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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
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Alista waited til the door closed behind her before letting out a deep breath and letting her shoulders sag.
“We're alone,” Alista said, glancing at the corner where Samus Aran had been left.
The two had been taken to LoMo, a planet on the edge of the uncharted territories. Environmental controls kept the temperature pleasant at all times and manipulated the sky through various shades of blue. Most of the buildings were white stone, a few shades brighter than the white gold and that made up the beaches and streets, highlighting the emerald and jade flora that decorated the villages.
Olsar had a special residence here – since taking over the Kanvian Empire, he had done a brisk business providing LoMo with slave stock to work the hospitality industry that was LoMo's primary attraction and provided the souls of political rivals to be harvested for freslin, LoMo's drug of choice.
Just then, Olsar, Salis, and Braca were getting high on Vhozon fumes, a paladin of that species providing an unwilling thrill that was shared by some of the wealthiest people on the planet. The alien warrior had been brought down in a sting operation by Bekhesh for that very purpose, the Tavlek warrior keeping an arm to brew his own special narcotics.
Through the window of the upper-level rooms in the palace the LoMo government had granted Kanvia as an embassy, Samus Aran had been left kneeling, her legs spread and hands clasped behind her head. She was shaking with exhaustion when Alista came in, would have slumped to the floor had Alista not hurried over and caught her.
“Are you okay?”
“I've been left in that position for hours,” Samus growled. “Give me a few minutes, my legs are asleep.”
“You'd find a way to crawl over here if I was Salis.”
“Sure, but it would hurt. And you're not her.”
“Let's be grateful for small favors.”
It always amazed Alista how accurately the Hunter was able to gauge her recovery times, friends, the way the Chozo-altered human had a deep understanding of her own body and its processes. Salis had taken her own extensive notes on what the Hunter was capable of and Alista had learned how to access them; she sometimes wondered if she knew more about what Samus could take than Samus herself, but then she would do something like what she was doing now.
The Hunter had pulled away, sitting cross-legged with her back straight, hands cradled between her thighs. She closed her eyes and kept breathing, steady and rhythmic, until her limbs stopped trembling and the sweat sheen on her skin cooled and dried. When her eyes opened they were clear, fierce.
“Tell me again why we're keeping up this facade?” Samus asked, standing without aid. Alista hadn't told Samus that she had set up a secondary recording feed, one that their captors could review and a private one for the deposed princess. The latter recorded Samus' curves and stance when she thought she was free, and in those moments when Braca was distracted and not paying attention, she liked to watch them, toying with herself at the sight of the woman she would own when this was done.
“We're outmanned and outgunned,” Alista answered, slipping a datapad from her brother's things and keying in a code that her brother would not have known. “No one knows who you are and everyone believes I'm a criminal. We need proof to undo the damage my brother has done-”
“I could get it,” Samus said, stretching. “Cut me loose and watch me go.”
“They'd stop you and our cover would be blown,” Alista said, sitting on the bed and watching her. “We've got one shot at this.”
“You heard what I did during the hunt.”
“Yes, it was very impressive,” Alista said, motioning Samus to come sit down beside her. “But it was only possible because I cut the video feed, provided a scapegoat, and was able to stop your collar from working in that one instance.”
Samus touched the smooth steel that circled her neck and frowned.
It was a smooth piece of blue steel, a twin of the one around Alista's throat in everything but color. There were no seams, no apparent way to open it, no sign that it was anything other than a single piece of metal that had been fitted around her throat. It felt like it was molded to her skin, its touch not uncomfortable save that its weight was a constant reminder that it was there. Four silver buckles could slide in and out of it, one at the nape of her neck and one at her throat, the other two at her sides.
They were designed to never be far from the mind of the slave wearing them, friends. Every person trapped by one would know always what they had been reduced to, would know that their freedom was a thing of the past and that their submission was inevitable.
Alista glanced at the green metal with golden buckles around her own neck and shuddered.
Soon.
“Stop the collar from working?” Samus repeated, her tone incredulous. “What do you mean?”
“The collars around our necks are a little more complex than you might suspect.” Alista licked her lips, watching as the other woman walked over to a nearby mirror and studied the smooth metal. “Trainers normally explain how they work and what they can do to slaves to discourage rebellion-”
“Normally?” Samus asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes, normally,” Alista shrugged. “Criminals in most of the Federation are kept in cells. We put them to work and sell them off. It bolsters our economy.”
“And how's that working out for you?” Samus smiled with mocking sweetness.
Alista frowned but said nothing.
“I know this is the culture that you grew up in, but slavery is wrong,” Samus said, crossing her arms. “I'd think, given our circumstances, you might have some sympathy for that idea.”
“Be that as it may, this is what we have to deal with,” Alista whispered, dropping her gaze from that of the Hunter, clutching the datapad in her hand. You'll serve and you'll like it. “And as I was saying, slaves are normally given to understand what the collars can do over the course of their training, but Salis had something different in mind for us.”
Samus nodded, silent, urging her to go on.
“The jolt that took you down during the hunt didn't come from the guns,” Alista said, keeping her voice level. “The guns fire a tight beam that activates a function of the collar. Would you come here, please?”
Samus glared but came closer, sitting next to Alista on the bed.
Good girl, Alista thought but did not say. Instead, she reached up and grasped the buckles at the front of the Hunter's collar, sliding it out of the metal and holding it. Samus tried and failed to resist as the smaller girl pulled her down.
“There's a filament in the collar that bores into the nape of your neck and sends out a mesh that infests your central nervous system,” Alista explained, keeping the Hunter's head bent over her lap. “You're stronger than me, right? But the collar will keep you from using your strength when you're being directed.”
“I don't feel any weaker.”
“That's part of its charm,” Alista said, letting go. Samus sat back up, her hand going to the metal. “Did you think about prying my fingers off the buckle?”
“No,” Samus said, drawing out the single word.
“Yeah.” Alista stood, her hand cupping Samus' cheek. “It keeps you from thinking about obvious means of resistance. You might try to pull away, but you'll never think of fighting back. It puts a fog over your mind so that when you fight back you'll do it in ways where you cannot win.”
“And you think this is anything less than evil...?” Samus whispered, horrified.
“I never really thought about it at all,” Alista admitted, sighing as she took her hand away from the Hunter's cheek, turning her back to the other woman and hugging herself. “It's insidious.”
“When I got shocked during the hunt...” Samus started, then paused. Alista turned to see the Hunter's eyes dropping, as if she were ashamed of something. “I'm used to pain, but I'd never felt anything like that.”
“The filament attached to your nervous system can tell how much pain you can take and slips underneath whatever resistance you think you have,” Alista answered, and this time when she shuddered it was for real – she remembered all too well the times Braca had administered shocks on her for being an uppity little bitch.
She had learned obedience quickly.
“I'm pretty tough,” said Samus, though she sounded uncertain.
“The collars don't care.” Alista touched the front of her collar, where the buckle was – she could not pull it out. “A slave can't control her own collar, the collar controls the slave. It knows how to hurt you. Are you willing to take my word for it or do you need me to shock you again?”
“No,” said Samus, the note of panic in her voice startling them both. Alista turned to look at her, saw a flicker of fear in the Hunter's eyes. “No, I get it.”
“No, you don't,” Alista said, biting her lip. “There's other functions.”
Alista pressed the datapad screen.
Samus gasped, cheeks flushed, a small moan escaping her lips as her fingers curled into the sheets below her. Her moans became louder, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to make sense of the sensations that were ravaging every nerve under her flesh, a pleasant warmth wrapping her in a mind-shattering haze.
Alista allowed herself to smile at the sight, knowing Samus was too far gone to see the expression before it vanished. She touched the datapad a few more times, limiting Samus' understanding of passing time and her general awareness, and settled in to watch as the Hunter quivered.
Long legs akimbo, Samus' right hand mauled her chest as her left sought the slippery mouth between her legs, feeding it as she let out a long lusty sigh, her fingers running over her clit. Alista watched as the Hunter's pleasure rose on the datapad, presented as information, as Samus was about to cum she touched the screen again to stop the Hunter from cresting that edge, keeping her hungry.
Smiling, she brushed a finger along the datapad again and Samus' body sagged down, her ragged breathing labored. One arm raised with a languid grace, her fingers tugging at her hair, her legs still twitching and thighs soaked.
“What was that...?” Samus breathed.
“The other side of the rainbow,” Alista answered. “The filament charts every corner of what you can feel and can mimic any sensation and then amplify it.”
Samus sighed, pushing herself up on her elbows.
“It could keep you from getting mad, if I wanted it to,” Alista said. “There's almost nothing I can't make you feel, but it's always going to be taken to an extreme.”
Which is a lie. What I'm not going to tell you, she thought, is that I'm leaving a low-key feeling of pleasure in your mind for whenever I speak to or touch you. You'll worship me and you'll never know why.
The one thing Olsar got right is that you can't trust anyone you don't control. He has the means to ruin everyone around him and that keeps them in line. He's a brute and an idiot – I'm going to get you addicted to me, Hunter, and like any addict, you'll crave me enough to do anything I want, and won't that be nice?
“What else can it do?” Samus asked, propping herself up on one elbow, frowning, visibly struggling to keep from touching herself. Alista moved closer and helped Samus sit up, smiling at the way the Hunter slid off the bed and nuzzled against her thigh.
“It can track you anywhere within the Kanvian Empire and the surrounding systems,” Alista explained, looking down and resisting the urge to run her fingers through Samus' hair. “It can knock you out or choke you. It's set to explode if it comes off without the proper code-”
“How do you take them off?”
“You need a special access code, which I don't have,” Alista lied. “Getting them on is simpler – you just touch the ends together around someone's neck and it'll shut seamless, then wait about thirty seconds for the filament to settle.”
“That's it?” Samus asked. Alista touched the datapad again.
“To get it on and off, yes, but there's still more things it can do. Do me a favor, try to speak.”
Samus tried but found she couldn't. Frowning, she turned to face Alista as the other woman touched the datapad, and this time when Samus spoke all her words were turned into birdsong.
“They didn't need to put that ball in your mouth back during the hunt,” Alista explained, touching the datapad again. “They can take either of our voices away any time they want.”
“Is there anything else?” Samus growled.
“It can limit where you go,” Alista said, and this time she did run her fingers through Samus' hair, thrilling as the dangerous animal pressed her scalp into the former princess' palm “Invisible fences that can be set to hurt you or pleasure you or render you unconscious if you don't return to your pen while alerting your owner as to your location. What are you doing?”
This last was because Samus, down on her knees, had placed her palms on the floor and begun kissing Alista's inner thigh. At her words she looked up, sheepish and flushed.
“I thought...” Samus swallowed her words, looking down. “I...”
“It's okay,” Alista said, smiling and forgiving as she touched Samus' cheek and then stood up. She walked across the room, swaying her hips, knowing that the Hunter was staring at her with hunger and want. She reset the datapad to hide her use of it and turned back to the woman by the bed. “I should go.”
Samus whined but nodded, still watching as Alista padded to the door.
“Samus...?” Alista said, biting her tongue to keep from laughing at the hopeful expression that crossed the Hunter's face. “You need to get back into position.”
Samus flushed and grimaced and nodded again, crawling back to the place that Alista had found her in. She spread her legs open, kneeling, her desire dripping down onto the carpet below her as she raised her arms and folded them, clasping her hands behind her neck.
Only then did Alista kneel down and kiss her, once and gentle, their lips parting and Samus looking surprised.
“I'll be back when I can,” Alista whispered, cupping Samus' face in her hands. “We're going to be okay.”
“Thank you,” whispered Samus, bowing her head, dropping her gaze.
Alista stood, left the room, locked the door behind her and assumed her slave posture and walk as she returned to Braca's quarters, retrieving the datapad she had there and checking it. The Hunter was feeling deeply unsatisfied, alone, not daring to bring herself off and thinking of the princess that had touched her.
Meanwhile, her brother, her owner, and the bitch that had broken her were all high and useless, lost in throes of pleasure. They might call for other slaves and indulge in an orgy; Alista had set protocols to warn her of their return.
Satisfied that she had time, her fingers slid between her legs as she reviewed all that had just happened on her datapad, smiling to herself and feeling her muscles tighten as she came.
Everything was going according to plan.
*
Alright. Endgame and false endgame are now both set. Let's get into the meat of the plot and some more smut. Exposition is done and we can now return to the story as a whole, knowing what those collars can do. Questions? Comments? Leave a review and I'll respond to it over at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/36931-metroid-the-bergman-affair-feedback-comments-and-workshopping/?page=15. Thanks for reading, and more soon.
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Pride and Politics