Betty's besties

The next weekend, reminded and directed by Shannon, Laura took a few more extra pictures, this time especially during the preparation. Betty was a bit surprised but then delved into it as a spicey foreplay and a gift to her kindest bestie. Now they had enough spicy pictures of her best parts -mostly her tits, ass, and pussy, in different combination with other slender body parts and each other, almost everything credible for a tribute of Brian. That would do for weeks and months to come, besides ample opportunities to take more.

The trio returned to the same secluded path, the air moist and the forest alive with the rustle of falling leaves. Betty was in her full gear—locked paw mitts, knee pads, collar, and the large ring-gag, her drool glistening in the sunlight. Their walk was interrupted by Laura and Shannon setting Betty’s phone down to take a few pictures of a nice forest exploration with friends for her social media, with the actual pup out of view.

After that taken care of, they moved with purpose, their confidence bolstered by Betty’s reluctant but clear consent. As they heard Brutus’s familiar bark, Betty’s heart raced, her body already tingling with anticipation.

Dave appeared, Brutus trotting freely at his side, his black coat shimmering. “Brutus, sit,” Dave commanded, and the Dane obeyed instantly, his eyes locking onto Betty with that same curious intensity. Dave clipped the leash onto Brutus’s collar, offering a warm smile. “Good to see you folks again. Same plan?”

Laura glanced at Betty, reading her trembling excitement, then took a bold step forward. “Actually, Dave, we were thinking… maybe Brutus could get a bit closer to Betty today. Like, really close. If you’re cool with it.”

Dave raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral but intrigued. “You mean what we laughed about last time? You’re serious?” He glanced at Betty, who looked up at him through her mask, her eyes wide but eager. He chuckled softly. “Alright, if she’s game, I’m not one to judge. Brutus is a good boy—he’ll do what comes naturally.”

Shannon grinned, pulling out her phone. “We’re gonna record it, just for us. You want in?”

Dave hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, as long as her face is covered. I don’t want any trouble.” He pulled out his own phone, setting it up as Laura and Shannon did the same, their cameras ready to capture the scene. Betty’s breath hitched as Dave released Brutus’ leash: “Go for it, boy.”

The Dane approaching her with a slow, deliberate gait. Laura tugged Shannon’s leash gently, guiding her into position on all fours, her body exposed and vulnerable. “Good girl,” the Blonde murmured, her voice steady. “You’ve got this.”

Brutus circled Betty, sniffing curiously, his massive form towering over her. Then, with a sudden but gentle movement, he mounted her, his front paws resting on her back. Betty never had a lover resting a good portion of his wait on her before, especially not while she was holding herself up on her elbows and knees. The Dane had to try entering a few times, heightening her worries he might accidently slide into her rear, and was partly relieved when the tip glided into her soaking wet vagina like onto a rail. Then she felt her tunnel being stretched by his hammer, quickly picking up a vigorous speed neglecting her intense sensation, Brutus head panting somewhere over or around her head. It didn’t matter to her. Betty wasn’t sure if the overwhelming mix of sheer pleasure and slight pain were too much for her but was far from able to make any clear decision or even express it. She felt destined to just endure it for however long it would take.

She gasped through the gag, her body tensing as the reality hit—wild, raw, and overwhelming. She was fucked by a dog, and at least looked like she loved it. On top of that, the humiliation of being watched, recorded, and commented on by Laura, Shannon, and Dave, a trembling heat surged through her. At least, her face was well covered by the dog mask, shielding her from the majority of shame. What was left of it added to her strong arousal, letting her give in like an animal in heat. Her gasps turned to muffled moans, her affection unmistakable as Brutus moved instinctively, his actions frequent and steady, not giving her any break but even increasing over time.

“Atta boy, Brutus!” Dave called, his tone light but proud, as if praising a well-executed trick.

Laura and Shannon echoed him, their voices a mix of encouragement and delight.

“Look at our bitch!”, Laura teased and mocked her, her camera steady.

Shannon cheered: “Such a good pup for Brutus!”

When the act was over, Brutus dismounted, waiting for the swelling to cease so he could retract his knot, another embarrassing moment. Then he licked a few times over random areas of Betty, and then turned his attention towards himself, orientating himself towards his owner again.

Betty remained on all fours, her body still trembling with a mix of shock, exhilaration, and undeniable pleasure, her thighs slick, feeling the injected juice mixed with her own body fluids, starting to dribble out of her now. Laura and Shannon took great care to record her state from various angles.

“You did so good, pup,” Shannon whispered, carefully pouring some water from a bottle through Betty’s gag.

Laura tossed a dog treat to Brutus, who caught it eagerly. “Both our dogs deserve a reward,” she said, winking at Dave.

Dave grinned, pocketing his phone. “That was… something else. You folks are wild, but I respect it. Thanks for the entertainment.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out a business card and handing it to Laura. “I’m a tattoo artist—used to do it full-time, now I just take selected clients, rich folks mostly. I often service them at their homes. If you ever want some ink or piercings, I owe you a big one. Free work, my treat. Really, it’s my life passion. Don’t worry about the workload.”

Laura took the card, her eyes lighting up. “No way, that’s awesome. We’ll keep it in mind.”

They parted ways, Dave and Brutus heading back down the path, while Laura and Shannon led Betty back to the car. The drive back to the apartment buzzed with Laura and Shannon’s excitement, the hatchback’s engine a steady hum beneath their animated chatter. In the back, Betty crouched silently in the dog cage, her masked face resting against the bars. Her body still thrummed from the day’s intensity—Brutus’s mounting, the weight of three cameras capturing her humiliation. Laura and Shannon, caught up in their conversation, barely noticed her quietude.

“Can you believe it?” Laura said, her hands tight on the steering wheel, hazel eyes gleaming.

“Free tattoos from a guy who works with rich clients? That’s gotta be worth thousands.” Shannon leaned back, her blonde braid swinging.

“Total score. We bought that gear for Betts’s fun, and now we’re getting this? Talk about a payoff.” Laura cheered.

Shannon glanced at the back. “You good back there, pup?”

Betty managed a muffled hum through the ring-gag, her eyes distant but calm. The raw thrill of being fucked by Brutus under the gaze of her friends and a stranger had left her in a haze—humiliating, exhilarating, and deeply satisfying. Her mind drifted, sinking into a submissive, acceptive state, each thought slow and pliant like warm clay.

At the apartment, Laura and Shannon carefully unlocked Betty’s gear, easing her out of the cage and into sweats and a loose tee. She sat on the couch, her dark hair damp, her expression serene yet faraway.

Shannon noticed first, sitting beside her and brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Hey, Betts,” Shannon said softly, “you’re super quiet. Today was intense, huh? You okay?”

Betty blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I’m… okay. It was a lot. Being watched by you guys, Dave, the cameras… and Brutus…” She flushed, her eyes dropping. “It was humiliating, but… I liked it. A lot. I’m just… processing.”

Shannon knelt in front of her, searching her face. “You sure? If it’s too much, we stop. You know that.”

Betty shook her head, a shy smile breaking through. “No, I don’t want to stop. It feels… right, somehow. Like I’m letting go. I trust you guys completely.”

Shannon squeezed her hand, her voice warm. “Good. We’ve got you, always.” One of her infamous, genuinely kind smiles fell on Betty like the soft glow of a comfortable sun. “Why don’t you rest, Betts? We’ll grab some pizza, chill for a bit.”

Betty nodded and went to her room, curling into her bed, her eyes heavy. As she drifted into a light sleep, Laura and Shannon stayed in the living room, their voices low but electric with new possibilities. They opened Laura’s laptop, scrolling through tattoo and piercing designs, Dave’s offer sparking wicked ideas.

“I’m thinking something bold for me, like a snake coiling up my thigh,” Laura mused, clicking through dark, intricate designs. “But for Betts… we could go wild. Something that screams her pup vibe, but, like, humiliatingly so.”

Shannon raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “Like what? A tattoo of a dog collar around her neck? Or… oh, maybe a piercing through her nipple with a little bone-shaped charm?”

Laura’s grin turned mischievous. “Bigger. Picture this: a full-back tattoo of a chained-up dog, with ‘Bitch’ in bold letters. Or piercings—multiple ones, like a row of rings down her labia, tagged with tiny bells that jingle when she crawls. Total slave-bitch energy.”

Shannon laughed, but her expression sobered. “That’s intense, Laura. It’s one thing to play with gear, but permanent stuff like that? We can’t just decide for her.”

Laura nodded, her excitement tempered. “You’re right. We ask her, obviously. But she’s so deep in this submissive headspace—she might love it. We just need to make sure it’s safe and she’s fully on board.”

They seized the moment while Betty slept to call Dave, his number saved from the business card.

He picked up quickly, his voice warm and professional. “Hey, ladies. Had a safe trip home I assume then. What’s the plan?”

Laura dove in, explaining their interest in his offer, particularly for Betty. “We’re thinking tattoos and piercings for her, something that leans into her… thing. Maybe a bit extreme, but we want to surprise her with the details. What do you think?”

Dave paused, his tone thoughtful. “I like the creativity—she’s got a unique vibe. I can do extreme, no problem. You thinking tattoos like slave or dog motifs? Piercings with a humiliating twist, like tagged charms? I’ve got techniques that can make it pop, even a weld-on method for piercings—semi-permanent, seals them in place but reversible with the right tools. Takes a bit more work to remove, but it’s safe.”

Shannon leaned closer to the phone, curious. “Weld-on? What’s that about?”

Dave launched into a detailed explanation, describing the process—using a specialized tool to fuse piercing ends, creating a nearly seamless look that’s harder to remove without professional intervention. He outlined aftercare, healing times, and reversal options, emphasizing that even weld-on piercings could be undone with laser or surgical methods. The conversation stretched, Laura and Shannon asking about pain levels, infection risks, and how to balance bold designs with Betty’s comfort. Dave’s expertise was reassuring, his enthusiasm for the project infectious.

“For Betty,” he added, “I could do something like a stylized paw print tattoo with ‘Property of’ inked around it, or a chain-link pattern across her lower back. Piercings could be subtle but wicked—say, a clitoral hood ring with a tiny dog tag. But as a professional, I need her explicit consent, especially for surprises. A recorded statement, her dressed and clear-headed, showing her ID, with a legal formula like: ‘I, Betty Harper, on [date], consent to Laura and Shannon choosing body modifications, including tattoos and piercings, with full understanding of the procedures.’ That covers it.”

Laura jotted down the formula, her mind racing with ideas. “Got it. We’ll get the video and talk to her. Thanks, Dave—this is gonna be epic.”

“No problem,” Dave said. “I’m stoked to work on her. She’s got that spark—should be a fun canvas.”

After hanging up, Laura and Shannon sat in the kitchen’s dim light, the laptop glowing with images of humiliating designs—tattoos of leashes curling around thighs, words like “Slave” or “Pup” in gothic script, and piercings with dangling charms shaped like bones or collars. The ideas were wicked, pushing Betty’s submission further, but their commitment to her safety held firm.

Betty came back and joined them in the living room, gladly taking a portion from the food Laura had cooked meanwhile. She looked rested, her eyes clearer, though that submissive softness lingered.

Shannon sat beside her, her tone gentle but excited. “Betts, we’ve been talking to Dave about his tattoo and piercing offer. We’re thinking something bold for you—stuff that matches your pup vibe, maybe a bit… degrading, in a fun way. Like tattoos or piercings that scream ‘owned.’ You wouldn’t know the details, but we’d pick something perfect. What do you think?”

Betty’s eyes widened, a mix of nerves and curiosity flickering across her face. “Like… permanent stuff? With words or… what?”

Shannon nodded, her voice reassuring. “Could be. Maybe a tattoo that says ‘Pup’ or a piercing with a little tag. Dave says even the intense stuff, like welded piercings, can be removed later. We’d make sure it’s safe. But we need you to do a quick video, like before, saying it’s okay for us to choose.”

Betty chewed her lip, her mind still soft from the day’s intensity. She could wear normal cloth again no matter how much or often she had been naked. Nobody might suspect what naughty acts she had let herself been degraded to, even the bestiality with Brutus. But she could never undo a tattoo, she thought. Also, didn’t they hurt a lot? On the other hand, she had already endured discomfortable pain for her friends. And in most places, tattoos weren’t normally seen. Maybe her besties would only decide to put their names in the smallest letters on her, or a big word on her sole. Betty imagined the many casual tattoos and piercings see had seen in her life, easing her scare about the whole issue. The thought of her friends marking her body with humiliating, permanent symbols of her submission sent a familiar warmth through her. “I… I think I’d be okay with that,” she said slowly. “If it’s you guys picking. I trust you.”

Laura grinned, holding Betty by her shoulder now, looking into her eyes with sparking anticipation: “We’ll make it perfect, bitch. Let’s do the video tomorrow, when you’re fresh. Then we’ll plan something that’ll blow your mind.”

As they silently ate delicious, fresh brownies made by Shannon from her favorite recipe, the only sounds from some chill, instrumental music in the background, the air lightened, but Betty’s thoughts drifted inward, her submissive state deepening. The prospect of Laura and Shannon branding her as their slave-pup, with tattoos and piercings that declared her surrender, felt like a bit daunting, but a consequent step forward on the liberating journey so far—a journey where trust and humiliation wove together, binding her ever closer to her best friends.

The morning after their intense forest encounter, the apartment glowed with soft sunlight, the fairy lights unplugged for the day. Betty sat cross-legged on the couch, her coffee mug cradled in her hands, her expression a mix of lingering submission and nervous anticipation. Laura and Shannon flanked her, their energy gentle but purposeful, ready to discuss the consent video for Dave’s tattoo and piercing plans. Betty gave Shannon a look, signaling her to press for the topic.

“Betts,” Shannon began, her voice warm but firm, “we need to talk about the video for Dave. You know, the one where you give us permission to pick your tattoos and piercings. You’re okay with that?”

Betty’s eyes widened, her fingers tightening around the mug. Her voice trembled slightly, the weight of her experience with Brutus amplifying her hesitation. “You’re really going through with it? Like, soon? What… what are you planning?”

Shannon leaned forward, her blonde braid brushing her shoulder. “No spoilers, pup. We want it to be a surprise—something that fits your vibe perfectly. But we need you to trust us, like you did with the gear and the hikes.”

Betty chewed her lip, her mind flickering between excitement and fear. “It’s just… tattoos and piercings are so permanent. What if I don’t like them? Or what if they’re too much?”

Laura stepped in, her hazel eyes steady. “Dave told us even the intense stuff, like weld-on piercings, can be reversed. And you know we’d never pick anything that doesn’t feel like you. You wanted us to push you a little, for your own good. Have you forgotten how much of yourself you discovered recently? And how good that felt? This is just one more step. Trust us.”

Betty’s gaze darted between them, her submissive haze softening her resistance. The memory of their care, their unwavering support through every wild step, anchored her. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice small but resolute. “I’ll do the video. But… promise you’ll take care of me?”

“Always,” Shannon said, taking place beside her and squeezing her knee.

They set up Laura’s phone on a tripod, Betty dressed in a simple tee and jeans, her ID held up for the camera. She spoke clearly, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “I, Betty Harper, being of sound mind, consent to Laura and Shannon choosing body modifications, including tattoos and piercings, with full understanding of the procedures.” She sighed deeply. The words felt heavy, but she meant them, her trust in her friends absolute. Now it was done, so there was nothing else to do then let go.