Author's Note:
Just to be clear- I did not write the original and am not implying anything of the sort.  I just suck at titles and figured I may as well appropriate the name from a classic.

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	Since Esvae had been unconscious her war mask had slowly eroded away.  In addition to the faded blood, smudged and evaporated warpaint, the mask itself was but a shell.  No longer did smoldering rage filter out her thoughts, her fears, and observations.  Where before she had felt a cool purpose, now instead there was only a creeping sensation of fear.  Of helplessness.
	The situation certainly didn't help.  All around the Eldar was a rather plain room, the walls and surfaces made up of plasteel.  Many crude light-bars were arrayed upon the ceiling, giving the place just barely enough illumination to see.  There was only one door into this room- one that was very heavily set, fortified, and had some form of input-panel off to one side.
	Esvae was slumped against the rear wall.  Most important of all she was bound.  Thick, heavy shackles had been set about her wrists and ankles, the connecting chains leading through some form of gears in the floors and walls.  At the very least she still bore her armor, the form-fitting yellow wraithbone.  That and the lump upon the side of her head.  Had Esvae not been bound, no doubt she'd have been poking and prodding at it to try to ease away the pain.  Before that battle she'd never have thought a Mon'keigh gun barrel could do so much damage.
	The blow.  She'd been struck by the grip of a crude weapon and nearly knocked senseless.  It begun to slowly add up.  From there she'd have been a sitting duck on the battlefield.  What did not add up was the fact that she remained alive and was captured.  Normally Mon'keigh would never capture anything not of their own kind.  Under any circumstance.  And yet for whatever reason they had.  Esvae would have preferred death to this embarrassment.  That and... she did not know what they wanted with her.
	Esvae was young for an Eldar.  It was not remiss to say that she'd been spared of many horrors out there in the galaxy.  Not too long ago that she had been treading the path of the Dreamer.  After her long career in service to others she had decided that the path of the Artist would suite her well.  Rotations passed almost without notice as Esvae learned to look within her own mind and find details about her inner self, before then looking at the outside world and art.
	This training only led to her changing paths once again.  It had been a day like any other, where chance brought her to visit an aspect warrior friend, a follower of the war god of Kaela Mensha Khaine.  This day she witnessed the graceful, beautiful dance of the practicing Howling Banshee up close, and with her new found training saw intricacies and the deadly grace of that fighting style.  Nearly at once she decided this would be her new trade.
	Training had done the young Eldar good.   Esvae was always rather small for an Eldar- straight limbed and well proportioned, but plain short.  Fighting had strengthened and toned her body, taught her how to be a threat to any living creature.  Unlike many of her peers,  she had kept her raven-colored hair a medium length, cut into a wild ponytail and bangs.  For all purposes she was attractive, even to fellow Eldar.
	Esvae attempted to swallow and clear her throat, but instead felt a hoarse scratchy sensation.
That's right.  She had yelled and screamed at the Mon'keigh, hurled threats, raged uselessly beneath her former war-mask.  That had lasted quite some time.  Blackness had again crept upon her some time after, and now there was just... whatever this was.
	The Eldar's head lowered on down, her limbs slackening the chains.  A slight rustling noise echoed through the room.  She was expecting no more noise, so she jumped at the sudden sound of a Mon'keigh speaking.
	“And you awake,” rumbled a pleasant voice.
	Another pang of sheer hatred, of anger and embarrassment, flashed through the young Eldar's gut.  A sneer touched her lips as she cast her gaze around, looking for the source.  Hair bobbed and flew.
	She didn't search long.  A switch of some-sort was flipped and then extra lights hummed into activity, each in turn.  The room was now sufficiently bright for her to make out the oncoming human.
	This new Mon'keigh was an important figure, she knew at once.  He was rather tall for his race, his skin free from blemish or mark, and bore a very short buzz-cut.  This Mon'keigh was anywhere between thirty and forty years of age.  The thick and heavy coat, absurdly large pauldrons, decent-make, all this told her of his rank.  She put on a rather impressive scowl as he approached, stopping a few meters away.
	“Easy, my name is  Liebrecht, Inquisitor of Order Xenos.  Do you know what an Inquisitor is?”
	She did not respond, her look becoming quite heated, nearly murderous.  Rather then any indignation the man let out a soft chuckle.
	“Of course you don't.  Well, xeno, I am one of the wardens, or police, of the Imperium.  We safeguard man from threats they best not know of, such as xenos.  Like the Eldar.  Do you speak High Gothic?”
	Esvae bared her teeth and somehow scowled even harder.
	“Oh please, I know you do.  The insults you hurled not long ago were rather creative.  Would you say something?” he asked.
	She'd had enough of this.
	“If you are a warden of man, Mon'keigh, you are failing in your duty,” she growled.
	A brief look of displeasure crossed the man's face.
	“Oh?  What makes you say that?”
	“All of your kind's civilization is crumbling, corrupt, and fetid,” the Eldar began.  “You oppress and kill your own people for the littlest slight, keep them ignorant of threats that they might be wary of.  All of you are backwards, savage, hopelessly ignorant, corpse-worshiping primates.”
	 The Eldar was genuinely surprised when the man did not react, simply setting his mouth in a neutral line.  Others would have reacted violently, or at the very least had an equally heated rebuttal.
	“It never ceases to amuse me how much more advanced you hold your race to be,” the Inquisitor responded crossly,” when you are still just vessels of thought, given form by flesh, and mortal.  Divergently evolved to bear a similar shape to that of my own kind.”
	She kept up her growl.  It hurt after all her earlier shouting, but there was no other response as fitting as that.
	“Which reminds me,”  Liebrecht said pleasantly, almost conversationally. “It cost me an arm and a leg to get a hold of you.  Nearly literally.  You might be surprised of the favors I had to call in.”
	“Release me, Mon'keigh,” Esvae growled, her voice losing much of the former venom.  “You do not understand what you are dealing with.  My brothers and sisters will come for me.”
	“I'm afraid not.  All of you are presumed dead- I saw to it that any traces of your companions were removed from Rhalinwen.  Short of any xeno-magic, there is nothing left from which to find you.  Not to mention we shall shortly be jumping from the system.”
	The Eldar's mouth gaped on open, terrified.
	“Release me!”
	“I think not.”
	Boots clomped against the hard floor as Liebrecht moved on over near her side.  Almost at once Esvae reacted violently, hissing, shaking and pulling at her chains.  For a brief moment the Inquisitor actually halted and raised a brow at her, before moving on over to her right.  Where before there had been shadows, Esvae could now make out some form of large control panel, just in the corner of her eyes.  The machine appeared to be studded with buttons and levers.  Liebrecht began working with this device, hitting a button here and there.
	Nearly at once there was a mechanical twisting sound, clanking, and the chains binding the Eldar moved.  Her arms were both lifted upward into the air, and those at her ankles slid forward.  Despite her best attempts at struggling she was pulled into a standing position further in the center of the room.  A second or two passed before they lurched into motion once more, pulling her arms almost painfully high above her.  And then there was the sound of footsteps as Liebrecht stalked back over to her.
	The moment she saw motion in the corner of her eye, Esvae twisted her head and spat at him.  From the awkward position she missed, only to be answered by another soft chuckle.    Liebrecht now stood to her side within arm's reach.
	Most Eldar were inhumanly tall and fair, wispy and too uncanny to be mistaken as human.  Though she shared many of these qualities, Esvae was still a hair over a six and a half feet- half a head shorter then her kin.  With the heavy-set boots Liebrecht stood nearly as tall.
	“I always wished-,”  Liebrecht began, interrupted by dodging a flash of hair,” -to have an Eldar guest.  Forgive me if I lose myself; I've yet to be this close to one of your kind.”
	A very light sensation was felt upon her arm.  Even through the wraithbone construct Esvae could feel the sensation of a single finger tracing itself along her upper arm.  She twisted in response and looked at the man behind her shoulder.
	“Remove your filthy hands from me!”
	He ignored her.
	“Heh.  Wraithbone I see... this won't do.”
	Air shifted and the Eldar could just barely make out the sound of  Liebrecht relinquishing something from his coat.  And then over her shoulder she saw a flash of metal.  This blade began to pry at the crease of her wraithbone armor, along the upper arm.  Crystal began to crack and shift.  Though resistant to lasers and firearms, plasma, the carapace could not hold up against delicate, forced attempts to remove it.
	“No!  Mon'keigh, cease this at once!  Stop!” she roared and screamed.
	It was a hell of a ruckus.  After only a brief moment the Inquisitor stalked off heavily, disappointed.  Esvae still didn't stop.  She continued her screaming and yelling, up until he returned, and arms reached on over her head.  Swiftly a plastic receptacle was yanked back against her mouth.  From behind her Liebrecht had all the leverage he needed to pull the gag into position and tighten it.  A tired sigh escaped the humans mouth.  Esvae continued her muffled protests for a moment longer, before giving up and letting her aching voice rest.
	 Liebrecht continued where he had left off.  A few forceful jerks and stabs, pries, and the entirety of the armor on her bicep crunched on free.  Beneath lay a thin, silken shirt, the sleeves only just reaching beneath her shoulder.  For a brief moment there was silence, and then the Inquistior reached down with two fingers, running the fabric between them.  Gingerly he ran a hound down her bared skin.  It felt smooth and warm to his touch, absolutely devoid of hair.
	“You should be thankful, Eldar, that I saved your live,”  Liebrecht growled, his voice losing any of the previous warmth.  “If not for I, you would be dead and buried.  You would have been killed if I didn't bust my ass getting a hold of you.”
	Without warning both of the mans hands lowered and wrapped over the Eldar's rear, where there was no armor, scrunching her toned muscles hard.  A lance of pain flashed up her waist, stinging even after he had stopped.  From nearly behind her head Liebrecht spoke lowly.
	“Listen, xeno.  I know of your soulstone.  Unless you wish to have it taken from you, and to then be executed, you will cease any resistance.  I do not believe you would be well served with your soul let loose to the warp.”
	More then anything the man's last statement terrified her and struck Esvae's psyche hard.  Her eyes jerked on open wide, body freezing.  To do that would be do damn her to perverse, twisted anguish for the rest of eternity.
	“I didn't think so,” he affirmed.
	Again the hands scrunched and gripped at her cheeks, lightly pulling and spreading them.  It was nearly a relief when he stopped to further pry away at her armor.
	The man seemed to be enjoying himself.  Ten, twenty seconds passed, the occasional piece of wraithbone being broken off.  Almost like a puzzle the Inquisitor went along, occasionally furrowing his brows when a particularly tricky plate presented itself.  Several minutes passed before the entire front curiass cracked and fell, rebounding lightly off the floor.  Hanging about Esvae's neck was a thick, gold colored cord, attached to an amulet that rest upon her collar.  This jewel, a faded white-blue, shinned in the artificial light.  Almost like ice it was surprisingly textured and intricate, and contained a depth that only grew as one continued to gaze into it.
	“Oh,”  Liebrecht murmured.  “Here it is.”
	Fingers lightly traced across the soulstone.  The Eldar's shoulders trembled.
	“I will say this again,” he spoke into her ear.   “Do not anger me.”
	After clearing his throat the man stepped on behind the Eldar.  With his body nearly making contact with her own, he reached around her front.  Esvae could now make out the long dagger that had pried off her armor- black in hue, geometric in shape.  The thick blade bore some jaded dust from the wraithbone.  With one hand  Liebrecht gripped the lower hem of her shirt.  Swiftly with his other he sliced upward with the knife- splitting the fabric from bottom to collar.
	Once the weapon was wiped off and sheathed, the two strong hands gripped onto each side of the fabric.  He pulled back hard, ripping it further, until the tatters were hanging backwards off her shoulders.  The Eldar's breath was ragged and fast, her body lightly trembling.
	Almost at once the man moved on forward and pressed his body against the back of her.  It was all but impossible to ignore the heavy bulge beneath his waist, pressing itself between her cheeks.  Leisurely his hands reached around her sides and snaked on up her abdomen, then ribs, and finally the slope of her breasts.  Both lightly wrapped around the mounds, lightly lifting and separating them both, feeling the firmness of the young Eldar.  Apart from the furious expression, a tiny angry blush began to form along the Eldar's nose.  Especially when she began to feel the warm breath from the Mon'keigh upon the back of her neck.  The strong, hairy fingers began to tweak each of her nipples, pinching and twisting at the tiny nubs.  Esvae shook and twisted her chest at this, pulling free of his very light touch.  A grunt escaped her as well.
	Almost at once the hands reached back on up and again took a hold of her chest, this time more forcefully.  Pain wracked her chest when he pinched and pulled at her nipples once more, harder.
	This wasn't all Liebrecht had in mind seemingly, for all of a sudden his weight removed itself from her back and he stepped on around her side.  The inquisitor's eyes seemed to light up as he took in  her unclothed form, at least from the waist up.  Without any thought he again grabbed her breasts, reveling how each were wondrously firm and round, each a handful.  Lowering his head,  Liebrecht went ahead and took the tip of the right breast in his mouth, sucking and blowing upon the thing, tracing his tongue around the pink colored tip.  Esvae again tried to pull back and away, but was given little freedom from which to do so, bound as she was.  His head went with her, and the Inquisitor looked on up at her, watching her reaction as he very gingerly bit.  Her look solicited an amused sound from Liebracht.  For a moment longer he kept tasting the Eldar, his free hand squeezing and twisting the other.  As teasing as this was he had his own needs.   The inquisitor soon stood back on up, noting the teeth marks and wet ring upon the Eldar's breast.  Giving her a quick flash of a smile, he again stepped on around her chained form.
	“Among my acquaintances, the Banshees are known for being terrors on the battlefield,” Leibracht murmured.  “Nearly without peer in close combat, as it were.  I say this is folly, and that your kind should instead be known, well, for your rears.”
	The Eldar let out a low, unamused sound through her gag.
	“No?”
	Seemingly done with conversation, the Inquisitor resumed working away at the wraithbone- this time removing it from all along the waist and legs.  Only moments after he had started the Inquisitor reached up and slashed off the haggard remains of her shirt.  He discarded it before resuming his work.

	Three, five-minutes later, Liebracht stood up up and appreciated his handiwork.
	Before him stood a young, prime example of a Howling Banshee, hands bound above her head, naked save for a gray pair of shorts.  Ankles similarly locked to the floor.  Bear as she was he couldn't help but appreciate the toned and athletic form of the xeno's body.  Straight limbs, gentle and soft curves, even the sharp and wild ponytail.  The slanted, long-lashed eyes that bore a exotic shape.  Angry, vicious, yellow irises.  Lightly he pulled at the seam of Esvae's shorts with a finger and let it snap back against her lower back.
	“Hmmmm,” the inquisitor murmured.
	For a moment longer the man seemed to regard Esvae, nearly zoning out at the sight before him.  It may have been a minute before he shook his head and stepped back over to the panel.  The Eldar's stomach tensed as he poked at the buttons and toggles once more- now that she knew what they did, she likewise knew that nothing good would come of it.
	The walls rumbled slightly, the chains shifting and dragging along the channels of the room.  With a racketous clanking noise her arms were pulled out to either side, then downward, forcing Esvae to drop down to her knees.  Still the binds pulled to either side, until her shoulders popped lightly.  Almost at once she was forced down to her knees, down into a kneeling position.  It seemed a relief when she wasn't pulled apart, but that itself might have been a blessing.  Instead the Banshee was stuck, helpless, as the Inquisitor stepped back in front of her with glinting eyes.  He gave her a fond look before disappearing off to her left, the boots quieting off into the distance.
	This gave the Eldar a few moments with which to strain against her bonds.  Straining, the chains began to rattle and clank, but did not give.
	Only after Esvae's body tired did she slacken once more, her body trembling with unrelinquished violence.
	
	It was not long before the inquisitor returned.  Some new plastic doodad hung down from his hand, the other idly thumping some sort of brief tune or noise against his thigh.  Her eyes tracked him as he once more circled around her.
	The pressure around her face suddenly slackened, the old mouthpiece falling free.  A small, small line of spittle ran down the Eldar's chin.  Futility she twisted her upper body and neck back towards the inquisitor, trying to look at him.  She couldn't quite manage.
	“I will /kill/ you, mon-”
	He didn't let her finish.
	Suddenly a set of strong, thick fingers buried themselves into her hair and yanked back.  What had been a death-threat was muffled into a pained exhale.  Again she tried to pull her head on free, to avoid what was coming, but the inquisitor had all the leverage he needed.
	A new plastic receptacle was placed into her mouth.  The plastic binds once more wrapped around her cheeks and neck, before being cinched and secured.
	All the while some more forbidding terror was filling Esvae.  It was all but impossible to notice the large bulge of the inquisitor's pants pressing against her back, in addition to the fact that this new mouth-peace was not solid, but rather some form of open ring.  Her small breaths escaped through it.
	“Could be that you will,” Liebrecht agreed, almost pleasantly.  “You have a fair chance of succeeding.”
	Having said his bit, the man stepped over in front of the Eldar and began to peel out of his extra layers of clothing.
	Esvae felt a sudden need to clench her eyes shut and look away.  Though she could not quite place it, her gaze remaining on the Mon-keigh felt wrong on some level.  Still she couldn't look away.  Almost like watching a monkey peel out of it's fur, or a turtle taking off it's shell, Esvae couldn't stop herself from watching the disgusting sub-Eldar take off his extra garments.
	The great-coat came free first, the man's fingers unbuttoning the large disks with practiced, easy movements.  As soon as the thick coat fell free Esvae found herself dumbfounded.
	Inquisitor Liebrecht was built.  More built than any other Mon-keigh she had seen, short of the astartes themselves.  Through his thin undershirt the Eldar could see the massive swell of his pectorals.  What may have been a six-pack was outlined in the lower portion of the shirt.  Still further up his neck was almost one massive triangle of muscle, to say nothing of his arms.  Many other Mon-keigh had seemed to be massive brutes, their features squashed down and dirty, used for their barbaric activities.  Some of her own backwards kind had strong limbs and chests, their physique built up by physical exertion on their lands.  This was not Liebrecht- it was clear that his own form was the result of an intelligent mind wishing to improve the body.  In as spectacular a fashion as possible.
	Something about it seemed off.
	Esvae's train of thought was thoroughly derailed when the inquisitor began to peel off his trousers.  The muscles of his upper body shifted as he rolled them on free, and down, stepping out of each pant-leg.  Now only in boxers and a shirt, the bulge Esvae had felt was all but screaming it's presence at her.
	And then he actually parted the front flap and whipped it out.
	The Eldar blinked in surprise for a moment, trying to lean back against heir binds.
	That... there was no way that was a normal size, for a Mon-keigh.  Esvae silently spoke Isha's name in vain and continued staring.
	Liebrecht seemed amused at her reaction, letting out a snort, and began to approach her.
	After the second or third step Esvae unlocked her eyes and gazed up at the Inquisitor's own.  His seemed to be intently locked on her, his mouth set in a wolfish smile.  Her heart began to pound.
	
	Things happened then, fast.
	One moment Esvae was staring up at the approaching Mon'keigh, mostly in shock, and then the next one of his hands tightened in her hair once more.  His shaft loomed over and plopped against the side of her cheek, hard, making a smacking noise.  It smelt, just barely, something like the musk of animals, and was very warm, quivering with his heartbeat.  A heavy breath escaped from the Mon'keighs mouth.
	Esvae's heart beat painfully, fast, and she trembled more.  There was no resisting the grip he had on the back of her head- she had already tried several times before, and when she resisted and tried to escape the grip would only grow more painful.
	There was nothing she could do as his left hand guided the swollen head of his shaft towards her lips.  Even as Esvae bit down, hard, she began to see the purpose of the mouthpiece.  Made up of elastic plastic, it had been set to not shrink down beyond a certain limit, but could extend as much as needed.  Her teeth would never find his flesh, protected as it was.
	Just the first inch of his shafted entered, pressing her jaw open a good bit.  Already there was the slightly bitter and fleshy taste, in addition to the uncomfortable presence of something large and foreign inside of her mouth.
	Another inch made it in and her jaw began to protest.  Open to the max, if not more, her jaw had already felt sore from being battered and all the screaming.
	Gently the inquisitor eased in and out, a few times, seemingly letting the Eldar adjust to his girth.  He seemed to be immensely enjoying himself, smiling, as his shaft inched in a bit more.  Already Esvae could feel that her air would soon be cut off, especially as the massive rod ran across her tongue and prodded at the back of her mouth.
	Her chest shook with a barely muffled sob as the inquisitor continued, increasing the amount that he was giving her.
	Libretcht's other hand wrapped around her head all the same time, along the other side.  The size of his member was already feeling terrible on her jaw, straining, and as it continued to prod at the back of her mouth.  Esvae began to gag around him.
	This didn't stop him at all.  Lengthening his stride, and increasing the pace, the man began to ease in just a bit more.  It began to grow difficult for the Eldar to breathe, smothered in his taste as she was.
	This continued on for several long moments, Liebrecht lightly pulling her head to and fro, forcing her to pleasure him.  For a moment it seemed as though this would be the worse.
She was mistaken.
	Out of the blue, at the end of a stroke, the inquisitor merely continued pulling at her head.  The hot, silken embrace of her mouth slid on further down, the massive rod poking ever so slightly down her throat.  An sputtering gag escaped her this time but none of the saliva was able to spill forth from the tight gag.
	She glared death up at him, her eyes watery and filled with almost unspeakable fury.
	Like before this only seemed to amuse the inquisitor.  Lightly, almost gently, he pulled on back, before jerking his waist forward.
	It was too much for her, she thought.  The massive rod beat up against the back of her throat, hard, before suddenly slipping down and running down into the tight confine of her throat.  Abruptly it was impossible to breathe and Esvae began to shake with the painful sensation of choking.
	Liebrecht held her there for a few painful long moments, his hands tightly locked into her hair.  Still, he seemed to relent after this, pulling all the way out of her mouth.
	The Eldar began to hack and cough, sucking back down much needed air.  She had been unprepared for the forceful intrusion, of THAT magnitude, and her already sore lungs and throat were feeling it badly.
	It felt way too soon when the fingers in Esvae's hair tightened and began to pull her back towards his rod.
	"No more," she tried to say, the sound mostly unintelligible.
	He gave her no heed.  The inquisitor let out a soft moan as his rod entered her lips once more, driving it's way back towards her throat.  A few gentle pumps got him most of the way back, and then one large thrust buried him back down into the bottom of her throat.
	Esvae made a sputter and glurk of a noise, almost throwing up, and a tear actually ran down one of her cheeks.
	The inquisitor still wasn't done.  He began to pull on free, much like last time, and Esvae was thrilled- seemingly he was giving her more air.  This ended when his thick shaft only exited as much as half the way, halted for a moment, and buried itself back inside.
	She sputtered more, but as before, there was nothing the Eldar could do.  Bound as she was, on her knees, wrists pulled towards the ground, there was no way to wriggle on free or haul his body away.  She was left motionless and immobilized as the Mon'keigh did with her as she wished.
	Liebrecht appeared to be done with taking it easy, or so it seemed.  Esvae had mistaken his previous hard pumps and stuffing her tiny mouth to be sating himself.  She learned that she had been severely mistaken when he shifted forward, his body suddenly against hers, pushing her against her binds.  Esvae's back began to arch as he continued pushing forward, hard, again entering her fully.  For the first time he bottomed completely out- the Eldar's mouth and throat impossibly full, straining, choked on his rod.  Esvae could feel the Mon'keighs large and swollen testicles resting upon her chin, hot and sweaty.
	Then the pumping began in earnest.
	Thrusting in and out at a rapid pace, the Inquisitor began to take no time in fucking her mouth, hard.  Pulling out nearly to the tip, the man would then jerk forward and force it back down to the base.  His balls began to plop against her chin, providing that much more degradement for the haughty Eldar.
	She'd have thrown up were it not for the tight seal.  Fluids began to fill her mouth all the same, slightly spilling on free of her nose.
	The inquisitor took note of this and made a growl, deep in his throat, before pulling back.
As before, her lungs burned something fierce.  Esvae began to almost choke, even empty as her mouth was, her lungs burning with the sudden resurgence of air.
	He gave her several long moments to regain her breath before resuming.
	'How long must I suffer this?' the Eldar thought to herself, baffled.
	She had no answer for a long while, only the continued spasming and choking around his cock.
	For a time her eyes began to roll back in her head, absolutely drenched with tears, and her vision had tunneled.  Countless times he would give her enough air, just barely, before resuming.  He seemed to have it down to a science.

	Something between five minutes and an eternity passed before she was spared.
	Esvae leaned on back, only barely held up by the arch of her spine and the shaft in her mouth.  The inquisitor had begun to let out long, pleasureful moans for a little while, nearing his own limits.  She could feel it as his member throbbed several times in quick succession, seemingly swelling further, and then Liebrecht all but leapt back.
	Esvae's chin dropped down against her chest, woodenly, and hair spilled around her saliva and tear drenched face.  Even covered as her vision was, just barely, she could see the man's hand clenched tightly into a fist.  His gasps continued.  Esvae managed to look up weakly, dumfounded, as the Mon'keigh continued standing there and gasping, holding himself still, eyes closed.  A confused, pained sound escaped from her.
	Ten or fifteen seconds rolled on by like hours as she stared up at him.
	After this moment Libretcht opened his eyes back up, slowly, and looked down at her.  One of his strong hands reached on down and wrapped a few fingers around her chin, wet as it was, forcing her to remain looking at him.
	"I'm not done," he growled, his voice raw and hard.  “Not yet."
	At that he turned back around and began to stalk away.
	Confusion turned to terror as Esvae saw him moving back over to the control panel.
	He wasted no time in manipulating the controls, not bothering to make a show of it any longer.  His hands merely began to fly across the steel panel, pushing the buttons here and there.  Once more the devices in the floor and walls began to clank and twist, grinding, moving the chains.
	At first Esvae's arms were lifted on above her, straight above her head.  They then began to pull her up off her knees, the blood flowing through her ankles and legs once more, almost painfully.  Once she was standing up it continued pulling up for another few inches, up and up, forcing her onto just the balls of her feet.  Both of them ended up very close together, nearly touching.
	Her arms were then pulled up and back, painfully, up and behind her head.  The Eldar found her balance precarious- her arms were stretched out back and over her just enough to be a pain.  As soon as she tried to shift her weight, however, or place her feet back fully upon the floor, the pain in her shoulders became something torturous.
	This confirmed once more that the Mon'keigh was a sick bastard.  She'd have voiced as much, were it not for the gag.
	Liebrecht moved back over to her, circling around the Eldar, and then crouched on down close.
	Strong, capable fingers wrapped themselves in the hem-line of her paints.  Almost teasingly slow they then began to peel down the skin-tight material, down over the toned curve of the Eldar's rear.  It seemed to strain half-way down, and then suddenly rolled on down the rest of the way with an easily imaginable pop.  Liebrecht made a pleased noise, then began to roll down the soft material down to her calves.
	The cold, chill air of the ship began to drift between the Eldar's legs.  Already she had begun to shiver, for an entirely different reason.
	Her mind had long since given up on guessing what was coming next.  Thinking was too painful and sickening.
	Liebrecht's fingertips began to almost imperceptibly began to run along Esvae's tiny flower.  The tip of one slipped inside, lightly, and she all knew he was studying her.
	"Ahhhhh," the man rumbled, immensely satisfied.  “You have not found a, ah, mate.  This should prove enjoyable."
	Another tremble shook through her body, threatening to take her off balance.
	The same fingers reached on up to her face, a few sticking on into her mouth.  A protesting sound escaped Esvae as he collected the spittle from before, on his fingers, and then lowered them back on down to her inhuman snatch.
	Much like when they had first met, the inquisitor began to lightly prod and test at her body, his fingers running along the softest of her skin with a light touch.  He felt the inhuman tightness of her womanhood, the extreme small size of it, the other idly finding itself back on her heart-shaped posterior.  After more squeezing at her impressive ass they trailed on up, hot on Esvae's skin, to rest back upon one of her breasts.  Idly the fingers began to tweak at one of her nipples once more.
	And then two digits of his other hand's fingers slipped on inside her.
	The young, virgin Eldar was not quite prepared for such an assault.  Still having her hardening nipple tweaked, his other fingers began to gently ease in and out of her snatch.  After pausing for a moment, and orienting himself, the man then began to gently poke at her clit with the tip of his thumb.
Pure, inhuman pleasure shot on up through the Eldar's spine, a wake of liquid fire that began to make her legs buckle and shake.  A happy noise also escaped from the gag.  The inquisitor noticed it, to Esvae's disgust.  Ignoring all the treating of her body like a toy, this felt plain disgusting on an entirely new level.  That she was pleasured by his touch, and she knew he knew, was intimacy on a level she was not mentally prepared for.  The Eldar's eyes began to squeeze shut as another tear slid free.
	For a few more moments the inquisitor continued his assault, one hand kneading and playing with a breast, the other fingering her at a steady pace.
	But both soon vanished.  For several long seconds there was an ominous silence, nothing happening.
	Then something long and hard began to press between her legs.  The meaty, hot shaft poked on between her thighs and ran slickly against her skin.  Her legs trembled more, already, and she forced herself to not look down at it.  There was no doubt in Esvae's mind that it was easily seen, poking on between her legs and off in front of her, such was it's size.
	Liebrecht pulled it on back, slowly, letting his warm skin glide against her sensitive womanhood and thighs.  The slow, slick drag only seemed to further remind her of the entire length, and size, that he would soon be placing inside of her.
	In fact, that seemed to be just the thing on the inquisitor's mind.  Almost as soon as the grinding skin-on-skin contact had vanished the Eldar could feel a new sensation.
	Something fat and unyielding began to press at her virginity.  Liebrecht wasn't quite trying to put it in yet, but the Eldar already had no idea how he could manage to fit the entire thing inside.  Terrified, more than ever, she began to make low protesting noises in her throat.  Simultaneously Liebrecht began to run his head along her snatch, teasingly, the inhumanly tight flesh there barely yielding as he slid it to and fro.
	Despite her terror, and unease, his teasing and light touches had gotten to her.  Esvae's thighs were slick and wet with her own juices, even now continuing to grow in volume.

	It stole her breath when Liebrecht ceased to run his mighty rod against her, to and fro, and instead pressed the head into her with some force.
	A large breath escaped Esvae's mouth as just the tip pressed on in, her subtle flesh already being stretched.  She'd have fallen to the ground, the bindings pulling painfully at her shoulders, were it not for the hands wrapped painfully about her waist.  Instead the long, long breath continued to pour on free from her mouth, emptying her lungs as the meaty shaft just barely inside her began to slowly push further inside.
	The initial tension passed, Esvae realized, which meant that the flare of his tip had fully entered.  Not enough to take her womanhood, she was aware.
	This changed when the inquisitor thrust his hips onward, viciously stabbing his length inside.
	Esvae's eyes went wide and she screamed, loud, futilely through the gag.  It felt as though she had been stabbed by some blade, such was the pain, and a small trickle of blood began to run down the inside of one leg.  The pain was blindingly sharp, overwhelming, and crushed the Eldar into a nearly catatonic state.
	As soon as her screams ended Liebrecht continued his advance.
	His manhood began to inch on forward, still further, feeling as though he was going to split her in half.  The position was torture- she was barely held up by his own helping arms, but Esvae knew that they were only a temporary blessing.  Standing as she was, hands high above her, ankles pressed together, she was in no position to easily take his massive girth and size.  Each second her legs felt more ready to collapse, and then her arms would all but be torn out of the sockets.  Already her wrists were feeling raw, potentially bleeding, though they were nowhere near the pain of that first initial thrust.
	Another one brought Liebrecht another two inches inside, to the sound of another scream.  Esvae had no basis of comparison for this pain, or sensation, and found her stomach muscles lightly clenching in order to try and halt him.
	A loud, pleased moan escaped from Liebrecht's mouth.
	“Yesss,” he hissed.
	More and more of him pressed on in, scraping against the delicate, inner walls of the Eldar's womanhood.  The stretching sensation had yet to fade, almost seeming to grow worse in intensity.
	Another inch squeezed on inside, soliciting another pained sound from Esvae, and then another.  Soon enough the majority of the man's shaft was buried inside her tight folds, as they clenched around him.  The two of them stood there motionless.
	While the pain hadn't precisely vanished, the sharp edge of it had slowly died down.  What pain remained was yet overwhelmed by the nearly tearing and shifting sensation.
	And then he began to slide free.
	The sharp agony of that first initial thrust began to be replaced by a throbbing ache, a sensation of emptiness, nearly as overwhelming.  The Eldar trembled, shaking as her legs almost went limp.  With all of her training and willpower she forced them steady, doing everything within her power to not hurt her arms.
	A wet, popping noise filled the room as Liebrecht's head pulled on free of her tight hole.  And then Esvae screamed again when he thrust back inside, hard, nearly hilting her.
	Now sufficiently prepared, the inquisitor began to pump back and forth, the Eldar's subtle flesh squeezing and gripping him.  Like a vice it clenched down, encouraging the inquisitor's thrusts.  He took it easy at first, still holding much of her weight.  From the start Esvae's back had been set to an amazing arch, her heart-shaped, banshee ass being proudly displayed back towards him.  Idly the inquisitor let go with one hand to slap it, hard, the Eldar crying out in pain.  This same hand reached back to her breasts, wrapping beneath one, fondling the opposite with a great deal of force.
	The next thrust buried him into of the Eldar, to the base, and Liebrecht's balls lightly slapped against her.  His stomach flattened against her tight bottom- for a moment the inquisitor frowned, then peeled on out of his thin shirt with a smooth gesture.  That done he pulled back, barely, and hilted her once more, reliving the moment with his skin against her bottom.
	Over the next few moments the thrusting increased in intensity, Liebrecht's flesh beginning to slap against the Eldar's.  The sounds of their heretical act began to fill the room.  Where Esvae had been spanked was already red, but the flesh surrounding the region begin to turn a similar shade, simply from the intensity of their contact.
	Another particularly vicious thrust hit the Eldar, hard, threatening to literally take her feet out from under her.  She felt the thrust all the way up her bottom, and spine, the only thing keeping her in place the shackles around her ankles and wrists.
	The inquisitor continued his vicious pumping and thrusting, delighting in seeing the Eldar's body writhe and shake before him.  Each pump smacked against her rump, hard, and felt deliciously conforming against his body.  To him, the xeno was beautiful, especially bound as she was.  The Banshee had just the right amount of subtle muscle and curves, graceful and deadly, a knife's elegance.  Forced into the arch as she was, the graceful muscles in her back and shoulders were easy to make out, hidden beneath her flawless skin.
	Moans began to escape from Liebrecht's mouth, a near constant groan.  At the same time his one arm released the Eldar's ribs.  Still thrusting, never ceasing his pounding, the man found the Eldar's breast once more.  He then struck upward, hard, slapping the bottom of it with enough force to make a smacking sound.
	Pain lanced up through her breast, through her chest, and Esvae let out a muffled shriek.
	What had been a masculine moan shifted into a brief chuckle, and then the Inquisitor slapped at the opposite breast with his other hand.  Twice.
	Esvae howled more.  Before she'd even finished roaring in pain the man's hands wrapped around her breasts, engulfing them, and resumed the twisting and squeezing.  He was not gentle in the slightest- digging into her flesh, pulling the mounds back against her ribs.  The burn from his slaps persisted through the kneading, muffled but not hidden by the many flashes of pain.  Liebrecht's fingers seemed to be there to stay, almost holding onto her for a grip.  The relentless pummeling went on.
	A strange sensation had begun to build up in the Eldar- a burning edge that seemed to grow in intensity with each passing moment, leaving her breathless.  To her shame it felt satisfying, a delightful sensation unknown to her.
	The next couple thrusts were sick, wet squelches that disgusted Esvae beyond belief.  Barely contained moans threatened to escape her lips every moment.  She did her best to put them out of mind, trying to distance herself from the forced pleasure playing out through her body.  Though she somehow knew better, the Eldar tried to force the building orgasm out of her mind the same way.
	For several more long moments Esvae clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, painfully, wishing everything away.
	It was to no avail.  The sweet burning sensation suddenly became unbearable, crushing her like a vast wave, a fist of lightning and fire.  A long cry escaped through the gag as Esvae's body clenched and shivered, and then went slack and still.
	It took the Eldar some time to come back to her senses.  Even then heat still sizzled through her veins, along with a light fluttery sensation that did not abate.
	“To think,” Liebrecht growled, shoving her whole body with a particularly vicious thrust,” that your kind believe themselves any better.  Any different.”
	Esvae ignored his words, letting her head hang limply as she continued to be violated.
	
	Time passed.  Despite his great stature Liebrecht had endurance to match.  His rutting never slowed down for long, though he did alternate between quick pounding and long, even strokes.
	Esvae's legs were shaking frantically when the inquisitor's breathing finally sped up.  One moment it was the same even, level breath, and the next the man was almost hyperventilating.  The sudden change took Esvae's attention.  This meant she was fully aware when the man finally came.
	For a few more thrusts he pounded into the tight virgin Eldar, hard, her flesh lewdly squelching and slurching beneath him.  And then suddenly the man thrust in once more.  Both Liebrecht's hands wrapped around her ribs, just beneath her breasts.  He didn't stop either- pressing against and into her until the bonds pulled at her limbs, burying himself as deeply into the Banshee as he possibly could.
	The Mon'keighs shaft swelled.
	“Nonononooo,” Esvae breathed through the gag.
	The inquisitor finally exploded, his girth throbbing and twitching as he finally came inside of her.  The Mon'keigh let out a disconcertingly loud moan- a series of cries that almost seemed to echo off the walls of the cell.  Esvae could also feel the shaft jerking up and down inside of her, lightly, pulsing with disgusting intensity. 
	Once, twice, it throbbed, then a third time, and kept on it up.  Some slight pressure began to build inside of the Eldar, some mystifying force that pressed into and against her at the same time.
	The Mon'keigh remained in this position well after he finished, buried deep inside Esvae, crushing the Eldar against him.

	Before the inquisitor turned fully softened he pulled out.
	Esvae made a small sound as this happened, the girth sliding inch after inch out of her.  There was no pop this time as he exited- only a massive, massive ache and some ghost sensation of still being filled.  The Eldar's once painfully-tight snatch remained fully open, gaping slightly.
	Despite shooting deep inside of her, and filling the Eldar, the man's load was too much to be contained.  The thick seed began to slowly dribble free, running down the inside of one of Esvae's thighs, mixing with the dried blood.
	A finger poked at her well-used womanhood, briefly, and then the inquisitor let out a happy noise.  His shoes then clomped off, and away, for what would likely be the last time.

	Esvae hardly noticed.  Her entire world was overwhelmed by the terrible need to sleep.  All of her thrashing, screaming, and exertions had taken a toll on her, to speak nothing of her terrible state of mind.  More than anything else her head felt barren and desolate- crushed by her helplessness to prevent her violation.  Running away mentally seemed like the best course of action, so she did.  The Eldar's eyes half glazed over, not focusing on anything.
	She only noticed that Liebrecht returned in the abstract.  It was when the chains and gears within the walls began clanking once more that she was pulled back to herself.
	Instead of resisting Esvae went limp, allowing the chains to pull her whichever which way.  She was moved towards one wall in particular, down and down, most of the exertion lowering her wrists.  After a few moments the Eldar's knees struck the floor, then her upper body was pulled out in front of her.  She let loose a loud grunt of pain when her breasts smashed down into the ground.  Only by sheer luck did she manage to turn  and tuck her head, avoiding the same fate with her nose.  Still.  This left her prostrate on the ground, her round, firm ass put high on display, arms stretched out in front of her.  And it was quite uncomfortable in general- the hard, chill-cold steel against her naked flesh, the Eldar's back set at an unnatural angle.
	Several seconds passed in silence. Esvae then jerked in surprise when something cold and slick dripped down between her cheeks, running down and into her asshole.  The Eldar's eyes shot open in surprise.  There was no way.  Tired protests began to emanate from her gag.
	"Hmm?" Liebrecht murmured.
	She tried again, still unintelligible.  It almost felt like a relief when the Inquisitor reached over and undid the clasp to her gag.  Esvae spat out the damnable object, more dribble running down her lip and onto her chin.
	"No," she breathed, barely a whisper.  "No, Mon'keigh."
	He seemed to consider this for a moment.
	"I find it hard to agree with your demands, xeno, when you keep calling me that."
	"You do not understand."
	Liebrecht let out a skeptical grunt and returned to his work.  Esvae could not precisely see what he was up to, being behind her and locked to the ground, so her butt twitched once more at a few more gloplets of that liquid.  Another beat or two passed, and then something slender and hard pressed up against her tiny star.
	"No," she breathed again.
	It tickled at first- the small object pressing up against her never-used hole.  As an Eldar, Esvae had only barely passed small crystalline matter on a weekly basis.  Even the small vibe was beyond anything she had ever taken.  The tiny tip continued pressing at her with growing pressure.  It almost seemed like it would not go in at first- and then suddenly the pressure vanished, just, and the first centimeter pressed on in.
	Esvae almost let out a howl, a scream, and jerked her hips away and to one side.  Though she had little room, her heart-shaped ass could still be swept to either side, torturous as it was.  The tiny wand slipped on free.
	Liebrecht let out a laugh.  Sitting on down beside her, the man reached over and wrapped his left arm around her waist.  The two struggled for a moment, Esvae trying to press back away and to the other side, the inquisitor's arm tensing and locking her into place.  Were it any other position she might have had a chance- but the bound limbs and great strength were too much for her to overcome.
	Again the wand pressed on inside, easier this time.  Another silent scream escaped her mouth, the Eldar's body convulsing.
	"If I did not know better," Liebrecht murmured," I'd say you like this.  You like disgusting Mon'keighs playing with your ass."
	Esvae let out a quiet snarl.
	"Is that all banshees, or just yourself, I wonder?"
	More pressure was applied, the toy sliding in fractionally more.  It was impossible to ignore the thing pressing into her rectum, bit by tiny bit, the pressure it was exerting almost unbearable.  Her fingers begin to claw at the plasteel ground, futilely.  On and on it continued poking in, challenging the strength of her rear as it was pressed inside with more and more strength.  The lubrication did it's job- without it the feat would have no doubt been impossible.
	With a bit more speed the object suddenly began to be pulled free, the few inches sliding on out with almost as much difficulty.  Esvae attempted to stifle the low groan, but it escaped her lips none-the-less.
	"I was right," Liebrecht muttered, mostly for her benefit.
	The barest tip slipped on free, still resting against her tiny, puckered star.  Some of the lube seemed to dribble around the tip, caught between it and her flesh.  After basking in the sight for a few long moments Liebrecht began to be press it back in.
	Again her sphincter began to stretch, pressed into with much greater ease this time.  The inquisitor continued pushing it back in, further this time, faster, Esvae holding her breath.  In addition to the general unpleasantness, and strange sensation, dull pain was running up her lower back and ass.  Even her cheeks burned, lightly, beginning to be eased just barely to either side.
	For another minute the inquisitor continued pumping it in and out, allowing her rear passage to become acclimated to the toy.  On and on he increased in speed, up until the entire four inches was plunging in and out in smooth, rapid motions.  The Eldar lay there, gritting her teeth as he continued plundering her ass.
	As quickly as it had started it was over.  At the end of yanking it free, Liebrecht just pulled out the wand entirely.
	A beat or two passed as the Inquisitor leaned down, approving his handiwork.
	Esvae's sphincter lay barely open, but it was progress none-the-less.

	The room grew silent, save for Esvae's tired breathing, and a quiet sound of a bottle being squeezed.
	Something new began to press into the banshee's virgin rear.  Unlike the slender wand, whatever this was seemed to offer a great deal of resistance.  She gritted her teeth once more as the pain increased, up until it was nearly intolerable.
	And then the ball popped on inside.
	The effect was immediate- Esvae's eyes flew open and a miserable moan escaped her mouth.  For a few seconds her mind went blank, everything gone except for the pressure inside her rectum exerting itself against her walls.  It took Esvae a while to realize it was just that- a sphere of some sort.
	Liebrecht gave her several seconds to adjust, as he had been fond of doing.  She then felt the pressure renewed as something new began to invade her body.  With a sudden flash of terror she realized that the old object was still inside, yet to be released.
	"Nononono."
	The second ball was nearly as difficult as the first.  As soon as it was mostly inside the banshee's 
clenching sphincter pulled it the rest of the way, making an almost silent pop.  Esvae howled once more.
	“If I knew you loved this so much I'd have started this way.”
	Esvae felt too violated to dignify that with an answer.
	It was quite alien, the sensation of having so much in her rear at once.  Though each of the balls were only just an inch in diameter it was still magnitudes greater than anything the Eldar had been built for.
	For the first time a strong urge took Esvae.  Without any warning she began to clench, hard, trying to displace the plastic toy.
	Liebrecht watched as the second sphere pushed against her tight, little star, edging it just barely more open.  Several long seconds passed before she gave up, her body slackening, barely.  It slipped back all the way inside.
	“Relax,” Liebrecht urged, his voice almost velvety,” and this will be over sooner.  That was two of eight.”
	Two of... eight?
	The Eldar let out a gasp and began to struggle once more.  Liebrecht tightened his grip, snorted, and pressed in the third, the next cry pleasure to his ears.
	On and on it went.  The fourth took a bit more finessing, and then the fifth took several long moments.  The last, sixth one seemed to take an eternity, Esvae's bowels struggling to accept so much for the first time.  Two remained, but it seemed that the Inquisitor was done for the time being.
	“This is the best part,” the inquisitor rumbled.  “Well done.”
	She had no idea what he spoke of.  
	This changed, when all of a sudden the pressure reversed, all of the balls starting to slide on free.  One by one the balls slipped on out, slowly, each passing through her tight ring.  After they had exited her natural tightness clenched back down, and then it began to be pulled open for the next.  The sensation was beyond alien for Esvae, incomprehensible, though it was appropriately close to the natural function of a human's rear.
	As the fourth sphere popped on free Esvae let out another shriek, half moan and a cry, her insides all but melting.  The Eldar's body clenched and spasmed around the toy, the sensation of her first anal-spurred orgasm completely overwhelming.  Unlike before the smoothness and cold of the tile felt refreshing.  Her body continued trembling and shivering for some time.
	It was a while before Esvae realized the last of them had already been pulled free.
	She'd already been treated to the sudden sensation of openness, of being stretched and then released, but this was on an entirely new level.  The well lubricated spheres had held open her bowels to a greater extent.  Even now the Eldar could almost feel a chill air run across her insides, cool against the lube that stuck along her walls.
	It was not a sensation she felt for long.  As before, Liebrecht began to press back in the first sphere.
	She was in no condition to protest- a garbled noise was the best Esvae could manage.

	This time the Inquisitor managed to get seven inside, and pulled the entire string of balls out with a tad more speed.  Like before it completely smashed the Eldar's psyche, overwhelming her with pleasure and disgust.
	The final sphere was almost painful.  Eight inches of plastic spheres crammed into her tight ass.  These were pulled out in a smooth yank, sliding free in one long motion.  Esvae's tongue had fallen out of her mouth around this point, a small puddle of drool forming on the floor.

	She lost count how many times this was repeated.
	Even if she had been expecting it, the Eldar was not fully prepared for the Mon'keighs last invasion.
	The pressure of the balls had been gone for several long moments.  Something new began to press against her star, hot and ticklish.  Esvae howled a cry as it began to press on inside of her, overwhelmed by another intrusion, this one of a far larger magnitude.  It felt massive, and it took her a few moments to realize it was the Mon'keighs cock.
	Despite all the preparation it still felt way too damn big.  The Eldar began to whimper in pain, which quickly turned into an ear-splitting scream.  The head was all but breaking her, it felt like, splitting her in two.  It was barely in but already stretched her beyond belief.  The Eldar's fingers tensed like claws on the floor.
	Liebrecht had some trouble forcing his rod inside of her.  His swollen head continued pressing up against her sphincter, barely making progress.
	Several minutes passed, of that nerve-wracking, overwhelming pain, and then suddenly something gave.
	Just the tip slipped on in- the fat, bulbous head finally forcing it's way into Esvae's tight passage.  Her back arched, tightened, and Esvae let out another scream, one that did not end for several seconds.
	The inquisitor groaned as she tightened around him, squeezing, and held still.  Only after the cry died down did he resume.
	Esvae never ceased her protests, alternating between screaming her displeasure, or begging for him to stop.  A human female would have felt much the same, to say nothing of an Eldar.
	Only two inches had made it into her rear.  Hairy thighs pressed against the outside of her own and against the sides of her hips.
	Liebrecht changed his tactics.  Slowly he began to ease out, the Eldar's body assisting him with the act.  Rather than exiting entirely (as Esvae begged and wailed to happen) the inquisitor then began to press back in the short length, returning the two inches.  Her vice-like bowels crushed down around him, unbearably hot, but admitted his meat back inside.
	Liebrecht did this for some time- just barely thrusting in those two inches, then exiting, over and over and over, dragging and pulling at her insides as he did.  Each time just a tiny more would be admitted.
	The process was unimaginably painful for the banshee.  Tears mixed with her saliva on the floor, the ragged edge to her voice returning as she screamed.  Beyond just the pain, the sensation of being split in half, this was without doubt the most dirty sensation the Eldar had ever experienced.  The fact that it was a Mon'keigh did nothing to help this.  Any pleasure she did feel was crushed by the overwhelming feeling of being helpless, to stop this pain, to stop the entire situation from escalating.  She was simply too weak.
	Something like an hour of short pushes and pulls went by, stirring her bowels, before the inquisitor had made good distance.  Half of his shaft was now buried into the banshee's magnificent rear.  Both the man's hands wrapped around her cheeks, clawing and squeezing at the toned flesh.
	Suddenly he began to rear back and pull on free for the first time.  It felt as though her insides were being stirred, the sudden sensation of her bowels being vacated entirely alien.  Something uncomfortably close to pleasure ran through the Eldar.
	Liebrecht stopped before his head came free, and then shifted his waist, beginning to press inside once more.
	Though her insides clamped, and tried to shut him out, the toys and lubrication had readied her.  His girth slowly thrust back inside, squeezing deeper and deeper.
	Esvae's tears had been flowing for some time.  The burning sensation of already crying herself dry was nothing compared to the Mon'keighs violation.
	Again the man pulled out, the sensation of being turned inside-out returning.  The next thrust was more hard, more vicious, and another inch shoved inside.  Esvae would have screamed, if her voice didn't finally feel so broken.  A grimace touched her face, that and a low grunt being the only sound she made.
	The man began to build up his speed, burying his shaft inside, pulling out to nearly half-way.  Each thrust threatened to knock the air out of the Eldar.  The next took her hard, inch after inch filling up her rectum, and another lance of pain and pleasure ran up her spine.  The constant, sharp edge slowly had begun to disappear, replaced with the pleasant sensation of pressure against her vaginal walls.  The girth, with all of its stretching, was felt through the thin membrane separating her channels.  Resistance was also slowly easing away, assisted by the slick glide of the lubrication.
	Liebrecht's hands released her rear, raising and instead clamping around her waist.  He then began to assist his strokes, pulling the Eldar back to meet him, thrusting in and out with increasing speed.
	This didn't last long.
	Seemingly possessed to bury himself deep in the Banshee's rump, the inquisitor ceased his pumping, instead all but crawling onto her back.  Pressing forward with his waist, the man began to incessantly press into Esvae with an unbearable amount of force.  The almost-pleasing sensation was quickly replaced by the inquisitor's furious invasion and shifting of her guts- something that was in no way a good feeling. 
	Esvae surprised herself by screaming again.
	Another two inches were jammed up her round bottom but still more remained.  The inquisitor grunted and pulled on out.  More than before Esvae could imagine her guts pulling out with him, squeezing and being drawn out by the girth of his shaft.  Something shifted, she was certain.
	After the man's swollen head popped on free Esvae sucked in air through her clenched teeth.
	The plastic of the bottle creaked more, followed by the wet smack of the inquisitor stroking himself.  Rather than resume the bottle crackled further- the man no doubt lathering up to the fullest extent.
	A handful more seconds ticked by and then the bulbous tip of his rod lined back up.
	The first several inches squeezed on inside.  And then Liebrecht violently jerked forward and sunk back into her.
	Something seemed to give way- something tearing, and Esvae screamed out for the last time.
	After pulling out fractionally, and thrusting forward once more, Liebrecht finally bottomed out.  His balls slapped up against the drenched womanhood of the Banshee, his hips and stomach pressed tightly against her rear.  The xeno's skin felt burning hot against his own.
	For a moment the inquisitor pressed forward, testing to see if he might be able to press any more last bits inside of her.  When this turned out to be impossible he experimentally moved his hips side to side, left and right, and felt the all-but-impaled Eldar move with him.
	The inquisitor was pleased.  Nearly a foot of throbbing, human cock had been forced up the Eldar's incompatible bottom.  Their bodies were literally not meant for such a thing, but he had still conquered and forced himself deep inside the most shapely of Aspect Warrior rear.  The full, womanly ass lay before him, heart-shaped and toned, raising further up to the female's sweating back.
	Everything had gone black, distant, and quiet to Esvae.  Only technically awake, the Banshee drifted away as the Mon'keigh resumed.  The massive spikes of pain remained, along with the soreness of her womanhood and legs, to say nothing of her spine.  But this was no longer important to her.
	Only ever pulling out half-way, the inquisitor began to thrust deeply and hard, setting his pace and enjoying her body.  The crushing grip of her forbidden passage continued, along with the sickeningly hot temperature of her core.

	By the time the inquisitor was close to finishing Esvae nearly felt numb, rather than agonizingly pained.  It came as a relief when the man's large weight finally dropped on her back, pressing against her, and remained.  As before the Mon'keigh came deep inside of her, throbbing and pulsing, filling her rectum with his seed.
	After pumping halfheartedly a few more times Liebrecht pulled on free, then began to walk around the room and collect his clothes.  The clamps holding onto Esvae's ankles and wrists vanished, though she remained in the same exact position, all but catatonic.

	She did notice when the door to the cell opened and some new figure stepped inside.  Out of the corner of her eye, and through her bangs, Esave could just barely see some red robes.

	The new arrival's voice was impossibly deep and electronic.  She found herself struggling to understand what it said.
	“Good evening, Inquisitor.”
	“Mordeci,” Liebrecht rumbled, his voice pleasant-sounding once more.   “You may take your samples, then you are to clean this xeno and bring her to the brig.  Until... I figure something out.”
	“As you wish, Inquisitor.”

	After a short pause the door closed.  Esvae found herself alone with this new being, not quite sure of what to expect.  The last shred of the Eldar's dignity compelled her to fall from the humiliating position down to one side.
	Heavy, heavy boots of some metal stepped over to her.

	“Good evening, xeno,” it buzzed, the same mono-tone rumble.
	Esvae didn't respond.  The bulky shape gazed down at her.  The overhead lights reflected off black, matte metal, some of it shifting and wriggling like snakes.
	Several seconds passed.
	“I require samples.  Please cease moving, so that this may be completed faster.”
	More seconds ticked by.  Esvae was hardly breathing, let alone moving.
	Satisfied, the tech-priest began to do his thing.  Some sharp blade was scraped along her arm, lightly, and a snip of hair was cut from the Eldar's head.  It's when the man leaned down and pressed an arm against her side that Esvae began to squirm.
	“I require cerebrospinal fluid.  Do not struggle.”
	The Eldar was about to speak, and question that, when her back suddenly was replaced with a giant ball of agony.
	She did scream, and struggle, though the tech-priest held her steady.

	The agony abruptly vanished, though her back still screamed in protest.  Esvae weakly rolled onto her stomach and began to crawl away.
	“I require gastrointestinal fluid.”
	Esvae knew vaguely what was coming.  Her crawling quickened, fractionally, her legs still numb and useless.
	She made it as far as four feet when a metallic, pinching hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled her back.  Esvae was then flipped over.
	From up close she was able to get a much closer look at the tech-priest.  Clad in mostly sanguine robes, the being was a disgusting amalgam of Mon'keigh flesh and technology.  Where the face should have been was only a black, vaguely skull shaped protrusion with two red lenses and a tide of tubes and cables.  Though hard to be certain she figured this Mon'keigh a male.
	Again he plunged the needle into her, this time into the Eldar's naval, piercing through the sensitive scar and abdominal muscle.  She cried out again, lost in the agony.

	After what felt like forever the being called Mordeci pulled out the needle, part way, followed by a light searing sensation.  It was then pulled out entirely.
	“Very good,” he rumbled.  “In accordance with the Inquisitor's orders, you are to now make use of the washbasin.”
	The corner of the room looked more appealing.  Esvae crawled that way.

	Her stomach all but plummeted when the tech-priest stalked after her.
	“You are to now make use of the washbin,” he repeated.  “Assistance is offered, should it be required.”
	Esvae finally spoke, her voice a dry rasp.  “Go burn in the warp, you filthy goddamn Mon'keigh.”
	“Arise.  If you continue dawdling I shall break one of your fingers.”
	The Eldar considered that, let out a frustrated growl, and clumsily began to pull herself up.  As she got up to her knees Esvae halted for a moment- the more hand-like hand of the techpriest was lowered down to her.  She blinked at it for a moment, at the tools that should have been fingers, and then awkwardly clutched at it.  The thing squished fractionally and felt cold as the dead.
	Mordeci pulled her to her feet.  Standing brought back all of the damned aches and pains in full and the Banshee found it all but impossible to balance.  Awkwardly she stumbled a few feet to one side, supporting herself against the wall.
	“This way, xeno.”
	The tech-priest turned on the spot and began to move toward the door.

	Realization caused the Eldar to pause a beat.

	She had survived.  While she might not know what would be coming next, she had /survived/.

	The warp would last forever.  This would only be temporary.

	Esvae finally followed after the tech-priest, leaning heavily against the plasteel walls.  Images of how she might kill Liebrecht flashed through her mind, one after the other.

	Soon.