Lion Head Mesa postscript: it was a terrible animal always feeding itself

He presses her hard into the cold ground. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, wondering if it would be worse to kill, rather than take her. It is an easy decision to wish for death though it feels so far away. The snarl vibrates her entire form and he jerks her back, thrashing her against the ground and her teeth click together, biting her tongue. Her legs buckle beneath her. The fact she is not standing does not slow him down from press up against her again.
 
Blood coats her mouth a second time and she’s shoved forward in one fell swoop, eyes widening in surprise. Breath inhales sharply, filling her lungs and by the time she’s ready to fight back, he’s yanking her back and forth with surprising speed, one painful thrust after the other. She is not able to get her footing as his weight bears her down and her back legs can’t get traction, splayed out awkwardly against his added weight. While it is over quickly, in theory, it lasts for an eternity, one last lurch forward as he takes whatever she has left and locks himself to her.
 
Her chest heaves in and out as her breathing finally finds a steady pattern in panic; both of them rise and fall with each exchange. All of his weight presses against her, causing pain and discomfort in her entire being and a fire in her groin that is far from pleasant. Any movement she makes, from squirming to get away to trying to find some way better, only causes more pain and his grip upon her hips tightens, forcing her into the ground. Her legs tremble violently against the pressure, lips curling up, trying to snap her head back when she can’t hold back anymore.