She was as good as any archer back in France, fished in the shoals around the islands, and learnt to shoot wild pigs. When she returned to France only...6 months earlier, her Father and new stepmother tried to change her dramatically. No more man style horse riding, shooting or archery and definitely no pants. Ava was not used to layers upon layers of restrictive undergarments, let alone crinoline skirts and billowing gowns. There was a soft rap at the door from the maid, ‘Miss Moreau, I’ve. Fancy a drink?’ And so, my tits out, I sat with her and drank a glass of wine. She was in no hurry. She’d taken off her jacket and I was rather surprised to see a silk camisole of pure and almost sheer white silk where I had expected a t shirt. Her muscles were impressive as, I have to say, were her nipples. I didn’t know at that moment if it was their normal state or arousal but they were something else. ‘You look good like that.’ ‘So do you.’ ‘Wait here.’ I wasn’t going anywhere. When Tammy. More

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