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The Duke's Princess

Stop treating me like I am cattle. I am HUMAN!

Three hours of Verroa fussing over me and me still trying to make my throat scream in protest produced my nightmare and Verroa’s vision of perfection. She didn’t have a single problem with my cooperation as she had dumped chemicals, oils, & perfumes all over me. She didn’t hear a peep out of me while she yanked my dyed-black hair into three intertwined french braids that wrapped around from one side of my head to the other. Verroa didn’t see a sour expression on my blank face as she carefully applied harsh liquids into my eyes which changed my irises to be the color of an eggplant. She didn’t notice any hesitation as she slipped me into a dazzling white wedding dress, although if I could have I would’ve punched her.

The dress looked a bit like the one in the Cinderella picture-books that Verroa showed me when I was small and had first gotten here. I found the dress to be horribly gorgeous as it adhered to every curve of my form and exposed way too much skin.

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