She's... She's not being hurt anymore. She looks, and feels, and realizes. The blades are gone. The tendril crushing her breast is gone. Eve's stopped --

Something awakens in her the instant the realization coheres, strong and overpowering. Desperate, pathetic hope: and the tatters of her dignity are nothing before it.

"Is it over?" she whimpers, and her voice cracks. "Are you done? Are..."

Eve smiles.

She doesn't answer.

She opens her mouth and her tongue emerges once more, black and sinuous, the slender spikes all over it visible just beneath the surface.

"No!" Teresa whimpers. "Please, no more. I can't take it. I..."

What can she do? How can she stop it?

"This was a mistake! Eve, I -- if there's anything left of you in there, please. I-I didn't mean to agree to this. You have to stop."

She's sobbing again.

Strong tentacles wrap tightly around Teresa's bare thighs, and pull them firmly apart.

And panic rises in Teresa's throat. "Not there. Not there! You can't! I'll -- I'll -- "

But she doesn't have anything to offer the sxelanth.

Oh, she's so cute.

The tip of Eve's tongue dips and moves down toward Teresa's lower parts, leaving a trail of glistening saliva down her belly.

She can't endure what's coming. She can't. It's impossible. She -- she only has seconds. Surely there must be something she can do. Anything. Some magic words that will forestall the horrible, horrible pain --

"Do it to Lynia!"

Eve stops in place, and stares at her.

"Hurt Lynia instead. Go home and -- and torture her, rape her, kill her, whatever you want. You can do anything to her! I don't care! Just -- "

The tears are fast and hot. Her voice drops from a panicked shriek to a soft, frantic plea.

"Just don't hurt me anymore. Please..."

Well, a part of her thinks, off in the distant sky somewhere. There they are. The words she can't say, not ever. They're out in the air now.

There's an agonizing dread beneath the panic. Eve's going to relent now, and go and torture Lynia, and --

Well now.

Eve didn't know this was even possible. For Teresa to betray Lynia...

It's not enough to make Eve stop loving her, of course. No one can last forever, she supposes.

Besides. She made a promise.

"Don't worry," she says, and the voice from her many mouths is gentle. A tendril strokes Teresa's pale golden hair. "Don't worry. Remember? I told you that I'd hurt you however I wanted. No matter how you pled."

Oh.

Animal terror grips her heart, cold and strong and overpowering.

But there is absolutely nothing she can do.

The tip of Eve's tongue lowers further, until it meets the lips of Teresa's fragile vulva. She savors a breath, and pushes her way inside.

She hasn't stopped caring for Teresa at all. No: the more she thinks of it, the more she loves the way she begged so pathetically. How she offered up her most precious love just to make it stop. The pain has pushed Teresa's heart to the breaking point and beyond, and now the glittering shards are Eve's to torture.

And if those few light touches upon her skin were enough to break her, how much sweeter will it feel to hurt her insides?

Teresa remains very, very still.

The fear helps with that, a little. Now that she knows there's no resisting. As if her body thinks that if she just hides well enough, the monster will leave her be...

The feeling of Eve's alien tongue penetrating her is intense and strange. Nothing's -- nothing's ever been inside her before, because of course it wouldn't do for a pilot to be sullied, so she lies there and presses her lips together and twitches faintly and trembles in fear as nerves that have never been used tell her of the progress Eve's thick, soft, muscular tongue is making.

Eve savors the new feeling of Teresa's slick cunt around her tongue. She tastes like fear.

She lets out a few feet more of her endless tarry tongue to give herself slack, and brings her face up close to Teresa's, locking eyes with her.

She does nothing. Just waits.

Teresa is trembling, just the tiniest of quakes down the length of her body. The fear builds and builds. She knows it's coming. She knows.

Eve makes no movement of the spikes that line her tongue, but she takes her many, many tentacles and wraps them securely around every inch of Teresa's body. The blades of her suckers come to rest against Teresa's skin.

Her breathing stops. If she moves an inch, if -- if those needles pierce her insides and she flinches from the pain --

She wants to beg for mercy. But what good will that do?

Still, Eve holds herself motionless.