Exposure

The Craigslist ad: “Art photography – female subjects. Exploring vulnerability through restraint. $500/2 hours. Female photographer. Safe environment.”

I needed the money.

The house was suburban perfect. She answered – mid-forties, expensive camera, designer clothes. Everything screamed “bored artist with husband’s money.”

“You’re perfect,” she said, circling me. “Petite. Delicate. That contrast between innocence and…” She didn’t finish.

Her eyes lingered on my body in a way that wasn’t quite sexual but wasn’t clinical either. Like she was seeing through my thrift store dress to what lay beneath. Calculating something.

Her studio was professional. Lights, backdrop, padded platform center stage. Everything clean, expensive, deliberate.

“I’ll need you nude. It’s about vulnerability, not sexuality.” Her smile seemed practiced. “The blindfold and ropes create visual tension. You understand.”

I understood $500.

My hands shook as I undressed. She watched with that same calculating gaze, making small appreciative noises. “Your proportions are ideal. That petite frame but then…” She gestured at my hips, my ass. “Unexpected curves. The camera will love the contrast.”

Standing naked in the bright lights, I fought the urge to cover myself. 5’2″, maybe 110 pounds, pale skin that had never seen a tanning bed. My breasts were small but perky, pink nipples already hardening from the air conditioning. Or nerves. Between my legs, I kept myself trimmed but not bare – auburn curls matching my pixie cut. But it was my ass that always surprised people – full and round on my petite frame, the kind that made men stare. Heart-shaped and perfect for gripping.

“Lie face down.” Her hands were clinical as she positioned me. “Arms stretched forward – yes, hold the far edge. See how that arches your back? Lifts your ass? Beautiful.”

She was right. The position made my back arch dramatically, pushing my ass up invitingly. My small tits pressed against the padding, nipples dragging against the fabric with each breath.

“Spread your legs. Wider. Feet on the floor, knees apart.”

The spread revealed everything from behind. Cool air hit places that should be private. Don’t think about how you look. Don’t think about being splayed like an animal presenting itself. But warmth was already gathering between my legs.

“Perfect. You’re built for this.” Her voice carried something knowing. “Some women just are, you know. Can tell by how naturally they fall into position.”

The rope was soft, professional. She took her time with each knot. Wrists secured to the far edge of the platform, arms stretched taut. The position pulled my chest down further, made my back arch more dramatically. Then my ankles – tied to the platform legs, keeping me spread.

This is just a job. Professional. Artistic. But my body was responding to the restraints, to the vulnerability. Slickness gathering where it shouldn’t.

“Your body tells a story. That surprising ass for such a petite frame – pushed up so invitingly. And your pussy…” Click. “Already glistening. Interesting.”

Shame flooded through me. She can see. Can see how wet I am just from being tied. My pussy clenched involuntarily, probably making it worse.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said softly. “It’s natural. The position, the restraints… your body knows things your mind hasn’t accepted yet.”

The blindfold came last. Expensive silk blocking everything but sensation. The darkness made every nerve ending hypersensitive. Every breath of air across my exposed flesh. Every place where rope touched skin. Every shameful throb between my legs.

“Push your ass higher. Perfect. The arch of your back…” Click. Click. “The light catches your wetness beautifully. Like morning dew.”

More positioning. Her fingers adjusting, never lingering but leaving trails of awareness. Professional. This is professional. But my hips wanted to push back into her touch. Wanted… something.

“I need to change lenses. Don’t move.”

Footsteps. Door closing. Silence.

Time stretched. The position began to ache – muscles straining to maintain the arch. But worse was the awareness. How my pussy was completely exposed from behind. How anyone walking in would see a small pale woman bent over and tied like… Don’t think it. Like prey.

The wetness was definitely visible now. I could feel it cooling on my inner thighs. What’s wrong with me?

Then – claws on hardwood.

My whole body went rigid. A dog. There’s a dog in here. The clicking came closer. Not small paws. Something large.

The sound stopped near me. Heavy breathing. Big dog breathing. So close I could feel the hot huffs on my exposed skin.

This isn’t happening. She wouldn’t. This is just…

But my body was already responding. Nipples drawing achingly tight against the platform. Between my splayed thighs, a fresh flood of arousal. No. No, this is sick. This is wrong.

“Hello?” My voice cracked. “Is someone there?”

A wet nose touched my ankle.

The shock of it made me jerk against the restraints. Cold. Wet. Investigating. The nose traveled up my calf, sniffing. Learning. By the time it reached my knee, my breathing had gone shallow.

He’s going to smell it. Going to smell how wet I am.

At my inner thigh, right where leg meets body, he paused. His breathing changed – excited. Eager. He knows. Oh god, he knows.

“No,” I whispered. “Please…”

His tongue unfurled.

“FUCK!”

The first lick along my inner thigh made my whole body clench. Nothing like human – rougher, wider, hotter. Like wet sandpaper but somehow perfect. He licked again, higher. Following the trail of slickness that had leaked down.

This is wrong. So wrong. I should be screaming. Should be begging for help. But my hips were already tilting. Some deep instinct taking over. Presenting.

He found the source.

When his tongue dragged through my folds, my mind went white. The texture, the heat, the eager way he lapped – like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He pushed deeper, that long tongue spreading me open, reaching places that made me see stars.

“Oh god,” I moaned. Couldn’t help it. “Oh god, what are you…”

I’m letting a dog lick my cunt. I’m LIKING it. The shame mixed with pleasure into something intoxicating. The ropes kept me from escaping, from stopping this. Had to just take it. Had to let him…

He found my clit.

The rough texture against that sensitive bundle sent lightning through my body. He seemed to understand this was important – focused there with eager, rhythmic licks that made my thighs shake uncontrollably.

“No no no,” I chanted, but my hips were grinding against his muzzle. Can’t come from this. Won’t. I’m not an animal. I’m not… But the orgasm was building anyway. That familiar coil tightening. Using his face. Riding his tongue.

So close. So close. No no no yes yes please…

“Stop,” I begged. “I can’t… not from…”

Click.

The camera. She was back. Watching. Documenting.

“Already?” Soft surprise in her voice. “Most take longer.”

“Please,” I sobbed. But I didn’t stop grinding.

The words pushed me over. I shattered. My cunt clenched on nothing, desperately empty but climaxing anyway. Waves of pleasure made more intense by the shame, the restraints, the sheer wrongness of coming from an animal’s tongue.

Click.

He pulled away.

“NO!”

The whimper that escaped me was pure need. Did I just… did I want him to continue?

Click.

Before I could process, weight landed on my back. Massive weight. Fur against my skin. Paws on either side of me, claws pricking through padding.

This is really happening. I’m about to be… He’s going to…

“Wait,” I gasped. The word torn from me. “Please wait…”

His hips shifted, searching. Something hot and wet brushed my ass. His cock. Different. Pointed. Already dripping. It slid across my cheeks, leaving burning trails of precum. Searching. Missing. Adjusting.

“Oh god oh god oh god…”

Last chance. Say something. Stop this. But my throat was closed. My body frozen between terror and anticipation.

“Tell him what you are,” she commanded. “Say it or I’ll have him stop.”

The tip found my entrance.

We both stilled. Him recognizing target. Me recognizing the point of no return. My pussy, traitor that it was, clenched and released. Inviting. Dripping fresh arousal.

“Say it!”

“His bitch,” I whispered. Last words as a human. “I’m his bitch.”

He thrust.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The stretch was immediate. Different than human – starting narrow but swelling thicker as he pushed in. The angle was different too, hitting places that had never been touched. Too much. Too different. Too good.

He bottomed out and immediately started fucking. No adjustment. No care for my comfort. Just pure instinct driving him to rut. The pace was brutal – faster than any human, deeper, more primal. Each thrust punched the air from my lungs.

I’m being fucked by a dog. I’m taking dog cock. And I… I…

“Fuck,” I sobbed. “So deep. Why does it…”

My cunt was clenching around him. Pulling him deeper. My hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. That shameful part of me that was made for this finally awakening.

Something was changing at the base of his cock. A swelling that bumped against my entrance with each thrust. Getting bigger. Catching more.

“What is…” But I knew. His knot. Dogs have… Oh god, he’s going to…

The swelling grew with each thrust. Stretching my entrance wider. The burn of it mixing with pleasure. My body opening, preparing, wanting what my mind knew would ruin me.

If he knots me, I’ll never be the same. I’ll need… I’ll crave…

“Can’t… too big…”

But I was already angling my hips. Helping. When the knot pressed hard against my entrance, impossibly large, I pushed back desperately.

“Please!”

Please stop? Please continue? I don’t even know anymore.

Click. “The moment of surrender. Beautiful.”

The knot slammed against my entrance. Too big. Impossibly big. But my body was trying to take it, stretching, opening. He kept fucking, desperate now, each thrust trying to force that swelling inside.

I felt the moment he started to come – his cock pulsing, hot spurts flooding me even as the knot battered my entrance. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. His instincts demanding he lock inside before he finished.

“Beg for it,” she commanded. “Beg for his knot or he’ll pull out.”

“Knot me!”

The words tore from my throat. Raw. Desperate. My first admission aloud.

“Louder. Like you mean it.”

“KNOT ME! Please! Make me yours! Lock it inside!”

My body showed the rest – hips tilting, pushing back, legs spreading wider. Everything in me trying to help that massive swelling inside. Needing to be locked. Claimed. Bred.

He slammed forward with final desperation. The knot forced inside with an obscene pop just as the full force of his orgasm hit.

“FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!”

The fullness was overwhelming. But worse – or better – was feeling it swell larger AFTER it was inside. Each pulse of cum making the knot bigger. Locking us tighter. His cock jumped with every heartbeat, a living thing inside me.

“Oh my god…”

Hot. So much hotter than human. And so much of it. But this wasn’t like human orgasm – quick and done. This was endless. Biological. Pulse after pulse after pulse flooding my womb while the knot kept every drop inside.

Breeding me. Still coming. Why is he still…

But he was. Would be. That’s what dogs do. They come for minutes, not seconds. His cock jerked with each heartbeat – jump, pulse, pump. Jump, pulse, pump. A rhythm that would continue long after human biology would have stopped.

Twenty minutes. Sometimes thirty. The dog panted above me, content to wait. His biology ensuring every drop went where it needed to. His knot my prison and my purpose.

“Such a swollen belly,” she observed quietly. Click. “Bigger than the others got.”

Others. Of course there had been others. The shame burned hotter knowing I wasn’t special, just easier.

Whimpers escaped me. Broken sounds. Sometimes a sobbed “Your bitch” but mostly just animal noises from a broken animal.

My belly was visibly distended now. Pregnant with his seed. When I shifted against the restraints, I could feel it sloshing inside, trapped by the massive knot. His cock jumped again – pulse, pump. More cum. Always more.

“I remember my first time.”

Her voice cut through my haze.

“The exact moment I stopped being human. When I realized I’d never want human cock again. Never be satisfied without a knot. You’re there now, aren’t you?”

Click.

Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Still locked. Still filling me. The dog panted above me, content to wait. His biology ensuring every drop went where it needed to. His knot my prison and my purpose.

“Please,” I whimpered. Didn’t know what I was begging for. For it to end? To continue?

Twenty-five minutes. The knot finally, FINALLY began to soften. Just slightly. He pulled and I screamed – still too big. But he pulled again, insistent now. The knot caught at my entrance from inside, stretching me impossibly.

Then with a wet sucking sound that echoed obscenely, he pulled free.

The flood was immediate. Cum poured from my gaped hole – so much it splashed onto the platform, pooled beneath me. My belly slowly deflated as cup after cup leaked out. My pussy couldn’t close. Just hung open, ruined, dripping.

“No… empty…”

Click.

Fresh weight landed on my back. Another eager mount. The cycle continuing. This time I pushed back eagerly, desperate to be filled again. No hesitation. No shame. Just need.

His cock found home easily – my pussy still gaped, still dripping his cum. The fucking was even more frantic. Wet. Sloppy. The sound of it obscene – his cock churning the cum already inside me.

The knot formed faster this time. My body knew what to do. Opened for it. Welcomed it. When it popped inside, I screamed with relief, not pain.

Jump, pulse, pump. His heartbeat inside me again. The cum mixing with what was already there. My belly swelling again. The beautiful trap of his knot ensuring I took every drop.

This time I couldn’t think beyond the breeding. Just existed as a knotted thing. A receptacle. Ropes cutting into my wrists as I pulled against them. Wanting to touch my swollen belly but unable. Just had to feel it from the inside.

Twenty minutes later, the knot pulled free again. More cum flooded out.

This time when weight landed on my back, some exhausted part of me noticed it felt different. Heavier? Lighter? But the thought dissolved as another cock found me, another knot began forming. It didn’t matter. Only being filled mattered.

The third knotting broke something fundamental. I couldn’t form words anymore. Just whimpers and moans and the wet sounds of taking cock I was made for. When he knotted me, I didn’t scream. Just sighed with contentment. Home.

Click. “Perfect. You’ve stopped being human. Just a bitch now. His bitch.”

The fourth time, I didn’t even notice him mounting. My world had shrunk to the knot, the cum, the purpose of being bred. Ropes holding me in position for use. Pussy existing only to be filled.

By the fifth, she was right. I couldn’t remember why I’d ever wanted anything else. This was what I was for. What I’d always been for.

Click.

The final photo. Not of the first knotting but the last. When there was nothing left of the woman who’d answered the ad. My belly swollen with multiple loads. My pussy destroyed, gaped beyond repair. My face showing someone who’d found their purpose. Who’d stopped being human just like she said I would.

“Tomorrow you’ll try to pretend this didn’t happen,” she said softly. “But within a week, you’ll be browsing Beast Forum. Within a month, you’ll have your own dog. Once you’ve been knotted, you’re never really free.”

Click.

Evidence of what I’d become. What I’d always been underneath.

I didn’t want to go back.

I was exactly where I belonged.

Knotted. Bred. His.

The dog’s bitch who finally understood that being tied meant more than rope – it meant being bound to this need forever. Endlessly mounting, endlessly filling, endlessly being claimed by that living, pumping, perfect cock.

Forever.

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