Sensual Redamancy

Chapter 2

•𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑰𝑨•

"Tighten the corset," the elderly woman with a thick Russian accent in charge of my wedding preparations ordered firmly.

My eyes stayed glued to my reflection in the body-length mirror as the strings of the corset were diligently pulled at my back until the corset fit me perfectly like a glove.

The tiny glimmery pearls embellished on the corset traced the sweetheart neckline beautifully, some scattered artistically around my chest.

The cleavage the corset left was decent but still prominent and eye-catching for someone like me with considerably bigger than average tits.

The rest of the dress flowed down my waist elegantly in ruffled layers of great volume with more pearls on the seams, giving an overall dazzling effect.

I'd never felt so exquisite in a dress, my perfectly chiselled shoulders and collarbone exposed in a comfortably attractive way.

Beautiful as I felt, the unsettling sensation at the pit of my stomach only seemed to multiply. Traditionally, brides wore white for the wedding and stood out in the colour, but somehow, my gown, exquisite as it was, was all black.

Everything was strictly black in a way that gave me nauseating chills and a shudder of whether this was a wedding or a funeral.

Nothing on me had colour, except my skin growing paler with every passing second and nagging thoughts of how doomed I was.

Even the lacy gloves I wore were in black as well as the professionally applied lipstick on my lips that wouldn't smudge even a little bit when I tried rubbing it off with both my hands and a wet towel.

The strictness on the colour black was infuriating, especially the strict requirement that I had to dye my hair black as well.

That, I'd stood my ground to deny, threatening to disappear before the ceremony began if anyone touched my hair with any sort of chemical. I loved it my hair the way it was and I wasn't going to change it for a stupid fake wedding that'd probably make it to the list of the worst days of my life.

They'd ended up settling for a wig of long black hair, flowing down my back and all the way to my waist, a crown sitting on my head.

I didn't like the dark appeal forcibly exuding a dark aura. I preferred my own, soft and light as it was and I certainly felt more beautiful and comfortable under my own skin with who I truly was.

Another deep sigh set my shoulders even lower, my chest weakly heaving up and down. I would never be ready to give myself to a stranger in this manner, but the love swelling in my chest for my family held the tears at bay. This was the part when I had to be really strong.

Slowly, the countless professionals in the room began leaving, a smaller group of assistants handling the final touches to my makeup, jewellery and outfit.

When everyone finally left, I finally felt like I could breathe, but no matter how hard I tried breathing and swallowing, an uncomfortably solid lump was permanently lodged in my throat. My right hand wouldn't stop trembling and my skin was unusually pale.

I tried closing my eyes and escaping to the lighter and happier moments in pursuit of peace, but all I got was nothing but a constant reminder of how I would possibly never go back to such blissful moments.

The gentle opening of the door followed by a soft click of it closing and footsteps approaching me made my heart jackhammer wildly as I slowly fluttered my eyes open.

I could see a man's reflection in the mirror as he paced towards me, hands in his pockets and a devilish grin touching his lips.

God, I felt weird rumbles in my stomach. I suddenly felt terribly sick.