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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Samus was unbalanced, unsure of herself for only a moment. She had been caught off guard, friends, stripped while unconscious and wrapped tight within a straitjacket, taken to some world she knew not where. This was not the first time this had happened to her but it was the first time where it wasn't among friends.
We can forgive her, then, that delicious moment of fear.
So many things went through her mind as she scowled and looked up at the monochrome woman above her, but the one that defined her in that moment was this: I am the Hunter, not some whimpering prey. She growled, twisted her shoulder and kicked out, trying to free herself and attack all at once.
Licking her lips, Salis brushed the Hunter's legs aside with a casual ease that worried Samus – her long legs were muscled, powerful, and Salis did not look anywhere near strong enough to dismiss her so.
Salis offered no explanation, and why would she? It was important for slaves to feel powerless in training, moreso for a slave like this one. The track marks on her thigh might have given her the idea that she had been weakened but she felt strong as ever. It had taken Salis years to get the chemical composition just right, but her access to Chlorium had allowed her to perfect it.
The Hunter thought she was as strong as ever when Salis pulled her up by the collar of her jacket, one hand gripping fabric and the other her ass. Samus roared as she struggled, seething as she felt the belt of the jacket dig into her cleft, her captor overwhelming her, pinching her and shaking her until her vision grew fuzzy.
“You should be glad, Samus,” Salis teased, the Hunter's spoken name full of mockery. “I've decided to handle your case personally.”
The warden backed away from the platform, her fingers trailing down Samus' puffed out chest, her bound arms, her encased midriff, hooking the line that connected the front of the jacket to the back. Samus winced as that belt was pulled taut, the warden pulling the Hunter deeper into the room with a violent intimacy.
“You should thank me,” Salis said, spinning and pushing Samus' back against the wall, her palm holding the Hunter in place and pushing her down so they could look one another in the eye. Salis grinned, head tilting back and eyes narrowing, her free fingers wrapping in Samus' ponytail and pulling, her lips closing the distance when Samus gasped.
Samus thought about biting but the warden pulled the Hunter's tongue into her own mouth, held it there with her teeth, gentling brushing the muscle with her own. Samus moaned as the warden's thigh pressed against the tight belt in her sex, the surprise and hardness enough to keep her off-balance and pinned.
When Salis broke the kiss Samus was panting.
“W-what...?” managed Samus. The warden slapped her.
“You've been sentenced to sexual slavery for your crimes, Samus,” Salis pouted. “Try to keep up.”
The warden let Samus go and the line dangling from the back of the straitjacket went tight, pulling the Hunter off her feet and dragging her back to the platform in the center of the room. She landed hard, wind knocked out of her again as the warden sauntered after her, a thoughtful look on her face.
“Let's take a look at you,” she said. “Lift you up a little.”
The platform began to lower as two lines like the one at the back of the straitjacket descended from the ceiling. The warden looped these underneath Samus' arms with an unhurried precision, humming to herself and occasionally batting a leg to one side when Samus tried to kick her.
“That should do,” Salis said, placing a hand on Samus' breast, pushing herself up. She tapped some buttons on her wrist and Samus felt herself lifted, the line at her back tugging downward while the lines on her shoulder dragged her kicking and screaming into the air.
She was almost half a foot taller than her captor, she thought, but even with her toes stretched she could no longer touch the ground. Dangling, helpless, Salis walked around her and considered her.
“You've got lovely legs, Samus.” The Hunter hated the way the warden said her name, drawling it like an insult. “A nice pert ass and a tight cunt, judging by the way you're hugging that belt. You should fetch a high price to whomever ends up buying you.”
Samus kicked as the warden danced in and out of range. The Hunter was trapped, frustrated, her shoulders aching from supporting all her weight. She was cold and sweating, feeling out of sorts and not sure what to do as the warden closed the distance between them. Fingers brushed the shivering skin of an inner thigh.
“Let's take a look at that cunt,” Salis said, looking up into the Hunter's eyes. Samus screamed and tried kicking but Salis brushed the attacks aside with a bored disdain, tears of frustration seeping into the Hunter's eyes as the belt digging into her slippery folds was loosened and pulled free.
“Enjoying yourself, Samus?” the warden teased. Samus felt fingers tracing her entrance, pulling her open to reveal how wet she had become. “What pretty little holes you have here...”
Samus' eyes went wide, her head shaking wildly as the warden entered her, pushing into her tight little hole and then pulling free. The Hunter could only watch, horrified and violated, as the warden licked her fingers clean.
“I asked you a question, Samus,” the warden said. Samus forced herself to meet her rapist's gaze as she arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to answer...?”
“W-what?”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
The warden grinned, pulling a baton that had been attached to her thigh, pushing Samus' dangling legs open and teasing Samus' folds with it, rubbing back and forth and then inside as the Hunter's breath became a ragged shallow whimpering.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“N-no...”
“Wrong answer.”
The baton shifted, pressed into her, pushed past her defenses and entered her. Samus screamed, then shrieked as electricity tore into the most sensitive nerves in her body, a seething agony that silenced her every thought and robbed her of every awareness that was not connected to the pain.
She was twitching when it stopped. Weeping openly.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“W-hat...”
“Wrong answer.”
And the process repeated.
The next time the warden asked Samus the question, the Hunter managed to answer with a shaking yes.
“Answer in a complete sentence,” Salis said, licking her lips as the baton teased the Hunter's outer folds again.
“Y-yes, I a-am enjoying my-myself.”
“Who are you talking to?” Salis asked, rolling her eyes at Samus' dull incomprehension. “I'm thrusting a baton into your pretty cunt, Samus. What sort of person does that to a slave? The answer is – their owner. You, Samus Aran, are owned. Property. So when I ask you a question, I want you to answer. Properly. And in third person.”
Samus gaped at the woman who was torturing her, swallowing pride and dignity under the wave of trembling threat.
The baton was brushing her inner thighs, prodding her open, sometimes entering her and sometimes not. A tease. Samus moaned and struggled, closing her eyes, opening them again when the baton entered her.
She did not want to suffer that affection again.
“Y-yes, S-samus is enjoying h-having h-her owner p-play with h-her.”
“Good girl,” Salis teased. “Good slave.”
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Pride and Politics