Go limp.

Your body went limp over Malik’s shoulder, the fight draining from you as the hallway blurred past. The frilly pink dress bunched up, the “Crestwood’s Pet” diaper fully exposed, crinkling with every step. The crowd’s laughter faded into a dull roar, your shame swallowing you whole. Malik’s grip was firm, his deep voice rumbling, “That’s better, pet.” He carried you into the dorm, dropping you onto the floor as Emma and Riley followed, locking the door.

Emma knelt beside you, her smile cold. “Too tense,” she murmured, pulling a sleek, black buttplug from a drawer. Your eyes widened, but Riley held your arms, pinning you. “This’ll calm you,” Emma said, sliding it into place with a clinical precision that made you squirm. The pressure, paired with the chastity cage, overwhelmed you, deepening your submission. Malik watched, his presence a stark reminder of Crestwood’s interracial control. Riley snapped a photo, giggling. “Perfect.”