Chapter Fourteen
Whenever Mrs. Staunton and Maurice were gone from the chateau, the hackneyed theme of "while the cat's away, the mice will play" applied in full, at least where Madam Andre and George were concerned.
Since the arrival some month's back of the Cockney girl, Nellie, another mouse was added to the game. Nellie had been only too willing to participate once she'd learned how much she could trust the two other household servants.
But at first, the young English girl was leery of both of them, and especially George. He was a huge, hairy man and huge hairy men always frightened her.
When Mrs. Staunton had first brought the young freckle-faced girl to the chateau and introduced her to Madam Andre, the housekeeper had had her misgivings.
"George," she said much later, "I don't know how you're going to take to this kid."
"What's that mean?"
"It means," she said, slowly opening her dress so he could observe her great breasts from across the table, "it means that we're going to have to move very fast if she's going to become a part of our secret games, the way I know you wish the tweenie maid to be."
"Right," George replied. He was chewing on a huge pork-chop bone, after having already finished a lunch that might have fed three normal men.
"So how do you suggest we go about this, eh?" she inquired.
"Well," he replied, observing that Madam Andre was now playing with her huge breasts, fondling them mindlessly, "well, if maybe you get her into some kind of embarrassing position. that might do it."
Madam Andre interrupted, "You mean blackmail?"
"Of a sort."
French peasants, and for that matter, French aristocracy, are as addicted to blackmail as American teenagers are addicted to Rock amp; Roll.
"We might work it out together."
"How?" George threw his gnawed pork bone to one of the three waiting wolfhounds that lived on the grounds.
Madam got up from her chair and came around his end of the table. She kneeled in front of him. Opening his pants, she felt around inside until her fingers gripped his enormous cock. It was always semi-rigid. She felt its thickness, and the heat it threw off, but she especially loved the weight of the monster as she raised it up and down in her hand.
Cradling his cock thusly, she looked up at him. He was reaching for yet another pork-chop bone. When she growled at him, he obediently threw it to the dogs.
Madam Andre loved to lick and kiss George's huge prick while he sat at the table. There was something romantic, and at the same time, vulgar about it.
She loved to play with it while she had her other hand up under her long, ankle-length dress, twiddling her clitoris or finger-fucking her cunt. She would lick up and down the shaft, spitting on it, then masturbating it to full erection. He would just sit there looking down at her, perhaps smoking a cigarette, or leisurely drinking a glass of red wine.
When Madam Andre would finally open her big mouth and let his cock slide down her throat in one full thrust, he'd get on his knees and fuck her in the mouth as if he were fucking her from the rear. That sent the French woman out of her mind with lust: drooling, and gasping as his monstrous cock spewed his fluids down her throat in great gobs. Sometimes she was sure she would gag to death if he didn't pull the thing out of her throat, but she loved every minute of it.
She also loved another variation on the theme. Sometimes she would expose her huge breasts while she knelt in front of him, sucking his naked cock. As she kissed and sucked, she would play with her breasts so that George could watch and be amused.
With her hands busy on both breasts, her fingers squeezing, pinching and stroking her nipples, and his prick at her command, she was be lost in pleasure.
George, knowing her well, would shock her out of her ecstatic reverie by using some trick or another. One of his favorites was to flex the muscles of his prick, making it jump inside her throat, or suddenly pulling his cock out, leaning forward, and whipping her face with the huge member. This always made Madam Andre red with embarrassment.
Now, as they discussed the frontal attack they would need to wage on the new upstairs maid, Madam Andre was down on her knees before him. Her huge breasts were swollen from the constant fondling, her nipples fully erect. George spread his knees.
She smiled up at him, knowing what he wanted. Gripping his cock with her teeth, her mouth wide open, she began to bite and chew on the rosy head until George moaned in ecstasy.
Knowing how much her man liked this, Madam Andre bit and chewed away, squeezing her giant breasts at the same time.
Finally, Madam held both breasts high up while the Frenchman put his cock between them. Half of his enormous red, throbbing cock was hidden in the crevice of her breasts.
George began pumping up against her breastbone. Madam Andre pumped back, massaging the shaft of his huge cock with the insides of her curvy breasts. When the friction became almost unbearable, the French woman lowered her chin, dropping great gobs of spit down between her breasts, and on his cock. The saliva lessened the friction, and increased the lubrication for the great prick.
Madam Andre knew by simply looking up at George's screwed up face that his prick would be exploding soon. She looked forward to it. She loved the feel of his prick throbbing and spurting between her warm, wet breasts. She felt him coming. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed; his mouth emitted a low moan. His cock pulsed in the full flesh of her breasts. She flipped over completely, throwing her head far back so that her upturned face was under his prick. She cupped her heavy breasts, holding them up high with the pointed nipples as targets for George's cock to shoot at.
He squeezed his cock tightly in his fist, rubbing it up and down. He came, but he missed her nipples. His gobs of thick sperm plopped onto her upturned face instead, hitting her eyes, her nose, her tongue, which stuck out from her open mouth.
"So, what we can do," Madam Andre said, wiping his come from her face and standing up, "is organize the blackmail situation so that she is compromised by both of us."
"I don't understand. You mean at the same time?"
"No, stupid, I do not."
"Then what do you mean, Madam Andre?" George always called her Madam Andre in the kitchen. He idly jerked off his slackening cock as they conversed.
"Well, I read this in one of those cheap novels by Hugo. You catch her doing something with me and threaten that you'll tell Madame Staunton."
"I think I understand," he grinned, showing strong, white, peasant teeth.
"Then, George, I catch her in some compromising position with you, and I threaten to inform on her. How's that sound?"
So that was the plan, but it backfired, despite the fact that it was cleverly organized and executed.
While Nellie was eating in her room one night, George went into her private bathroom, having knocked politely and begged emergency. Quickly he took off his clothing and waited for the secret signal he expected from Madam Andre. She meant to catch the naked George alone with Nellie.
As it happened though, when Madam Andre did arrive, George had inadvertently locked himself in the bathroom. Nellie didn't understand what his banging on the door meant, because the walls of the chateau were so thick she couldn't make out what he was yelling. So she just went on obliviously eating, drinking a glass of wine, and thinking over how fortunate she was and how much she loved her mistress.
At this point, Madam Andre barged into Nellie's apartment, hoping to catch George and the new maid in the act.
"Where is George?" she asked.