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An acquaintance asks me to photograph his girlfriend.

The November air cooled her glistening sweat, making her nipples stand erect.

Other than the harness and straps the woman was naked, her shoulders, arms and breasts fully on show.

Her head was bridled with a complex set of straps with blinkers on each side, and she stood breathing hard around a silicon bit that forced her mouth open.

Her eyes were blue, and as they had caught me watching her with the binoculars she averted her eyes and blushed profusely, struggling to maintain her exposed position.

I cut the engine and steadied the barge with the boat pole to let the mysterious woman in the butty boat catch up again.

She responded with another crack of the whip that shattered the silence of the surrounding countryside and I used the binoculars once more to watch the young woman as she lowered her naked arms and resumed towing the butty boat by a rope tied to the back of her harness at the base of her back.

Having let the butty boat come to a halt, the young woman had to work hard to give the boat the necessary momentum to move forward and her thigh muscles strained as she leaned forward, her teeth biting against the bit.

The strain eased with each step until the woman was able to walk slowly, still slightly stooped with her burden, and pull the butty boat through the water, the other lady sipping a glass of champagne and smiling contentedly as she drew alongside me once again.

I handed the woman her binoculars back as she floated by and she took them with a smile.

"Intrigued? Of course you are. Join us for breakfast at Salwick bridge."

I followed behind the Orfords' butty boat, my engine barely running and enjoying the reflection of the trees overhanging the canal as they rippled in our wake and grew calm again in our passing.

The morning sun still back lit my view along the roof of the barge, casting long shadows from the tarpaulin stretched over the hatch and the ropes and barge pole lying alongside.

Ahead was the canal, slightly curving towards the small stone bridge and one could nearly forget that in the cold shadows of the trees' canopy, the girl in the harness and bridle was towing the butty boat along.

Occasionally the sun would shine through a gap in the trees and the woman's naked shoulders and arms, pale against the black leather would suddenly appear, or her exposed buttocks framed by the leather straps that kept her harness in place.

It was still early, but I wandered how many passers-by had seen the exposed woman hauling the boat along in the frosty November morning.

The Orford's narrow boat was moored up at Salwick Bridge and I guided my barge to the next available mooring pin, letting her fenders take the gentle impact against the bank before tying her up tight.

As I walked up the towpath towards the 'Orford's Retreat' a tall man jumped deftly from the barge, dressed as a Victorian gentleman, and wrapping the harnessed girl in a blanket, hugged her warmly.

He gently unclasped her bridle and removed it from her head and she stared up at him adoringly.

I hadn't realized until then that the steel ring through her septum wasn't part of the bridle, but she stood with her head rapturously against his chest, the sun glinting off the metal in her nose.

Even as she stood in the man's arms, her eyes closed in his embrace, the woman from the butty boat snapped a chain to her nose ring and yanked her free from the embrace.

The young woman held the blanket close around her body as she was hauled over to a mooring pin and her chain locked around it.

"Well, I am quite ravenous after all that fresh air!" the woman declared, turning and striding towards the 'Hand and Dagger' pub.

Inside the pub, the groups' Victorian garb and the man's great sweep of his top hat ensured a lively welcome and we were warmly greeted and guided to the table before the roaring wood fire.

"Four miles and three and a half furlongs and the poor dear looks exhausted!" The woman from the butty boat announced, her eyes peering d

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