Riley suggests a private “retraining” session in the dorm to curb your defiance.

Riley’s suggestion hung in the air, her smirk widening as the crowd dispersed, leaving the hallway eerily silent. “Let’s take this back to the dorm,” she said, her voice low and commanding. Emma tugged the leash, forcing you to stumble after them, the pacifier in your mouth stifling any protest. The sheer black chiffon of your “Crestwood Pet” monogrammed bra and panties scratched against your skin with every step, a reminder of your vulnerability.

Back in the dorm, Riley locked the door, her eyes glinting with intent. “Defiance won’t do,” she murmured, pulling a thick, crinkling diaper from a drawer. Emma held your arms as Riley knelt, securing the diaper around you with practiced ease, its bulk forcing your legs apart. “This’ll remind you who’s in charge,” Riley said, snapping the waistband. The weight of it, paired with the chastity cage’s pressure, deepened your submission. Emma adjusted the pacifier, her smile cold. “Let’s see how long you last.”