Try to stand up

The hallway’s cold tiles bit into your knees as you crawled, the frilly pink dress dragging behind you. The diaper, emblazoned with “Crestwood’s Pet,” crinkled with every move, the chastity cage a relentless pressure. Laughter from the crowd echoed, their phones capturing your shame. You couldn’t take it anymore—your legs trembled as you pushed yourself up, defiance flickering. The dress’s lace ruffles swished, drawing more eyes.
Emma’s gaze turned icy. “Bad pet,” she snapped, yanking the leash so hard you stumbled. She spun you around, bending you over, the dress’s hem lifting to expose the diaper fully. The crowd’s gasps turned to jeers as Emma’s hand cracked down, a sharp spank reverberating. Your face burned, the sting secondary to the humiliation.

Riley, filming it all, laughed. “Look at our little princess!” she mocked, zooming in. A tall, dark-skinned basketball player emerged from the crowd, his deep voice cutting through. “Need a hand, Emma?” he asked, smirking. Emma handed him the leash. “Teach him a lesson, Malik.” Your stomach dropped, Crestwood’s dominance tightening its grip.