Pride and Politics

Samus was left in the dachora dressage overnight.

She shuffled, uncomfortable, the bulbs in her ass quivering with her every shaking step. She barely slept, her collar keeping her upright, and it was a bleary-eyed bird that greeted the morning light when the door to her pen opened.

Alista entered, dressed in thin gossamers that only highlighted how little she wore, the shape she was in. A sliver of sympathy slithered in what was left of Samus' soul, a recognition of what they were both suffering. Her wary eyes trailed after Alista as the former royal set the bucket down and knelt, removed a sponge, began washing Samus' long legs, her chest, her back.

She was close enough that Samus could feel her breath on bare skin, gooseflesh raised from chill and moisture. 

So lost in this brief kindness was she that Samus almost missed it when the other slave tried to catch her eyes before she spilled some water. The former Hunter heard an electric buzz.

“We have thirty seconds,” Alista whispered, pushing a small bud into Samus' ear, sliding it under the dressage. “I've got access to the cameras. I'll let you know when I shut them off. Are you with me?”

Samus nodded.

Alista dropped her eyes, careful as the sponge touched Samus' neck and provided cool relief from the planet's murky heat. A couple of nebari guards came in and pushed Alista to the ground, one standing on her neck while the other checked the wires Alista had soaked.

“Just a nick in the cabling,” the nebari said, drying it, fixing it. “That'll hold for now. We'll get someone to fix it during the hunt.”

The other nebari removed his foot from Alista's neck, pulled her up by her collar and shoved her against the wall, tweaking her nipple.

“You should be more careful, slave,” he seethed. Samus saw her flinch, friends, saw Alista tremble as the nebari spun her around and pressed her against the stable wall, but then Samus felt a weight pulled inside her ass and she tried to scream, the thing in her mouth turning her agonized cries into pretty birdsong.

“What a lovely song,” the other guard grinned, using her tail to pull himself to his feet. He slapped her ass, turned to look at her. “Pretty bird, let's see what... oh, you're not going to believe this.”

“What?” asked the guard that has pulled down Alista's pants.

“It's 'Samus Aran.'”

“The Hunter?”

“No, that slave with the Hunter's name,” the one stroking Samus' face grinned, licking the sweat from her cheeks. “Sweeter than she tasted on Ariime.”

The one by Alista abandoned her, grinning as he came closer, possessive fingers pulling at Samus' hips.

“We get to fuck her again?”

“Masters, this slave must tell you that slave is entered in the hunt, masters,” whispered Alista, not moving from where she was, her ass shaking enticingly back and forth.

“Well, Olsar did tell us to enter the hunt,” one of the guards said. “Are we registered?”

“The elfin took care of it,” the other answered. “I checked the paperwork. All five of us.”

One of them slapped Samus' cheek, held her face and forced her to look at him.

“You ready for round two, bitch?” 

"We fucked her more than twice." 

"I'm doing a bit." 

"You're wasting your time. I doubt the bitch can string two thoughts together that aren't about sucking cock." 

He slapped her face again while the other nebari rocked her tail, sending waves of weight through her hips, making them shake. A final spank caused her ass to shudder and she to cry out before they both turned their attention back to Alista.

“You ever fucked a princess before?”

“Nah, but I've had my eye on her royal whoreness for a while.”

“Masters,” whispered Alista, hugging her ass against her attacker's cock. The nebari behind her gasped with pleasure. “This slave is to be given only as a reward by her true master.”

“The way your ass us hugging my cock, slave, I'd say you want this as much as I do,” the nebari growled. He positioned his length so that it was between her legs, the tip tracing a hard line against her glistening thighs.

“Masters, what this slave wants does not matter, masters,” whispered Alista, spreading her legs further. “Only her true master's desires matter, master.”

“Braca is a lucky man.”

“We could kill him.”

“This isn't Ariime and I don't want to go back there,” the other said, pulling his friend off the princess. “Do your duty, wait til Braca's drunk, then get him to give her to you and fuck the whore.”

“Fine,” the would-be rapist grumbled, slapping Alista's upturned ass. “Soon, bitch.”

“Don't feel bad,” the other said, wrapping an arm around his comrade, “We can still hunt down Samus Aran and fuck her empty little head and her tight little cunt until there's nothing left in us.”

“Just so long as I get her ass before the mauk does.” 

The two of them left.

Trembling, Alista's shaking fingers found her pants and pulled them up her thighs, over her ass so that they rested on her hips. Samus watched as she calmed her breath, the two women meeting one another's gaze and thinking the same thing, an echo of the final taunt the princess had suffered.

Soon, bitch. 

*
More coming this week.

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