Always Ask Permission

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I didn’t hear the first, discrete tap on the door. I was too taken up with the view from my balcony. It was an untypical English summer’s day. Blue from horizon to horizon and the temperatures well over what we normally enjoy. Spread out before me was a vista of fields and trees. The patchwork of neatly, but randomly divided land, with hedges and the occasional small copse. But my mind was elsewhere today. I could focus on little beyond the low boundary wall of the garden. My attention was on the pool below me. Very common and much-loved in warmer climes it was, for the most part, an unnecessary addition to an English home. Except for fleeting moments such as today.

The girl in the pool was swimming lengths, lazily and without effort. Her image swirled and distorted by the ripples of her passage. Her sleek young body seemed to cut through the water with no effort. I could make out the shimmering of the two black strips of her bikini, trisecting the paleness of her skin. I should be angry as no one had permission to use my pool, but I guessed who she was, so I felt lenient. Plus, I was enjoying the moment too much.

My reverie was spoiled by the sound of the door opening quietly behind me and a soft voice asking, “You called, Sir,”

I shook my head to purge some strangely arousing thoughts and turned towards the voice. Poking her head around the door was Marta, my housekeeper. I beckoned her inside, and she came and stood at my shoulder.

“Can you open a bottle of wine please Marta. But first, who is that?” I asked gesturing to the outside world.

She looked over the balcony edge to where I pointed, leaning forward to get a better view. She suddenly pulled back and her face went pale.

“Oh, Sir, I’m so sorry. I told her to stay in the kitchen but she’s so disobedient sometimes.”

“Like her mother?” I asked, curling my hand around to stroke the inside of her thigh. “I assume she belongs to you?”

“It’s Rosea, my daughter, Sir,” she replied, squirming with pleasure under my touch, “I told her to stay out of the way.”

“Disobedient children. They are the bane of our lives, are they not. But she is like her mother I can tell,” I said with mock admonishment, as I slipped my hand higher on her leg and stroked the silken crotch of her panties. We both stood for some minutes gazing down at the bikini-clad figure gliding through the sun-warmed water of the pool. Finally, I broke the silence.

“Go and open the wine and bring three glasses. And bring her as well, we need to sit and have a talk … about boundaries and obedience.”

She slipped away from my exploring fingers and left the room as I continued to watch the blurry shape going back and forth beneath me. Then it stopped mid-length and went upright, treading water, looking to the side of the pool. With a gentle stroke the girl swam to the side of the pool and, with a dip and a push, made her way onto dry land.

Briefly the blurred figure came into sharp focus. It seemed to me, from my foreshortened perspective that the bikini top existed only for the sake of propriety. It concealed nothing simply because there was so little to conceal. And then she was gone leaving me with my solitary lust-filled thoughts.

Behind me I heard the click as the door opened. I glanced behind me and watched as Marta appeared carrying a tray with a freshly opened bottle of wine and three glasses. I gestured for her to put it on the nearby table. Behind her, lurking in the shadows cast by the bright sunshine came the girl from the pool. She seemed shy and nervous and had wrapped herself in a towel.

“You must be Rosea,” I said, “welcome, I’ve heard a lot about you.” I reached to one side and dragged a second recliner next to mine. I patted the soft cushion, “Come, sit here, I’m dying to meet you.”

Shyly she approached and, clutching the towel safely around her she perched on the edge of the recliner. I smiled at her and turned to her mother.

“Pour three glasses, Marta, and then come and join us. I assume your daughter is old enough to have a drink.”

She nodded in response and there was a twinkle of mischief in her eye. She did as instructed, handing me the first glass, then one to Rosea. Finally, she pulled a third recliner next to mine on the opposite side. She lay back, more relaxed in my company than Rosea who stayed teetering on the edge of her seat, grasping her glass for security.

“Relax, Rosea,” I told her, “we’re just taking a break from the heat of the day.” As I spoke, I deliberately reached across and stroked Marta’s thigh again. I let my hand glide down and then up her thigh, pushing higher than the hem of her short skirt. Call me old-fashioned but I like my staff to dress the part. At the moment I only had Marta as a housekeeper and a much older lady as my cook. Marta had made no objection when I showed her the uniform I expected her to wear. In fact, I think she secretly relished the idea. It had started off as a joke when I suggested it, but Marta quickly took to the idea. She casino şirketleri even helped me pick out ideas from an online catalogue. When she first tried it on, she paraded up and down, posing lewdly in front of me. That had the desired effect on my libido, and I had flung her onto the bed, and we fucked each other in a frenzy. She got very little work done for the rest of that day.

Show me a man who isn’t turned on by a woman dressed in a maid’s outfit and I’ll show you a man close to death. Marta’s outfit was particularly revealing. I’d had it made by a friend adapting designs we had found online. From the start Marta enjoyed the very thought of wearing it while going about her duties. How she felt doing so in front of her daughter I don’t know but it didn’t seem to worry her. To say the skirt was short would be an understatement. She didn’t need to bend over to reveal the minimal panties as they disappeared between the cleft of her arse. The top scooped so low that it displayed and supported rather than covered her tits. The only item that saved her modesty was the tiny apron that just about concealed her nipples. The ensemble was finished off with a pair of five-inch heels. How she ever managed to do any work I don’t know but the house was always spotless and tidy. Needless to say, I had been enjoying the attentions of Marta from the beginning of her working for me.

With my hand well up under Marta’s short skirt I turned my attention to Rosea. Of course, I knew about Rosea but, until today, had never met her. I looked her up and down and she blushed under my gaze. She held her glass of wine before her like a shield.

“Relax, Rosea,” I said, giving her my friendliest smile. “Your mother has told me a lot about you, and I was admiring you in the pool.”

I raised my glass and took a long drink and she responded with a nervous sip. My other hand was busy stroking Marta’s pussy that had already soaked her panties. She was actually getting turned on by being felt up in front of her daughter. Surely it must have been obvious to Rosea what I was doing with her mother. She looked at the floor, trying to ignore what was happening. I put my glass down on the floor and reached out and touched her naked shoulder, pressing her back so she was forced to lie on the recliner.

“I said relax. Enjoy the sunshine.”

I glanced to the other side and winked at Marta who responded with a mischievous grin. Was the cheeky bitch really encouraging me? The stirring of my cock, that I had felt while watching Rosea in the pool, was now increasing. It would have been impossible for either woman to ignore the large bulge in the front of my trousers. I wriggled gently to ease the pressure which only made things worse.

Turning back to Rosea, I commented, “I was admiring you swimming in my pool … however …” this last word spoken with a degree of menace, “you did not ask permission first.”

I turned back to Marta. Her short skirt had now risen up and clearly showed the undulating shapes of my fingers, now inside her panties and stroking her wet cunt.

“She is a wilful girl, is she not?” I asked rhetorically.

“As are most girls her age,” she responded, “but what can I do? I told her to stay in the kitchen and behave.”

“It seems to me that she deliberately came here to make use of the pool,” I said, “why else would she be wearing a bikini instead of proper underwear?”

As I said this I reached across and tugged at the point where Rosea’s towel tucked under itself and pulled it apart. She gave a little shriek as she was exposed in her, very minimal, swimwear and one arm came up to hide her tiny boobs while the other hand rapidly covered her crotch. I laughed and pushed a finger deep inside Marta’s wet cunt. I was enjoying myself. In her anxiety she let go of her glass which landed on the recliner at her hip but spilled its contents across her stomach. I watched as rivulets of wine ran slowly down to soak into the cushion.

I turned back to Marta. “What is one to do with such a disobedient girl?” I asked her.

As I slipped another finger inside her she could barely speak. I picked up Rosea’s glass which was nestled next to her hip and held it out to Marta.

“She needs a refill,” I said, “she seems to have finished this one.”

A look of annoyance and frustration came over her face as I pulled my hand from inside her panties. She took the glass and stood up. As she went to pour more wine, I turned back to Rosea. She lay, frozen as before, doing her best to cover herself. She seemed to wilt under my gaze. I was finding it difficult not to grin at her discomfort as I slowly licked my fingers that were sticky with her mother’s juices. I took hold of her wrist and, with little resistance, pulled it off to the side. For a moment I admired her breasts, small though they were and shielded from view by the two tiny black triangles. Her mother appeared on the far side of her holding a refilled glass of wine.

“Ahh, your mother has kindly brought you more wine.”

She casino firmaları glanced sideways and Marta held out the glass for her to take. I’d kept hold of the wrist closest to me and Rosea was forced to move her other hand to take the glass. The bottom half of her bikini was as small as the top.

“Do you usually allow your daughter to go out in so little?” I asked, as I struggled to keep a firm hold on her wrist to prevent her covering herself again.

“I honestly had no idea she owned something like this, Sir.”

“You should be more vigilant. Maybe it is you that are at fault and should be punished?”

“If I’d known I would not have allowed it, Sir.”

“This time it is not the tiny nature of the swimwear that concerns me, although one could almost call it slutty, don’t you agree?”

“I do, Sir.”

“What really concerns me is the use of my private pool without permission.”

I reached across with my spare hand and took hold of Rosea’s chin, turning her head in my direction.

“What do you think should happen to naughty girls?” I asked her gently.

She seemed frozen in place and simply stared at me with her frightened rabbit eyes.

“What do you think, Marta,” I asked over my shoulder “Should she be punished?”

“I think so, Sir. I made it very clear she should stay out of sight.”

“And yet …” I gripped her chin more tightly, “you decided that you would have a swim. And in such a scanty and provocative outfit.”

At this I let go of her and flicked a finger at her flimsy top and let the thin shoulder strap slip down her arm. Another flick and the first hint of a nipple began to show. The pressure of my hard dick straining inside my trousers was now impossible to ignore. I took her hand and placed it over the tight fabric. At first, she struggled to get away, but I was stronger than she was and pressed her hand onto my erection. Slowly her struggles subsided, and she bowed to the inevitable and wrapped her fingers around it.

“I think a severe spanking is in order. Take her glass, Marta, we don’t want to waste any more expensive wine.”

As Marta placed the glass carefully on the floor, I swung my legs off the side of the recliner and sat up. Rosea’s eyes widened as she realised that I wasn’t joking. I stretched over and grabbed her other arm pulling her towards me. Taken by surprise she rolled across and found herself face down across my knees. She yelped at the suddenness of it all but before she could try and wriggle free, I placed my hand firmly on the small of her back. There was a loud scraping sound as Marta pulled her recliner out of the way. I glanced up and I could tell by the look on her face that I wasn’t the only one having fun.

I looked down to examine the girl that lay before me. The back of her bikini bottoms was, if anything, even smaller and more revealing than the front. A tiny black triangle connected to the front by what was little more than a length of thin string. Lurking in the cleft of her arse cheeks I could just make out the pucker of her anus and beyond it the hint of her pussy. Was I deceiving myself, but could I see a trace of moisture? I place a hand across her cheeks and stroked gently, holding her firmly with the other on the small of her back.

I glanced up at Marta. I had almost expected her to call ‘time’ at any moment, having let me have my fun and hopefully with Rosea already having learned her lesson. But she simply stood there, arms folded, content to let things go and for me to do whatever I wanted with her daughter. When she saw my look, her expression turned from stern to joy and she smiled down at the tableau before her.

My first strike took Rosea by surprise. She must have been expecting it but perhaps not with the force I used. She yelled and her body went stiff under my hand. Without giving her time to recover I struck again on the other cheek. Then I paused. Slowly two red handprints emerged from the pale skin of her arse. Like a primitive photograph I could see individual fingers. I traced the outline of each print with a gentle finger before I struck again.

Now, I didn’t hesitate and rained down a flurry of blows. I shifted my aim as I went along, from the top of her cheeks down and along the tops of her thighs. After about two minutes the whole area was red and glowing. I stopped for a rest and laid my hand across her. She was warm, almost hot to the touch and I could feel small tremors pass under my hands. I took a deep breath. My hand stung in a delightful way. I felt as if it were a job well done. My dick was, if anything, even harder than before and I could feel it pressing into her soft belly with urgency. I would need a release soon. But first I wanted to try something out. I was unsure if it would work but I wanted to test her mother. I looked up to find Marta’s face split by a wide grin.

“We still have the small matter of her disobeying you, do we not?”

“Yes, Sir, we do. Do you wish to continue?”

“To be honest my arm is a little güvenilir casino tired. Perhaps you…?”

“Of course, Sir, it would be my pleasure.”

It was an odd turn of phrase. There was no ‘she’s my daughter, Sir, please can you do it’, nor was there a ‘of course, Sir, it my duty as a mother.’ Just the use of the word ‘pleasure’ revealed so much. I was seeing a facet of Marta I’d never seen before. I had momentary flashes of future fun which went as fast as they came. She looked at me with a knowing smile, like that of a conspirator. I lifted my hands from Rosea and turned them palm up, inviting Marta to do whatever she wanted. A slight wriggle from Rosea prompted me to put one hand back between her shoulder blades to keep her in place.

“But first, what mother wants to see her daughter dressed like this? Like a whore!”

With that she tugged at the two bows that joined the front and back of the bikini bottoms at the hips, and then pulled the two triangles free and held them aloft, wrinkling her nose in disgust. I tried to ignore the irony of Marta being dressed in her maid’s uniform which only just managed to cover her dignity. She threw the scrap of fabric over her shoulder and then did the same to the bikini top. I now had a naked teenager bent over my knees and about to be spanked by her mother. Could life get any better?

Marta moved so that she was standing closer to her daughter next to her shoulder. From there she would spank her vertically and not across as I had done. Her first few blows were given with a surprising force which made Rosea yelp and try to wriggle free. It was as much as I could do to hold her in place. I was forced to use both hands, one across her back and the other gripping her thigh. As Marta continued with her beating, I slowly pulled Rosea’s thigh to one side forcing her legs apart. Marta noticed and took the opportunity to change her tactics. Instead of alternate strikes on each cheek she now aimed straight between them.

Rosea yelped even louder and struggled even more and I had to use all my strength to hold her in place, but her wriggling had allowed me to spread her legs even more. Now Marta could make better use of her hand as she curled it for each blow and striking Rosea’s wet cunt with force. I glanced up at Marta with amazement and she smiled back at me.

“I’ll teach her not to be so disobedient in future.”

Rosea had now gone limp and had stopped trying to escape. I could hear a gentle sobbing coming from below. I frowned at Marta and mouthed the word “enough” to her. she gave one final blow and then stepped back, rubbing her palms together. I pushed Rosea off my knees and she tumbled into a heap on the floor. Marta stepped over her and sat next to me gazing down at the pitiful figure at our feet.

“I hope she can learn a lesson,” said Marta, “and that she is grateful.”

“A little gratitude is what we have a right to expect,” I replied.

I felt Marta’s hand slide across my lap and begin to stroke my hard dick as it pushed against the front of my trousers.

“I know how she can show her gratitude,” said Marta, giving my dick a firm squeeze.

“If you think that would be appropriate,” I replied.

“Don’t worry, Sir, it won’t be the first time,” turning as she spoke, “will it, girl?

As she spoke Marta leant forward and grabbed a fistful of the girl’s hair and pulled her up onto her knees. I must admit she was a pretty thing. Even at eighteen she still showed signs of immaturity. I had been right about the bikini top hiding very little as her boobs were like saucers although her nipples stood out stiffly. I couldn’t believe that she was yet to grow hair so it must be that her pussy was shaved. She was beyond caring about hiding her secret places and her pussy lips shone with moisture. Finally, I had a look at her face. She had been crying, that much was obvious, and her makeup had smeared around her eyes. Her pouty lips were beautifully high-lighted in bright red. She looked beaten and resigned to her fate.

“You know what you have to do, girl,” Marta said in a commanding tone.

And it seemed that Rosea knew what was expected of her. She reached forward and started to fumble with the buckle of my belt. I leant back slightly to get a better view of the display. Marta’s hand was still entangled in her hair and she was pulling her head ever closer. Rosea struggled a little with the zip as she persuaded it over my straining prick. She groped inside, fighting her way into my boxers and then I was free. I felt the sudden rush of hot summer air waft over me. I was harder than I had been for ages.

Rosea tried to back away as my dick sprang out inches from her face but Marta’s firm grip prevented her from going anywhere. She was dragged closer still until my dick rested on her cheek. I swivelled my hips slightly and let it trace the outline of her lips. She needed no further prompting but opened up obediently and allowed me to enter. As her wet tongue played with my very sensitive tip, I felt myself much too close to cumming. I wanted to make this moment last. As a distraction I let her continue while I picked up my abandoned glass of wine and took a large mouthful. Meanwhile Marta was forcing her to take me deeper and deeper.

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