The Dirt-Poor Colonial Private Donning the Princess's Corset (Entering the Royal Palace)
When I turned my gaze out the window, fertile countryside stretched endlessly before me.
Beneath the bright sunlight a broad river ran full and deep, and beyond its far bank a vast cityscape came into view—beautiful streets lined with white houses.
“Princess, we will arrive shortly.”
At the cheerful report of the escort knight I merely nodded in silence.
At the end of those streets a great castle rose in solitary grandeur.
That, I knew, would be the most beautiful palace in the world where I was henceforth to dwell—Silvermoon.
The white, elegant keep and its outer walls were of a scale so overwhelming and so dazzling that they would not have suffered by comparison even with the imperial palace of the Empire itself.
The four-horse carriage that bore me crossed the moat and entered the inner bailey.
The castle looked less like a fortress than a colossal work of art plastered over with gold and jewels.
It stood in a different dimension entirely from the crude castles of Latvia, which, throughout the long civil war, had been piled high with no thought for beauty, only for keeping the enemy out.
The courtyard was vast and majestic enough for hundreds of men to form ranks.
Through the carriage window I surveyed the breathtaking panorama of keep and court and could not suppress an inward gasp of astonishment at splendor that far outstripped anything I had imagined. Flower baskets hung in graceful abundance along the walls that rose on either side, and enormous banners embroidered with the royal crest fluttered softly in the breeze.
When the carriage drew to a halt in the courtyard the escort knights dismounted.
Sword Master Gilbert extended his hand with courteous care so that I might alight in comfort.
Taking that hand I stepped lightly down and set foot for the first time inside the palace of Astria. A smile filled with swelling joy and wonder rose unbidden to my lips.
Even here in the very heart of Astria every eye fixed solely upon me. Concealing my fluster I made a deliberate effort to move as though I were a royal of Astria to the very marrow of my bones.
I lifted my chin a fraction and composed my features into an expression of proud, elegant composure.
Passing through the central entrance hall I saw a vast spiral staircase rising within.
On the ground floor knights stood rigid at attention.
As one they rendered a crisp salute in greeting.
Their posture was flawless, yet over those stiff necks I felt with vivid clarity their sticky glances sliding toward the deep valley of my décolletage.
The instant those blatant stares registered, the female sensations that sheathed my body slammed through my mind.
The silken brush of long, radiant golden hair against nape and cheek; the breath-stealing constriction of the corset crushing my breasts together; the thin lace panties clinging damply to my crotch—all of it flared hot once more.
The dress left shoulders and upper chest deliciously bare, the cleavage gathered and thrust upward by the corset swaying with every step in intoxicating display.
Shame coiled and boiled inside my chest, scorching my skin.
With each pace the sharp click of high heels rang brightly through the hall.
And with every step the full swell of my breasts, the narrow cinch of my waist, the ripe curve of my hips swayed in a dizzying rhythm.
The more fiercely those lust-laden gazes drank me in, the more blood rushed to my cheeks with pleasure and the harder my heart hammered. I felt my entire face flush scarlet. Pulse after pulse raced through my body in time with my quickened breath and pounding heart.
We passed along a broad corridor floored in crimson carpet and were ushered into the great throne hall.
The ceiling of the throne hall rose in a vast dome; from its apex hung an enormous chandelier that blazed with golden light.
Mythic beasts and angels were carved with exquisite precision into the golden pillars.
Scarlet carpet covered the floor, and every piece of furniture was wrought of gold and finished in the same gleaming hue.
Sunlight poured through windows so tall they seemed to touch the heavens, flooding the chamber with a fantastical radiance. Nowhere else could the word “dazzling” have been more perfectly at home.
Before the throne stood the King of Astria, the Queen, and the prince of the realm.
The king looked me over once and nodded in evident satisfaction.
“Leticia, you have returned safely.”
He patted my back.
The queen drew me into a warm embrace. I felt the soft, generous breasts of the woman who in her youth had been famed as the continent’s greatest beauty press gently against my own body.
The prince regarded me with fond approval.
“Father, Mother, thank you. It was a truly delightful journey.”
“Yes, my daughter. We shall take a short tea, and then you must go to your chambers and rest from the road.”
The King of Astria, the Queen, the Prince, and Princess Leticia—that is to say, “me.”
The tea with the royal family gathered around continued. At a glance it looked the picture of peaceful, happy domesticity.
None of them could so much as imagine that the person sitting opposite them, sipping tea with elegant poise, was not their beloved daughter and sister at all, but a pathetic second-class private of low birth from a colonial dirt-poor background.
Had they known that staggering truth the king might have overturned the table on the spot, the queen might have fainted dead away, and my elder brother might have drawn his blade to take my head.
But they did not know. For the shell I wore was still that of their dazzlingly lovely daughter and sister.
I concentrated with fierce intensity so that I would not slip in conversation, and at last the tea ended.
Guided by an escort knight I made my way to my chambers.
Steadying my breath I raised my head and found myself before a door sumptuously overlaid with golden rose carvings. A knight opened it for me; within, a bedroom of almost blinding beauty awaited.
From now on this will be my room. I must not be afraid, I told myself, and flung the door wide.
At once a sweet fragrance billowed out and brushed my nose. It was kin to the scent I had caught when I brushed past the real Princess Leticia, and to the fragrance now rising from my own skin—yet its concentration and depth felt utterly different.
Unconsciously, like a bee drawn to nectar, I was pulled into the chamber.
This is… the room of Princess Leticia Ritz Astria…! A place a lowly defense private like me could never even steal a glance at in a lifetime…!
The walls gleamed with marble and gold filigree; the chandelier on the ceiling sparkled with brilliant light. Furniture of white silver shone; a pure-white sheet covered the enormous bed, scattered with scarlet rose petals.
A deep red carpet cushioned the floor.
Dazzling sunlight streamed through the windows, filling the room with brightness, and beyond the glass stood a laurel tree—the living emblem of the Kingdom of Astria.
I opened the tall glass doors that led to the balcony and stepped outside.
Warm wind and fresh air rushed in together.
Drawing a deep breath I looked out over the green, wooded plains of Astria. Even the distant mountains lay within a single sweeping glance—a vista of pure magnificence.
Gripping the balcony rail I lifted my face to survey the kingdom. My long hair streamed gently in the breeze; the pleasant air, the midday heat already softened, caressed my snow-white skin. There was none of the nauseating reek of manure or damp earth I had known before. The air was almost painfully pure.
From this height the kingdom spread itself lengthwise and crosswise before me. Far off I could see the harbor where great ships rode at anchor; nearer, the capital itself bustled with the business of living. Merchants cried their wares, soldiers marched in ordered ranks, horsemen cantered through the streets. Everyone looked busy, purposeful.
It was the season when summer training would soon begin. Had I still been the original “me,” this would have been the time to put my kit in order and prepare to roll through mud. Now everything was different.
The true princess had always preferred to sit alone like this, without attendants, quietly enjoying the garden view and her books.
And now I stood in that princess’s chamber, gazing down at the same scene at my leisure.
“Ah… what a splendid view.”
The words escaped me unbidden. The panorama spread beneath me was almost too beautiful.
It felt as though the entire world had become mine alone.
A thrilling, intoxicating sense of supremacy rose inside me—as if I myself had become a perfect goddess who ruled everything under heaven.
Then I looked down at my own body and understood that this flesh, too, was more beautiful than anything else in the world.
With this form I would receive the blind adoration of every living soul and be treasured beyond measure.
From Princess Leticia’s memories I knew exactly how this body had been treated, and exactly how I must now comport myself.
First I must grow accustomed to this sensual form and live as a true princess would.
This body granted me sensations I could never have imagined while I lived as a man. Even standing perfectly still I could not still the delicious trembling that ran through me. Feeling the swirl of forbidden emotion deep in my chest, I turned and walked back inside.
My whole being sank into air saturated with the unique fragrance of Princess Leticia Ritz Astria. The sweet, voluptuous scent that entered through my nostrils soaked into my brain, driving my reason into a frenzy I could scarcely control. Savoring that strange, intoxicating air I looked slowly around the chamber.
The bed was a large king, dressed with two plump pillows and four smaller velvet ones. The pearl-white cover looked soft enough simply to rest the eyes upon.
Beautiful summer landscapes by gifted artists and hanging planters adorned the walls. At the far end a great window was veiled in white silk curtains that still held the fading sunlight.
Two elegant dressing tables stood within the room; upon them ranks of costly perfume bottles gleamed.
Against the left wall rose a towering wardrobe stuffed with hundreds of gorgeous gowns and jewels.
On the right wall another wardrobe held stacks of exquisitely decorated jewel cases. When I opened one, diamonds and rubies of every hue—rings, necklaces, every sort of ornament—blazed so brightly I almost had to look away.
Every ornament and every piece of furniture spoke of her refined taste.
And the thought that I might now freely rummage through and use this perfect room as though it were my own sent a shiver of excitement boiling up from deep in my belly.
The moment I lay upon the bed I trailed my fingers slowly across the silk cover. The sensation against my fingertips was maddeningly exquisite.
Burying myself in the soft, yielding mattress and stretching arms and legs to their fullest, a happiness so intense it nearly choked me flooded through me.
I rolled across the bed, letting out soft cries of delight again and again.
The place that cradled my body now was not the hard, stinking plank of a barracks bunk. It was an imperial bed hung with the finest canopy—something a commoner like me would never have glimpsed in an entire lifetime.
And not the bed alone. Every furnishing in this chamber was a masterpiece offered by master craftsmen.
When I lowered my eyes I saw my own captivating body sheathed in the highest-grade silk gown.
Silk gloves of matching color sheathed my elbows—garments the old me would never have dared so much as brush against with a fingertip.
I turned toward the dressing-table mirror that stood against one wall, a mirror so lavishly framed it looked almost impossibly costly.
The vast skirts of the gown slid softly across the floor, drawing me deeper into the room. Because nothing here was truly mine, and because a dirt-poor private like me had no place amid such extravagance, I felt almost afraid to touch anything.
I forced myself upright and took careful steps. The unfamiliar center of gravity of a woman’s body and the high heels felt strange, yet an inexplicable muscle-memory guided me so that I walked with elegance and did not stumble. Thus, as cautiously as though I trespassed in another’s chamber, I came to stand before the full-length mirror.
There stood the perfect Princess Leticia. No—my essence wore the shell of Princess Leticia.
So stunned was I by that impossible sight that I raised a hand without thinking and touched my own face; the Leticia in the mirror mirrored me, stroking her cheek with the same slender fingers.
In the center of that luxurious room stood a woman of such overwhelming beauty that even the goddess of beauty herself would have wept with envy.
Golden hair cascaded with elegant grace, seeming to generate its own light even in shadow.
Eyes the deep blue of an ocean that could swallow a soul shone moistly beneath long, lush lashes.
A smooth, high bridge of nose; skin pure and white as new-fallen snow.
And in vivid contrast, lips red and alluring as a dew-drenched rose.
Princess Leticia Ritz Astria… dear gods, she was this beautiful… Can this truly be me now? I can scarcely believe it…
I wore a full-skirted gown heavy with yellow floral embroidery and cascading lace. Off-the-shoulder, it left my bare shoulders exposed; the deep V of the bodice framed the breathless swell of my cleavage with dizzying emphasis.
Upon my head rested a jeweled tiara worked with the laurel emblem of Astria.
It was the perfect marriage of heavenly beauty and carnal allure.
With a sacred, graceful gesture I swept a lock of hair behind my ear and offered the mirror a shy yet seductive smile.
The golden strands that slipped free possessed a lustrous, almost liquid sheen; they felt like pure silk under my fingers.
I looked down at my arms. The pure-white limbs that extended from my shoulders were slender and supple beyond belief.
I gazed again at my own female form.
The deep valley between my breasts. Two great, round globes asserted their presence just below my throat.
When I bent forward the heavy sway of those breasts under gravity— as though they might spill free at any moment—sent a spine-tingling thrill of pleasure through me.
The line that fell from shoulder to hip was a single fluid curve; the upper swell of my breasts, bursting between the V of the gown, was almost violently voluptuous.
It was a body the Creator must have labored over with every ounce of His craft—so perfect that any man who beheld it would be seized at once by raw desire.
I twisted this way and that before the glass. With every turn the soft rustle of skirts wrapped about my long, slender legs and then fell away again.
When I spun lightly, the Princess Leticia in the mirror spun in perfect unison.
In time with my sensual motion the gown billowed like a cloud.
The woman who stood there, a living goddess of beauty… was unmistakably myself.
I was utterly captivated by the flawless figure in the splendid gown. She was at once pitiable and beautiful, yet she radiated an untouchable dignity and a sacred radiance.
My whole body seemed to shimmer as though haloed by a saint’s light.
I smiled softly at the perfect self reflected before me. Even now the thought struck me anew: this body was maddeningly beautiful.
Not merely beautiful—so overwhelmingly so that one might search the entire continent and never find her equal. It was no empty praise that named her one of the two great beauties of the age.
For a long while I stared as though entranced at the Princess Leticia in the mirror—no, at the perfect “myself.”
Skin like polished white jade; shimmering golden hair; two breasts so full they seemed to steal the breath; a waist so narrow it might vanish in a single hand. Slender, silken limbs and long, pure-white legs that emerged from the folds of the gown. A peerless beauty in a magnificent dress, red eyes gleaming as she regarded me.
This was the me of this moment.
The woman in the glass was Princess Leticia herself—counted the foremost beauty of the continent, the object of marriage proposals from countless heroes and crown princes.
She was the being who floated above the clouds, the one for whom innumerable men burned with unrequited love for her pure beauty and noble bearing, only to swallow tears of blood and abandon hope before the impregnable wall of her station.
The original me had been a worthless soldier of a weak nation, rolling in dust and dirt.
Like every other lowborn male, I had been a crawling insect who never even dared to pen a single love letter to her.
Standing guard under the blazing sun, I used to watch from afar as her splendid carriage passed through Latvia on its way to the Empire or the Academy, and I gazed up at her the way one gazes at a perfect work of art forever beyond reach.
The first day I ever saw her true form by chance… night after night thereafter I would pull the barracks blanket over my head and rub myself raw imagining her white naked body, heart hammering as though it would burst—yet in waking life I remained a creature too lowly even to tread upon her shadow.
But now I myself was that perfect beauty, that noble dignity, those elegant manners—the very goddess of beauty of whom every man on earth dreamed while he spent himself into his sheets each night!
The goddess who had floated forever above the clouds was now wholly, perfectly mine.
The knowledge that the overwhelming Princess Leticia reflected in the mirror was myself filled me with so mad a rapture that my heart grew drunk on the poison of pure pleasure.
Like one whose soul had left her body I stared at my reflection and broke into silly, breathless giggles.
It seemed the peerless beauty in the glass smiled back at me with seductive warmth, and my heart began to pound with wild abandon.
The figure in the mirror matched the epithet “incarnation of the goddess of beauty” without the slightest shortcoming. As I drank in that pure yet strangely erotic shell, a heavy, damp joy and a thrilling pleasure rose along my spine until my lower belly ached with it.
The realization that this slender, dazzling beauty’s body lay entirely under my command made the beastly lust I had long suppressed boil up in a furious surge.
I wanted to take this perfect body of Princess Leticia that I now ruled and use it to sate, without the least restraint, every filthy, sticky desire I had ever harbored as a man.
