"Eliza love, you're looking poorly," said Mrs. Smyth, " would you care for some crispy bacon?" No, no!" Eliza replied, " I need a glass of water." You wouldn't have heard the news. The armistice has been signed, we're at peace at last."It took awhile for Eliza to absorb the news. Outside the villages and soldiers were already hanging red, white and blue buntings in preparation for a village party. The tavern was full of people and a lone piper was walking up and down the street playing pibroch.The whole atmosphere, though was sombre. Too many people had lost loved ones and had suffered so much. In any case, everyone knew it was coming so it was a bit of an anti-climax. It would take a dram or two for the party to start.Mrs. Smyth gave Eliza a cup of her 'hair of the dog'. Eliza could taste Worcestershire sauce but little else. She was encouraged to knock it back 'without blinking.'Jock Smyth staggered in about mid-afternoon. His red face and loud voice indicated a detour at the. The moonlight glistened off the secretions coating her fingers, and she became aware of how wet she really was. Cheryl could feel not only the wetness on her fingers, but how it seemed to be literally oozing out and dripping down her lewdly splayed thighs. She hoped that her new Master would soon use her for his pleasure, because she knew that any sort of touch would cause her to explode in ecstasy.Cheryl was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her Master had returned until she felt him grasp her wrists. The handcuffs were removed, replaced with softer, leather restraint. These were, in turn, clipped to the collar around her neck, leaving her naked body totally defenseless. She continued lay quietly as the leg irons were also removed, replaced by a spreader bar which stretched her thighs to their very limit, causing her cramped muscles to scream in pain."Go ahead and struggle, Cheryl," his soft voice said. "It won't do you any good. You belong to me, and I'm.
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