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The Bergman Affair	By : HunterOpera Category: +M through R > Metroid Views: 48055 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no money from this. Metroid, Samus, et al are owned by the people that own them, not me. Other M was an abomination in terms of narrative. I'm writing porn while being more respective of the characters...

Chapter List
- 1-The Bergman Affair
- 2-Arrival at YS7-23
- 3-Shaktool
- 4-Kaaye
- 5-Bormu
- 6-Draygon
- 7-Cavern
- 8-Kago
- 9-Zoomer
- 10-Yapping Maw
- 11-Vogl
- 12-Zebesian
- 13-Slaughter
- 14-Interlude
- 15-SporeSpawn
- 16-Jump
- 17-Cacatac
- 18-Zoomer II
- 19-Keaton
- 20-Slime
- 21-Big Time
- 22-Sylux
- 23-Brannigan
- 24-Hook
- 25-Mia Xen
- 26-Line
- 27-Atrocity
- 28-Horror
- 29-Sinker
- 30-Fear
- 31-Ridley
- 32-Wreck
- 33-Pulse
- 34-Light
- 35-Robot
- 36-Laboratory
- 37-Covern
- 38-Phantoon
- 39-Sakamoto
- 40-Madeline
- 41-Damara
- 42-Melissa
- 43-Samus Aran
- 44-Punishment
- 45-Healing
- 46-Finale and Acknowledgments
- 33
- 34
- 35
(Woot. Alright. Moving into the endgame, or at least closing in on it. All reviews, as always, will be replied to within a couple of days over here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/36931-metroid-the-bergman-affair-feedback-comments-and-workshopping/page-7 - just copy/pasta the url and join the conversation. Responses made there will be replied to more slowly, though I'll try and be quicker about this sort of thing. Thank you for for reading.)
Planet Daibon, GFDate 4034:0604
Vogl leaned back in his chair and sighed. It had been a long few weeks since Sylux had stomped through Daibon, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Through ceaseless backroom meetings, Vogl had managed to make the senseless destruction look like Keaton's fault. The current Chairman's species was well known for their selfish and sadistic ways, and there were many sentients who remembered when they had been confined to their planet.
“It makes sense that Keaton would enjoy this kind of attention,” a senator had confided in Vogl. “Other people dying would just amuse him.”
“But why was Sylux even after him?” another senator had asked.
“Who knows?” the first said, shrugging. “I mean, who knows what Keaton did before he got into politics? How much do we really know out chairman?”
Those few voices that brought up the fact that Sylux was well known for his hatred of the Federation were ignored; Sylux was a bounty hunter clearly acting on a bounty. Keaton had managed to evade the hunter only through the sacrifice of those citizens he was supposed to be protecting.
It helped that Keaton himself had nothing to say about it. Wherever the chairman was or whatever he was dealing with was consuming all his attention. It was a political mistake that was allowing Vogl and his increasingly vocal allies to control the framework of the argument and would ultimately see the impeachment of Vogl's hated rival.
“Hello, Vogl.”
He cringed at the voice, opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the Kaayes plant he still kept in his office. It was projecting the red form of his benefactor. He swallowed, hoping that she was unaware of his hope that she was dead.
“Delighted to see you, my dear friend,” Vogl said, smiling and nodding his head. “A pleasure to see you. It's been so long, I had feared that perhaps something had gone wrong.”
“A few technical difficulties,” the image said, shrugging. “Everything is fine now. Fine now.”
“Really,” Vogl said, his voice dry. “The situation with the Kriken looks a little more complex now. I've heard that Commander Higg's pet Terran managed to uncover something about the Kriken and the Kaayes.”
“Implying that the political alliance you were plotting with the Kriken by way of me is no longer politically viable,” his benefactor said, nodding her head. “Yes, I know. I know. I have something better to offer you.”
“And what would that be, dear lady?”
“A weapon to fight them with. To fight them.” The image grinned. “I can offer you the Hunter.”
Planet YS7-23, GFDate 4034:0604
Damara made certain that Samus was secured before waking her up. Steel wrapped around the Hunter's arms and legs, from wrist to elbow and knee to ankle, keeping her spreadeagled and suspended. She hung limply, held aloft by the robot that kept her harnessed. The steel being used was the sort of thing used to hold starship in place – not even her Chozo-enhanced strength would be enough to free her from that grip.
Even so, Damara ran a shaking hand along Samus' splayed limbs, tracing the musculature of each – the firm tones of thigh and bicep, her fingers tracing a path down Samus from neck, past chest and midriff before hooking into her still seeping cunt.
Damara hooked a finger inside her one-time icon, pulled it out and savored the taste.
She had dreamed of this moment for so long.
As soon as she was awake she was struggling. Damara let her for a time, feeling a little nervous as Samus pulled at each of her limbs, then turned her attention to her surroundings. Their eyes locked and Damara felt her mouth go dry, found herself wondering what to say.
“Hello,” she said, simply. Samus narrowed her eyes.
“Hi.” The silence between them grew, Samus unblinking as she glared helplessly. Damara wondered what to say next, but Samus took that worry from her with a single word. “Sylux.”
The name was an accusation. Damara hugged herself, dropping her gaze from that of her one-time hero.
“They did things to me,” she whispered. “I wanted to be like you, but they did... things to me.”
“What sort of things?” Samus asked. Her tone was conversational but forced, the same sort of tone the Federation torturers that had tormented her for so long had used. Damara felt her back spasm and took a deep breath.
She was the one in charge now.
Forcing a grin, Damara looked up the captive woman and stood tall, proud of the way she did not tremble as her hands went to her sides.
“I actually wanted to show you,” she said. Pausing for a moment, she went to one of the robots and retrieved an energy tether, the sort of thing meant to keep ships from drifting off in space. This was a weaker version, meant for atmospheres, and Samus looked at it with cautious eyes.
“What are you going to do?” Samus asked, so very flippant. “Tie me to something?”
“No, not at all.” Damara activated the device, lashed out with it a few times. “Melissa re-engineered this one for other purposes.”
“Melissa?” Samus scoffed. “It's a clone. A failed copy of me with Mother Brain's mind inside. You remember Mother Brain, right? She led the Zebesians, the people that killed your parents.”
“You killed Mother Brain,” Damara said, unsure what to feel. “Thank you for that. Melissa is something else entirely. It's a shame you can't see that.”
“My experiences have been, well, somewhat decisive,” Samus said, then laughed and shook her head. “It's so weird to be talking freely to someone again.”
“For a given value of freely,” Damara added, and the two women shared a laugh. Damara walked over to where Samus was bound, resting the palm of her free hand against the other woman's cheek. “You shot me.”
“You were Sylux,” Samus countered.
“Am,” Damara said. “Melissa reverse-engineered the suit in her laboratory. There's another one waiting for me there. There's a zero suit for you, too, or something like it.”
Samus said nothing. Damara brought the tether close to her bare midriff, small electrical arcs jumping from the long white energy line to Samus' skin. Damara could see that it bothered and excited the Hunter in equal measure.
“I have the collar Melissa meant to put on you,” Damara said, keeping her tone light. “I'm going to wrap it around your neck, but only when you ask me to.”
“And why would I ask you to?” Samus asked, her eyes narrowing.
Damara felt the smile on her face as she took a few steps back, her eyes never leaving that of the helpless captive spread so invitingly before her.
Planet YS7-23, GFDate 4034:0604
Samus struggled against the metal holding her. The cold metal dug into her flesh, holding her tight and raising gooseflesh despite the heat of the moon that had proven such an effective trap. Straining, she grit her teeth and pulled each of her limbs in turn, and then all of them at once – all the bindings fit snug around her fingers and toes, keeping each snug while denying her any sort of leverage.
Vaguely, she wondered how long she'd been unconscious. Had they cobbled this together on the spot, did they have a plan, or was the robot holding her equipped with some sort of variable harness?
Hopefully, it's that last one, she thought, starring back at Damara and trying to keep her expression neutral. I'd hate to think they were this prepared...
“Remember, Samus, this ends when you ask me to put the collar on,” Damara teased, running one of her fingers up her bound body, from inner thigh to cleft and up along her hip, pressing down against the edge of the bone.
“We're going to be here a while,” Samus grumbled, catching the other woman's eye. Damara scowled and cracked her makeshift whip, the white lightning leaving veiny leakings in the air as it hummed and seared the wind. Samus did her best not to flinch, but did look away the third time Damara cracked the whip in front of her.
Why aren't the Pusle Bombu attracted to the whip? she wondered, watching as the insubstantial creatures devour the emerald lightning that framed the world around the two of them.
“Always so sure of yourself, aren't you?” Damara sneered. “Always so sure that you're the hero, that you're in the right, that you can't be defeated...” Samus turned to look at the other woman, saw a hint of something in her eye that she could not identify.
Maybe she could have, but it was right then that the whip lashed out, circling around her ribcage, caressing her life a lover before emerging from behind her and snapping at her left nipple.
Samus' icy resolve shattered; she howled, looking down as the whip slithered away. Every place the lightning had touched was marked with a white glow that spread out along her skin, iridescent lines that heightened a terrible sense of pleasure where she had expected pain.
As Samus tried to adjust her expectations the whip lashed out again, circling up around her shoulder, looping around her back and up along her breast, coming to rest exactly where it had been before. Her body quake, the new path of illumination meeting what had been done already, sending fresh echoes of sensation rippling through her.
H-how is she hitting the s-same place? Samus thought, her eyes wide as Damara laughed and shouted something she couldn't understand, a third strike coming home yet again. Some k-kind of auto t-targeting...?
Her train of thought was shattered as another blow came, the pleasure of it tearing gasping cries from her throat, her tongue looping in an endless stream of vowels. Coherent thought was impossible. She was pulling at her bindings again, mindlessly trying to shield herself and failing as the fourth strike found her, a fifth. There was no possible escape.
She could feel her pleasure leaking down her inner thighs as her left breast shone.
Her shaking cries only seemed to encourage Damara, who took a perverse delight in what she was doing. Samus could see it in those brief moments of lucidity that flickered weakly and died – heartbeats when the light dimmed and the whip lashed out to embrace her anew and bringing all her suffering back to the fullest.
A looming threat of unconsciousness was coming to claim her and soothe her battered mind, but even that was denied her – Damara switched to her other breast, the whip finding a new home that brought every previous trail back to terrible life. She was cuming with every stroke now, her vision swimming in and out of focus.
She could feel something soft brushing against her back and realized it was her hair, matted and filthy, the only part of her that could still move freely as she tossed her head side to side with every stroke. She tried to focus on that, a single sensation over the cascading riptide that was threatening to drown her with every crack of the whip.
It was enough for her to find some words. A plea, a prayer, a desperate means to save her own sanity.
“I... w-want th-the... c-c...”
Damara laughed, the whip circling her and landing on her back. Samus cried, the words lost completely, the pathetic ragged whisper of her voice echoing in her mind.
“Not so mighty after all, are we?” Damara taunted, her eyes glinting with sadism and hurt. “Everyone call you the Hunter, but you're nothing more than prey...”
She couldn't see the lines that were drawn along her spine, but she could feel them. Damara was painting a portrait of light on her, every lashing forcing her whole body tense, she shaking uncontrollably and failing to form words out of her whimperings.
Damara was taking her time, now, the blows becoming almost ponderous as they traced designs along her shoulder blades, and Samus wasn't sure if Damara was writing words or simply doodling. She bowed her head, now, biting her lips, the soft sounds that escaped her only driving Damara to further creative acts as the whip traced her shoulderblades, her ribs, her spine.
Samus was only barely aware by the time Damara focused on her ass. Her hips bucked, wild from the pressure and the pleasure, firm flesh set to shaking and light. Closing her eyes, she tried to center her mind, tried to focus on anything other than the sensations that were ripping her mind to pieces, tried to form the words that would save her.
“P-please... I w-w-want th-the...”
Light flared into life along her belly. The whip was forming words, Damara writing things on her taut glowing skin, but Samus was far too gone to recognize what was being written. The trembling that rocked her belly forced the air from her lungs even as it brought everything else back to life, the throbbing weight of her ass and back and breasts.
It all flared to light, painting the world around her and Damara and silhouettes. Everything was painted in stark shades, and the only thing that felt real to Samus was the intensity that was melting away her sense of self. She tried to speak, tried to scream, but it was impossible to catch her breath when every new orgasmic lashing forced the breath from her lungs.
Time passed; how much, Samus could not say. The light on her skin made the light of the world around her a fading memory, and any hope of counting time was absurd when every lashing brought a soul-shattering orgasm along with it. If she could have formed a coherent thought she might have wondered how she was still conscious, how she was still able to twitch and throb and moan.
Damara wrote every part of her suffering along the length of her helpless body. The lash found her thighs and hips, her biceps and neck. Only her face was spared, a single spot of shadow in a world that was increasingly made of bright white light.
“This is what they did to me,” Damara hissed, though Samus could no longer understand the words. “And if you can't stand against it, well, what chance did I ever have...?”
Samus blinked, trembling in her bonds, trying to remember the words she was supposed to say that would make all of this stop. Her tormenter had just said something important, but Samus was lost in her own sweat and the trembling echoes of what had been done to her. Her head bowed, she tried to catch her breath, swallowed to try and find some moisture that wasn't pouring out between her shaking legs.
Head bowed and rolling bonelessly, she was forced to watch as the lightning came up between her legs, painting her lower lips, circling around and sucking at her clit. Her whole body flared back to light, her head forced back as every last muscle in her screamed with the pleasure of that orgasm, any remaining scrap of thought driven from her remnants of her mind. She shook in her bonds, unaware of anything other than the light that pulsed along her every nerve ending.
And then Damara did it again.
Several more times.
There was a time between, when Damara would wait for the orgasms to subside, for Samus to catch her breath and remember her name, herself, where she was, and then she would do it again. There was a moment between those shatterings when Samus was aware that her grinning nemesis was waiting for something – some prayer.
She could not say how long it took her to remember language, to remember what it was she was supposed to say. She managed it eventually, and the pleasure stopped. Cold steel found a home around her neck, Damara carefully making sure not to catch her hair as the metal closed shut with a quiet snap that haunted Samus. She closed her eyes, shaking as Damara pulled at her hair and forced her eyes open, forced their eyes to meet, and she knew.
Once, she had been the Hunter.
Now, she was prey.
- 33
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- 35
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The Bergman Affair