Forced Royal

May the Torture Begin

Chapter 8- May the Torture Begin

"Up! Up! Up, Princess!" Some familiar voice says while clapping her hands.

I rub my eyes as I notice that it's just now breaking dawn. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and I yawn. My hair is puffy. That is my lovely bed head! I can finally make out who is stirring around my room as they turn on the bright light.

"Queen Chelsea? What are you doing?" I ask as I see KC, Natisha, and Sasha enter into my room.

The queen stands at the foot of my bed, "I said 'Up!', so get up!"

Natisha and KC rush over and help me out of bed, and they come down my hair so it is normal and isn't a tangled and frizzy mess.

"Bring her to the middle of the room!" Queen Chelsea demands.

They begin to bring me to the center of the room at a normal pace.

"Quickly! We haven't got all day!" Queen Chelsea yells.

We go quicker and once I'm in the center, Queen Chelsea circles around me like I'm some sort of new dress she wants. She examines me without touching me, for a good five minutes.

"Okay..."

"What are we doing? Why are we up so early?!" I ask. I do enjoy my sleep.

"Well, you are going to be a princess, so it's time you learn the proper etiquette! Charles is going to have to ask for your hand in marriage soon, so we have to teach you the right manners before that time comes. If all goes well, he will ask you in a matter of a week," she says.

My eyes widen, "A week?!" Great! My life is going to change a lot in a week...

"Yes, now, open up those ears, dear, you seem to not hear me a lot," Queen Chelsea says.

KC, Natisha, and Sasha stand off to the side in a perfect line with their hands folded in front of them. They are trying to impress the queen, obviously.

Queen Chelsea looks over to them, "We are going to show Arizona what it's truly like to be a princess. For the past week, we are going to be doing her up to the maximum which means full on makeup, Victorian dresses, everything! The full experience, and once she can juggle all these things, we know that she can handle the rest, like wearing a simple dress like she did last night."

The three of them say in perfect unison, "Yes, Madam."

"Dress her," Queen Chelsea demands.

KC rushes into a different room, and Natisha and Sasha guide me behind the divider. The queen follows and I notice today she has her hair up in a bun and she wears an overly puffy white and pastel green dress. Her cold blue eyes piercing into my electric green eyes. KC comes back quickly with a tan off-the shoulder Victorian dress with swirls all over it. She holds heels that are even higher than the ones I wore last night. I'm doomed!

The queen looks at the clothing KC holds, "Where is it?!"

"Where is what, your Majesty?" KC asks innocently.

Queen Chelsea glares at her like she was stupid, "The corset!"

"Oh, how silly of me..." KC hands off the gigantic dress and shoes to Sasha, and she scurried off and comes back with a corset.

"Oh no..." I whine.

"Oh, yes, dear!" Queen Chelsea yells.

Natisha takes the corset and puts it on my body.

"Oh, well... This isn't so bad," I comment.

Queen Chelsea smirks, "She hasn't tightened it yet, dear."

At that moment, when Queen Chelsea says that, I feel a gigantic tug on a string on the corset, tightening it. I gasp, because it takes my breath away. It tightens all around my abdomen, and my face turns red. I find it harder to breathe, but I manage.

"How is this, your Majesty?" Natisha asks the queen.

"Hm..." I glance at her and my face feels hot. The room feels warmer than normal. She is smirking at me, "Tighter," she demands.

I probably groaned because why would I need it tighter? I'm already skinny, and with this I'll probably look unbelievably skinny around my abdomen.

I gasp as I hold on to the wall for balance so I can breathe some air.

"Tighter."

"Yes, Madam."

"Tighter."

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Tighter."

"Yes, your Highness."

"Tigh-"

I interrupt her, "Stop!" I scream, "Please, stop!"

My forehead is covered in sweat and it's to the point I'm trembling. I grip the wall and I set my forehead against the cool wall. I breath deeply as best as I could, and I fan my face. She did this on purpose, I know she did. Yet, I don't even know why she would want to torture me like this.

The queen still has a smirk on her face, "That's good... For now."

I look over at her, her eyes filled with amusement.

"What was that for?" I ask with a hint of rudeness.

"Well if you shrink your abdomen, then you have more curves," she answers innocently.

"Oh..." I say panting.

"Get her ready!"

Natisha jerks me from the wall, and Sasha has the dress ready to put over my head. They slide the dress on and KC lunges down to adjust the bottom of it, once it's on. We leave the shoes off until they're finished getting me ready.

It takes them an hour, but when they are done my face is caked with makeup, and I look fake. All the makeup sort of itches my face and it feels uncomfortable. The only thing I like is my hair. They put my dirty blonde hair in a gorgeous and elegant bun that goes perfectly with the off-the shoulder truck-sized dress.

Oh man, here comes the heels. They help me slip on the high heels and I think I grew half a foot taller. The queen enjoys my worried look on my face when I begin to walk in them with the help of KC.

"KC, don't help her. She is a young lady, she is supposed to handle it herself," the queen ordered.

"Yes, your Highness," KC looks at me with pity and moves away from me, standing behind the queen.

This lady is literally trying to get me to break a leg or something! Why is she doing this all to me? I thought a royal was supposed to be polite, and this is definitely not polite.

I walk wobbly across the room (without falling on my face), and I take one step at a time. I step out and then bring my feet together, not like the step and another step. Step, together. Step, together. Step, together.

Queen Chelsea winces as if every step I take is like I'm punching her in the gut.

"Darling! That's atrocious! You look as if you are a robot!" She complains.

She shows me how to walk proper with my hands folded in front me and I move my feet a certain way. I do as instructed and it helps me glide around the room.

"Thank you!" I say.

"You are very welcome," Queen Chelsea says, "Now, let's go teach you table manners, and trust me, you lack those."

And let the torture continue...