These are the last few seconds before she is crying. Before she is begging. Before the bush that now brushes again her chin advances and then settles around, against, and even inside of her nostrils. A moist forest of thick black fur overtaking the only source of air that isn’t trapped within your descending and sealing pussy lips.
And though that doom is her’s, she lays there beneath you calmly as you tie up your hair. Thinking you will soon get off of her, and let her go back to her day, to being your rival, to being an equal, despite the fact that she had only moments before given you her submission.
How foolish and unprepared she is.
Her humiliation and the shattering of her pride as necessary in your mind as her challenge, your acceptance, your battle, and then her giving in. The suffering, satisfaction, and unrelenting punishment you are about to give her the last step, in ending your years-long rivalry.