New Author presents, Duncan's Summer Job

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Hi Everyone

   The Wednesday round up will return, I have so much new stuff in my  in tray featuring some of our favorite stars in leather and Vinyl, I am sure lots of us grew up watching Denise van Outan whist having our breakfast.

   However today, I want to give you a first time author's neat and fun story, unconnected to the world of Andy and Aunt Jane, but none the less fun and very well presented .

   This is Duncan’s Summer Job, by Pirata.

XXX

Andy

   

Duncan’s Summer Job – Part 1

By 

Pirata

Our story starts with a crash – the unmistakable sound of broken glass.

Duncan and his friend Rob had been strolling around the neighbourhoods near where they lived. The summer before their last year of school stretched out in front of them, and as they kicked a football back and forth, they tossed around their plans for spending it.  But an enthusiastic kick from Rob had sent the ball over the back wall of a large house. And as the boys watched it disappear out of sight, they heard the crashing sound and felt their stomachs sink.

“Oh shit,” said Rob “You have to go get it.”

“Why do I have to get it?” said Duncan indignantly “You kicked it.”

“Because I think I know the woman who lives there. She’s a friend of my aunt. If she sees me, she’ll recognise me.” 

Rob was using the whining tone he always used when he needed Duncan to get him out of trouble. Best friends since they were kids, the boys did everything together. Even though they were around the same age, Duncan often took on the role of a “big brother” looking out for his mate. Sometimes Rob resented this, other times, like now, he exploited it.  

“C’mon,” he pleaded.

Duncan sighed and crossed over to the house. It was a large red brick house sitting on its own at the corner of the street. That made it easy for Duncan to run around the corner to the wall of the back garden and scrabble up without being seen. He climbed up just enough that he could peep over into the garden and look around. Across a wide expanse of lawn he could see an old fashioned conservatory. Its glass roof was smashed where the ball had broken through. There was no one in sight so he hauled himself over and, after taking another look around from the cover of the bushes, ran across the lawn towards the house.

There was no way to reach the ball without going inside the house. Duncan swallowed hard and felt the hairs on his arm prickle with nervous energy as he tried the door handle. It was unlocked. He opened it a crack and listened. He heard nothing except the pounding from deep in his chest. He’d never done anything like this before. He took a deep breath and, with the house quiet, he went inside.

He felt the rush of warm air in the conservatory and took a moment to get his bearings. He took in the modern furniture and expensive looking art. Whoever lived here clearly had money. 

The ball lay in a mess of broken glass and the shattered remains of a potted plant it had knocked over on its descent. Glass crunching under his runners, he bent down to pick it up.

“How dare you?!”

Caught!

“What are you doing in my house? Do you know how much that vase cost?”

A handsome middle-aged woman stood looking at him. She must have been waiting out of sight behind the door to the next room. She showed no signs of alarm at this intruder. With an air of complete self-control in a white blouse and crisp cotton slacks, she regarded Duncan imperiously. He felt a wave of panic spread over him. He could feel it start in the pit of his stomach and explode out to his limbs and head.

“You’ll have to pay…” she began.

“Fuck you!” he heard himself blurt out and he turned and sprinted back across the garden.

Miss Andrews watched the fleeing boy with a raised eyebrow. Then she swiftly turned and walked through to the living room at the front of the house. From the window she caught sight of two boys running down the street. She uttered a little hum of surprise and recognition. Calmy, she picked up her phone.

“Hello Jane?… Oh yes, very well thank you… Well I’m really ringing about your nephew… Yes, I’m trying to track down one of his friends…”

***

A day or so later Duncan was in his room, sprawled on his bed with his hand down the front of his tracksuit bottoms, absorbed in his phone. He was dividing his attention between messaging his girlfriend Kelly and browsing football boots online, so he barely registered the ringing of the doorbell or the subsequent conversation downstairs. 

“Duncan!” It was his sister, Ellen, calling him from outside his bedroom door.

“Wha’?”

“Can you not hear? Mam’s calling you downstairs!”

“Fuck’s sake...” he grumbled as he got up. 

His sister said something as he brushed past her, but he didn’t listen. She’d really been bugging him recently. Walking sullenly downstairs he stopped dead when he entered the living room. There she was, the woman from the other day. She was sitting in his house talking to his parents. As he stood in the doorway, rooted to the spot, she looked at him coolly. Her attitude was one of calm control, and she deferred to her hostess to break the ice.

“Duncan,” said his mam, using the tone she always used when she was trying to keep her temper, “Sit down. This is Miss Andrews. She’s just been telling us what you did.” And in the same icy tone she told the tale Miss Andrews had told her. A tale of vandalism, trespassing, and breaking and entering.

Duncan’s dad bristled with rage. He didn’t even look at Duncan as he rushed to reassure the visitor:

“We’re very sorry about all this. I can tell you, he will pay for any damage...” 

“Thank you,” she said, cutting him off in mid flow “That is exactly what I had in mind.”

Miss Andrews’ gentle, reasonable voice seemed to settle Duncan’s dad, who sat in silence while Duncan watched, still in a state of shock. Miss Andrews held the silence for a moment and slowly regarded the three people before her. Duncan could feel his nervousness writhing in the small of his back. What did she mean? How could he pay? Would he have to sell his stuff? Give up his summer to work for his dad? Or was she going to call the Guards? What was it his mam had said? Breaking and entering? She watched him, sensing his discomfort and smiling to herself. Then she spoke:

“I don’t want to involve the police” she said, “although the cost of the damage was significant. Instead I propose a summer job. Duncan will work for me for a month. I will pay him a fair wage, but first he will have to work off the damage done to my property. Any further breakages will, of course, extend the contract.”

As she was speaking she had taken a neatly folded contract out of her handbag and laid it on the table alongside an expensive fountain pen.

“Well thank you Miss Andrews,” said Duncan’s mam, “I think that’s an excellent proposal.”

Duncan couldn’t believe it. This was so unfair. He was going to have to work. For free. For this wagon. He was losing a month of his summer and he was supposed to be grateful. But while all this went through his mind, he pictured himself sitting in the back of a police car, or trying to pay off thousands of euros of damage with money that he didn’t have. 

“You better fucking sign that, lad,” his dad growled under his breath.

***

Duncan was in no mood to start work the next day. His parents had read him the riot act after Miss Andrews had left. Being told that he should be grateful to her for not calling the Gardai only made him resent the whole situation more. Walking up the drive after football practice, he aimed a dejected kick at the wheel of the Jaguar parked there. He was supposed to be hanging out with Kelly today and had to cancel. He didn’t tell her why, she would have only started giving out. By the time he rang the doorbell he had already convinced himself that he had done nothing wrong. It was Rob who had kicked the ball in the first place wasn’t it? He swore this was the last time he’d help that little pox out of trouble.

Miss Andrews on the other hand seemed quite cheerful when she opened the door: “Good morning Duncan. Can I offer you a cup of tea before you start?”

“No thanks,” he replied, sulking.

“Very well. I’d like you to start work in the garden please.”

She led him though the house and into the garden. At the shed, she showed him everything he needed for the day’s tasks. He spent the next three hours cutting back ivy and mowing the lawn. It was a very large garden and the sun was climbing as he pushed the mower around. It was sweltering work and he took off his T-shirt to let the air cool his chest. Standing in her kitchen, Miss Andrews watched the lad at work and smiled to herself. The worse his attitude was, the more she knew he deserved what was coming, and the more cocksure and arrogant he seemed, the more she relished the challenge ahead.

Duncan was aware, and proudly so, that he was developing into a very attractive young man. Slim and tall for his age (already over six foot), a variety of sporting activities had given him a smooth, tight body. In their private time together Kelly loved to run her fingers over his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he even thought he saw Miss Andrews watching him from the house. He let his mind wander: She might be a wagon, but she wasn’t bad looking for an aul wan. He’d seen enough TV to know how often rich women were seduced by their hunky gardeners - who knows what might happen?

By lunchtime he had finished and Miss Andrews called him back to the house. Following her instructions to remove his shoes before entering, he stepped into the kitchen. He wondered why she was holding a measuring tape.

“Thank you Duncan,” she said “You can have the rest of today off. But before you go, I’d like to measure you for some work clothes. Could you turn around please?”

Duncan was taken aback. Work clothes? What was this? 

Seeing the look of confusion on his face Miss Andrews said “Yes. Look at the mess you’ve made of your clothes today. As you’re working for me for a month, I’ll provide you with work clothes. Now please turn around.”

Rolling his eyes, he compiled, but when he felt a fingernail casually brush the sensitive skin above his waist his heart leapt. His mind raced back to the teenage fantasies he’d been indulging in moments before. As his skin was caressed by the soft sliding of the measuring tape to his horror he felt his dick start to throb.

Oh fuck, no! Not this. Not now! He started to panic. His face flushed a deep hot red.

“There. Finished,” said Miss Andrews. His head spinning, Duncan started to stammer.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she promptly interrupted him. “I can’t believe you’re shy – after all, you’re the one who didn’t put his T-shirt back on”

Duncan awkwardly wrestled himself back into his T-Shirt. He didn’t dare turn around for fear she’d see the erection straining against his tracksuit, so he mumbled something over his shoulder and left.

Had he been in less of a state he might have wondered what type of work clothes needed measurements from his chest, waist and hips.

***

“How was work?” asked his mam from the kitchen when Duncan opened the door.

“Fine,” he blurted as he raced upstairs to his room…

***

The contract Duncan had signed stated his workdays were three full days on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and a half day on Saturday afternoon. That gave him a couple of days off before he next had to be at Miss Andrews’ house and he spent them hanging out with Rob and Kelly. As usual, after a short argument over Duncan taking the blame for Rob, the two lads were joking around like they’d done every day since they were kids. Making it up to Kelly for cancelling their Saturday plans was a bit harder and he had to spend a tedious Sunday afternoon helping her apply for summer jobs. But she “rewarded” him that night with a handjob, but all the while he was still fantasising about the encounter with the measuring tape. In fact, Miss Andrews featured in more than a few of his frenetic fumbles in the privacy of his room.

His thoughts were going a mile a minute therefore as he walked to Miss Andrews’ house on Tuesday morning. He grinned awkwardly at her when she opened the door and this time gladly accepted her offer of a cup of tea. But he was aware of a little disappointment when she didn’t have a cup with him, or when she moved swiftly to business when he had finished. Miss Andrews noted the improvement in Duncan’s attitude. And although she knew well what was behind it, it entertained her and so she encouraged it with an extra note of friendliness to her tone.

Bringing him back to the garden, Miss Andrews explained the morning’s task to him: “I’m afraid this plant has gotten a little out of control. It needs to be fully cut back before any new growth can begin”.

It was back breaking work. He had to cut the outer branches with shears before getting on his hands and knees to saw at the thicker inner trunks. He was sweating and his tracksuit bottoms were stained with grass and mud before he finished. It wasn’t quite as hot as the last day, yet he still took his T-Shirt off while checking over his shoulder to see if Miss Andrews was watching.

When he had finished and the cut branches were transferred to a wheelbarrow, Miss Andrews called him back to the house. As before, he kicked off his runners before entering the kitchen, where she gave him a glass of water.

“I’d like you to work in the house this afternoon. But not in those muddy clothes. Take them off and I’ll put them in the wash. I’ll leave your new work clothes on the bed in my room while you have a shower.”

Duncan spluttered into his glass of water. He couldn’t believe it. His weekend fantasies were coming true!

Scarcely believing his luck he stepped out of his tracksuit bottoms. Although he still instinctively clutched his hands to his crotch to hide his already growing package. Wearing only his boxers and ankle socks he allowed Miss Andrews to lead him through the house to her bedroom. His heart was beating so fast it was making his head spin. He barely paid attention while Miss Andrews showed him where the towels were kept and where she would leave his work clothes. Then she left him alone. In her bedroom.

He took a deep breath and slid off his boxers and socks. He stood naked in the room feeling the rich carpet under his feet. He took several more deep breaths and let the moment settle in his mind. He couldn’t believe this was happening. His semi erect dick hung heavily, begging for attention. He had to stop himself from jerking off there and then. Hastily he grabbed a towel and ran to the en suite. He didn’t know how long he took in the shower, but as he let the water run over his tight body, he couldn’t stop himself from stroking his now fully erect dick. He was more than a little embarrassed to be taking a shower in a strange woman’s house, but that seemed to just add to his excitement. It was a new sensation for him and he explored it eagerly. He looked down at his cock. He’d seen enough from surreptitious internet searches to know it wasn’t the biggest, but he thought it was a decent size. Not huge, but nothing to be ashamed of either. Feeling pleased with himself he gave it a few more playful strokes. He stepped out of the shower and stood before the bathroom mirror. He wanted to see himself, standing naked in this woman’s house. He ran his hands up and down his body the way Kelly liked to, watching himself. Again that buzz of excitement from doing what he knew he shouldn’t. He had to stop himself reaching down to finish off. Plenty of time for that later.

Wrapped in a towel, and leaving wet footprints on the carpet, he stepped back into the bedroom. He fantasized that Miss Andrews had left nothing for him on the bed and he could stride naked downstairs to her. What he actually saw on the bed looked a lot like a corny French maid’s uniform.

“Very funny.”

He stepped out of the bedroom onto the upstairs landing, the towel still around his waist, water beading on his shoulders. Again the feeling of carpet under his bare feet gave him a thrill. But the excitement was making his heart start to race. 

“Hey?” he called out. And he squirmed to hear a quiver in his voice. “Where are my clothes?” 

No answer.

“Hello?” he called again.

Still no answer. 

Starting to shake a bit now, from nerves as well as the chill, he went downstairs. Walking past the front door, he realised he had become increasingly aware of his nakedness and his earlier excitement was giving way to embarrassment. He made his way back to the kitchen where he found Miss Andrews waiting.

“All right love, where are me clothes?” he said, trying to recapture as much virile swagger as he could under her cold stare.

Miss Andrews couldn’t believe her eyes. She was almost impressed at this show of brazenness and might have burst out laughing if she didn’t know that it needed a strong response. 

“How dare you!? After breaking into my home and damaging my property! The last thing you should want to do now is ruin my carpets with your wet footprints. And how dare you present yourself to me in this state!”

In two quick steps she strode up to him and whipped away the towel. The last shred of his confidence swept away by her imperious fury, he immediately reached down to hide his shame. She continued on. Her voice raised to a near shout. The words coming fast and sharp.

“You are bound to me by contract young man! A contract you signed! Not to mention I could still call the Guards. I explained to you what you are to wear. I provided it. Now you will wear that or you will go home naked and hear from my lawyers.”

Half crouched and covering his nakedness with both hands, Duncan lingered momentarily at the door, before backing away. His confidence finally deserting him he turned and ran up the stairs, stumbling once or twice as he went.

Closing the bedroom door behind him he tried to catch his breath. What had just happened? He surveyed the items on the bed with a growing sense of doom. It was a black maid’s uniform, like something a porn actress would wear in a fetish video. Lying beside it were a pair of pink panties with a delicate white lace trim. And on the floor were a pair of flat open-toed sandals with black pom poms on the straps. He looked away. His heart was still pounding from his race upstairs. What could he do? He had signed a contract. Did you go to court for breach of contract? Could you be sued? What would that cost? Thousands? More? Would his family have to pay? And what about the Guards? If she pressed charges would he be arrested? Would he go to jail?

Swallowing heavily and with his hands shaking, Duncan picked up the uniform and pulled it over his head. He felt the soft material slide over his naked body. It seemed to be pinching in at the waist, and certainly it wasn’t very comfortable. There were no sleeves and the straps just about covered his shoulders in black ruffles. It had a low-cut neck that would have looked amazing on a porn actress, but on his chest it just sat there neatly above his nipples. The whole thing was finished off with a tiny white apron and while frills around the hem of the skirt and neckline.

He stepped into the sandals and found they were quite comfortable, which was a small mercy. Looking at the panties he inhaled sharply. Reaching out for them his hand clenched into a fist. No! This was bad enough. She told him to wear the uniform, he was wearing the uniform. There was no way he was gonna wear girls’ knickers as well. Taking a deep breath and never feeling more embarrassed in his life, he slowly went downstairs.

When Miss Andrews saw Duncan walk back into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but giggle. The boy looked absurd, but nevertheless she was delighted. She congratulated herself on how much progress she had made in less than two days with this impertinent lad who had vandalised her property. But she also knew that she needed to press home her advantage. She had to be sure he would return tomorrow and for that she needed to truly assert her dominance. But push too hard and he might try to break free altogether. What was needed now was gentle but firm pressure. The iron hand in the velvet glove. 

She stifled her giggle and apologised to the mortified teenage boy, whose face had gone a deep red. 

“My dear you look absolutely lovely,” she said “I have just the thing to finish it off. Come here please.”

His eyes cast down, Duncan walked to where Miss Andrews stood. He shivered slightly but otherwise didn’t move as she gently fastened a delicate black lace choker around his neck and affixed a tiny white frilly cap to his hair.

“Now,” she said, “much better. Come with me to the mirror and you can see how darling you look.”

When he saw his reflection in the mirror for the second time that day, Duncan nearly cried. He looked and felt ridiculous. He could see now exactly how the uniform’s short skirt exposed almost the whole length of his long, toned legs. In a gentle, soothing voice Miss Andrew’s assured the quivering lad that this would be their secret and she even offered him some tea as a peace offering.

“No thanks,” murmured Duncan, “I’d just like to get this over with.”

But as he started the housework that Miss Andrews had tasked him with, he very soon realised his mistake in not wearing the panties. The skirt was so short that every movement threatened to expose his bare arse or the tip of his flaccid penis. Miss Andrews had also noticed Duncan’s predicament. Again she found herself almost approving at this little attempt at defiance. She decided to let matters play out and see what developed.

Sure enough, after twenty minutes of constant, futile pulling at the hem of his skirt Duncan asked:

“Can I not wear some underpants?”

Miss Andrews raised an eyebrow. Now he would learn the cost of defiance: “No, you may not,” she said. “I gave you some panties to wear and you refused to do so. If you have changed your mind you must ask for them nicely. Say ‘please can I wear my panties.’”

“Never mind,” he said sullenly and went back to his chores.

But Duncan found that his chores seemed almost specifically designed to deepen his humiliation. Bending over to wipe a table exposed his bum to the room, reaching up to dust a high shelf would cause the skirt to rise exposing his penis, and kneeling on the floor to clean the fireplace was an agony of humiliation. To make matters worse the air blowing around his balls and the constant gentle motion of the skirt against his dick was making him hard. He couldn’t help it; he’d been craving release since his moment of pleasure in the shower. Now he burned with shame at the thought that not only was he dressed as a French maid but anyone looking would think he was turned on by it. He couldn’t take it anymore. Sheepishly holding down the front of his skirt he approached Miss Andrews. 

Miss Andrews braced herself. This was the moment she lived for. His will was broken, and he realised just how far he was under her control. He had realised what would happen when he defied her and now he would come begging for mercy. The warm rush of satisfaction coursed through every part of her body.

Duncan couldn’t look at her and kept his eyes towards the floor. Quietly he said:

“Please Miss, can I wear my panties”

***