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Ellie crouched low in the shadows of the flooded market district, the cold Seattle rain mixing with the brackish water lapping at her boots. Her tattooed arm ached from the constant strain of gripping her switchblade, but she pushed it down, focusing on the map scratched into her journal. Abby was close, she could feel it, that bitch's trail leading through these WLF-infested canals. At nineteen, Ellie had shed the wide-eyed kid from Jackson; trauma had carved her into something sharper, meaner, a coiled spring of grief and rage. Her lean, athletic frame, all wiry muscle under faded jeans and a worn green jacket, moved like a ghost through the ruins, her freckled face set in a perpetual scowl, green eyes scanning for threats. She was smaller than most WLF goons, but she'd dropped enough of them to know size didn't matter when you fought dirty.
A low growl rippled through the mist-shrouded air, freezing her mid-step. Ellie whipped around, heart slamming against her ribs. There, emerging from a half-submerged storefront, was Bear, the massive mixed-breed dog from the WLF patrols. Brown and white fur matted with grime, he was built like a tank, easily twice her weight, muscles rippling under that coat as his ears perked and yellow eyes locked on her. She'd heard the radio chatter about him before, guarding the flooded zones against Seraphites, loyal as hell to his handler and WLF members. Shit. She bolted, splashing through the knee-deep water, her backpack thumping against her back.
Bear exploded after her, paws churning the water into froth, his bark echoing off the concrete husks like thunder. Ellie vaulted a rusted car hood, her breath coming in sharp bursts, mind racing through escape routes. The chase twisted through narrow alleys choked with debris, her boots slipping on algae-slick rebar. She could hear him gaining, that relentless pursuit, and then the handler's voice cut through the din. "Bear! Good boy, fetch that fuckin' trespasser!"
She risked a glance back. The handler was a burly WLF soldier in his late 20s she assumed, buzzed head under a rain-slicked cap, scarred face twisted in a grin, AK slung over his shoulder. Name tag read "Milo," standard-issue gear bulging over his stocky frame. He was pounding after the dog, boots splashing heavy. Ellie drew her pistol, firing wild over her shoulder, but Bear lunged, jaws clamping onto her calf through her jeans. Pain exploded up her leg as she went down hard with her gun, water surging around her. through the pain she aimed her gun at the dog *Click click* Empty mag! She twisted, knife out to stab the dog, but Milo was on her in seconds, boot pinning her knife arm while he wrenched the pistol from her grip.
"Gotcha, little rat," Milo snarled, his voice gravelly with that Seattle edge, breath reeking of stale rations. He zip-tied her wrists behind her back with practiced efficiency, then hauled her up by the collar of her jacket. Bear released her leg, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling as he circled her, sniffing aggressively at her body. Ellie spat in Milo's face, thrashing against his hold. "Fuck you, you WLF piece of shit! Let me go or I'll gut you."
“Gut me? With what exactly?” Milo wiped the spit off with a chuckle, slamming her against a graffiti-covered wall. The impact jarred her body, but she glared up at him, blood trickling from a split lip. He patted Bear's head, the dog leaning into it eagerly. "Nah, you're Seraphite scum I bet. Patrol's been light on action today but I think Bear here's earned a treat for sniffin' you out." He stripped her weapons methodically: knife from her boot, shiv from her sleeve, even the pipe bomb components from her pack, before tossing it over his own shoulder with his own pack. Ellie bucked and cursed, her smaller body no match for his bulk as he shoved her face-first into the shallow water, knee grinding into her back.
"Get off me, asshole!" she growled, voice muffled by the flood. Bear nosed at her ass, hot breath soaking through her jeans, making her stomach twist in revulsion. Milo yanked her jacket off, tossing it aside, then ripped her flannel shirt open, buttons scattering into the murk. Her sports bra clung to her modest breasts, pale skin goosebumping in the chill. "What the fuck are you doing? You touch me and I'll kill you slow."
He laughed, a low, ugly sound, flipping her onto her back and pinning her thighs with his weight. Bear watched intently, whining with excitement. "Don't worry it won't be me. Bear loves rewards after a good catch. Bit a few cult freaks before, but you're fresh meat. Prime, even." His hands were rough, callused from years of patrols, tearing at her belt and jeans zipper. Ellie kicked wildly, connecting with his ribs, but he just grunted and punched her in the gut, knocking the wind from her. She gasped, vision blurring, as he peeled her jeans down her kicking legs, exposing her black boxers and the tattoo snaking up her arm. Trying in vain to break the zip ties that kept her wrist and hands behind her back.
"Fuck... you... psycho," she wheezed, tears of rage stinging her eyes, but her body betrayed her with shivers from the cold water lapping at her bare thighs. Milo dragged her boxers down too, leaving her completely naked from the waist down, her trimmed bush and tight firm ass on display in the dim light filtering through the clouds. Bear's nose dove right in, snuffling her pussy with wet, insistent snorts, his rough tongue flicking out to lap at her folds. Ellie jerked, a humiliated yelp escaping her. "No! Get that mutt off me!"
Milo hauled Bear back by the collar just enough to unzip his own pants, but no, he wasn't joining in. This was the dog's prize. "Easy, boy. All yours." He positioned Ellie on her knees in the shallow water, her tied wrists straining behind her, face pressed into the muck. Bear mounted her immediately, massive paws scrabbling over her back, his red rocket unsheathing, thick and veined, dripping pre-cum as it prodded her ass cheeks. Ellie screamed, bucking to try and throw him off. "Stop! Fuck, get it away!"
Bear’s pace quickened, his panting breaths becoming ragged growls that rumbled from his chest directly into her back. His tongue lolled out, dripping saliva onto her shoulder. Ellie could feel the knot at the base of his shaft swelling, a bulb of impossible pressure. With a final, deep, grinding lunge, it popped past her tight entrance and locked inside her, tying them together. The sensation was overwhelming a feeling of being impossibly full, stretched to her absolute limit, plugged and claimed. A broken wail tore from her lips.
“Fuck… fuck…” she moaned, her head dropping forward. Her breasts, swaying with each of Bear’s shallow, insistent thrusts, were peaked with hard, tight nipples. The freckles across her chest and shoulders stood out against her flushed skin. The dog was locked now, his hips making small, urgent circles as he began to ejaculate. She felt the hot, pulsing jets of his cum flooding deep inside her, an intimate violation that made her stomach clench.
And despite her hatred, despite the horror, the relentless stimulation against her walls and clit pushed her over an edge she couldn’t resist. Her body convulsed in a powerful, wrenching orgasm that ripped through her, a guttural, despairing moan escaping as her inner muscles clenched and milked the dog’s cock of every last drop. It was a pleasure that felt like poison, a physical betrayal that shattered what little composure she had left.
As she hung there, shuddering through the aftershocks, Bear finally stilled, panting heavily atop her, his weight a constant, degrading pressure. Milo, who had been watching the entire spectacle with rapt, grunting attention, stepped closer. His own arousal was at its peak.
“Good boy, Bear. Real good job,” he panted. He positioned himself in front of Ellie’s face. Her vision was blurred with tears and rain, but she could see him, his expression one of grotesque ecstasy. “Open wide, spy. You don’t get to be left out.”
He already had his cock in his hand and with a few rough strokes, he came. Thick, white streaks jetted across her face, hot and salty, splattering over her closed eyes, her cheeks, her lips. She flinched wishing that his dick was closer so she could bite it off. She tried turning her head away, but he followed her, painting her facial features with his release until it dripped down her chin and cheeks, mixing with the rain and her tears. The smell of it, musky and alien, filled her nostrils.
He sighed, satisfied, and tucked himself away. Only then did he wait for Bear’s knot to deflate. After several long, agonizing minutes where Ellie could only hang, filled with dog cum and humiliation, the swelling subsided enough for Milo to pull the dog off her. The withdrawal was a wet, sloppy release, followed by a gush of Bear’s seed, thick and copious, spilling out of her abused pussy and down her thighs in viscous ropes, mixing with the rainwater at her feet.
Ellie sagged against her bonds, utterly spent, her body trembling with exhaustion, cold, and shock. Milo didn’t bother untying her wrists. He simply tied her ankles tightly with a length of rope, and threw a coarse, damp tarp over her naked, shivering form so she couldn't see where they were headed. He gathered her weapons and his gear, slinging it over his shoulder.
“Patrol’s over, boy. We’ll drop this little present at camp for interrogation. Let the Lieutenants have their fun with her.”
He led Bear away while roughly pulling her along from her ankles by the rope; the ground digging into her back was nothing compared to what she went through minutes ago, the dog’s nails clicking on the pavement before fading into the sound of the rain as he dragged her. The physical pain was a symphony of fire and ache. The feeling of violation was a stain that seemed to seep into her very bones, heavier than the tarp, colder than the rain. She could still smell them both on her skin, in her hair, inside her.
A slow, familiar heat began to burn in the pit of her stomach, cutting through the numbness. It wasn’t pleasure. It was fury. A pure, undiluted, and vengeful fire. She'd remember Milo’s face. She pictured Bear’s eager panting. She pictured every WLF soldier in their camp. Her lips, crusted with drying semen, peeled back from her teeth in a silent, savage snarl, still struggling in the binds. “Ill knock you out if you keep squirming.”
“Fuck you…” She muttered, she would escape. She would find a way. And when she did, she would kill them. She would kill every last one of them. The degradation was just another log on the pyre, another scar on her soul to fuel the blaze. For now, she endured, the weight of what happened clinging to her far more persistently than the Seattle rain she was currently being dragged through…