A young woman on the edge of insolvency reluctantly takes a job at a shady kennel, but will it break her or lead her to an unexpected higher calling?
--- Chapter 1 ---
Lila's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the steering wheel of her battered pickup truck, knuckles whitening against the worn leather as the engine rattled like an old man's cough down the rutted dirt road. The sun hung low in the afternoon sky, casting long shadows over the endless fields of withered corn stalks that bent under the weight of neglect, much like her own life had bent and broken over the years. At twenty-two, she felt ancient, worn thin by a string of misfortunes that had started long before this desperate job hunt. Her parents' farm—once a sprawling haven of golden wheat and lowing cattle—had crumbled under drought and debt when she was just sixteen, the bank foreclosing with cold efficiency, hauling away equipment while her father drank himself into oblivion and her mother wept silently in the kitchen. Lila had watched it all, helpless, mucking stalls until her hands blistered, feeding livestock that would soon be auctioned off to strangers. Those fragmented memories clung to her like burrs: the earthy smell of hay mixed with manure, the warmth of a calf's nose nuzzling her palm, the sharp pang of loss when the last truck pulled away, leaving empty barns and a family fractured beyond repair.
College had been her escape, or so she'd thought—a community program in animal care, funded by loans that now loomed like storm clouds, interest accruing faster than she could breathe. But the degree led nowhere; jobs were scarce in this dying rural town, where factories shuttered and farms consolidated under corporate giants. She'd bounced from one dead-end gig to another: waitressing at greasy diners where patrons' hands wandered too freely, their leers making her skin crawl, or stocking shelves at the local feed store, enduring the owner's crude jokes about "handling big loads." Her boyfriends hadn't helped—men like Jake, who promised forever but left her with a black eye and an empty bank account after draining her savings for his "business ideas," or Tom, whose jealousy turned violent, accusing her of flirting with customers while he cheated openly. Each relationship chipped away at her, leaving her more isolated, more distrustful, her wide green eyes—once bright with youthful hope—now shadowed by caution and exhaustion. Freckles dotted her pale skin like scattered stars, her long auburn hair tied back in a practical ponytail that swayed with every bump in the road, and her curves, full and inviting under faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt, felt more like a curse than a blessing, drawing unwanted attention in a world that preyed on vulnerability.
The ad had caught her eye in the classifieds section of the local paper, crumpled on the counter of her cramped apartment—the one she shared with a roommate who was always late on rent, forcing Lila to cover the difference from her meager tips. "Kennel assistant needed. Good pay, room and board included. Experience with animals a plus." It sounded straightforward, almost too good to be true in this economy, but desperation made her dial the number anyway. Carl's voice on the phone had been gruff, like gravel crunching under boots, but there was a kindness in his tone that she clung to, a promise of stability amid the chaos. Dogs weren't cows or horses, but how different could it be? Feeding, cleaning, walking—simple tasks that might give her a roof over her head and enough cash to chip at those loans, maybe even save for a fresh start somewhere far from this godforsaken town. She couldn't afford to be picky; eviction loomed if she didn't make rent next week, and the thought of crashing on a friend's couch again, or worse, returning to her parents' trailer where the air reeked of whiskey and regret, twisted her gut. This job was a lifeline, thin and frayed, but she'd grasp it with both hands.
The kennel emerged over the hill like a forgotten fortress, chain-link fences enclosing rows of runs where dogs barked in a discordant symphony, their voices echoing across the empty fields. "Carl's Canine Haven," the rusted sign proclaimed, though "haven" seemed a stretch; the place looked weathered, functional, with barns sagging under years of wind and rain, the air thick with the musky tang of fur, earth, and something sharper, more primal that Lila couldn't quite place. She parked beside a cluster of old vehicles, her truck's engine sputtering to a halt, and stepped out, smoothing her jeans self-consciously. Her curves filled them out snugly, hips swaying unintentionally as she walked, a habit from years of navigating male gazes that made her feel exposed, vulnerable. No makeup adorned her freckled face—just those wide green eyes, framed by lashes damp from the humid air, eyes that had seen too much loss, too many betrayals, making her look younger, more innocent than her hardships warranted.
Carl waited by the main gate, a towering figure in his late forties, burly with arms like knotted ropes from years of labor, his salt-and-pepper beard framing a face etched by sun and solitude. Overalls stained with mud and mystery clung to his broad frame, and as Lila approached, his eyes raked over her form—lingering on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips—with an intensity that made her stomach flutter uneasily. It wasn't new; men had looked at her that way since puberty hit, turning her body into a magnet for unwanted advances, but she pushed it down, extending her hand. "You must be Lila," he grunted, his grip engulfing hers, calluses rough against her softer skin, squeezing just a tad too long, too firm, as if testing her resolve.
"Yes, sir. Ready to get started," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot in her throat. Inside, doubts swirled— was this another trap, like the jobs where bosses expected "extras" for a paycheck? But she needed this, needed the escape from the cycle of poverty that had trapped her family, trapped her. She shook his hand, ignoring the way his grip tightened just a fraction.
The dogs erupted in fresh barks—German Shepherds with alert ears, Labs with wagging tails, Rottweilers pacing with raw power, mutts that looked bred for endurance rather than show. The chorus was overwhelming, a wall of sound that drowned her thoughts, the air growing heavier with that primal scent, making her nostrils flare.
"Got thirty or so right now," Carl explained, his boots thudding on the packed earth. "Breeding operation mainly, but we board some too. Your job: feed 'em, clean the runs, exercise 'em. And... service 'em." The word landed oddly, hanging between them like a veiled threat, but Lila blinked, assuming it meant grooming or vet prep. Servicing animals? Her mind flashed to farm days, bottle-feeding orphans, but dogs were different—pets, companions, not livestock. Still, she nodded, ignoring the unease creeping up her spine.
Lila blinked, the word hanging oddly in the air. "Serviced? Like health checks?" she asked, her voice small against the barking din.
Carl chuckled, a low rumble that didn't warm his eyes, more like thunder rolling distant. "Nah, girl. These boys get pent up. Need release to keep 'em healthy, productive breeders. You'll catch on quick." His words twisted in her gut, a vague alarm bell ringing, but she shoved it aside—probably meant massages or something benign. Desperation blinded her to red flags; she'd ignored worse in past jobs, like the diner owner who "accidentally" brushed her ass daily. They entered the main barn, the air denser, laced with urine's sharpness and that earthy undercurrent, cages lining the walls where dogs eyed her curiously. A black Lab in the nearest pen pressed its nose to the bars, tail thumping furiously, its gaze oddly intent.
"Start with feedin' 'em," Carl said, thrusting a bucket of kibble into her hands. "Then we'll get to the real work." The weight grounded her, a familiar task pulling her back to farm routines, scooping portions into bowls while dogs lunged eagerly, slobber flying. Her arms ached by the tenth cage, sweat beading on her freckled skin, but she worked steadily, Carl's gaze heavy on her back, watching every bend and stretch. Lunch came in the small office, a sandwich on a chipped plate amid faded posters of dog breeds, the room stuffy with old coffee and paper.
The morning passed in a blur of scoops and hoses, her arms aching by noon. Carl watched her often, his gaze heavy, but he said little. Lunch was a sandwich in the small office attached to the barn, where faded posters of dog breeds adorned the walls. "You live nearby?" she asked, trying to make conversation.
"Here," he replied curtly. "You will too, if you take the room. Saves time."
She nodded, the isolation sinking in. No neighbors for miles, just fields stretching endless, howls piercing the night like lonely cries. She nodded, the weight settling; this place was a bubble, cut off from the world that had already chewed her up.By afternoon, Carl led her to a back room she hadn't noticed before—a dimly lit space with concrete floors, drains centered like ominous mouths, and what looked like padded mats scattered around. Chains hung from hooks on the walls, and a shelf held bottles of lube, gloves, and other items that made her cheeks flush—her heart stuttered, the pieces clicking too late.
"Time for the servicing," Carl announced, his tone matter-of-fact. He opened a side door, and in bounded a Golden Retriever, Max by his tag, coat gleaming, tongue lolling as he sniffed her legs insistently, cold nose brushing her thigh through jeans, making her flinch. Panic bloomed— this wasn't right, but the door was shut, Carl blocking it casually.
"What... what do I do?" Lila stammered, her voice trembling, green eyes wide with dawning horror.
Carl's lips curled into a smirk. "These dogs ain't just pets, girl. They're studs. Breeders. But to keep 'em prime, they need regular release. Handjobs, mouth, whatever it takes. Some like it rougher."
The words slammed into her like a fist, her mind reeling. "You mean... sexually?"
Revulsion surged, bile rising as memories of abusive exes flashed, their rough hands forcing her into acts she hated, but this was beyond taboo, animalistic, wrong.
"Damn right. Part of the job. Pays extra good 'cause not everyone's cut out for it." He stepped closer, his breath hot on her neck. "You back out now, no hard feelings. But you stay, you do it all." His tone brooked no argument, eyes raking her body like property.
Lila's thoughts raced— loans crushing her, bills piling up, eviction notices, the emptiness of her old life. This was degradation, but survival demanded sacrifices. She swallowed hard. "Show me."
Approval flashed in Carl's eyes, dark and hungry. He grabbed a bottle of lube from the shelf and squirted some into her palm. "Start slow. Get him hard."
Max was already excited, his red rocket peeking from its sheath as he humped the air near her thigh. Lila knelt, her knees cold on the concrete, and reached out tentatively. The dog's cock was warm, slick, veiny—thicker than she'd imagined. She wrapped her fingers around it, stroking gently at first, feeling it swell in her grip. Max whined, thrusting into her hand, his hips bucking with animal urgency.
"Faster," Carl instructed, his voice rough. "Squeeze the knot at the base—that's what gets 'em off."
She did, her hand slick with lube and the dog's pre-cum, the knot ballooning under her touch like a fist forming. Max panted heavily, his tongue dripping saliva onto her arm, thrusts frantic as hot cum jetted across her hand, splattering her jeans in sticky ropes. The scent was overwhelming—musky, feral, filling her nostrils. Part of her wanted to recoil, but another part, buried deep, stirred with a forbidden curiosity. Max collapsed onto the mat, satisfied, but Lila's skin tingled, repulsion churning with a forbidden curiosity she hated herself for feeling. This was survival, nothing more—she told herself that as she wiped her hand, ignoring the warmth stirring low in her belly, blaming it on shock.
"Good girl," Carl murmured, patting her shoulder, touch lingering. "Now clean up. Next one's bigger."
Lila's stomach twisted anew, but she rose on shaky legs, following to the sink, cold water splashing her face in the cracked mirror. Her reflection fragmented—freckles stark, eyes hollow with accusation. What are you doing? This isn't you—the farm girl who dreamed of vet school, the one who fled abusive hands only to land here. But the bills loomed, poverty's jaws snapping, and she dried her hands, turning back as Carl let Rex in, the black-and-tan beast mounting her leg immediately, nose burying in her crotch through jeans, hot breath making her squirm despite herself.
"This one likes oral," Carl said casually, as if discussing weather. "Keeps his aggression down." Lila shivered involuntarily and her breath hitched in her throat at his words. "On all fours," Carl directed. Lila hesitated, but Carl's stare brooked no argument. She dropped to all fours on the mat, the position feeling humiliatingly exposed. Rex didn't wait; his snout buried between her thighs first, sniffing her crotch through her jeans, his hot breath making her squirm. Then he presented himself, cock already half-out, dripping.
She leaned in, the tip brushing her lips. It tasted salty, animalistic—not like a man's. She opened her mouth, taking him in inch by inch, her tongue swirling around the tapered head. Rex growled low, thrusting shallowly, his paws scratching the mat. Saliva mixed with his pre, drooling down her chin. Carl watched from the corner, his hand adjusting his overalls. "Deeper, girl. Swallow it all."
She did, gagging slightly as the knot bumped her lips, but she persisted, bobbing her head in rhythm with his humps. Rex's body tensed, and he flooded her mouth with thick, bitter cum, so much it overflowed, trickling down her neck. She coughed, spitting some out, but swallowed the rest, the warmth settling in her stomach like shame's anchor.
Lila pulled back from Rex, her lips swollen and slick with the remnants of his release, the bitter taste coating her tongue like a lingering accusation. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the sticky trail smear across her skin, but it did little to erase the evidence. Her cheeks burned, not just from the exertion but from the humiliation twisting in her gut.
She stumbled to the sink, the cold water shocking against her flushed face as she splashed it over her mouth and neck. The mirror above was cracked, distorting her reflection into fragmented pieces—a freckled cheek here, a wide green eye there, staring back with accusation. What the hell are you doing? her mind screamed, the repulsion churning in her gut like sour milk. This wasn't mucking stalls or bottle-feeding lambs back on the farm; this was degradation, pure and animalistic. Bills or no bills, eviction or sleeping in her truck, how could she stoop to this? Yet beneath the nausea, a treacherous warmth lingered between her thighs, a faint throb she shoved down deep, blaming it on the adrenaline, the shock. It had to be that. Anything else was unthinkable.
Carl returned without a word, his boots thudding against the floor like judgments. He didn't ask if she was okay; his eyes just appraised her, noting the flush on her cheeks, the damp spots on her shirt. "Next one's Duke. Big boy, Mastiff mix. He's got energy to burn." He unlatched another door, and in lumbered a massive beast, fur the color of wet earth, muscles rippling under a coat that spoke of raw power. Duke's eyes locked on her immediately, dark and unblinking, his tail swishing low as he circled her on the mat. The dog's snout dipped, sniffing at her shoes, then higher, pressing against her thigh with insistent pressure. Lila's breath hitched, her jeans suddenly feeling too tight, too confining.
"Strip down," Carl ordered, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. "He needs full access. Makes it easier, keeps 'em calm."
Her hands froze at the hem of her t-shirt. "What? No, I... I can't—"
You can, and you will," he cut in, his voice like gravel grinding under tires. "Part of the job, remember? Or the door's that way." His stare was heavy, expectant, leaving no room for negotiation. Lila's mind raced—repulsion surged like bile in her throat, the idea of baring herself to this animal, to Carl's watchful eyes, making her want to vomit. This was wrong, degraded, a far cry from the innocent farm girl she'd been. But that deeper pull tugged at her, a curiosity laced with necessity, whispering that one more step wouldn't break her, that the money would buy freedom eventually. With trembling fingers, she peeled off her shirt, the cool air raising goosebumps on her freckled skin. Her bra followed, exposing her full breasts, nipples hardening against her will in the drafty room. Jeans next, shimmying them down her hips, panties clinging briefly before joining the pile. Naked now and vulnerable, she knelt on the mat, her auburn ponytail swaying as she tried to cover herself with her arms.
Duke didn't hesitate. The dog advanced, his cold nose burrowing between her thighs, forcing them apart. Lila gasped, the sensation electric—rough tongue lapping at her folds, tasting her reluctance and something else, a slickness she hadn't expected. Oh god, no, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, but her body betrayed her, hips twitching involuntarily as the dog's broad tongue dragged over her clit, insistent and unyielding. It was invasive, animalistic, nothing like the fumbling touches from ex-boyfriends in dimly lit dorm rooms. Repulsion warred with a forbidden spark, her mind screaming to push him away while her core throbbed, aching for more friction.
Carl chuckled from the sidelines. "See? He knows what he wants. Guide him in, girl. Let him mount you proper."
Lila's eyes flew open, wide with horror. "Mount? You mean..."
"Yeah. Vaginal, like nature intended. Keeps the studs virile." He stepped forward, grabbing Duke's collar to position him behind her. Lila stayed on all fours, the mat scratching her palms, her heart hammering like a trapped bird. This was insanity—letting a dog fuck her? The thought made her stomach churn, tears pricking her eyes. She was no slut, no deviant; she was just broke, desperate, a victim of circumstance. But as Duke's weight settled over her back, his fur coarse against her skin, a thrumming stirred in her clit, her inner lips growing dewy.
The dog's hips jerked, his cock—thick, pointed, already slick—prodding at her entrance. Lila bit her lip, stifling a whimper as he found his mark, thrusting in with one forceful shove. The stretch burned, foreign and unrelenting, filling her in ways that made her gasp. Duke's paws gripped her waist, claws digging lightly into her hips, holding her in place as he pounded away, his rhythm frantic and instinctual. Each thrust sent shocks through her body, the veiny shaft dragging against her walls, the knot at the base swelling but not yet locking. This is disgusting, she thought, tears streaming down her face, but her body arched despite herself, meeting his movements with subtle shifts, chasing that building pressure. The sounds were obscene—wet slaps echoing in the room, her own breaths coming in ragged moans she couldn't suppress.
"Fuck, yeah," Carl muttered, his voice thick. "Take it all. He's close."
Duke's thrusts grew erratic, deeper, the knot bumping against her lips but not pushing in. Lila's mind fractured—repulsion at the degradation, the way her body responded like a traitor, slick and clenching around the invading cock. Yet some pull, some hidden hunger, made her push back, grinding against him as heat coiled low in her belly. With a final, guttural growl, Duke buried himself deep, hot spurts flooding her insides, thick and copious, leaking down her thighs as he pulled out. He dismounted, licking himself clean while Lila collapsed onto the mat, cum dripping from her pussy, her body trembling with aftershocks she didn't want to name.
"Good work," Carl said, tossing her a towel. "Clean up. Two more before dinner."
She wiped herself mechanically, the rough towel scraping against her tender skin, absorbing the sticky mess of Duke's cum that still oozed from her pussy in lazy dribbles. The fabric came away smeared with white streaks, mingled with her own treacherous slickness, and Lila dropped it to the floor with a wet slap, her hands trembling. Her clit pulsed faintly, a betrayal she ignored, focusing instead on the ache in her core—the stretch from Duke's cock lingering like a phantom intrusion, her inner walls clenching around nothing. The room reeked of it all: the sharp tang of dog cum, the musky undercurrent of fur and sweat, her own arousal a faint, shameful note threading through. Carl's eyes bored into her, his overalls tented obviously now, the outline of his thick cock straining against the denim, but he made no move, just watched with that predatory patience, like he was savoring her unraveling.
"Two more," he repeated, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the dim space, bouncing off the concrete walls dotted with drains that now gleamed with spilled fluids. Lila nodded numbly, her auburn ponytail matted with sweat, strands sticking to her freckled neck. She didn't dress; what was the point? Her clothes lay in a crumpled heap by the shelf, stained and discarded like her dignity. Naked, exposed, she felt the cool air kiss her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and thighs, her full breasts swaying slightly as she shifted on the mat, nipples pebbled from the draft and the lingering adrenaline. Her mind screamed at her to run—to grab her keys and bolt for the truck, leave this nightmare behind. But the bills loomed like shadows, the eviction notice a fresh scar in her memory, and beneath it all, that sliver of dark curiosity flickered, unbidden, making her thighs press together briefly, trapping the warmth.
Carl moved to the side door again, his boots thudding heavily, and unlatched it with a metallic click. In bounded the next dog, smaller than the others but wiry and energetic, a Terrier mix with a scruffy coat of mottled brown and white, his eyes bright with excitement. Spike, the tag read, his tail a blur as he yipped sharply, bounding straight for her on the mat. The scent of her—used, dripping—must have hit him like a drug; his pink cock emerged almost immediately from its sheath, slender but rigid, the tapered tip already beading with clear pre-cum that dripped onto the concrete in tiny splatters. Lila's stomach twisted anew, repulsion surging like nausea—this one was smaller, but no less animal, no less wrong. His snout dove between her legs without preamble, cold nose pressing against her cum-smeared thighs, forcing them apart as his rough tongue swiped up the remnants of Duke's load, lapping greedily at the sticky trails with wet, slurping sounds that echoed obscenely.
"Oh—stop," Lila gasped, her hands instinctively pushing at his head, fingers sinking into the scruffy fur, but Spike was insistent, his tongue delving higher, rasping over her puffy folds, tasting the mixed fluids with fervent laps that sent unwanted jolts through her core. The texture was rough, like sandpaper wrapped in velvet, scraping her sensitive clit each time it dragged upward, making her hips jerk despite the bile rising in her throat. This is disgusting, she thought, tears pricking her eyes again, her freckled cheeks flushing hot with shame. I'm letting a dog lick me clean, like some filthy bitch. But her body responded, traitorous as ever, fresh slick leaking to mingle with the cum, her clit swelling under the assault, throbbing with each flick.
Carl chuckled from the sidelines, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the stains on his overalls a testament to years in this world. "He likes the taste of you already mixed up. On your back, girl. Lets him get deeper that way—trains 'em for variety." His command brooked no argument, his eyes dark with approval as he adjusted his bulge again, the fabric rasping audibly. Lila hesitated, her green eyes wide, but the weight of his stare pressed her down. She lay back on the mat, the padded surface cool and sticky against her spine, legs falling open almost automatically now, exposing her used pussy—lips parted, inner pink glistening with remnants, clit peeking red and engorged. The vulnerability hit her like a slap, her arms crossing over her breasts in a futile shield, but Spike didn't care; he scrambled between her thighs, his small paws scratching lightly at her hips as he mounted her lower belly first, his cock jabbing wildly at her skin, leaving wet streaks across her freckled abdomen.
"Guide him in," Carl instructed, kneeling beside her for a moment, his calloused hand grabbing hers and forcing it to the dog's shaft. Lila's fingers wrapped around it tentatively—the skin hot and slick, veiny under her palm, thinner than Duke's but pulsing with the same animal urgency. She bit her lip, stifling a whimper as she angled it downward, the pointed tip prodding her entrance, slipping easily into her cum-lubed hole with a wet squelch. Spike thrust forward immediately, burying himself to the hilt in one frantic shove, his hips snapping with jackhammer speed, rutting into her pussy like a machine gone wild. The intrusion was smoother than before, her body stretched and slick from Duke, but the pace was relentless—quick, shallow jabs that dragged the veiny length over her inner walls, bumping her g-spot repeatedly, sparking fireworks behind her eyes that she tried to ignore.
"Ah—fuck, it's too fast," Lila moaned, her voice breaking, hands gripping the mat as her body rocked with each impact, breasts bouncing freely now, nipples tracing arcs in the air. Repulsion clawed at her chest—this small beast using her like a toy, his fur tickling her inner thighs, paws digging into her sides for leverage, leaving red marks that burned. But the friction built inexorably, heat coiling low in her belly, her pussy clenching around his shaft despite herself, milking the invading cock with rhythmic squeezes. Spike's knot began to swell at her entrance, the bulbous base bumping her lips with every inward thrust, demanding more space, stretching her wider. Panic flickered—it's swelling, locking me again—but Carl was there, his rough hands on her thighs, spreading them further, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Let it in. Push back on him—feel that tie forming."
Lila whimpered, tears spilling down her temples into her hair, but her hips lifted instinctively, grinding against the knot as it pushed insistently, popping inside with a sudden, wet suck that locked them together. The fullness hit her like a wave—exquisite pressure filling her completely, the knot pressing against her g-spot from within, pulsing hot as Spike ground his hips in short circles, no longer thrusting but rutting deep. His cock throbbed, unleashing short, rapid bursts of cum that splashed against her cervix, thick and warm, filling her further until it leaked out around the seal in creamy dribbles. The tie held, minutes stretching as his body shuddered over hers, fur coarse against her skin, hot breaths panting onto her belly. Lila's mind reeled: disgust at the union, the way she was knotted like a bitch in heat, but her clit ached unbearably, and without thinking, her hand snaked down, fingers circling the swollen nub in frantic rubs, chasing the edge.
"No—don't," she whispered to herself, but it was too late; the orgasm crashed over her unbidden, her walls spasming around the knot, milking more cum from Spike as waves of shameful pleasure rippled through her core, her cries echoing raw and broken. "Oh god, I'm cumming... on a dog..." The words hung in the air, amplifying her humiliation, tears flowing freely now as her body betrayed her fully, hips bucking weakly through the aftershocks. When the knot finally deflated with a soft pop, Spike pulled free, a gush of mixed fluids pouring from her pussy, soaking the mat beneath her ass. He licked at her leaking hole briefly, tongue rasping over her sensitive folds, making her twitch, before trotting away contentedly.
Carl tossed her another towel, his grin wolfish, eyes tracing the mess between her legs. "One more before we eat. You're gettin' the hang of it—body's takin' to it natural." Lila wiped herself again, the fabric saturated quickly, her skin tingling with oversensitivity. She sat up slowly, legs shaky, the cum trickling down her thighs in warm rivulets, pooling under her. Exhaustion warred with the lingering throb in her clit, but Carl was already at the door, unlatching it for the final one. "Bruno. The big boy. He's the alpha—gonna test you proper."
Bruno stormed in like a force of nature, the Rottweiler's massive black frame filling the doorway, muscles rippling under his glossy coat, eyes piercing and dominant as he growled low in his throat, asserting his presence. His snout lifted, sniffing the air thick with the scents of sex and submission, and his cock unsheathed immediately—thick as her wrist, veiny and red, the tapered tip dripping pre-cum in heavy drops that splattered the floor. Lila's heart hammered, fear spiking sharp; this one was huge, promising pain, his size dwarfing the others, claws clicking ominously as he circled her on the mat, tail low and swishing. Repulsion hit her like a gut punch—he's a monster, it'll tear me—but her pussy clenched in anticipation, the dark pull stronger now, her body conditioned by the day's assaults.
"Ass up, girl," Carl ordered, his voice rougher, laced with his own arousal as he palmed his cock through his overalls. Lila complied on autopilot, rolling onto all fours, knees and palms pressing into the sticky mat, her ass presented high, back arched, ponytail swaying as she trembled. Bruno didn't hesitate; his cold nose burrowed between her cheeks first, sniffing her thoroughly—pussy and ass, lapping at the mixed cum from Spike and Duke with possessive, rough swipes of his broad tongue. The sensation was overwhelming, invasive; his tongue delved into her folds, scooping out the fluids with wet slurps, then higher, circling her tight pucker, probing the ring with insistent pressure that made her gasp. "No—not there," she whimpered, but her hips rolled back traitorously, seeking the friction, the rough texture sending sparks up her spine, her clit pulsing anew.
Bruno mounted her with a growl, his heavy weight settling over her back, fur coarse and warm against her skin, paws gripping her waist hard, claws pricking her hips and drawing tiny beads of blood that stung like fire. His cock prodded blindly at first, jabbing her thighs, smearing pre across her freckled skin, before finding her pussy entrance and thrusting in with brutal force—one savage shove that buried him deep, the stretch intense, bordering on tearing as his girth filled her completely. Lila cried out, the sound raw and animalistic, her walls clenching around the veiny shaft, every ridge dragging against her sensitive spots as he pounded away, rhythm deep and powerful, jolting her forward with each impact. The sounds filled the room—wet slaps of fur against skin, her ragged moans mingling with his grunts, the mat creaking under their combined weight.
"Fuck—too big, it hurts," Lila sobbed, tears streaming, her arms buckling as she braced against the onslaught, but her body adapted, slick coating his cock, easing the friction into a burning fullness that sparked pleasure amid the pain. Bruno's knot swelled rapidly at her lips, the bulbous base demanding entry, bumping insistently with each thrust. Panic surged—it's huge, it'll split me—but Carl knelt behind her, his hands on her ass cheeks, spreading them wide, thumbs pressing against her entrance to help the knot along. "Relax into it. Let him knot you—feel that tie, girl. It's what he needs."
Lila whimpered, the pressure building unbearably, her pussy stretching wider, wider, until the knot popped in with a wet, sucking sound that locked them tight. The fullness was excruciating and exquisite—her walls clamped around the swelling bulge, trapping them together, Bruno's thrusts shortening to deep grinds, his cock pulsing hot inside her, flooding her with wave after wave of thick cum that swelled her belly slightly, leaking out in spurts around the seal. The tie held for what felt like eternity—ten minutes, fifteen—his body heavy on her back, breaths panting hot against her neck, claws digging deeper into her hips as he rutted through his release. Lila's mind splintered: disgust at being knotted, reduced to this bestial union, cum sloshing inside her like a claim, but the pressure on her g-spot was relentless, building that heat until her own orgasm exploded, crashing over her in shameful waves. Her cries echoed—"Ahh—fuck, yes—no, oh god"—her pussy milking the knot greedily, spasming endlessly, juices squirting around the tie, soaking her thighs and the mat.
Finally, the knot deflated enough for Bruno to pull free with a gush, a torrent of cum pouring from her gaped pussy, her hole winking open, stretched and raw. Lila collapsed face-down, body trembling, mind a whirlwind—hate this, need this, what am I? Carl helped her up, his touch lingering on her arm, fingers brushing her breast deliberately, his cock still hard under his overalls, untouched. "Damn fine first day. Clean up proper now—shower's in the house. Dinner's waitin'."