Margaret the life model

"We have an artist coming here today to paint my portrait. I don't have the time to sit for hours, so I thought you could fill in as my replacement."

"What, like this?"

"Of course not, Margo...we'll get you cleaned up first."

As if on queue, the door opened again, and a team of handmaidens entered. This time the Princess did cower behind her arms, much to the amusement of the new arrivals.

"Your Majesty...Your Royal Highness."

"Would you be so kind as to help my dear sister get ready before the artist arrives?" Elizabeth asked. "Don't trouble yourself about choosing an outfit, Margaret is more than happy to pose in the nude."

"Certainly, ma'am," the head of the team said. "Follow me, Your Royal Highness."

Margaret threw a **** look at her sister; surely she wasn't about to make her walk back through the palace in her birthday suit?!

"Lilibet...please..."

"I'm sure you'll have an wonderful time, Margaret," Elizabeth said, leading her out of the room.

The moment she stepped out into the corridor, Margaret's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and her shivering intensified. She kept her eyes fixed on her bare feet as she padded through the carpeted halls, one hand placed over her crotch, the other arm protecting her chest.

The young princess had never realised how cold the palace was...but then again, she'd never walked around it completely naked!

Word seemed to have spread fast about her predicament; no one seemed taken aback or offended by her lack of clothing. The fact that nobody offered her anything to wear made Margaret suspect that instructions had already been issued to all the staff to keep her naked.

Margaret had assumed (or at least hoped) that she was being returned to her private quarters, so was somewhat unnerved when she stumbled into a large room where her sister would usually host large receptions. Today, though, it was empty. One wall was comprised solely of windows, flooding the room with light and causing Margaret to squint...that was far too much light for one so hungover.

Gasping as her bare feet transferred from soft carpet to hard wooden floor, Margaret was led into annex.

"What are we-?" she began to ask, but her question morphed into a curse as a bucket of cold water was thrown over her.

"Now, now, your royal highness," one of the handmaids teased. "That sort of language is unbecoming of you."

"It's s-so c-cold!" Margaret gasped as another bucket was emptied over her bare body.

"We thought this would wake you up quicker," one of the older servants explained, clearly unamused by her younger colleagues' giggles and unimpressed by her charge's recent behaviour.

Margaret protested as they proceeded to wash her down with sponges, until every inch of her bare skin was glistening.

"H-hey!" she squeaked, convulsing as a sponge was squeezed between her legs and cold water flooded her most sensitive area.

Once Margaret was soaking wet and chilled to the bone, she was dried off. The maids scrubbed ferociously, until Margaret's pale body was pink and tender.

She virtually collapsed into the proffered chair was they began fixing up her hair and makeup. She took the chance to cross her legs to hide her crotch...but her legs were soon **** apart again so that her downstairs furniture could be beautified.

Further bouts of sniggering ensued whenever Margaret's empty stomach grumbled with increasing volume. More worryingly, her toes curled ever so slightly as her body began to ask her to visit a bathroom soon; unfortunately, she didn't know when she'd next see one.

Once she was ready, Margaret was led back out into the reception room.

The artist who was setting up his easel was taken aback by Margaret's sudden appearance.

"Y-your Royal Highness! Forgive me, but I was under the impression that I would be painting her Majesty today."

Margaret **** herself to keep her hands down and act as though she was at ease with her situation.

"My sister is otherwise engaged, so I will be filling in with her today."

"Would you like to put some clothes on, ma'am?" the artist asked as the princess shivered, trying his hardest to avert his gaze, but still sneaking the occasional look.

"YES, OH, GOD, YES!" Margaret wanted to blurt out, but remaining composed she instead said: "I believe this will be sufficient."

"In that case, you can start by sitting down over there..."

As Margaret assumed the desired pose, she focused on her breathing and tried to remain calm.

This was going to be a long morning...