Mindy, Fantasy Session Wrestler in “French Maid”

By Gark

[French maid versus her mistress - a classic scenario]

I was lounging around the house one Monday morning when my private line rang up. I answered on the third ring, not wanting to appear too eager, lest it be a new client.

“Hello, Mindy speaking,” I began as always, “how can I help you?”

“Good morning Ms. Mindy. My name is James. I am in the service of Mrs. Van Der Meir. The Mrs. has requested that I arrange a luncheon date with you at your earliest convenience.”

I recognized the name immediately, and felt a touch of empathy for the woman. “Certainly, but can you tell me what this is regarding?”

“I’m afraid the Mrs. wasn’t very specific, saying only that you would know,” replied James in an even tone.

“In that case, yes I do,” I told him.

“How about today at the Northridge Country Club, say 12:00 noon?” asked James.

Northridge Country Club was the high society place to be, southwest of Chicago, maybe in Naperville. Even if nothing came of the luncheon, I’d have a nice meal and look-see around. “That will be fine. I’ll plan on it,” I told him, preparing to ring off.

“Thank you very much Ms. Mindy, and a good day to you,” replied James politely.

The Van Der Meir’s were incredibly wealthy and I had heard of the current Mrs. V mostly in the society pages - and it had been very scandalous indeed. The original Mrs. V had contracted some unheard of disease from an insect bite while on safari with her husband, 25 years her senior, and had died after a prolonged battle with the disease. The current Mrs. V, who was about 5 years younger than the original Mrs. V #1, had been the maid in the Van Der Meir household at the time. Mr. V had wasted little time, marrying her less than a year after Mrs. V #1 had passed on. The society types had absolutely ripped the current Mrs. V apart as a result. It could not have been easy for her.

I had enough time to shower and set my hair nicely. I put on a sleeveless silk blouse and an over-the-knees dressy skirt. I always wanted to look my best, especially with women clients. They needed to be able to inspect my figure, especially the arms and legs, and not be put off by it. From experience, I knew that the vast majority of women interested in wrestling with another woman wanted that woman to look very feminine, and not muscular in any way. I had been careful over the years to stay in shape without overdoing it. I was a lot stronger than I looked, and had terrific stamina.

I arrived at the country club exactly on time and was soon led to a table in the dining area where Mrs. V awaited. As I approached, Mrs. V stood to greet me. She was a stunningly attractive woman, maybe 5’8” and 140 pounds. Her long blond hair flowed naturally onto her shoulders. “Hello Mrs. Van Der Meir. It is very nice to meet you,” I said very politely.

“It is nice to meet you, too, Mindy. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for some time, and finally took the initiative… and now I’m very glad I did. But I’d feel much more comfortable if you would call me Dorothy.”

We stood there staring at each other without further discussion, sizing the other up. I could feel the tension in the air, like two cats preparing to clash. She was slightly smaller in height than I, which was common enough, but her figure was more accentuated. She was clearly in excellent physical condition. This was a client I definitely would like to ensnare.

Finally, she motioned for us to sit down. The waiter immediately filled my wine glass from the bottle Mrs. V had started. “Certainly, Dorothy. And thank you for inviting me here. I’ve not been here before and it’s really very nice.”

“I’m not that accustomed to the country club atmosphere myself. I’ve only recently become somewhat welcome in this place. I guess they couldn’t ignore me forever,” she replied.

“I see. It’s too bad when people pre-judge sometimes… In my profession, it’s not uncommon for that to happen, too.”

We continued to make small talk and get to know each other as we ordered and nibbled on our food. I was taking a liking to Dorothy, and it was clear that the sentiment was mutual. After finishing our meal, she began to elucidate her need. Dorothy explained that she often wonders how different her life would have been had she not married into wealth, if she had continued a more menial existence. “Did you know that I was once Mr. Van Der Meir’s maid?” she explained.

I nodded in reply, not wanting to interrupt.

She continued, “He always made me wear this frightfully small, frilly, low-cut French Maid outfit with the most outrageous garters and hose. Mrs. V just hated the thing, but Mr. V prevailed and that became my official outfit, much to Mrs. V’s chagrin. I’ve always been fairly physically aggressive and I didn’t like the outfit either. And James was beside himself, not knowing whether to be embarrassed, aghast or enamored. When I rebelled, I almost lost my job. But finally, we all adjusted to my wearing that French Maid outfit.”

She paused for a moment, sipping her wine, and then continued. “Anyway, after Mrs. V passed away from that horrid disease, Mr. V started looking at me in a new way - as a trophy wife, I guess. And we married, although there is a significant prenuptial agreement to protect his assets. Anyway, he doesn’t touch me, just wants to look, if you know what I mean. He’s probably too old to ‘take me’, anyway. And, he’s made it very clear that I’m to keep a good distance from other men, if you know what I mean.”

I felt sorry for Dorothy in a way. Despite all of the wealth, this was a very lonely, love-starved woman. I could see she needed to tell me the rest, so I maintained my silence.

Dorothy gathered her wits, and then continued once again. “At any rate, I still have this vision in my mind of being the maid, you know, in the French Maid outfit, and having a mistress who treats me badly, as Mrs. V had done. You know, she slapped me across the face on more than one occasion, for very little reason whatsoever, which brings me to why we are meeting here today. But first, I’m dying to know your vital statistics, per se. Perhaps we could exchange our information?”

This was a common request from male and female clients alike. And, I had noticed that most women liked to volunteer their information in exchange for mine. So, I told her matter-of-factly, “I’m 5’9½”, weigh 145 pounds and am 27 years old. My bust is a 36C, and I’m 24” and 35” at the waist and hips.”

“Oh, that’s quite good,” she replied with a hint of excitement. “I’m fairly similar - 5’8” and 142 pounds. My breasts are 38D, with a 25” waist and 37” hips, all natural - no silicone or whatever.”

“Same here,” I concurred. It was clear that Dorothy had decided to hire me. All that was left was the details… and that was my favorite part. It was clear this would be a fantasy encounter of some sort.

Dorothy continued, “Well in the scenario I have in mind, I am once again the French Maid. One day, the madam once again becomes irritated with me, slapping me across the face… Well here,” she said, handing me a few sheets of paper, “I’ve prepared a script for a little play we can act out… if you’re amenable.”

I took a few minutes to look it over. It was really quite good. Smiling brightly, I replied, “This looks great!! Very imaginative!!”

I had wanted to put her at ease, and I could see she was quite relieved. It was always hard on a client to level with me with their request. I reached across the table and took her hands in mine, explaining, “Don’t worry. I’ve done this sort of thing before. You’ve written a wonderful script, and we will have a great time!”

“Yes, I suppose we will. You know, at first, I thought of this as a fantasy grudge match against my former mistress, but now its evolved into more than that. I think it will be fun, too.”

“With a scenario like this, you can’t miss!” I told her reassuringly.

“OK,” she continued. “Once the initial script is played out, we’ll battle unscripted for 20 or 30 minutes. You know, I was somewhat of a tomboy growing up, and I’m not totally unskilled at wrestling and catfighting. I’d like to test myself against you during that time. Then, at the finale, I’d like to resume with the script once again to the conclusion.

“Certainly,” I quickly agreed.

“Perhaps you could come to my residence tomorrow evening and we could play it out, so to speak. My husband is gone for several weeks on safari, and the house is empty except for James and myself. And I’ll give him the evening off once you’ve arrived.”

“I don’t normally agree to an initial encounter at the client’s house, but in this case, I think it will be OK. But, you understand, my fee will be substantially higher.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Dorothy easily. “Obviously I can afford it.”

“Just to be absolutely clear,” I told her making sure I hadn’t mistaken her request, “you are requesting a topless catfight, and not an erotic match or sex-fight. Is that right?”

A curious, somewhat longing look crossed her face before she replied. “That is correct… But I’m curious, you mean we could have an erotic match… a sex-fight of some sort…”

“Well, not on the first encounter, and certainly not in a location I’m unfamiliar with. But perhaps another time,” I explained, knowing full well there would be at least a second encounter with this lonely, but striking woman.

“Yes… maybe another time,” she said, with that longing look on her face once again.

With that, I went over my rules of conduct for safe and sane catfighting. Dorothy understood completely, even relieved to have it spelled out in total. I watched her face as she read my rules, and I could see that this would be a quality encounter.

====================

On Tuesday night, I had an early, light supper, and then exercised & limbered up for a short while. I put my hair up into a fancy bun, taking on the look of the mistress of the house. I had memorized my lines, and could recite them with conviction. The action sequences were a different matter and could not be rehearsed - only improvised on the fly. But I had a certain flare for it, and plenty of practice. At times like this, I thought of myself as a lead actress in a play, albeit one with a very physically demanding role to play.

When James arrived in the Rolls, I was wearing a simple blouse and slacks. Dorothy had explained that after the match, I could either spend the night or call a cab, as James would have left well before then. My costume would be waiting for me in the mistress’s quarters. As we drove along, I started to get psyched. This could really be a lot of fun, especially if Dorothy had some wrestling talent. I’d just have to wait and see.

Upon arrival, James showed me through the front door. He led me up a long flight of stairs to the entrance of what I assumed must be the mistress’s quarters, saying, “Mrs. Van Der Meir requests that you await her here. She will be along shortly. I’ll be leaving in a few moments after conferring with the mistress. Goodnight, and have a nice evening Ms. Mindy.” I was certain that James had no idea about what is about to transpire, and if Mr. V asked, James could honestly say that the mistress had not entertained any men while he was away on safari.

I went inside and closed the door. A fabulous gown and undergarments lie on the bed, perhaps in a style from the late 1800’s. I quickly set to putting them on. The gown fit snuggly, showcasing my figure dramatically. Dorothy must have had the gown altered to match the measurements I had given her yesterday. I continued with the tan-colored sheer panties, garter belt & silk stockings, and then checked myself in the mirror. My dark pubic thatch showed through the thin fabric of the panties, which I’m sure was part of the plan.

Taking in the total picture, if I had to say so myself, I looked absolutely stunning!! I was definitely ready for this match-up!!

I took a moment to look around, figuring I had a few minutes to spare. The room was very large, but sparse from a furniture point of view. The bed was king sized with beautifully rich, hand carved, heavy wooden posts at each of the four corners. Even so, it was a very feminine looking bed, complete with a frilly canopy and skirt. The bedding had been stripped back exposing silk bed sheets. I hadn’t expected this little bonus, and was looking forward incredibly to my first match on the slippery, soft, silken sheets. The only other furniture was a table & mirror for applying makeup and such. It was the starting point in our little play. I sat down to await my French maid.

It wasn’t long before I heard the front door click shut and the door latch being set. I knew Dorothy would enter the room at any moment. My heart fluttered a moment in anticipation, something that always happened when I was excited. There was a brief knock at the door, and Dorothy entered the room. I was seated in front of the mirror, adjusting my hair, and per script, didn’t even turn to greet her, saying harshly, “Get over here and help me with this hair!”

“Yes madam,” replied Dorothy politely as she came over and began fiddling with my hair.

I had watched her in the mirror as she approached. She lived up to her measurements in every way. Dorothy wore a black, frilly bustier, her breasts nearly spilling out from the tightness of their confinement. The garment was tight at the waist, showcasing her hourglass figure. She wore black panties with fine white lace at the legs and waist. Garters connected the bottom of the bustier to her dark colored silk stockings. Her long blond hair was tied off at both sides in double ponytails. Dorothy was shockingly hot to behold, and I had to warn myself that this was not slated as an erotic encounter - but perhaps at a later date …

I was amazed that this was the outfit that Dorothy had had to wear, and I could imagine Dorothy’s initial distress. But I was also beginning to appreciate Mr. V’s taste in erotic clothing. And, I could easily see why there had been a high level of antagonism between Dorothy and the first Mrs. V. And, judging from the look of scorn on her face, Dorothy was either a very good actress, or she had totally assumed her part & was reliving those earlier days.

According to script, it was the maid’s duty to help the mistress change clothes for another engagement later that evening, so I laid it on thick as Dorothy helped me off with my gown. “Hurry up you clumsy cow, I’ve only a few minutes to spare.”

“Yes, milady,” she replied politely, pulling the gown the rest of the way off. “I’m going as fast I can.”

I was now topless, impatiently awaiting the new gown. All I had on were panties, garter belt and silk stockings. Dorothy paused for a split second, taking in the view of my unfettered breasts. “Well it isn’t nearly fast enough! And stop gawking!” I adlibbed. “I know you wish your breasts were as shapely as mine, but that isn’t to be. Now hurry up!” I replied harshly.

“Yes milady, I’ll double my efforts,” she replied as politely as before. But I could hear the strain in her voice, almost breaking as she attempted to keep her temper in check - a good actress indeed!

“Hurry, where is my chiffon gown? I’m getting cold, and my breasts are getting goose bumps. I planned to wear that gown this evening, but it is nowhere to be found,” I asked acerbically.

“Why madam, don’t you remember? You spilled coffee on it last week, and it is still at the cleaners.”

“What do you mean?!!” I screamed at her, losing my temper, per script.

“Please madam, calm yourself and I’ll find you another gown for this evening,” Dorothy told me as evenly as she could.

“You don’t know how fortunate you are living here, being in my employ,” I returned. “I’d have you fired in an instant if it weren’t for my husband.”

“Yes ma’am. You have no idea how fortunate I feel,” she replied sarcastically.

Stammering, I screeched, “Why you’re little more than a wench in servant’s clothing. You were nothing when we found you.”

“Yes, and you continue to remind me of that every day!” Dorothy screamed in return.

I slapped her across the face, hard. That kind of thing is normally excluded by my rules of conduct, but the script called for it & I could see the dramatic reasons for it. Still, I held back a little, not wanting to injure a client. Dorothy recoiled momentarily, and then I continued screaming at her, “You’re nothing but a cheap whore, trying to steal my husband’s affections, and with them, his fortune!”

“Don’t think that I don’t know why he married you! I know your story! You’re a dirty slut, yourself!” Dorothy screamed as she lurched forward, grabbing my hair and pulling hard.

This was to be a rules catfight. Hair pulling, breast mauling, light slapping and spanking were allowed.

I stood and grabbed Dorothy’s hair in return. We stumbled around the room in a standing position, hurling the most profane language at each other one could imagine. As we neared the bed, we released each other briefly to solidify our (scripted) hatred for the other.

“You dirty, scum sucking…” Dorothy started.

And that was my cue! I reached over and grabbed her bustier with both hands and yanked it down to her waist. Dorothy looked genuinely shocked (very convincing!), as her two very plentiful breasts were totally exposed. Her breasts were an unspoiled alabaster white in color with pearlescent pink nipples. They were amazingly perky considering their mammoth size. Her nipples were completely hard & erect, and I was certain that Dorothy was very excited in a sexual sort of way. And, I can’t say that I didn’t stare at those hummers of hers for an extra moment or two.

The battle was now to be largely unscripted. Dorothy desired to experience the real thing as much as possible, wanting to fight all around the room, but predominantly on the bed. We were to go like this for 20 or 30 minutes, depending on our energy levels, before the scripted finale. Judging by her fine physique, I figured the catfight could easily last 30 minutes or more!

We each took a step back to consider the other. Then we lurched at each other hard, hurling ourselves onto the bed. I purposefully responded slowly, wanting to see what she would do. Maybe I shouldn’t have, as Dorothy landed on top of me with a thud, those huge 38D’s of hers slapping hard against my own 36C’s. I struggled with her and we rolled around back and forth furiously on the slippery, silk bed sheets. After an extended struggle, I was able to get my legs around her waist and scissor her hard. Dorothy struggled ferociously, and nearly freed herself, so I increased the pressure to the max. She grabbed at my breasts with her free hand and tried to encourage me to let go. Soon we were mauling each other’s breasts, squeezing very, very hard. I was accustomed to this kind of thing, but Dorothy was not. Plus, her breasts were a much larger target than mine. I was reminded of one of my unwritten rules -- Don’t start a breast-fight against a woman whose breasts were smaller than your own! But Dorothy wouldn’t know that. And besides, how many women were there with larger (real) breasts than hers? The only person I could think of was my sister Cindy who was still enrolled at MSU, and not in the ‘business’ anyway.

I could see she was in trouble, so I let up on her some and she was able escape my legs. But instead of backing away, Dorothy attacked and we were again breast-to-breast in some sort of duel. Dorothy was grinning from cheek to cheek as she ground those two huge orbs against mine, which I found to be kind of intimidating. Now I was in trouble as she worked her breasts towards my face for a smother! She grabbed around my head and forced those two huge orbs against my face. I tried not to panic as I fought for air, occasionally catching a short breath before she shored her bare flesh up against me again. It was especially difficult to catch a breath, as her breasts were so firm that they stayed pretty much where she put them. I managed to roll over on top of her, but Dorothy maintained her grip, but not quite as firmly. At least now I had some leverage and was able to pry her arms from around me. Once freed, I sat there on top of her, straddling her at the waist, holding her down with the weight of my body. I quickly grabbed her breasts and squeezed. I have to admit I enjoyed attacking such large, firm and shapely breasts. It wasn’t often I had such an opportunity, so I took it now!

Dorothy shrieked (maybe in joy?) and grabbed back. Soon, we were again squeezing and mauling the daylights out of the other’s breasts, one of my favorite holds. Again, I proved to have more stamina, and as she gave in, I released her. But it was only for a moment, as I slammed my breasts down hard against her huge orbs. It was payback time, and I soon slid myself upwards on her body, ultimately slamming my breasts against her face. I smothered her as relentlessly as she had done me. I knew she was enjoying the breast battles, as her scent was heavy in the air, so I kept at it for some time.

Finally Dorothy copied my tactics and she was on top of me. With her two huge breasts pressing against me from above, I could no longer maintain the smother, so I released her and shoved her off me to the side. Soon we were facing each other on our knees on the bed.

Dorothy, in character as the French Maid, threatened, “No one else is in the entire mansion. There is no one to help you, now. It’s just you and me, madam bitch!”

“Fine with me!” I spat back. “I don’t need any help to take care of a whore like you!”

We lurched around the bed, rolling and groping each other as we went. I fell off the bed at one point, and as I got up on the floor, I realized Dorothy’s legs were very close to one of the heavy wooden bedposts. I grabbed around each side of the bedpost, and pulled Dorothy by her ankles until her crotch connected with the bedpost. I knew this wasn’t a ‘sporting move’, but I made sure she didn’t hit that hard.

I yanked on her legs, moving around back and forth along the floor area, grind her crotch against the post as I went. Dorothy finally managed to sit up and grabbed the post with her arms, then kicked her legs free of me. Then she stood off to one side of the corner post opposite me and motioned me forward. “C’mon, face me across the post… if you dare,” she spat.

We were now near the corner of the bed, both standing on the floor. We locked hands together on each side of the bedpost in a test of strength. This was getting very interesting, never having been in this position ever before. We would test each other, trying to force the other against the bedpost in an unpleasant a way as possible. As we struggled, we came together breast-to-breast with the bedpost lodged between our entangled breasts. We tried to grind the other’s breasts against the hard wooden, post, both succeeding to some extent. Now my breasts were getting sore, but she wouldn’t release me, relentlessly grinding my breasts against the bedpost. She was putting up an incredible fight!

Finally, I managed to trip her and she fell to the floor. I jumped on her in an instant and our legs were soon entwined in each other as we rolled around. We both wore silk stockings, and I’d never experienced entwined legs in this way before. Her legs were so silky smooth and slippery, but we managed to entrap each other as we rolled around on the floor. Our breasts flopped together, then pressed together as we tumbled. I grabbed at Dorothy’s hair and she soon had mine. We continued to roll around, tears in our eyes from the exquisite pain we were inflicting upon each other. The full body contact was incredible - face-to-face, breast-to-breast, crotch-to-crotch and legs entwined with legs! And, I was very wet and aroused!! She was a very capable, beautiful and erotic fighter!

Sensing the end was near, I decided to go back to the script. I began acting desperate to escape, thrashing around madly, (reluctantly) freeing myself from her clutches. She knew it, too, allowing me to escape briefly. I ran for the door, but not too quickly. Dorothy chased me down and hurled me onto the bed. I landed flat on my back and Dorothy was soon sitting on my waist pawing my breasts once again. I made a paltry effort to respond, and she slapped my hands away. Soon, Dorothy was in complete control, squeezing me out, so to speak. I gasped and groaned as she tortured my breasts to submission. Then she departed from the script a little.

“Admit it, mistress,” she whispered defiantly. “You’re beaten! But I’ll give you one more chance. One last breast duel to see who is the better.”

With that, Dorothy lay down against me as our hands came upon the other’s breasts. Our legs entwined quite naturally on their own, their soft silkiness as erotic as hell. Our bodies were completely wrapped around each other as we began to squeeze the other’s breasts. The look on Dorothy’s face was one of complete rapture as we rolled onto our sides to complete the contest, still completely entwined. Our faces were inches apart, and tears rolled freely from our eyes as our battle of wills escalated.

I held out for a few minutes (making sure she got her money’s worth, I told myself), then finally croaked out my submission, “I give up… oh please let me go!!”

“Yes! I am the better woman!!” Dorothy squealed in delight. Then she shuddered right down to her pelvic bone, moaning loudly.

That was all it took, as the same rapture overtook me. We shuddered and groaned in unison, rapturously melded together. I knew that it wasn’t supposed to be an erotic (sex) match, but things often happened that way on their own accord. When wrapped around a beautiful, nearly naked, orgasming client, I usually came as well - some sort of symbiosis, I guess.

After a few moments, we finally had the presence of mind to finish out the script Dorothy saying, “I expect you to treat me with kindness and respect from now on, provided you don’t fire me, that is.”

“I am sorely tempted to do just that and fire you,” I replied softly, cuddling against her warm body. “But you awakened a fire within me I didn’t know existed. You are welcome to stay on, and I will treat you as you request, but only on the condition that we can have rematches of this type from time to time.”

“As you wish milady, anytime at all,” she sighed, departing from the script and kissing me fully on the lips.

I returned her kiss forcefully, letting her know that it was all right, and we cuddled & fondled each other for a few minutes.

The script was at an end, and I stayed in character as Dorothy picked up her few clothes and excused herself from the room. I dressed and slipped out the front door and called a cab. Dorothy soon appeared and we waited for my cab together.

“Thank you very much for the wonderful evening! I enjoyed it soooo much!! You’ll find a large bonus in the mail,” she cooed pleasantly, her hands folded in front of her, nursing her sore breasts.

“That isn’t necessary,” I began to say, but she cut me off.

“Nonsense, you earned every penny,” she continued.

“All right, if you insist. And, I really enjoyed earning my fee tonight,” I told her honestly.

“We must do this again sometime. I’ll have James set up another luncheon date next week.”

I quickly agreed. The cab arrived, and I gave her a hug before getting in, reassuring her that the evening had been enjoyable for me as well. “Goodnight Mrs. Van Der Meir. Thank you for the wonderful evening!” I told her from the cab.

Dorothy handed the cabby a hundred dollar bill, telling him to keep the change. Then she looked me straight in the eyes saying, “I’ll be seeing you next week!”

Then she stepped back away from the curb. We smiled at each other for a moment and then she turned to go back into the mansion. I smiled inwardly, imagining how our next meeting might go… knowing that our best encounters were yet to come.

The End

[Author’s note: Any similarity of names used in this story to actual persons was unintentional and purely coincidental.]