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…..

 St. Mark’s square at after four in the afternoon was filled with local tradesmen conducting verbal agreements, children running and chasing passing birds.  The breeze off of the water took the heat from the floor away causing a distortion of figures moving around.  I looked carefully around hoping she would arrive, and after an hour I choose to walk around the edge of the square.  Arriving back at my original starting point I looked up to see a large bronze Griffin atop of a tower. I wondered if he could see her from way up there. 

The visitors to the square began to disperse in the ever-decreasing light and it was then that I became aware I was being watched. To my left beneath a matching tower near the quay stood, Eleanor.  The breeze had captured her hair and the reflection of the dying sun on water danced patterns about her face.  I had waited so long to see her I was struck with a desire to take her my arms in full view of all about us. She looked at me with a strange smile, it was as though she had been reading my thoughts over the past weeks and was now faced with the author.  As though sensing my passion rising she walked slowly towards me holding my gaze. 

 She stood before me and took my hand, holding it to her face and closed her eyes.  There was so very much between us that had not been said and now here we were without the shackles of life, we hesitated.  “What do you suggest we do now?” I asked.  “I think we should walk and see where our feet lead us.” She replied.  I took her arm in mine and after a short time I said to her, “If you could choose a place for us to retreat to, where would it be?”  After a moments thought, she said, “There’s a place where the views are endless and the water is the colour of the iron sky. There’s a castle that stands on the side of a loch. The deer come down to drink in the morning and the hills turn purple in spring with the heather, that is where I would go.”  “And why is this place so special to you?” I asked.   She paused for a moment, smiling she turned to look at me and said, “It just makes me cry, and if something can do that Peter, it must be important in your life, don’t you think?”  I looked at her as she let go of my arm and walked ahead. Her hands grasped red and white wooden poles on the quay side and I imagined her tied to them, spread eagled and naked. At that point I couldn’t have agreed more.


Posted in Napoleonic BDSM (Published weekly until January 1st 2017).


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