Betty's besties

Unbeknownst to Betty, Laura and Shannon had ventured into a new realm of their dynamic. Laura, in a burst of inspiration, proposed opening a DarkFans account—a fetish platform akin to OnlyFans—for sharing Betty’s explicit content. “It’s for her,” Laura argued to Shannon, her voice earnest. “We can save up for new gear, replacements, maybe even a custom piece from Dave. Plus, it means we don’t need part-time jobs—we can focus on her.”

Shannon hesitated, wary of the ethical line, but Laura’s logic won out: the income would support their best friend’s journey, and Betty’s face was always masked or obscured in the footage. Besides, it was a pity to not share that sexy woman’s nude sides. Nobody she knew would have any idea it was her. Shannon remembered how proud she felt about the likes Betty’s wiggling butt got. She now regretted not haven’t ventured into this option further, but she could make it up for it now, even with a big bonus effect.

They agreed, setting up the account and uploading their archive of photos and videos—Betty’s nude adventures, her exploration of the full gear, even mating with Brutus, her unmasking and degrading turd-licking, her ant hill endurance. Nothing was meant to be uploaded right away, especially not the parts with Betty’s face without editing them first. Then Shannon persisted on a content strategy, roughly planning how often they wanted to upload what, how many short clips were to be created for teasing and advertising this channel. She applied her marketing classes by stretching how important feasibility of delivery was. They had to have buffers for vacation, sickness, creatives rests or blockages, and anything else sabotaging the plan. Fortunately, they already had quite the material, so they would be good for a lot in advance as long as they didn’t publish much more than they frequently produced. Fortunately, the current technology already gave them an edge by automated clip generation, editing proposals, and upload managers, allowing them to cover the necessary media for attracting an audience. Laura even agreed to minimum advertising budgets until Shannon proved them to return the investment.

Over the next weeks, supported by a steady content stream, a freshness of such niche content, and their clever advertising, their DarkFans account quickly gained traction, subscribers drawn to the raw intensity of Betty’s submission. Shannon even live-streamed select weekend moments, like Betty fetching a bone or enduring a shock-induced crawl, the chat buzzing with anonymous praise. Most it does was proofing the genuine reality of the uploaded videos.

The income was modest but growing, enough to justify their decision. They used some to buy new training tools—a longer chain for Betty’s septum, a larger plug with a fluffier tail—and set aside the rest for future expenses, though they occasionally dipped into it for a driving or laundry service here and a premium option there, faster internet, online assistance with their assignments, rationalizing it as necessary to free up their time for Betty’s care. Attending to their besties needs and caring for her accounts turned out to quite of a job, fairly exceeding any casual free-time activity.

Following general advice for content creators, Laura and Shannon frequently took the time to read the comments and chat with their users, only video chatting once with broad masks covering their faces. They were reluctant to share much about themselves, but were more open to discuss how Betty had come to do what the users saw her doing, lead by her wonderfully attentive mistresses. Especially Laura agreed with the labels of slut, bitch, and whore. Shannon was more on the appraising users’ side. The two besties just ignored too hateful questions, demanding harsher treatment, and tended to the most positive feedback and constructive proposals, demonstrating how they would meet reasonable requests. For example, they soon both acquire riding crops and simple short whips, generously applying them on her walks with Betty, creating clear variation in the videos by the various red lines everywhere her dog’s body wasn’t covered by gear.

The apartment was quiet one Thursday evening, the fairy lights casting a soft glow over the living room as Laura and Shannon sprawled on the couch, their laptops open to the DarkFans dashboard. The account had become a surprising success, with subscribers flocking to the explicit footage of Betty’s weekend transformations, but especially the newest videos including the new hitting implements. As the numbers climbed, so did their ambitions, and a nagging frustration surfaced during their latest review of the account’s analytics.

“God, it’s such a shame,” Shannon sighed, scrolling through subscriber comments. “Everyone’s obsessed with knowing who she is. ‘Show her face,’ ‘Who’s the pup?’—like, every other comment. If we could share those unmasked videos…” She trailed off, her blue eyes glinting with temptation.

“Yeah, even with her face blurred face wouldn’t do the trick, only waste the material.”, Laura leaned back, her hazel gaze fixed on the screen. “Yeah, imagine the revenue showing her face. It’d be personal, intimate. People would lose it. We’d probably double our subscribers overnight.”

Shannon nodded, but her expression sobered. “But we can’t. It’d ruin Betty’s college life, her whole future. And this—” she gestured to the laptop, “—this only works because she trusts us to protect her. If we blow that, it’s over.”

Laura sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re right. No face, no way. But…” Her eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading. “What if we could interact with the viewers in a stream during the walks? Like, respond to their comments live, take their suggestions? It’d feel more engaging without risking her identity.”

Shannon perked up, her braid swinging. “That’s genius. But Betty would hear us talking to the chat. She’d know we’re streaming her.”

Laura’s grin widened. “Not if she can’t hear anything.”, countered she, “We could block her hearing—completely. I’ve got an idea.”

The next day, she called Dave, their go-to expert for modifications. “Hey, Dave,” Laura said, her voice bright over the phone. “We’re thinking about adding more ear piercings for Betty—something to hold noise-canceling earplugs. Can you make that happen?”

Dave’s chuckle crackled through the speaker. “Oh, you’re getting creative. Yeah, I can do that. I’ve got some high-end foam earplugs with integrated noise-canceling tech. They’ll seal tight with piercings, make her deaf to the outside world. You can pipe in whatever audio you want—your voices, music, anything. When’s the next hike?”

“Saturday as usual,” Shannon replied. “We’ll bring her to your workshop first.”

On Saturday morning, the trio arrived at Dave’s isolated property, Betty locked in her dog cage in the hatchback. Laura and Shannon carried her cage into Dave’s workshop, the familiar scent of antiseptic and ink greeting them.

Dave, his dark eyes warm, gestured to the padded table. “Let’s get her set up. Ear piercings today—four more per ear, to anchor the earplugs securely.” He knelt beside Betty, his voice soothing as he explained his intentions, “This’ll sting a bit, but you’re a tough pup. These will let your owners’ control what you hear. Just relax.”

Betty’s eyes widened behind the mask, but she stayed still, her submissive haze deepening. The needle pierced her ears with quick, precise stings, each new stud gleaming as Dave fitted the custom foam earplugs.

“These are top-notch,” he said to Laura and Shannon, holding up his phone to demonstrate. “Noise-canceling, blocks everything unless you feed audio through this. You can amplify your voices, play recordings, whatever you want. Care’s simple—clean like her other piercings, swap the foam weekly. I send you the app file to install.”

Laura was the quickest with the installation. “Perfect. We’ve got some ideas.” She scanned through the options, enjoying her thought process with a wicked smile.

Shannon tested the app first, speaking into the connected mic. “Hey, Betts, can you hear me?” Her voice, amplified through the earplugs, made Betty jump slightly, her bells jingling. Shannon laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

As they were already at Dave’s home and wanted a new scenery anyways, Laura hurried Betty to a huge kennel with the pulling leash and strong use of her riding crop. She led her into a single cell in a clean, simple interior, a solitary probably only meant for temporarily stay of a dog, and attached her to a hook at the end, cutting the leash so short that she was unable to turn. When Brutus arrived, he did to enter the cell only slightly to mount her rear. Betty’s anus received her lover with nearly no resistance, her cow tags swaying, her nipple bells clinking, the new earplugs sealing her in silence. Today, the besties’ bitch didn’t return the passion since she was confused about what to do, missing her audio input. She was kind of waiting for instruction which didn’t come, only increasing shocks in her clit shield, which made her rear jump involuntarily and gasp within her heavy breathing, since nobody told her to stay still.

Laura had gladly enacted one of the DarkFans live user request, shocking the bitch. Now that Betty couldn’t hear them, Shannon talked to the users, reaction to their mostly typed comments, questions, and suggestions. Laura made some rude comments, encouraging the users to tell them their thoughts and feelings. She also mocked Betty, explicitly knowing she couldn’t hear her.

After Brutus had bred his bitch, he could retreat his knot immediately without much force. Shannon rushed with rubber gloves over her hands. Following a user requests, she started to retrieve the dog seed and smear it all over Betty’s breasts, groping her in the effort and shaking the bells into concert. She left her after slapping the mudded breasts and her ass several times.

Laura would put on white noise for Betty, another user request, and being inspired, she also started a random shock program on low level, telling the users about it.

The live stream time was over, as part of their content strategy. Laura and Shannon left Betty alone while chatting over snacks with Dave. Then they parted, since they still seemed Betty’s training hike vital. Dave offered a hose pipe to clean the bitch, cold or warm water, but Laura preferred to keep her tainted. She let Shannon take the lead over Betty, for the benefit of a more relaxed treatment helping the bitch recover for once, but first of all since her mind was already busy with a fountain of ideas what to record next for loop material to feed into Betty’s ears, and how to incorporate the recordings she already made during the recent livestream. She thought Betty might like to hear Dave’s amusing remarks, or for the sake of variety and a little surprise the voice of the very few users who dared to use that feature.

But for now, Shannon would use the earplugs to directly infuse Betty with strengthening praise like “You are good pup. Well done.” or “Keep up the good walk”. She started to experiment with a harsher tone as well though, going for some dominating mind fuck, wanting to see how their pup would react to usual friendly voice and choice of words. “You’re a low, horny pup,” Shannon’s voice droned in the earplugs, in a unusual strict but convincing seriousness. “Obey your owners. You love Laura and Shannon like a dog, unconditionally.”

Laura would later find these phrases by Shannon’s voice very good material, as the app recorded anything spoken into for a short time. She would create loops of affirmations in different variations, like Shannon’s, her owns, Dave and strangers, all mixed, just moaning. The most fun loop was mixing Betty’s own moaning and cries in pleasure and pain, but especially the short phrases from her recorded videos. Laura made a peculiar list of self-demeaning, manipulating to hypnotic sentence for Betty to get recorded. She had made plenty of research notes on how to apply the science about hypnotization to its maximum effect. There was going to be no end to the audio input until Betty was a dumb slut immediately obeying any command and pushing herself more into entertaining her owners at her own costs, being denied any pleasure for herself. Laura was aware that they had to carefully balance the treatment of their toy to avoid breaking it for good, but that’s how Shannon also complemented Laura, at least so far. Laura imagined Betty cozily sleeping, nude and bound, but still resting well, for a much longer day of being used and tormented for Laura’s fun. She could definitely live with that limit of her own ambition.

The DarkFans account thrived with these innovations. Subscribers, now able to suggest exercises, rewards, and encouragements, fueled a stream of wild ideas. Of course, you had be online for the walk chat, pay extra, or better both, to increase the chance your proposal would be implemented, as long as it wasn’t too harsh or damaging. “Go with the flow” was the motto of the community, adjusting to the training curve of their available online slut.

One suggested Betty crawl through a muddy stream, another proposed tying weights to her nipple rings for a hike. Laura and Shannon vetted each idea, rejecting anything too dangerous, their care for Betty paramount.

“We’re not like them,” Shannon said one night, reviewing comments. “Some of these guys forget she’s human. We don’t.” She sounded serious, having to convince herself not to regret any choices. Of course, they were both new to this, and every human was supposed to make some mistakes here and there. As long as Betty went along with it, everything was fine. At last, it was her choice every day and every second to not run away or break down crying begging her friends to stop. ‘Oh’, thought Shannon a bit worried, ‘I hope she never does that.’ But then she pushed that scenario into the very back of her mind, if not out of the world at all. She herself felt very good with the current arrangements. ‘Betty had asked for this.’, she reminded herself, growing firmer in giving her harsher overall treatment as Laura had suggested.

Inspired by subscriber suggestions, they began incorporating their own piss and turds into Betty’s mush or water bowl, carefully limiting quantities for her health.

“Just a taste,” Shannon would say, pouring a small amount of piss into the bowl. “Drink up, bitch.”

Betty obeyed, her muffled whimpers mixing with arousal, the degradation pushing her deeper. The live stream chat exploded with excitement, subscribers praising the trainers’ creativity and offering more ideas—some practical, others reckless. Laura and Shannon still filtering them meticulously, giving example what they deemed reasonable or close to the limits.

The revenue from DarkFans transformed their lives. Laura and Shannon used it reduce their student loans, resulting in much better sleep over the whole activity. Finally, they benefitted from all their hard work. Soon, they would be debt free and even build up savings, possibly generating a stable passive income to sustain themselves. Laura had already explained Shannon how the whole investment standard worked, all spread out in ETFs to generate a relatively safe average profit as long as the world economy didn’t collapse as a whole.

When revenue not only spiked several times, but clearly multiplied by average, they splurged on elegant dresses, sleek heels, and designer purses, the purchases easing the stress of student life.

“It’s for Betts, too,” Shannon said, admiring a new leather bag. “More gear, maybe a custom collar.” They saved for future expenses, like advanced plugs or tailored restraints, or possibly kinky furniture and machines, ensuring their focus remained on Betty’s training.

Betty, unaware of the account, lived for their weekends, her weekdays softened by her growing submission.

One Sunday, after a grueling hike where Betty was constantly kept on the move, at a subscriber’s suggestion, she curled on the couch with her head resting on Shannon’s lap. Her gear was removed, except for her collar and the earplugs playing a loop of her voice: “I’m a dumb, horny pup who loves my owners.” Shannon stroked her hair, whispering, “You’re perfect, pup.”

The promise of weekly new humiliations, driven by their subscribers’ wild ideas, only deepened her surrender, binding her to Laura and Shannon’s loving, wicked world.

Contract

The relentless pace of Betty’s training had sculpted her into a model of submission. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, she thrived under Laura and Shannon’s care, their affection and control a perfect balance that kept her aroused and fulfilled, even without climax. The hypnotic recordings piped through her noise-canceling earplugs, her own voice droning, “You’re a low, horny bitch who loves her owners,” deepened her surrender, her body tingling with constant heat.

Yet, the intensity took its toll elsewhere. Betty’s course grades began to slip, her focus fractured by the demands of her dual life. The prospect of taking longer to graduate, accumulating more debt, loomed like a shadow. Worse, she didn’t even know about the state of her account. A far memory of an old rough financial planning nudged her that her savings for living costs might have dwindled to nothing, possibly forcing her to consider another loan application or even a part-time job—a burden that would exhaust her further.

The biggest exhaustion came from the fact that she hated that kind of the real world, having to deal with such overarching, life changing issues. Betty had been worried about Laura taking control of her accounts first, but soon after a feeling of freedom has set in. She was used of these issues being taken care of since a while now. On top of that, the lack of social media freed her from any worries or even anxiety about the state of the world, her generation, her state, town, friends or family. All she worried about was to make Laura and Shannon happy, which seemed quite easy by just following their commands. It made her quite happy, too, able to endure bad tastes, hard training, physical pain, the complete lack of orgasms, and lots of humiliation.

Betty saw no other way out though than to address the issue with her caretakers. She already started to have slight nightmares about it and knew it would only grow worse until it was solved. She felt the three of them could solve anything.

Hence Betty sat on the couch one Wednesday evening, her knees tucked under her, the fairy lights casting a soft glow. She wore casual clothing as usual under the week. She was still highly aware of her piercings and tattoos, her chastity keeping her in a lowly aroused state further dragging her submission into place.

Betty chewed her lip; her dark eyes clouded with worry. Quitting her sexual passion was unthinkable; it filled a void she hadn’t known existed, each humiliating act driving her wild with satisfaction and leaving her in a peaceful state of acceptance. Shannon’s praises, Laura’s demanding attention, and even their control were drugs she craved. But the thought of confronting them, of admitting she couldn’t keep up, terrified her. They had leverage—videos of her unmasked face, her degrading acts, enough to threaten her college future backed up but her proof of consent. Deep down, she knew they’d use it not to harm her but to push her to stick with her newly discovered true self. Such good friends. Deep down, she also resisted to give up. She felt much more like getting what she deserved, and giving others whatever she could to make them happy, giving herself purpose. The idea of exposure, humiliating as it was, sent a shiver of arousal through her, but it didn’t solve her practical problems. At the moment, on her own at least, the whole venture into this dark passion seemed unsustainable.

With her shoulders slumped, Betty took a deep breath and turned to Laura and Shannon, who were sprawled across the room, scrolling through their phones. “Guys,” she started, her voice small, “I need to talk. I’m… struggling.” She paused, until her besties had gathered around her, dropping what they were busy with.

“My grades are slipping. I might need longer to finish college. Also, I am not sure about my finances, but I am pretty sure I run out of money for rent, food, everything rather sooner than later. I might need a job, but that’ll kill me with school and… this. Or at least, I need a big extra loan, worthening my finances even further.” Betty gestured vaguely, her cheeks flushing. “I don’t want to stop, though. It’s… everything to me. But I can’t keep up, and I feel awful asking you for help. You’ve already done so much.”

Shannon leaned forward, her blonde braid swinging: “Betts, you’re not a burden. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Laura laid her arm around Betty’s shoulders, comforting her with a strength encumbrance: “Whatever comes up, we’ve got you.”

Betty’s eyes welled up, guilt twisting in her chest. “You are investing so much time on me. On top of that, you already spent so much on me—the gear, the plugs, earplugs, everything. I never gave you any share on the gas bills alone. All in all, it must cost a fortune. I don’t want you taking on debt for me.”

Laura exchanged a glance with Shannon, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Don’t worry about that, Betty. We’ve got a solution. We can cover your living costs—rent, food, basics—within reason. You won’t need a job.”

Betty’s jaw dropped. “What? No, that’s too much! You’re not rich either—you’ve got loans, same as me.”

Shannon raised a hand, her smile gentle but firm. “Wait, Laura. Yes, we’d gladly do that for you, Betts. But we don’t want you feeling bad about it. I’ve got an idea that might work for all of us. Listen.” Betty leaned in, her heart racing with hope. Shannon’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “We keep training you as our dog bitch, mush diet some audio all the time, hikes and Brutus on weekends, same as now, the whole deal.” She paused for a moment, giving time for some tension. Betty’s eyes widened, eager to hear the proposal, while Laura’s hand invaded her hair, firmly and gently grabbing her by the scalp.

“But during the week, you become our slave. Not a pet, but a human slave. You’ll still go to college, everything hidden like now, but instead of working a job, you serve us. Household chores like you know, but not just your share but anything we demand. On top of that, as much sexual stuff as we like. To be honest—whatever we say, whoever we say, as long as it’s safe and doesn’t ruin your life. You know we’ll protect you, keep your identity safe.”

Betty’s breath caught, her mind spinning. The idea was intoxicating—she was horny all the time anyway, her body craving the control Laura and Shannon wielded. Serving them as a slave, even sexually, felt like a natural extension of her submission. They had the plenty of opportunities to involve other people but so far nearly didn’t at all. You should easily live with Dave knowing and those strange, male and some female voices they added to her audio, but so far, they had never forced any other human on her. Even the teased dog gangbang hasn’t happened.

“That… sounds fair,” Betty said slowly, her voice trembling with arousal and relief. “I’d do anything for you guys, no questions asked. But it still feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Laura’s grin was sharp, her financial savvy kicking in. “Then let’s make it official, so you don’t feel guilty. How about a loan? You borrow from us to cover your costs, and you pay it back later, with interest. Fair, right?”

Shannon threw her partner in crime a bit of surprised look, telepathing if that wasn’t too much. She knew very well how easy finance had become to Laura and her, but that Betty didn’t know about that at all. Their dumbed down, sexy roommate hadn’t ever wondered about the nice new purse, clothes, and services they had treated themselves with. Of course, she didn’t want to reveal that either. Therefor in the end, Shannon didn’t say anything.

Betty nodded, her guilt easing. “Yeah, that’s better. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. What… what kind of interest?”

Laura’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly forming the word “thirty.” Betty caught it, or thought she did, and hesitated. “Uh… thirty percent?” she ventured, her voice uncertain. “With, um, interest on interest? And I trust you to just… pick a number that covers your expenses. Whatever’s easiest. I don’t want to burden you with unnecessary book keeping. I hate that stuff.”

Laura’s eyes gleamed, her tone warm but decisive. “Deal, bestie! I’ll handle the paperwork, keeping it as simple as I can for all of us. You focus on school and being our perfect slave.”

Betty’s relief was palpable, her shoulders relaxing as she smiled. She went to group hug her besties. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Shannon ruffled her hair, laughing. “You’d be lost, pup. Now, let’s get you some dinner—mush or a treat?”

Betty giggled, her submissive haze settling back in. “Treat, please.”

A few days later, Laura presented Betty with a stack of legal documents, her demeanor professionally service-orientated. “Just sign these. They cover the loan and a few other things to keep it all legit. Don’t worry about the details—I made sure they’ll hold up.”

Betty, trusting her best friends implicitly, quickly across the pages, stopping only where they were had page markers and sign accordingly. The documents were more than a simple loan agreement. A separate contract contained in the stack designated Betty as a “porn star,” with Laura and Shannon as her managers, accountants, trainers, and legal guardians. It outlined her obligations—complete obedience, participation in their “productions,” and compliance with their directives—along with steep penalties for breaches, carefully worded to remain legally enforceable. The loan’s terms, with a 30% annual interest rate compounded monthly, ensured Betty would remain in their debt indefinitely, as any bonus payments related to revenue like those from the DarkFans was absolute and would only suffice in case Betty would reach popstar like success. For their own conscience, Laura and Shannon could always forgive the debt and resign.

Betty, unaware of the account or its earnings, felt only gratitude. The DarkFans platform had transformed Laura and Shannon’s lives, boosting them onto a reliable path to financial independence. They expanded the budgets for training gear and session expenses but also their individual budget for luxury goods and services.

The slavery part did some time to fully develop. The next Saturday, preparing for the hike, even Shannon became rougher towards Betty, now smilingly calling her what she had become: “My slutty slave.”, as she put the large butt plug to maximum vibration for the whole drive, the earplugs deafening Betty except for a loop with Shannon’s voice chanting over and over again: “You are my slave now. You will keep your body healthy and available for me, teasing me with your sex appeal, ready to be happily watched, used, and abused.”

For the walk in the forest, Laura was generous enough to let a good amount of the relaxing forest sound through, while an unknown, male voice whispered in the background: “You are a pathetic dog fucker. You love to be the bitch for Brutus. You crave to get him hump your ass and leave his seed in your hold, eager to lap it up later. And you shamelessly know you are watched and filmed during your filthy act. Arc your back, offering your marked ass for any big dog cock in the world to pound you recklessly. Your juices flow as soon as you think of it.”

Betty did feel comfortably pervert indeed, embracing her low status and degraded activity. She was not even thinking about having a choice, protesting, or resisting. Especially after signing the new contract, being a slave was now her full-time job, besides college. The weekend might not have been that by the prior arrangement, but in her mind it clearly was now. There were no drawn lines between weekend ownership and her submission under the week. Very clearly, Laura and Shannon were in charge of both, and Betty was consent with it, willing to endure discomfort and even pain, for the lack of decisions and accountability she enjoyed by her guardians having taken over this part. Never ever any paper work for her, maybe further signatures if Laura or Shannon legally required, but it was as easy as writing as she didn’t have to understand anything of that, fill a form, or make a choice.

With that thought, somebody unplugged her violently, causing a sharp pain in her asshole, slowly fading. She heard Brutus approaching and embraced his weight on her back, and soon enough, him entering her rectum. Hear ears went deaf, changing the loop to the front noise, in her voice chanting: “I deserve only pain instead of pleasure.”, accurately aligned with a training program starting to shock her clit. Shortly after, added weights on her nipple piercings pulled physically aligning with the pounding swings.

The cameras streamed to DarkFans, subscribers who had few choices of shock spikes and increasing the weights from a make-shift menu. The most expensive option of changing the sound loop was taken only once. An unknown female voice mocked Betty: “I can see you right now, being shagged by this big Dane. We all are watching you, filthy bitch. Enjoy the extra pain we give you.”

Betty was surprised to which length Laura and Shannon had gone, and whom they might have asked for all these voices unknown to her. Now she had a slight regret not having much communication with fellow students, as she guessed it was probably some of them for small but quick extra cash.

Back at the apartment, they fed Betty mush laced with their piss, a subscriber favorite, and let her rest after showering her cold. Shannon brought her to a well-deserved rest, just naked in her own bed, lightly bound with a few leather cuffs on wrists and ankles. She looked so innocent and beautiful like that Shannon couldn’t resist to take some pictures. “You’re our perfect slave, Betts,” Shannon whispered, stroking her hair. “Are you slave going to serve us well?”

Betty, her voice soft, nodded. “Always, Mistress.” The deal—her servitude for their support—felt right, her submission binding her ever closer to her best friend.

The apartment buzzed with anticipation that evening as Laura and Shannon huddled over their laptops, the DarkFans dashboard glowing with subscriber activity. Betty’s new role as their weekday slave, formalized by the loan agreement and porn star contract, had opened a world of possibilities. The platforms revenue and attention mixed with their increased power over Betty was intoxicating. But the subscribers were ravenous, their comments clamoring for more than Betty’s weekend dog-bitch antics. They proposed her as a slave, pushed beyond pet-play into raw, human submission.

“We’ve got to give them something new,” Shannon said, her blue eyes scanning the chat. “They’re begging for it. Here, ‘Make her do more,’ Shannon quoted, ‘Show her as a slave, not just a pup.’ The account’s doing great, but this could take it to another level.”

Laura nodded, her hazel eyes gleaming with calculation. “Yeah, the contract covers it—Betty’s ours to direct, as long as we keep her safe. We can’t show her face, but we can show everything else. Tattoos, piercings, the works. And we can talk to the viewers live, thanks to those earplugs.”

Shannon grinned, her braid swinging. “Exactly. She’s deaf with those noise-canceling plugs. We can interact with the chat, take their suggestions, and she’ll never know. But we’ve gotta be careful—some of these ideas are wild, and we can’t do everything they want in one session.”

Laura leaned back, tapping her chin. “Let’s start with a showcase stream—introduce her as our slave, demo the devices, set up a menu for paid actions. We’ll need to limit what’s feasible, keep it safe. No permanent damage, no exposure.”

“Deal,” Shannon said. “Let’s plan it for tomorrow night. College is out, Betty’s free, and we can set up the living room like a studio.”