Story: Britannian Breeding

 

 Lelouch returned to the student council meeting room with Shirley and Kallen walking side by side with him, full of dignity and poise. Of course, the rumours had been started regardless of his care not to show his new girlfriends undue attention - it was quite apparent that the student body had been quite eager to discuss who he would hook up with for some time.

From what he could gleam, both Kallen and Shirley were in the runnings for that position, and had been for some time. Furthermore, if his burning ears were picking up what it seemed, a few people were even betting on both of them at once.

Well, no matter. What is done, is done. For the time being the logical thing to do is to go about his everyday life. Introduce Kallen to Nunnally. Tell her that he is now dating Shirley. And Kallen. She would probably understand that this was an open relationship, or so he hoped. She was so innocent that it might seem strange to her. He hoped it didn't upset or confuse her, or make her think less of him for dating two girls at the same time!

Still! Focus on the advantages this relationship gives you. One cannot change the past, and therefore the best thing for him to do would be taking full advantage of the opportunities granted to him. As such, he took a deep breath, gripped the handle of the student council meeting room firmly, threw open the door -

And immediately had confetti hit him in the face. There was a loud whooping sound coming from, it turned out, Milly and Rivalz, while Nina was standing meekly behind them waving around a party rattle. Overhead was a banner that read "Lelou+Shirley" right next to an image of a cutesy, simplified version of the pair of them sitting in a boat alongside the words 'this ship has set sail'.

"Congratulations!" Milly applauded. "Oh, it brings a tear to my eye knowing all my hard work has finally paid off."

"Milly!" Shirley growled. "What is all this? What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing!" Milly answered, all coy and innocent. As if she had an innocent bone in her body. "I'm just ensuring the physiological and psychological..."

She trailed off upon making eye contact with Kallen. From there, Milly looked her up and down like a food critic sizing up the meal placed in front of them. No, actually, that metaphor doesn't quite work. Her gaze was far more discerning than any food critic could hope to be.

"Kallen Stadtfeld, if I'm not mistaken?" Milly said. "My, my. You have been busy, haven't you Lelou?"

"Ah, you mean finding Kallen?" Lelouch immediately said, quick on the take as ever. "Yes, as it happens your grandfather - the principal - did mention something about recruiting her for the council, didn't he?"

"He did?" Kallen asked.

Milly quirked an eyebrow at that. "He did, but he only told me about that this morning," Milly said. "I'm surprised you heard about it already given how busy you were getting." She looked over at both Kallen and Shirley upon saying that. Making the two of them blush from her attention. "So, why don't you come with me and I'll fill you in on the details. You too, Shirley and Nina. Time for some girl talk."

"Uh..." Kallen began, about to protest - before finding herself irresistibly hauled off by Milly, all four girls heading to the side room so they could get her all caught up in the affairs of the student council. Although... Lelouch had to admit, as annoyed as he was with his genes pushing him towards lustful outcomes, watching those four girls leave was quite asy on the eyes. Those tiny Ashford skirts really did invite staring, didn't they?

The door closed, and then Rivalz immediately said "You lucky swine." Then elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "I mean, I knew you would hook up with Shirley sooner or later, but Kallen Stadtfeld? Way to aim for the freaking nobility!"

"Now Rivalz, Kallen is more than her title." In all honesty, Kallen was probably a very small step down for someone from his family. At least if you were only looking at her in terms of title and prestige. In terms of looks, personality and capability she was most definitely on par. As was Shirley, for that matter. "We have work to get on with. May we please focus on that?"

"Sure, sure," Rivalz said. The two sat down. Thirty seconds passed as they looked over the various club budgets. Then, Rivalz said "So, how was that threesome?"

"Rivalz Cardemonde, a gentleman, does not tell how much he deeply drilled those two eager pussies until they begged for the chance to cum."

Ah... He hadn't quite meant to brag about that. Nonetheless, it had slipped out. With a weary sigh, Lelouch rubbed his temples and set down his pen, as something had been bothering him for a while now.

"Are you and Milly...?" he began.

"I'm her trained little sex pet," Rivalz said without missing a beat. "Knowing her, she's probably going to wind up teaching Shirley and Kallen all her tricks, so you'd better watch out."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Lelouch said. Right. Well, at least this would be the end of things for now. "Hopefully the other girls back off a bit to give me some breathing room."

"You know, I kind of thought they would if it was just Shirley, but..." Rivalz mused. "If you're having an open relationship like that, other girls might think they can worm their way in too."

"Preposterous," Lelouch scoffed. "Can you think of anyone in this school who has the appeal of those two? At the very least they serve as a good gate to keep them out."

"Yeah, the only babe at that level is Milly, and she's too into shipping you with Shirley to interfere," Rivalz nodded along. "Ah, I guess you're right. Since nobody could measure up to the two of them, you've got nothing to worry about."

There was a knock at the door. Someone come to discuss something? Very well. Lelouch went up to answer it, always happy to assist the student body with their queries. "We're the student council, how can we - " he began... but quickly trailed off. For there was a girl standing there. A strange girl. One he'd never met before. With bright green hair that cascaded down her back. She was, of course, wearing the uniform of Ashford academy, but he didn't remember seeing a student like her. Her beauty was quite astounding.

No, astounding was a lazy way to describe it. She was... ethereal. As if the mere act of seeing her had made him step into another world entirely.

"Greetings," the beautiful woman said. She curtseyed. "I am C.C. Pleased to meet you. And... apparently you are pleased to meet me as well."

Lelouch didn't need to follow her gaze to know exactly what she was looking at. Damn! It seemed as though his harem might wind up growing in size after all...

<hr>

Let's get one thing clear right now. Torture does not work. That should be emphasised clearly for those in the back: <b>Torture does not work.</b> Not if your goal is extracting information. Under torture, someone will tell you whatever they want to hear in order to make it stop. If that's 'I am guilty' they will say it. If it's a name, they'll make one up. If they don't know what you want to know, they'll make it up. That is the nature of it, a tool of evil used only for self gratification and to fulfill some righteous urge to punish the supposedly wicked - which is where the majority of the world's wickedness tends to come from in the first place.

Oh, I'm sorry did that bring the mood down? Alright. Then a lighter topic perhaps. For example: How fucking hot is Cornelia li Britannia? Let's ignore the war crimes and atrocities she's surely committed over the course of her life and just look at her objectively. Damn, but she's pretty. Almost as pretty as she is deadly.

Right at this moment she was walking in front of a cell with a captured rebellious Number in it. He was in a straightjacket, much like most of Britannia's prisoners. Strapped to a chair in a room that was, to her opinion, too good for him. He should know his place, and other such thoughts passed by her mind. Right now the two of them were alone.

"You won't get me to talk," the prisoner spat. He actually did literally spit. Hit the reinforced glass partition between them. "No matter what you subject me to, I'll never spill my guts, Witch of Britannia!"

Witch of Britannia. Yes, she was the Empire's Goddess of Victory, wasn't she? Even advanced technology didn't matter much when the enemy had superior numbers and a home field advantage. Yet, even in situations where she should have lost Cornelia had turned things around. Won a big victory for the Empire when others would have taken far worse casualties. It was down to her keen military mind. She wasn't the best tactician they had, but she knew how to rally her subordinates. Organise them. Keep them motivated.Such things worked wonders on the battlefield, as it allowed you to deploy whatever strategy you were going for all that much more effectively.

Technically the two of them were alone right now. She'd had the security camera for this section turned off. Without saying a word, Cornelia slipped off her gloves, then put her hands behind her head and squat down with her legs spread wide open, maintaining steady eye contact with the confused prisoner.

Then she lowered her arms a bit, grabbed the zip at the back of her uniform and slowly stood back up while keeping her hands in exactly the same position they had been in. harder to do that than you might think, by the way. The net result was that she pulled the zipper down a fraction, then she flexed her back muscles, causing it to pull itself down the rest of the way.

"Uh, what's going on here...?" the prisoner asked. Cornelia ignored him, and then began to dance while letting her uniform fall off her body. It was a slow dance, methodical and clinical, more designed to remove her own clothing quickly and indirectly, efficiently and yet without using her hands. "What the hell is...?"

Cornelia didn't interrupt him. She didn't bother heeding his words. She didn't even take note of his slack jaw and continued with what she was doing, letting her uniform slide down her body while she flung the back of her hair up with both hands, right at the moment what she was wearing beneath was revealed.

That being, a slingshot bikini, dark pink like her hair. The fabric stretched over her breasts, covering little more than the nipples before shooting down towards her crotch, then up her back to loop around her neck. Ah, but her trousers were still on. Easily fixed by turning around, bending at the waist and peeling them off inch by inch, shuffling her weight from foot to foot as she did so until they were all the way off and she could resume her cold, clinical, erotic dance unabated.

"What is happening here, is this some kind of joke?" the prisoner asked in total, baffled disbelief. "Is... Is Cornelia li Britannia giving me an erotic show? Huh! Who could have guessed? The Goddess of Victory? More like Slut of Victory!"

Cornelia stopped midstep, cocked her head. Then gathered her clothes, put them back on and walked right on out.

"What's the matter, Britannian whore princess? Can't take being called what you -"

The door closed. Cornelia hadn't said a word the entire time. Instead, she walked to the next room over, where a prisoner captured last week was waiting. Also in a straightjacket. Bound to a chair, seperated from her by reinforced glass.

The instant she stepped into the room, the prisoner stumbled off the chair as far as he could go, tongue hanging out and an erection quite obvious in his straightjacket. "Please!" he begged. "Please, for the love of God, don't dance for me again! I -  Ican't take it any more! This straightjacket keeps me from jerking off-  But I..."

"But you also want to see me dance, don't you?" Cornelia asked. She squatted down, just like before, and the prisoner panted like a dog. "It's all you can think about. You'd walk over broken glass barefoot to see my bikini again, wouldn't you?"

The thoroughly blue balled man grunts desperately, thoroughly broken by his own arousal. And so, Cornelia stands up and walks out of the room, leaving him a sobbing erect mess.

"You called me a whore a week ago," Cornelia said as she left. "Well, right now you'd probably give everything you had for ten seconds with a whore. Even sell out your own colleagues. A shame I couldn't trust your information, don't you think?"

You see, Cornelia knows as well. Torture is a useless means of deriving information from your prisoner. Anyone that advocates otherwise is trying to mask their own cruelty - or has been deceived by someone else wearing the same mask. On the other hand... if you're a cruel, cruel woman like Cornelia, then this kind of torture fullfilled its purpose just fine.

Namely, it got her in the mood to ride Sir Guilford, her chosen breeding partner. Unwarranted cruelty to Britannia's enemies? Sexually teasing them until they were sobbing whimpering wrecks? Yes, that's just the sort of thing that got her motor running. Because... Cornelia was a monster, through and through.