[samos]

I hoppe this is what you are looking for:

Empress’s new clothes
“But Your Highness, this is the work of the finest tailor in the kingdom!”

The Empress Constantina surveyed her reflection critically in the mirror. Her dress was green velvet, layered over the finest satin underskirts, with golden threads woven in the lace at the neckline and sleeves. A headdress of matching gold and emeralds crowned her hair.

“I don’t like it,” she complained. “This dress is – it’s no better that the last one!” Frustrated, she pulled the dress away from her body, not caring that she was tearing the green velvet. “Am I not the most beautiful woman in the land?” Her chambermaids nodded silently, too cowed to disagree. “These tailors, they’re not worth the money! How do they expect me to wear these rags?”

The maids nodded again. It was true that the Empress was a strikingly attractive woman. Tall and regal, with firm, round breasts and hips, she was the embodiment of what a royal beauty should look like. Her face matched her body, with full red lips and icy blue eyes, topped with hair that fell thickly in abundant pale blonde curls nearly to her waist. Her loveliness was well documented throughout her realm, yet so was her vanity.

The Empress was fond of holding elaborate processions for the sole purpose of parading new dresses to show off for her subjects. The citizens were expected to turn out in force and heap fulsome praise on the beauty of the Empress and her latest outfit. For those who did not show adequate enthusiasm she could make life extremely miserable – not so much through execution or imprisonment but though other, more subtle means, such as levying taxes in that part of town or changing the zoning ordinances so that they could no longer conduct their business. Be that as it may, it was widely known throughout the land that no dress could do justice to her beauty – or so was her claim.

Yet one day word spread round of a new tailor just moved in from Persia, one who was rumored to possess a singular talent and cleverness. It was said that he could find textiles and fabrics from the Middle East and craft designs with a skill that bordered on the magical. Needless to say, the Empress was quite intrigued with the tales of this clever tailor, and wasted no time in seeking him out.

The Imperial party finally found the famous tailor in a nondescript shop in the lower quarters of the city. The tailor himself was a short, swarthy, unctuous individual who met them with an obsequious bow. “I am Ali Hakim, at your service.”

The Empress fixed him with her most imperious stare. “Mr. Tailor, I would like to commission you to make a dress for me.”

The tailor bowed again and regarded his customer with a professional eye. “Your Highness, I understand that no dress could do your beauty justice. However, I think I could outfit you in the way in which you deserve. However, it won’t come cheap. My price is one thousand gold pieces. And you must agree to everything I ask.”

A thousand gold pieces is a lot of money, thought the Empress to herself. Still, if this tailor lived up to his reputation it would be worth the cost. Of course, part of her hoped he would be proven wrong so as to prove her point, that her beauty surpassed all attempts to contain it. “Very well,” she said, “I agree to your terms.”

Ali Hakim became all business. “Please, Your Highness, if you could just undress so that I can take your measurements.”

So the Empress entered the tailor’s shop and began to disrobe, with the help of her maids. First came the cloak, then the yards of green velvet comprising the overskirt and bodice, and then the voluminous layers of underskirt and petticoats, until at length she was clothed only in her single undergarment. “Well?” she demanded.

“Well, to be absolutely honest, I think I will need you to leave off everything so I can get an accurate measurement. You see, the dress I make for you will include a special set of undergarments, designed to fit perfectly underneath. It’s included in the thousand gold pieces.”

“This is highly unconventional,” the Empress grumbled, but having agreed to the deal had no choice but to remove her last remaining garment, and then stood there naked and shivering, feeling utterly vulnerable and exposed to the professional eye of the tailor.

Ali Hakim took out a tape measure and got to work. First he measured the Empress’s slim neck, and then worked his way down gradually over her shoulders, her chest, waist, hips, and legs. As he measured her chest, his fingertips lightly grazed the rosy tips of her naked breasts, causing her to gasp. Was that intentional? And the way he lingered over her inside leg measurement, the end of his tape measure brushing the tips of her pubic hair… How dare he violate her person like that!

Finally, after what seemed like an excruciatingly long time, the measuring process was done, and the Empress was allowed to dress again. “You’ll send word when your work is done, of course,” she said curtly, still disconcerted by the experience, and hurried out of the shop.

*

Word did come, one week later, and once again the Empress Constantina found herself back at Ali Hakim’s shop. At his cue, her maids removed her overskirt, bodice, underskirt, petticoats, corset and undergarments, until finally she stood naked in front of him once again.

“You are indeed as beautiful as your fame reports,” the tailor commented and the Empress flushed under his scrutiny. “I trust my work will do you justice after all.”

First, he brought out a new undergarment of the softest, lightest silk she had ever felt. Even as she put it on, the Empress had to admit the material and craftsmanship were exquisite. Then came the corset, and the petticoats. The underskirt was of iridescent satin, which changed color subtly every time she moved. Finally the outermost layer came on. The dress was gold and silver, reflecting the same iridescence as the underskirt, and laden with jewels. As an encore, the tailor had crafted an elaborate jeweled headdress, which he wove into her lovely pale hair. The effect was stunning. Even the Empress’s maids, used to seeing her in a variety of dresses, gasped in admiration. “Surely,” they cried, “here is a dress that does justice to Your Highness’s beauty.”

The Empress herself, however, refused to budge. “Well, I have to admit it comes close…”

“Pardon me, Highness,” Ali Hakim suggested, “why not show yourself to the city and let your subjects see for themselves?”

“Very well,” she decided, “send the coach back to the palace. I shall ride.”

Taking care not to ruin her new costume, the Empress mounted a white horse and sat sidesaddle, looking properly imperious. Then, escorted by her maids and courtiers, she departed the market and headed down the main thoroughfare.

Because the day was warm, most of the citizens were outside enjoying the late spring weather. As she rode up the street, the sun glinted off the sparkling jewels and iridescent fabrics, causing the gathering onlookers to stop and stare in awe.

“Look! How beautiful the Empress is!” they cried admiringly. “Look at that dress! The colors! And how it catches the sun!”

The Empress rode along, basking in the warm sunlight and the adulation of her subjects. Soon, however, she began to feel that something was not quite right. Her headdress, for instance, felt like it was coming loose. Perhaps the motion of the horse was jarring it. Whatever the case, she hoped that it wouldn’t get too dislodged before she got back inside the palace.

Just then she heard a distinctive plink, and a tendril of pale blonde hair fell across her eyes. No question about it, her headdress was coming loose, the falling gemstones leaving a sparkling trail behind the horse with every step. Her elaborate hairstyle wilted under the sun. What was worse, her dress now felt quite a bit looser than it had while she was in the tailor’s shop.

To her horror, the unmistakable scent of melting wax filled her nostrils. That treacherous tailor must have fastened her outfit together with wax thread, specially designed to come apart under the noonday sun.

Already she could see the seams starting to burst, the bodice opening gradually to expose her milk-white cleavage. Just then she felt a panel of her overskirt begin to disengage from the rest of her dress and trail down past the moving legs of her horse.

A lace broke at her collarbone, and her bodice now hung completely open. Still trying to look outwardly stony, the Empress was panicking inside. Here, on her horse in the middle of the street, she was totally exposed. Why had she sent her carriage back to the palace? Another panel of her skirt came loose. The gold-silver overskirt was nearly completely gone, and the seams of her satiny underskirt were starting to come apart.

Her corset popped open, loosening her breasts. With a growing feeling of dread she realized the tailor had taken advantage of her vanity and made a fool of her. She couldn’t make an obvious attempt to cover herself and admit her humiliation. For her there was no choice but to continue riding and try and maintain whatever semblance of dignity she had left.

And so the Empress had no choice but to continue her royal procession, her hauteur falling away bit by bit with each piece of fabric. Even her last silken undergarment melted away, becoming the last in a trail of clothing that had dropped off behind her horse, now being picked over by street urchins.

By now the crowd had gone completely silent, not sure how to respond to what they were seeing. Then a small child standing near the front of the onlookers yelled out, “Look! The Empress hasn’t got any clothes on! She’s naked!”

That cry was immediately followed by another: “The child is right! The Empress is naked!” Soon everybody was calling out, “The Empress is naked! She’s got no clothes on!” Even worse, the Empress could hear a faint snickering beginning in the crowd, soon growing to all-out laughter as she rode by. This only made her even more self-conscious of her nakedness, and she squeezed her legs together and tried to cover her breasts with her hair to preserve what little modesty she had left. And that is how she rode all the way back to her palace, naked on her white horse, her body covered by nothing more than a blush.

*

Her humiliation had turned to rage by the time she had returned to the palace. “Find me that cursed tailor!” she ordered her servants, throwing on her robe in a hurry.

“Er, that won’t be necessary, Your Highness, he is already out in your hall. I believe he is requesting payment.”

The Empress could not believe her ears. “I should have him beheaded for this!” she fumed as she strode out to where the tailor waited in the hall, bowing unctuously.

Her dignity since restored, the Empress Constantina glared imperiously at Ali Hakim and demanded, “Well, what have you got to say for yourself??”
The tailor gave a brief smile and replied meekly, “Please, Your Highness, you made a promise to pay me for my services if I could attire you in a way that would do justice to your beauty, no?”

She frowned. “That is true.”

“But you have said so yourself that no dress could do you justice. Therefore, by the terms of your own bargain that is exactly what you have ended up with – no dress!”

The Empress had no choice but to pay the tailor.