You wait for her to settle down and accept her fate. Her laughter had weakened her. She writhes and bucks, but your strategic position kept her firmly locked in place on your chest. She makes one final push and grunt but doesn’t succeed in budging your head. Her hooves drop to her chest in defeat and her smiling eyes stare at you expectantly, her open muzzle blasts your face with morning breath as she prepares to exert herself.