Betty's besties

The week passed in a blur of college classes, assignments, and chilled evenings hanging out in the living room, every bestie most often attending to an own activity. When not studying, Laura often looked, read, or watched something up on the internet. She always has been a curious person on how things worked in general. Hence, she also knew lots about science, history, and politics.

Nowadays, she also attended to caring for Betty’s accounts. First, she consciously only did it in her absence not wanting to take any chances to stir trouble. Over time though, she noticed how Betty even made extra effort to avoid risking even a peek at her screens. Had she always been this way, Laura wondered. As risk management, she acquired a special screen protector obfuscating its content from any other perspective than her own. From then on, Laura especially enjoyed doing the management with the unknowing victim present. She found it further encouraged her to be meaner, just what the submissive bitch needed. Lately, one of her hands playfully wandered over her body, experimenting with how Betty reacted in the periphery. As it turned out, that also made her look the other way, possibly embarrassed or confused. The result became evident when Laura started masturbating and quietly moaning. Overall, it was fun though she never dared going as far with Shannon present. It had become an unspoken, personal dynamic between her and Betty alone. Laura could easily justify having a little fun, as she did the heavy lifting on research about the practical details of domination, often enough a lot of serious, boring, fun spoiling mass of text, but somebody had to do it. Currently, she was educating herself about all signs and aspects of subspace.

When Laura wasn’t in the mood for any of that, she just rested on the couch, letting her legs hand over, sometimes freely swing or move around, with occasional breaks of doing some push-ups or lifting one her weight bells.

Shannon often tended to novels, from very casual romance, over fantasy love, light erotic, and since recently to heavier sex stories. She even got some dark fantasy comics and frequently enjoyed pictures of girls dressed in leather or latex now. Whenever Betty was around, she surely gave her a secret glance at least every ten minutes, besides her usual warm, open smile of general appreciation, of course. She could also make herself busy studying recipes and cooking or baking by them, which she was very good at, as long as precise execution yielded the best results. It was one of her most relaxing activities, and she had plenty of mind left to dream away or silently observe her present flat mates.

Pleasuring herself physically in presence of others was still a no go for her. She needed to connect with someone to fully let go of herself. That didn’t prevent her from being aroused when she fantasized about what Betty could do to her with a certain tongue piercing, or multiple. So far, she had restraint herself from pushing in that direction, thinking it might be too selfish of her. She was sure, Laura would have agreed to such a small personal preference. More importantly, to make that fantasy finally happen, she felt Betty had to long for giving her head. That would be right. How could she turn away her best friend in such dire need? She was pretty sure Betty wasn’t into girls, despite having a lack of boyfriends in her past. Not yet, maybe. How the things currently progressed, that time might come rather soon. Though Shannon sometimes doubted that a new step wasn’t too much for Betty, she had to admit to herself that owning their ‘pup’ was a pleasure in itself, and many scenes with her had been imprinted in her memory as most delightful. She wondered if anyone suspected any of these thoughts as source for many of her genuine excellent moods around her besties.

Betty, caught up in her routine of studying, had a harder time finding new interests since she had given away her old phone and was too shy to even ask for its return anymore. Laura had installed an option to save email drafts on her laptop that Laura would send out after checking, so Betty could send her assignments, organize her schedule, and potentially connect to her lecturers for any questions if she would ever be eager enough to use that option. Besides that, her passwords for her social media accounts didn’t work anymore as Laura had taken them over. The newly installed parental control on her laptop denied her any access to not waste her time without her besties’ consent. There was still a voice within Betty rambling about these serious restrictions, having completely overhauled her daily life, demanding more freedom. But a bigger part of her was happy with the new peace of mind she had found. Whenever she felt down, upset, or worried, she could not try to find comfort in any modern distractions which usually let her down in the end. Instead, she was forced to consult her best friends who had proven to genuinely care for her. Betty had never been disappointed in getting an answer, sometimes having to accept some personal sacrifices for a proper solution. Based on her experience, the rebel voice became smaller every day, as she walked on a sound bed of submission, sometimes a bit rough. Betty had been surprised about herself. Apparently, she could endure a lot, and increasingly missed being put into the gear.

Her besties adjusted to that drastic change in Betty’s available time by giving her access to a few new sites, allowing her to communicate with other female “subs”, as submissive in the BDSM scene called themselves. She also could and would read erotic stories, though Shannon and Laura did handpick these. The limited selection made Betty read them repetitively due to a lack of options. For praise from her bestie, she happily complied to the request from Shannon to leave a new comment on each paragraph with a number from one to ten expressing her excitement about it. Optionally, she could leave comment on how she felt in detail, which she occasionally did when a scene had a bigger impact on her.

With her story library expending, these stories became heavier on average. The same happened to very few pictures from the net showing subs in sessions, bound with ropes for example. Some of them wore pet play gear Betty was now familiar with. She was actually quite happy about this new material since her friends had completely emptied her toy drawer, for her own good, as they stated. While Betty was well busy with studying and treating herself nicely with good rests, hot baths, and hanging out with her besties, she was also still getting horny from time to time. The time to the exciting weekend sessions felt increasingly longer for her though the last one hadn’t been that long. She was already day-dreaming about her next walk, unsure what would happen or not happen next time. Would she become bitch for Brutus another time? She wasn’t even sure she would have asked for it if she had to make a call, though the fantasy physically excited her, up to rallying shiver overcoming her for a moment.

Strangely enough, even with Brutus in mind, Betty nearly forgot about the looming appointment with Dave. When Saturday arrived, she expected another forest hike. She was already looking forward to the parts she was familiar with and eager to demonstrate her unusual, physical capabilities. Her excitement mixed with nervousness about another possible encounter with Brutus and any new ideas her besties might have had meanwhile. On the other hand, she knew from experience that most things were getting easier after the first time. That thought eased her mind quite a bit, when Laura and Shannon locked her back into her second skin.

Her besties had other plans though. Instead to the usual parking lot they drove directly to Dave’s property, a sprawling, isolated lot surrounded by dense woods. It was quite a different way, hardly possibly for a normal car, bouncing along the dirt trail nothing close to a road, but they still managed with some perseverance. Betty back in her cage could not ignore the whole, unusual shaking and rumbling, and had a hard time herself resisting the impacts her limbs and her vision restraint by her complete dog gear. Her muffled attempts at speech were unintelligible and wouldn’t have overcome rumbling noises anyway. Drool escaped the gag, her locked paws rendering her helpless to resist or even gesture meaningfully.

Betty’s nervousness had grown to a little monster when the car stopped. What did Laura and Shannon have in mind this time? Where were they even going? Then she reminded her consent to tattoos and piercings. ‘Darn’, she thought, ‘This must be it.’ Unable to escape, her mind braced for impact, looking for that comfort of accepting the unavoidable. Fate.

“We’re here, pup,” Shannon announced, her voice calm. Laura and her lifted the cage from the car and carried it into a rustic barn-like structure filled with tattoo equipment and a padded table. Shannon stated the obvious: “No woods today. We’re at Dave’s workshop.”

Betty’s heart still raced, her eyes wide behind the mask, but she couldn’t protest or ask questions. Where was her peace? The ring-gag silenced her, and the locked gear left her entirely at her friends’ mercy. Finally, she gave in, her body relaxing slightly, trusting their promise to care for her despite not knowing the full extent of what was coming. After all, she had agreed to let them choose, even if the speed of their plans had surprised her.

Dave greeted them with his easy smile, his dark eyes assessing Betty’s helpless form. “Ready for a big day, huh?” he asked, his deep voice soothing. “Got your video online, Laura. Everything’s set.” He nodded to the cameras set up around the workshop, per Laura’s request. “We’ll record the whole process.”

Betty’s muffled hum was her only response, her submissive state deepening under the total loss of control, mixed with the outlook of what was going to happen. She didn’t fuss, her trust overriding her nerves, even as the unknown loomed. She hadn’t been killed, dropped by her besties so far, and she hadn’t gone insane. Quite the contrary, and today would be no different. In the end, she would get praised, feeling accomplished. She might once again feel wholesome and fulfilled.

Dave laid her on the padded table, switching her constraints as he needed, but always keeping her safe from any serious attempt of resistance or escape. His dark, velvety voice explained each step with a doctor’s precision, balancing reassurance with minimal detail to keep her calm.

“We’re starting with piercings—quick pinches, nothing you can’t handle. Then tattoos, longer but steady. You’re doing great just lying there.” To Laura and Shannon, he added, “Cameras are rolling, so I’ll explain aftercare mostly to you two. She’s in a good headspace—let’s keep it that way.”

Betty’s mind drifted as he worked, the pain of each piercing—ears, nipples, septum, clit, and labia—sharp and unknown to her, each worse than one before, but flowing into a separate channel she quickly got used to, dulled by her obedient haze. Her inability to speak or move freely deepened her surrender, each sting a reminder of her trust in giving up control.

Dave’s voice flowed over her: “Ear piercings first, a line to hold the cow tags—bright yellow, bold but removable with the key.” The needle pierced her skin, her muffled whimper barely audible through the gag. “Nipple piercings—small rings for jingle bells, bigger ones for ropes or weights. Versatile, humiliating.” The bells clinked, a degrading sound that sent a shiver through her.

The genital piercings were the most intense—a clit shield and multiple labia rings forming a custom structure. “This is special,” Dave said, his tone clinical. “A shield to block stimulation, with a remote-control shock system. Your friends wanted training tools.” Betty’s muffled gasp faded as he continued, “Labia rings lock it in place, like a cage. It’s intense, but she’ll adjust.” She couldn’t protest, her helplessness complete, but her body betrayed her arousal while she imagined the humiliating picture of herself.

The tattoos followed, each design inked with precision, taking necessary breaks. Dave described them sparingly to Betty, focusing on the cameras for Laura and Shannon: “Neck tattoos: ‘Pull my hair’ and ‘Choke me’ in bold. Front neck’s tattoos in smaller letters: ‘Fuck my throat’ and ‘G-Spot’.” The lower back tattoo, a tribal tramp stamp with “Anal hate-fuck bitch” woven in, took hours, Betty’s mind floating in submission. Above her genitals, “Denied forever” was inked in stark letters, a permanent mark of her surrender.

He spoke to the cameras about aftercare, addressing Laura and Shannon. “Clean everything with antiseptic soap, no soaking for two weeks. Check for redness, swelling. The lingual frenulum removal—quick snip to free her tongue—needs rinsing often. I’ll send a detailed guide.” Betty, mind-absent, barely registered his words, accepting each modification as an extension of her trust.

The bright-pink collar Dave presented to Laura and Shannon, emblazoned with “bitch” in silver, was the final touch he took the liberty to add, its reflective surface and optional blinking LEDs a humiliating flourish. Dave explained its care, noting its durability and visibility in the dark, perfect for their hikes. The besties reacted ecstatic about this small token. Laura dared to carry the collar into a dark corner and upload a picture of it onto Betty’s social media account, without words. It was a teaser for more to come.

The weeks following Betty’s transformation in Dave’s workshop were a delicate balance of care and control. The pet suit was still reserved for the weekends. Laura and Shannon threw themselves into their new roles with fervor, their commitment to Betty’s well-being matched only by their eagerness to push her deeper into her submission. The three besties’ studies suffered from that time investment, especially Betty’s. But for the time, they all could live with that consequence.

While Betty healed, they sought out Dave’s expertise, determined to master the art of training their human pet for the long haul. They made multiple phone calls to him, their questions ranging from general BDSM dynamics to the specifics of pet-play maintenance. On a few occasions, they visited his isolated property, leaving Betty at the apartment to rest, her body still adjusting to the array of piercings and tattoos in an exhausted state. After the first days they stopped to worry about Betty touching her wounds. Their pup behaved very well and just slept a lot.

At Dave’s workshop, surrounded by sketches of ink and the faint hum of sterilizing equipment, he shared his knowledge with a calm authority. He explained the psychology of submission, the importance of consistent boundaries, and the nuances of conditioning a human pet.

“It’s about trust and structure,” he told them, his dark eyes serious. “Betty’s already deep in that headspace. Keep her safe, but don’t shy away from pushing her limits. Small, steady steps.”

He offered tips on reinforcement, from verbal praise to physical rewards, and cautioned against overwhelming her during recovery. Laura and Shannon soaked it up, their newly bought notebooks filled with ideas, their minds buzzing with possibilities.

Back at the apartment, Betty’s life took on a new rhythm, shaped by her friends’ careful orchestration. Her healing piercings required meticulous care, with Shannon diligently cleaning them checking for signs of infection. She treated the still tender tattoos with ointments. Laura had been carefully checking all modifications to be covered up during Betty’s college time. For any walks the usual gear was applied and Shannon would put Betty’s hair into pigtails to make the ears well visible. During the week it freely hang down her shoulders and neck, with the cow tags removed just in case. The front neck tattoos were covered by a simple choker. The bells were silenced by strong tapes and her cloth. Everything else was covered unless Betty would deliberately want to show off some with according fashion choices. Laura’s teasing about revealing clothing never materialized, respecting Betty’s genuine worry, but the threat alone sparked a thrill. Overall, Betty still seemed to have a normal life to the outside world, unless someone paid closer attention noticing her strange mobile phone, the sudden change in her social media account postings, her lack of bonding with anyone else than her room mates, or her increasingly passive behavior.

To aid her recovery, Laura and Shannon kept their forest outings gentle and minimal, just keeping them for the sake of routine and mind set. Betty actually longed for their usual procedures, putting her in and out of her dog character, even if it was for only a short time and limited activities. At last, that was the hook that got her into the new arrangement in the first place. She felt rewarded for a whole week of charade as Human being, clothed and fully capable, but under the rules and attentive guidance of her besties.

They stuck to short walks on familiar, secluded paths. Betty, in her full gear of locked paw mitts, knee pads, the snout mask with the ring-gag, and the new bright-pink “bitch” collar, crawled slowly. She moved cautiously to avoid straining her healing piercings, and Laura and Shannon went as easy on her as they could. The jingle bells on Betty’s nipple rings clinked softly, a humiliating reminder of her role, while the cow tags in her ears swayed with each step. She had seen the tattoos in the bathroom mirror. Since she couldn’t do anything about it, she took them as markings of entrusting her besties with much control over her, making her proudly smile whenever she repeated that thought. The chain connecting her septum to the snout’s external ring allowed her guardians to guide her with a tug, a sensation that sent shivers of arousal through her, despite the discomfort and pain. Her inability to speak through the ring-gag left her reliant on muffled sounds and let her drop any effort trying to express her confusingly intense feelings. She might eventually share them later, she thought, or drop the issue all together. Sometimes Betty wondered if her besties were already aware of her thoughts or if she shouldn’t bother them at all with such unimportant details.

The genital piercings were the most painful at first. The clit shield, blocking direct stimulation, was anchored by multiple labia rings, forming a cage-like structure with remote-controlled shock capabilities. Dave’s training design, he’d explained, was for discipline, a concept Laura and Shannon embraced. The anal plugs, also Dave’s contribution, ranged from small to XXL, each with a detachable dog-tail and remote vibrators and shockers, designed to stretch her ass over time.

One significant change came with Betty’s diet. Laura introduced a new regimen, inspired by their talks with Dave about deepening Betty’s pet-play experience. On weekends, she began feeding Betty a tasteless but nutritious mush, served in a shallow bowl on the floor.

“It’s worse than dog food,” Laura teased, her voice playful as she watched Betty struggle to lap at the bland mixture through her ring-gag, her tongue adapting to the lingual frenulum removal’s newfound freedom. “Our pup deserves to feel extra special.”

Betty’s muffled whines were genuine, her eyes glinting with humiliation. The mush, a gritty blend of protein and vitamins, was a stark contrast to her usual meals, reinforcing her role as less than human.

Laura grinned wickedly as she ruffled Betty’s hair: “Eating like a proper bitch. That’s the way I like you.”

The mocking, coupled with the physical touch, sent a warmth through Betty, her body responding even as her mind grappled with the intensity.

As Betty’s healing progressed, Laura made the mush her primary diet, extending it beyond weekends. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were served in the bowl, Betty on all fours, her hair in pigtails as Laura insisted on at home, swaying as she lapped it up, her bells jingling softly. The only exceptions were small pieces of chocolate or fruit given as training rewards or mood brighteners.

“Sit,” Laura would command, holding a grape just out of reach. Betty obeyed, her bells clinking, and Laura popped the treat into her open mouth, praising her with a firm “That’s my bitch!” The sweetness was a rare delight, a reminder of her friends’ care amidst the humiliation.

Shannon would adopt that technique, though she was way more gently admiring her “Good pup”, stroking Betty’s hair and body.

Sometimes, Laura pushed even further, feeding her deliberately nasty-tasting items as a form of playful degradation. A spoonful of bitter herbal paste or a sip of unsweetened grapefruit juice would be offered with a smirk.

“Open wide, slut,” Laura would say, pouring the liquid through Betty’s ring-gag.

She had learned to vigorously use her loosened tongue to catch and keep in loose pieces and drops, managing her face rarely being spoiled by anything else than her saliva. Betty’s face scrunched, her muffled whimpers overshadowed by Laura’s mocking laughter, but she swallowed obediently, her physical arousal betraying her protests. The act of submitting to their whims, even when unpleasant, her body tingling with each humiliating bite.

Weeks later, the trio gathered in their apartment for a photo session, the healed results a striking display of their vision. Betty stood naked. Her plain steel belly button piercing was a simple contrast to the elaborate modifications. Laura and Shannon’s cameras clicked through the photo session and captured every angle.

“You’re our masterpiece, pup,” Shannon said, her voice thick with pride.

Betty nodded, unable to speak clearly due to the lingering effects of her submissive haze and the memory of the ring-gag. Her eyes sparkled with shame and satisfaction. Her helplessness in Dave’s workshop and her lack of choice had been overwhelming yet fulfilling. She hadn’t fussed, trusting her general consent, even as the extent of their plans surprised her. The modifications, humiliating and permanent, bound her closer to Laura and Shannon. Her body had become a canvas of their wicked imagination and the testament of an unwritten contract.

Their hikes resumed in earnest as Betty’s piercings healed. The remote-controlled devices in the clit shield and anal plugs became a regular part of her training. Laura and Shannon experimented carefully with the shock and vibration settings, testing Betty’s responses during walks. A low buzz would hum through her plug, making her gasp and stumble, while a sharp shock to her labia rings would elicit a muffled yelp, her eyes wide with a mix of pain and pleasure.

“Keep moving, pup,” Laura would say, her phone in hand, adjusting the intensity with a grin. The control, paired with verbal praise like “Such a good bitch,” kept Betty in a constant state of arousal, her thighs slick despite the clit shield’s denial.

At home, Laura and Shannon continued their education, poring over Dave’s recommended reading on BDSM dynamics and pet-play training. They discussed long-term goals—how to deepen Betty’s conditioning without breaking her trust, how to balance her human life with her pup role. They never brought Betty to these discussions, wanting her to focus on healing and embracing her new reality. Instead, they showered her with affection, ensuring she felt safe and loved. After a particularly intense hike, they’d cuddle on the couch, Betty nestled between them, any gear except her collar removed, Shannon’s hands stroking her hair as they whispered praises. Laura’s hand walked over the naked body, tickling and poking her friend close to not noticeable, training her to endure more without reaction.

Betty’s mind, still soft from her submissive haze, adapted to the new normal. The mush diet, the humiliating treats, the constant control of her gear and piercings—all of it wove into her identity as their pet. She didn’t question it, her trust in Laura and Shannon unwavering, even as they pushed her further. On the ground of her diet, a rare, causal treat like one sweet strawberry dipped in chocolate felt like a burst of love. It reminded her that her degradation was rooted in their care.

One evening, as they sat in the apartment, Betty on her knees eating her mush, her bells jingling with each movement, Laura glanced at Shannon, her eyes gleaming. “She’s doing so well,” she murmured. “Think it’s time to step up her training?”

Shannon nodded, watching Betty’s tags sway as she lapped at the bowl. “Definitely. Our pup’s ready for the next level.”

Betty, unable to speak through the gag but hearing their words, felt a familiar thrill. Her body, marked and controlled, belonged to them. The thought of what lay ahead, more training, more humiliation, only deepened her surrender, binding her ever closer to her best friends’ wicked, loving world.