the rules for Alexia?

Roxy's gloved fingers tightened around the stolen bag's strap, the leather creaking as she leaned in until her hot breath fogged against Alexia's ear. "You'll walk with me to the convention center," she whispered, the words sticky with triumph. "And we're going to have some new rules.."

Alexia's stockinged knees knocked together as Roxy's free hand trailed down her trembling arm, the white glove snagging on the lace trim of her puffy sleeve. A passing businessman coughed into his fist, his eyes darting away from the spectacle—Princess Peach with smeared lipstick and a wig sitting crooked, her dress hem fluttering just high enough to betray the absence beneath.

Alexia's breath hitched as Roxy's gloved fingers curled around her wrist, the leather warm and unyielding against her bare skin. The train station's flickering lights painted stripes of shadow across Roxy's smirk as she tugged Alexia forward, her stolen bag swaying with each step. "Rule one," Roxy murmured, her thumb pressing into Alexia's pulse point, "no crossing your legs."

Alexia’s breath caught as Roxy’s grip tightened, forcing her to uncross her legs with a mortified shudder. The cool station air rushed against her bare skin, making the fabric of her dress cling and shift with every hesitant step.

"Rule two," Roxy murmured, dragging the tip of her glove along the back of Alexia’s knee, "no pulling your dress down when the wind blows." She smirked as Alexia’s hands twitched at her sides, fingers curling helplessly against the temptation to cover herself. The stolen bag swung mockingly from Roxy’s shoulder, its contents jingling with every step—her phone, her keys, her dignity.

Alexia’s cheeks burned as a gust of wind teased the hem of her dress, the fabric fluttering just high enough to expose a sliver of **** skin before settling back against her trembling thighs. Roxy’s laugh was low, satisfied, as she tugged Alexia closer, her gloved fingers digging into the soft flesh of her wrist.

"Rule three," Roxy purred, her cherry-slick lips brushing the shell of Alexia’s ear, the scent of artificial sweetness thick between them. "You’ll smile for every picture, and you’ll say yes to every picture."

Alexia swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear and humiliation. She could feel the heat of Roxy's breath against her neck, the leather of her gloves pressing into her wrist. She knew there was no point in resisting anymore—Roxy had the upper hand, and she was determined to make Alexia pay for their long-standing rivalry.

Roxy’s fingers tightened, her grip turning Alexia’s wrist bone to fire beneath the leather. “Well?” she murmured, tilting her head so the station lights caught the cruel amusement in her eyes. “Do you agree to the rules, Alexia?”

She knew she had **** but to agree. The thought of Roxy showing her exposed body to the entire convention was too terrifying to contemplate.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice shaking with fear and humiliation. "I agree to the rules."

Roxy's gloved hand tightened around Alexia's wrist, her grip firm but not painful. "Good," she purred, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Because I have a feeling this is going to be a very interesting day."

With that, Roxy pulled Alexia out of the station and onto the busy city street. The cold wind whipped around them, threatening to tear the fabric of Alexia's dress and expose her even further. But she couldn't resist—Roxy had the bag, and she needed it back.