It thrusts itself inside her core without a sense of preamble or generosity. This is not for her. The burn and the stretch of its force leave her vibrating; the alien mass turned to need.  It hurts.  It does this for inscrutable reasons, for madness. It pumps and drags itself forward centimetre by bloody centimetre. This new anchor is ample and it uses leverage. Limbs reach around to grasp her thighs and cut, her buttocks and spine mere handholds for its desire.