Water quality measurement

Jan glanced at his watch and sighed dramatically.

“The photos are okay so far, but they’re just too boring. People want more interaction and a real story. We need pictures that tell a story.”

He thought for a moment, then his face lit up.

“I’ve got it. We’ll do a little ‘work scene’. You’re not just a model today, you’ll also be helping out a bit in the spa. The guests love that sort of thing.”

He pressed a small test kit into my hand.

“You’ll be measuring the water quality in the main pool. It’s a perfectly normal task here. You’ll need to get down on your knees, bend over low and take the sample straight from the bottom of the pool. It’s simple.”

I nodded. “Okay, that sounds doable. ”

We went to the large infinity pool. About 50 men were standing or sitting all around it – a real men’s day out. Many were wearing the red fan glasses. Jan positioned me at the shallow end.

“Get down on your knees, bend down low, take the sample from the bottom. And smile while you’re doing it, of course.”

I knelt on the warm stone edge of the pool. The red bikini bottoms were digging in a bit. I leaned far forward, stretched my arm deep into the water and tried to reach the small test tube from the bottom of the pool. My upper body went down low, my bum pushed upwards and tensed up extremely.

The thin red fabric of the bikini bottoms stretched tight over my bum and between my legs. I could feel it cutting deep into the cleft.

Jan was taking photos from the side and from behind.

“Perfect! Even deeper, Lisa. And smile at the guests.”

Next to me, a handsome man in a bathrobe was posing with his thumb raised and grinning at the camera – as if he were praising me for my “good work”.

I smiled back, still bent over deeply, my arm in the water. My bottom was stretched to the limit, my buttocks pulled apart by the position. The bikini fabric was tight between my labia.

It felt a bit embarrassing to me, but still within limits. “It’s just work,” I thought. “The guests probably find it funny.”

What I didn’t know:

Through the men’s rose-tinted glasses, the scene looked completely different.

They saw a completely naked Lisa, kneeling on all fours at the edge of the pool, her upper body bent low, her arse held high and spread wide. Her bare bottom was wide open, her little pink arsehole clearly visible, and beneath it her glistening, slightly swollen pussy. The inner labia were slightly pulled apart by the **** stretching, the clitoris was visible. A tiny clear drop of her arousal hung between her legs.

The man next to her was posing with his thumb up – it looked as though a naked woman was bowing deeply before him, presenting her open arse and dripping cunt to him, whilst he stood contentedly beside her.

Jan took close-ups from behind. Every fold of skin, every subtle movement of my labia, the slight twitch of my arsehole from the strain – everything was crystal clear.

I slowly straightened up again, the test tube in my hand, and smiled innocently at the camera.

“Well? How’s the water quality?” I asked cheerfully.

The men in red glasses applauded loudly and whistled. Many took photos.

For me, it was a slightly embarrassing but harmless work pose.

For them, it was one of the most erotic and humiliating poses they had ever seen: a naked young woman bending low before them and showing them everything.

Jan nodded with satisfaction.

“Very good. That’s got a lot more story behind it. Keep it up.”

I wiped my hands and felt my face flush.

I was sure it had just been a normal pose.

The men with the red glasses knew better.