach. She was just starting to get a six-pack. John had always loved a bit of muscle on a woman, it was the combination of hard and soft that did it for him.

He debated taking her hair out of it's tight bun, but decided it looked better up. Besides, it would only get in the way for what he had in mind. She looked so peaceful he felt almost guilty about what he was about to do.

Quickly he shoved those feelings aside and instead thought about what he would do to get her to actually listen to him. He grinned wickedly and rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain.

That trip to Omega had not been wasted. He checked his omni-tool. He had about twenty minutes before the sedative wore off.

So he quickly moved to his bed and pulled out a fairly large duffel bag out from under it. He probably wasn't going to get to use most of this stuff, at least not all at once.

But it was nice to have options. Collecting what he needed, he picked Ash up rather more carefully than he had put her down, moved her to the center of the floor.

For someone so strong and fiery, she seemed so small and light in his arms, a delicious combination of soft and hard.

He let his hands linger on her body as he lowered her to the floor, enjoying the feel of her skin as she slid out of his grasp.

As he ran his eyes down the playground of her body, he noticed the dark edges of a tattoo peeking above her panties.

That's new…Curious, he slid two fingers under the elastic and tugged it further down, exposing the ink.

He made a sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat and pulled the panties lower to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

There, written clearly in a cheerful little arc over Ashley Madeline Williams' rosy nether regions in a heavy Gothic font were the words: 'Property of John Shepard'.

He went very still. This was… unexpected. A little disturbing. John's mouth stretched in a wolfish grin, and a possessive gleam entered his eye.

Any subconscious doubts he may have harbored that Ash would be less than receptive to the activities he had planned evaporated in an instant.

Much as he was enjoying the view, he pulled her underwear back up and got on with preparations with a renewed purpose.

He buckled two thin leather straps around her legs just above the knee. Then, bending her right knee, he looped a length of rope around her upper thigh, and lower calf several times in a snug frogtie, repeating the process with the left.

Wielding another stretch of rope, he bound her wrists in front of her. Her breasts mounded up nicely between her arms, squeezed together and barely restrained by the fabric of her bra.

Rather than tying it off, he looped the rope and made a lead with it. Then, bending her double and drawing her knees up to her chest, he used the lead to bind her ankles together.

Her legs were forced to remain tucked up high, her thighs spread wide to accommodate her arms, leaving her vulnerably positioned and entirely immobilized.

Next came a leather blindfold, which he stretched tight over Ashley's eyes. That should keep the argument to a minimum… then again, this was Ashley, after all….

Checking to see that she was breathing comfortably, he stepped back to admire his work. Ashley looked incredible in rope.

He tried to imagine someday trying some more advanced ties with her. His body tightened with anticipation. Ten minutes left until the drug wore off.

If all went to plan, there wouldn't be much time for it later. What the… she thought blearily. Her head was still foggy, but she could tell something… wasn't quite right.

She tried to sit up, only to find that her arms and legs wouldn't go where she told them. Someone had tied her up, she realized swiftly.

She opened her eyes. Then tried to gasp when she saw nothing but darkness. Only to discover that there was something hard and round shoved inside her mouth, locking her jaw open.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded… A thrill of fear trickled like ice water through her veins, and it was all she could do not to start mindlessly struggling against her restraints.

Hold it together, soldier , she reminded herself. Got to stay calm. Easier said than done. Unable to see or move, she felt disoriented and helpless.

Her heart raced and her breath sounded too loud in her ears. She ran her tongue over the object obstructing her mouth, searching for a way to dislodge it, and felt the tug of straps against her cheeks.

Somehow that was worst of all, and she gave an involuntary little whimper. There was a sound of movement, very nearby, and Ashley went perfectly still, straining to hear.

She startled violently as something touched her. A hand, she realized a moment later, running up her leg and around the curve of her ass.

She squirmed, balking at the tickle of the unknown touch and her own defenselessness. At the sound of Shepherd's voice, Ashley felt her heart leap with hope.

He would save her! But it was quickly followed by a sudden influx of memory…. I was arguing with John. He did… something… there was a clicking, hissing noise at my back.

And then everything went all fuzzy and dark…. All combat armor had an on-board medical program to perform rudimentary first aid, including the administration of various drugs.

Including, it seemed, sedatives. Whatever fear or relief she may have been feeling were instantly washed away under a tidal wave of sheer outrage.

Anything that might have been left of her admittedly limited supply of patience was well and truly exhausted. With a shriek of pure fury, she lunged in his general direction — as much as someone tied hand and foot could lunge — the result of which was less than impressive, as she toppled sideways with a muffled "oof!

John smirked, rising from his crouch to stand over her helpless figure, and crossed his arms with authority. He realized a moment later that she couldn't actually see him posing, but decided he didn't care.

It was the principle of the thing. Ash's only response was a shrill stream of would-be invectives acidic enough to peel the paint from the bulkheads - had they come out as anything more than a garbled morass of angry vowel sounds around the gag.

Ultimatum delivered, John sat back down at his desk, kicking his feet up with his hands behind his head, to thoroughly enjoy the show.

Ash wriggled and thrashed, rolling around in helpless fury at the foot of his bed, searching for some way to escape, but to absolutely no avail.

John couldn't help but appreciate the way the fine sheen of sweat that began to develop from her exertion made her curves shine enticingly, or the way her well-toned muscles bunched and released, full of strength and grace all completely tethered and at his mercy, or the way the ropes squeezed her body, dimpling her thighs and accentuating the swell her ass.

She grunted and levered over, bound legs splaying in the air for a moment, and said ass shifted hypnotically as she fell in a tangled heap on her other side.

He rose with a predatory air, pulling his shirt off over his head in a single purposeful motion and tossing it aside. Padding forward in his bare feet, he unlatched his belt and slid it out of its loops, unfastening the front of his pants for good measure to give himself a bit of, shall we say, room to grow.

Ashley had paused in her struggle, teetering on her back, her thighs resting heavily on the squished pads of her breasts, panting heavily as she worked up the energy for another futile attempt.

His eyes followed the gleaming line of her neck down to her tightly mashed cleavage, then lower over the soft and hard plane of her almost-six-pack just visible between her arms, then lower still, past the edges of the letters peeking out above her panties, until he zeroed in on that soft round flesh presented to him by the sharp bend of her thighs, accentuated by the bite of the rope.

Without warning, he planted the ball of one foot against her outer thigh and shoved her roughly over onto her side. Before she could do more than grunt in surprise, he stepped over her, braced her body with his leg and her knee harshly with one hand, preventing escape, and brought the strap down across the creamy swell of her ass.

Her body jerked instinctively away from the stinging slap of the leather. She gave a breathy gasp and tried to take advantage of the slack he gave her to wriggle to freedom.

His fingers tightened instantly a moment before he brought the strap down again, enjoying the way her ass jiggled with each blow.

Ash could barely believe what she was hearing. And then she could barely believe what was happening.

But mostly she was just shouting and squealing as she twisted and struggled uselessly against John's grip as he smacked her ass over and over, and couldn't spare the attention to really make the effort of believing or disbelieving anything at all.

Her bottom had turned a fairly uniform shade of red by the time her body realized what her mind couldn't seem to grasp: that John only whipped her when she fought.

Though it was almost insurmountably difficult, she finally made herself lay still, her muscles going passively slack under John's hands.

Silent tears leaked out from under the blindfold as she worked to endure the burning pain searing her cheeks and upper thighs and she quietly sniffled, trying to keep her shoulders from twitching as she cried.

John felt his face soften slightly at the sight of Ashley whimpering and trying to cry unobtrusively.

He gentled his bracing touch by degrees, until his hand ceased to restrain her, and merely lay against her leg.

After a moment, he stepped around so that he could go down on one knee at her back, letting his hand trail slowly, gently up her thigh, stimulating the reddened, sensitized skin — a reward her for her obedience.

Ashley shivered and gave a breathy little whimper, and John felt a first little thrill of triumph at this little submission. People like Ashley were often uniquely suited to this sort of thing; they just didn't know it.

Half the fun was in proving it to them. He brought the strap to her skin once more, but this time he did not strike her; instead he dragged the leather up the blushing curve of her ass.

Ash drew a stuttering gasp, her back arching at the overwhelming sensation before a quiet sob broke loose around the gag, and she sagged back against him.

John caught her, easing her gently onto her back with a firm embrace. She didn't resist, and his cock jumped, eager as a puppy with a shiny new bone no pun intended.

Ashley hated that she was crying. Up until now the tears had been of frustration, pain, humiliation. But being held by Shepard… by John… morphed them into something else.

Something she'd never really cried about all through those two long years after he'd died. She hiccuped tearfully as John worked an arm under her back and angled her head and shoulders off of the floor, then gasped and shivered with a perverse and confounding euphoria as her abused bottom came into contact with the cold of the floor, sending stinging little shock-waves out into her body.

Damn it! It shouldn't feel good! He'd whipped her, and it still burned and ached relentlessly. But now, in the wake of the pain, her blood simmering with adrenaline and endorphins, each touch to the reddened skin also made her shiver and tingle with an intense, confusing… not-pain.

And that… not-pain… lit sparks through her nerves that settled as the beginning of a hungry ache low in her body.

More tears leaked out from under the blindfold. Ashley didn't cry. She was stronger than that. She was in control! Except that right now… she wasn't.

John was in control, and he was making her feel all sorts of things she shouldn't. And… just for him… just for right now… she could almost admit to herself that it felt pretty good.

There was a bit of shifting, and an instant later, with a little squeak of surprise, she was airborne. John scooped her up, displaying his strength by lifting her awkward tangle of limbs like she was light as air.

Yet more perversity, she decided, that she felt incredibly safe in the hands of the man that had abducted her, tied her up and beaten her.

But… it was John…. He deposited her in the middle of his bed. Ash sighed with relief, and maybe a little disappointment, at the soft, painless caress of the blanket on her sensitized posterior.

She tensed as he reached between her legs, hardly knowing whether she was eager or afraid, but all he did was untie one of the knots in the rope, releasing her wrists from her ankles.

Slowly, giving her shoulders time to adjust, he lifted her still bound arms over her head, and she felt several little jerks as he secured the lead to the headboard.

It was too much. To her absolute mortification, a moan freed itself from the back of her throat — just a little one!

A teeny, tiny, insignificant not-to-be-regarded moan! It was nothi…. Her heart skipped and her lower body clenched with anticipation of….

His hands curled outward and down over her outer legs to the knees, away from the ache between her legs, and it was a supreme effort not to whimper in disappointment.

She felt little tugs at the bands of leather bound around her lower thighs at the knee, and a moment's shifting revealed that her frog-tied legs were now secured to the bed on either side, holding them wide open.

Ash had little time to consider how she felt about this, as his hands made their way back up her legs, over her hips and up over her belly.

She felt them splay out, kneading and exploring her abs, inching lower, lower, and she couldn't help the way she gasped and bucked, her hips tilting upward in shameless invitation.

She felt one index finger skim the waist of her panties…. The finger slid away as his hands moved back up her body, skimming tortuously along the undersides of her breasts as his lips descended on her collar bone, hot mouth working its way up her neck.

Her back arched, pulling uncomfortably at her arms and legs, and this time, there was no denying the moan that escaped around the gag. One hand came up to toy with the straps holding it in place.

With a practiced hand, John unfastened the straps and carefully pulled the ball from her mouth, trailing glistening little strings of saliva.

She sighed breathily in relief, working the stiffness out of her jaw. A moment later, John's fingers were at her mouth, tracing her wet lips.

She was tempted to nip at them, but she didn't want to do anything until she was sure he'd approve. She felt good now, and still strangely safe like this; she didn't want to give him any excuse to spank her again.

The fingers slipped under the edge of her bra to spread her saliva over one achingly erect nipple. The ache between her legs was growing more persistent by the minute.

John's cock was twitching incessantly, and he was coming to profoundly regret his decision to tie her up with her underwear on, since he was becoming sorely tempted to forget this little game, impale her on his cock and fuck her senseless right here and now.

But he needed answers - and more importantly, she needed to give him answers, and believe it was her idea.

This wasn't just about instant gratification. This was about teaching her that in the bedroom, her pleasure came from pleasing him. It required careful grooming.

Even so, he didn't want to have to deal with shoving fabric out of the way when the moment finally came. Toying merrily with her breast in one hand, John reached down with the other and picked up a sharp pair of blunt-tipped shears that lay on the bed next to two little metal canisters.

He examined them critically in the light for a moment, then gave a little nod of satisfaction. He turned his hand so that he could touch her there with the back of his hand and feel them contract, knowing that other parts of her were doing the same thing lower down.

John didn't admonish her. Instead he pulled his hand out of her bra, then opened the shears and slid one blade up between her breasts, pulling the fabric tight away from her body.

John didn't admonish her again; he simply closed the blades. The sharp shears hissed through the cloth, and it snapped apart.

Her breasts leapt free of the fabric, bouncing jauntily with the rebound, her taught nipples waving merrily at him like old friends. But any scolding that might have been in it was steeply undercut by the way her head was thrown back in wanton abandon at the feel of her cool air on the flushed heat of her unrestrained breasts.

The only response Ashley received to her shout was a worrying little hiss as John picked up one of the canisters and used his thumb to break the chemical seal on the nozzle.

He felt it warm to an almost uncomfortable heat in his hand, and he darted his gaze over every inch of Ashley's exposed skin like a kid in a candy store.

Hmmm… Where to start? The sudden burning line of heat made her gasp and shiver, cooling from searingly hot to merely warm against her skin, and when he followed it down to lave the sweet-tasting gel away with his tongue, she sighed needfully.

Ashley whimpered and gasped as another burning line was drawn along the line of her rib cage, and she thought she might burst into flames as his tongue laved it away.

There was a second hissing sound, just like the first — another canister being opened. Ash heard him shift again, and held her breath, wondering deliriously where the pinprick of heat would take her this time.

A gasping moan shivered out of her when an icy cold stream of gel poured out over her abdomen, pooling in her belly button.

This time, the heat of his tongue was doubly stimulating as he lapped up the swiftly melting gel, the contrast of heat and cold making her bow upward off of the bed against his mouth.

For a while after that time seemed to dissolve into the background noise of reality as John reduced her to a creature of pure tension and sensation, heart pounding, body tingling as she teetered on a knife's edge of anticipation, wondering futilely what would be done to her next, never knowing what sensation she would be made to feel, where the next drop would fall, whether it would be a splash of heat or bite of cold, or how much or how little would dapple and drip over her glistening skin.

John began to get creative, painting her like a canvas. Any exposed piece of skin was fair game, from the hollow of her neck to the tips of her toes and seemingly anywhere in between.

And after each piercing shock of hot or cold, she waited with baited breath until she felt his mouth on her skin, devouring the sweet of the syrups and the salt of her sweat with equal fervor and driving the sharp spike of need between her legs ever higher.

Suddenly, to her ecstatic dismay, two contrasting streams of syrup, hot and cold sprayed forth to stream and splatter over the quivering mounds of her breasts, making her gasp and moan as liquid heat and clinging gelatinous cold dribbled and oozed over her nipples, trickling down over the curves and pooling in the valleys.

John looked down at the feast in front of him; Ashley lay panting and squirming, her mouth wide open as though in a silent scream of need. He could see her sex clenching and unclenching under the damp cling of her panties, like a hungry little mouth looking for something substantial to suck.

John's erection was all but bounding its way out of the front of his trousers in its haste to volunteer for the job. When he didn't immediately begin cleaning up the delectable mess oozing enticingly over her tits, she arched her back, thrusting them skyward and wordlessly begging him to lick them clean.

The degree of his own restraint in the face of the tableau in front of him was frankly astonishing. She mewled and bucked as two of his fingers slipped between her slick folds.

He began a slow, torturous massage of her folds, thoroughly stimulating her, but making sure to avoid her clit. At the same time, he bent his head over her glistening jugs and began licking, sucking and nibbling.

You were our hero… m-my hero… and now you're with them! But that's not all is it? He dipped one finger inside her opening, hooking it in to massage the sensitive inner wall.

Ash let out a moan so loud and deep that it felt like it vibrated all the way down to her toes, flexing her hips pitifully to no avail.

No one had touched her like this in at least two years three months, twenty-seven days and four hours but who was counting?

God, oh God, oh God, it was agony! He slowed his strokes again, licking a few stray drops of syrup from around the swell of her other breast like it was hot fudge on top of an ice cream cone.

I thought you were dead! He slid up her body, watching her face as he pleasured her. Hah… hah… ah! They clamped down tight on his fingers for a long, suspended instant, and then Ash collapsed into the mattress, panting raggedly.

He pulled his fingers out of her body, the friction sending delicious aftershocks through her, and when he pressed them to her lips, she automatically drew them into her mouth and began to suck the musk of her own fluids from them.

Don't ask how, I don't really understand it myself. But Ash, I'm not working for them. I might be working with them, but only as a means to an end.

The bed shifted and Ash gasped as the blindfold over her eyes was ripped away.

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