For parts 1 - 4, find them here: https://old.reddit.com/r/sexstories/comments/1dokv8d/annas_story_part_1_beastcanineknotty/ https://old.reddit.com/r/sexstories/comments/1dyk5wp/annas_story_part_2_beastcanineknotty_rape/ https://old.reddit.com/r/sexstories/comments/1e47gsf/annas_story_3_4_beastcanineknotty_rape_female/

The shrill whistle was a sound that almost bore a hole through the desolation of the air, and Anna was yanked from the depths of restless sleep. Her eyes sprang open as she inhaled sharply; the echo of metal clanging against the bars resounded through the cramped space. From the dim light, she barely distinguishes the silhouette of a bowl being banged against the cage that had become her grim reality.

One by one, Anna's senses returned to her. She was still naked; her bare skin rose gooseflesh against the chill seeping into her bones. Although it was degradation in and of itself, she felt a small measure of relief at noticing two bowls placed within reach—one filled with water, another with some kind of dry kibble. Her stomach churned at both the indignity of the situation and the gnawing hunger clawing at her insides.

Anna turned slowly toward the bowls, her skin pressing against the cold floor of the cage, as if to remind her of just how harsh the captivity was. Though stale, the water was drinkable, and she lapped at it with abandon, its touch a balm to her throat. The kibble was unappealing, but it was sustenance nonetheless; survival instinct overrode the humiliation of eating from an animal dish.

The flat, crunching pieces in her teeth reminded her of her vulnerability in that second of human needs—something she would have to put up with until she found ways of salvaging her dignity and freedom.

Anna's arms instinctively crossed over her chest, trying to preserve the last shreds of her modesty. Everywhere around her, she could hear laughter, tinnishly resounding off the cold, metallic walls, cutting through the air into which she flinched with every biting remark that followed.

"Look at her, all nice and hidden, like we care to see her flesh," one of the captors jeered, lacing his words with disdain.

"An animal has no shame," another added, his voice a cruel taunt in the dimly lit room. "Why bother covering up?"

Each barb was a verbal lash, stripping away her humanity as effectively as the clothes torn from her body.

Anna flushed as the men laughed at her, their words cutting into her like a knife. They walked around the sides of the cage, taunting her, making lewd comments about her body. She felt naked and helpless with all those eyes snooping over every inch of her skin. It was violation from which she couldn't get away—trapped in this small cage with no place to hide from those prying eyes.

Though feeling the humiliation and fear well up inside her, Anna refused to yield to weakness. She pulled back up straight again, raising her chin defiantly while she met their gazes with steely eyes.

"I am not an animal," she declared, loud and bold, though her voice was still shaking.

They laughed again, with raised sneers and words that seemed to cut down her defiance. But it didn't affect Anna at all. She would not let them crawl inside her brain.

"Fine words for a caged animal," one of them spat, malice in the tone.

"You will learn soon enough what you are," another said darkly.

Anna's heart began to race as she tried to make sense of the cryptic words. What were they saying? What were they planning to do with her?

"Enough games," ordered the first voice.

Anna felt a shiver run down her spine as clinking metal drew near. She didn't need any sight to know whatever was coming next; the sound itself was enough to trigger a deep-seated fear.

A hand closed around her neck, fingers very cold, not yielding. Something pressed against her skin, heavy in the weight of a collar, then clicked shut—its presence foreign and suffocating. Anna's breath hitched as the urge to resist welled up inside her, but she knew better than to provoke them further.

"Try anything funny," the man warned in a soft, threatening tone, "and you'll get more than just a shock."

His words hung heavy in the air, and Anna's fingers felt the small device attached to the collar. A shock collar, she realized, a tool for obedience, an apparent message that she was no more than property to be controlled.

Her body tensed up, bracing for what was obviously to come: the display of strength to which she knew she was to be put through. But even braced for pain, she refused to let her spirit break, with her mind fiercely clinging to a sliver of hope that this humiliation would not be the end of her story.

A loud crackling, then searing pain, shot through Anna's body as the electricity hit her. She cried out in agony as it surged, her muscles convulsing. Anna's body trembled, willful gasps for breath as she tried to banish the pain that lingered within her limbs. She felt so weak and vulnerable, reduced to nothing more than a plaything for these cruel men to use and abuse.

"Let that be a lesson," one of the men sneered and pressed the button on the remote control. Her bladder emptied as she released herself from the pain, passing out.

The cold steel of the scissors slid against Anna's scalp, bringing her around for the second time that day. It was a rude parody of a hairdresser's touch. Strands of her once-lustrous hair fell, wilting like petals, around her; their severing an ominous snip in the still air. The captor's hands were rough, unpracticed, in the way they sheared off her locks with no regard for gentleness or precision.

"Still as a statue," he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion. "Wouldn't want to nick that pretty skin of yours."

Anna clenched her jaw, forcing back the tears that threatened to betray her defiance. Every lock shorn away was a part of her identity, tossed carelessly on the cold, hard floor like refuse. A blanket of humiliation threatened to smother her spirit, but underneath it, a fierce indignation simmered.

"Can't have you spreading fleas like some mangy mutt," now she recognized him as old man Greg taking jeers at her, though Anna felt nothing akin to amusement.

As the last of her hair came, she felt, for the first time, the stinging sense of vulnerability. Yet, there was no time to weep for her desecrated crown, for the razor was next: scraping gratingly against her skin as it wrenched off the last vestiges of her former self.

"Smooth as a newborn now," said the captor, a hollow note of satisfaction in his tone.

Anna's skin crawled under their scrutinizing gaze, her mind now a barren landscape. She comforted herself in silent vows of vengeance, though her eyes betrayed none of her inner turmoil.

Before long, Old Man Greg put his tools away, his shadow looming over her, a grotesque grin etched into his weathered features. He regarded Anna not as a person but as an object, something to use and discard at his whim, with a hunger in his rheumy eyes.

His calloused hands moved all over her body, like paws on her skin. Anna's breath hitched in her throat as she closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out thoughts of his wrinkled, veiny arms wrapping around her slim waist and squeezing too tight.

The foul odor of his breath wafted in her face as he carelessly pawed at her. She had been shaved, treated like a dog, and now she was being violated by the very man who had taken her dignity away. He bent her over, positioning himself behind her. He spat on his hand, rubbed it on his girthy cock, and let it slide inside her.

He grunted and groaned as he plugged into her relentlessly, digging his rough hands into her flesh. The sound of their bodies slapping together was just sickening, but it seemed to drive him further. Grunts grew louder, more frequent, as his sweat dripped down onto her face from the exertion in taking what he wanted.

His hands moved down to her hips, which he grasped roughly as he surged into her. She could feel every inch of him, and that was almost too much to be endured.

Something began to shift, then. She knew that twinge, that spark that threatened to burst into life. She pushed back as hard as she could, but it was too late. She felt it now—that light, like the start of a fire sweeping through a body.

Old Man Greg must have felt it too, for he began to slow down, relishing the moment when he pulled her closer and closer to the edge. She bit into her lip, trying to keep the moans that were ready to spill from her lips.

He grunted and groaned, his voice low and guttural as he finally reached his climax. Her insides could feel him pulsing—the warmth spreading through her body. It was disgusting, but there was no denying the pleasure that came with it.

As he pulled out of her, she collapsed onto the floor, spent and humiliated. She could feel his semen dripping down her legs, reminding her of what had happened.

But then, even as she lay there, she couldn't help but realize that some sort of satisfaction washed over her. It was wrong, it was twisted, and there was no denying that the pleasure Old Man Greg had just given her was real.

In the bright light of the room, she could feel he was getting hard again. He peered down at her; a subliminal evil spark in his eye.

"Looks like you have enjoyed that, my little animal," he sneered.

She would not respond, but she knew he was right. Much to the hate of admitting it, she knew he would do it again.

As Old Man Greg moved, with repulsive eagerness, Anna retreated within herself, her mind clawing for sanctuary in memories untouched by this defilement. She'd endure, survive, and one day reclaim the life that was so ruthlessly stripped from her. This wasn't her end—only the dark before the dawn of her retribution.

Next thing she knew he was returning back to her cage with another animal friend, but this time it wasn't one of the canines.