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Pride and Politics	By : HunterOpera Category: +M through R > Metroid Views: 31568 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Samus Aran or Metroid and am making no money from this.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Ah, friends. My good friends. Now that we're alone, do we wonder about our lovely little slave girl, about what Salis did to her and what's left in an empty little head? It certainly seems that Salis left a hollow doll for Olsar to play with, doesn't it?
She visits sometimes, our Salis. Sashays her way across Krais, hanging on Olsar's arm when he goes to galas or hosts celebrations. She's here with us now, dressed all in black, the shade of skin and hair seeping in the light as she sits by Olsar's side, light slithering from her eyes as she looks at the woman she broke and trained.
Do you wonder what she does here? She's not a prisoner, you know, the paperwork having gone through long ago – another quiet victory for the Baron, the redemption of a criminal. In polite company she smiles and talks frankly about her past, about how she reformed and now helps others reform. She and Olsar will smile and hold hands and it makes a good story, the philanthropist noble and the redeemed criminal.
In the right company, she'll talk about the merchandise she's training: slaves to work your fields, to guard your home, to warm your bed. Slaves for any purpose, catalogs of prisoners brought out so you can choose one to your liking. And if you have someone in mind, well, things can be arranged.
For a price, of course.
Some people talk about the time she caught a popular celebrity.
Others talk about the time she kidnapped and trained a famous racer.
And a very few talk about the time she was given the Hunter, Samus Aran, though only a handful know what was done to him...
... done to her.
Yes, Salis is given a lot of respect both in polite society. She's one half of a power couple, given to joining Olsar as he opens parks and orphanages, holding his hand while he donates hospitals and libraries, snoozing on his shoulder at political rallies. There's talk the two of them might get married in the tabloids, and the Nebari Establishment has given their blessing and made her a royal so that their union might happen.
And in the underworld, Salis is feared. She's quiet and unassuming, not much of a fighter, but she's good at reading people and better at breaking them. She's sometimes brought in to interrogate prisoners. Often when this happens, she performs in front of a crowd. There's a lot of people that will pay good money to watch a master at work.
Besides, there is more to a sex slave's life than being broken and knowing how to fuck. There's providing entertainment, and Salis has so much to work with when it comes to Samus Aran.
The former Hunter is an athlete, lithe and strong and powerful. She's a high jumper and a fast runner, graceful as a bird and so very firm. She's a piece of art, impossible not to appreciate in the Kanvian slave attire... but there are times when other outfits serve a better purpose.
It's a new game, one Samus has spent months learning. She's wearing clothes and even now she's uncomfortable in them, both because she's not used to wearing clothing anymore and because these clothes make her look like a slut; somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, some scrap of the old Hunter remains and cries about her dignity, her agency.
The rest of Samus knows that both those qualities are no longer hers to worry about.
A pair of shoes have been locked around her ankles, long lines traveling up her calves and thighs, settling around her hips and connecting to a lock at the small of her back. They force her feet to arch painfully, but she knows she has to smile, to pout, as these shoes force her to strut and shake her ass like the whore she has become.
The tie at the small of her back is hidden underneath a light-blue skirt that descends an inch below her ass. It's only marginally larger than the cream-colored halter around her chest. There's a collar around her throat with a large clip, currently leashless, but that could and will change later.
She's standing behind a curtain. Her owner is sitting there with some of his friends, waiting for her. It's a small crowd, a special crowd, people that know who she was before her owner made her this. She's closed her eyes and she's having trouble breathing, biting her lip and whimpering as Salis speaks:
“Once, we were taking our piece from the galaxy,” Salis announced. “We were happily doing business when some fucking busybody decided to get in our way. We all thought that she was a man, but our dear Baron discovered the truth – and now she's decided to use her busy body to remind us all that she is a woman. I present the one, the only, Samus Fucking Aran.”
The room outside darkened, leaving only a spotlight on the stage Samus would be given. The curtain fell and another spotlight fell on her; she opened her eyes, forced a smile and moved her hips, knowing all too well the cost of displeasing her trainer and owner.
Music filtered into the room, the beat heavy and familiar as she struts forward, licking her lips and leaving her mouth open, her eyes wide as her hand grips the pole so she can twist, twist and bend, twist and strut.
The crowd hollers approval at her, hooting, and when one of them lifts his cup she crawls across the stage and takes a sip, letting the man pet and paw her before she moves back. The lights are warm and the eyes are leering, Samus' cheeks flushed. She does not want to be here. Her fear and her obedience keep her from fleeing anywhere else.
Long legs sway in time with the music, sleek arms lifting so her pretty tits can shake, her taut belly looking so very lickable. Her hard nipples rubbed against the fabric, the small pins inside agitating them and making them stand even as she wanted to pull the halter off and throw it away.
Not yet, though.
There were still two songs to get through before that happened.
She faces the pole and grasps it, letting her hands slide down and her body bend, ass sticking out towards her audience. She remembers to turn back and look at them, smiling, to stand and move her hands over to the side, to raise her wrists and cross them and look back at the lusty faces of criminals she had hunted in a previous life.
Rising up, hands still above her head, she grasps the pole and uses it to keep steady as she bends and spreads her legs, bouncing up and down as coins are tossed on the stage, glinting reflected light on her slutty flesh. She simpers, falling onto her palms, picking up each coin with her mouth and crawling in time with the music.
Her owner places a cup on the stage, a place for her to drop the coins she has collected...
She stands, straightens up, turns her back to the audience and then twists her neck to look at them, shaking her ass as a clear invitation as she slips the halter up and off, flinging it to one lucky witness of her humiliation. Salis smiles, nods, and Samus forces her smile to stay as she continues to strut and preen in time to the music.
Falling to her knees, she pushes her breasts up, squeezing her chest with her hands, letting her mouth fall open and eyes fall half-closed. She fondles herself with one hand while the other goes lower, below the line of her skirt and panties, she touching her dripping cunt before pushing her back against the pole, pushing herself up again, kicking her leg up, spinning, wiggling as she pushes the skirt down her sleek thighs then calves then ankles then feet and kicking it off the stage with one long outstretched leg.
More coins thrown on the stage, Samus with only panties and heels to protect her as she crawls around the stage on her belly, debasing herself as she picks up the coins, sips at drinks, licks sauces and sucks food from cruel fingers. Every coin she earns goes to her owner, and why wouldn't it?
Samus Aran has no need of money.
Samus Aran is a slave.
Rising to her feet, Samus shakes, moans, smiles as she hooks her thumbs in her panty line, stretching the gossamer fabric, pulling it into and against her lower lips and whimpering as she does so. Soon, she's naked except for the collar and heels, her hands rubbing up and down her pussy lips, pulling them open to reveal the most intimate parts of her to the lustful mob. She's dripping her arousal, that mingling with the sweat. She's been dancing for seven songs and there's seven more to go, the music of each offering some new debasement for her to endure in front of her rapt audience.
By the time it's done, Samus has masturbated herself with her fingers, sucked off a dildo in the center of the stage, ridden cocks in both her cunt and her ass and then both at the same time, kept the cocks in her ass and cunt while sucking off the dildo, and raised herself up, lifting a leg and opening herself, allowing anyone that wants to come and touch her and feel how slick she is.
Then the music stops and she is alone on the stage. Her eyes meet Salis' gaze.
Salis offers a slight nod and Samus forces herself to smile.
“Would any of you like to fuck this worthless slave?” she pants, her voice a breathy whisper.
After that, she is not alone on the stage for very long.
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Pride and Politics