The basement door clicked shut behind her.
Sarah’s bare feet found carpet – industrial grade, the kind that could be shampooed repeatedly. It scratched against her soles, too clean, like evidence kept getting washed away. The air tasted thick. Dog smell layered with something else. Something that made her nipples tighten into painful points before she’d even seen him.
Zeus.
Ninety pounds of Rottweiler watching from a bed in the corner. Not moving yet. Just watching with dark, intelligent eyes that seemed to see through her sundress to the naked desperation beneath.
Mark moved past her. His cologne mixed with the basement’s musk – sharp citrus over animal heat. The combination made her pussy clench.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
The words were casual but her body heard command. Her fingers found the hem of her dress, trembling. The fabric whispered against her skin as she lifted it. Cool air hit her belly, her breasts, making her gasp. When it cleared her head, she was naked. Exposed. Her nipples so hard they ached.
Zeus’s tail thumped once. Interest.
She couldn’t look at Mark but felt him settle into a chair behind her. Leather creaking. The sound shot straight to her clit.
Zeus rose. Stretched languorously, muscles rippling under black and tan fur. Each movement deliberate. Controlled. He padded toward her with measured steps that made her heart race faster with each click of nails on concrete.
Close now. So close she could feel his breath on her thigh. Hot. Alive. Her legs trembled, wanting to close, to run, to spread wider. She did nothing. Stood frozen as his nose touched her skin.
Cold. Wet. Shocking against the fever of her inner thigh. She gasped, legs trying to close instinctively.
“Ah.”
Just a sound from Mark. Not even a word. But her body obeyed, legs spreading wider instead. Presenting. Offering what Zeus was seeking.
The first touch of tongue made her cry out. Rough texture dragging through her folds, gathering the wetness that had been building since she’d woken up. Since she’d showered three times. Since she’d driven here with her pussy pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
Her hands fluttered up, wanting to push him away or pull him closer or touch herself or-
A finger snap. Sharp. Commanding.
Her hands dropped to her sides. She didn’t decide to lower them. They just fell, obedient to a sound. Later she’d wonder why. Now there was only the tongue returning, more confident, pushing between her lips to taste directly from the source.
Zeus was thorough. Learning her. The flat of his tongue covered so much more than a human’s would. When it pushed inside her, seeking more of her taste, her knees buckled. Only pride kept her upright. Pride and the knowledge that Mark was watching. Cataloguing. Judging.
The tongue withdrew. Returned. A rhythm that made her hips want to rock. She fought it, staying still, just receiving. But her pussy had its own ideas – clenching, releasing, trying to capture that invasive pressure. She could hear how wet she was. Obscene liquid sounds that filled the basement.
Movement behind her. Mark shifting. Fabric rustling. A zipper? Her pussy flooded at the sound, fresh wetness coating her already slick thighs.
Zeus pulled back. Licked his chops. Looked at her with those intelligent eyes like he knew exactly what she was. What she needed.
The bench waited in the center of the room. Custom-built. The leather worn in specific places that made her stomach flip. How many others had knelt here? How many knees had worn those grooves?
She crawled to it on shaking legs. Each step made her swollen pussy lips slide together, sensitive and slick. The position felt like surrender – belly against leather, knees spread in those telltale grooves, ass raised. Everything exposed. Presented. Ready.
Zeus circled immediately. His energy different now. Focused. Predatory. But he didn’t mount. Just circled. Sniffed. His nose cold against her dripping pussy, making her clench. Then pulling away. Circling more.
“Please,” she whispered. To Zeus. To Mark. To the universe that had brought her to this moment.
More circling. She could feel his heat each time he passed. Could smell his arousal mixing with hers. But still he didn’t mount. Just investigated. Teased. Made her wait while her pussy dripped steadily onto leather that had absorbed this before.
A whimper escaped her throat. Needy. Desperate.
A hand gesture she caught in peripheral vision. Subtle. Practiced.
Zeus mounted.
The weight drove every thought from her mind. Heavier than imagination had prepared her for. Solid muscle and intent pinning her to the bench. His chest pressed against her back, fur coarse through her fever sweat. She could feel his heart beating. Fast. Excited.
His forelegs locked around her waist. The grip was bruising – not claws exactly, but pressure that would leave marks. She’d seen them in the shower later. Four perfect bruises on each side where he claimed her.
His breath was hot in her ear. Panting already. She could smell him properly now – wild, musky, fundamentally male. Her body recognized it at some cellular level. Opened for it.
Then she felt his cock emerging.
The first touch made her whole body jerk. Burning hot – hotter than human, her body registered the difference immediately. Wet with precum that dripped onto her thigh. So much precum. And hard. Not flesh-hard but something rigid inside. She didn’t understand yet but her pussy seemed to, clenching with recognition.
He was thrusting already but not finding the angle. The pointed tip stabbed at her ass, making her clench. Slid across her inner thigh leaving a trail of heat. So close to where she needed it but-
The angle was wrong. Of course. She wasn’t built like a female dog. Her pussy was tilted different, positioned different. She tried to adjust, spreading her knees wider on the bench, tilting her hips, but-
“Oh god, please-“
Another miss. Another. His thrusts getting more frantic. The teasing almost worse than penetration would be. Her pussy was gaping, clenching on nothing, trying to guide him home. She reached back desperately, fingers searching for his cock to help-
Another hand intercepted hers.
Mark’s fingers brushed against her fumbling ones. Larger. Steady. Sure. He didn’t ask. Didn’t speak. Just wrapped his hand around Zeus’s sheath with the confidence of experience. His knuckles grazed her pussy lips – accident? The touch sent lightning through her clit.
He angled Zeus’s cock with practiced ease. Not the angle she would have chosen. Deeper. More direct. His thumb pressed against her entrance for just a moment – checking, measuring – then guided Zeus’s tip exactly there.
Zeus knew. Drove forward with singular purpose.
The penetration split her consciousness. The pointed tip speared through her entrance easily but then came the width. Different than human. Wider in different places. And the hardness – god, the hardness. Like being fucked by warm stone. No give, no flexibility. Her pussy had to do all the yielding, all the conforming to this rigid intrusion.
She felt it deep inside – that unyielding bone keeping him perfectly straight as he pushed deeper. Her body rearranging itself around him because he couldn’t bend, couldn’t adjust. Only she could. Only she did.
Mark’s hand stayed in place. Ensuring Zeus buried himself completely. No shallow entry. No mercy. Full penetration that reached places inside her that had never been touched. She felt the tip brush her cervix and screamed.
His other hand gathered her hair. Not pulling. Controlling. Turning her head until she saw the mirror. Her own face shocked her – eyes wide, mouth already open, drool starting. Behind her, Mark. His phone raised. His other hand—god, was it on his cock? The angle suggested—
Then Zeus started fucking properly.
The pace was violence. Nothing human about it. No build-up, no rhythm she could follow. Just brutal thrusts that used her pussy like it was designed for this. Each impact rocked her forward, only Zeus’s grip keeping her from being shoved off the bench entirely.
She tried to participate. To rock back, to find a rhythm. Impossible. She could only take what was given. Her body jostled like a doll’s, breasts swaying, ass rippling with each impact. In the mirror, she watched herself getting fucked. Really fucked. Mated.
The sounds were obscene. Wet squelching. The slap of Zeus’s furry balls against her clit. Her own noises – grunts and whimpers and sounds that weren’t words anymore. Mark’s breathing getting heavier behind her.
Something was changing. With each thrust, something at the base was catching at her entrance. Not much at first. Just a fullness that tugged when he pulled back. But it was growing. Swelling. Each thrust made it bigger.
“Wait-” Her eyes went wide in the mirror. “Something’s-“
Mark’s hand pressed against her lower back. Firm. Holding her in place. Not letting her pull away as the swelling increased. As what had been manageable became uncomfortable became impossible became-
Zeus gave a final, brutal thrust. The knot popped past her entrance and swelled to full size in seconds.
Sarah’s vision went white. The fullness was beyond description. Not just stretching but pressure in every direction. Against her g-spot. Her cervix. Places that had no names. She thrashed, trying to escape, but Mark’s hand kept her pinned and the knot itself locked her to Zeus completely.
And then—
Oh.
Oh.
Something deeper than orgasm, deeper than pleasure, deeper than thought itself shifted inside her. Every cell in her body recognized this feeling. Had been waiting for it. Built for it. The knot wasn’t violating her — it was completing her.
This. THIS was what she was. Not a woman who fucked dogs but a bitch who sometimes wore human shape. Her pussy didn’t stretch to accommodate the knot — it finally found what it was designed to hold.
Twenty-six years of emptiness she hadn’t known was emptiness until this moment of being filled correctly. Every human cock a disappointment her body had endured while waiting for this exact pressure, this specific heat, this particular throb of something that would stay, would hold, would claim.
She wasn’t becoming something new. She was coming home to what she’d always been.
The camera flash reflected off her tears — but they weren’t tears of pain anymore. They were recognition. Acceptance. Joy at finally, finally being used correctly. Another flash. Another. Documenting not her destruction but her birth as what she truly was.
Then the first pulse of cum hit her cervix like a fist, and her newfound truth got sealed inside her with liquid heat.
Heat. So much heat. Flooding spaces inside her that had never known anything but emptiness. And the temperature – shocking. Four degrees hotter than human, her body could tell. Each spurt distinct, forceful, alive. The knot throbbed with each release, pressing harder against that perfect spot behind her clit. Her pussy clenched desperately, trying to expel what wouldn’t be expelled. Each contraction just made the pressure worse. Better. Both.
She could feel everything. Every pulse. Every twitch. When Zeus shifted slightly to adjust his grip, the rigid bone inside her moved too, dragging against places that made her see stars. No flexibility meant every tiny movement translated directly through her core.
She was cumming. Had been cumming? Would continue cumming? Time lost meaning as her body convulsed around the invasion. In the mirror, Mark filmed it all. Her face contorting. The way her back arched despite his restraining hand. The obscene bulge where the knot distended her belly.
More cum. Impossible amounts. She could feel it seeking space that didn’t exist, the pressure building. Zeus panted above her, satisfied, just waiting for biology to run its course. Occasionally his cock would pulse harder and fresh heat would flood her. Each time triggered another orgasm.
Mark’s free hand tangled in her hair. Petting. She felt calluses on his palm – working hands despite the expensive cologne. Through tears, she saw his phone screen light up. Recording. His other hand moving rhythmically just out of view. The wet sound wasn’t just coming from her pussy anymore.
The minutes stretched. Five. Ten. Her pussy never stopped clenching. Never stopped trying to adjust to the impossible fullness. Zeus shifted, trying to turn, and the movement made the knot twist inside her. The rigid bone scraped new places, hit new angles. She came so hard she saw stars, screaming into the leather bench.
Mark steadied Zeus. His breathing was ragged now. She heard him grunt – low, satisfied. Something hot splattered on the floor beside the bench.
Zeus settled again, resting his weight on her back. His chest pressed against her spine, his drool pooling at the base of her neck. Every breath he took moved the bone inside her. Every twitch sent fresh waves through her oversensitive nerves. When he panted harder, she felt it in her cervix.
Finally – fifteen minutes? Twenty? – she felt the knot begin to soften. Just slightly. Just enough. Her pussy tried to hold it, greedy now for what it had tried to reject. But biology had its own timeline.
The moment it slipped free was obscene. The knot popping out followed by a flood of cum that seemed endless. It poured from her gaping pussy, pooling on the bench, dripping to the floor. She collapsed in it, unable to move, still experiencing aftershocks.
Through the haze, she heard Mark moving. Felt warm towels cleaning her. His hands still shaking slightly. She caught his expression in the mirror – flushed, satisfied, adjusting his jeans.
“When-” Her voice was destroyed. Everything was destroyed. “When can I come back?”
He helped her sit up. Handed her water. Waited while she sipped with shaking hands. Then, finally, a single word:
“Thursday.”
Three days. Seventy-two hours. Already too long.
“Others?” The word escaped before she could stop it. Shameful. Greedy.
His smile widened slightly. “Ares. Apollo. Different breeds. Different… sizes.”
Her pussy clenched on emptiness. Already wanting. Already planning.
He helped her dress. Walked her to the door. Normal except for the cum still leaking down her thighs. The scratches on her hips. The way she couldn’t walk properly.
In the car, her phone buzzed. A message from Mark. The photo was perfectly timed – the exact moment the knot locked inside her. Eyes rolled back. Mouth open in a silent scream. The bulge visible even from that angle.
She saved it immediately. Stared at it. Remembered the feeling.
Then typed back: “Thank you.”
She sat in her car for twenty minutes, pussy still gaping, still leaking onto the towel she’d thought to bring. Her entire body felt different. Rewired. She could still feel phantom traces of the knot, the way it had pressed against everything.
Another text from Mark. Just an address. A time. Tomorrow.
Not Zeus. One of the others.
She should say no. Should go home. Process what had just happened. Instead, she screenshotted the address. Set an alarm.
Her pussy clenched thinking about different breeds. Different sizes. Different shapes of knots.
She was already lost. Already his. Already counting the hours until she could kneel on that bench again and beg whatever dog he put in front of her to use her properly.
Number seven in his collection.
But numbers didn’t matter anymore.
Only the next knot did.
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