The knee-boots were hand-stitched in mirror-mirage tawny calf leather, of suppleness that enabled them to be eased over the stockings, and take on a poor rendition, redolent of the shape of Anastasia’s curvaceous calves.

Both her maids blushed as they held Anastasia’s wolf-fur bloomers at the ready. Fur-lined inside, stitched fur on the outside, the blushes were from the passing thought about the sweet lips this nether garment would shortly contain.

After the waistband of the bloomers had halved the distance up Anastasia’s handsome thighs, she stood up from her seat, and had them gentled the rest of the distance, so that they covered her innocent intimacy, the apparition of her apparently pre-pubic pod, as well as the exciting elliptic enticements of her sumptuous rump.

Her boots being sans heels, Anastasia stood on the boots squared-off toes on big-toe tiptoe, her legs thus taking on the maximality of erotic shapeliness, her locked-back knees delightful dimples, and her buttocks scooped scallops, as her muscles were intentionally tensioned, and thus her bottom’s cheeks sides, were helloed to hallowed heavenly deep concave hollows.

As she performed the dutiful beautiful honour of drawing tight the imperial purple ribbon in the top of the bloomers, in the waistband now just above Anastasia’s hipbones, into a neat decorative bow at her lower belly, Anastasia’s senior maid blushed anew.

The pure white silk under-slip, was rolled up before the slim arms aloft, went through its shoulder straps, and it could and would slide down the equally silken smoothness of the soon-to-be wearer, till its hem flowed to and fro momentarily, before settling its rose-weave leaves-thorns-and-flowers trimming, just below Anastasia’s knees.

The pure white thick cotton dress had been chosen for its plainness, and corresponding contribution to half-hearted disguise.

As the maids worked its waistband up over the underskirt, its bodice hung forward loose. The waist in place and the skirt, which belled out down with its hem at the heels of Anastasia’s boots, had any tucks or creases straightened.

The dress bodice came next.

Anastasia’s pretty arms, with their minimal muscularity, were introduced to the long sleeves, which were buttoned at cuffed wrists. This after the peasant style dress, had had its bodice drawn over her breast and breasts, so that it could be buttoned up its mid-back, from where her curved spine swerved up from her bottom’s top, to the high collar at her slender neck.

All this under the splendour sensational of her ankle-length furious-fire-flame cascaded cavalcaded cape of confusing circinate circumcentred circumducting cupric copper circumfusing red curls.

Even as a girl, Anastasia had loved to touch her sweet cheek on the white wolf-fur of coats such as the garment being brought to her now.

And the maids, who had known her since she was a child, let her perform that delight and delighting little duty, before one lifted her golden tresses, and the other helped her into the double-fur-lined inner, and enfolded her wonder in the fur lined outer. So that Anastasia cuddled and snuggled safe and warm in the three layers of wolf-fur the coat comprised, as its double-breasted wings were overlapped and slowly buttoned, from her ankles to the wing collar at her delicately dimpled chin.

The porcelain pretty face, with its delight of dancing freckles, now smiled out with the confidence of its youth at her dear momma, the Czarina, who could not help a tear of concern cornering her eyes, as she looked on her favourite daughter.

Fine white tooled-kid-leather fur mittens the maids now pulled onto her pretty handsover the cuffs of her dress.

A wolf-fur muff was anchored to her left wrist with a slim slip-chord, ready.

A white wolf-fur hat, a fur fez: a large soft fez festooned with a peacock’s tail-feather for delight, and with ear flaps that, when tied down, linked by a ribbon bow under the chin, was placed saucily on the inspirationally sensational coiffure curls.

Anastasia was ready for her mission.

Anastasia’s pretty face flushed blushed.

“Are you alright my sweet treasure? the Czarina coaxed.

After all the bathing and dressing, Anastasia did not like to say that she needed to go that she needed to spend a kopeck’. Perhaps nervousness had prompted the need to liberate a libation. Anastasia told herself to control her bladder, and smiled at her momma.

“I’m fine momma. Truly I’m fine”, Anastasia smiled with the love in her heart shining from her sparkling mauve eyes, and her moist pursed confident cheery cherry lips.

The Czarina kissed her lovely daughter’s sweet soft cheek, and took her gloved right hand, to lead her to the stables.

.

A jinkle jingle from tossed harnessed heads, seeming to nod in signal of greeting to the lovely princess as she wiggled into the stables with the Czarina, told the two women that the ponygirls had been tacked out and were ready for the shafts.

The ponies, all ex-Clitorian Guard who had decided to extend the honour of serving the royal household beyond military service, now broken to nervous skittish ponygirl, were all-three consequently over six-feet tall, with legs of an incredulity of length strength and completely compelling curvature: fresh, and correspondingly friskily frolicsome.

‘Iskra’, the astounding, simply stunning negress, would lead the trinity as it pulled the troika, and would be accompanied by Pravda and Siberia’, two very attractive Caucasian blondes.

Anastasia had always marvelled at the near nakedness of ponygirls in winter. The only duty paid to the bitter cold of the October snows, was the fur garter the three ponygirls wore on their left thighs. It could only be assumed that the heavy load at high speed as they hauled the sleds, worked to heat their muscles such that they did not feel the sub-zero cold.

Anastasia’s lifelong love of all things pony showed, when she broke away from her momma, and wiggle-ran in her tiptoe topping boots, over to Iskra, and stroked the negress face with the pure innocent love of the pure virgin girl she, Anastasia, had been, and still was.

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