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This story was motivated by the sight of a very pretty Indian college girl in an atrocious bikini at the pool this summer. Once it started though, it became an exploration of power exchange.All characters in this story are completely fictional.I welcome all suggestions and comments on the story. It’s not what might be considered ‘hot’ just yet. It’s because the explosive scene I have in mind will now appear in the 2nd chapter. It’s not written yet, but I will certainly work on it if there is interest from you, the readers.If you like slow buildups, you’ll like this. If you’re looking for a quick fix, sorry, this piece is not for you.Enjoy and please let me know what you think or where this could go. Feedback will help me write better stories. ***I saw her for the first time at the pool. Beautiful girls abound here, since it is a faculty pool, and many of the alum have high school and college age daughters. There were plenty of MILFs available as well. Some were health conscious women who took pleasure in their bodies; others were trophy wives, using their summer to tan poolside and feed their kids food the nanny had prepared from large designer sandwich baskets.She caught my eye in the middle of this hubbub because she was Indian. She was trailing a 3 year old child. Au pair. Had to be. This was the first time I had seen an Indian girl with this firm a body in a bikini, albeit an atrocious one. The top was white, with frills on the arms. The cloth didn’t even look waterproof. She wore beige bottoms that didn’t quite cup her ass cheeks. It looked like she was out there in her underwear. It made me wonder if she was a first generation Desi, who was brought up here in the States. But somehow she was stuck in between. She had the attitudes and comfort of a westerner, but the dress sense (at least for bikinis) of a Madras native.But good God she was gorgeous.She moved like an Indian. She had those small stutter steps she took, that made her look like she was skipping as she moved into the water. She was not self conscious at all, focused entirely on the kid she was babysitting, not the men ogling her all around the pool. It was a pleasure to observe. She had long black hair that she periodically tossed out of the way. A classic move in the Bollywood movies. Her body was taut and her skin a light chocolate brown color. I noted with interest that her features were South Indian. I had a chance to take a closer look as I walked over to get a soda from the snack shack. It was clear she had conscientiously removed hair from all visible skin. Her globular, well toned ass was now submerged in the pool, but her very small, pert breasts were above water, enclosed in that frilly white thing she considered a bikini top.You might wonder, quite rightly how I know this much about Indians. It’s because I have what they call Asia burn. My passion for South Asia began with my percussion love for their drumming tradition. In following that and learning what I could about Indian drums, I started to get into Bollywood movies, and then Indian culture. Perhaps it’s in the genes. Having both parents be academics makes it possible to engage in such pursuits.I admired her while I was at the pool, but did not approach her. As is my regular modus operandi, I watched from afar.This is why it was a complete surprise to see her sitting out on the deck that weekend when I drove down to Ocracoke Island to meet my father for a week at the beach. It was something that we used to do as a family, but after Dad divorced Mom, it morphed into our singular father/son bonding event. Dad’s a big gun professor at Carolina. He started a department that did work on Human Computer Interaction. He had very intense interactions with his students, and frequently had more than a collegial interest in them. To his credit, he never dated them while they were his students.One other thing he had never done was bring his young filly of the season to the beach. Not till now, anyway.She was clearly intelligent and self confident. It didn’t bother her at all that we were about the same age and that my father was, well, probably her father’s age. She had an Ataşehir Escort embroidered see through white cotton skirt on and a cloth dye based cotton shirt. Her bikini bottom showed through the skirt and was somehow more arousing than yesterday when I had a clear view of her near naked body. She didn’t try to hide the fact that she was his toy. He told her what to wear to go to the beach that first day, and was very clear about what she should bring with her to the beach.She called him Dr. Clements. He was in charge. That much was clear. From what I could tell, that was part of the draw for her.I didn’t speak to her much the first day. She kept to herself, content to tan herself some, while reading some academic treatise on Positioning Display Items for maximum effect for audiences who read Right to Left languages. Perhaps she reads Arabic I thought to myself. I read, ran on the beach, and spent some time in the ocean. I tried not to be uncomfortable that she was there, but didn’t want her to notice the effect she was having on my cock.Dad was his usual nonchalant self. Mostly in his own head, he would suddenly start up conversations as it suited him. He loved women. He didn’t talk much about why he and Mom were divorced, but I know now that he was sampling the fish in the ocean long before it happened. He never brought any of his trophies to family occasions. They never persisted long enough.”So what’s the deal with this one?” I asked him, when she walked down to the water’s edge to dip her toes.”Does it bother you Mark? I’m sorry. I should probably have said something to you instead of just landing up here with her.’I shrugged my shoulders. “Not a big deal.”Ever since I was a little kid, I didn’t say much to my dad. He was a character that was larger than life. He was constantly pushing me and everybody around him to do more. He was a debate champion, and a Rhodes scholar. Broaching the subject of why she was here was a big stop for me. Challenging him was a futile endeavor.He didn’t pay a lot of attention to her at the beach. Once in a while he would watch her, then go back to his work. His relationship with his work was monogamous and the most consistent thing in my memory of him.He took her that night back at the beach house that we had rented. The sounds emanated from the room across me in waves. She made sounds occasionally, and for a period of time, followed by muffled moving sounds. Once the fucking began however, there was no ignoring it . Amazing how we pay $2200 for a beach front house and then sleep on beds with springs that bray like Eeyor. She called out to him many times.”Yes, Professor Clements. I do. I like it.” “I’ve never done that but I want you to teach me.”At one point it sounded like he was spanking her but I couldn’t’t be sure. There were sharp slaps followed by gasps that seemed quickly hushed. Perhaps in that moment of vulnerability she was aware she would be heard?We had air conditioners on in both rooms but the sound wafted through regardless. I turned up the fan on the AC so that the white noise increased. I hated these goddamn cheap beds. The beach was my one week with Dad. Not anymore. I was instantly attracted to her at the pool and the beach. Yes, I coveted her. I also knew she was not anywhere in my league. Besides, what would I say to impress her? Now he was banging her next door. Unapologetically at that.The week felt cheapened. I couldn’t even get satisfaction jerking off to the sound of her getting dicked. Such an irony that I would feel confident thinking about her being reduced to her sexually animalistic self. I couldn’t even enjoy vicariously the way she was submitting her will to him. I covered my ears with the cheap pillow and tried to will myself to sleep. At least some respite for my eyes. My cock, alas, went untended.I woke up aroused and frustrated. I was turned on by her, and angry with her at the same time. Well, if I was to stop and be honest with myself, the reality is that I was transferring anger towards my dad at her. I have probably been angry with my dad for as many years as he has divorced my mom, Ataşehir Escort Bayan but never said it in any kind of way. I heard so much that I looked like my dad. I suppose I did. We both have the broad shoulders from the swimming we both did in high school and college. Dad swam. So of course, I swam. Luckily, I was good at it. His square jaw is more imposing than mine, because of the steely look in his eyes. He is constantly looking to win, and he loves to enjoy the spoils of victory. Tonight, it was her.I stroked my rock hard erection as the sounds slowly died down. Precum made a stain on my boxers, and I drifted off into a frustrated and fitful sleep.I got up at 7am and went out for a long run. I walked back with my arousal temporarily waived and poured myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She was up, with multiple windows open on her MacBook, checking out the Huffington Post and chatting on FaceBook simultaneously. I tried to think of something clever to say. Instead, all I could think of was who I knew that she might fuck. I wanted to be on that list, but she was my dad’s fuck doll. I just didn’t have a read on this girl, and was pissed that she was sitting in that living room right then.It felt awkward to be in the space together and be silent, so I went with something safe. “Thanks for making coffee.”I found out very quickly that she was direct.”Were we loud last night? I’m sorry. He likes it that way. But then again, you’re his son, so you probably know.”She had on a thin dressing gown. It was silk, I think; I don’t know about such things. I just know it draped her well, and that the hints of skin I saw today, and the one long leg that stuck out on the barstool she was sitting on, was more alluring than the full vision I had of her in her ridiculous bikini earlier in the week.I sipped my coffee. More time to think. Finally I shrugged. “Yea. I heard you, and no I don’t know. This is the first time this has happened.”She stopped typing and tilted her head. “Oh. I’m … sorry then.” She paused for a second and then continued unprompted. “He has this way about him, and has a reputation that precedes him. But I shouldn’t have assumed to say that.”She stuck out her hand. “I’m Pratima””Mark” I said as I shook her hand. That was the first time I was aware she was looking me over. I had shorts on, and wasn’t sure if I was tenting. I hadn’t expected her to be up, so had pulled my wet t-shirt off when I walked in.She smiled at me. “You shave your chest do you? Swimmer? You must be pretty good.”She was not pretentious. I found it hard to stay irritated at her. “How do you figure that?””Well, only the serious ones shave. We girls, we do our legs our underarms, and our bikini lines. So we know.”I smiled deprecatingly. “Can’t argue with logic. I swim on the college squad, yea.””So…. Is this weird. I mean, does this bother you?”How was she able to be so damn direct? She was either supremely confident or over sharing because she was nervous.I shrugged my shoulders.”If you were to become my mother it would bother me some, yes.”She let out a delighted laugh. “Oh my God. You are such a cute one.”I sipped my coffee.She sobered up some. “I don’t know why I’m so attracted to him. It’s instinctual and magnetic. I told myself I’m just his next six month trophy, if that. But here I am.” There was a hint of sadness now. The first chink in the armor I had seen.”Where’s Dad?”Her head was back in her Mac Book again. Classic Gen Y chick. Easy enough for me to say, I fit the same demographic.”Oh, he’s gone for the day. He’s got some conference call he had to take and is going to some business center to take it.”I remembered slowly that my week with Dad in all these years really wasn’t a week with Dad. It was us physically having a week together in the same house with him absent most of it. Perhaps I wanted that memory to be different; no doubt I was willing my imagined reality to match life.He brought her here. He was probably going to fuck her every night, and then leave me to deal with her during the day.She looked up from her laptop again.”I don’t want to get in your Escort Ataşehir way. So if you want to be alone I can go to the beach. If you want to be at the beach alone, I can stay here.””No. You’re fine” I mumbled.”Or … we can hang out. I have to work on a paper, but I also told myself that I was going to have some fun. Its not everyday I get a week at Ocracoke.”I looked up from my coffee. My eyes probably gave away my anticipation.”Maybe you can teach me how to swim.” She smiled. “That’s one thing I have wanted to do but never done.”I grinned at her. “Not in that bikini of yours. It will slip right off.”She made a face and groaned. “Oh God. It’s horrible isn’t it? It’s a hand me down from my sister. She’s seven years older than me. I need to get a decent swimsuit. It’s just I never use it. No pool, no beach time.”She got up and moved over to the middle of the room. Shedding her dressing gown she dropped to the floor and began doing sit-ups.”A little help?” She was looking at me from the floor.I put the coffee cup and sat down, putting my hands down on her feet.”It’s just as effective to do it with your legs up” I said this to be helpful, and so that she could do it unassisted. I then realized that it could be misinterpreted as me wanting to get a peep show.”Oh just hold them please. I’m old fashioned and don’t have time to keep up with the latest things. I just want a flat stomach.”She stopped after the fourth or fifth one.”Tell me how many I should do.”I looked at her.”How many can you do?””Left to myself, about 25. If I’m ordered to, probably 40 to 50.”The words that sprang to my mind I choked down in my throat. I wanted to say it. I sensed it, but I just was not confident enough. My father’s aura was in the room even though he had physically left.”That’s just with Dr. Clement though.” I said dryly, lifting an eyebrow.She looked at me. “You’re just like your father. Now don’t psychoanalyze me. Just tell me how many.””Ok. Fine. 60″She looked up wide eyed. I noticed then that her eyes were an almond brown. I also saw that she had delicate but sharp features. A high chin, a dainty nose and soft lips. Her belly was tense, her shoulders were set,and she had her hands behind her neck. I made sure My torso was away from her feet because I could feel my erection growing.She looked at me for a few seconds. I watched her. Then she nodded slowly and exhaled. It felt as though she had a new comfort now that she knew what she had to do. She began, and easily made her way through the first 24. She exhaled louder on 25 – 30 and then the grind began.”Talk me through it.” “You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”She began to grimace. As her core muscles started to fatigue, she began to use her hands and her legs to pull up. Slowly, those knees that were pressed together started to open. Her black cotton panties were right in front of me.”Keep your elbows in and use this” I reached forward and sharply tapped her abs with three fingers. Lord knows how many times my trainers and coach had screamed me through my core workouts.45. She was working hard now, but not quitting. Then all of a sudden at 47, she hit a wall. A frantic look appeared in her eyes.”I … can’t.””15 more. You can do this.””No. I can’t.”I looked directly into her eyes as she came up for her 48th. “Don’t you dare stop. Do you understand me. You finish this for me.”She closed her eyes, and dropped her head in assent, then did two more. She was tensing up again, thinking about how much she had left.‘Who is in charge here?’ I asked her. If I am to be honest, I didn’t know the answer to that question. I was just instinctively doing what my coaches and trainers have done with me. The way they took charge, and gave me a clear path to success.She closed her eyes as she grimaced, grunting the words through gritted teeth ‘you are.’‘That’s 53.’ I told her. ‘My job is to get you to 60. Your job is to do what you’re told. I plan to do my job. Are you going to do yours?’She nodded as she labored through her sit ups.‘Tell Me. I want to hear it.’‘I’m going to do my job.’‘What’s your job?’‘To do what I’m told.’56, 57. She wasn’t really paying attention. Just moving through them.”I’m right here.” It felt good to be able to say that. I wanted to say that at so many levels.I do not know if I imagined it, but it looked like she shut her eyes tighter as she heard it.59, 60.She grabbed her knees and huffed, hair disheveled and tumbling over her face.

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