Paid to have sex with the maid: Part 1 (The beginning)

Disclaimer: This is based on a true story. The names of the characters mentioned in the following story have been changed to avoid identification.

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Hello, my lovely readers!

Since this is my first time writing on this wonderful site that I just recently discovered, allow me to introduce myself: I am Kaveri, and I am a 26-year-old bisexual woman living in Gurgaon all by myself. I was born and raised in Delhi, but I knew I had to move away from my parents for the sake of my freedom and independence. I wouldn’t say that I am the most beautiful girl in the room, but I have been called pretty on most occasions! I am 5’2” and my measurements are 36C-30-38. I am fair, have black eyes, and long black hair that reaches my waist. I have a small butterfly tattoo on my collarbone and a scorpion tattoo on my spine near my waist (yes, I am a Scorpio, haha!).

To quickly jump into the story would be doing injustice to the most passionate lovemaking I have ever experienced in my life. So, I would request everyone to be patient here. As the title states, I entered a short relationship with my domestic help (who no longer works for me as she moved back to her village with her husband). Although the time we spent with each other was short, I would never forget the mornings, afternoons, and evenings I spent with my tongue between her legs, rushing her into one orgasm after another.

Let’s name her Fatima – she was a gorgeous 20-year-old maid who would turn heads on the street when she walked by. She was fair, although slightly tanned. She was just a few inches shorter than me; so, around 5 feet. And she had the loveliest figure. Although she was petite, with 34B breasts, she had a slender waist and an ass that was perfect for that body. She had long hair, but she would always tie it up in a bun when she came to work and would alternate between wearing a saree and a suit every day.

Our story started in 2024 when I was 25. I had just moved to Gurgaon with a decent-paying job, which thankfully allowed me to work from home. I rented a 1BHK in one of the posher localities in the region and was supremely grateful that I didn’t have to share my apartment with roommates. My neighbors recommended Fatima to me and assured me that she was a good cook and cleaning lady. I was sold when I inspected her work (and her beautiful figure) and immediately hired her a few days later.

My attraction towards her started slowly. I was obviously very taken by her beauty the first time I met her, but I knew there were boundaries between an employer and a maid. But she was a treat to the eyes whenever she worked. I could not take my eyes off of her when she would bend down to sweep under the bed and offer me a decent view of her cleavage.

It was difficult to concentrate on my work when she would crouch near me to mop the floor, and the silhouette of her ass would be perfectly defined by her tight salwar suits. I would not lie when I tell you that I have rubbed myself on multiple occasions while thinking of her, and many times while she was in the house completing her chores. I guess the thrill of her walking in on me with my fingers in me was such a turn-on that I always reached an orgasm quickly.

I never acted on my feelings for her until one rainy day in August. Fatima had forgotten to carry her umbrella that day, and she was a sight to behold when I opened the main door. She was drenched head to toe and had a sheepish smile on her face. “Sorry, didi, chhaata laana bhool gayi (sorry, I forgot the umbrella at home),” she said as she walked in. Her tight salwar and churidar clung to her body like never before. And I silently thanked the gods for making it rain that day.

I brushed off her apology quickly and offered clean, dry clothes for her to change into. “Bimaar padh jayegi (you will fall sick),” I told her as I reached into my closet to hand her a tight t-shirt and pyjamas. She coyly accepted it, and I waited for her outside as she changed. As she opened the door, I could only gape in disbelief – she looked phenomenal in the outfit. She had also untied her hair to let it dry, and it flowed down till her ass.

“Wah Fatima, tu toh badi hot lag rahi hai (wow Fatima, you look hot),” I teased her, chuckling. She laughed nervously and told me that she had never worn anything like this before, not even before she was married. I nodded and stepped closer to her to inspect her better. I could see her nipples poking through the t-shirt, and I jokingly rubbed both of them with my thumb over her t-shirt. She let out a vehement squeal and stepped back, covering her breasts. I laughed and said, “Arre hum dono hi toh hai (it’s just the two of us here).” “Nahi didi, aise mat chidhao (no, please don’t tease me like this),” she muttered as she ran past me to the kitchen, her cheeks a little pink.

I inspected the clothes Fatima forgot on my bed. Her lime yellow salwar and churidar, her white worn-out bra, and finally, her white panty. I slowly picked it up and sniffed it, savoring the smell of her choot. I looked around to see if she was looking and quickly put it in my pocket. The day went by smoothly, although Fatima refused to make eye contact with me. I guess she was still embarrassed about what happened earlier in the morning. I kept a close eye on her – watching her hips sway in those pyjamas, her breasts slightly bounce as she jumped to clean the upper sides of the windows, and her ass while it shook when she cut vegetables.

Finally, when she completed all her chores, she informed me that she would be changing out of the clothes I lent to her. I nodded and told her that her clothes had probably dried by now and asked her to change (while being fully aware that one piece of her clothing remained safely tucked in my pocket). As expected, Fatima came out of my bedroom looking confused and clearly in search of something. She looked in every nook and cranny but could not find her panty.

“Kya dhoondh rahi hai? (what are you looking for?)” I asked, knowing the answer fully well. She shook her head, embarrassed to name her lost item. “Kuchh nahi didi, kal dekhlungi (nothing, I will look for it tomorrow),” she replied as she hurriedly left. That night, I wrapped her panty around my fingers as I rubbed myself to multiple orgasms while thinking of her.

A few days passed after that incident. Fatima had given up on her search for her missing undergarment and could finally make eye contact with me without blushing. However, my lust for her only grew. I knew I had to make a move or I would regret it for the rest of my life. I was always such a huge proponent of self-control, but around Fatima? I had to physically restrain myself from tearing the clothes off her body and marking her body with my lips. So, I devised a plan: I carefully started a pornographic video on my personal laptop of two women making out and left the room before she could enter it to clean it.

Just like I had planned, I entered the room a few minutes later to see Fatima hunched over the laptop, her eyes glued to the screen. I tiptoed behind her and whispered, “Kya dekh rahi hai? (what are you watching?)”. She yelped, dropping the broom from her hands. “Nahi didi, woh toh main aise hi… (nothing, I was just…)”, she muttered as she turned redder and redder. “Tune dekha hai kabhi aisa? (have you watched something like this ever?)”, I asked, increasing the volume to hear the women in the video moan as they scissored each other. “Didi… mujhe nahi pata tha do ladkiyan… (I didn’t know two women could…)”, her voice trailed off as she watched one of the women reach an orgasm.

I paused the video and gazed at her lustfully. “Fatima…”, I whispered as I moved closer. Before she could recover from the shock of watching such a video, I had already placed both my hands on either side of her head. She gulped as she looked up at me and just stared, her mouth agape. I guess she couldn’t process what was happening quickly enough. I smiled and bent down to kiss her slowly, my lips sucking on her bottom lip as my hands wandered down to her waist. She let out a protesting wail and shook her head while our lips were locked, but she surrendered as the kiss deepened.

As she gave in to her fate, I slowly reached under her kurti to touch her breasts over her bra. Her body jerked instinctively, and her eyes flew open. She tried to push me away and broke the kiss. “Didi, nahi…”, she said breathlessly as our eyes met, “mere shauhar… (my husband…)”, she began before I kissed her again. My tongue brushed against hers, and I slowly sucked on it. She moaned against my lips as my hand reached her back to unhook her bra. I could finally touch her bare breasts; I was on cloud nine.

Fatima could barely resist. Her eyes were closed as I groped her body and rubbed her most sensitive areas. I moved my kisses to her neck, and I could feel her body positively respond to it. Her gasps filled the room, and I was encouraged to finally do what I set out to do that day – I reached into her churidar to touch her choot. As I moved past her churidar’s elastic band, Fatima squealed and tried to push me away again. Ignoring her, I slowly slid my hand into her panties and felt her warm hole wet with juices. I grinned as her eyes widened – she could no longer hide how turned on she was. I had uncovered her secret: she was enjoying this.

“Achha nahi lag raha hai? Rehne doon phir? (You don’t like it? Should I stop this then?)”, I asked teasingly as my index finger ran across the length of her slit. She shuddered against my hand and looked at me pleadingly and wordlessly. I slowly inserted a finger in her while rubbing her left nipple between my fingers. Fatima’s body had opened itself up to me, and I leaned in for a kiss. She kissed me hungrily as I slowly thrust my finger repeatedly in her while massaging her breasts. A few weeks ago, who would have known that I would turn this innocent girl into a sex-hungry slut?

I fingered her vigorously before I decided that I should let her cum. She was already close, I realized, as I could feel her body push against my finger, wanting more of it inside her. I slowly maneuvered my way through her hairy bush and located her clit. Using the juices overflowing from her cunt, I gently rubbed her clit while bending down to kiss her neck. Fatima’s soft gasps and her increasing breathlessness ushered me to rub her clit faster.

Soon, her hands held on to my arms as her knees buckled. Her moans grew louder, and I, concerned that the neighbors would hear, pulled out her white panty that I had carefully saved for just this occasion and stuffed it in her mouth. Surprised at the revelation but having reached her climax, Fatima’s eyes widened only for her eyeballs to roll back as she trembled against my finger. I let her drop to her knees on the ground as her whole body shook while she orgasmed.

I crouched down beside her as she knelt on the floor on all fours, gasping for air while the white panty fell to the floor wet with her saliva. Her ass in the air and her soft moans still echoing in my bedroom, I took the opportunity to spank her once. She let out a shrill squeak and looked back at me with an accusing glare. I laughed as I leaned in to kiss her, pulling her body towards me. She returned my kiss with excessive enthusiasm, having finally learned a lesson in woman-on-woman pleasure.

“Mujhe teri choot dekhni hai (I want to see your pussy)”, I said after a while, breaking off the passionate kiss. Coyly, she slowly took off her churidar and panty and laid down on the floor to reveal her hairy bush. I slowly parted her hair to reveal a light brown cunt, pink on the inside. She was perfect even down there.

I parted her pussy with my fingers; her juices had spread to her thighs, and some even ran down to her butthole. I traced my fingers across her wet, juicy pussy and brought them to my mouth, tasting her juices. She gasped and turned her face away, embarrassed to have witnessed her juices being tasted. She tasted tangy with a hint of saltiness. I knew immediately that I needed to drink her cum from the source itself.

But alas, we were running out of time, and she had to go to other houses to work. After helping her up, I told her that she was not allowed to clean herself down there. I wanted her to go to work and back to her husband with a sticky mess between her legs. She did not protest; she simply smiled and nodded obediently. “Agli baar, uss choot ko chatungi main (next time, I will lick your cunt)”, I told her, lifting her face up by her chin before kissing her. She nodded again and shuffled back to her chores.

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I hope you enjoyed the story! For any feedback, please write to me at [email protected].