The cracked leather passenger seat exhaled a puff of dust as Linda shifted, her bare thigh sticking slightly to the vinyl in the late July humidity. Outside the parked sedan, cicadas screamed in the overgrown lot bordering the state forest�a sound like tearing metal. Rich drummed restless fingers on the steering wheel, knuckles brushing her knee. "Honey, " he murmured, voice thick with the weight of unspoken years, "what do you want to do tonight?" The question hung between them, charged as the ozone scent before a storm. Not dinner. Not a movie. Not the numb ritual of their suburban living room.
"Let's go dogging." She said it low, almost swallowed by the cicadas' drone, eyes fixed not on his face but on the rearview mirror reflecting dark pines. "I haven't done anyone strange in a while." His thumb traced the seam of her cutoff shorts, a deliberate drag of calloused skin that made her breath hitch. The words weren't cruel, just factual�a blunt inventory of their fading thrill. Linda remembered the damp heat of a stranger's palm sliding up her spine in a state park parking lot two summers ago, the electric shame-pleasure that had vibrated in her bones for weeks. Now, domesticity clung like cobwebs.
Rich's voice cut through the sticky air. "Remember those guys with the vibrators?" It was a gambit, tossed out casually, but she felt the shift in his posture beside her�the coiled tension of a man laying down a bet. Three figures materialized in her mind: faceless shadows in a moonlit clearing deeper in the forest last September. One holding her wrists pinned above her head against rough bark, another pressing the humming plastic disc hard against her nipple through the thin cotton of her sundress. The third kneeling before her, the relentless buzz against her clit through damp underwear, a sensation like being flayed open. She hadn't been able to move, couldn't even gasp properly�just trembled, pinned between the tree and their bodies, every nerve ending shrieking towards a climax that felt stolen, not given.
Now, Rich pulled two small, matte-black vibrators from the glove compartment. They looked like grim beetles. He flicked both on simultaneously. The cicadas’ scream seemed to dim as a deeper, more intimate hum filled the car�a sound felt more in the teeth and the base of the spine than heard. Without hesitation, Rich slid one, ice-cold and vibrating violently, up the inside of her left thigh, pressing it firmly against the soaked crotch of her shorts. The second he placed against her lower back, right where the waistband dipped. The sudden, dual assault wasn't pleasure; it was invasion. Fabric vibrated against her clit and her tailbone like frantic insects trapped against her skin, the sensation ricocheting wildly from sharp discomfort to a deep, unwanted thrumming deep inside her pelvis. Her hips jerked involuntarily. "Rich�" she choked out, fingers digging into the dusty seat leather, knuckles white.
Ten minutes. That’s all it took. The relentless, focused buzz had burrowed past resistance, past thought. It liquefied her bones, turned her muscles into trembling jelly. The cool plastic was slick now with her own wetness seeping through the denim, creating a maddening friction against her swollen clit. Every pulse of the motor felt like a tongue licking directly into her core, pulling a low, ragged moan from her throat. "Please, " she gasped, the word thick and unfamiliar, her head thrown back against the headrest. Her eyes squeezed shut, but behind her lids flashed the forest clearing, the faceless men, the humming disc against her nipple. "Not this... fuck me. Just... fuck me." Her voice was raw, stripped of everything but need. She didn't specify who. Him. Them. Anyone.
Rich’s chuckle was a low rumble against the vibrator’s drone. He lifted his hand from her thigh, the sudden absence of pressure like a physical shock. With deliberate slowness, he reached across her trembling body and pulled the door handle. The click was sharp, final. Cicadas surged back into the humid air as the door swung wide. "She’s ready, " he announced, his voice carrying effortlessly. "She asked." He didn't look at Linda; his gaze swept the darkness beyond the headlights.
Shadows detached themselves from the deeper gloom beneath the pines. Twelve figures coalesced into the harsh light, moving with a quiet, practiced intent. They carried thick wool blankets rolled under arms, and hands clutched an assortment of toys: sleek silicone vibrators gleaming dully, leather harnesses dangling buckles, a coiled rope, a bulbous glass plug catching the glare. Their faces remained indistinct, blurred by the angle of the light and Linda’s swimming vision. The scent of pine resin, damp earth, and stale sweat reached her nostrils. One figure, taller and broader than the others, stepped slightly ahead. His voice, rough as gravel, cut through the cicadas: "Did she say we should fuck her?" The question hung, blunt and heavy, devoid of preamble.
Rich leaned back against the car door frame, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Yes she did, " he confirmed, his tone conversational, almost bored. "But we're gonna use the toys to drive her crazy first." As he spoke, two of the men moved behind Linda. Hands, impersonal and efficient, closed around her bare upper arms � the skin there cool now against the night air. Another pair crouched, unrolling thick blankets onto the crushed weeds and damp earth, the heavy wool smelling faintly of mildew and woodsmoke. They weren't gentle; they pivoted her stumbling body onto the scratchy center of the makeshift stage. Her knees touched the rough weave, sending a jolt through her trembling legs. Her breath hitched, ragged and audible in the sudden quiet between the cicadas' pulses.
She was breathing heavily, panting as they stood her back up in the middle of the blanket. Hands were everywhere, stripping her clothes from her body with startling speed � fingers popping the button of her shorts, yanking the denim down her legs, pulling her damp t-shirt over her head in one swift motion. The cool night air washed over her naked skin, raising instant goosebumps, contrasting violently with the heat radiating from her core. They were smiling as they undressed her, their expressions clinical but appreciative, like workers efficiently preparing a piece of equipment. One man whistled low, his eyes travelling the length of her exposed form. "What a body!" he said, his voice thick with genuine admiration that felt oddly detached, impersonal.
The gravel-voiced leader stepped close, his shadow falling over her. He didn't speak. Instead, large, calloused hands reached out and seized both her breasts firmly, his thumbs pressing deep into the soft flesh, circling her stiffening nipples with deliberate pressure. The touch wasn't gentle, it was possessive, assessing. Linda gasped, her head falling back involuntarily, a low moan escaping her lips as the sensation � the sheer blunt ownership of it � sent a fresh wave of wetness between her legs. Behind her, another man chuckled darkly. "She's gorgeous, " he murmured, his voice close to her ear as his own hands slid around her hips. His palms slapped against the curve of her ass, the sound sharp in the clearing, before rubbing firmly across the smooth, round globes. He squeezed hard, kneading the flesh, fingers dipping slightly into the cleft. Each touch, each possessive claim on her body, seemed to bypass her conscious resistance entirely, feeding directly into the desperate arousal already humming through her veins. She moaned again, louder this time, her hips pushing back slightly against the hands gripping her ass even as she arched her chest forward against the hands on her breasts. The conflicting pressures ignited sparks along her nerves.
Hands guided her roughly backwards onto the scratchy wool blanket beside the car. Rich leaned casually against the fender, adjusting the two dim work lights clipped to the roof rack. Their beams converged harshly on her naked torso, casting deep shadows between her breasts, illuminating the rapid rise and fall of her ribs, the sheen of sweat already blooming on her skin despite the cool air. The gravel-voiced man knelt beside her head, his expression unreadable in the stark light. He didn't touch her yet. Instead, he pulled a sleek, obsidian vibrator from a leather pouch, its surface catching the light like wet stone. He thumbed it on, and a deep, resonant thrum joined the cicadas' chorus. He held it inches above her sternum, letting the vibration wash over her skin like a physical wave. Linda whimpered, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. "Please, " she breathed, her voice ragged. "Just..."
The man ignored her plea. With clinical precision, he lowered the humming device onto her belly, just below her navel. The intense vibration instantly liquefied her core muscles, making her pelvis jerk upwards involuntarily. Simultaneously, another figure knelt between her splayed thighs, placing a wider, flatter vibrating disc directly against her pubic bone. The dual assault wasn't focused on her clit yet; it was foundational, shaking her entire pelvis like an earthquake tremor. A third man crouched beside her hip, pressing a small, buzzing bullet against the sensitive skin just below her ribs. The sensations weren't localized pleasure points; they were overlapping fields of deep, bone-rattling vibration that traveled through her flesh, making her limbs tremble uncontrollably, her moans becoming high-pitched gasps trapped in her throat.
Rich moved deliberately towards the car’s roof rack, unclipping two compact video cameras. Their tiny red recording lights blinked to life like malevolent eyes. "Gonna capture every twitch, " he murmured, mounting one camera onto a tripod pointed down at Linda’s thrashing form, the other angled low for an invasive close-up. He adjusted the focus until Linda’s sweat-slicked skin, the frantic pulse in her neck, and the involuntary clenching of her inner thighs filled the viewfinder. "See?" he addressed the gravel-voiced leader, his own voice thick with anticipation. "She’s halfway there already. Watch her belly flutter." The camera lenses drank in the way her abdominal muscles spasmed beneath the relentless thrumming of the obsidian vibrator.
Three men converged with practiced coordination, their silhouettes blocking the dim light. One knelt beside her shoulder, pressing a slender, high-frequency bullet against the delicate skin behind her earlobe. The vibration buzzed directly into her skull, scrambling thought into static. Another slid a flat, ribbed pad�cold and humming�against the arch of her right foot, making her toes curl violently. The third pressed a thick, curved vibrator into the small of her back, right against her tailbone, sending jolts radiating up her spine like electric vines. Every inch of her skin screamed under separate frequencies, a dissonant orchestra tuning her nerves to breaking point. Her moans fractured into choked, breathless cries as her hips bucked against nothing, seeking friction her captors denied.
The gravel-voiced leader leaned close, his breath hot on her temple. "Not yet, " he growled, tracing the obsidian vibrator lower, skimming her belly button before grinding it firmly against her pubic mound. "Beg properly." The command echoed Rich’s earlier words. Below, the disc vibrator shifted slightly�not onto her clit, but angled against the sensitive inner crease of her thigh, maddeningly close. She felt the slickness pooling beneath her, the cool air sharp on her wetness as the vibrations teased every nerve ending *around* her core without touching it. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding, thighs trembling with the effort of staying spread. A strangled sob tore from her throat. "Please!" she gasped, the word ragged. "Touch me�there!"
One of the kneeling men chuckled�a low, wet sound. He held up two thick silicone vibrators, their surfaces textured like ridges, humming with a deeper resonance than the others. With deliberate slowness, he pressed one against each of Linda’s stiffened nipples, pinning them hard against the soft flesh. The intense vibration instantly traveled down her nerve pathways like live wires, connecting directly to the throbbing ache between her legs. She arched off the blanket, a sharp cry escaping her�not pleasure, but the shock of sensation forcibly linking these distant points of her body into one circuit of desperate need.
The gravel-voiced leader leaned forward, his shadow swallowing her. From behind him, another man extended a thick, knotted object�not plastic, but polished obsidian glass, shaped unmistakably like a horse cock, its surface gleaming wetly in the harsh lights. The leader grasped Linda’s hipbone firmly, fingers digging into the yielding flesh above her pubis as he positioned the massive head against her entrance. It felt cold, impossibly wide. He pushed in slowly, millimeter by millimeter, the vibration thrumming deep into her core walls as it stretched her. Linda’s scream tore through the clearing, raw and ragged, her pelvis jerking uncontrollably against the invasion while her inner muscles clenched in instinctive panic around the intruding shape.
Another thick silicone vibrator, shaped like a stubby thumb, pressed directly onto her exposed clit. The vibration wasn't gentle; it was a frantic, high-frequency buzz that felt like sandpaper grinding against raw nerve endings. Her entire body arched violently, heels digging into the blanket, spine bowing off the ground as the dual assault�deep stretching fullness and surface-level abrasion�collided inside her nervous system. The world dissolved into pure sensation: the deep pulse of the glass stretching her core, the frantic sandpaper buzz shredding her clit, and the relentless hum of bullets vibrating her nipples, earlobes, and arches.
All resistance vaporized. Her muscles surrendered, liquefied by the overload. A tidal wave gathered low in her belly, pulling every vibrating point towards it�nipple buzz, skull hum, foot tremor, all converging into the white-hot crucible between her legs. It wasn't pleasure; it was annihilation. Her breath hitched, stalled, lungs frozen. Then, with zero warning, her pelvis jackknifed upwards, twisting her violently sideways, tearing her hips from the leader's grip. She rolled off the scratchy wool blanket onto the cool, damp earth, her limbs thrashing uncontrollably, fingers clawing at the dirt. A guttural moan tore from her throat, primal and ragged, echoing through the clearing. "Please!" she gasped, the word ripped from her lungs. "Please! FUCK ME!" The scream wasn't directed; it was pure biological imperative, shattering the cicadas' drone as the orgasm detonated like a depth charge in her pelvis, radiating outwards in blinding, electric waves.
Rich watched her convulse on the dirt, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned back against the sedan's fender, the cold metal pressing through his thin shirt. "Not yet, " he murmured, his voice almost lost beneath her choked cries. He reached into the open door of the cab, his fingers curling around something metallic and cold. From a padded case tucked beneath the driver's seat, he pulled out four small, adhesive-backed electrodes, their wires coiling like slender snakes. The conductive gel pads gleamed faintly in the harsh work lights. Without ceremony, ignoring her shuddering aftershocks on the ground, Rich crouched beside Linda's trembling form. The damp earth clung to her sweat-slicked skin. He peeled the backing off two electrodes with practiced efficiency and pressed one firmly onto the soft swell of flesh just above each stiffened nipple. The cold gel made her flinch violently. Then, shifting lower, he pressed the remaining two electrodes onto the sensitive inner folds of her thighs, mere centimeters from her swollen, glistening clit. The placement was precise, deliberate, framing the neglected epicenter.
He straightened, wiping his fingers on his jeans. "Get the tent stakes from the truck, " he commanded, his voice cutting through the humid air, directed at the gravel-voiced leader. The man nodded curtly, turning towards the pickup parked deeper in the shadows. Rich pulled a small, matte-black controller from his pocket, its surface smooth and featureless except for two dials. He thumbed the power switch. Instantly, a low, resonant thrumming pulsed through Linda’s chest and thighs � deep muscle contractions vibrating her bones from within. It wasn’t pleasure; it felt like being gripped by invisible hands squeezing rhythmically around her core, making her gasp with each contraction. He twisted the dials slowly. The thrumming intensified, synchronizing with her frantic heartbeat, vibrating the electrodes against her nipples and inner thighs with escalating force.
The low voltage surged, sharpening the thrumming into something alien � thousands of tiny electric ants crawling *under* her skin, burrowing into the tender flesh of her nipples and inner thighs, converging towards her neglected clit. The sensations were dramatic, invasive, forcing choked whimpers from her throat as her body arched off the damp earth, muscles locking in protest. Linda wiggled violently, trying to escape the crawling, biting energy pinning her down, her moans dissolving into ragged breaths. Rich watched her struggle, his expression detached, clinical even. Then, from the leather pouch slung at his hip, he produced another vibrator � not smooth silicone, but a seamless, flesh-toned replica of a human cock, complete with prominent veins and a thick, bulbous knot at its base. Its surface glistened faintly with conductive gel.
Without preamble, ignoring her frantic writhing against the invisible electric swarm, Rich slid the cold, knotted vibrator into her slick, convulsing entrance. It breached her easily, stretched her with practiced efficiency, and he pushed it deep, burying the thick knot firmly against her cervix. The sudden, unyielding pressure inside her core � solid, anchoring � momentarily eclipsed the biting electricity crawling beneath her skin. A guttural groan tore from her lips, her hips jerking upwards involuntarily against the intrusion. Then Rich thumbed the vibrator’s switch. A deep, resonant pulse bloomed from within her, vibrating directly against her G-spot with astonishing precision. It wasn't a surface buzz; it was a foundational thrumming that resonated through her pelvic floor, a counterpoint to the crawling electricity on her skin.
Linda bucked wildly, desperate friction against the damp earth beneath her bare ass. Her hips pistoned upwards, seeking leverage, seeking *something* solid to grind against, to chase the maddening internal vibration. But Rich held the vibrator firm, anchoring it deep inside her while the electrodes continued their relentless electric dance. Her pelvis arched high, strained against his grip, then slammed back down onto the cool, packed dirt. Again. And again. Her thighs trembled violently, her spine twisted, her hips rolled and thrust with uncontrolled abandon. She wasn't riding a cock; she was fucking the earth itself, driven by the twin tortures buzzing inside her core and crawling under her skin. Sweat poured down her temples, mingling with the dirt clinging to her cheek. Each downward thrust scraped her lower back raw against the rough ground, each upward arch strained her abdomen until the muscles screamed. Her breath came in ragged, tearing gasps punctuated by choked, wordless cries � pure, desperate kinetic energy unleashed against the unyielding night.
They watched her. Rich, leaning back against the sedan's fender, a slow sip of lukewarm beer halfway to his lips. The gravel-voiced leader, arms crossed, observing Linda's frantic solo performance with detached appraisal. Others stood clustered at the edge of the headlights' glare, silhouettes against the dark pines. Their eyes tracked her frantic movements � the violent rocking of her hips, the deep inward curl of her torso as she strained upwards, the raw scrape of her skin against the dirt on the downstroke. She was utterly alone on the scratchy wool blanket now cast aside, a solitary engine of need convulsing against the planet. Her movements weren't graceful; they were jarring, primal, hips lifting high only to crash down again, pelvis grinding against nothing tangible. It looked less like passion, more like a frantic, painful exorcism. Her hands clawed uselessly at the cold ground beside her hips, fingers digging furrows into the damp earth as she pushed herself up again, driving her pelvis skyward before collapsing once more. The wet slap of her own sweat-slicked skin against dirt echoed faintly beneath the cicadas' drone. She was wrestling with ghosts, fucking the void.
Rich lowered the beer bottle, its condensation dripping onto his jeans. He turned his head slightly towards the gravel-voiced leader, his voice cutting through Linda’s ragged gasps and the rhythmic thud of her impact with the earth. "Did you bring the bacon grease?" he asked, his tone conversational, practical. The leader nodded once, a slow dip of his chin, the action economical. "Cooler in the truck bed, " he replied, his rough voice flat. Without breaking his observation of Linda’s continued, desperate thrashing, Rich then shifted his gaze slightly towards another figure lurking near the pickup truck � a leaner man holding a coiled length of rope. "And the litters?" Rich asked him. "The puppies?" The lean man gestured vaguely towards the deeper woods. "Tethered back by the creek. Quiet now." Rich nodded, satisfied. Practicalities addressed.
He gestured casually towards two leaner figures standing near the edge of the headlights' pool � youths barely past their teens, their faces still carrying a hint of softness beneath the shadows. "You two, " Rich commanded, his thumb jerking towards Linda’s trembling form, now slick with sweat and streaked with damp earth. "Bring the grease. Cover her." The two younger men exchanged a quick, almost nervous glance before scrambling towards the pickup truck. They hauled out an old, battered metal cooler, its lid scraping open with a metallic groan. Inside, nestled in melting ice cubes, lay a thick, opaque tub. The smell hit them first � rich, smoky, and heavy with rendered fat. They scooped generous handfuls of the cold, gelatinous bacon grease, its consistency thick and slick between their fingers.
Moving with hesitant purpose, they knelt beside Linda’s still-bucking body. Ignoring her choked gasps and the violent tremors running through her limbs, they began their work. Their hands were clumsy at first, unsure. One young man started at her feet, spreading the cold grease thickly over her arching soles and trembling calves, coating the skin until it gleamed dully in the harsh light, muffling the scrape of her skin against the dirt. The other began higher, fingers working the white lard into the sweat-slicked hollows of her armpits, then down over her shuddering ribs. The coldness was a shock against her overheated skin, making her gasp sharply. They worked upwards, slathering grease over her heaving belly, the thick layer pooling slightly in her navel. They avoided her nipples �they pulled the electrodes from her body and coated the swell of her breasts and nipples, the grease catching the light like greasy moonlight. Then, moving lower still, they pressed cold handfuls against her inner thighs, smearing it thickly across the sensitive folds near her groin, on her clit, and pushing some inside her wet pussy. The smell intensified � smoky, animal, primal � mingling with the scent of pine and her own arousal.
Rich watched, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He pulled a length of worn black fabric from his jacket pocket � a blindfold, soft and thick. Without ceremony, ignoring Linda’s ragged breathing and the involuntary twitches still coursing through her greased limbs, he moved behind her head. His fingers were firm, impersonal, pulling her sweat-dampened hair away from her temples before pressing the blindfold firmly over her eyes, knotting it tightly at the back of her skull. The world vanished into stifling velvet darkness, amplifying the scent of bacon fat and damp earth, the rasp of her own breath, the lingering phantom buzz beneath her skin. "Hold still, " he murmured, his voice close to her ear, devoid of warmth. "Gotta keep the surprise."
A low murmur rippled through the men standing guard. Footsteps crunched on the gravelly soil nearby, followed by a chorus of high-pitched, eager whines � sharp, frantic little barks that cut through the cicadas’ drone. The sound wasn’t threatening; it was pure, desperate hunger. Linda froze, her breath catching. *Puppies?* The thought was absurd, incongruous amidst the lingering echoes of violation. Then came the soft scrape of a gate opening, the rustle of something small and numerous scrambling free onto the packed earth. The whines intensified, a frantic symphony of tiny claws scrabbling closer.
Rich’s hands remained firm on her shoulders, keeping her lying there on the damp, greasy earth as the first wave hit. The initial touch was startlingly warm � a dozen tiny, wet tongues lapping frantically at the cold bacon grease coating her calves and thighs. They weren’t gentle; they were ravenous, driven by instinct and the overpowering scent. Their small, hot bodies pressed against her legs, their blunt noses pushing insistently into the folds of grease. Warmth bloomed everywhere they touched, a startling counterpoint to the cool lard. Linda gasped, flinching backwards instinctively, but Rich held her fast. "Hold still, " he murmured again, his voice low and taut with anticipation behind her blindfold.
The second wave was released � a cascade of scrambling paws and eager whimpers. Suddenly, the warm, frantic tongues were everywhere: swarming up her greased belly, their tiny paws scrabbling against her ribs, their hot breath puffing against her skin. One puppy latched onto a grease-slathered nipple, its wet tongue rasping over the sensitive peak with astonishing vigor, sending a sharp jolt of sensation straight to her core. Another buried its muzzle into the thick grease smeared in her armpit, its little tongue flicking maddeningly against the delicate skin. The sheer number overwhelmed her sensory map; she felt like a landscape being explored by an army of tiny, insistent cartographers mapping her contours with wet heat. Their combined weight pinned her hips firmly to the ground, their collective warmth seeping into her chilled skin, amplifying the lingering phantom buzz from the electrodes.
They covered her completely, a living blanket of warm fur and slick tongues. Small, wet noses nudged against her collarbone, her throat, the curve of her jaw. One bold pup licked a stripe up the side of her neck, its rough tongue surprisingly strong. But the most intense focus was lower. Several puppies converged on the thickly greased swell of her pubic mound, their tiny tongues working furiously, lapping at the smoky fat coating her inner thighs and the swollen folds beneath. Their enthusiasm was absolute, their hunger palpable. One, smaller than the rest, wormed its way between her thighs, its warm muzzle pressing insistently against her slick entrance. Its tiny pink tongue darted out, probing, tasting, driven purely by the potent scent clinging to her skin and the grease pushed inside her. The sensation wasn't gentle exploration; it was a focused, relentless wet pressure directly against her hypersensitive clit, rasping over the hood with surprising persistence. Linda gasped, a sound swallowed by the chorus of greedy whines and wet slurps, her hips lifting involuntarily only to be pushed back down by the weight of the bodies above.
The sensation built not as isolated points, but as a suffusing wave. Every inch of her skin crawled with the minute vibrations of frantic licking � soft bellies pressed against her ribs, paws kneading her stomach, wet tongues tracing the grease-slicked undersides of her breasts. One pup latched onto her nipple with surprising suction, its warm mouth pulling rhythmically while its tongue flicked the stiff peak relentlessly. Another concentrated on the hollow beneath her ear, its hot breath puffing against her skin as it licked. But the core of the assault remained low � the constant, insistent rasping against her clit by the small pup wedged between her thighs, amplified by others licking the grease from her inner folds and the sensitive skin around her opening. It felt less like multiple mouths and more like one enormous, living tongue bathing her entire lower body in wet heat and friction. Her clit throbbed violently, alive with a sexual tension unlike anything she'd ever known � not the focused expertise of a lover, nor the detached efficiency of a vibrator, but a primal, overwhelming *attention*, innocent yet devastatingly effective. Her nipples, swollen and sensitive from the pup's persistent suckling and the lingering ghost of the electrodes, felt engorged, aching in tandem with the deep pulse radiating from her core.
As they continued to lick her, a profound heat ignited deep within her pelvis. It wasn't localized pleasure; it felt like slow magma rising, heating her blood, liquefying her bones. She felt the orgasm building inside her, a seismic pressure gathering force beneath the relentless, wet friction. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced � a raw, biological imperative detonating from the core outward, fueled by the sheer animalistic persistence of the puppies' hunger and the slickness of the grease coating her hypersensitive skin. Her hips bucked weakly against the collective weight pinning her down, seeking deeper contact with the tiny tongue rasping her clit, but the press of furry bodies held her firmly. Her breath hitched, became shallow gasps trapped beneath the blindfold's velvet darkness. Muscles deep in her belly clenched rhythmically, pulling tighter with each frantic lap, each insistent suckle. It took over her whole body, vibrating up her spine, making her toes curl violently against the greasy blanket, her fingers digging uselessly into the damp earth beneath her shoulders. She trembled uncontrollably, a fine tremor that escalated into full-body convulsions. It wasn't pleasure; it was annihilation, a tidal wave of sensation cresting beyond her control.
Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding against the primal need to scream. Her spine arched violently off the cool earth, lifting the puppies clinging to her belly for a suspended second before gravity slammed her back down. The collision jarred her bones, sending shockwaves through her system. The small pup between her thighs intensified its focus, its tiny pink tongue flicking with astonishing precision against her swollen clit hood � rasping, probing, relentless. The suction on her nipple deepened, pulling a guttural groan from her throat that echoed strangely in the humid darkness. Her pelvic floor muscles clenched in desperate, involuntary spasms, drawing the core of her sensation impossibly tighter. Every nerve ending screamed in unison, converging into a white-hot singularity between her legs. She felt slickness pooling beneath her, mingling with the bacon grease, creating a potent, musky slickness the puppies lapped at with renewed frenzy. Her hips jerked in frantic, abortive thrusts, seeking impossible friction against the tiny rasping tongue, the movement scraping her bare lower back raw against the grit beneath the wool blanket. Her breath came in ragged, tearing gasps, each inhale sharp with the scent of pine, grease, and her own desperate arousal.
All at once she exploded, squirting in a mad rush as it came from her wetting the little fellow between her legs. It wasn't a controlled release but a sudden, violent expulsion, a pressurized jet soaking the small pup's muzzle and chest fur as it continued its frantic licking. The sensation was seismic, ripping through her pelvis like an internal detonation, tearing a raw, wordless cry from her throat that shattered the chorus of whines. Her vision, already obscured by the blindfold, flashed white behind the velvet darkness. Her hips lifted clear off the ground in a rigid arch, suspended for a breathless moment by pure neuromuscular shock, the puppies momentarily clinging like burrs. Wetness flooded her inner thighs, hot and startling against the cool grease, drenching the blanket beneath her hips. The squirting wasn't a singular pulse but a chaotic cascade, each contraction of her core muscles forcing out another hot gush that splattered against the pup's face and the dirt below. She felt the frantic scramble of tiny paws against her slick skin as the drenched puppy momentarily recoiled, startled by the unexpected deluge.
Rich’s voice sliced through the wet aftermath, sharp and commanding. "Did you bring the daddies?" he barked towards the clustered shadows beyond Linda’s blindfolded darkness. The gravel-voiced leader stepped forward, his silhouette blotting out the harsh light filtering through Linda's eyelids. "Oh yes, " he confirmed, his rough tone carrying an edge of grim satisfaction. "They're tethered back by the creek. Ready." Rich jerked his chin towards Linda’s trembling, grease-streaked form, still shuddering with aftershocks beneath the milling puppies. "OK, gather up the little ones, " Rich ordered, his voice tight with impatience. "Get 'em clear. We'll bring the daddies in." Two younger men moved swiftly, scooping puppies away despite their protesting whines and licks still aimed at Linda's greasy skin, lifting them off her belly and thighs, their warm weight suddenly gone, leaving her feeling exposed and shockingly cold where the air hit her wetness. The owner leaned close to Rich, his breath hot on Rich’s cheek. A low whisper, barely audible over Linda’s ragged gasps and the cicadas: "My wife has them... but she wants payment from your wife for letting her use them." A pause, heavy with implication. "You know she trained both of them. Personally." Rich’s answering chuckle was low, dark, and devoid of humor. "She'll pay, " he muttered, his gaze fixed on Linda’s blindfolded face. "One way or another."
The owner stepped back into the shadows. Rich moved towards Linda, his boots crunching on the packed earth beside the damp blanket. He knelt, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. His fingers weren't gentle as they gripped the knot of her blindfold. With a sharp tug, he ripped it away, the sudden flood of harsh light making Linda flinch violently, her eyes watering. Rich’s face loomed above her, his expression unreadable, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Look, " he commanded, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. He grabbed a fistful of her sweat-matted hair near her temple, forcing her head to turn towards the deeper gloom beneath the towering pines. Linda blinked rapidly, her vision swimming, struggling to focus. The owner reappeared, leading two massive Pitbulls by thick leather leashes. They were brindled giants, muscles rippling beneath short fur slick with creek water, their broad chests thick as barrels. Their dark eyes scanned the scene, nostrils flaring wide at the potent scent of grease, sweat, and Linda’s lingering wetness. They strained against their leashes, powerful shoulders bunching, low rumbles starting deep in their chests � not barks, but primal vibrations that Linda felt resonate in the cold dirt beneath her spine. Their jaws hung slightly open, revealing thick pink tongues and glistening teeth. They weren’t pets; they were engines of raw animal instinct, focused intently on the source of the overwhelming smell � her.
The gravel-voiced leader tightened his grip on the leashes, knuckles white. "She's primed, " he stated, his rough voice carrying easily. He didn’t look at Rich; his gaze was locked on the dogs’ intense focus. Then, he added the crucial detail, his voice dropping slightly, thick with a disturbing practicality: "My wife trained them to respond to scent... and to specific commands." He paused, his eyes flicking briefly to Rich. "What she wants, " he continued, the words deliberate, "is to see your wife's mouth occupied during the act." Rich didn’t flinch. He met the leader’s gaze directly, his smirk widening into something colder, sharper. "Occupied?" Rich echoed, a dark amusement threading his voice. He shifted his grip on Linda’s hair, pulling her head further back, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat. His thumb pressed hard against her jawbone, forcing her mouth slightly open. "Oh, she loves to eat pussy, " Rich said, the statement delivered with chilling casualness, like commenting on the weather. He scanned Linda’s glazed, panicked eyes. "They'll get along famously." He jerked his chin towards the dogs. "And the camera..." Rich gestured towards the tripod-mounted lens still trained unblinkingly on Linda's prone form, "...will catch it all crystal clear. For your wife. If she wants it." It wasn't a question; it was a transaction sealed.
Rich bent low, his lips brushing Linda’s temple, his breath hot and smelling faintly of stale coffee and tobacco. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, intended only for her ears. "Do you, " he hissed, the words sharp and deliberate, "still want to be fucked?" He didn’t wait for a flicker of comprehension. His fingers tightened painfully in her hair, forcing her face towards the straining Pitbulls. Their low growls vibrated through the damp earth beneath her, echoing the phantom hum still buzzing deep in her marrow. Their dark eyes, intelligent and utterly devoid of empathy, fixed on her exposed body, nostrils flaring rhythmically as they inhaled the potent cocktail of bacon grease, sweat, and her own damp, musky arousal clinging to the air. Linda’s vision swam; the harsh work lights haloed the animals’ massive heads, blurring their features into terrifying shapes of muscle and intent. She felt the raw, predatory hunger radiating from them, a palpable pressure against her skin. It bypassed thought, bypassed shame, igniting a terrifying echo of the desperate need that had consumed her under the puppies’ tongues. Her breath hitched, trapped in her throat. "Now, " she gasped, the word tearing itself from her lips, raw and ragged, her gaze locked helplessly on the dogs. "More than ever." It wasn't defiance; it was surrender to the accelerating, inevitable plunge. Linda turned over, on her hands and knees as the blonde girl put socks on their front paws.
Rich straightened, his smirk widening into a predatory grin. He snapped his fingers sharply, once. The gravel-voiced leader loosened his grip on the leashes, not releasing them, but allowing slack. Simultaneously, he barked a single command � guttural, unfamiliar � that sliced through the cicadas’ drone. The dogs surged forward instantly, powerful haunches bunching, thick claws digging into the damp earth, pulling the handler stumbling a step behind them. They moved with terrifying, coordinated purpose. The larger dog, brindled coat gleaming slickly under the lights, lunged directly between Linda’s splayed thighs. Its massive head lowered; its broad, wet nose bumped roughly against her inner thigh, snuffling violently through the slick remnants of grease and her own wetness. The coarse fur of its muzzle rasped against her hypersensitive skin, a raw friction that drew a sharp gasp from her lips. Hot, humid dog breath washed over her exposed vulva, thick with the scent of creek water and primal hunger. Its thick pink tongue suddenly rasped upwards in one broad, powerful stroke, from perineum to clit � a wet, hot drag like coarse sandpaper against raw nerves, utterly unlike the puppies' frantic licks. Linda screamed, a sound ripped from deep in her belly, her hips bucking violently upwards off the blanket, seeking impossible contact, escaping the overwhelming sensation only to slam back down onto the scratchy wool.
The smaller Pitbull, just as muscular but slightly leaner, circled her kneeling form with unnerving speed. Its focus wasn’t her sex; its dark, intelligent eyes fixed on the young blonde girl kneeling nearby, hastily pulling thick wool socks onto the dog’s front paws. Before Linda could process the shift, the dog lunged sideways, its powerful jaws closing gently but firmly around the blonde’s wrist, pulling her hand away from its paw. A low rumble vibrated from its chest, more warning than threat. The girl froze, wide-eyed, her breath catching. The dog released her wrist, nudged her hip hard with its massive head, and then, with startling agility for its bulk, pushed its muzzle insistently against her lower belly, forcing her backwards onto her own haunches on the blanket beside Linda. The blonde scrambled backwards instinctively, her hands braced behind her, but the dog advanced, its wet nose pushing against the soft cotton of her skirt, snuffling upwards towards her crotch with single-minded intensity. Its hot breath bloomed through the fabric against her skin. The blonde gasped, her eyes darting wildly to Rich, then to Linda � a silent plea mixed with dawning shock.
Linda watched, her own breath ragged in her throat. The blonde’s skirt had ridden up above her knees as she scrambled back, exposing smooth thighs. The dog’s muzzle pressed firmly against the blonde’s clothed mound now, its nose working rhythmically, inhaling deeply. Linda saw the fabric darken visibly beneath the dog’s hot breath, saw the blonde’s thighs tremble. A sharp pang shot through Linda’s own core � part sympathy, part a terrifying echo of her own recent violation. "I like her, " Linda whispered suddenly, the words thick and unexpected, her gaze locked on the blonde’s terrified face. "She’s pretty." The blonde’s eyes snapped to hers, wide with confusion. Linda’s lips curled into a shaky, almost involuntary smile. "I’d eat her anytime, " she breathed, her voice dropping lower, rougher. "Especially now." The admission hung in the humid air, charged with the unnatural tension. It wasn't lust; it was a desperate anchor thrown amidst the accelerating chaos � a craving for connection, however twisted, amidst the encroaching beasts.
The gravel-voiced leader barked another sharp command. The larger Pitbull’s head snapped up instantly from its inspection of Linda’s slickness. Its dark eyes, intelligent and devoid of warmth, fixed on Linda’s kneeling form. Then, with terrifying swiftness, it pivoted. Its powerful hindquarters bunched, thick claws scrabbling briefly in the dirt, and it launched itself upwards. Linda saw the blur of brindled fur, smelled the damp reek of creek water and primal musk. She instinctively braced herself, her fingers digging into the scratchy wool blanket beneath her knees. Its heavy front paws landed squarely on her bare back, the sudden impact punching the air from her lungs in a choked gasp. Sharp claws pricked her skin, drawing instant pinpricks of fire along her shoulder blades. The sheer weight of the animal � dense muscle and bone � pressed her pelvis forward, forcing her lower belly hard against her thighs. Its hot breath cascaded over the nape of her neck, thick and humid, carrying the raw scent of its excitement. She felt the coarse fur of its belly brush her spine.
The dog shifted its weight, adjusting its stance. Its thick, slick penis, previously sheathed, emerged fully engorged � a deep, angry pinkish-red knot already swelling at its base, glistening with pre-cum. Its hips lowered, aligning perfectly behind her. The massive, bulbous head of its cock, hot and slick, bumped roughly against Linda’s soaked entrance, smearing her own wetness against her trembling flesh. She felt the sheer, impossible girth of it pressing against her delicate opening. The sensation wasn't just pressure; it was a terrifying promise of violation radiating deep into her pelvic floor. Her inner muscles clenched instinctively tight, a futile shield against the inevitable. The dog gave a low, rumbling growl, vibrating through its chest and into Linda’s back. Its hips tensed.
He lunged forward. Instantly, she was full. The sudden, brutal thrust drove the thick canine cock deep into her unprepared channel in one relentless motion. The stretching sensation was blinding, white-hot agony tearing through her core as her inner walls were forced apart wider than she’d ever imagined possible. She screamed, a raw, animal sound ripped from her throat, her spine arching violently against the impossible intrusion. The coarse fur of its belly rasped against her lower back, a secondary abrasion over the deep, internal violation. It stretched her to the limit, the massive knot already pressing firmly against her swollen outer lips, locking inside her with agonizing pressure. Her vision blurred, the harsh lights dissolving into streaks as her body instinctively fought the overwhelming invasion.
He withdrew almost completely � leaving just the flared head wedged inside her � then slammed forward again. Each thrust was a piston-driven assault: fast, deep strokes that hammered into her cervix, forcing choked gasps between her screams. The rhythm was relentless, primal. His thick cock stretched her wider with each penetration, dragging against her sensitive ridges with a friction that burned and electrified. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly, trying to accommodate the impossible girth, alternating between spasms of resistance and involuntary clenching that only intensified the raw scrape of his shaft against her tender flesh. Her hips jerked uncontrollably, pinned forward by his weight yet bucking against it, trapped in a frantic dance of agony and overwhelming, unwanted sensation. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes, mingling with tears she didn’t consciously shed.
He was wonderful. Not gentle, not kind, but a force of nature � powerful, uncomplicated, utterly consumed by his own driving need. She gasped, her breath catching sharply as the next thrust hit a spot deep inside her that sparked molten gold through the blinding pain. The sensation that washed over her was a paradox: the tearing stretch of her core, the brutal friction against her cervix, yet beneath it, a deep, resonant thrumming pleasure blossomed unexpectedly, radiating outwards from her womb like liquid heat. It felt like being split open and filled with sunlight simultaneously. His hot breath blasted against her neck, thick with animal musk and creek water, his coarse chest fur rasping against her sweat-slicked spine with each powerful drive. The wild fuck wasn't tender; it was raw possession, a claiming that bypassed thought and ignited something primal in her marrow.
She needed him deeper. The thought was absurd, terrifying, yet undeniable as his next thrust shoved impossibly more of his thick, knotted shaft inside her. Her inner walls fluttered wildly, less resisting now and more clinging desperately to the invading heat. The friction shifted from purely agonizing to a complex symphony: the searing stretch of her entrance around the swelling knot, the deep, bruising pressure against her cervix, and a sudden, shocking jolt of pure electric pleasure as the ridge just below the knot dragged hard over her G-spot. It felt like being branded from the inside. A ragged moan tore from her throat, mingling with the dog’s low, rhythmic growls vibrating through her bones. Her hips jerked back instinctively against his weight, seeking more of that impossible depth, that terrifying friction.
Her spine arched violently, pressing the coarse fur of his belly harder against her sweat-slicked back. The movement drove her pelvis backwards onto his thrusting cock with renewed force. Each desperate grind against him amplified the sensation � the thick shaft filling every inch, the knot bumping rhythmically against her swollen outer lips, stretching them wider with each impact, promising an anchor point she both feared and craved. Her fingers clawed uselessly at the scratchy blanket beneath her knees, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. The deep, resonant pleasure bloomed hotter, wider, pushing against the edges of the pain, threatening to consume it entirely. She felt her own wetness gushing around the invading shaft, hot and slick, lubricating the savage rhythm.
The blonde girl whimpered nearby, a sharp, panicked sound. Linda’s gaze snapped sideways. The smaller Pitbull had pinned the blonde flat on her back, its massive paws braced heavily on her shoulders. Its muzzle was buried between her spread thighs, nose pressed hard against the thin cotton fabric of her panties, snuffling violently. The blonde’s skirt bunched around her waist, exposing smooth, trembling legs. Her hands fluttered weakly against the dog’s muscular neck, a futile attempt to push the hundred-pound animal away. Its low growl vibrated through the humid air, thick with primal intent. The blonde’s eyes met Linda’s � wide, terrified, pleading.
A surge of possessive fury, raw and unexpected, ignited in Linda’s gut. That gaze, that vulnerability � it belonged to *her* now, a prize offered by the chaos. "She’s mine!" Linda screamed at the smaller dog, her voice ragged but slicing through the cicadas’ drone. The Pitbull instantly snapped its massive head towards her, dark eyes locking onto hers. A low, warning rumble escaped its throat, vibrating the air between them. For a heartbeat, the brute hesitated, muscles coiled. Linda met its gaze unflinchingly, a primal challenge radiating from her sweat-slicked, animal-mounted form. Then, slowly, the dog backed away from the blonde, its heavy paws thudding on the blanket, releasing its pressure. It didn’t retreat far; it stood panting, watching Linda with unnerving intelligence, its wet muzzle glistening under the harsh lights.
The blonde scrambled backwards in frantic, crab-like movements, her skirt twisted around her waist, her eyes wide and fixed on Linda. Tears carved clean tracks through the grime on her cheeks. Without breaking eye contact, Linda hissed a command, sharp and guttural, mimicking the handler’s earlier tone: "Come!" Her own voice felt alien, thick with authority borrowed from the beasts. The blonde froze, trembling violently. Then, driven by terror or some desperate instinct for survival, she crawled forward on hands and knees towards Linda, her movements stiff and jerky. She stopped within arm’s reach, her breath hitching in ragged gasps, her gaze darting between Linda’s face and the massive dog still pistoning relentlessly behind her.
The blonde’s fingers trembled as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her damp cotton panties. She slid them down her thighs in one frantic motion, kicking them aside onto the scratchy wool blanket. Her bare mound was smooth, taut, glistening faintly in the harsh work lights. Still trembling, she shuffled closer on her knees, her movements hesitant, until she was positioned directly beneath Linda’s arched, sweat-slicked torso. Then, with a sound caught between a whimper and a sob, she slid sideways, pressing her shoulder blades flat against the blanket, and wriggled upwards, sliding *under* Linda’s lowered head. Linda’s skull settled heavily onto the softness of the blonde’s bare belly, the unexpected pillow yielding and warm beneath her sweat-damp hair. The blonde bounced slightly with each jarring thrust of the dog’s hips driving into Linda from behind, her soft flesh cushioning Linda’s skull against the brutal rhythm vibrating through the earth. Linda felt the blonde’s ragged breaths puffing against the nape of her neck, the frantic flutter of her pulse beating against her scalp.
Twisting her head sideways against the yielding warmth of the blonde’s belly, Linda’s lips brushed the soft skin just above the girl’s pubic bone. She inhaled deeply � the scent wasn't merely sweat and fear; it was sharp ozone, damp earth crushed beneath knees, and underneath it all, a potent, musky sweetness radiating from the blonde’s exposed sex inches below her face. A raw hunger, primal and possessive, surged through Linda, bypassing thought. Her tongue snaked out instinctively, a thick, wet drag against the soft skin above the blonde’s slit. It tasted like salt and desperation. Then, shifting her weight against the dog’s pounding rhythm, Linda lowered her head. Her mouth found the blonde’s swollen clit, already slick and protruding slightly from its hood. Without hesitation, Linda closed her lips around it, sucking it in deeply, her tongue flattening against the hypersensitive nub with deliberate pressure. The blonde gasped, a high-pitched, startled sound, her hips jerking upwards involuntarily against Linda’s face. Linda sucked harder, feeling the tiny bud pulse against her tongue, her own arousal spiking violently � a sharp echo resonating from the cock pistoning deep inside her own core. This wasn't tenderness; it was claiming territory, tasting the terrified submission radiating from the trembling body beneath her.
Linda’s focus narrowed entirely to the slick heat pressed against her mouth. She sucked and licked frantically, her tongue swirling roughly around the blonde’s clit before plunging down into her entrance, tasting the girl’s thick wetness � a blend of fear-sweat and arousal. She felt the blonde’s inner muscles clench rhythmically against her probing tongue, heard the choked whimpers vibrating through the belly cushioning her head. Each frantic pull of her lips, each deep plunge of her tongue, seemed to fuel the beast mounting her from behind. His thrusts grew impossibly harder, faster, the knot at his base swelling against her stretched entrance with terrifying pressure, each inward slam driving Linda’s face harder against the blonde’s pussy. The thick shaft inside her felt impossibly hot, impossibly *full*, stretching her wider with each brutal stroke, dragging against her sensitive ridges with a friction that burned and electrified simultaneously. Her inner walls fluttered wildly, caught between resistance and desperate clenching, amplifying the raw scrape deep inside her womb.
Then Linda felt it shift � the thick cock buried within her pulsed violently, swelling wider, harder, becoming impossibly rigid deep in her core. It wasn't just filling her; it was *expanding*, stretching her inner walls to a searing, white-hot limit. She gasped against the blonde’s wetness, her own groan muffled by flesh as the canine cock seized inside her, locked by the immense knot pressing firmly against her swollen outer lips. For one suspended heartbeat, there was pure, agonizing pressure � a stretching, tearing sensation radiating deep into her pelvic bone. Then it erupted. A scalding torrent flooded her depths in thick, pulsing jets, each blast hotter than the last, flooding her womb with a searing wetness that felt like molten wax poured inside her. She cried out, the sound ripped from her throat and absorbed by the blonde’s trembling thighs, her hips bucking uncontrollably against the anchoring knot locked outside her entrance. The sensation wasn't mere pleasure; it was a profound violation that ignited a terrifying bloom of deep, resonant heat within her own core � an echo answering the beast’s brutal claim.
He shot a steady, hot stream of his seed into her. The force of it pulsed against her deepest recesses, each thick jet a branding iron searing her from within. Linda felt her own wetness mingling with the scalding flood, slicking the impossibly stretched passage. Miraculously, his swollen knot remained lodged firmly against her outer lips, unable to breach the stretched ring of muscle entirely, anchoring the thick shaft deep inside her as cum surged into her depths and spilled outward around the base of his trapped cock. Linda loved cum � the primal scent choking the air, the thick texture pooling hotly inside her womb, the raw evidence of possession. It felt so good shooting into her, the scalding pressure triggering involuntary ripples deep in her core that milked the pulsing shaft, drawing out more of that thick, hot seed, the sensation a terrifying counterpoint to the frantic licking of the blonde’s clit under her mouth. She moaned, a low, guttural sound vibrating against the blonde’s slick flesh, her body pinned between the beast’s brutal release and the frantic girl beneath her.
Linda slid her elbow grindingly over the scratchy wool blanket, straining against the dog’s anchoring weight still locked deep inside her. Her fingers, slick with sweat and the blonde’s juices, found the girl’s trembling thigh. With a grunt of effort, she pushed her arm further, the muscles in her shoulder protesting the awkward angle. Her knuckles bumped the blonde’s slick outer lips, then dipped lower. She managed to slide three fingers roughly into the blonde’s tight, wet pussy as she continued to lick and suck her clit. The girl gasped sharply, her hips bucking wildly against Linda’s face, her inner muscles instinctively clamping down on the invading digits. Linda fingered the blonde’s pussy like a lone cock fucking her � deep, forceful thrusts timed with the frantic swirls of her tongue against the hypersensitive nub, stretching the tight channel wide and fast.
It was all it took. The blonde’s hips tore upwards off the blanket in a violent spasm, pressing her slick slit hard against Linda’s mouth. A guttural cry tore from her throat, half-wail, half-sob. Her orgasm exploded, flooding Linda’s mouth with a sudden, scalding gush of thick, salty-sweet fluid. Linda sucked harder, swallowing greedily, feeling the girl’s clit pulse wildly against her tongue like a frantic heartbeat. The little girl shook violently beneath Linda’s head, her thighs trembling uncontrollably against Linda’s temples, her entire body arching like a bowstring pulled taut before snapping. Her cries dissolved into breathless whimpers as the orgasm tore through her, raw and convulsive, leaving her limp and shuddering on the scratchy wool.
The dog embedded deep inside Linda felt the blonde’s climax ripple through Linda’s own clenched muscles. With a low, rumbling groan that vibrated through Linda’s spine, his thick cock began to wilt inside her. The immense pressure of the knot pinning her entrance lessened abruptly. It slid free with a slick, wet pop, followed by his softening shaft. A hot rush of his thick seed mixed with her own juices spilled out onto the blanket beneath Linda’s knees, the sudden emptiness inside her cavernous and shocking. The heavy weight lifted off her back instantly, leaving her skin cold where his fur had been pressed.
Before Linda could react�before she could even draw a full breath�a shadow moved beside her. The smaller Pitbull, the one Linda had challenged over the blonde girl. He lunged onto Linda’s exposed back, his powerful legs straddling her hips, paws digging painfully into her trembling thighs. His coarse fur rasped against the sweat-slicked skin of her spine. She felt the hard, hot prodding of his thick cock pressing urgently against her lower back, sliding wetly downwards. He gave a low, impatient whine, his entire muscular frame quivering with pent-up frustration. He’d been denied his prize once; he wouldn’t wait again. His muzzle nudged Linda’s sweat-drenched hair aside, hot breath puffing against her neck as he slid the length of his cock into her pussy.
Linda knew what he would do when he jumped on her back and was braced for him. She arched her hips slightly upwards, presenting herself, feeling the slick remnants of his brother’s thick seed deep inside her mix with her own juices. He slid into her to the hilt instantly�a smooth, wet glide facilitated by the copious fluids already pooling there�and immediately started fucking her feverishly. His thrusts were shorter, faster, more frantic than his brother’s deep pistoning, driven by the pent-up aggression of his earlier denial. Full strokes pushing her forward with each thrust. Her breasts scraped against the scratchy wool blanket beneath her face with every forward shove, her elbows grinding into the rough weave. She still had lots of his brother's seed deep inside her and it made for the most erotic and wonderful feeling: a slippery, hot cushion against which this new cock hammered, amplifying every friction burn and stretch. The rhythmic slap of his lean hips against her ass cheeks echoed sharply, punctuated by his ragged panting.
She marveled as he did her how good it felt. Thicker and longer than a human cock and moving so fast. The sheer girth stretching her entrance wider with each inward surge, yet the slickness allowed it to glide with shocking ease. His frantic pace made her gasp; each rapid thrust ignited sparks deep in her womb, a counterpoint to the lingering ache from his brother’s knot. She moaned as he continued to hammer her and loved every second of his frantic performance�the raw urgency in his movements, the primal grunts vibrating through her spine, the sheer animalistic drive that bypassed thought and flooded her senses. She pressed her cheek harder against the blonde’s soft belly beneath her, inhaling the girl’s sharp scent of fear and arousal, grounding herself in the dual sensations: the cock filling her relentlessly from behind, and the yielding warmth cushioning her face.
The blonde laid spent beneath Linda’s head, her breathing shallow and ragged. Slowly, almost dreamily, the girl lifted trembling fingers towards her own glistening mound. She traced the slick folds lightly, hesitantly, before her fingertips found her swollen clit. She began to lick it slowly, savoring the mingled juices there�her own musk, Linda’s saliva, the faint metallic tang of fear. Her tongue moved with a tentative rhythm, as if rediscovering the sensation after the shock. As she licked, her other hand drifted upwards, fingers tangling gently in Linda’s sweat-damp hair where her head rested on the blonde’s belly�a soft, anchoring touch amidst the brutality behind them. The blonde thought she’d found a friend in Linda, this fierce, sweat-slicked woman mounted by beasts yet fiercely protective. Especially if she’d trained these magnificent animals to such savage precision, to obey her command, to share their brutal heat. The thought bloomed warm in her chest, mingling with the aftershocks of her own climax. She would visit her often, she decided silently. Not just for the thrill, but for this�to feel them inside her again, thick and demanding, while Linda claimed her with that same possessive hunger. The promise settled deep, a counterweight to the frantic slapping of hips against Linda’s ass.
The little blonde loved how Linda devoured her. She adored the raw hunger in the woman’s mouth�the way Linda’s lips sealed around her clit, sucking it deep, the rough swirl of her tongue flattening the hypersensitive bud before plunging down to taste her entrance. She loved how Linda’s fingers pushed inside her, stretching her wide, knuckles bumping against tender inner walls while her tongue flicked relentlessly against her swollen hood. It wasn’t gentle; it was frantic, demanding, a claiming. And she knew Linda had done this before. The precision was undeniable�the exact pressure on her clit that made her hips jerk, the angle of Linda’s fingers crooked just so against that spongy ridge deep inside her, triggering full-body tremors. She knew the exact spots to hit to drive her insane while eating her�the sudden scrape of teeth against her inner thigh that made her gasp, the pause where Linda’s breath ghosted hot over her wetness before diving back in, the way Linda’s thumb pressed hard against her perineum while two fingers pistoned deep, creating a delicious, unbearable pressure. Linda possessed a map of her body written in nerve endings, and she navigated it like a conqueror. The blonde arched, whimpering against Linda’s scalp, her own fingers faltering on her clit as Linda’s relentless assault reignited embers into a fresh blaze.
It was then that Linda felt the slight pressure against her pelvis and knew his knot was inside her. The Pitbull fucking her from behind drove deep, deeper than before, his frantic rhythm slowing abruptly. Not a pause, but a deliberate grind�the thickened base of his cock pressing firmly against her stretched entrance. She registered the subtle swell a heartbeat before it happened. Instinctively, she tried to pull forward, her elbows digging into the scratchy wool blanket beneath her face, but the knot expanded suddenly�a hot, hard intrusion ballooning against her outer lips, locking them together. He continued to grow, stretching her impossibly wider, the pressure radiating deep into her pelvic bone, a sensation that straddled pain and profound fullness. Trapped, he could only thrust a short distance inside her�shallow, grinding rocks that scraped his thick shaft against her sensitized inner walls, each movement tugging at the anchoring knot outside. The shallow friction was maddening, igniting sparks deep in her core where his brother’s seed still pooled thick and hot. It wouldn’t be long till he came, she thought, the certainty hitting her with the force of prophecy. And as the thought crossed her mind, he erupted inside her.
He was flooding her, jets of scalding cum pulsing deep into her already filled womb. Real pressure built instantly�a visceral, liquid tightness as his brother’s seed, still inside her, mixed violently with the fresh torrent. It was a profound feeling: all that cum already packed thick and heavy against her cervix, and now more squirting past it, hotter and thicker, forced deeper by the frantic pulse of his cock still buried to the hilt. His knot plugged her pussy tightly, a swollen cork trapping everything inside, amplifying the pressure until she felt swollen, stretched beyond capacity, each fresh spurt a branding iron searing her from within. Below her, muffled by the blonde’s trembling belly cushioning her head, Linda groaned�a low, guttural sound vibrating against slick skin�as her own inner muscles clenched reflexively, milking his pulsing shaft, drawing out more of that thick, possessive heat. The sensation wasn't just pleasure; it was obliteration.
The Pitbull jerked sharply, still locked deep inside her. Instinct drove him�a primal urge to twist, to face away from her vulnerable back, to protect his claim from rivals lurking in the shadowed clearing. He pivoted violently on his forepaws, his powerful haunches driving into her hips as he wrenched his body sideways. Linda cried out, her spine arching painfully: his cock, still fully embedded and swollen by the knot anchoring him to her, bent backwards inside her with the brutal motion. The thick shaft torqued unnaturally against her inner walls, grinding deep ridges against sensitive flesh already raw from the relentless friction. For one suspended, agonizing moment, she felt the impossible strain�her passage stretched taut around the sharp angle of his cock, the base of his knot pressing hard against her outer lips while the tip dug fiercely into her deepest recesses. The smaller dog faced away from her now, his panting muzzle aimed at the watching figures, but the two of them remained locked together, his bent cock buried backwards in her cunt, a grotesque, intimate tether. Hot breath puffed from his flanks against her lower back, his fur damp with her sweat.
Linda’s head pressed harder into the blonde’s soft belly, muffling her groan. She shifted her weight, bracing her elbow deeper into scratchy wool, and lifted her gaze. The blonde’s wide, startled eyes met hers from inches away. Sweat plastered strands of hair to the girl’s forehead; her lips were swollen and parted. Linda felt the shallow tremor running through the blonde’s belly beneath her cheek. "His knot, " Linda whispered, the words raw and thick against the damp skin. "It’s bent backwards... inside me. We're locked together." Her voice was barely audible, swallowed by the frantic panting of the dog and the cicadas’ drone. The blonde’s breath hitched. Her trembling fingers tightened in Linda’s hair�not pulling away, but anchoring. A flicker of understanding passed between them: this wasn't just mounting; it was possession forged in awkward, painful intimacy. The dog shifted again, restless, and Linda gasped as the knot pulsed against the strained ring of her entrance, sending fresh shockwaves through her pelvis.
The blonde’s expression shifted�fear dissolving into fierce determination. She looked directly into Linda’s eyes. "I can ease it, " she murmured, her voice surprisingly steady. "Till he goes down." She pushed herself up onto her elbows, dislodging Linda’s head from her belly. Moving with deliberate grace despite the trembling in her limbs, she crawled sideways over the crumpled blanket. Linda felt the cool air rush over her sweat-slicked back as the blonde settled beside her, lying on her side facing Linda’s exposed flank. The blonde’s warm breath ghosted across Linda’s ribs, then her lips closed�hot, wet�around Linda’s left nipple. She sucked hard, her tongue swirling the stiff peak rhythmically, counterpointing the frantic pulse trapped deep within Linda’s womb. Simultaneously, her hand slid down Linda’s trembling belly, fingers slick with their mingled fluids, and found Linda’s swollen clit. She didn’t tease; her fingertips pressed firmly, rubbing tight, rapid circles across the hypersensitive nub.
All this at once brought Linda to heights she’d never thought possible. The cock buried backwards inside her, locked deep and bent unnaturally against her inner walls, pulsed with the Pitbull’s panicked heartbeat. The pressure of his fluid�thick, hot, trapped by the knot anchoring him to her�flooded her womb with a liquid heat that felt like molten lead. The blonde’s mouth on her nipple pulled sensation downward in electric cords, connecting directly to the frantic friction building at her clit where the girl’s fingers raced across it with desperate precision. It was a wonderous thing�this convergence of violation and tenderness, pain and pleasure, stretching her nerves into a single screaming wire. Linda arched, a ragged gasp escaping her as the blonde’s teeth scraped lightly over her nipple while her fingers pressed harder, faster against her clit. Every nerve ending ignited simultaneously, burning away thought.
Linda exploded with an orgasm unlike any she’d ever experienced�a cataclysm that ripped through her in waves. Her entire body seized: hips bucking violently against the knot anchoring her to the dog, forcing the bent shaft deeper still; shoulders slammed down onto the scratchy wool blanket, her spine bowing off the ground; thighs trembling uncontrollably, toes curling inward until her arches cramped. Her fingers tore at the blanket beneath her, nails scraping the coarse fibers raw as she gripped it with desperate strength. A muffled scream tore from her throat, muffled only by the sheer force of the convulsion locking her jaw�a sound that vibrated deep within her chest like a trapped animal’s final cry. Her pelvis lifted, pushing her ass high into the air involuntarily, presenting the grotesque knot-lock binding her to the dog to the watching shadows. It was then, as her hips reached their zenith in the throes of release, that the Pitbull’s cock finally dislodged from her pussy�the swollen knot slipping free with a slick, wet *pop*. He scrambled backwards, panting heavily, leaving Linda suspended for one impossible moment before collapsing.
She landed heavily on her side, slick skin scraping against the blanket’s scratchy weave. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, lungs burning as if starved. Every muscle trembled with exhaustion; her legs felt like jelly. The sudden emptiness inside her was cavernous, echoed by a thick, warm rush of fluids�his seed mixed with hers�spilling onto the blanket beneath her thigh. The cool night air pricked her sweat-slicked skin, raising fresh goosebumps. Her mind was blank, a white-noise hum matching the cicadas’ drone. She didn’t register the blonde shifting beside her until she felt the soft, hesitant touch of fingers tracing the curve of her shoulder blade.
He lumbered closer�the larger dog, the one who had knotted her first. His massive head, fur damp and smelling of musk, pine, and her own scent, nudged against her cheekbone. Linda flinched instinctively, expecting aggression, but his rough tongue rasped across her temple instead�a slow, wet stripe that smoothed sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. The sensation was startlingly tender, almost apologetic: warm, coarse sandpaper against oversensitive skin. It soothed the sting where the blanket had abraded her cheek. He moved lower, licking the salty sweat from her jawline, then along the arch of her collarbone. His breath was hot and damp, puffing against her throat with each slow lap.
His brother joined him�the smaller Pitbull, still panting heavily beside her hip. The larger dog shifted his weight, pressing his broad shoulder against Linda’s side as he lowered his head to her chest. Simultaneously, the smaller dog nudged her thigh aside and lowered his muzzle to her other breast. Together, they began to lick. Their tongues were broad, flat rasps against her skin, working with focused, unhurried diligence. They licked their way down her body, stopping deliberately at her breasts�one on each side. Their tongues circled her stiffened nipples, rough pads scraping the sensitive peaks rhythmically before taking each entire mound into the warm, wet heat of their mouths, sucking gently. They licked thoroughly, taking in the mingled flavors: the sharp tang of her sweat, the musky sweetness of her arousal, the faint metallic bite of fear�and yes, the lingering, smoky savor of bacon grease from Rich’s earlier snack still faintly clinging to her skin after their frantic coupling against the car. It was a deliberate, unhurried tasting�a primal savoring. Like a huge thank you for the wonderful, brutal sex they’d shared with her.
The larger dog moved lower, his tongue tracing the trembling dip of her navel before traveling down the ridge of her pelvic bone. The smaller dog followed, his muzzle dipping between her splayed thighs. They worked together, tongues moving in broad, overlapping strokes across her abdomen, her hips, the soft swell of her belly�lapping away the sticky trails of semen, sweat, and her own slickness clinging to her skin. The sensation was rough yet soothing; coarse sandpaper scouring away the residue of their shared violation. They licked the inside curves of her thighs, cleaning away the evidence of the blonde’s frantic fingers and Linda’s own wetness. They licked the sensitive skin where her legs met her torso, their tongues rasping against the ticklish hollows, making her gasp softly as involuntary tremors ran through her exhausted muscles. It was thorough, almost reverent�an instinctive ritual of post-coital hygiene performed with unexpected tenderness. Like they were grooming a pack mate after a hunt.
Linda lay utterly still, her body a limp map for their tongues. She stared past the halo of the work lights into the velvet blackness above. Stars, sharp and cold, pierced the humid sky�Pinpricks of ancient light indifferent to the sweat, seed, and saliva being scoured from her skin below. The rasp of canine tongues against her flesh became a hypnotic rhythm, drowning out the cicadas’ drone. She felt the cool night air kiss newly cleaned patches of skin, raising goosebumps wherever their rough warmth retreated. The blonde remained pressed against her side, a soft anchor, her fingers still tangled loosely in Linda’s hair. The scent of damp earth and pine resin washed over her, cleaner now, as if the dogs’ ministrations were purifying not just her, but the charged space around them. She felt hollowed out, scoured clean inside and out�a vessel emptied.
The cameras still rolled, their red lights unwavering eyes in the gloom. Rich hadn’t moved from his perch by the sedan’s fender. Linda knew he was watching the feed intently, studying the high-definition capture of her spent body being methodically cleaned by the animals who had just claimed her. She wanted to see it too�every minute. She craved the jarring disconnect of witnessing her own sprawled form, the tremors still flickering through her thigh muscles, the blonde’s possessive hand resting on her scalp, and the powerful heads bowed over her belly and thighs, tongues working with primal diligence. She wanted to see the playback of the moment the larger dog’s knot had locked inside her backwards, the impossible angle of his thrusting hips, her own arched scream frozen on screen. More than anything, she yearned to see the footage of the two gorgeous dogs doing her�her frantic movements shaking beneath them, humping backwards against the smaller dog’s knotting cock while simultaneously pushing her hips up to meet the larger dog’s deep, grinding invasion. That raw, animal coupling, captured frame by frame, promised a truth far more potent than any human touch could offer tonight.
The cleaning was unhurried, almost ceremonial. The larger Pitbull finished lapping the hollows of Linda’s hips, his broad tongue surprisingly soft against oversensitive skin. He nudged her gently onto her side to reach the curve of her lower back, his rasping strokes removing the last traces of sweat and semen. The smaller dog lingered between her legs, his tongue delving briefly into her swollen entrance, tasting himself and his brother mingled with her essence�a quick, possessive swipe that sent a fresh, involuntary shiver through her core. Satisfied, they both nuzzled her hip and flank, their damp fur warm against her cleaned skin, before retreating a few steps to settle in the crushed weeds nearby, panting softly. Their dark eyes watched her, alert and oddly protective.
Linda sat up slowly, her muscles protesting like old hinges. The blonde remained beside her, propped on one elbow. Her gaze was steady, unreadable in the dim work lights�a mix of exhaustion, awe, and something sharper, hungrier. Without speaking, she reached out, her fingers brushing Linda’s bare shoulder. Then, deliberately, she pressed a crumpled slip of paper into Linda’s palm. The edges were soft, damp from the girl’s sweat. "Call me, " she murmured, her voice raspy but clear. Her thumb traced Linda’s lower lip, lingering on the slight swell where Linda had bitten it raw. "I need to feel these lips again." Her eyes flickered downward, then back up, holding Linda’s with fierce intensity. "Everywhere."
The blonde pushed herself upright, her movements fluid despite the trembling in her legs. She scanned the clearing�Rich adjusting camera angles, the Pitbulls panting quietly in the weeds, the lingering shadows melting back into the trees. "I want that too, " she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the cicadas' drone. Linda froze, the paper crumpling tighter in her fist. The blonde didn't elaborate. Instead, she leaned down, her breath hot against Linda’s ear. "What he filmed? When they took you?" Her lips brushed Linda’s earlobe, sending a shiver down Linda’s spine. "I want to watch it with you. Alone." She paused, letting the implication hang�heavy, humid. "After."
Linda’s gaze snapped to Rich, still engrossed in the camera feed. The blonde followed her look and smirked. "He won’t care, " she murmured, fingers tracing the sweat-damp hollow of Linda’s throat. Her touch was proprietary, anchoring. "He got his trophy." The blonde’s thumb pressed lightly against Linda’s pulse point, feeling the frantic flutter beneath skin still hypersensitive from the dogs’ tongues. "But *you*... you felt it." Her voice dropped lower. "That knot bending you open backwards? That *pop* when it tore free?" Linda’s breath hitched�a visceral echo of the sensation. The blonde’s eyes darkened. "I want to see it again. Frame by frame. With you trembling beside me." Her fingers slid lower, ghosting over Linda’s collarbone. "I want your skin against mine when you watch yourself beg." The promise wasn't gentle; it was a claim staked in shared wreckage.
The blonde stood abruptly, her silhouette sharp against the sedan’s headlights. She didn’t glance back at Rich or the cameras. Instead, she turned toward the deeper woods where shadows pooled thick as tar. "My place, " she said over her shoulder, the words a command. "Tomorrow night." She paused, letting the cicadas fill the silence. Then, with deliberate slowness, she bent to gather two leather leashes coiled in the weeds. The Pitbulls rose instantly, muscles rippling beneath short coats still damp from exertion. They flanked her, their dark eyes fixed on Linda with unnerving intensity. The blonde’s smirk returned, edged with triumph. "My two boys and I will be waiting for you." She ran a hand along the larger dog’s powerful neck. "I really think they like you." Her gaze dropped pointedly to the sticky mess cooling on Linda’s inner thighs. "They like your pussy anyway." The smirk widened as she gathered the leashes tight. Without another word, she led them away�the dogs falling into step beside her, their movements synchronized, primal, swallowed by the trees.
Rich finally stirred, peeling himself from the car’s fender. He padded across the crushed weeds, his boots whispering against the damp earth. He stopped beside Linda, his shadow falling across her sprawled form. The harsh work lights caught the gleam of his teeth as he smiled�not warmth, but satisfaction etched in every line. "Did you enjoy tonight?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. His thumb brushed a smear of drying semen from her hipbone; the touch was clinical, possessive. Linda didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the spot where the blonde and the dogs had vanished�a void in the pines. Her skin still tingled with the phantom rasp of tongues, the deep ache of stretched muscles, the impossible torque of that backward knot.
Linda pushed herself upright, ignoring the tremor in her arms. Cool air washed over her sticky thighs, raising fresh goosebumps. She reached for her discarded shorts, the denim stiff with dried sweat and dew. Her fingers brushed the crumpled slip of paper tucked inside the pocket�soft edges damp against her knuckle. As she gathered her clothes, a slow smile touched her lips�a private curve that didn’t reach her eyes. Rich watched her, his gaze sharp, assessing. "What?" he demanded, the word clipped.
"More than you'll ever know." was all she said.