Darla
Berylene came over to help me dress for the get-together. She tightened my belt and I tried not to scream.
“Tighter,” She said as she tortured my stomach with the so-called corset. “Tighter!”
“Enough!” I exclaimed, breathing harshly.
I now almost fell but used the wooden cabinet beside me as support. I let out a puff of air as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I gulped and tried steading my breath as I was panting.
“You look like the beautiful damsel that you are.” She said stressing the word ‘beautiful’
“It’s really killing me. Maybe loosening it a little would help,” I winced while holding my waist still looking at the mirror.
I did look beautiful, wearing the pretty dress her mother had made for me.
“She would be so pleased to see you in this dress,” Berylene said
