Lisette's Summer Holidays

"What do you think?" I asked Maria, pirouetting on my toes in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom.

"Its nice, but I still prefer the Versace," she answered, lounging on her bed.

We had been trying on clothes all afternoon, raiding her mother's and elder sister's wardrobes.

"Would Theresa let me borrow it, do you think?"

"Maybe...depends on what mood you catch her in. Since she split up with Pedro she has been an utter bitch."

"Could you ask her? I have to have something for the party. Please?" I beseeched her.

"OK, OK...but you might have more chance yourself. She likes you, and more to the point she still thinks I am her silly little baby sister."

Maria Immanol and I had been friends since we met at the finishing school in Switzerland, aged sixteen. Back then you might have believed Maria was someone's baby sister, but in the past two years she had blossomed into an undeniably grown up and extremely beautiful woman. She had dark hair- almost black- and huge long lashed brown eyes. Her olive skin was smooth and flawless. Her full-lipped mouth always hovered on the brink of a sultry pout. She had curves I envied without being even close to fat, full yet remarkably pert breasts, a bottom that elicited wolf whistles in the street, and dancer's legs. In short, she made me sick with envy, even though I was not ashamed of my own slimmer physique. It was just that admiring men always surrounded Maria, and I inevitably felt rather pale by comparison. The thing was Maria was warm and generous and fun to be with as well as beautiful and it was hard to be jealous for long. She was also the youngest daughter of one of Spain's wealthiest families. In the circumstances I could hardly turn down her invitation to go to stay with her family in Mallorca that summer. We had finished our exams and left the Swiss school, and had three months of holiday before we were due to start at university. I had made an indecently brief visit to my own family in Paris and then jumped on a plane to the Balearics.

I peeled off the silk dress I had tried on and picked up the black Versace. It was exquisite- backless and low cut, very simple, effortlessly elegant.

"Try it again, without a bra this time," Maria suggested.

I unclipped my bra and for a moment looked at myself standing in just my favourite black silk g-string in front of the mirror. A week in Mallorca, with plenty of water skiing, sailing and swimming, had already given me a nice deep tan and made my hair go a lot fairer.

"Si, si, you look gorgeous darling, now try the dress on," Maria teased from the bed.

She was wearing a white bikini; not a skimpy Brazilian style thing, but a classic seventies style cut, the kind of thing you would see women wearing in a James Bond film. Against her dark skin it looked fantastic.

I slipped into the dress and struck a pose, meeting her eyes in the mirror, seeking her approval.

Before she could say anything the door flew open and Maria's elder sister strode in.

"Maria, you little bitch. What the fuck do you think you're doing with my clothes? How dare you go into my room without asking me."

Theresa was as strikingly beautiful as her sister. She was taller, with a lithe yet muscular frame, honed by endless lengths of the Olympic sized swimming pool with its spectacular views of the mountains of northwest Mallorca. Her hair was an expensively cut mane, dyed to a honey blonde, which suited her high cheekbones and bright green eyes. She had certainly inherited her mother's genes, I thought. The girls' mother, Eva, was a former Czech movie star and had featured, in her youth, in the work of Helmut Newton and other famous photographers. Her elder daughter was wearing a bikini that would have got her arrested in the communist Czechoslovakia of her mother's childhood. It was as minimalist and flimsy as possible, three tiny triangles of sheer, bright yellow Lycra held in place by strings. She wore high heels and looked like a movie star herself.

As Theresa was scooping up clothes from the floor and bed, she continued to berate Maria, switching from Spanish to English and back again, depending on which particular insults took her fancy. Maria did little to placate her.

"Get the fuck out of my room, Theresa. You can't just barge in here when you feel like it. And you said I could borrow your clothes," she added unconvincingly.

"Utter bullshit. And even if I ever did say that, which I did not, that offer is now withdrawn. Get your own clothes. These are for grown ups."

She turned to leave, and then paused, appearing to notice me for the first time.

"Is that my dress?" she asked. "My Versace?"

"Yes," Maria and I said in unison.

"Shut up, little girl, I wasn't asking you," Theresa said to her sister, keeping her eyes on me, a strange glint in her eye.

"I'm sorry Theresa," I murmured. "It's all my fault really, I needed something to wear for your parent's party and I asked Maria if I could look in your wardrobes. I should have asked."

"That's OK, Lisa." She smiled warmly at me. "It really suits you."

"Umm, its Lisette," I said, embarrassed. "But thanks."

"Yes, Lisette, of course it is." She was appraising the dress, moving around me.

"You'll need some shoes. Come with me, lets see if I've got something that will go with those."

Turning to Maria with an exaggerated sneer she said: "Father wants you to go and see the florist about Friday, shit head. So get dressed and on your way to town before the shops close."

Maria rolled her eyes theatrically at me as Theresa exited with a toss of her hair.

"What a fucking bitch...still at least you got the dress," she grinned, tugging on a pair of jeans.

I knocked on the door of Theresa's room.

"Come on in Lisette."

I walked in to the enormous bedroom and looked around, but there was no sign of her.

"I'm in the bathroom," she called to me. Like her sister she had an en suite, of course not to mention walk in wardrobes, and a balcony with a view over the acres of grounds- the lawns, palm trees, flower beds, tennis courts, the heliport, all laid out below us with the sea in the distance shimmering in the summer heat.

I stared out across all the trappings of immense wealth and thought of my parent's modest house in a suburb of Paris. Only the wealth of an aunt had allowed them to send me to the school in Switzerland. Maria and Theresa lived in a different world.

I began hanging the clothes Theresa had retrieved from her sister's room.

"The shoes are all in here, have a browse while I take a shower."

I turned to see Theresa by the door to a huge cupboard, which contained more shoes than I had ever seen in one place before in my life.

"Leave those...the maid will take care of it later."

She untied her bikini top and dropped the tiny scrap of fabric on the floor, kicked off her high heels, and then went to stand in front of a mirror on the open door of the cupboard.

"Fucking tan lines," she said, cupping her breasts in each hand. "Whenever father is here we have to sunbathe with tops on in case the staff get funny ideas...so ridiculous," she said. "As if that decrepit valet of his and the moronic gardeners could hold an idea in their thick skulls. Ah well, he'll be back in Madrid come Sunday."

I was standing a couple of feet from her looking at the shoes, trying to decide what might work with the dress. I crouched down to look at some on the lower shelves and as I did Theresa hooked her thumbs into the waist band of the bikini g-string she wore and slid them down over her perfectly toned thighs.

The movement made me turn and suddenly I found myself looking at eye level at the smooth curve of her bottom. As she bent down she kept her legs straight, and her buttocks parted slightly to reveal the full swell of her labia, perfectly depilated. I felt myself blushing bright red, and dragged my eyes away as she stood up, suddenly intently focused on shoes.

"What about, erm, these?" I stammered, holding an entirely unsuitable pair of pumps.

I got to my feet.

"No, no, no. You need something like these," she said, lightly resting a hand on my shoulder as she bent slightly to pull out an elegant pair of black Prada heels.

She appeared not to notice my discomfort.

I tried the shoes on; I was unable to stop myself sneaking glances at this statuesque and stark naked woman next to me. There was tiny trimmed patch of pubic hair left above the pouting, dark lips of her pussy. Why was my heart pounding? Maria and I always changed in front of each other. We had shared a room for two years. All the girls at school showered communally. Why did this feel so different?

"They look good," she said.

"Thank you," I murmured, unable to meet her eyes, staring at her small, dark nipples, finding myself thinking 'yes, they look good too.'

"Well anything else, just let me know. Oh and be a darling and tell mother I am going out for dinner, no idea when I'll be back. See you tomorrow...Lisette," she said, and with another toss of that mane of hair she disappeared into the bathroom.

I hurried back to my room in a state of confusion. I was glad Maria had gone on her father's errand- I did not want her to see how flustered I had become by the encounter with Theresa. My guest room was almost as well appointed as the sisters' rooms: there was a bathroom en suite, though another guest room, currently empty, shared it. When I entered the room the maid was tidying and cleaning.

I smiled and said hello. She asked if she should come back later, but I told her to carry on as I planned to take a bath.

The maid's name was Katrina, and like all the house staff working for Maria and Theresa's parents, in the summer she travelled with them from the huge town house in Madrid to the villa in Mallorca, and in the European winter accompanied the family to the estate in Chilean Patagonia. Only the garden staff and drivers were locals. I guessed Katrina was not much older than me. In many ways I had more in common with her than I did with the family of the house. I could never get used to having servants. No sooner had I said I planned to have a bath than Katrina had gone to the bathroom to get it ready for me. I told her not to bother, but she simply ignored me.

Quite shyly she said how much she liked the dress.

"It belongs to Theresa," I said. "I could never afford something like this."

When the bath was ready she stood waiting for me to undress. I carefully handed her the Versace and then went into the bathroom in my underwear. I was just stepping out of the g-string when Katrina appeared. She held out her hand and took the little g-string.

"I must collect all the laundry," she explained. "Can I look?" she asked, holding the underwear up. "So pretty," she said, giving me a little shy smile again.

"If there is anything else I will be next door finishing your room, Senorita."

"Lisette...please call me Lisette," I said.

Again I got a little smile and realised for the first time that Katrina was an extremely pretty girl. She had classically Latin complexion, hair and eyes. A firm and quite large pair of breasts strained against the white blouse of her maid's uniform.

Alone in the bathroom I sank into the warm water. Next door I could hear Katrina humming a tune as she cleaned and dusted. I thought about what had happened with Theresa and found myself thinking about her athletic body, the slightly intimidating presence of her, and feeling a shudder of unexpected sexual excitement run through me.

What was going on? I had never even fantasised about other women. At school being accused of being a dyke or 'lezzer' was about the worst thing that could happen. We all heard stories about other schools and occasionally rumours about teachers or pupils at ours, but our sexual energies were directed at the boys in the town or at home.

I washed and rinsed and stretched out in the huge bathtub. I let my hands slide down between my legs and gently stroked myself from the smooth skin of my perineum to the folds of my labia around my clit. What started as a cleaning exercise quickly became the familiar comforting routine of masturbation in the bath. We had taken communal showers at school but there were private bath cubicles and I was sure I was not the only girl to relieve the tension of endless conversations about sex, taking advantage of the privacy a bath. I was gently approaching orgasm, the images of Theresa's taut buttocks persistently recurring despite my attempts to focus on a more heterosexual fantasy.

Then I heard voices from my bedroom. Katrina's voice and another voice in rapid accented Spanish. It was Eva, the lady of the house. And she sounded pissed off.

I heard Katrina apologising and then eventually Eva telling her to get on with it. Then it was quiet. Poor Katrina. I hoped she was not in real trouble. Presumably she was supposed to be doing something else. I resumed the motion of my fingers on and around my clit but my heart was not in it now. I stood up and plucked a big towel off the rail, wrapping it around me and padding noiselessly across the limestone floor back into the bedroom.

I was so unprepared for the scene that greeted me that it took me some time to work out what I was looking at. Eventually it became clear, startlingly so: Katrina was on all fours on the huge bed, her skirt lifted up, knickers hanging off one ankle, her blouse open, breasts swaying slightly. Behind her, kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, with her face buried between Katrina's thighs, was Eva.

I must have made a noise- probably a sharp intake of breath in sheer surprise- because Katrina heard and looked over her shoulder at me. She looked embarrassed but said nothing. Eva's head was bobbing busily, working up and down and side to side, occasional muffled noises. She had a hand on each of Katrina's buttocks and was spreading the maid wide open.

I stepped quietly backwards into the bathroom. I positioned myself so I could see through the gap on the hinges side of the bathroom door.

Eva was naked. A silk robe lay in a crumpled heap beside her. I looked her over and saw that she had taken exceptional care of herself. Maybe a surgeon had helped keep those breasts so firm and upright; maybe a tiny hint of cellulite could be detected on the back of her thighs, but she was tanned, lean and looked like a woman in her mid thirties rather than a fifty something. She was licking Katrina in a way that seemed to be about her own pleasure in the feasting, rather than with any focus on making Katrina come. She pushed two fingers into Katrina's pussy, briefly worked them in her and then pushed the same two fingers into Katrina's mouth, all the while keeping her mouth busy between her round buttocks. I heard Katrina gasp once, and she seemed to arch her back a little, but other wise she just knelt impassively allowing her employer to have her way with her. To my amazement Eva was clearly licking the maid's bottom, keeping one hand busy on the maid's pussy, the other hand clamped between her own thighs.

I was becoming increasingly aroused by what I was witnessing. Katrina's response suggested this was a regular part of her working life; Eva's demeanour suggested she took intense pleasure from slurping hungrily on the maid's backside. When Eva stood up I got a full and clear view of Katrina from behind. Dark, neatly trimmed pubic hair covered the mound of her sex, and spread back up the cleft between her buttocks, surrounding the deep brown skin of her anus which glistened wetly against the paler tan of her buttocks. The older woman slipped a finger into Katrina's bottom, reaching with the other hand to grab hold of one of the maid's breasts. Eva was muttering obscenities, telling the younger woman how she was going to fuck her, use her like the slut she was and then hand her over to her husband.

"You like having my husband fuck you don't you? You like having his fat cock in your ass don't you, you cheap whore?" she hissed into Katrina's ear.

"Si, Senora, si," Katrina replied.

Eva pulled her finger out of the younger girl and pushed her over onto her back. She swiftly positioned herself over the maid's mouth and then lowered her pussy onto the obedient tongue waiting below.

I was rubbing myself now, aching to come, my fingers restlessly circling my clit.

Eva got there first, throwing back her head and gasping through gritted teeth: "Fuck, yes, that's it."

She did not stop, merely slid forward and curtly instructed her maid "Now, lick my asshole out, slut, and make it good."

That pushed me over the edge. I came with a shudder, desperately controlling my breathing, gripping the edge of the doorframe to keep myself from falling as my knees went weak beneath me. I need not have worried about the noise because almost immediately Eva began to come on her maid's face, rubbing her own clit frantically while exhorting Katrina to use her tongue.

Then, as though nothing unusual had happened, Eva slipped on her robe and without a word left the room. I stood in stunned silence.

On the bed Katrina slipped back into the cheap black lacy knickers she had on, and sat up, adjusting her skirt, buttoning her blouse. She looked up as I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She met my look with a steady gaze, a hint of defiance in it, but a hint of embarrassment too.

"Are you OK?" I said.

This was not what Katrina expected and in her surprise she laughed out loud.

"Why, yes, of course," she said. Then she looked hard at me: "You want some of the same, yes?" she said in a slightly resigned tone, pausing on the last buttons of her blouse.

"No...not in the slightest."

Katrina looked confused, and then defiant again: "Don't judge me, Senorita...don't patronise me or pity me. And I am not some kind of whore either, whatever you might think."

"No...I..."

Katrina was fully dressed and presentable again now. She made for the door. From down the hallway I heard Eva's voice calling her.

"Well, I will be back to finish your room after I have finished with Senor and Senora Immanol. They like to start all over again you see."

"Are you going to...with...?" I blurted in amazement.

Katrina turned with half a smile: "Well what do you think? I am sure you heard what the Senora said, didn't you? Her husband is waiting." With that she left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

I returned to the bathroom, my head reeling. The thought of Maria's parents violating the pretty young maid was incredibly arousing, and images of her curvaceous body, as well as Eva and Theresa's tanned lithe limbs crowded my mind as I played with myself again, sitting on the edge of the bath so I could see myself in the mirror. I came quickly but it was not enough, my pussy was aching, my nipples rock hard as I traced a finger wet with my own pussy juices over my breasts. I knelt on the floor on the bathmat, my back to the mirror, supporting myself on the side of the bath. I picked up my hairbrush- a large long handled wooden one- and reached back with well practised hands slid the handle between my legs rubbing the smooth varnished wood against my labia. I sighed with pleasure as I eased it into myself and began to gently fuck myself. My other hand went to my clit and I began to renew my masturbation, taking my time, easing off each time I felt the climax build in me. I thought of Katrina on all fours, her mistress licking her ass. I tried to picture her being fucked by Senor Immanol. Instead I found the image I had seen of her spread on all fours, the dark pubic hair, the slick wet creases of her anus and the swell of her labia seen from behind, Eva's finger penetrating her ass. The maid's obedience and submission were what excited me most. Somewhere in me this had awoken my own desire to submit. My finger circled my clit again and again and my hips bucked back to accommodate more of my makeshift dildo. This time I came with a loud involuntary gasp followed by a long moan of unbridled pleasure. I looked over my shoulder and saw how I looked, on my knees, my legs spread. I eased the hairbrush out and dropped it on the floor. Unbelievably I just felt even hotter. From this angle I could see the wetness spreading down my thighs. I put a hand on each buttock and spread my ass, revealing the tight pale pink pucker of my ass and a hint of the neatly trimmed soft pubic hair around my pussy. I began stroking my clit again, more firmly this time. I wondered what it felt like to be licked by another woman, to have my pussy and asshole touched by another woman's tongue. It was such a deliciously naughty thought. I slid two fingers into my wetness, lost in my own fevered imagination.