Introduction

Mrs Amsel scrubbed at the inside of the oven with the small scouring pad, her manicured nails had been ruined by this weeks unaccustomed manual labour but it was almost over.  It was Friday and in a few hours she'd be paid and able to salvage a grain of dignity by declining further cleaning work from Mrs Fumbe.  The most irritating part for Mrs Amsel was how the black women feigned concern for her financial woes and offered the small amount of cash as almost mocking charity.

Unlike most cleaners Mrs Amsel knew her employer well as a "friend".  They were neighbours on the expensive estate in Harrow.  However, that didn't mean Mrs Amsel considered them equals.  Aside from Mrs Fumbe obvious "ethnic background" she was also new money, a central London single mother of two who'd just got lucky on the Lotto.  Where as Mrs Amsel was married to a wealthy banker...who had unfortunately disappeared on a business trip in South America 6 months ago, leaving their joint account empty and rumours of foreign mistress.

A voice behind Mrs Amsel reminded her, in a thick accent to do the back of the oven as well.  She didn't respond but made a point of reaching further in so it was clear she was scrubbing the back as instructed.  The two young black girls watching, they liked watching the old bitch do any house work that had her down on her knees.  They were 18 years old and in a few weeks would start at university, but despite everything they needed to do to prepare the twins found supervising a was much more entertaining way to spend their afternoons.

Mrs Fumbe's had two daughters; Masozi and Sauda, both of whom hated their neighbour.  Not long after moving to their new home they'd gotten drunk one night and decided to go skinny dipping in her pool.  Mrs Amsel had caught them and subjected them a loud verbal scolding while they dripped naked on her patio, refusing to let the young girls dress until she was done.  Both girls were sure that night they'd seen the upstairs curtains move and privately joked that seeing them naked was the reason her husband decide to leave her for some young black pussy.

Mr Amsel did indeed enjoy a good show that night.  The girls were both tall and beautiful with slim waists and pert B cup breasts still waiting to flower.  Their hair was jet black and short with not a single strand present below their necks.  But best of all their skin was the darkest brown of roasted coffee beans, which nicely showing off their African heritage.  In contrast Mrs Amsel almost 40 but shorter than both of them, with long blonde hair, currently tied in a tight bun and milky white skin.  In her youth she'd been pretty and it was still apparent on her face but age and motherhood had added some weight, shaping her body into a curvy hourglass with a wide bottom and voluptuous DD breast on top.

The wide bottom in question was now poking from the kitchen oven and wiggled amusingly as the owner tried to de-grime the inside.  The girls were chatting casually and Sauda was sliding her finger around the rim of Mrs Amsel's half full coffee cup, much like someone playing silent note on a wine glass.  Then without any change in their tone or audible indication that something untoward was happening Sauda's finger left the rim of the mug and returned to her knickers, once again coming out glistening.  Mrs Amsel had always said that Mrs Bahati's coffee had a “slightly unusual taste”, it was a tactful insult but it now also left her no excuse as to why she wouldn't drink her coffee with its unusual flavours added by the girls each day.

Mrs Amsels head emerged from the oven a little red faced and exchanged false smiles with the girls who returned them honestly when she started to drink her coffee.  It was at that point the girls began the plan they had put together carefully the night before.  Since they suspected Mrs Amsel would quit today they wanted to use this last chance to get even with her.

First Masozi had to spill her fruit drink on Mr Amsel, not just on her dress but enough on her face and hair to require a shower.  Both girls had wanted to do this part but Masozi had shown her sister how natural she could make it look.  Once their neighbour was in the shower they'd take her dress and “accidentally” collect her underwear as well.  This would all go into the washing machine forcing her to dress commando in some of their mothers old clothes.  They'd explain that since she was going to work in them and without underwear they'd obviously have to be old ones they could throw out afterwards.

The clothes the girls had selected weren't in fact their mothers, they'd searched her wardrobe but couldn't find anything sufficiently nasty or embarrassing so in the end they'd gone to some charity shops in their old neighbourhood.  The outfit they brought considered of shorts and a t-shirt.  The shorts were pink with yellow trim and had the words “Booty” written across the back in red glitter letters.  They were so worn that small holes had formed in the fabric around the crotch.  Above this Mrs Amsel would be wearing a tight white t-shirt with the words “I <heart picture> BBC!” in brown letters.  Both girls thought this might be pushing it but they were confident such a stuck up woman wouldn't know the abbreviation BBC wasn't referring to TV.

Well it had taken a lot of planning, speed, skill and most of all their powers of verbal persuasion every step of the way but they'd done it.  Now they looked at their achievement trying to conceal their glee.  Mrs Amsel was a sight to behold, the tight t-shirt did indeed show off her large breasts nicely and without any support they shifted under the fabric obscenely as she squirmed beneath the girls gaze.  The equally tight shorts were crowned with an embarrassing muffin top and unbeknownst to Mrs Amsel her blonde pubs were now sprouting from the stretched and expanded holes either side of her camel toe.

The girls assured her that she looked fine and that no one was planning to visit today.  They suggested she finished up her work since they wanted to give her a pause to settle before they moved on with their plan.  It was after she'd completed her final house chores that the girls mentioned the stables.  They explained that mucking out the horse was done each Friday and lied that the last cleaner had also done it.  In fact their mother expected them to do it as one of the conditions she set down for them having such an expensive and high maintenance pet.  Mrs Amsel said the clothes she had on weren't appropriate for such a messy task but the girls reminded her they planned to throw them out and any mess that was on her could be washed off easily enough.

The house backed onto a large field also owed by the Bahati's and the horse was stabled in a building just passed their garden fence.  It was a very smelly and unpleasant task but Mrs Amsel desperately wanted this day to end so she threw herself into it.  When she was done she headed back to the house, her clothes and exposed skin were covered in muck and her body stank of sweat, but it was all finally over.

The L shape of the house meant the patio was sheltered into a corner between two perpendicular walls with entrances onto it from two receptions rooms, both of which Mrs Amsel discovered were locked.  At that moment Sauda came around behind her, the girl was now dressed in her ridding gear, a white blouse, skin tight camel coloured jodhpurs, black leather riding boots, gloves and a ridding hat.  Her eyes were hidden behind expensive looking sunglasses and Mrs Amsel wasn't even sure which sister it was.

The outfit had a powerful elegance that made Mrs Amsel adjust her own clothes uneasily.  Sauda told her that she hoped she wasn't planning to go into the house in that state as she sniffed the air theatrically.  When Mrs Amsel protested that there wasn't an alternative Sauda threw a bar of soap to her feet.  For the first time Mrs Amsel noticed that Sauda was holding the end of a garden hose.  Realising what was being suggested Mrs Amsel began to protest but Sauda told her the alternative was to walk home, both of them knowing such a journey couldn't be made without some of her friends seeing and in her current state creating all sort of humiliating gossip.

Inside the house Masozi was setting up the tripod for the digital camcorder.  This one would be static, the lens poking discretely between the blinds of the patio doors.  In the neighbouring she control the camera herself so the footage from that angle would likely be better and more closely follow the action.  Outside she could hear the old bitch begging Sauda, she wondered if her sister was listening to it to buy her time to get ready or just for her own enjoyment.  Either way the woman realised it was no good and accepted Sauda's terms.

The nozzle of the hose was yellow plastic and shaped into a pistol grip with a large round head.  When Sauda pulled the trigger a wide soft spray of icy cold water enveloped Mrs Amsel, who let out a high pitched squeal.  Both girls were pleased with the immediate effect.  The t-shirt, which already left little to the imagination, now became totally transparent as it clung to the large breasts beneath it and each of Mrs Amsels  nipples involuntarily to the size of M&Ms.

Once Mrs Amsel had soaped her arms, legs, face and neck Sauda showered her off then instructed her to turn around and wash again while she sprayed the water against her back.  There didn't seem to be a point to this but she did it, unaware that she was being filmed and both girls wanted to get good footage of her from every angle.  When the second rinse was done the water stopped and Mrs Amsel asked for a towel but instead the young black girl order her remove her top.  This brought more angry protests from Mrs Amsel but since her position hadn't improved since the last negotiations the outcomes was the same.

When the t-shirt was pulled up it lifted each breast with it, until they were pulled up below the woman's neck.  They hung there for a moment then slipped free and landed  with two heavy slaps  on her chest.  When she was commanded to lose her shorts too there was no argument but a silent look of pity was offered up to the impassive black girl shortly before they were also dumped with a wet splat onto the patio paving.

The naked white woman looked around fearful of observers as she cupped her crotch with one hand and barred her nipples from view with the other arm, unaware that camera's were recording every detail less that 8 feet away.  The water returned and Mrs Amsel nervously began to soap her most private places.  Now that the old bitch was in a much more vulnerable state Sauda thought she would experiment with some of the different nozzle settings.  Without warning she twisted the yellow head around and the wide soft spray of water tightened into a ferocious beam.

The woman screamed at the sudden change in force but Sauda shouted at her to keep washing, moving left or right to block her exit and keeping her pinned in their open air shower cubical come film studio.  The effect of the high pressure water fascinate Sauda as she noticed the way Mrs Amsels fat quivered and rolled away from the point where the beam struck.  But she was soon bored teasing the fat and found a new game to play.  Spraying the woman's face caused her to bring her hands up as a shield but this also left sensitive area's exposed which Sauda could redirect the beam before the woman could move her hands.  Sauda liked to keep the woman guessing where she was going to strike next, usually on one of her big bullseye nipples but occasionally Sauda would treated herself to Mrs Amsels tender pussy which always rewarded her with a dramatic reaction.

On the other side of the nearby glass Masozi watched her sisters abuse jealously.  Well she'd lost the coin toss last night and at least she got to throw the drink on the old bitch.  Being the camera woman did have one advantage though.  While capturing every moment of Mrs Amsels distress with her camera Masozi's other hand was free to touch herself in a way that was making the show even more entertaining. 

Finally, the facade of any reasonable justification gone, Sauda openly order Mrs Amsel to bear her puckered hole for cleansing.  Now in tears the woman turned and bent over, spreading her large cheeks with each hand.  Pumping the trigger Sauda made pulsing jets of water punch at the tender asshole and pussy for several minutes until she was finally satisfied and stopped.  A couple of tea towels were tossed onto the ground next to where Mrs Amsel now knelt facing the patio window.

Sauda told the women to come into the living room when she was dry, there was something she needed to see.  It was several minutes before she joined the girls who were both seated on the sofa facing the large flat screen TV.  On the coffee table was her dress and underwear clean, dry and folded.  On top was brown envelope with her wages, freeing her from ever having to return.  When Mrs Amsel picked up her things Masozi pressed a button on the remote control and the large TV screen flashed into life, filled with an image of Mrs Amsel naked, soaping her breasts and pussy.  It was awful, she felt like her stomach had suddenly been filled with lead.  She dropped to her knees and looked at the girls who were already discussing the best place to upload the video after a little editing.

When the girls had settled on YouTube they explained that the absolute humiliation of everyone she knew seeing this could be avoid however.  They were satisfied that she'd paid for what she did to them beside her swimming pool but she still owed them for what happened the following afternoon in her husbands study.  Since she'd now been paid the video was just something they created to provide a new incentive for her and a powerful one at that.  Tomorrow the girls would visit her home for the second half of what Mrs Amsel had coming and when they were done she could have the tape.