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Pride and Politics	By : HunterOpera Category: +M through R > Metroid Views: 31560 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Samus Aran or Metroid and am making no money from this.

Chapter List
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“What happened?!” Olsar roared.
A day has passed since the hunt had been prematurely closed due to casualties, five of Olsar's most trusted guards brutally slaughtered. A group calling itself the Kanvian Liberation Front had claimed responsibility, putting out a holovid that, even now, Olsar was seething over.
“Our rightful leaders were murdered by their son, who set up their good daughter to take the fall for his crimes,” a shadowy monoblue hologram asserted. Olsar stood facing it with hands clenched into fists, staring at it head-on. “Our empire has suffered a coup and is now run by a criminal, using our people to further his criminal interests.”
Olsar threw as chair at the hologram, which did nothing more than fall through it. Braca, behind him, clicked a button to silence it as it droned on.
“We have no idea who this is?” he asked, turning to face another hologram – not a recording but a live-cast, sent from a secret location somewhere else in the empire.
“No,” Bekhesh said. “If we did they would not be alive.”
“Then fucking find them,” Olsar hissed. “Let me know when you do and we can kill them together.”
“The figure is female,” Salis noted, walking around the silenced hologram, tracing the outlined curve with a thoughtful frown. “Pretty, I'd guess. We could send her to Ariime. I'd like to hear her voice without modulation.”
“It's not modulated,” Braca murmured, shrugging as everyone turned to him. “It's a collection of manipulated sound files built to resemble a voice. Even the figure is a composite of several different images meant to look like no one. It's clever.”
“Our enemy is clever. That does not help us now,” Bekhesh grunted, arms crossed over his chest as he turned to look at Olsar. “We should kill your sister.”
“What?” Braca spat, sitting up. Alista was curled at his feet, her arms limp behind her, one hand holding the other. She was only barely covered by a green-hued Kanvian slave dress that complimented her tanned skin. Her cheek was resting on Braca's thigh, her lips slightly parted, her eyes downcast and empty. “No. She belongs to me and I'm not willing to give her up.”
“Besides, look at her,” Salis smiled. “There's nothing left of her now. She's no threat to us, not any more than the Hunter.”
All save Alista turned to look at Samus Aran, the sole survivor of the rebellious assault, and remembered.
She had been found covered in blood and cum, having clearly been caught and raped before the attack began, but for whatever reason she'd been left behind unmolested. When the authorities arrived the slave had been lying passively, waiting to be taken.
She had been taken.
Repeatedly.
And then she had been brought home.
Now, she danced by the wayside in the large room, purpling twilight creeping in through the windows and reflected off the emerald canopy below them. She dressed in pretty blue gossamer, her eyes empty as her hips shook back and forth. She spun, showing the soft curve of her ass, thighs taut as she pushed herself off the plush burgundy carpets and up on her toes before spinning back around, curling her legs with a simple grace. Her wrists were tied and she lifted them above her head in time to a slow soft tune that drifted around them from speakers embedded in the ceiling along. Every panel was also a controlled light, the chosen hue a soft calming blue that was failing at its intended purpose. Samus herself stood on a stage with a spotlight shining down on her, shadows and hair covering the gleaming collar that was always around her throat.
A small show just for those assembled, a show ignored as Olsar and his inner circle debated what to do next.
They had all been there for Samus' debriefing, friends, and even now they all felt little more than hunger at the thought of that time...
Samus Aran had been brought before them a shuddering sticky doll. She had been taken, her wrists tied together and then her single binding attached to a hook that lifted her up and off her feet. Toes pointed downwards and brushing the cement floor as she whimpered soft, eyes downcast and incomprehending.
When the cold water had hit her she'd put up a bit of a fuss, kicking a little, sputtering, but her reality soaked in as much as the soap that was gristled into her with stiff brushes, washing off the grim and cum and any inclination of resistance that might have slithered up from what was left of her soul.
As she hung gasping Olsar had stood while Salis walked around her, running a hard leather crop along the softest parts of her skin, enjoying the way she shied and whimpered.
“What happened?” Olsar barked, his volume alone causing the slave-animal to flinch.
“Sir, this slave doesn't know, sir,” whispered Samus. Salis struck with the crop along Samus' flank, her ass, her chest. She screamed, writhing as a metal core in the leather sent blue light arcing along Samus' body, white flesh turning a sizzled pink.
“I'm going to beat you,” Salis cooed, nuzzling against the bound Hunter. “I'm going to beat you and then your master is going to ask again. And until we like your answer, little pet, you're going to keep getting beaten.”
Salis began soft, running the leather along the crying slave's calves and thighs, pushing her pert breasts up and letting them fall, even rubbing the fleshy length along Samus' jawline without activating the cruel electric current held within. She reared back and let the leather curse the air, laughing when Samus struggled to escape before finally pressing the leather against her and letting the blue lightning dance along Samus' flesh.
The beating had been fierce after that; Salis had started on Samus' back, driving the breath from her lungs until her cries were soft sobs, until her shoulder blades were a crosswork of smoking pink lines. The leather in her hands moved lower, down between the crack of her ass and then lower, slithering along her inner thighs.
“Lift your left leg, slave,” Salis commanded.
Samus shook and shook her head, heedless.
Salis sighed, letting the leather trail to her outer left thigh.
“Raise your leg, cunt, til your knee touches your chest,” Salis said, “I'm going to beat you til you do and then beat you for your resistance. You're just making this worse for yourself.”
Samus did nothing.
Salis made good on her threat.
The beating started on Samus' outer thighs, building a patchwork of hissing pink skin and blue light that shattered under flesh, fraying nerves until there were no screams left in her.
“Are you ready to obey?” Salis taunted.
“... yes, mistress.”
“Good girl,” Salis cooed, gently brushing Samus' face with the leather. “Let's get you healed up.”
It took a quarter-hour, applying a soothing cream to the simmering flesh, settling the pink back to the same paleness as the rest of slave-pet. Salis took her time, letting fingers linger before stepping back to admire her work.
“Now, then, lift up your leg.”
Samus did as she was told, exposing herself as Olsar stepped forward, unbuckling his formal fine pants and stepping out of them as he closed the distance, stroking himself, aiming his weapon, entering her in one smooth motion.
It was distressing, the wetness between her thighs, the way her body reacted to torture.
“Tell me what happened, slave,” Olsar commanded.
And as she rode her master's cock, keeping her leg lifted to give him easier access to her, she panted out what she remembered – people with guns coming out of the trees, a small group that surprised those that had brought her down and fucked her, beating them to death with savage intent.
“Was that so hard?” Salis cooed, nibbling on Samus ear as the Hunter bounced on her owner's manhood, cheeks flushed as she moaned pleasure. “Now, the beating you were promised...”
Olsar grinned as Salis began striking Samus' ass with the electrified leather, Samus' screams a mix of want and agony, her mind snapping under the pull of one sensation and then the other. She spasmed on Olsar's dominion of her, eyes glossy, empty, broken, her cries turned to soft gasping as her self broke, electric arcs sheering under the flesh along her thighs and back, spiraling out from her ass like a hurricane.
Her master screamed his own pleasure at owning her, taking her, her vaginal lips suckling on his cock, his seed coating her like never before.
She had learned – resistance brought only pain, but obedience mingled that pain with pleasure...
And now she danced, her skin healed but her mind still broken, her breasts and hips swaying in invitation. She craved pleasure without the pain, and if she was a good girl she believed that they might even give it to her.
“We have a trade deal to solidify,” Olsar grimaced, running his hands through his hair. “A whole new market we can open up and take over. I don't have time for this.”
“Then send your sister here,” Bekhesh offered. “It's the most secure place in your empire.”
“She's not going anywhere without me,” Braca grumbled.
“Short-term, my friend,” Olsar answered. “I need you and Salis at the negotiation table.”
“We can drop off the slaves with Bekhesh on our way,” Salis nodded, sitting down to watch the way Samus swayed. “We'll take our pleasure from them until then, and again when the negotiations are done.”
Braca grumbled but agreed, kicking Alista away from him.
“Slave, take Samus to our ship,” he said. “We'll meet you there. I want you in position four. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master,” whispered Alista, climbing languid to her feet. She padded over to the Hunter, friends, attached a leash to the other slave's collar.
“No one said you could walk, Samus,” Salis said, smiling from across the room. “Crawl.”
Only Alista caught the murder that danced in the Hunter's eyes. Only Alista realized how good an actor that Samus had become.
And she said nothing as Samus fell to her knees, palms on the cool floor. She crawled, shaking her ass as she swayed out of the room on hands and knees, Alista a little behind her.
The masters turned their attention to one another, continuing to talk as the door closed behind them.
Samus knew she needed to keep the act up; Salis had explained to her the plan that would get them back to where her things had been taken so that she could be properly armed before seeking revenge. There were things the former princess could do, Samus knew, to help her, and things she could not do. The two were allies, Samus believed. They would have their revenge.
Alista, free from anyone looking at her, let a small smile cross her lips. She had the best possible ally and things were falling into place. If she played this right she would depose her brother and get to keep Samus Aran for herself – a bodyguard, a pet, an instrument of her will.
She could have released Samus before her brother's men had raped her but had held off, wanting Samus to know how dependent she was. Alista was confident that the Hunter knew who held the keys to her freedom but wanted the point driven home with the same hard certainty that Salis preferred, all with a gentle touch that would keep Samus from ever knowing how badly she was being played.
Everything was going according to plan.
Soon, friends, Alista would have more than she ever could have wanted.
*
And so the story continues. Alista has plans, Samus has plans, and their enemies have plans... who wins? What happens next? Let me know what you think in the comments or over at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/36931-metroid-the-bergman-affair-feedback-comments-and-workshopping/?page=15, where all responses are answered (eventually). I'll be posting something new on Friday, and then we'll return here on Monday to continue with this tale. Thanks for reading~!
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Pride and Politics