Jason had his mansion built atop an old grove with a natural spring, and he directed his builders to incorporate the spring into his swimming pool.
It was on his first night alone in the house, after the builders had gone, that she appeared to him.
She was beautiful, nude, radiant, standing in the water at the centre of his pool, her arms covering her breasts in a way that was both coy and powerful.
“I am the Nymph of the Spring,” she declared, “a spirit of womankind’s power, fertility and freedom.” She looked at him angrily. “Why have you desecrated my spring?”
He looked at her with curiosity. “Why don’t you come out of the water and we’ll talk?”
She frowned, with what Jason imagined was supposed to be baleful fury but to him looked more like an adorably sullen pout.
“I cannot leave my spring,” she said. “Once, it flowed to the base of this hill, but you’ve caged it with this… stone monstrosity of a house.”
“So you’re stuck in my swimming pool?” Jason laughed. “Sounds more like you’re the Nymph of the Pool now.”
“How dare you!” she raged. “Tear down this house this instant!”
Jason said nothing, just stared at her tits, and opened another beer.
Her expression softened, becoming insecure. Her eyes flicked to the garden hose lying some distance away on the bricks.
“Then… would you feed water into the pool? I am a spirit of moving waters, and every moment that I do not feel new liquid pass over and through me is like torture…”
Jason said nothing.
“Please?” the nymph begged, finally.
Jason got up and moved his deck chair to sit right on the edge of the pool. He looked at her. “Take your hands away from your tits and let me see them.”
She blushed, paused – then slowly shifted her hands, revealing a pair of supernaturally perfect rounded fuckbags.
“Good girl,” said Jason. “Now spread your pussy. I want to see what a nymph’s rapehole looks like.”
The nymph’s face coloured further, with rage and humiliation, at Jason’s language… but after a couple of moments, she lowered her hands, spread her legs, and parted her pussy. Her cunt rested just above the surface of the water, and Jason watched the water gently lap at her revealed pink cuntmeat.
“I’m pleased to see even a spirit of female power knows how to be an obedient slut,” he said, after staring at her pussy for long minutes. He reached down, and extracted his dick from his pants.
“I’m not giving you that hose,” he told her. “But I reckon if you’re very talented with your mouth, you can get my cock to make a little white liquid flow over and through you. And you’d better be talented, because that’s all you’re getting – today, and any other day that I feel like letting you be my whore.”
She looked at him, horrified.
He patted the chair next to him, as if calling a dog. “Come here, bitch,” he said. “If you’re a spirit of female empowerment, I reckon you’d better empower yourself to be an obedient little cocksucker, or it’s going to get mighty dry in that pool.”
“No!” she cried, tears forming in the corners of her perfect nymphly eyes.
He frowned. “Price has gone up now, bitch. Now I’ll only let you suck my cock if you first say, ‘Please, sir, let this stupid female bitch worship your cock with her dumb whore mouth.’”
He closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair, and waited. Long minutes passed.
Then he heard the splashing of water approaching, and a beautiful, broken voice said, “Please, sir, let this stupid female bitch” – a choked sob – “worship your cock with her dumb whore mouth.”
He smiled, and nodded, eyes still closed, and a moment later he felt her surprisingly warm lips on his cock, and her tongue on the tip of his dick, and then almost immediately her first salty tears of misery drip onto his lower belly, and he knew that this house, expensive as it had been, had *absolutely* been worth it…
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