Lila is the kennel's newest recruit and she is very much in demand. Will she break under the strain? Or find a strength she never knew?
--- Chapter 2 ---
Lila gathered her clothes with numb fingers, the fabric clinging to her sticky skin as she dressed haphazardly, cum still leaking down her legs in warm trails. The walk to the farmhouse was a blur, the evening air cool on her flushed face, the howls from the kennels a chorus that now felt like an echo of her own fractured desires. Inside, the kitchen smelled of stew simmering on the stove, hearty and normal, a stark contrast to the depravity she'd just endured. Carl served her a bowl without a word, sitting across the scarred wooden table, his presence filling the small space like Bruno's weight had filled her. She ate mechanically, the food tasteless on her tongue, her body aching in ways that went beyond physical—sore muscles, stretched holes, but deeper, that persistent throb between her legs, the memory of knots locking her tight replaying in loops.
"You handled 'em well," Carl said finally, his gravelly voice breaking the silence, a beer cracking open in his hand. "Most don't make it past the first knot. But you... you got that fire in you." His eyes lingered on her lips, swollen from Rex's oral assault earlier, then down to her breasts straining against the damp t-shirt. Lila shifted uncomfortably, the wooden chair hard against her tender ass, but his words stirred something—pride? Power? She pushed it down, focusing on the practical. "The pay... when do I get it?"
"End of the week. But room and board's free, like I said. Your space upstairs—clean sheets, hot water. Get some rest; tomorrow's more of the same." He leaned back, the chair creaking, his bulge still evident, but he made no move, just watched her with that patient hunger. Lila nodded, finishing her meal in silence, the isolation of the farm pressing in—no neighbors, no escape but the endless fields glowing under the moon. Upstairs, her room was sparse: a single bed with a faded quilt, a dresser scarred from years of use, a small window overlooking the runs where shadows of dogs paced, their eyes glinting in the dark.
She stripped in the attached bath, the mirror fogging as hot water cascaded over her, scrubbing vigorously with soap that smelled faintly of pine, trying to erase the day's marks—the claw scratches on her hips, the bite marks, the sticky residues that clung stubbornly. But as her hands roamed, fingers brushing her swollen clit, the memories flooded back: Max's handjob, Rex's cum down her throat, Duke's mount, Spike's frantic rut, Bruno's dominant knotting. Repulsion churned, but so did the heat; her fingers circled faster, dipping into her still-gaped pussy, feeling the lingering stretch, the warmth of remembered fullness. "Sick... I'm sick," she whispered, but the orgasm built swift and hard, her knees buckling as she came against the tile, moans muffled by the spray, body shuddering with a release she hated needing.
Dried and in bed, the sheets crisp against her naked skin, sleep came fitful—dreams of furred bodies pressing her down, Bruno's knot swelling inside her, filling her insides with fire until she burst into a phoenix around his throbbing cock. She woke in a cold sweat, thighs slick anew, clit aching, the howls outside a siren call that pulled at her core. The dawn light filtered through the curtains, Lila stared at the ceiling, her resolve fracturing: one more day, just survive. But deep down, the seed planted yesterday had sprouted, a dark bloom of curiosity and craving she couldn't yet name, binding her to this place tighter than any knot.
Eyes fixated on the spiderwebbing cracks in the ceiling, fixating so that she didn't have to contend with anything else just yet, she thought back to the farm house kitchen of her childhood—it has the same cracked ceiling, the kitchen where her father drunkenly lobbed an empty whiskey bottle at the fridge when the final foreclosure letter came through, the one that sent her ducking for cover and then running out the back door, her father's tirade to noone overwhelmed by the cicada's din, the last time she'd felt so small—no, not the last time, she'd felt that way ever since, every dead end job, every loser boyfriend, every late payment notice, she'd felt small. And with a hitch in her breath, she suddenly realized that, whatever else she felt right now, she didn't feel small any more.
The morning sun slanted through the thin curtains, painting stripes across the wooden floor, and Lila stirred, her body a symphony of aches—muscles sore from holding positions, skin tender from scratches and grips, her pussy and ass throbbing with a dull reminder of the stretches they'd endured. She sat up slowly, the quilt pooling around her waist, exposing her freckled breasts, nipples stiffening in the cool air. The mirror on the dresser caught her eye: her green eyes looked haunted, shadows beneath them, auburn hair tangled from tossing in sweat-dampened sheets. What have I done? The question echoed, but the answer was buried under necessity—and that insidious pull, the way her clit tingled even now, remembering the rough tongues, the unrelenting thrusts.
Downstairs, the clatter of pans drew her, the smell of bacon and coffee wafting up, grounding her in the mundane. She dressed in fresh clothes from her bag—another plain t-shirt, jeans that now felt constricting against her sensitive skin—and descended the creaky stairs. Carl was at the stove, his back to her, broad shoulders straining his flannel shirt, the same stained overalls from yesterday. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes raking her form habitually. "Mornin'. Eat. The boys are waitin'—got a full roster today, and you're the star."
Lila nodded mutely, sliding into the chair. Her muscles ached from the previous day's exertions, a dull throb in her core reminding her of every thrust, every knot that had stretched her limits. She forced down the food, the eggs tasting like ash on her tongue, her mind replaying Carl's words from the night before. A rush. Was that what she'd felt? Buried under the shame, yes, there had been moments—when Bruno's weight pinned her, when her body clenched around that swelling knot—where repulsion twisted into a raw, electric thrill. But she pushed the thought away, focusing on the practical: the pay hitting her account soon, enough to chip at her debts, to breathe a little easier. It's just survival. Get through the day, collect the pay, find a way out.
Carl finished his plate first, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing. "We'll start with the basics again—feeding, cleaning. But after that, back to the room. The studs need their relief, and you're the one providing it today." His tone was casual, like he was assigning chores, but the glint in his eye made Lila's stomach flip, repulsion mingling with an unwelcome anticipation.. She followed him out to the barn, the morning air crisp, carrying the sharp bite of animal scents that now felt almost familiar. The dogs barked louder as they approached, tails wagging, eyes fixed on her with that same hungry intensity from yesterday.
Feeding went quickly, her hands steadier now as she portioned out kibble into bowls, hosing down runs while avoiding the playful nips and jumps. Carl worked alongside her, his presence a constant pressure, but he didn't touch her—not yet. By mid-morning, the chores were done, and he led her back to the dim servicing room, the concrete floor cold under her boots. "Strip," he said simply, flipping on the overhead light that buzzed like an angry hornet. Lila hesitated, her fingers hovering at her shirt hem, the memory of yesterday's vulnerability crashing over her. But the door was shut, the world outside forgotten, and she peeled off her clothes layer by layer, folding them neatly on a shelf as if order could combat the chaos inside her.
Naked, she knelt on the mat, skin prickling in the draft. Carl nodded approval before opening the side door. In came Max, the Golden Retriever from her first day, his coat shining like burnished gold, tail whipping the air. He bounded straight to her, nose diving between her legs, but Carl yanked his collar. "Not there, boy. We're doing things different today. Keeps 'em versatile." He positioned Lila on all fours, ass up, face pressed to the mat. Her heart hammered—different how? But she didn't ask, didn't dare, as Max mounted her from behind, his paws scratching lightly at her sides.
The dog's cock prodded at her pussy first, slick and insistent, but Carl intervened, guiding it higher with a gloved hand. "Aim here," he muttered, pressing the tip against her asshole. Lila's eyes widened, a gasp escaping her lips. "Wait, no—that's not—" But Max thrust forward, the pointed head breaching her tight ring with a burning stretch that made her cry out. It was wrong, invasive, the wrong hole entirely, but the dog didn't care, humping with feral urgency, sinking deeper into her ass inch by veiny inch. The pain was sharp, like fire ripping through her, her muscles clenching instinctively against the intrusion. Oh god, it hurts, she thought, tears welling, her fingers digging into the mat as if to anchor herself.
Carl watched impassively at first, then stepped in to hold her hips steady. "Relax, girl. Fight it and it'll tear. Breathe through it." His voice was rough, but there was an undercurrent of excitement, his breath quicker. Max's thrusts picked up, the shaft sliding easier now with the dog's natural slickness, pounding her ass with short, brutal jabs. Lila whimpered, the burn fading into a strange fullness, her body adjusting against her will. Repulsion flooded her—this was filthier than yesterday, more degrading, her ass violated by an animal's cock. Yet as the rhythm built, that treacherous heat sparked again, her pussy clenching empty, dripping onto the mat below.
Max's knot began to swell, bumping against her stretched ring with each thrust. Lila panicked— No, not there, it'll rip me apart—but the dog was relentless, pushing harder, the bulbous base forcing its way in with a pop that made her scream. Locked now, knotted in her ass, the pressure immense, like she was being split from the inside. Max ground against her, his body shuddering as hot cum flooded her bowels, thick and unending, the warmth spreading deep. The knot tied them, stretching her impossibly, minutes ticking by in agonizing ecstasy. Lila's mind fractured: disgust at the anal knotting, the surprise violation that deepened her shame, but her clit throbbed untouched, her hips rocking back subtly, chasing a release she didn't want. When the knot finally deflated, Max pulled free with a wet slurp, cum leaking from her gaped ass, dribbling down her thighs in sticky rivulets.
She collapsed, gasping, the afterburn lingering like a brand. Carl patted Max out, then turned to her. "Accident, that knotting, they rut so quick sometimes you can't control 'em. But you took it like a champ." His words hung heavy, and Lila felt something in her soul shift—her anus clenching reflexively around nothing. It was wrong, so wrong, but she'd endured it, survived the surprise, and part of her wondered what more she could take.
Lila lay there on the mat for a moment longer, her body a map of aches and sticky residues, the cool air of the room doing little to soothe the fire in her stretched ass. The cum leaked out in slow, warm trickles, pooling beneath her hips, and she could feel the gape, the way her hole hadn't quite closed yet, twitching with every breath. Disgust roiled in her stomach like bad whiskey, burning up her throat—she was filthy, used, no better than the bitches in heat out in the runs. But woven through that nausea was a thread of something sharper, a pulse in her clit that demanded attention, her pussy clenching around nothing as if jealous of the violation above. She pushed herself up on shaky arms, avoiding Carl's eyes, grabbing the towel to wipe away the evidence, though it smeared more than cleaned, leaving her skin tacky.
Carl didn't give her time to wallow. He was already at the door, whistling sharp for the next one. "Up you get, girl. Can't slack now. Rex is next—remember him? The Shepherd. He's been pacing since dawn, smelled you on the wind." His voice carried that same gravelly command, but there was a hunger in it now, like he was feeding off her degradation as much as the dogs were. Lila stood, legs wobbling, her naked body on full display—breasts heaving with each ragged breath, nipples stiff from the chill and the unwanted arousal. She nodded, not trusting her voice, as Rex bounded in, his black-and-tan fur bristling with excitement, those sharp eyes locking onto her like prey.
The dog didn't waste time; he circled her once, snout shoving between her thighs, lapping at the remnants of Max's cum with broad, possessive strokes. Lila gasped, the roughness of his tongue scraping over her sensitive folds, sending jolts straight to her core. It was too much, too soon—her ass still burned, but her pussy wept fresh slick, betraying her again. Repulsion clawed at her mind: This is sick, I'm sick for letting it happen. But her hips canted forward just a fraction, chasing the friction before she could stop herself. Carl chuckled low, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "See? Body knows what it wants, even if your head's fighting it. Get on your knees, mouth first. Warm him up."
She dropped down, the mat biting into her knees, and Rex presented himself immediately, his red cock sliding from its sheath, already dripping. The scent hit her—musky, primal, thicker than yesterday—and she hesitated, lips parting but not committing. Carl's boot nudged her back. "Open up. No teasing." Lila leaned in, taking the tip past her lips, the salty tang exploding on her tongue as she sucked tentatively. Rex whined, thrusting shallowly, his hips jerking with impatience. She hollowed her cheeks, tongue swirling around the veiny length, taking more until the tapered head bumped her throat. Gagging softly, she pulled back, strings of saliva connecting her to him, but she went again, deeper, her head bobbing in rhythm. The dog's paws scratched at the floor, his body tensing, and she could feel the knot swelling at the base, hot and insistent against her palm as she stroked it.
"Good," Carl murmured, his voice thicker now, hand adjusting the growing bulge in his overalls. "Now flip over. Let him have the rest." Lila pulled off with a wet pop, coughing as she turned onto her back, legs spreading wide in a pose that made her cheeks flame with shame. Rex mounted her chest first, cock jabbing at her tits, leaving slick trails across her skin before Carl guided him lower. The dog thrust into her pussy with one forceful shove, the stretch familiar now, filling her completely. She cried out, the intrusion reigniting the ache from yesterday, but her walls clenched greedily, milking him as he rutted with wild abandon. Each slap of fur against skin echoed, wet and obscene, her breasts bouncing with the force. Repulsion surged—I'm just a hole for them, a toy—but the friction built that coil in her belly, tight and demanding, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts.
Rex's knot pressed in, swelling, and this time she didn't fight it; her body remembered, stretching to accommodate as it popped inside with a suck that made her arch off the mat. Tied again, the pressure immense, his cock pulsing hot spurts deep into her womb. Lila's hands fisted in the mat, moans escaping unbidden as her own climax ripped through her, unwanted but shattering, her pussy spasming around the knot. Minutes dragged, the dog panting above her, his weight a cage she couldn't escape. When he finally tugged free, cum gushed out, soaking her thighs, and she lay there, spent, staring at the ceiling beams blurred through tears.
Carl sent Rex out with a sharp whistle, the Shepherd trotting away contentedly, his tail swaying as if he'd just claimed a prize bitch. Lila remained sprawled on the mat, her body a canvas of exhaustion—thighs slick with the dog's copious release, the warm fluid cooling in sticky trails that pooled beneath her, mingling with her own treacherous juices. The air hung heavy with the primal reek of sex, musky and thick, clinging to her skin like a second layer, while the distant barks from the runs echoed like mocking applause. Her pussy throbbed, walls still fluttering from the unwanted orgasm, a hollow ache where the knot had stretched her wide, now clenching around nothing but the phantom fullness that haunted her thoughts. Tears streaked her freckled cheeks, hot and salty, blurring the rough-hewn beams above into watery shadows, each sob wracking her small frame as repulsion clawed at her gut—this wasn't her, not the girl who'd dreamed of escaping the farm's ruins for something better, yet here she was, reduced to a vessel for animal lust.
He didn't let her linger in that haze of self-loathing. Carl's boots thudded closer, the sound heavy and deliberate, his shadow falling over her like a cage. "Get up, girl. Spike's next—the Terrier mix, remember? Feisty little bastard, but he'll be quick." His voice rumbled low, laced with that same gravelly hunger she'd heard all morning, his eyes raking over her naked form, lingering on the cum-smeared mess between her legs, the way her nipples stood stiff from the chill and lingering arousal. Lila pushed herself up on trembling arms, muscles screaming in protest, her knees wobbling as she rose, the mat's rough texture biting into her palms like tiny accusations. She wiped at her thighs futilely, the seed smearing further, tacky and insistent, a reminder that her body had betrayed her again, clenching greedily around Rex's invading shaft until she'd shattered in shameful ecstasy. Carl's hand brushed her ass as he guided her to the low padded bench, the touch possessive, sending a shiver up her spine that she hated—part revulsion, part unwelcome spark.
"Bend over it," he ordered, his breath quicker now, the bulge in his overalls straining as he adjusted himself shamelessly. Lila complied, draping her torso over the bench, ass presented high, the position exposing her fully—pussy lips puffy and glistening, still leaking Rex's load in slow dribbles that trickled down her inner thighs, her asshole twitching from the earlier violation. The leather pressed cold against her breasts, nipples scraping with each ragged breath, while the room's draft whispered over her skin, raising goosebumps that did nothing to quell the heat building anew in her core. Spike burst in yipping, his wiry frame vibrating with energy, mismatched fur bristling as he scrambled up behind her, paws scratching lightly at her calves before mounting, his small but rigid cock prodding frantically at her slick entrance. She gasped as he found his mark, slamming in with rapid, erratic thrusts that jolted her forward, the speed blurring the line between pain and that insidious friction, her walls clenching despite the ache.
The Terrier's rut was frantic, a blur of short, brutal jabs that filled the room with wet slaps, his furry balls smacking against her clit with each hump, sending unwelcome jolts straight to her throbbing nub. Lila bit her lip, stifling a whimper—disgust roiled fresh, this endless parade reducing her to meat, yet her hips rocked back subtly, chasing the building pressure, her pussy milking the veiny shaft as if starved for it. Spike's knot swelled smaller than the others, bumping her lips insistently before slipping inside with minimal resistance, locking them briefly as he unloaded in hot, pulsing spurts that mixed with Rex's remnants, the warmth spreading deep. She felt every twitch, the tie short but intense, her body grinding against the bench for friction, clit pulsing until a small climax rippled through her, hated and hushed, her inner muscles spasming around the bulge until he tugged free with a dribble of seed.
Numbness crept in as Carl patted Spike away, the cumulative toll weighing on her—holes tender, skin marked with scratches and bruises from paws and grips, the constant leak of fluids leaving her thighs perpetually slick. Yet beneath the exhaustion, a dull throb persisted, her clit demanding more despite the mental screams of wrongness, her mind fracturing further with each mount. "Three more before lunch," Carl announced casually, as if tallying chores, his hand lingering on her hip, thumb tracing a welt that made her flinch. The next was a chocolate Lab, bounding in with eager pants, his tongue lolling as Carl positioned her on her back, legs spread wide on the mat. The dog dove straight for her mouth, cock emerging slick and insistent, prodding at her lips until she parted them reluctantly, the salty tang exploding on her tongue as she sucked, hollowing her cheeks while gagging on the length, saliva mixing with pre-cum in messy drools down her chin.
The Lab thrust shallowly into her throat, paws on her shoulders pinning her, while Carl watched with hooded eyes, his own arousal evident in the way he palmed his bulge. Lila's hands fisted the mat, repulsion surging at the degradation—swallowing an animal's cock like a whore—but she bobbed her head, tongue swirling the veiny underside until the knot bumped her lips, too thick to enter, and he flooded her mouth with thick ropes she swallowed convulsively, the excess spilling over her cheeks and neck, warm and bitter. No sooner had he dismounted than a scruffy mutt was brought in, Carl flipping her onto her stomach for anal again, the dog's cock guided to her ass, breaching the tight ring with a burn that tore a cry from her, the stretch invasive and filthy, yet her pussy dripped jealous below, clenching empty as he rutted deep.
The mutt's thrusts were uneven, pounding her ass with feral urgency, claws digging into her sides as the knot swelled, forcing its way in with a pop that made her scream, locking them ass-to-ass as cum erupted hot into her bowels, the pressure immense and bloating. Minutes dragged in the tie, her body rocking subtly, chasing release until she came again, fingers sneaking to her clit for frantic rubs that shattered her in waves, shame burning hotter than the fluids filling her. When freed, she rolled over gasping, but Carl hauled her up for the Bulldog, positioning her reverse on the bench, making her straddle the stocky beast, guiding his thick cock into her pussy as she lowered, the girth splitting her wide, walls gripping greedily despite the soreness.
She ground down, hips rolling in reluctant rhythm, the Bulldog's stubby legs kicking as he humped up into her, knot swelling to lock with a suck that trapped her, his cum pulsing in endless spurts while she rode through two shattering orgasms, moans escaping unbidden, her breasts bouncing wildly, nipples aching for touch she denied herself. The tie held long, her mind a haze of conflicting fires—disgust at the parade, the way her body adapted, craved the fullness—but as it deflated and she dismounted, leaking anew, a strange numbness settled, the shame muting under layers of exhaustion and that buried thrill. Carl's praise came gruff, "You're a natural," his hand squeezing her ass as she dressed shakily, the words twisting like a knot in her soul, hinting at the shift she feared.
The afternoon blurred into more of the same—dogs mounting her in every position, every hole, knots tying her over and over until she lost count of the loads filling her, leaking from her pussy and ass in constant streams. By evening, her body was a wreck of bruises and fluids, but something had shifted; the shame was still there, but muted, overlaid with a strange empowerment. She'd survived the day, taken them all, and as Carl led her back to the house for dinner, she caught herself glancing at the runs, wondering which one would be first tomorrow.
That night, in the shower, hot water cascaded over her sore skin, washing away the day's evidence but not the memories. Her fingers drifted between her legs, circling her swollen clit as flashes replayed—knots swelling, hot cum flooding her, the weight of furred bodies pinning her down. She came hard, biting her lip to stifle the moan, then collapsed into bed, dreams once again twisting her into a willing participant, begging for more.
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