Amidst the backdrop of Napoleonic War raging across Europe, soldiers seek distraction from the horrors of the battle field. Major Grant is an officer of the British Army serving under Wellington in France. An officer, a gentleman and a connoisseur of female bottoms, Major Grant finds himself unusually captivated by a mysterious woman…..

I turned my horse from the Mews slowly to ensure that he had time to warm his muscles. Once on Oxford Street I was glad of the blanket once used on the children that was now about my shoulders. The rain fell in straight lines and my vision was obscured. I cast my mind back to a time when rain had fallen this hard. Spain was the last time it rained this hard, Spain. The smoke had hung around the towers of the now destroyed fort and as the rain had eased, they attacked again.  From the large piles of rocks came the soldiers, down through the boulders like ants through a giant’s knuckles,  and onto the open ground.  It was a fool’s errand to attempt such an attack, however, with only one officer visible he was likely to be young and inexperienced.  With at least a thousand yards between us, our horses we would charge and run down any man in our way. With no reinforcements behind them or cannon, they would soon all be dead.  The line of horses were called to order and walked in a line towards the enemy.  They would very soon drop to release a volley of musket fire in our direction by which time we would be at full gallop.  Our speed increased and swords were drawn. Soon the sounds of hooves and blood rushing in our ears blocked all other and lying flat along the neck of my mount I saw the soldiers drop to one knee to aid their fire.  Musket balls flew amongst us. A spray of blood hit my face as my horse’s ear was holed and another passed through my hat before I saw the puffs of smoke that followed the shot. Horses and men had fallen but the line closed and the horses charged on.  Carnage was moments away. The soldiers, realising their poor position, lost control. Some angled their muskets on the ground with bayonets fixed to impale the horses, however, the majority sealed their fate by turning to run.  My horse passed through the scattered men on knee, others rode over them or took them by sword. I pushed home the charge and dispatched two maybe three men with one swing of my heavy sword for they were bunched together so close.  My right arm, bright red with foreign blood and dripping with gore swung again and ended the life of the young officer. I looked back and saw that his legs had not realised the loss of his head and for a few moments continued to retreat before collapsing. 

I pulled my jig over and sat for a moment in the rain. I addressed my horse, “Well do I return or do we go home?”  The horse just stood, but what else would it do? I applied slight tension to the right on the rein to see if he needed help. To no surprise the horse turned to the right and we eventually faced back the way we had came. “Okay, have it your way.” I said jokingly, and with a smile on my face I once more travelled down Oxford Street whence I had came.  

I approached the front door of the house, a light still danced on the inner sill of the window. I placed my hand upon the door to gather my thoughts before knocking. To my surprise, the door was not fastened and swung open.  I immediately stepped over the threshold as foul play entered my mind. I closed the door behind me to delay any intruder’s escape and raised my cane as I would a sword. With my foot I pushed the inner door slowly open. The sight before me held by breath and my heart did surely jump.  Across the stone floor, mixed with drops of water were footprints, bare footprints, travelling to and from where I now stood. “I heard your horse.” She said. 

There, wearing a full-length cotton undergarment, she stood in front of a bath of water. The cloth was wet through and it adhered to her breasts and belly. I could see her breathing in and out rapidly with a slight shudder.  Further down, the cloth was about her thighs giving the finishing touches to her statuesque appearance.  A pool of water was rapidly forming around her feet and the uneven stone channelled it off to an unknown destination in small rivulets.  Her hair was not wet, however, the dampness of the day had encouraged it to produce a light wave around her neck.  I felt dizzy with passion, my stomach became knotted and an overwhelming urge to laugh came about me.  Removing my hat and coat I crossed the floor to take her in my arms. We kissed deeply, savouring the moment, her warm face against the cold of mine.  I ran my fingers through her hair and caressed her neck that I had so long admired.  She had passion coursing through her veins and I could feel the heat from between her legs against my thigh. We moved across the floor where I fell into a large reading chair and grasping her buttocks, I pulled her close to me. The chill of her clothing gave way to warmth at my touch and she pulled me closer still. She held my head in her hands and I looked up deeply into her eyes for what seemed an age. Without thinking I said,” I feel a desire so strong that I want to cause you both pain and pleasure.” Her fingers slipped the straps from her shoulders and I watched the wet cloth peel away from her, revealing large, rigid, pink nipples and further down a dark thatch of soft brown hair.  I pulled her across my lap and locked her outer leg between mine. “Have you ever been spanked by a soldier?” I growled. She went limp across me and said, “No Sir, but I  surrender myself to you.” I caressed her alabaster white buttocks before delivering the first blow of many blows. I spanked her until she could hardly respond to my questions.  My fingers explored between her legs for the first time and found her to be swollen and sticky.  Her body jumped to my touch and she raised her self so that I had better access to her. “Please take me,” she gasped. I found her to be accommodating and eased as many fingers into her as she could bear. She was extremely beautiful, so very beautiful and for the time we were together, she was mine and France could wait.