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French Lessons

French Lessons
By Couture
email: couture_writes@hotmail.com

(FFM, Femdom, TG, Rom)

Please do not read if under 18 years of age or
offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.

(c) 2002 Couture

***********

Romance through the eyes of a kept man. I'm not
really what I would consider a romance writer, but
here's my more than a little perverse attempt.
Anyway, it's gotta be romance, since part of the story
is written in French. (Thanks to Anne Baker) For
people that can actually read French, you will notice
that those strange marks that are used to write French
are missing. This is a shortcoming of the newsgroup,
so if you'd like the accent marks, go to my website at
http://www.asstr.org/~Couture/ to read it.

Whew, now on to the story.

***********

After I'd finished my morning laps in the pool, I dried off, walked inside, tossed
my towel on the arm of the sofa and proceeded to make myself a healthy shake.

Sophie, the maid, walked in tisking to herself and eyeing me dubiously, as she
picked up my towel, "a alors, il ne ramasse jamais, celui-la," she muttered in her
heavily accented voice.

I used to wonder what she was saying. Then one day I looked up some of the
words in an English to French dictionary. It said something about filthy little
thing. After that, I didn't dare to translate anything again.

Hell, she should be thankful there were things to pick up. It was job security. We
all had our role in life. She was the maid. Her job was to pick things up after
people. I was the kept man. I lived a life of leisure, sure, but I had a job to do too
- keeping the lady of the house happy.

She was the servant around here, not me, but for some reason I always felt I had
something to prove to her. Maybe it was due to the vague look of amusement she
always seemed to have when she looked at me. It never failed to make me feel
self-conscious. I inhaled, sucking in my stomach and sticking my chest out, as I
walked over and took the towel out of Sophie's hands.

She giggled behind her hand, making me feel suddenly very self conscious at my
obvious display. "Non, Monsieur," She held up a pinky finger for emphasis.
"P'tite bite!"

I blushed all the way down to my toes and what I had that wasn't shrunk from the
cold water of the pool, shriveled up even more. Damn these trunks! Why did
Diane always buy me these Speedos instead of regular trunks?

I wrapped the towel around my waist, to preserve what was left of my dignity and
masculinity.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," I heard her giggle as I hurried from the room.

I couldn't believe my ears. Maybe the French joked so bluntly, but it just wasn't
done here or maybe she didn't think I could understand what she said. My ears
burned with humiliation and I couldn't bear to face her for the rest of the day. I
stayed well away from Sophie until Diane got home. When was able to get her
alone, I asked her about the status of Sophie's employment. Maybe there was an
easy solution for this - a new maid.

However, Diane didn't want to let her go. She caught our former maid stealing
some of her jewelry and that was something Diane didn't abide by. She had no
use for liars and thieves, and the former maid proved herself to be the latter. She
was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, but as unforgiving as Diane could
be at times, her loyalty ran just as strong. There was no way she would let Sophie
go, not unless I could prove she was stealing or lying.

My only hope was to get her to leave on her own.

If Sophie thought I was a messy 'P'tite bite" before, she would see just how
messy a "P'tite bite" I could really be. I stopped picking up anything behind me.
Everything I touched, I left disorganized. I pissed on the toilet lid, left whiskers
in the sink, left food on the sofa and sections of the morning paper in different
places around the house. It was like a little Easter egg hunt of things to clean up,
courtesy of me.

To my surprise, Sophie was unfazed, and almost seemed to relish it in fact. She
trotted along politely behind me, tisking all the while, as she picked everything up
that I had messed up. "Si malpropre," she giggled.

Hell, I seemed to be working harder to mess up, than she was to clean up. I was
quickly coming to the end of my rope and missing out on valuable golf time.
Instead of getting better, they were getting worse.

I went outside for a swim, to clear my head and to come up with a new solution. I
couldn't think of anything except maybe to try the direct approach. That's what
I'd do. Somehow, I would communicate to Sophie that I wanted her to take a
more respectful tone when speaking with me. However, with her limited English
and condescending attitude, I didn't relish the opportunity. So, I stayed outside
and sunbathed, enjoying the solitude and avoiding the task as long as possible.

I dozed for awhile and was awakened with a start by a cold sensation on my chest.
Startled, I opened my eyes to see Sophie, squirting sun block on my chest and
rubbing it in.

"Vous ne voulez pas attrapez un coup de soleil, non?"

I couldn't understand a word she said, but I did need the sunscreen and her hands
felt good. She could be nice at times, a real gem of a maid. Too bad she had the
bad habit of her little pet names for me and amused attitude. I decided it was as
good a time as any to talk to her about the problem I was having.

"Sophie, I need to talk to you," I began, as she continued to spread the lotion over
my body. "I like you, but I just can't deal with the pet names and the blunt
familiarity you show toward me. I looked up some of the things you said and . . .
it's-it's unprofessional."

She continued to look at me with the same knowing grin, still working the lotion
into my skin. "Je ne comprende pas."

Damn, this was going to be harder than I thought. I was going to have to break it
down for her like a two year old.

I pointed at her. "Sophie."

I pointed to myself. "Trevor."

I shook my head. "Not "P'tite bite". Understand?"

"Oui," she said, her face brightened knowingly. She understood!

However, my sense of satisfaction ended the moment her hand darted beneath my
Speedo's and grasped my cock. "P'tite bite!" she giggled.

"Sophie!" I grabbed her hand to pull it free, but there was no breaking her vice-
like grip . . .and when she started to massage it, I found I didn't want to.

This was bad. There was one thing I learned from my experience of being a kept
man - you didn't fuck around. Ever. If you did, you didn't do it with her
acquaintances and you sure as hell didn't do it with the help. But for some
reason, I couldn't stop.

Sophie reached up, closed my eyes with her free hand, while her other leisurely
caressed me. She handled me expertly. Usually, I was always in control with my
women, even when they thought they were, but not with Sophie. The little wench
was amazing at making me do things I wouldn't have dreamed of in a million
years.

She pinched my slick nipples until I was moaning aloud from just the promise of
her touch. Not happy with that, she placed my hands on my chest and kept at it
until I was pinching and pulling my own nipples. "Bon, c'est a, mon petit
cheri," she cooed.

Next, she started to spread my legs. When I realized how I must look, there on
the lounge chair with my legs spread, pulling on my nipples, I was flooded with
humiliation. I quickly snapped my legs closed and pulled my hands off my chest.
There was no way I was going to let her do this to me. No way in hell, no matter
how good it felt.

"Non!" Her hand stopped its ministrations, and my dick throbbed with futilely in
her hand. She placed my hands back on my chest. At that moment, I knew I
would have no release, until I did what she wanted.

I acquiesced. Not slightly, or halfway, but all the way. Soon, she had me with
my fingers tugging my nipples, legs spread painfully wide, moaning and
squirming like a ten-dollar whore, all in order to feel her touch - the feel of her
lotion slick hands sliding up and down my cock. She brought me to the edge of
orgasm and then stopped so abruptly I thought I would scream.

She pointed to herself. "Sophie."

Then to me, "P'tite bite."

Then back to her self. She looked at me questioningly.

"Sophie," I said and I was rewarded by a comforting squeeze.

She pointed back to me. "Trevor," I said. No squeeze.

She pointed at me again. This time I called myself 'P'tite bite', even though I
knew I would be P'tite bite from then on. She kept it up, eventually I was
referring to her as Mademoiselle Sophie and myself and 'Mademoiselle's petite
fille'. I didn't know French, but even without the dictionary, I got the gist of what
I was saying. I was either her little horsie or her little girl. Either prospect didn't
thrill me.

Happy with the results, she rewarded me by massaging my cock. Not
masturbating me, as you would expect. Instead of wrapping her fingers around
me and pumping, she rubbed up and down at the seam on the underside of my
cock - treating it as if it were a pussy. Yes, that must have been what I called
myself. Her little girl and she was treating me as such.

With her free hand, she wormed a finger in my ass. Yes, she was definitely
treating me as such. I tried to hold back, but the combination of the finger in my
arse and the rubbing on my cock was too much for me.

I came instantly, my ass clenching her probing finger, as I squirted jet after jet of
hot cum in my bathing suit.

When she brought her hands from beneath my suit, her fingers glistened with my
cum. "Tu es un salot toi," she said, wrinkling her face in disgust. "Nettoye-moi
a."

I got the gist of what she wanted. Using my wet towel, I cleaned her hands.

She got up and crooked a finger at me. "Viens," she said, and began to walk
away. Maybe it was just me, but it looked like her ass swished a little further and
she walked a little taller than before.

I got up and followed her in the house. I knew without a doubt that things had
just changed around the house. Position had been reversed and there would be no
going back to the way things were before. I wondered how long I had, before I
had to find another rich woman to take care of me.

*******************

I followed Sophie to the bathroom. She ran me a bath, added scented oil to the
water, took off my bathing suit and guided me in. She bathed me, not letting me
so much as lift a finger. This kind of pampering I could get used to. She even
shaved me, which was nice. I usually kept myself pretty well shaved to show off
my cut body, but she went even further than I usually did. I tried to protest, but
she grabbed my balls and gave a not so playful squeeze. I got the message.

When I left the tub, I was totally smooth from the neck down. Unbelievable!
How could I let her do that?

She dried me and covered me one of Diane's silk robes. It was far too short for
me, not even covering the cheeks of my ass. "Sophie, I can't wear this."

She just looked at me quizzically. She didn't understand. I pointed down at my
cock, dangling down below the short robe.

"Oui!" She nodded emphatically, and left the bathroom. When she returned it
was not with a longer robe, but a small pair of delicate pink panties.

I tried not to let her put them on me, but she was insistent and somehow she was
able to shatter my resistance with a look and a word. Afterwards, she combed out
my long hair. I would have been horrified by what she was doing to me, had she
not been so happy when doing it. She left again, and I tried to follow, but she just
put her hand to my chest.

"Non!" I tried again, but she pushed harder this time. "Non!"

It was clear she wanted me to wait, so I did. When she returned this time, her
arms were full of cleaning supplies. She put on a pair of rubber gloves and
handed me the other pair. I figured she wanted me to help her clean the
bathroom. After all that she had done for me, what could it hurt?

She squirted some cleanser on the tub and started scrubbing. She handed me the
scouring pad and pointed at the tub. I followed her lead, but evidently not well
enough.

"Non, comme a!" She snatched it away, showed me again, and handed it back.
We did this several times, until she was satisfied with the job I was doing. She
moved behind me, rubbing my cock through my panties. Eventually, she was
doing less and less of the work, while I found myself doing more and more.

Where before she would show me again when I did something wrong, now she
would spank me until I got it right. It was a struggle to figure out exactly what I
was doing wrong. Was I too slow? Did I miss something? As a reward she
would stroke my cock or play with back string of the thong panties I was wearing.
Dear Lord, she had even taken to grinding or pounding her pelvis against my ass.

Yes, I can imagine what I looked like and yes, I knew what she was doing to me.
It's hard to explain, but somehow I couldn't get her to stop. "No", meant she
would do something else and then go back to doing what she wanted anyway.

Sophie could always find a way to get me to do what she wanted.

We finished about an hour before Diane was due home. Sophie undressed me and
set me, naked, to hand-washing the robe and panties. Afterwards, I put on the
outfit she laid out for me to wear, linen pants and shirt, with a sleeveless t-shirt
beneath, and sandals. Then, she took me to the bathroom and curled my hair with
the curling iron. At first, I was worried about the curls, but when she was done, I
looked quite handsome. I almost looked like a rock star.

Diane thought so too. She looked me up and down appreciatively. "You look
great Trevor, what's the occasion?"

"You're the occasion." I replied.

Okay, I know it's corny, and something most guys wouldn't say in a million
years, but speaking as someone who hasn't worked a day in his life, trust me it
works.

We had a wonderful night together. Maybe it was my new rock star look, but in
the end, she undressed me in a frantic rush and shoved me back on the bed. She
couldn't even wait to take her own clothes off. She just pulled her panties to the
side and mounted me. A passion that had been missing for several months was
born again.

She held my hands to either side of my head, resting her weight on them, while
passionately kissing me and bouncing on top of me. Luckily, the climax from
earlier this morning had satisfied some of my desires, and I was able to hold off
until she had cum twice.

Afterwards, she got off me. "Be a dear and get my black gown out of the closet."

She took off her wrinkled clothes, while I retrieved her gown. She cleaned her
soaked sex off with her panties, before throwing them in the corner. "Boy,
Sophie's sure going to have her hands full cleaning them tomorrow," she giggled.

Little did she suspect that the next morning, it was I, not Sophie, hand-washing
the cum-stained garments. Sophie didn't even give me a chance to put any clothes
on, save for a white apron, until the bedroom was spotless.

When it was clean, she slid a red pair of panties between my legs and tied them at
the sides. It was only when she put the top loop over my head and the two tiny
triangles dangled loosely on my chest that I realized what it was. A bikini.

I tried to take the bottoms off, but somehow ended up knotting them tightly
instead of loosening them. I put my foot down and struggled against the top.
"Sophie, I can't wear this."

In response, she pinched my nipples through the thin fabric, while grinding her
pelvis against my ass. "Dit oui mon cheri. . .oui mon cheri. . . oui mon cheri,"
she breathed in my ear.

As usual, I couldn't resist her. I ended up doing my morning swim in the red two-
piece bathing suit. She lay beneath an umbrella by the pool, occasionally
glancing at me from the top her of book or sipping at her lemonade. I did my
morning laps; thirty in total. However, when I went to get out of the pool, she
stopped me.

"Non, encore plus!" She pointed to the far end of the pool and then to where I
was, before holding up her hands. "Dix longeurs de plus," she said, while
showing me her ten fingers.

I was tired already and I was so tired I was out of breath by the time I finished the
ten extra laps. She was waiting for me at the ladder and dried me off with a towel
before leading me to a lounge chair next to where she was sitting. She had me lay
on my stomach and, after undoing the bikini top, rubbed tanning oil over my
body.

It wasn't till later, when it was time to do my front that the problems came in.
She wouldn't let me take the top off. She was deranged. Somehow in her mind, I
was a girl and she refused to permit me to act otherwise. She was a doggedly
determined fanatic.

I, on the other hand, was weak and tired from the swim. She rubbed the oil over
my front, pinching my nipples, and massaging my cock, until I stopped resisting.
Then she spread her legs. I couldn't believe it. She wasn't wearing panties.
Without a bit of embarrassment, she worked her finger into her slit, fucking
herself, staring at me hungrily, while I looked on as if in a trance. I tanned in the
sun for around twenty minutes, with her finger going faster with each passing
minute, until I could hear the wet sloshing sounds it made as her face contorted in
orgasm.

Afterwards, she took off her uniform as if it was the most natural thing in the
world. I stared in awe at her body, while she turned me over on my hands and
knees. She came up behind me, slipped a hand down the front of my bikini and a
hand down the back. What a picture we must have made. Her with her hands
down my bikini, massaging my cock, and pushing against me with her hips, while
fucking my rear passage with a finger.

Yesterday, there was room for confusion, but today everything was perfectly
clear. My role was clear; I was hers to do with as she wanted and this was what
she wanted. It scared me to my soul. If I were discovered like this, I would be
laughed out of Diane's house and I wouldn't be able to keep my present status
once word got out. There just weren't that many rich women that liked to keep a
man about for fun. As frightened as I was or maybe because of it, in less than two
minutes, I came in the bikini bottom.

"Tu es un salot, P'tite bite," she said. This time she wiped her soiled fingers off
on my stomach and back.

When she was finished, she took me inside for a bath once again. She repeated
the procedure of shaving me and moisturizing my skin. I grew scared when she
hooked the enema bag on the shower curtain rod. I wasn't so much afraid of it as
much as I was embarrassed of what would happen after.

"Salot," she breathed, pointing at my ass. She tugged on my balls and fingered
the rim of my ass. Soon, she had me on all fours in the tub, with water flooding
uncomfortably in my bowels. There was cramping and sweating, and she
repeated the procedure two more times. She wouldn't even leave me alone, when
I voided myself. Instead, she sat on my lap, made up my face, curled my hair, and
otherwise turned me into a woman, while I, suffering in sheer embarrassment,
grunted and groaned as I expelled the enema.

Eventually, she deemed me clean and began to clothe me. The enema robbed me
of my will to fight. I stood passively as I was garbed in stockings, garters, heels,
and a stuffed bra. The next item of clothing was a uniform much like her own.
The difference being mine was much shorter, ending just below the cheeks of my
ass. She tied a white apron around my waist, pushed me to the full length mirror,
and knelt down behind me.

The image before me was shocking. I not only looked feminine, I was even
attracted to myself. I knew I needed to battle back, reclaim my will, and
somehow resist this witch of a woman.

I gasped as I felt her head move beneath my skirt. Then she did something I
never imagined a woman would do. She kissed my rear opening, exploring it
with her tongue. I grabbed the mirror for support, and watched the sexy maid in
the mirror grow more and more aroused, eventually falling down to her stocking
covered knees, her hips bucking with desire. I wished it had gone on forever, but
she stopped laving my arse with her tongue after a only a few minutes. She got
up and helped me slip on a pair of white thong panties, and we set about cleaning
the house.

The day went by much faster than the previous. I was much more knowledgeable
and proficient at performing the tasks she set me. She worked along side of me,
sometimes supervising me. As a reward she caressed me through the fabric of my
clothes or grinded against my ass while I was bent over. However, my
punishments grew more severe.

I found this out when I accidentally forgot and placed a pair of Diane's pantyhose
in the wash with the towels. Sophie turned red, and promptly hauled me into the
living room and pulled me down over her lap. I soon found myself dangling over
her thighs, with my skirt pulled up over my head and arms and my panties down
around my knees. She spanked me then. Spanked me till I cried and kicked my
legs in vain on her lap. As an adult, I'd never been so utterly humiliated and
reduced back to childhood as I was at that moment.

After it was over, she helped me put myself back together again, brushing my hair
out of my eyes and kissing me in sympathy. As usual, I found it impossible to
stay mad at her.

She gave me the pantyhose I had ruined. "Lave moi a," she said, making a
washing motion with her hands. I took them from her and turned to leave.

"Non!" she said, holding her hand up and stopping me. "Fait-moi la rvrence."

I looked at her questioningly, while she got up and stood beside me, facing the
sofa she was sitting in earlier. Placing one foot behind the other, she bent down at
her knees, bringing up her skirt with both hands. "Oui, Madam," she said.

She sat back down on the sofa, angling her long stocking clad legs to the side,
tantalizing me. She crooked her eyebrows and pointed to me. Oh God, she
couldn't actually expect. . .

My face turned crimson. I took hold of the sides of my skirt, bobbed down
quickly, and curtseyed. "Yes, Miss."

"Non." She looked at me sternly. "Oui, Madame."

I repeated it. "Oui, Madame."

I repeated it many times, going lower and lower, and my already short skirt rising
higher and higher with every curtsey. She smiled and motioned me to her, and
turned me around, after she was satisfied with my progress.

"Encore," she said.

I curtseyed, but this time as I squatted, she pressed her face between the cheeks of
my arse. She tongued me there in mid curtsey, until my legs could no longer
support me and I lay in a heap at her feet. Afterwards, she pulled me to my feet,
and playfully slapped me on the rear when I turned to leave. Instinctively, I gave
her a proper curtsey, as I left the room.

"Oui, Madame."

The rest of the day went without incident. As before, she dressed me in my
regular clothes an hour before Diane returned.

I had cum once in the morning, but had been kept sexually aroused for most of the
day. I was desperate to have sex with Diane when she got home, but she didn't
seem interested, saying she was too tense. I went back to the bedroom with plans
to disrobe and walk back into the living room naked with two drinks.

It was bare luck that made me look in the mirror in horror as I left the room - I
had tan lines. Tan lines where no self-respecting man ought to have. Rushing, I
opened my dresser and found the silk pajama set Diane had purchased for me, but
I had never worn. I dressed quickly, mixed Diane a martini, and gave it to her in
the living room.

"I'm a still a little tired from tennis today. I think I'm going to turn in early," I
said.

"I'll be along in a minute, gorgeous."

I began to walk out the room, but she stopped me. "Oh, and Trevor..."

"Thank you for the martini," she said.

"Oui, Madame." I caught myself mid-curtsey. Burning with embarrassment, I
looked quickly to see if she saw me. Luckily, she seemed to be toying with her
olive at the time. I left before I could do further damage to my reputation.

My desire still burned, but I was too self-conscious to do anything but slip into
bed. A half an hour later, Diane came to bed and snuggled up behind me. She
reminded me of Sophie and I instantly grew hard. A questing hand slipped
beneath my pajamas and discovered my erection.

"Mmmmmm," Diane moaned, straddling me and settling down on my manhood.

She fucked me again, as she had the night before. In the beginning, I was
extremely unsure of myself, due to the evidence Sophie had left. Slowly but
surely, my embarrassment gave way to arousal as Diane rode me to orgasm, with
my own shortly behind.

She lay limply on top of me and snuggled her nose into the crook of my neck.
"You smell nice," she said, before her soft snores sounded in my ear.

I was too worried to sleep. She had smelled the scented oil that Sophie had put on
me, and it was only a matter of time before she discovered my shaved body or
even worse . . . my feminine tan. I knew without a doubt that this had to end, but
I didn't have the strength to resist Sophie.

One of us was going to have to go and I made up my mind that it was going to be
me . . . But first I was going to enjoy just a few more days of pleasure.

***************************

The next day went much like the one before. There was a distinct difference that
became apparent as I had tanned by the pool. Sophie, toyed with my erection
inside my bikini, but instead of masturbating me as I expected, she crawled atop
me and pushed her sex to my face.

She was hot, sweaty, and musky, from the heat, but I was in heaven. I had longed
for this moment since the first time I saw her. Kissing her velvety lips, I made her
moan in need, before I lapped at her inner essence. She rode my face, crying out
in French. I took her tiny nubbin in my mouth and sucked it, mashing it up and
down with my tongue. Her legs tightened firmly around my head, and she
shuddered in orgasm. I forgot for a moment the sadness I felt regarding my soon
to be departure.

"Liche-moi, c'est a, liche-ma chatte comme a," she cried, and then slowly her
legs loosened around my head.

We went back in the house and I bathed and shaved while she watched.
Afterwards, I got down on all fours voluntarily, offering her my arse for one final
enema. When I was finished, she stuck a lubricated finger up my arse and
fingered me, as I attempted to put my makeup on. She rewarded my successes
with the pleasure from her finger and punished my mistakes by spanking me with
her free hand. It was hard to concentrate on the end of her thrusting finger and I
was spanked almost constantly. It didn't hurt and I had long since lost the ability
to discern punishment from pleasure.

She turned me around and knelt down in front of me, swallowing my cock as she
added another finger to the one fucking my arse.

I moaned loudly and realized too late, I sounded like a girl.

She pulled her mouth off my cock and looked up at me with a leering grin. She
had heard me.

She pointed at herself. "Madame Sophie." Then to me, "Jacqueline."

She pointed back to herself and looked at me with a questioning glance.

"Madame Sophie," I repeated.

She pointed at me and waited expectantly.

My cock throbbed impatiently, and she teased my rear opening with a fingertip.
How can she do this to me? I wondered as I surrendered to her. "Jacqueleeeene"
I moaned as she shoved her fingers up my arse.

She withdrew her fingers and pointed at me again.

"Jacqueline," I said.

"Non." She slapped my rigid cock, causing it to bounce up and down. She
grinned wickedly. "Jacqueleeeene," she said, imitating my helpless moan.

She took the head of my cock between her lips and teased my bum with her
finger, looking up at me expectantly.

"Jaqueleeeene," I moaned out as she sucked me and fucked me at the same time.

It was heaven. I repeated my new name over and over again, each time I was
rewarded with her fingers and her mouth. I soon learned she would suck and fuck
me particularly hard when I drew my name out in a moan or a whine. It wasn't
long before my body grew rigid as I was overcome by the exploding wave of my
orgasm. I held tightly on to the sink, my cock spending its seed in her mouth,
while moaning a long drawn out "Jaqueleeeene."

Afterwards, she stood and kissed me deeply. She fed me my own cum, but I
didn't care in the least. It seemed like the perfect ending to the best cum of my
life.

She helped me dress again. This time she had a new garment for me to wear - a
corset. She laced me up tightly. God, it was hard enough to breath, much less
bend down. How women wear such things I will never know. This was followed
by stocking, heels, and breast forms which she stuck in the cups of the corset. I
held my arms in the air, while she slid the tiny grey maid's shift down my body.
Next, she kissed me and, after spotting a trace of my cum on my lips, wiped it off
with a finger and stuck it in my mouth to clean.

Today, she left me, as I cleaned the bathroom. When I went to take an empty
glass to the kitchen, I spotted her sitting on the living room sofa, the top of her
dress unbuttoned, tweaking her hardened nipples between her elegant fingers with
her legs spread wide and the plump aroused lips, poking out through the hair of
her sex.

I dropped to my knees in front of her and she pushed me away before I could
capture one of her pink orbs in my mouth. "Non, finit avant," she said, pointing
back at the bathroom.

Oh, God, *she* was going to be my reward for today. I hurried back and cleaned
the bathroom until it was spotless. When I returned to the living room; I was hot
sweaty and out of breath, but oh so eager.

"Oh, Jacqueleeeene. . ." she called.

I knelt down before her and lightly kissed her smooth pale orbs, circling my way
to her nipples. I licked her nipples and blew on them until the crinkled in
response. I captured the hardened nipple in my mouth and suckled and probed the
soft flesh, until she gasped with pleasure. By her response, I had just made up my
mind to take further liberties, but she rudely pushed me away and giggled at my
bewilderment.

She pointed around the room, "Une vrai porcherie." She left and went into the
other room.

Then I understood how the game was to be played. In order to get the prize (her),
I had to clean the house.

I became a cleaning machine. Not a movement was wasted, as I cleaned up the
living room. I left and found her in the sun room, with her stocking feet pointing
up in the air.

"Oh, Jacqueleeeene . . ." she said, wiggling her toes.

Her feet smelled of leather and pantyhose. I knelt down and kissed each of her
toes and the soles of her feet. However, when I kissed the big toe lovingly, she
pushed it forward into my mouth and gave a low moan.

After I cleaned the next room, I found her naked, laying kneeling on her hands
and knees on the center bar in the kitchen. She straddled a cutting board with
leftover celery and half a peach, probably from Diane's breakfast.

I leaned down to taste her fragrant sex, but she pulled away. "Non, mon
drirre."

She playfully, wiggled her bottom, teasing me with her crinkled rosebud inches
from my mouth. I had the chance to do for her what she had done for me, but I
was unsure of myself, having never done such a thing before. I hesitated
momentarily, before bending down to kiss it, causing her to give a contented
moan. I kissed it again then tongued her crinkled opening.

"Salot," she moaned, as she relaxed her tiny hole. I stuck my tongue in her bum,
buggering her hungrily. She reached down, picked up the discarded peach, and
squeezed it over her twin moons, causing the nectar to spill down her crack.

My cock throbbed in my panties, as I lapped up the sweet nectar and plunged my
tongue in her arse as far as I could. She groaned, and tried to push me away. I
was persistent and her will had weakened.

"Salot," she murmured, and pushed me again. I sucked at her crinkled opening,
causing her to moan and push back against me with desire.

"Non-non-non..." she breathed. For once, I was in control and I relished the
moment of her weakness. The moment was broken when the wood cutting board
clattered to the ground. She pushed me away one final time, and escaped,
staggering to the den.

It felt like it took me forever to clean the kitchen, but it was only a few minutes.
(I was supremely motivated.) My panties were soaked with pre-cum from all the
teasing I had endured.

I took off my rubber gloves and splashed a little cold water in my face, before
setting off to find Sophie. I think I gasped out loud when I saw her in the den,
totally naked, fingers tweaking a nipple, and gently working double ended dildo
into her sex.

I dropped down to my knees and rained soft kisses along her thighs. I tried to
work my way to her sex, but the dildo was in the way and she seemed in no hurry
to remove it. She trailed her hand along my cheek and grabbed a handful of my
hair, pulling my head in line with the dildo sticking obscenely from her crotch.

"Suce-moi. Suce ma bit," she said.

The cock was only inches from my mouth. I sounded like she wanted me to take
it in my mouth, but since I didn't speak French I was still taking a hell of a
chance. I kissed its bulbous head, tasting her flavor mixed in with the smell of the
rubber. I looked up at her, and was assured by the look of pleasure Sophie gave
me.

"Oui, oui mon cheri, c'est a. . ." she breathed.

I parted my lips and sucked her dildo as if she were a man, giving her the benefit
of my years of being on the receiving end of such an act. However, I soon found
out there was a big difference between us. I can feel pleasure all over my cock,
but she could only really feel it when the base of the cock was pushed up against
her clit. To achieve this, I had to take all seven inches of the smooth hard rubber
in my mouth. At first, I couldn't do it without gagging, but she was gentle and
persistent. Eventually, I was taking it all.

"Mmmmm, mon beau salot. . ." she moaned, bunching my hair together and
pistoning me up and down the rubber shaft.

I heard another gasp to the side, and glanced over to see Diane's shocked
expression. Dear God! My heart dropped to my feet, leaving an empty hole in its
place. I overpowered Sophie's firm grasp and quickly ran from the room, not
daring to look back at either of them.

"Jacqueleeene. Jacqeleeene. Trevor!" Sophie called after me.

My heels clacked rapidly across the hardwood floor as I fled, grabbing Diane's
car keys on my way out. I dashed out to the car, fumbled with the keys, started
the car, and left.

I rode around for about an hour trying to come up with a solution to my problems
. . . there weren't any. I was stuck. Trapped - dressed like a woman, with no
money, no clothes, no identification and with a car that wasn't mine that was
rapidly running out of petrol. There was no hope but to go back and face the
consequence, pack my belongings, get a job or maybe go to another country. I
pulled the car over, cleaned up the mascara running from my eyes and turned the
car around to go home.

As I drove up, I noticed a very concerned Sophie waiting for me outside the house
on the half moon drive. Well, at least I had Sophie. Maybe, just maybe, we could
have a relationship. Hell, why am I kidding myself. She doesn't even understand
me enough to know what I'm saying.

"Putain," she said, hugging me tightly as soon as I got out of the car. "You scared
us badly when you left like that . . . and we were so close."

"I'm sorry Sophie-*wait* you're speaking English!"

Her hugs turned into something a lot more sensual, as her hands caressed me and
teased the tops of my stocking covered thighs.

"Oui, I speak Spanish and German too."

"You lied to me." I struggled uselessly against her. I was stronger, sure, but she
had such a way to keep me off balance, my every struggle bringing me my more
intimate parts in contact with her groping.

"I never said I didn't speak English. You made that assumption, non
Jacqueleene?"

I tried to push her away, so that I could think straight, instead I ended up with my
front pressed against the Mercedes, with Sophie pressed up tightly behind me,
grinding her crotch against my arse. It wasn't the smooth mound of her sex I felt
either, but the hardness of the dildo she wore earlier.

She nibbled my earlobe, occasionally whispering French phrases. Oh, God, she
was doing it again. Everything within me screamed *RESIST*, but there I was,
outside it broad daylight, skirt rucked up around my waist, passively allowing her
to have her way with me.

"Please," I begged. "You are going to ruin me."

"Je ne suis pas en train de te dtrurire, je suis en train de te crer, ma
Jacqueleene." She took my hand and placed it beneath her panties and around her
thick phallus. She groaned, then slid a hand up my shift and poked an index
finger at my tightly clenched arse. This is the manner in which she proceeded to
lead me back into the house.

I blushed from my head to my brightly painted toes and I could feel fresh tears
welling in my eyes. ""Madame Sophie . . . please, Diane will see!"

Sophie rubbed my rear, comforting me. "*Madame Diane* is busy making travel
arrangements."

This was it then. I was being kicked out of the house, but to where? And how
would I support myself?

"For me," Sophie finished, as she led me into the den where we had been caught
before.

My heart dropped. Sophie was leaving today. It only took a moment for me to
make my decision. I dropped to my knees and hugged her tightly around the
waist. "Sophie, I-I want to go with you. Will you take me with you?"

"Non, Cherie, I will be going by myself. You will be staying here with Madame."

It was then that I realized that even if somehow, Diane managed to forgive me, I
could never go back to the way things were. The weekday golf and tennis
matches were mundane compared to the sexual bliss I had experience at the hands
of Sophie.

"But, I don't want to stay without you."

"Shhhhhh . . ." Sophie combed her fingers through my hair. "This is what I do.
Now, you have to decide what you do." She took my hands with her own, placing
them on her panties, guiding me as I pulled them down. Then she grabbed the
hem of her gray dress and pulled it over her head, leaving her standing powerfully
before me in her black heels, bra, and stockings. She was beautiful . . .even with
the obscene phallus sticking out obscenely from her waist.

She grabbed the base of the latex cock and gave a lustful moan as she flexed her
pelvis against it. She rubbed the tip against my lips. "Ouvre-toi pour moi,
Jacqueleene. Ouvre pour que je puisse te baiser la bouche."

I turned my head away. "I can't Sophie."

"Shhhh." She tilted my head up by my chin, until the rubber cock was once again
lined up with my mouth. "This is our last chance. Dpche-toi." She ran the
bulbous head over my lips.

I wanted to do it, but I just couldn't risk it. "But Diane-" I began, but the moment
I opened my mouth, she pushed her hips forward, feeding me her dildo.

Sophie moaned loudly. I shuddered in fear that Diane might hear.

"Dpche, dpche," she urged me.

I didn't need her encouragement. I relaxed my mouth and allowed her to fuck me
- to fuck my face. I gagged a few times, but soon fell into the rhythm of her
strokes.

"Oui-oui, si bon," she moaned.

All of a sudden, I felt a foreign pair of hands raising my skirt and pulling my
panties to the side. It startled me, causing me to jerk forward, gagging on the
cock in my mouth. I tried to turn around to see what was going on, but the
phallus in my mouth kept me facing forward.

Then I felt something cold and wet on my arse, and someone's finger probing at
my tightly clenched orifice. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the
strange finger from penetrating me-violating my bum. Who was it? Could it be
Diane or was it someone else entirely?

The finger worked in and out of my arse, fucking me. I tried not to respond, but
between Sophie moaning in French while she thrust into my mouth and the
sensations caused by the fingers in my arse; I soon found myself groaning and
thrusting back to meet the fingers.

I was being taken from both the front and the back, and I loved it. What would
Diane think of me? All too soon as I was overwhelmed by the sensations, the
fingers were withdrawn. I ached in their absence, writhing in need.

"Voyez Madame? Voyez comme elle veut?. Baisez-la. Baisez sa chatte."

Sophie pulled out of my mouth, and turned my head back so I could see who was
behind me. Dear God, it was Diane. She looked more beautiful than I could
remember; with her hair pulled back severely showing off the gray streak on the
side of her head. She wore her black glasses and a leather corset that showed off
her womanly charms and her large, heaving breasts. There, strapped around her
waist, was the twin to Sophie's strap on.

Was it true? Could it be possible that my life wasn't over? My heart surged with
relief at the revelation.

"Say, please to your Madame," Sophie said.

"Please Diane."

"Non, en franais. S'il vous plat, Madame Diane, S'il vous plat, baisez la chatte
Jacqueleene."

I wasn't sure of exactly what I was saying, but I said it anyway, even though it
took me a few tries to get it right. The became obvious when Sophie had me
spread the cheeks of my bum, begging Madame Diane, "S'il vous plait Madame,
baise mon drirre."

"Oh Jacqueleene, I would love to fuck your cunt," Diane said, grabbing me by the
hips and pushing the dildo at my arse.

I did the wrong thing and tensed up when it came into contact with my small
opening. It hurt, and she was still pushing. Worse, Sophie slipped hers into my
mouth at the same time and there was no way I could tell them of my discomfort.

"Ughhh. . ." I groaned around the phallus in my mouth at this new violation.

"Attention Madame, ne la blesser pas," Sophie admonished, and thankfully the
penetration in my arse stopped. Thank you Sophie, I silently said.

"Voici Madame, faite comme moi," Sophie said. Then she withdrew the head of
the dildo until it was just inside my lips, while it's mate in my rear did the same.

"Lentement, Madame." I felt them move as one, pushing slowly, but steadily
deeper inside of me. I was caught there, trapped between the two powerful
women, as they pushed forward into me. It was uncomfortable, but the sharp pain
had disappeared and been replaced by an intense feeling of fullness and
wrongness.

Wrongness-that is the only way to describe it really. You spend your life with
things moving in one direction, and then all of a sudden there is something being
pushed in the other direction that you have no control over. All you can do is
relax and ride it out. That was what I was doing, and I was so intent on it that I
almost wasn't aware of it when the forward motion stopped.

I had done it. It was all the way in and I felt stuffed - stuffed like a turkey or a
drawer full of socks.

"Maintenant, sortez!" Sophie breathed and the two women reversed direction and
pulled back out of me much faster than they went in. The feeling of it vacating
my arse was unbelievably pleasurable and made the trip in worthwhile.

Once back out, they pushed back in again. A little faster this time, and soon the
two women picked up speed, moving as one, fucking my mouth and ass. They
taught me in just a few minutes what it was like to be well and truly taken.

"Arrt!" Sophie said, and as suddenly as they had taken me, they had both
stopped. I didn't want to stop. I wanted more. I pushed back against Diane,
taking it all the way in, then pushed forward onto Sophie.

"Oui, oui, voil," Sophie purred. She brought her fingers down and pressed them
against the base of her dildo, and rocked her hips about a half an inch back and
forth in a rapid manner. I breathed in the strong scent of her sex, while I
continued my own path back and forth, fucking myself between the two women.

A few moments later, Sophie grasped my roughly by the back of my head and
plunged all the way in my mouth, still rocking her hips rapidly, bruising my lips
with the hard base of the dildo. Her sweaty body shuddered and then cried out in
ecstasy, bucking from the effects of an orgasm.

Diane picked up her pace too, ramming me from behind-fucking me as if she
owned me. Maybe she did.

Sophie bent down and kissed my lips, her tongue lingering where the dildo cut my
lips. "Je suis dsol. I'm sorry Jacqueleene, but it is time for me to go now. Au
revoir."

Then she went behind me and placed Diane's hand over my panties, and moved it
up and down my hard shaft. "Au revoir Madame. J'spre que vous aimerez une
autre de plus."

I watched astounded and slightly jealous as the two shared a kiss, but Diane never
missed a beat as she continued to fuck my arse.

"Ugh-wait-where-are-you-ugh-going? You can't go- ah-uh-not yet." I grunted,
cursing myself for barely being able to talk with Diane fucking me from behind.

Sophie stood up and walked to the door before turning around one last time. "My
job here is done. You two don't need me anymore." She blew a kiss at me. "Bon
aiment au revoir."

I needed to run after her. To say something to her-anything to make her stay.
"Diane, wait, Diane." I managed to get out, between Diane's long strokes in my
arse.

She spanked me on my arse with loud stinging slaps. "Madame Diane."

"Madame Diane, please."

"In French Jacqueleene." She drilled me now, the sound of our sweaty thighs
slapping together echoed throughout the den.

My head hung down and my damp hair dangled around my face. "Oui madame.
S'il vous plat madame. S'il vous plat madame, baise mon drirre." I grunted in
time to her strokes. It was too much for me, no longer able to support myself with
my arms. I slumped forward resting my forehead on the back of my hands.

"That's it Jacqueleene. Give it to me. Make me cum." She speared me with the
hard phallus, taking it all the way out and then thrusting it back in with each
stroke.

"Oui madame, oui madame," I cried. It was hard for me to focus on anything
beyond the pleasure of her fucking me or the pleasure of her hand sliding up and
down my satin covered cock.

"Oh, I'm cumming Jacqueleene. I'm cumming."

And soon, I was too, filling my panties with my hot cum, as her hand milked me
of jet after jet of my copious fluids.

Afterwards, we lay on the hardwood floor with our drying bodies stuck to one
another as well as to the floor. Diane kissed my neck and whispered, "Oh
Jacqueleene, I think I'm going to love having you. Yes, I'm going to love having
you as well as having Trevor."

I knew there was something important I was supposed to ask, but for the life of
me, I couldn't remember what it was. So I said the only thing that came to mind,
"Oui Madame."

The End

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