The dog's tongue found the fresh coat of peanut butter, broad and rough, dragging across the stretched rim of her in one long, greedy stroke. Nisha gasped, her fingers curling into the rug, her hips pushing back into that wet heat. The sensation shot through her, electric, a jolt that made her thighs tremble and her breath catch in her throat.

"That's it," she whispered, her voice hoarse, broken. "Eat it, boy. Eat it all."

The dog's muzzle pressed harder between her spread cheeks, its tongue working deeper, lapping at the slick mess she had smeared there. The peanut butter was sweet and salty on its breath, and she could feel its saliva mixing with the oil, making everything slicker, looser, more ready. She closed her eyes and let herself feel it — the wet heat of its mouth against the most private part of her, the way its nose nudged and pressed, the sound of its greedy lapping filling the barn.

She thought of the camera behind her, the red light blinking steady in the corner of her eye. She thought of the men watching on their screens, their breath held, their hands moving over themselves as they watched her offer herself to an animal. The thought should have shamed her. It didn't. It made her hotter, wetter, more desperate for what was coming.

"Come on, boy," she coaxed, reaching back with one hand, her fingers finding the dog's cock, slick and half-hard, throbbing against her palm. She stroked it, feeling it swell and stiffen at her touch, feeling the pulse of its blood under the hot skin. "Come on, take me again. I know you want it."

The dog whined, its tongue still working at her, and she felt its cock jump in her grip, growing harder, thicker. She guided it to her hole, pressing the slick head against the stretched rim, and she held herself still, waiting, her breath shaking in her chest.

"That's it," she breathed. "That's it, boy. Put it in. Fill me up."

The dog's front legs locked over her hips, its weight settling onto her back, and it thrust in one heavy stroke, burying itself to the root. Nisha cried out, her fingers clawing at the rug, her body arching into the fullness. The stretch was exquisite, a burn that melted into pleasure as the dog's cock filled her completely, reaching deeper than any man ever had, pressing against places she didn't know she had.

"Oh — oh, fuck," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Yes, yes, that's it, that's so good."

The dog began to move, its hips pumping against her, its weight heavy and solid on her back. Each thrust drove deeper, harder, the rhythm building fast and relentless. The sound of it filled the barn — the wet slap of skin, the creak of the planks beneath them, the dog's low, rhythmic grunts. Nisha let herself be taken, her hips rocking back to meet each thrust, her body surrendering completely to the animal's need.

"Yes," she sobbed, her voice raw. "Yes, take me, take me, don't stop."

The dog's knot began to swell, the base of its cock thickening inside her, catching on her rim with each stroke. Nisha felt it, the growing pressure, the way it stretched her wider, held her tighter, and she moaned, her body clenching around it, trying to pull it deeper.

"That's it," she whispered. "That's it, boy, knot me, knot me up."

The dog's thrusts grew shorter, faster, its weight pressing her down into the rug as the knot swelled fully, locking them together. Nisha cried out as it caught, the stretch so intense it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was brighter, hotter, drowning everything else. She could feel the dog's cock pulsing inside her, feel the pressure building, and she knew what was coming.

"Fill me," she begged, her voice cracking. "Please, fill me up."

The first hot pulse of seed hit her, and Nisha screamed. It was more than she remembered, more than the pig, more than anything — a flood of heat that seemed to go on forever, filling her, swelling her belly, spilling out around the knot. She came with it, her body convulsing, her cunt — no, her ass, she reminded herself, she didn't have a cunt — clenching around the dog's cock, milking it, drawing out every drop.

"Yes," she sobbed, her voice broken. "Yes, fill me, fill me up. Don't stop, don't stop, please."

The dog kept coming, its seed pumping into her in wave after wave, and Nisha lost herself in it. She was just a body now, a warm, willing place for the animal to fill, and for this one, perfect moment, that was enough. She thought of the camera, the red light blinking, the men watching, the lakhs climbing in her account, and she smiled a small, broken smile.

"That's it," she whispered. "That's it, boy. Good boy. Good boy."

The dog's thrusts slowed, its weight settling fully onto her, its knot still locked inside her, holding them together. Nisha lay beneath it, panting, her body trembling, her belly swollen and heavy with its seed. She could feel it leaking out around the knot, hot and slick against her thighs, and she didn't move, didn't want to move. She just lay there, pinned, full, complete, and she let herself feel it.

The sunbeam had shifted, the dusty light now falling across her back, warming her skin. The barn smelled of hay and dust and sex, and she breathed it in, letting it fill her lungs. She thought of her husband, his burn-scarred hands weighing rice at the shop, his trusting face when she brought him tea. She thought of the sindur line on her forehead, the mark of a wife, and she felt the weight of it like a brand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, though she didn't know who she was apologizing to. Her husband. Her mother. Herself. Maybe all of them.

The dog's knot began to soften, and she felt it slip free, the seed spilling out of her in a warm rush. She lay there for a long moment, her body aching, her belly heavy, and then she pushed herself up, her arms shaking, her knees raw against the rug.

The camera's red light was still blinking. The ring light hummed. The dog stood over her, its tongue lolling, its cock slowly softening, slick with her and its own seed.

Nisha reached for the jar of peanut butter, unscrewed the lid, and scooped out another handful. She smeared it over her raw, stretched hole, her fingers trembling, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Come on, boy," she whispered, her voice a soft, singsong coo. "Come on. I know you want more. I know you do."

She lowered herself back down, her hips raised, her knees spread, and she waited, open and hungry, for the dog to take her once more.

The dog's nose hovered at her slicked rim, its breath hot and quick against the fresh coat, and she felt the first broad lick drag up through the peanut butter, slow, deliberate, savoring. The wet heat of its tongue against the raw, stretched flesh made her gasp, her hips pushing back into that pressure, chasing it. She closed her eyes and let the sensation fill her — the rough drag of its papillae against her opening, the wet sounds filling the quiet barn, the way its muzzle pressed and nuzzled like it was tasting something precious.

"That's it, boy," she breathed, her voice a thread. "Lick it clean. Lick me clean."

Her hand found its cock again, slick and half-hard against her palm, and she stroked it slow, feeling the pulse of blood under the hot skin, the way it swelled and stiffened at her touch. The dog whined against her, its tongue still working, and she felt the head thicken in her grip, growing harder, more urgent. She guided it lower, pressing the slick crown against her stretched hole, and she held still, her breath shaking in her chest, waiting for the weight she knew was coming.

The weight came. Not the way it had before, not that first shy, testing press — this time the dog's front legs locked over her hips and it drove in with a single, committed stroke, burying itself to the root in one wet, obscene slide. Nisha's whole body bowed, her forehead dropping to the rug, a cry tearing out of her that she couldn't shape into a word. The fullness was immediate and absolute, the stretch so deep it rearranged her, and she felt her ass clench around the invading heat, trying to hold it, keep it, milk it.

"Oh god," she gasped, the words muffled against the wool. "Oh god, yes, yes, just like that."

The dog didn't pause. It had learned her now, learned the rhythm she liked, and it set to work with a steady, grinding pace that rocked her forward onto her palms. Each thrust drove its knot against her rim, a blunt pressure that promised more, and she found herself pushing back into it, chasing that promise, her fingers curling into the rug's worn fibers. The peanut butter had gone slick and warm, and the wet sounds of their joining filled the barn, obscene and honest, mixing with the dog's low, rhythmic grunts and her own broken breathing.

"That's it," she whispered, her voice raw. "That's it, boy, fuck me, fuck me deep."

She reached back with one hand, not to guide him, but to feel — her fingers finding the thick base of his cock where it stretched her, feeling the pulse of his blood through the hot skin, feeling the knot beginning to swell. The sensation of it, the sheer size of what was inside her, made her dizzy. She was so full, so completely taken, and the thought of it — the thought of the camera catching every inch of this, of the men watching her split open on an animal's cock — sent a fresh wave of heat through her, making her wetter, looser, more desperate.

"Come on," she sobbed, her hips rocking back to meet his thrusts. "Come on, knot me, knot me up, I want it, I want it all."

The dog's pace quickened, its weight pressing her down into the rug, its breath hot and ragged against her neck. She could feel its excitement building, feel the knot thickening inside her with every stroke, and she knew what was coming. She braced herself, her knees digging into the planks, her hands flat on the rug, and she let him take her, let him use her, let him fill her until there was nothing left of her but this — this perfect, animal surrender.

The knot caught. It swelled to its full, impossible size and locked inside her, and Nisha screamed — a raw, guttural sound that was half pain, half ecstasy. The stretch was blinding, a white-hot burn that radiated through her pelvis, but beneath it, deeper, was a pleasure so intense it stole her breath. She was pinned, impaled, completely at his mercy, and the knowledge of it made her clench around him, drawing him deeper, begging without words for what she knew was coming.

"Fill me," she choked, her voice cracking. "Please, please, fill me up."