Bait and Switch

I was sure the woman was following me. I had noticed her early on , just after I entered the market. I had bought a chocolate waffle and turned around to walk on, and she was standing just three feet from me and looking directly at me. I didn't pay attention. It wasn't the first time since coming to France that a woman had appraised me, and it didn't mean anything. And it wasn't only men-- here, women ogled men as much as the other way 'round.

I walked on , stopping here and there to see what was on offer. I stopped by the used book stand to see if there were any paperbacks in English. I glanced up and there she was again, standing at the other end of the stall. She stood out because she was dressed rather better than most of the Saturday morning shoppers-- a brown suit, an expensive looking handbag, and a small hat perched on her head. It was hard to tell how old she was, even from a short distance of 5 or 6 yards.

Then, when I stopped at my favorite vegetable stall to buy some tomatoes from the three Moroccan brothers, I saw her out of the corner of my eye standing at the other end of the stall by the cabbage. When she noticed me looking her way, she turned and walked off through the market. I turned back to the vendor and chatted with him as I paid for my purchases.

I turned and had taken about three steps when one of the brothers called out, "M'sieur, m'seiur!", and he was holding out a slip of paper. I went back and took the slip from his hands. "The woman there"-- and he pointed to the end of the street where she was just visible, standing on the opposite side of a navy blue car-- "she said this is for you."

"Thanks Mehrdad," I said. "Who is she?"

He shrugged. "Don't know-- rich woman."

I looked at the slip. In elegant handwriting it said: "The Mercedes at the end of the market."

My curiosity piqued, I walked in the direction of the car. I didn't hurry-- if she really wanted to see me, she would wait. I stopped once or twice to look at things, but I made sure I was visible. She was no longer standing outside the car, but had gotten in, I assumed. When I got close enough, I could see that the Merc was one of the older ones which used to be for people who wanted more sophistication than a Cadillac, but couldn't afford a Bentley. I walked over to the car and looked in. There was a chauffeur in the front and she was sitting in the back, looking straight ahead. I opened the rear door and she looked across at me, smiled, and patted the seat beside her. I got in and closed the door.

As I was settling in to the seat I was noticing a number of things. The car, although probably forty years old or more was in beautiful condition. The seats looked new, the carpet wasn't worn and not a speck of dirt anywhere. The rear was separated from the front by a sheet of glass.

The same thing could be said of the woman: She was clearly an older woman, but in immaculate condition. Her face was mildly attractive, but also rather tight-looking, so I guessed plastic surgery. But I looked at her hands and her neck-- the two places where plastic surgery doesn't work-- and I guessed she was in her 60's at least. She was skillfully made up, by which I mean you didn't notice it unless you looked very closely, and she was wearing a brown suit and beige blouse, both of which looked expensive. She had on expensive looking high heels and seamed stockings. She was also wearing a tiny bracelet and earrings, both of which looked like diamonds.

That's a lot to notice while you settle into your seat, you say. OK, I noticed some of it after I had settled in and was waiting for her to speak. "My name is Madame Leleu," she said, "and I wish to hire you for a small job." She had a quiet, cultured voice.

"Why do you think I can be hired?" I asked.

"A young man-- a student perhaps-- buying tomatoes at the market and checking the used book stall-- probably doesn't have a lot of money."

I was a student-- but I wasn't poor. I just liked the hustle and bustle of the bi-weekly market. Still, the oddity of the situation appealed to me, and I decided to see what else she had to say. "Tell me more."

"I am rich, and you will be well-paid for obeying me. I assure there is nothing painful or distressing about the – the er, task. In fact, it will be pleasurable for you. I only ask that you obey me completely."

It was weird-- she spoke very formally, but she seemed to be talking about something much more earthy. "Is this task something – um, carnal in nature, Madame?" I tried to match her tone.

She hesitated. "Yes," she finally replied, "and I do not wish you to feel that you are being coerced or abducted. If you wish , you may get out now-- and you may quit the job at any point. However, you will only be paid if you complete it. Do you accept?"

I nodded. "I can stop whenever I want?"

"Yes, but you will experience only pleasure..." She leaned forward and pressed a discreet button and spoke to the driver, saying only "Go."

On the ensuing drive, she explained a bit more. She was the last living member of what had once been a powerful industrial family, and a widow. She lived in a big house and had money to spend on anything she wanted-- but she didn't want very much. Hiring me for a "task" was a whim which she could indulge. She was quite friendly, but reserved. I complimented her on her appearance, and she laughed: "It was my job for years to look good for my husband and his associates and at his functions. Old habits die hard."

After about 15 minutes we arrived in a neighborhood of large houses-- mansions really, built in the style of th the 19th century-- the houses built by industrial barons to show off their wealth. I had no idea of what part of the city we were in-- there were several possibilities and I hadn't paid attention as we drove there. We pulled into a semi-circular drive and stopped in front of a three story brick house with a flight of wide steps going up to the massive front door. I started to open the car door to get out, but Madame Leleu laid a hand on my arm and shook her head. The chauffeur opened her door and then came around and opened my door.

As we went up the steps the door was opened by a maid. You've heard about French maids? Seen them in porno movies? Well this one was just like that-- except for the mini-skirt. This one had the white blouse (buttoned up to the neck), the frilly cap on top of her dark curls-- and a dark skirt that went all the way to the floor. She curtsied as we came in.

The entrance hall was like the car-- well taken care of and rich. One could say that of Madame Leleu herself. The maid led the way up a staircase which ended in a long, broad hallway, heavily carpeted with expensive burgundy wallpaper with gilt-framed pictures on the wall. She opened a door and Madame Leleu motioned me in without a word. "You may go back downstairs now, Marie," she told the maid.

I was confused but intrigued. She had admitted that the task was "carnal", yet she had remained reserved, even slightly distant during the ride and our entrance into the house. The room I was in was a bedroom-- the sort you might expect in a house like this. It had old-fashioned, dark and heavy furniture, a nice rug on the floor, and heavy drapes, which were closed. There was a big, four-poster bed, a large walk-in wardrobe, and various dressers and tables.

I needed some answers. "So, what is this task you have for me?"

She stood a near the window as she turned to face me and began to explain what she wanted. "I want you to get undressed-- completely-- I will tie you very loosely with soft bands to the corners of the bed. You will wear a blindfold. Then, I will pleasure myself with you. Afterwards, you will be released and taken back to where I met you. And, as I said, -- you will be well-paid."

"Wait a minute-- you want to tie me up, blindfold me, then fuck me?" I didn't ask how much I would be paid.

""Yes," she said, "that's the idea. I will tie you with one had in a slip-knot so that if you become frightened, you can pull it loose. I will tie you with these"-- and she opened the wardrobe and took four neckties off a hanger. There is no pain or danger involved. In fact, I can guarantee you pleasure."

"Then why the games-- why the kinkiness?

"It is what I wish to do-- and you should not ask questions. Remember, you will be able to release yourself rather quickly if you must and you will be paid. It's your obedience that I am paying you for."

I was a little afraid--, but she was small-- almost bird-like-- and if I could get one hand free, as she promised...

"Undress yourself and lay on the bed." Her voice was commanding.

I did so, and she gently tied my right wrist to the bedpost in a slipknot with a silk tie. "You see, if you wish, all you have to do is pull, and your hand will be free. She then proceeded to tie my other limbs. Finally, she took a velvet blindfold off the dresser and placed it over my eyes and tied it securely. As she did so, I tried to rub my face against her tits. There was almost nothing there to rub against. I wondered what it wold be like when she fucked me.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked. I settled in to the bed ad pillow, which were indeed comfortable. It was just slightly unnerving to be naked in front of someone I couldn't see. But then my attention was captured by soft hands rubbing my body. They ran lightly up and down my body, soft and warm, pausing occasionally at my nipple or my groin. I was becoming aroused. A warm hand took my cock and massaged it. My cock became complete erect. The hand withdrew and I heard Madame Leleu suck in her breath. Apparently she liked my erection.

I heard some rustling-- like someone getting undressed-- and then I felt the bed move as she climbed onto it. She took my cock in her mouth and I just about came on the spot. God, she was good at blow jobs! I'd never felt anything that good before.

I felt her moving, straddling me and easing down on to my erection. Her weight settled on to me as a slid easily in to her vagina, and I heard her sigh. She began a gentle sliding motion, slow and easy, raising her ass off of me and then lowering it again, allowing me to penetrate deep into her pussy. And that's when I realized something was wrong. The sensations I was feeling were wonderful, as she gently rode me, but the weight was all wrong.

Madame Leleu was a petite woman-- lightweight, almost like an adolescent in body size. Whoever was fucking me was considerably heavier. My mind took a little while to process all this: apparently Madame Leleu was watching while someone else fucked me. It felt so good , I didn't want it to stop, but I was a little peeved that I had been lied to.

Whoever was riding my cock was good at it, and I heard her breath coming faster and faster. I wanted to see who it was, but I couldn't budge the blindfold without releasing one of my hands. I let her continue, feeling her become more and more excited as she rammed her wet pussy down onto my pole.

When I thought she was about to cum, I yanked my right hand, and sure enough it came free from the loosely tied necktie. In one smooth motion, I released my hand a pulled off the blindfold. I was looking at young woman with a flushed face and bouncing tits whose eyes were closed as she approached the point of all ecstasy. She apparently didn't notice, but there was a sharp gasp from Madame Leleu who was standing by the side of the bed with her hand inside her blouse. I looked at her and said, "You lied."

It was just at that point that the woman who was pleasuring herself on my captive cock came. A series of short sharp grunts came out of her as she shuddered on my rod, finally collapsing forward onto my chest. I freed my other hand and put both arms around her, feeling the warmth of her still shivering body. I turned her face towards mine and kissed her delicately, licking her lips and chin until she responded by forcing her sweet, hot tongue into my eager mouth. But I kept my eyes on Madame Leleu who was sliding her other hand down into the waistband of her skirt.

She slid her hand down inside her and slowly rubbed it up and down while she continued to massage her tiny tits. "You lied," I said again.

"I can do what I want," she replied as she rubbed her crotch beneath her skirt.

That made me mad. I didn't like the feeling of being paid to amuse someone else, I would have fucked the woman on top of me and maybe even have let the skinny old rich bitch watch, but I didn't like her thinking that she could buy me. I pulled the head of the woman still straddling me close to my mouth and I whispered something in her ear. A moment later she slowly nodded and eased her self off of me. Madame Leleu was still rubbing herself and from the look on her face she wasn't too far away from cumming. The woman I had fucked released my other hand and feet from the neckties and then we both stood up from the bed.

Madame Leleu's hands was moving fast now on her pussy and she was starting to moan. The woman, (who I assumed was Marie, the maid) and I moved to either side of the old woman and grasped her arms, pulling her hands out of her blouse and her skirt. She gasped and struggled to break free of us, exclaiming and shouting. We paid no attention to her struggles or shouts and forced her down on to the bed. I held her down as she writhed and tried to get free, while Marie tied her wrists and ankles one by one to the bedposts with the ties. In no time at all, we had her tied down and helpless.

She was red-faced and still pulling at her bonds, but she wasn't shouting anymore. "What do you want-- what are you going to do to me?"

"There will be no pain or danger," I told her mockingly. "In fact I will guarantee you pleasure." I liked how angry she looked as I used her own words against her.

I didn't want to hurt her-- I didn't want to do anything to her against her will-- I didn't want to rape anyone. But, I wanted to make her want my cock inside her. She had deceived me into thinking that she was fucking me, and I wanted her to find out what it was really like. I hadn't minded Marie riding my cock, but I had minded being lied to and used by this old woman.

I looked at her laying there and decided that she needed to feel the humiliation of being looked at naked. I reached over and ripped the front of her blouse, popping the buttons, exposing her flat little titties, covered by what looked like a training bra for 10 year olds. "Marie, do we have any scissors?" I asked. The maid looked a bit hesitant, but after a nod from her employer, she walked to a dresser and rummaged for a moment in a drawer before walking back and handing me the scissors.

"Do whatever he asks you, Marie," Madame Leleu said, "otherwise this monster will become enraged and injure you." I almost laughed out loud at the formality of her speech, but I managed top keep a straight face. Marie knew I wasn't going to hurt anyone, but she managed to look suitably frightened and nod. Madame Leleu clearly wasn't frightened.

I leaned over again and snipped the bit of material between her bra cups, which I then pushed to the side, exposing two saggy mouthfuls of tit with dark red, pointy nipples. "Marie," I asked, "would you please lick Madame's nipples?" Before she could respond, Madame Leleu said, "Do it." Marie leaned over the bed and hesitantly licked one of the woman's nipples. Then she moved to the other side and flicked her tongue over the other red bud. As I watched they both hardened.

"So, Madame Leleu, that arouses you?" I wanted her to admit to being turned on-- but it might take a while. She was still angry. "It does not," she said resolutely.

"What is your name?" I asked her. "Madame Leleu, as you well know," she replied.

"No, your first name."

"I will not tell you," she said.

"Marie, do you know?" I asked the maid. She shook her head. "Then we shall proceed to find out." I was going to make the old bitch tell me her name and then beg me to fuck her. I took the hem of her skirt and pulled it roughly up around her waist. She was wearing old fashioned silk stockings held in place with a garter belt-- and no panties. Her pussy was hairy but neatly trimmed and she had drops of moisture on her bush. The lips were pink and slightly parted.

I looked at her pussy for a long moment, then into her eyes. She looked back at me without fear. I looked at her pussy again. Then back into her eyes. I took one of her petite feet in my hand and rubbed it. I ran my hand up her silky leg. I cupped one of her tiny tits and caressed the nipple gently, then harder. I looked into her eyes again and saw just the faintest hint of arousal.

"Marie, would you like to help me get Madame aroused," I asked the young woman, who was watching everything with eager eyes. Marie hesitated, looking at me first , then at Madame Leleu. I should have realized she'd be worried about her job.

"Do as he says, Marie-- we do not want to make the big man angry." She smiled at Marie as she said this, and I realized two things: one, she was giving her maid permission to play with her body, and two, she was possibly even prepared to enjoy it. She was quite astute and she knew that I wasn't going to get angry or hurt her.

"Marie, I want you to gently rub the Madame's pussy with your finger." Marie obediently got on the bed and ran her finger down the slightly open of slit of Madame Leleu. From the look on her face, I could tell that Marie was going to enjoy torturing-- maybe teasing is a better word-- her mistress.

Marie made little doodles with her finger on Madame's pussy lips, stroked the softness of her mound, twined her fingers in the curly bush that grew around her gash. As I watched, Madame's pussy lips went from pink , to red, to almost purple, and they swelled with surprising speed. In just 5 minutes or so, her cunt was a deep crimson, glisteningly wet, and wide open.

I knelt on the other side of the bed from Marie and lowered my face close to Madame's honey-pot. I deeply inhaled the scent of her aroused cunt and and looked with fascination at the drops of moisture that were beaded up around her vagina. And the I indulged a fantasy that I had had for a long time. "Marie? Lick her."

Marie looked at me first with questioning eyes, then at Madame. She was still worried about her job. "Go on Marie—lick me," whispered Madame. She was starting to thrust snatch upwards a little to try and touch my face with her pussy.

"Wait!" I said. "Let's make her ask us nicely. If you want us to lick you, you'll have to ask us politely," I told her.

"Please Marie, would you lick me?" she said.

But that didn't sound right to me. I wanted to hear lust and desperation and desire and need in her voice. I wanted her to beg for it-- to beg another woman to lick her cunt. "That wasn't convincing," I said.

After three or four tries she finally got it right. "My pussy is on fire-- I need-- I need you to touch me again, I need to feel you inside-- inside my pussy. Please! I'm begging you-- your tongue-- lick my clitoris-- put your tongue in me!"

I watched delightedly as Marie slowly lowered her tongue onto Madame's shining cunt and began to probe it gently, long slow licks from bottom to top and then a pause as she attended to Madam's clit. Madame was happy-- I could tell by the look on her face and the way she hissed "yessss". Marie was happy-- I could tell from the soft moans coming from her and the way she began to wiggle her hips. I was delirious-- one of my favorite fantasy's being played out just inches in front of my face-- one hot woman licking another towards orgasm!

I couldn't wait any longer. I gently pushed Marie's face aside with my own and lowered my mouth onto Madame's steaming love box. I plunged my tongue as deeply as I could into her pussy and tried to force it all the way down her love canal and find her g-spot. Of course I couldn't-- I'm not Mick Jagger, after all, but my face was crushed up against her throbbing cunt which rhythmically pumping up and down and coating my face with her pussy juice. Every cunt tastes different and hers tasted slightly of almonds. I stopped for a moment and watched Marie slide a finger into her own pussy.