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Description
Press. Press. Pressed. It just wasn't tight enough. The corset wouldn't squeeze her anymore, but she wasn't satisfied with the constriction. Her nose twitched, top lip snarling slightly, as she wrapped those cords around her hands and pulled with all her might. The bodice itself still had more give, but it was her ribs that wouldn't allow it to go anymore. She didn't need to breathe. All she needed to do was be smaller. Tiny woman, maybe standing 4ft 7in, her form so slender that all worried for her health. She was quite satisfied with her rail thin arms, pole-like legs, and that plaster white skin. She felt a sudden discomfort as the corset finally pulled tighter, wincing sharply, though followed by a smile of triumph. She could just barely take in breath. She could feel the cracking bones beneath the boned restrictive accessory. Quickly she tied off the cords, tying the knot so tight, making sure the material wouldn't budge. A hand traced the new curve of her torso, from the small but supple breasts, to the very base of her hip. So pleased with the outcome, her face aglow, even as her eyes watered with unavoidable tears of pain.

Glancing down at the flowing silk skirt, barely able to bend enough to watch her hands lift and peer at the 7inch heel-less pumps that brought her to an amazing 5ft 2. Threads of amber and strawberry blonde wound tautly into a french twist, a few curls allowed their freedom at the left of her face. Those pale brown eyes stared at this sight, taking in her flawless appearance. For now, her make would hide those faint freckles from the one who waits for her. She turned so quickly, a moment feeling aswoon. Her hand catching the frame of the door, she shooed away the blurs of her vision with a batting of her eyelashes. Then continuing toward the vestibule, her heart fluttered, curious at who she was aching to impress.

Hardly a woman of high stature, she seems to seek the attention of the best and brightest, though often falling short of her expectations. Her attempts to seem above her class rarely fool the eye, but more for her speech and action, than her always fashionable presentation. Young in mind, heart, and body, Elsabeth hardly finds the time to worry for the consequences of her actions, only looking for the next arm to hang herself with. Little to offer, she does as she must to get by on her looks alone, not bearing much smarts or wisdom. Not a dime of wealth or hint of rich heritage, her habits tend to hang on the mercy of her beau. Morals of flexible standing, she never stands strong for her beliefs, finding her mind easily swayed and, more than not, willing to try anything suggested.

Description
Press. Press. Pressed. It just wasn't tight enough. The corset wouldn't squeeze her anymore, but she wasn't satisfied with the constriction. Her nose twitched, top lip snarling slightly, as she wrapped those cords around her hands and pulled with all her might. The bodice itself still had more give, but it was her ribs that wouldn't allow it to go anymore. She didn't need to breathe. All she needed to do was be smaller. Tiny woman, maybe standing 4ft 7in, her form so slender that all worried for her health. She was quite satisfied with her rail thin arms, pole-like legs, and that plaster white skin. She felt a sudden discomfort as the corset finally pulled tighter, wincing sharply, though followed by a smile of triumph. She could just barely take in breath. She could feel the cracking bones beneath the boned restrictive accessory. Quickly she tied off the cords, tying the knot so tight, making sure the material wouldn't budge. A hand traced the new curve of her torso, from the small but supple breasts, to the very base of her hip. So pleased with the outcome, her face aglow, even as her eyes watered with unavoidable tears of pain.

Glancing down at the flowing silk skirt, barely able to bend enough to watch her hands lift and peer at the 7inch heel-less pumps that brought her to an amazing 5ft 2. Threads of amber and strawberry blonde wound tautly into a french twist, a few curls allowed their freedom at the left of her face. Those pale brown eyes stared at this sight, taking in her flawless appearance. For now, her make would hide those faint freckles from the one who waits for her. She turned so quickly, a moment feeling aswoon. Her hand catching the frame of the door, she shooed away the blurs of her vision with a batting of her eyelashes. Then continuing toward the vestibule, her heart fluttered, curious at who she was aching to impress.

Hardly a woman of high stature, she seems to seek the attention of the best and brightest, though often falling short of her expectations. Her attempts to seem above her class rarely fool the eye, but more for her speech and action, than her always fashionable presentation. Young in mind, heart, and body, Elsabeth hardly finds the time to worry for the consequences of her actions, only looking for the next arm to hang herself with. Little to offer, she does as she must to get by on her looks alone, not bearing much smarts or wisdom. Not a dime of wealth or hint of rich heritage, her habits tend to hang on the mercy of her beau. Morals of flexible standing, she never stands strong for her beliefs, finding her mind easily swayed and, more than not, willing to try anything suggested.