So Belle bathed that night without soap, rinsing her body with only the warm water, quietly telling herself that she would not let Eve keep what was not hers.
When she was done, she wiped her body with a rag-like towel and was then helped into one of her old shabby dresses, which was now far too tight around the bodice. It clung painfully against her sensitive, milk-filled bosom, making her grimace as the maid pulled and tightened the corsets.
She hadn't nursed Angel for the whole day, and her breasts were already swollen, the heavy ache throbbing with every movement. The pressure of the corset only forced the milk to press harder against her skin until she could feel it threatening to seep through the fabric.
Many of the dresses in her trunks had been made to her current body measurements, comfortable and forgiving in their fit. But this one, she doubted if she would even be able to bend or draw a proper breath in it.
