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Does Seviper matter or what
Outside, Aldith watched with rapt, ecstatic attention. She saw Cynthia’s bare feet kick in a frantic, staccato rhythm, a beautiful dance of terminal panic. She saw the champion’s torso, still tightly bound in the coils, begin to vanish into the widening maw. The Seviper’s neck distended obscenely, outlining the shape of Cynthia’s head and shoulders as they traveled down.
“Look at her go!” Aldith moaned, her own hand drifting unconsciously to the front of her uniform pants, applying a slow, grinding pressure. “That’s it… take her… make her yours…”
Inside the swallowing darkness, Cynthia’s world was reduced to a series of horrific, intimate sensations. The second swallow came, a stronger, more insistent contraction that dragged her deeper. Her chest was now inside the maw, her breasts flattened against the roof of the serpent’s mouth. The heat was becoming wetter, slicker with digestive secretions. She felt a warm drip of pre-gastric fluid seep through her blouse, branding her skin.
She tried to brace her hands, but they were still pinned. All she could do was feel as her body was consumed inch by torturously slow inch. The third swallow took her past her ribs. The compression was incredible, a full-body hug from hell that squeezed the air from her lungs in a trapped, bubbling sob. The acidic smell grew stronger, burning her nostrils.
Aldith’s voice pierced the muffled horror, crystal clear and dripping with mockery. “Do you feel that, Champion? That’s true power. The power of nature, red in tooth and claw… and throat. You spent your life studying myths, but you never understood the basic truth: everything is food for something else.”
Another swallow. Cynthia’s hips were at the threshold. The Seviper’s jaws stretched wider, muscles straining, to accommodate the swell of her pelvis. The sensation of being pasted with hot saliva over her jeans, over the curve of her rear, was unspeakably violating.
