Date: Wed, 24 Jan 2007 14:42:31 +0000 (GMT)
From: Josie Crupper <josiecrupper@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Camping in France - (Lesbian Authoritarian)

This is a story of Lebian fiction, if that offends, please do not read.
If you enjoy my story, please email me at josiecrupper@yahoo.co.uk for a
link to my website and other stories.
Thanks
JosieXX

Camping in France

Clare and I had been talking about a camping trip for months. A chance to
leave the city and its' hectic life behind and spend a week camping in the
wilds of France; that is, if there was still such a thing as a wilderness
to be found anywhere in Europe. If there was, we thought it must be in
central France, away from the family campsites and crowds of tourists that
drive on through and flock to the crowded coasts.
    We arrived on the outskirts of Cressy, Burgundy in Clare's old Citroen
after a long six-hour drive. It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and the
bell in the old church was calling its message to the village faithful as
we parked in the central square watched by three old men sipping tall,
chilled glasses of white pastis outside a little cafe. Offering a friendly
wave, we hoisted our packs and hiked off towards the woodland in search of
a place to pitch our tent.
    The village of Cressy was beautiful and before leaving, we stopped in a
little store and bought long loaves of crusty bread that smelt delicious,
hard local cheese and of course several bottles of good red wine to
celebrate the first night of our holiday.
    Once out of the village, a path led through the woods and opened into
rolling hills covered with crops of sunflowers; their yellow faces
following the progress of the hot June sun. We tramped along chatting
happily for nearly two hours and then, just as the light was beginning to
fade to the golden hue of evening, we came across the perfect camping spot.
    It was an open grassy area, close to a small river and overshadowed by
a large willow bowing its head towards the slowly setting sun -- it was
perfect, and as the last rays painted the sky a fiery red, we sat at rest
with the tent up and a small cheery fire. A bottle of wine was opened and
we began to get pleasantly drunk, giggling and talking the evening away -
it really felt like we had found our Shangri-La.
    I've known Clare for about three years. We both work in the same bank
but in different departments so only get to socialise outside of the
office. I have always thought she was pretty. She has a slim build and, at
first glance, you might think she is still in her teens when actually you
would be out by a good ten years. Firelight reflected from an elfish face
with startling blue eyes and full lips that were quick to smile. Her best
feature, which I wouldn't have dwelt upon that evening camping under the
stars, but now some six months after the camping trip I do, are her long,
beautiful legs that by the fire were curled beneath her. Most of that
evening, while we became more drunk and giggly, was spent talking about the
men in our office and how-on-earth a girl was supposed to find a good and
decent one in this crazy modern world. It was fun and quite magical night
that had us both becoming closer even if, at that point, it was still only
as friends.
    We awoke the next morning to the sounds of birds in the trees, the
gentle rippling of water in the river, and the sound of a car engine coming
to a stop close to the tent.
    `Josie, someone's outside,' whispered Clare. She was sitting up,
scrambling to get out of her sleeping bag.
    `Calm down,' I answered sleepily. `It's probably just the farmer
checking his river hasn't run away.' I giggled and then sat upright as a
voice intruded.
    `Bonjour?' The voice was female and sounded cross. `Est-ce que
quelqu'un est dedans là ?' Whoever it was shook the tent.
    `Wait! We're coming, we're coming,' called Clare. She unzipped the
doorway and I followed her wonderful smooth legs and barely covered bottom
out of the tent into the blinding light of early morning.
   A woman was standing just a few feet away and she appeared to be angry.
    `Anglais? Parlez vous Francais? Non ... tipique!' She glared at us and
I began to feel foolish. We were both in skimpy t-shirts and knickers and I
suddenly felt underdressed as this intimidating woman studied us.
    `Désolés ... errr ... nous sommes ...' I began, but she interrupted me.
    `Don't worry your pretty little head, English. I speak your language
and I don't want to hear you murder mine. What do you do here? This place
is private, no camping. It is wrong that you are here.' Her accent was
strong but she obviously had a greater command of English than I did of
French. She glanced around and shook her head in dismay at our desecration
of her land and then, when she saw the fire, she grabbed my arm and pulled
me around.
    `Hey,' I cried.
    `What is this? You think to fire this whole field? Stupid English
girls.'
    I tore my arm back. `Listen. We're sorry. We didn't mean any
harm. We'll just pack up and leave.' I turned back to the tent but then
heard Clare squeal.
    `Let me go,' Clare was struggling in the woman's grasp but she was too
small to break free. `Please!'
    `No, you must come with me. La Gendarmes must be told.'
    `Listen, you let her go or I'll hit you.' I snatched up a saucepan and
stood brandishing it, ready to clout this rude woman if she didn't let
Clare go. Things had gone too far. I couldn't see what we had done wrong
but if we had to leave then we would leave, but she had no right to bully
us.
    `So you wish to assault me now, eh? You make things worse you know.'
Calming herself, the woman pushed Clare to the ground. Clare scampered over
to me and I threw down the saucepan and began pulling our clothes from the
tent.
    `Come on, Clare. Let's get dressed. We'll find a much nicer place than
this,' I promised. I turned my back on the woman as I pulled off my t-shirt
and slipped on my bra and a blouse, and finally stepped into a skirt. As I
put on my make --up she appeared ready to explode but I ignored her -- I
wasn't going anywhere without make-up!
    `Hurry,' insisted the awful French woman. `Clear your things. I will
drive you to the village.' She watched us as we silently dressed and then
packed up our little campsite. As I threw things into my pack, I watched
her from the corner of my eye. She was about forty and was wearing riding
clothes; tight britches, high snug polished riding boots and a white
blouse. Her chestnut hair was long and flowing hair, she would have been
extremely attractive if she smiled rather than glaring at us.
    I made a show of cleaning the fire, scattering the large stones we had
used to form a fireplace and in the end, there was only a small circle of
blackened earth to show we had ever been there.
    `I am Madam Renard, you will call me Madam...come.' She turned, strode
to her car, and opened the back for our packs, obviously expecting us to
follow and do as we were told.
    `Oh, come on, Josie,' hissed Clare. `Let's just go.'
    I shrugged, and then nodded. `Okay I won't make trouble.' I followed
Clare to the car but when she wasn't looking, I glared at Madam Renard,
bobbed a fake curtsey, and said `Thank you, Madam,' in a lilting voice. I
don't think she realised I was making fun of her stern manner. She merely
nodded, got into the car and started the engine. The moment Clare and I got
into the back seats, we set off, bouncing down a dusty track between fields
of sunflowers -- I remember think what a shame it was that she had to spoil
our little holiday like this.
    We had been driving for about ten minutes when I realised we were
actually going away from where the village must be. `Where are we going?' I
asked, leaning forward so she could hear me over the squeaking and rumbling
of the car. `The village ... Cressy, is in the other direction isn't it?
    `She glanced back at me, muttered something in French and then, waving
ahead into the distance, said `The road is this way, not through the forest
... I cannot drive through trees, n'est pas ... comprenez,' she tapped her
head. `You understand, English girl?'
    `Bitch,' I muttered, and then felt better as Clare's hand found mine,
feeling a strange, small thrill at our intimate contact and the way our
bare knees were touching as the car bounced along.
    Another ten minutes of driving and we finally bumped up from the fields
onto a gravel path and drove past a beautiful lake with swans gliding
across the surface between ornamental lilies towards a huge intimidating
chateau. A gardener stood with head bowed as we passed and then we were
driving through gates and pulled up in an inner courtyard.
    `Wow,' exclaimed Clare as she got out of the car. `This place is
incredible. Where are we?'
   `Slamming the car door, Madam Renard tossed the keys to a waiting maid
and called over her shoulder, `Welcome to Chateau de la Bouche.' She made a
mocking bow. `Please, enter, you are my guests.'
    `I thought we were going back to Cressy to get our car?' I
called. Madam Renard stopped on the steps to the house and turned
around. It was pretty obvious she wasn't used to being questioned and I was
beginning to annoy her.
    `We are going to the village ...  soon. I need to fetch a few things
and then we will be away. Please, for a short while, be welcome in my
home.'
    The Chateau really was fabulous - this was old France. I even stopped
thinking about its nasty owner who had disappeared giving orders to the
maid to make us comfortable -- my French is bad but I could understand most
of what was being said. The maid was in her late forties and dressed in a
traditional maid's uniform -- black dress, cut a little short, with white
lace apron and bonnet, and black seamed stockings - she looked quite sweet
as she smiled and ushered us in.
    Old portraits and tapestries adorned the walls of a long impressive
hallway and we gazed about, taking in the rich opulence like the tourists
we were.
    `My name is Claudette. I will bring you drinks in the ...' she thought
for a moment to find the right word, `... in the summer room.' She
smiled. `Iz nice room, you come with me.'
    We followed her through a succession of rooms and corridors, finally
ending up in a beautiful sitting room decorated in pale, pastel greens. The
sun was streaming in through lace curtains that billowed gently with the
summer breeze -- it really was a nice room. It smelt old and musty from the
leather furniture and polished wood that filled the room but it was clean
and welcoming and spoke of times long past.
    Claudette disappeared and returned a few moments later holding a
tinkling tray of glasses and an icy jug and she poured two glasses that we
gratefully accepted. The lemonade was ice cold, sweet and delicious - we
drank several glasses.
    I remembered drinking the lemonade ... but then the room became hazy
and I remember sitting down on a leather couch.
    The next thing I knew, was looking at Madam Renard now wearing a
dress. She was smiling at me, sitting on a chair opposite. I tried to focus
my eyes and felt strange.
    `Well, my naughty girls. The way I see our little situation is that I
found two pretty, lesbian girls camping on my land. You were touching,
kissing and playing with each other in your little tent, away from prying
eyes, yes?'
    I tried to say no, to shake my head, but I couldn't move. Clare and I
were friends, not lovers ... and why couldn't I move?
    `Oh, yes.' She smiled and crossed her legs, smoothing her dress with a
satisfied air. `There was a little something in your drinks that will make
you easier for me to play with ... and to punish you. You will find that
you can only move or say something when I give you a direct order, or at
least that is what Claudette has assured me.' She glanced to the maid who
smiled and nodded happily. `We will see.'
    I felt a tremor of fear run through me.
    `It all sounds rather delicious really,' she went on. `Shall we see how
much control we have? You.' She pointed at me. `I think you should put your
hand on your friend's leg ... do it.'
    Without meaning to, my head glanced down beside me to look at Clare's
legs. I saw her short yellow skirt lying just above her pretty, pink knees,
and watched in horror as my hand moved across to rest on her right leg, my
fingers slipped gently between warm thighs. It felt strange to be touching
her like this and I wanted to pull my hand away, but couldn't.
    `...and move your hand up, push her skirt a little higher ... good.'
Beside me, Clare wasn't moving and I couldn't see her face. Whether I liked
it or not my attention was on her legs.
    `Open your legs a little for your friend.' This was to Clare and I
watched as her legs spread obediently to the command.
    `Pull your skirt higher ... that's right, good girl.'
    I saw Clare's hands grip the hem of her skirt and lift it high. I then
gazed in horror as my hand slid up Clare's inner thigh until my fingers
were brushing her white knickers. I felt hot and terribly uncomfortable to
be touching her like this, and I dreaded the next instruction from our
tormentor.
    `You, girl. What is your name?'
    `Clare,' came the whispered response.
    `You may address me as Madam ... and what is your friend's name?'
    `Josie, Madam.'
    `....and have you ever seen Josie's breasts, Clare?'
    There was a pause. `Yes, Madam,' mumbled Clare's voice.
    `Of course you have. Have you ever touched them?'
    `No, Madam.'
    `Well I don't think we can believe that. Josie, expose your breasts for
Clare. Let us see if she remembers touching them'
    `Yes, Madam,' I heard myself answer, and then felt myself scoot to the
front of the cushion and turn towards Clare. I couldn't stop myself. We
looked calmly at each other as my fingers began undoing the tiny buttons of
my blouse. Despite my fear, my hands weren't trembling and, all too soon, I
was pulling the blouse open and pushing it to the sides. My fingers
continued to the front-opening clasp of my bra and it quickly sprang
undone. I pushed the cotton bra-cups out of the way and pushed my naked
chest towards Clare. There was silence as all eyes gazed at my breasts, the
rapidly hardening nipples, and the blush forming on both my chest and face.
    `You have beautiful breasts, Josie. Doesn't she Clare?'
    `Yes, Madam.' Clare was staring, round eyed at my chest. My breasts are
36D cup, much larger than Clare's sweet little buds. I heard Madam Renard
walk over behind me and then she was reaching down, cupping my breasts in
her hands, taking the weight of them and offering the nipples forward. I
watched Clare's face as she was forced to watch me being molested.
    `I'm sure you would like to suck one of those big nipples into your
mouth, wouldn't you Clare?'
    `...yes, Madam,' whispered Clare. She slowly moved towards my left
nipple until she was close enough that I could feel warm breath caress the
puckered skin.
    `Lick her nipple, Clare.'
    I watched as my friend licked my nipple ... it tickled.
    `Suck it into your mouth, Clare.' With her eyes locked on mine, Clare
opened her mouth and slowly took my nipple into her mouth. It was warm and
wet and I could feel her softly sucking. I wanted to groan. As Clare sucked
one nipple, Madam Renard rolled and pulled at the other and I could feel my
pussy getting wet - I felt so ashamed.
    `Both of you stand up, and then turn to face each other.'
    I felt myself stand and then turn towards Clare. She was still staring
at my chest and I felt another blush colour my face as my breasts bounced
slightly with the movement.
    There was a chatter of conversation from the two French women but I
didn't catch any of it as I gazed into Clare's eyes and wondered fearfully
what would happen to us.
    `Turn back to face me.'
    `Yes, Madam,' we chorused, and without doing anything, my body turned
and I was standing, hands at my sides, looking down at Madam Renard now
once again seated in front of us. The only part of me that I had any
control over were my eyes and I looked on as Madam Renard smiled up at us
in delight. `This is wonderful.' She clapped her hands in delight. `Two
delicious English girls to do whatever I wish with.' She stood up and
walked over to me. `Kiss me passionately, English slut.' I watched as her
face came slowly towards me, felt my mouth open to receive her probing
tongue, and then her lips, soft and sticky with red lipstick, were on mine
- I felt myself respond hungrily. Her hands began squeezing my breasts,
roughly mauling them before tugging painfully on each nipple. Finally, the
kiss was broken and she stepped back and turned her attention to Clare. I
couldn't see them but could hear the kiss and could see Claudette, the maid
watching happily as her Mistress abused my friend.
    Madam Renard stepped back into view wiping the corner of her mouth with
a satisfied air. She sat down in an armchair and crossed her legs.
    `I think we must find you each a uniform like Claudette's, no? But for
now, let us see what we have with you two. Lift your skirts for me, hold
them up high.' My body responded, doing as it was told.
    `... and legs apart a little more ... good.' I felt my hands go down to
the hem of my skirt, grasp it, and lift until my nipples were brushing the
backs of my hands. It felt degrading and humiliating. I looked on, wishing
I could cry as the two older women stared at us. I could feel my nipples
hardening and goose-bumps rise all over my body.
    Claudette said something to Madam Renard and received a nod of approval
in response. With a smile, she ran happily forward, firstly to Clare, then
a moment later to me. Cold hands fumbled for the edge of my knickers and
worked them down to around my knees. As she rose in front of me, her hand
cupped my pussy. I had shaved all my pussy hair before leaving for the
holiday, even the tiny strip that I usually left. The old woman's hand
briefly made intimate contact and inside I screamed, turned and
ran. Unfortunately, however, my body wouldn't allow it and I remained where
I was, staring into her smiling face; my knickers around my knees, holding
up my skirt as her finger started to-
    `Claudette, ne soyez pas villain! Don't be bad, come here this
instant.'
    `Oui, Madam.' Claudette returned sheepishly to her employer's side.
    `Sit back on the couch girls and display your vagin for me ... how do
you say? your vagina's please.'
    I could feel Clare beside me as we sat back on the couch and brought
our knees up, our knickers sliding down to our ankles as we opened our legs
and displayed our naked, exposed vaginas together. Madam Renard stood up
and came closer to inspect us.
    `So pretty, such pretty flowers you have, girls. Touch each other, open
each other for me.'
    We moved closer together, our legs touching and crossing as we sought
each other's naked vaginas. My hand moved over soft warm skin searching for
Clare's pussy as her hand move across my leg, cool as it sought the base of
my thigh. Her fingers were soon dancing softly across my pussy lips as she
parted the folds of my vagina while I parted hers, feeling the moist warmth
of her open flesh. A moan of desire filled me and was glad it never made it
to my still lips. There we remained as Madam Renard and Claudette studied
us. Reaching down, Madam Renard slowly dipped the middle finger of each
hand into each of us. I felt it sink into me, my vagina welcome it,
tightening, seeking to hold her fast. I was amazed to realise my sex was so
very wet, how easily her finger had slid into me. She withdrew her fingers
and sucked the glistening honey from each in turn.
    `Mmm, delicious. To the window please, girls,' said Madam Renard,
cheerfully.  We both sat up and with knickers still caught around our
ankles, made our way to the window where sunlight still shone through thin
cotton curtains.
    `Place your hands on the sill and push your bottoms out.' There was a
smattering of French as our bodies complied with the request and I felt my
skirt flipped up over my back as I pushed out my bottom. My body dutifully
bent forward, and with straight legs and bare bottom I gazed out of the
window at the courtyard with Madam Renard's little car in the same spot
where we had parked just a short time ago. She came up between us and her
hand began caressing the cheeks of my bottom, squeezing and patting,
holding my cheeks apart to expose my anus and vagina. I knew she must have
been doing the same to Clare.
    `You are such naughty girls, you English.' She slapped my bottom
hard. `Such very naughty girls.'
    `Slap!' Her hand came down again even harder. `But here in France you
must not just camp where you wish, Slap!' My bottom tingled from the impact
but my body wasn't moving.
    `You must be punished.' Slap, slap, slap! It was hard, and it hurt, and
I felt a tear come to my eye.
    `You ... come here!' She must have been talking to Clare, as my body
remained prone to her hand.
    Slap Slap Slap!
    `Lick her here.' I felt movement between my legs and then someone,
Clare, began licking my bottom. At first, her wet tongue licked over each
cheek, cooling the fire from the spanking, but then she was directed
between the soft cheeks and her tongue was lapping at my anus. I blushed as
I realised what my friend was being made to do and that I was actually
enjoying the experience. I wanted to die but the tongue continued, pushing
its way in past my tight sphincter. Her hands spread the cheeks of my
bottom further, allowing more access to me, but then she was pulled away.
    `You ... Josie, do the same to Clare.' I rose, and turned in time to
see Clare stand up and bend over with her hands on the windowsill. Almost
in a daze, I went down on my knees behind her, spread the cheeks of her
pert little bottom and gazed at her puckered brown hole as my face came
closer. It was musky. A feeling of revulsion was ignored by my captive
body, my tongue came out, and I began lapping hungrily at her asshole.
    `Her vagin as well, mon cherie. Yes, like that.' I licked from Clare's
ass, down past her gaping wet vagina to her clitoris and the carefully
trimmed, soft hair of her pussy before moving up again. The muskiness of
her ass soon mixing with the sweeter taste of her vagina and I realised I
was loving doing this to Clare, I couldn't get enough of her. My hands
spread her bottom further but then a flush of despair filled me as I was
pulled up painfully by the hair before I could do more.
    `Back beside your friend, Josie.'
    Slap, Slap Slap! For a few moments, our bottoms were spanked hard, the
heat inflaming the cheeks of my bottom but also lighting a fire deep in my
sex. I knew my vagina was now very wet and I was incredibly aroused and
actually I wanted more -- it was so confusing, and then Madam Renard stopped
and was standing between us again, staring out of the window. It was as if
all three of us were intent upon something in the chateau grounds, but in
fact, Madam Renard was manoeuvring her thumb deep into my anus and three
fingers into my sopping wet vagina. She began fucking both my holes and I
knew she was doing the same to Clare. The fucking continued for some time
before I realised Madam Renard was breathing heavily. In the reflection of
the window, I caught sight of Claudette behind Madam Renard. She had raised
her mistress dress and was licking and fucking her with a large glass dildo
-- a few moments later Madam Renard had a loud, powerful orgasm, removed her
hands from Clare and I without saying a word, and then left the room.
    Silence enveloped us and it seemed like an eternity passed. Eventually,
Clare spoke.
    `Josie? Josie I can move again.'
    I tested my own abilities but still couldn't move or even speak.
    Clare slowly stood up next to me. `Josie? Can you still not move? Oh
you poor thing.' I felt her hand smooth down my skirt, covering my bottom
and I felt incredibly grateful to her. `That was...amazing.' I felt
confused. How could she think that ordeal was amazing? My confusion turned
to shock as her hand cupped my left breast and squeezed. She rolled my
nipple between her fingers and it hardened as my embarrassment took over
again.
    I was starting to get control now as the drug lost its grip on me. I
slowly turned my head towards Clare and her face filled my view as she
kissed me softly on the lips, her tongue forcing me to open my mouth.
    She whispered. `Stay as you are...please...just for a moment.'
    I did as she asked and felt her cup my bottom, her finger slipped into
my wet vagina and I finally heard a moan escape my lips as a second finger
joined the first and began exploring the wet folds of my sex. `We should
get out of here ... leave.' Despite my words I remained bent over, pushing
my bottom out for her attention.
    `But I want to stay.'
    `What?' I stood up and slowly turned around. `You want to stay here?'
    `We can run any time. I want to be made to play more with you, Josie.'
    `We can play on our own, Clare ... we don't need her to make us
... let's just get out of here.'
    `Please, Josie...'
    The door opened and Madam Renard walked back in. She stopped when she
saw we had regained control of our bodies, and for a few moments, nothing
was said. Claudette came back in carrying two uniforms on hangers.
    The maid smiled at us. `Show madam that you are good obedient
maids. Lift your skirts for her ... do it now.' She clapped her
hands. Clare and I turned towards each other and I watched as a small smile
played across Clare's features.
    `Please,' she whispered. We turned back to Madam Renard and slowly
lifted our skirts in submission.

We stayed the summer with Madam Renard. I liked the Maid's uniforms we were
given, and we were forced to do even more awful things for Madam Renard
... should I tell you more?

If you enjoy my story, please email me at josiecrupper@yahoo.co.uk for a
link to my website and other stories.

Thanks
JosieXX