The return of Duncan's Summer Job

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Hi everyone

  Mid week already, get passed today and it's all down hill to the weekend and to help you aver that midweek hump we have the return of the wonderful Pirata's brilliant story "Duncan's Summer Job"

  Here we have chapter Three and I am sure we all hope chapter 4 and 5 and 6 and.........ok no pressure Pirata, but you get the drift. (I got that trick used on me by Queenofmy, LOL).

 After that, it being Wednesday, we also have a few of my favourite mini clips, featuring long legs,shiny bottoms and killer heels.

  My best wishes to you all

Big Hugs

XXX

 Andy

Over to you Pirata

https://smoothslicknshiny.blogspot.com/2020/11/new-author-presents-duncans-summer-job.html

https://smoothslicknshiny.blogspot.com/2020/12/duncans-summer-job-part-2.html

Duncan’s Summer Job 

Part 3: A Plan

by

Pirata

“All right,” he said, “I’ll buy them.”

 “Very good,” she replied, “I’d recommend you buy six pairs, so you can have one set to wear and one in the wash each week, but that’s up to you. There’s a wide variety of colours and styles available, you may find bikini briefs most comfortable…”

Duncan wasn’t listening. As Miss Andrews spoke, he was busy formulating a plan. He could see what she was trying to do. She was trying to get him to choose between two bad options, either he buy panties or he work for her another week. But he saw a way out of it. Between his sister and his girlfriend he could just steal what he needed. All he had to do was take a pair or two each week and replace them. With only three weeks left he felt sure he could get away with it. He was turning all this over in his mind while Miss Andrews spoke and he left her house feeling pleased with himself for outsmarting her. 

***

When he got home that evening he decided to put his plan into action straightaway. It was Thursday and his next day back at work was Saturday, so he had no time to waste. As soon as dinner was over he rushed upstairs to Ellen’s room. She was still talking to their parents about her plans for the summer so he had a little time before she came up. 

Looking around the room, he realised he didn’t actually know where she kept her panties. There was a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. He figured the chest of drawers was the best bet. But after a quick search he came away empty handed so he turned to the wardrobe. Opening it he saw that it’s lower portions also contained a series of drawers. He had hit the jackpot. The first drawer contained a befuddling array of silky, delicate underthings. He dove his hand in to grab a few pairs, but immediately whipped it away when his fingers encountered something hard and cylindrical that was hidden beneath the folds of material. 

Ah, that’s gross! He shuddered to himself. 

“What are you doing in my room!?”

Duncan spun round to see Ellen, her face red with indignation. 

“I’m looking for me phone charger,” Duncan was thrilled with spur of the moment improvisation, “You’re always stealing it!”

“Well it’s not in my wardrobe is it, ya weirdo!”

“I wouldn’t know where you’d hide it…”

Two minutes later the siblings had descended into a screaming match and his dad had to come upstairs to separate them. Duncan was sent downstairs while his sister sulked in her room for the rest of the evening.

***

The next morning Duncan was already at work on Plan B. He was due to spend the day with Rob and then meet Kelly that evening and there was no chance of Ellen leaving her room before he went out. She always avoided him when she was upset with him. So he texted his girlfriend:

“What do you wanna do tonight”

“I don’t mind. What do you want to do?”

“Wanna just chill at your place?”

“My parents will be home…”

This would normally have been a clear signal. Kelly’s parents were strict with their only daughter and their presence would seriously curtail the activities of two young lovebirds. 

“That’s OK. I can still come over.”

“Can we not go out???”

“I don’t wanna go out tonight.”

“Fine. Come here then, if that’s what you want.”

“Great. See you later!”

Congratulating himself on successfully completing Stage 1 of Plan B, Duncan went out to Rob’s house to spend the day playing video games. 

***

Normally, an evening spent watching The Crown sandwiched on the couch between Kelly and her mam would have been his idea of hell, but this evening was different. He waited about half an hour into the programme before putting Stage 2 into action.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” he announced as he stood up. 

He made his way upstairs. He had it all planned. He’d quickly sneak into Kelly’s room, grab a few pairs of panties, then head back down without anyone suspecting a thing. He’d even flush the toilet to make it convincing. Then he’d have plenty of time during the week to get back into Ellen’s room. He’d completely out smarted that old b-

Wait…

Since when did Kelly lock her bedroom door!?

***

Kelly had no patience with her boyfriend's attitude. He’d been sulking half the evening, but what did he expect? She’d told him her parents were home. She’d practically begged to go out. He was the one who didn’t want to. She could tell he was frustrated and she thought she knew why, but if he was going to act like this there was only one way the evening would end - whether her parents were home or not. She tried to convey an air of “I told you so” as she gave her boyfriend a cool goodbye and closed the front door on his face.

***

Duncan was starting to panic as he walked home. He was due back at Miss Andrew’s house tomorrow and he didn’t have the panties that he said he would buy. He felt like he’d forgotten to do a major homework assignment in school, except this time the consequences would be much worse than detention. He didn’t want to think what they might be!

What was he gonna do? He was gonna have to buy them. He was gonna have to walk into a shop and buy girls’ underwear! He nearly threw up on the street. 

OK. OK. Don’t panic. Just get in and get out. He could skip football practice and do it tomorrow morning before work. If he was quick, no one would see him. Just go in, buy a few pairs, and get out.

Oh yeah, with what money?

Crap!

He had no money. How could he buy them? Except… his parents had promised to give him the money to buy new football boots as a birthday present. He’d spent ages researching exactly the pair he wanted. But if he bought a cheaper pair he could use the money left over for panties. 

OK. He had now had a Plan C. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but what choice did he have?

***

Never a particularly early riser, it took Duncan a superhuman effort to throw off the bed covers the following morning. He knew what the day had in store and he was dreading it. It was like a nightmare. He was going to miss football practice to go shopping for panties. And he was going to use his birthday money – money he wanted for football boots – to buy them. And then he’d have to wear them!  Not to mention the rest of his uniform. It was no wonder he just wanted some place to hide! Nevertheless, he begrudgingly plodded downstairs. 

Getting the money from his parents was no difficulty. He just explained that he’d chosen the boots and he wanted to buy them this morning. They queried his skipping football practice but offered no objection. And soon enough Duncan was sitting on the bus on his way to the large shopping centre near where he lived. He didn’t know exactly where he should buy the panties, but there was a department store in the centre and he reckoned that was his best bet. He’d buy the panties first and then use the leftover money to get whatever boots he could so he had something to show at home for his morning. 

He walked back and forth outside the department store for ten minutes trying to work up his courage. 

“Come on. Just do it!”

Taking a deep breath, he strode in. 

“Get in. Buy them. Get out,” he said to himself. 

When he reached the lingerie department he soon realised it would not be so easy. He stood between two aisles of panties gazing in shock at a dizzying range of shapes, sizes and special offers. He tried to remember Miss Andrews’ instructions, hoping that would give him a clue. What had she said? Six pairs? And all in different colours and styles. His head was starting to spin. This was impossible. He was aware of other shoppers in the nearby aisles. His throat went dry. The last time he set foot in a lingerie department was by accident and he was embarrassed then. He had to get this over with. White. White was a colour. Start there. He reached out a shaking hand for a pair of white cotton briefs. He wore briefs. This would be fine. Now he just needed to check his size. His size? What was his size in panties? He had no idea. The numbers on the labels meant nothing to him. His nerves failed him. He shoved the panties back on the rail and beat a hasty retreat back out of the store. His heart pounding in his ears. 

After taking a moment to collect himself he pulled out his phone. He had to wipe the sweat off his palms before he typed:

“What size panties for boy 32 inch waist”

***

Walking into the shop the first time had been hard enough. Walking back in was excruciating. Duncan was convinced he could feel mirthful eyes following his humiliating return to the scene of his shame. 

Equipped with the knowledge he needed, he picked up a pair of the white panty briefs in his size. From white he turned to black as another safe colour. He found a pair of something reassuringly called shorts. They looked a bit lacy around the edges, but black shorts couldn’t be that bad. Two down four to go. 

There were too many pink panties for him to avoid getting some in that colour, but he decided if he had to get pink he’d get something in blue as well. He picked up a pair of something called Brazillians that looked similar to the pair Miss Andrew made him wear. They were pink with lace detailing in white. Close by were another pair of Brazilians in blue. The lace was done in a floral pattern which complimented the little white flowers on the fabric. According to the label they were “high waisted”. Duncan hoped this would qualify as a different style from the pink ones as he added them to his pile. 

Looking around for another colour a flash of red caught his eye. He reached out and picked up a delicate cotton thong. It had a neat little bow at the front, just below the waistband. He looked in horror at the feminine thing. He couldn’t imagine it was possible to even fit his parts into it. But the last thing he wanted to do was waste time being selective. It was a different colour and style so he added it to the others. 

Then, one of the things Miss Andrews said suddenly came back to him. The word bikini. Did she say she wanted him to buy a bikini? He thought they were just for the beach. He quickly looked through his selections. None of them had “bikini” written on the labels. He hastily walked up and down the aisles, but couldn’t see anything called a bikini. This was a disaster. He’d gone through all this and still hadn’t got what he needed. He could have screamed. He took a breath and tried to calm himself. He remembered what his favourite model on Instagram wore when she did her beach shoot. He’d been so turned on by it, it was so revealing. Miss Andrews must be really trying to embarrass him by getting him to wear something similar. Cursing under his breath he found what he was looking for. If the thong was small, this article was practically non existent. But it did look a lot like what the model wore in her Instagram. But there was another problem. The only one in his size was red and he already had something in that colour. He went back to the thongs and swapped his red one for the same style in purple, which the label called “magenta”, and which was so vibrant it seemed like it would glow in the dark. Trying to obscure his purchases in his arms, he headed for the tills. 

***

Duncan took a deep breath when he saw the small queue ahead of him. He joined the line of customers and tried to settle his nerves. His ordeal was nearly over. He’d just explain that he was shopping for his girlfriend and he’d be out of the store in no time. The customer at the till was trying to return something and was in no mood to accept the assistant’s offer of an exchange. No one was going anywhere until she got what she wanted. The assistant rang for a colleague to open up the second till. Duncan’s stomach hit the floor when he recognised the assistant who came in answer to the call. It was a friend of his sister’s. A girl called Amanda. 

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no, oh Jesus, oh fuck no!

Duncan turned to run, but there were now two or three people in the queue behind him. He couldn’t leave without drawing even more attention to himself. 

Maybe the complaining customer would leave and he could go to the first till and Amanda wouldn’t see what he was buying. There was still a person ahead of him, so there was time for the complainer to just piss off. Come on, hurry up! Come on!

“Next please. Oh hey, Duncan.”

Fuck!

“Oh hey Amanda” Duncan’s voice came haltingly. 

OK, just play it cool. 

“Kelly asked me to pick her up some things so I’m just shopping… for Kelly.”

“That’s nice. Wow, are these all for her?”

“Yeah, she gave me a whole list!” he attempted a laugh. 

“Are you sure of the size? I wouldn’t have thought Kelly was a 14.”

“That’s what she told me.” He was aware of flop sweat prickling under his shirt and his left leg had started jiggling impatiently. 

“Oh just a sec, these come with a matching bra,” said Amanda holding up the black lace shorts, “let me just get one for you.”

“No! I mean... she doesn’t need it.”

“But it’s free, it’s no problem.”

“Don’t bother, I don’t even know her size.”

“That’s OK, I’ll get one and if it’s the wrong size she can bring it back.” And she walked off with a smile. 

Duncan wanted to throw up all over the counter. He wanted to run out of the store then and there. But he knew the best way to avoid suspicion was to play along. 

“Now,” said Amanda coming back. “You’re all set.”

She rang up the last few items. And Duncan parted with a significant portion of his birthday money to buy six pairs of panties and a bra. On the positive side, he was sure Amanda hadn't suspected anything. She was chatting away now, asking questions about Ellen. 

***

There was just enough money left over for an almost decent pair of football boots. Duncan shoved the panties into the bottom of the sports bag and threw the department store bag in the bin by the bus stop. He sat on the bus shaking. He couldn’t believe what had happened that morning and he still had work at Miss Andrews ahead of him. Still, he reminded himself, he’d gotten away with it. 

***

Ellen’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Amanda.

You’ll never guess who was in the shop today…

***

To Be Continued......we hope XXX

Ok get your sunglasses on, time to put that shine on

I called this one "Intimidation". Would you feel the same?

Such style and elegance in those heels, love that dress too

Blog Favourite Amanda Holden, gets a wriggly and I can't concentrate LOL 

Duncan's Summer Job. Part 2

  Please help keep our

blog alive.

From only $3 a month

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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.

***

New Author presents, Duncan's Summer Job

 Please help keep our

blog alive.

From only $3 a month

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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”

***