This is a fantasy
It's the winter of 1862.
North of Inverness lies Castle Dunrobin, the 500 year old dukedom has known many turbulent times.
In the draughty castle are 189 rooms, all elaborately decorated, richly textured paintings coverings the walls.
In the bedchamber of Lady Gwendolyn the fireplace is alit, heating up the big chamber, heavy, velvety drapes covering the windows are drawn. Faint smell of roses fill the air.
A few candles are lit, in the dark flanks of the chamber, mists of time covering their secrets, sits Lord Maxmillian.
He's staring, mesmerized by what he is seeing.
Gwendolyn is on her bed, her skin pale in the dim light. Her hands are following her voluptuous shape down, down. Exploring.
Her legs are slightly spread, just enough for him to have perfect view of her rasèe. She is slowly rubbing her mount of Venus, sliding down first one finger then the next into her pussy, moaning at the pleasure of entering herself, slowly she slides her fingers in and out, pleasure mounting.
She takes one finger from her pussy and brings it to her mouth, tasting herself. She knows he is there, she can feel his presence.
He longs to join her, but can't intrude on this holy circle...
She takes up the toy next to her and slides it in, her back arching as she takes to the joy of having it, her breath is panting, her moans becoming more and more intense...it's coming, it's coming!!! A million stars explode in her loins.... She get's lost in oblivion for what seems like an eon.
She lies back, spent and delirious...slightly turning her head, Gwendolyn stares to where Max is sitting.