Roxy's list of rules

Alexia’s lips parted, the heat of Roxy’s fingers searing through the thin fabric of her gloves. The crowd’s noise dimmed to a muffled roar as she swallowed hard, her throat bobbing against Roxy’s grip.

"H-how may I serve you, my Queen?" The words tasted like sugar-coated shame, sticky and too-sweet on her tongue.

Roxy’s painted lips curled as she released Alexia’s chin with a slow drag of her clawed glove. “First rule,” she purred, straightening to her full height, the spikes of her corset glinting. “No covering up. Servants don’t get modesty privileges.”

Alexia’s gloved hands, halfway risen to shield her lace-clad chest, froze midair. The crowd’s murmurs sharpened into eager whispers as Roxy’s gaze burned over her.

Alexia’s arms lowered stiffly to her sides, her gloved fingers curling into trembling fists. The cold air of the convention hall prickled against her exposed skin, every inch of lace and satin suddenly feeling flimsy as tissue paper under the weight of hundreds of staring eyes. Roxy circled her slowly, the click of her spiked boots echoing like a ticking clock.

"Second rule," Roxy murmured, her breath hot against Alexia's ear as she completed her circling, the spikes of her gauntlet trailing lightly down the back of Alexia's stocking-clad thigh. "You address me properly at all times—Your Majesty." The words dripped like honey laced with venom, her claw catching the delicate strap of Alexia's garter with deliberate precision.

Alexia's gasp was barely audible over the crowd's hungry murmurs. The strap snapped back against her skin with a faint twang, the sting making her flinch. "Y-yes, Your Majesty," she whispered, the title thick on her tongue.

"Third rule," Roxy's gloved fingers traced the satin edge of Alexia's garter belt, the fabric quivering under her touch like a trapped butterfly. "You don't speak unless spoken to—understood?" Her claw caught the lace trim of Alexia's panties, giving a sharp tug that sent the blonde wig swaying.

Alexia's breath hitched as the elastic snapped back against her hip, the sting blooming hot beneath the delicate fabric. "Y-yes, Your M—"

Roxy's spiked boot pressed down on the trailing hem of Alexia's discarded gown, silencing her. "Ah-ah."

Roxy’s spiked boot ground the satin hem deeper into the convention floor as she leaned in, her claw tracing the trembling curve of Alexia’s shoulder. "Fourth rule," she murmured, the words curling like smoke from her painted lips, "is that you do exactly what I say." Her gloved fingers suddenly wrenched the remaining garter strap, the elastic biting into Alexia’s thigh as the crowd erupted in gasps.

Alexia’s knees nearly buckled as the strap snapped back, the lace of her stockings quivering against her skin.

"Fifth rule," Roxy murmured, her claw tracing slow circles against Alexia's lace-clad hip, each point of contact burning through the delicate fabric, "if you break one of the rules..." She leaned in until her lips brushed the shell of Alexia's ear, her breath scorching, "...I'll punish you." The threat dripped down Alexia's spine like molten wax.

Roxy's spiked glove suddenly twisted in Alexia's wig, yanking her head back with a sharp jerk that sent golden strands tumbling over her shoulders. The crowd's murmurs crescendoed as Roxy dragged her to the edge of the stage, the cold metal of the convention lights glaring against Alexia's flushed skin. "