16.2 Bitch Naked Exposure Walk
The Red Evil Mercenaries' encampment. At the rear gate leading into the forest, two mercenaries stood guard. Their names were Henson and Oden—bottom-rung grunts in the Red Evil Mercenaries.
Of course, "bottom-rung" was just a label. They'd rolled through the mud together for years, so there wasn't much hierarchy among the mercenaries beyond squad leaders, the captain, and the vice-captain. Bella's personality didn't tolerate petty seniority bullshit anyway; she wouldn't stand for her men throwing their weight around based on who joined first.
Henson yawned first, turning to Oden. "Yaaawn... How much longer till our shift's over?"
"Dunno. Roughly an hour left, I'd say."
"Fuck, that's forever. Who's next?"
"Berrill and Jeb."
"Yeah? Hurry up already."
Some might think the lax chatter meant the mercenaries' discipline was sloppy, but surprisingly, the Red Evil crew was tight-knit and rule-abiding. They'd followed Bella long before her exile from the Mountain Kingdom, swearing undying loyalty. Every action reflected on their revered leader's honor.
So even as they bantered, looking bored, their senses were razor-sharp—catching the faintest rustle of wind through the leaves. They'd spot a twig snap in the bushes and react in an instant.
"Henson."
"Yeah, I know."
How long had they gripped their weapons? What emerged was Ian—the man their queen had recently introduced as her husband—holding the leash of a massive red-furred dog the size of a man.
"Evening. Sorry to keep you out late."
"Lord Consort. What brings you this way...?"
"Ah, well..."
As Ian started to answer Henson, Oden smacked the back of his own head. "Hey, remember the shift handover? The queen went into the woods with the consort. Idiot."
"Oh, right. Yeah?"
"Apologies, Lord Consort. He's not usually this scatterbrained; he just blanks out sometimes."
"No worries. Guard duty's intense—you forget shit. I get it."
"Thank you for understanding. That said..."
I never heard the queen or consort mention owning a dog...
Oden glanced at the beast beside Ian. "Is that your pet? I hadn't heard you two had a dog."
Ian grinned and nodded. "Yeah, we've had him a while. Stays in the carriage usually, but tonight he was whining to go out, so Bella and I took him earlier."
"Ah, I see. Big fella, but kinda..."
Cute, Oden started to say, reaching to pet it—
Grrrrrr...!
The red dog whipped its head away, snarling like it was pissed. Its growl sounded muffled, almost like a gag was stuffed in its mouth.
Oden pulled back awkwardly, scratching his head. "Lord Consort, this one's got a nasty temper."
"Heh heh... What, Oden? Dog hates you."
"Shut it, Henson."
"Haha, yeah... He's chill with my pets, but bites everyone else. Even nipped Bella once when she tried."
"The queen too?"
"Yup."
Ian patted the dog's head apologetically. It stayed still for him—unlike with Oden.
"Weird, huh? Anyway, where's Bella? Thought you went together."
The red dog flinched at the question... but Oden and Henson had already lost interest.
"Dropping him off quick. She said she's too lazy, so I handle it."
"Hah, sounds like her."
Ian chuckled, petting the dog once more. "Right? Haha... Anyway, gotta go before she gets mad."
"Ah, yes. Sorry for holding you up, Lord Consort."
"Nah. Keep up the good work."
"Will do. Rest well."
Ian bowed politely and left. As Henson and Oden resumed their watch, Henson glanced at the ground where the dog had been.
"Hey, Oden."
"Yeah?"
"Dog pissed here? Ground's soaked."
"Huh? Oh yeah. Bad-mannered mutt."
"Heard that? Bad-mannered dog."
I looked down at the voice behind me. "Whine... huff."
There was Bella. Her getup was pure slutty sin.
"Should've dripped less pussy juice from your cunt."
Stark naked, strapped in a full-body harness. Her massive tits strained against the straps like they might burst; the lower ones yanked her pussy lips wide open.
"Even spread wide, dripping like that? They'll think you pissed yourself."
"...Whine."
Headband with dog ears. Tail-plug up her ass. Ball gag in her mouth.
Anyone seeing Bella now—even her loyal men—might lose their shit, eyes bulging to devour her voluptuous body. But only I could see her true form, leash in hand. To others, just a big red dog. Unless they touched it, feeling the mismatch—but whatever.
"Keep going? Walkies."
"...Woof, whine..."
Bella looked up pleading—enough already—head shaking. We'd bumped two subordinates; she wanted out. Her body's betrayal said otherwise: cunt gushing, clit and nipples rock-hard, screaming arousal.
I yanked the leash. "Don't wanna? Stay like this longer then."
"...Grrk."
No fight left. She crawled after me, parading the camp.
...How'd it come to this?
Humiliating. Mortifying.
"Hic, wh... huff..."
"Faster, Bella. Too slow."
"...Whine."
Naked walkies? Crawling like a bitch in heat, dressed sluttier than any whore.
Fuuuck... that pervert Ian.
She cursed him inwardly. Worse, though—not the men she'd met, or might meet.
Shit, why's it feel so goddamn good...!
This degrading, shameful slutshow thrilled her to her core. Womb throbbing. Pussy clenching, juices flooding her thighs, splattering the dirt—like a beast in heat leaking from her slit.
No denying Dina's "beast" taunts anymore. She was one now: a horny animal.
"Hah... ha..."
"Feels good, huh Bella? Cunt drooling everywhere."
No answer. Ian kicked off his shoe, toed her sopping slit.
"Wha—?!"
"Answer your owner, bitch."
Squelch-squelch-squelch. His foot fucked her dripping hole.
"Woo... whine..."
Praying no more men—twisting on his foot, soaking it—then:
"Lord Consort."
"Hm? Oh, Karlson."
Her loyal subordinate approached, smiling warmly.