"Don't—don't come near me! Stay away!"
The woman screamed, pressing her back against the prison wall.
She was a newcomer—a girl with short, brown hair.
She seemed lively, but her eyes drooped slightly, creating an appealing contrast.
Female soldiers, once they've gained some experience, tend to experiment with their hairstyles. Her simple, fresh look suggested she was still a rookie.
She wore a combat uniform. The women brought to me are initially thrown into the cell wearing whatever they were captured in. After the first time, they're brought in naked. Stripping them myself during the first encounter seems to be some kind of ritual.
By the way, this girl isn't wearing a gag. Another oversight by the aliens.
Freshly captured prisoners, depending on the person, sometimes try to bite their tongues and die when they see me. To prevent such futile acts, it's customary to gag the women before throwing them in for their first encounter with the Butcher.
But the aliens are careless. Occasionally, they bring in women without gags, like this one. As a professional, I find this kind of sloppiness truly infuriating.
Experienced soldiers all know this: biting your tongue doesn't work. It's excruciatingly painful and puts a strain on your body, but it won't kill you. Even if you manage to bite the base of your tongue—which is incredibly difficult—the aliens have healing magic. You can't commit suicide by biting your tongue.
So, I don't want these girls to do something so pointless and harmful. There's no way they can feel genuine pleasure amidst such pain.
"Why… why is this happening…?"
The girl with short hair angrily raked her fingers through her hair, clearly frustrated.
She's full of energy.
But her military experience seems limited. It's usually hot-headed, inexperienced girls like her who try to bite their tongues. I call them "Tongue-Cutters." It's dangerous.
I slowly closed the distance, careful not to startle her.
It's like trying to capture an injured stray cat. I want to say, "It's okay, don't be scared, come here."
In reality, it's the Butcher closing in. Yeah, it's probably terrifying.
"Stay away! If you come any closer, I'll bite my tongue and die!"
There it is…
I could let her try once, heal her with magic, and show her it's pointless, but I'm a model Butcher. Apart from the observer behind the mirror, there's no one nearby with healing magic.
So, she'd suffer for a long time, and I want to violate her quickly. It's a loss for both of us.
No choice, I'll have to push through…
I took a large step forward.
The girl with short hair widened her eyes and opened her mouth in shock.
"Stop—!"
At that moment, I thrust my dark, grotesque tongue into her mouth with a sharp *snap*. It settled in with a satisfying *pop*.
My tongue is an unnatural, sickly color—like a corpse or a deep bruise. And it stretches incredibly far.
"Ngh—~~~~~!"
The girl desperately tried to grab and pull out my tongue.
Surprisingly, she didn't bite down hard. She's holding back.
Good choice. My tongue is my weak spot.
My skin, flesh, and bones are incredibly tough, but my tongue is relatively vulnerable. I think it's because of its elasticity. Even human jaws can hurt me if they bite down. They can't sever it, but it's enough to make me think, "Ouch, that hurts."
But tormenting my tongue isn't a good idea. When I'm in pain or damaged, I gradually lose control of the Butcher's ferocity.
That's why, while the girl resists, I rarely thrust my tongue in. I might accidentally kill her.
When I use my tongue to stop her from biting hers, I have to work hard to suppress my impulses and keep the Butcher's body from going berserk.
I was prepared this time, but she seems fine. She's well-behaved. Good girl.
I quickly closed the distance and grabbed her hand.
The girl with short hair shuddered.
I pressed her against the wall and gently hooked my claw into the collar of her combat uniform.
"Ngh… ugh!"
As I slowly moved my claw downward, the supposedly sturdy uniform tore like paper.
I'm doing this to show her the danger of my claws. If she struggles while I'm holding her down, my claws could rip her skin.
I don't want her to resist. Resistance puts her life at direct risk. I want to teach her that as quickly as possible.
Beneath the uniform was healthy, tanned skin. Her breasts were moderately full, with little excess fat, and her body was incredibly vibrant.
"Ngh~~~~~! Ngh—"
My claw caught on her pants. The girl struggled fiercely, but the supposedly sturdy leather belt snapped easily. She gasped, realizing the danger of moving.
She seems to understand now. Moving is risky.
"…"
Her uniform split vertically.
Her bust was well-tanned, but her bikini tan lines were visible near her hips. A topless bikini wearer, I guess. Her body was damp with sweat, wonderfully alive. I want to quickly coat her in my fluids, then hold her tightly and violate her.
Carefully avoiding my claws, I placed my palm gently on her chest.
"Ngh…"
I slowly crushed and kneaded the mass of fat.
She trembled slightly but remained still. Her teeth clenched slightly on my tongue.
This isn't foreplay.
I'm communicating that I don't intend to hurt her.
The girl's face was pale with fear, her expression tense. Her gaze was fixed on my face. With my tongue in her mouth, she's forced to look at my horrific face. Maybe she's too scared to move properly.
Most of her resistance is gone now. It should be safe.
I slowly pulled out my dark tongue.
My tongue tip drew a thread of clear saliva. Then—
"~~~~~!"
Ah, she bit her tongue.
I quickly jammed my knuckle into her mouth to stop her.
Good. She couldn't bear the pain and didn't bite through.
Biting your tongue seems easy in stories, but it's actually quite difficult. You have to override your body's natural reflexes with sheer willpower.
And you can't practice it. If you did, you'd lose your tongue.
It requires a hardened, unyielding mental strength—like a sniper waiting alone in enemy territory for days.
A panicked rookie like you, facing the Butcher, can't do it.
In the end, there was just a faint trickle of blood.
"Waaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! Oooooooohhhhhh!"
The girl with short hair began flailing wildly, as if insane.
She's biting my fingers, which I've hastily turned into a gag. She's in a full-blown panic. It's too dangerous to put my tongue in now.
Ugh, this is annoying…
I could crush her and impale her with my Butcher Lance, but that's just painful. I want her to accept it willingly, to some extent. What should I do?
As I thought this, a loud *CLANG!* echoed through the prison.
Looking over, I saw a new offering had arrived in the neighboring cell.
A corridor runs along the side of my cell, and across from it is another Butcher's cell. The structure is symmetrical, with the corridor in between.
And in that cell is another Butcher.
I call him "Sergeant Demon" in my mind—my neighbor.
The timing is perfect. I'll let Sergeant Demon give this overly lively rookie a proper education.
I carried her struggling body to the corridor, pressing her against the bars.
Keeping my finger in her mouth to prevent her from biting her tongue, I used my other hand to push her head through the bars, holding it in place. She could see the other cell clearly.
"Whaaaaaaaaat?!"
She gripped the bars with both hands, tears streaming down her face as she screamed. I held her from behind, eagerly waiting for the lesson to begin.
—Look, it's starting.
Once this lesson is over, she'll welcome me quietly.
No doubt about it. That teacher is incredible.