#prettydizzythoughts

He was kind enough to send an outfit for me as a gift for agreeing to let him meet with me. He was also so sweet to put on a record from his homeland. The music is odd but gentle. And the candle he lit is a bit fragrant, but pretty. Too much for my nose but if I tune it out. Instead, focusing on the gentle music, or the special dress. I don't even notice the candle puffing sparkly clouds of scent through my nose and up into my head.

Was my head always so fuzzy, maybe it's just because my hair is being done up. Oh my hair is done up. That's only for quite formal events, I thought.

My chemise is jostled and so are my thoughts as I am pulled into the stiff hug of my corset. As my handmaiden works on my hair while my potential new advisor gently smooths my chemise under my corset I- wonder if it's customary for the advisor to dress the princess in his gift.

I open my mouth to ask, but my handmaiden gently presses my head down just a bit to tie up the style, while at just that moment the advisor pulls rhythmically on the strings of my corset. Tug, tug, tug, tug.

"Isn't the lace just so pretty"

His voice was velvety smooth, guiding my eyes to the lace on the edge of my new corset, my head, low enough to only have view of my chest as he tug, tug, tugs, and my pretty boobies bounce, bounce, bounce.

I simply stare. Bounce, bounce, bounce.

"So pretty"

The candle smells so strong, the music is so relaxing, the dress fits so nicely if just a little snug. Suddenly my head was being lifted again.

The princess stared at the portrait that seemed to move. The advisor's head on her bare shoulder. "There you are"

The necklace I didn't remember wearing glowed the prettiest shade of pink when I suddenly remembered.

That's me! Such a pretty princess. Hair done up, nice and high, boobies bounce so much, each part of the dress tightly encasing me. Far too tight to remove on my own. My pretty high heels are too high for me to attempt to move.

My advisor places his hands on my waist, pulling me into him.

When my focus returns I'm being tugged into a gown that appears far too small for my shapes. My brows start to furrow as I open my mouth to politely-

Spritz!

I can't seem to stop blinking as the world stops dancing before me. My makeup is done, I hardly recognize myself with such heavy eye makeup and a deep, dark lipstick. My head starts to cock to get another look before my stylist turns my gaze straight, tying a beautiful ribbon around my neck rather tightly.

I finally look down at my dress, my arms are uncovered, my stomach and chest are beyond squeezed, spilling out of every edge the gown offers.

"Oh I knew she was pretty-"

A charcoal voice slipped in from the doorway. The awaited prince.

My stylist sprays me with another spritz, perhaps for good luck? Suddenly the prince was right behind me, gingerly brushing his gloved fingers against my bare shoulders.

"But don't you look beautiful like this"

It was hard to keep breathing, with the perfume, the prince behind me, and how tightly my gown wrapped my lungs.

I took one second to blink, and when my eyes were open there was a buzz above my head, perhaps in my head.

That's fine! That's nice, even.

Maybe he'll hypnotize me if I'm good, or perhaps tie something tightly around my neck.

But also the idea of someone taking advantage of how gullible I am is so intriguing. After years and years of not understanding social cues until they were stated directly. If anyone tells me any "social rule" my first instinct is to believe them. I often default to whoever seems the most confident. Even if I know my answer to be true I'll question myself with any pushback.