Duncan's Summer Job. Part 2

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Hi Everyone

   Bit of a simple Wednesday post this week, but no less thrilling, because I have the pleasure to bring you the second part of our friend Pirata's wonderful story, Duncan's Summer Job.

But first. This Re Face thing has really thrown up a couple of amazing moments,because,when you put the right image in,the results are staggering.

  I might as well have post a passport photo......well not really, after all these were created using the digital Andy/Keira blend I showed the other day and also Aunt Jane's Andy.

I shared these with my dear and beloved friends in Lyon yesterday and to say Gi, the mastermind behind all my looks, was amazed would be an severe understatement LOL .  

Anyway enough of my ego for now, let's get to the main event,so big hugs and please all stay safe

XX

Andy

Duncan’s Summer Job
by 
Pirata

Part 2: A Choice

“How was work?” asked Ellen when Duncan walked in the front door.

“Yeah, fine.”

“All right, don’t tell me. Jesus.”

Ellen sighed to herself and watched her brother stomp upstairs. He was only a year older than her, and usually they got on well, but recently he’d become such an arsehole to her.

***

Sitting on his bed, Duncan tried to get his head around what had happened to him that day. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the image that Miss Andrews had shown him in the mirror. He shuddered as he remembered asking to wear panties. Had he really done that? And had he really felt grateful when he was allowed? That was the most disturbing memory of all.

Suddenly he realised he was getting hard. His balls felt heavy, still needing release from all the teasing he had given them that day. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up one of his favourite models on Instagram. She had just uploaded her latest lingerie shoot. Duncan flicked through the images and started stroking his cock. It didn’t take long, but just as he was starting to get close, the words came back to him “Please miss can I wear my panties”.

“Ah fuck!”

It was no use. He couldn’t get off with his head so messed up.

Just then his phone went off in his hand. It was a message from Rob: “hey bud how was work”. Duncan threw his phone across the room and flung himself back on his bed.

In the kitchen, Ellen heard the bang from the room above and rolled her eyes.

“Such an arsehole.”

***

The next morning, he woke to throbbing morning wood. An energetic wank in the shower finally brought the release he craved. The feeling was so intense he couldn’t help but cry out loud. After that he started to feel a bit more like his old self. He even tried to convince himself that the whole thing was a joke. A once-off thing to teach him a lesson. If he just apologised to Miss Andrews, he’d be back working in the garden today. Or maybe she might let him off work altogether. But the growing knot in his stomach as he walked to the house told him otherwise. Getting more nervous with each step, he thought about running off. He could hide out for the day and lie to his parents when he got home. But he knew it wouldn’t work, Miss Andrews would just call to his house again. And his mind raced through all the consequences he’d then be facing. He made a mental note to google: “What happens if you get sued for breach of contract?” as he walked through the gate to her house. 

His sense of foreboding was justified when Miss Andrews, opening the door, directed him back upstairs to her room where “everything was laid out”. This time he didn’t strip fully naked before putting on the dreaded uniform. He was frightened now of being in such a vulnerable state in Miss Andrews’ house. So he kicked off his runners and slid out of his jeans and boxers. He quickly grabbed for the panties and pulled them on.

As they slid up his legs, a shiver like an electric shock ran through his body. There was a lump in his throat and the knot in his stomach grew tighter. Worse yet, he felt an undeniable sense of pleasure as the delicate material softly enveloped his private parts. Horrified he realised he was getting hard again. The same thing had happened yesterday when, burning with shame, he put the panties on in front of Miss Andrews. He knew it was purely a physical reaction, but that didn’t make it any less mortifying. As a young lad he’d spent the past few years gleefully exploring his body. His dick was like his best friend. How could it betray him in this way? Desperately trying not to linger on these sensations he whipped off his T-Shirt and pulled the uniform on over his head.

Meanwhile, Miss Andrews patiently waited downstairs. She had been confident Duncan would return today, but there had been just enough doubt to give her an enjoyable thrill of anticipation and sweet satisfaction when she saw him walk up the drive. Now that she knew she had him, she was going to enjoy her time with him as much as possible. When the boy sheepishly entered the living room in his uniform, she felt again the thrill of ecstasy at his humiliation. She had to take a moment to compose herself before she brought his attention to a pair of high heeled shoes on the coffee table. They were new, black, with two-inch heels, and they were in his size. She was sure she heard him groan.

“I want you to try these Duncan,” she said. “The sandals are fine, but they aren’t really the elegant style I expect a maid of mine to wear.”

“OK,” was all the reply she got.

“Duncan, while you are in my employ you will conduct yourself appropriately and professionally. That attitude will not be accepted. I will expect you to use “Yes, Miss” and “No, Miss”. Is that clear?”

Something in her voice seemed to bring back to Duncan the memory of every schoolteacher he’d ever had. Cowed, he said “Yes, Miss.”

“That’s better. Now try these on please.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Duncan stepped out of the sandals and walked over to the coffee table. He picked up one of the shoes and put it on. It didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it looked. But with one shoe on, there was no way he could keep his balance to put on the second. He needed to sit down on the sofa to manage it. Then, when he tried to stand up, he had to flap his arms to stop himself falling face first onto the table. Miss Andrews could barely contain her amusement as she watched this performance. This moment would be preserved in the vaults of her memory to be enjoyed again later.

Duncan took his first teetering steps and nearly fell over himself again.

“Ah Miss, this is impossible,” he said, like a schoolchild given a difficult maths problem.

“You’ll need to practice, my dear. It is hard, I know, but in time you’ll learn. You may continue to use the sandals for now. But I recommend you practice every day until you master walking in heels.”

Duncan didn’t particularly want to master walking in heels, but he kept that thought to himself.

“For today’s task I want you to wash and iron the clothes in the laundry hamper upstairs. I’ll be working in my home office all day and I’d like a sandwich at lunch time. After that you will hoover all the upstairs rooms. Then you can go home.”

Duncan remembered to say “Yes, Miss” before wobbling out of the room. He had barely gone six steps before his calf muscles started to ache. Walking upstairs he needed to grip the banister tightly with both hands to avoid an accident. He made very unsteady progress to the laundry hamper which stood on the upstairs landing. It took him several attempts to figure out the best way to reach down into the basket without falling into it. His arms now heaped with laundry he managed about two steps before his ankle finally gave way. He toppled forward onto his face spilling the laundry all over the floor. Cursing under his breath he tore the shoes off his feet. Even after only a few minutes wearing them, the sense of relief taking them off was incredible. Working in these really would be impossible. Barefooted he put the shoes in the bedroom and returned to gather up the laundry. Back downstairs, he detoured to slip back into the sandals. Then he stopped and cringed. He’d walked right past his runners and hadn’t even thought about putting them on. Even while Miss Andrews wasn’t looking, he didn’t dare.

The washing machine in Miss Andrews’ utility room was an incomprehensible display of knobs and buttons. At home his mam did all his laundry for him. So he had to go back upstairs to get his phone to google: “how do you work a washing machine”. He didn’t know how much time he spent on his hands and knees sorting through the pile of laundry, looking up the mysterious symbols on the labels. When he finally had the machine running he realised it was nearly lunchtime.

Miss Andrews had wanted a sandwich, but as he careened around the kitchen trying to find where everything was kept, he realised she didn’t seem to have any sliced pan. He cut two uneven slices from a loaf on the counter and started to butter them. But the butter wouldn’t spread properly. It was still hard from the fridge and stuck to the bread in lumps. Starting to panic now he found what he thought was sliced ham and pressed it between the slices of bread. He had just put in on the table with a glass of tap water as Miss Andrews entered the kitchen.

She looked at her imported prosciutto squashed between two doorstep slices of bread and declared herself unimpressed.

“Really Duncan this is a very feeble effort. We’ll let it pass for today, but I need to see an improvement tomorrow. You may need to start practising your skills at home, is that OK?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Good. I’ll prepare something myself. You attend to your other tasks.”

“Yes, Miss,” Duncan said dejectedly and he turned to leave.

 “Oh Duncan, remember what we said about attitude? Well you really should curtsey when you leave the room.”

“Wha’?! Eh, I mean… eh… yes, Miss.”

Quietly seething at this latest indignity, he crouched down in what he remembered from Disney films he saw as a child. Miss Andrews was delighted. That momentary flash of defiance was what she was looking for. She wanted to keep the pressure on, to keep him always on the edge of rebelling, but always surrendering until the day came when he would realise just how much he was under her power.

“Yes, well,” she said “I see your curtseys will need to improve too. You may go now.”

Duncan’s search history for the afternoon opened up a whole new world for him. Along with “how do you work a washing machine” was added “are tights delicates”, “how do you iron a skirt” and now “how do you curtsey properly”.

The hoovering, at least, was a bit more straightforward, but he soon realised that created its own problems. While he had been focused on the more complex tasks of the morning, his treacherous penis had stayed soft in his silk panties. But now, without the distraction of work, he became more aware of the feeling of the delicate material and the growing bulge beneath his skirt. Embarrassment opened up a pit in his stomach. He also knew that he should be practising in the heels, but that would just make the whole ordeal slower and having spent almost an entire day dressed as a girl he really didn’t want it to go on any longer than necessary. Besides, he had boxing on Wednesday evenings and he didn’t want to be late. “Jesus,” he thought “imagine if the lads at the club could see me now.” And he shuddered.

***

“I’m finished Miss”

“Thank you, Duncan. You may go.”

And mimicking what he had seen in a YouTube video, Duncan placed one foot in front of the other, held the sides of his skirt with finger and thumb, and inclined forwards in an almost graceful curtsey. Then he ran upstairs to get changed.

***

“What’s the matter with you, Duncan?”

“Sorry Coach, I’m just distracted.”

“Well focus!”

“Duncan’s asleep Coach!”

“Shup Anto!”

And Duncan started laying into the other lad, working out a day’s worth of anger and humiliation.

***

“Well Duncan, you’ve finished your first week with me. How do you feel?”

“Fine, I guess,” he answered, in a tone that said he was anything but.

“You should be proud. You’ve improved a lot in three days. Lunch today was much better than yesterday’s.”

“Thanks, Miss.”

Google: how do you make an omelette.

Miss Andrews continued “But when it comes to reviewing your performance there are still areas where improvement is needed. Your dusting is very patchy, and you need to take special care when laundering my clothes. They are of a very high quality and are easily damaged if not cared for correctly. And need I remind you that the cost of any damages will extend the length of your contract?”

“I know, Miss,” the thought was rarely far from his mind.

“And I can’t help but notice that you’ve been wearing the same panties for three days. That really isn’t good enough.”

“But… they’re the panties you gave me, Miss.”

“I would have thought a lad your age was old enough to buy his own panties.”

“I’m not… I don’t buy panties Miss.”

“Well now you can start.”

Duncan was horrified. There was no way he was going to go into a shop and buy panties in public. If someone saw him…! 

“I don’t want to, Miss,” he said, not daring to meet her gaze. 

“Very well. It’s up to you. But you cannot keep wearing the same pair all the time. If you won’t buy them, I shall buy them for you. But if I buy them then I shall select them, and the cost will likely add another week to your contract. Not only that but I will expect you to maintain standards of grooming and hygiene to avoid them getting spoiled. But as I said, the choice is yours.”

Duncan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What could he do? He didn’t want to add one day to his contract let alone a whole week. And what did she mean by grooming? But did the alternative really mean buying panties in public? Could he do that? Did he dare ask Kelly or Ellen for help? Unless...

“Well?” asked Miss Andrews.

***