Julie’s New Houseboy Ch. 04

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Babes

Some months have passed since Duncan took his infamous slow drive downtown. He carried it out admirably. Oh, he was taxed by the experience. The ridicule, the contempt he’d received left its mark on his delicate constitution. Through it all, however, he was true to me, and to the purpose of the project, which was to prove his devotion to me, to show me that under his soft-spoken demeanor lay a resolute fealty to me, his owner.

Now, whenever he isn’t home working on his various editing assignments, and when I’m not at the cafe, he is at my place. I have to admit that the more Duncan does to clean or decorate there, the more I realize that it was an area I’d neglected. Not that I never cleaned, but it was just to keep things hygienic or stored out of the way. You know, clean the bathroom, wash dishes, etc.

The apartment looks rather different now. Duncan stripped the wood floors and polished them. He bought , then installed, some very tasteful mocha-colored mini blinds in all the front windows. I find this is a boon to my painting as I can regulate the light better.

He brought in a 3’x3′ wood block prep table for the kitchen, and this he uses to prepare meals for me. He is a surprisingly gifted cook! He makes dishes in large batches, and stocks the freezer. There’s always something delish waiting for me whenever I want it.

Plus, when dinner time rolls around, Duncan serves me. In the evening, as I busy myself talking to a friend on the phone, or work on a painting or sketch, Duncan is in the kitchen “rattlin’ them pots and pans’, as the song goes.

Once the food is ready, Duncan lets me know. He follows me to the table, pulls out the chair, and unfolds the linen napkin onto my lap (napkins courtesy of Duncan).

There’s a cloth on the table, one taper candle, and a small vase of flowers.

There are a couple of standard items for dinners. One is a liter of Pellegrino water, lightly chilled, and the other is a bottle of wine.

As far as wine goes, I’m usually in the camp of California zins or Argentinian malbecs; something on the dark and chewy side.

Duncan, however, being careful to not offend my sense of taste, has introduced me to some very nice French wines. Let’s see… there were some reds I really liked; Pommard, Nuit Ste George. Gorgeous and velvety little devils. I’m pretty sure these set Duncan back a bit, but he insists on buying them.

And he’s just the kind of waiter I would want in a restaurant: discreet, in the background, attentive. The water and wine glasses never get to the empty point. Sometimes, I don’t even notice that he’s refilled them!

On a typical evening at home (one when I’m not working), I’ll enjoy my dinner, and Duncan will whisk the plates away. Then he brings, first, a snifter of XO Hennessy cognac, followed by a triple espresso. The cognac is top shelf – knock your socks off good. I lean back in my chair, and savor it coursing through my veins. Cognac courtesy of Duncan, don’t you know, as is the very fine Italian espresso machine!

I think Duncan would just go on serving and pampering me no matter what, but we are both abundantly compensated when I reward him. There was a point in the midst of Duncan’s cleaning, cooking, remodeling, and what-not, that I felt it was time to see to my bodily needs. I knew, of course, that I would have a most avid pupil in Duncan.

One night, sprawled on the sofa and draining my second cognac, I called Duncan from the kitchen. He came at once, wearing the apron that he kept under the kitchen sink.

“Yes, Miss Julie?” he said, looking flushed from standing over the sink full of soapy water.

“Take off your apron, then come in here.” I said.

Duncan gave me a timid inquiring look which I understood as a request to speak.

“Go on.” I said.

“Should I finish up the dishes first? They’re almost done.” he said, drying his hands on a dishtowel he had looped onto the apron string.

“Do them later. Lose the apron, and then get in here.” I said with some severity.

Duncan scampered in the direction of the kitchen, untying the apron as he went.

He was back in an instant, standing facing me.

“On your knees, Dunky.” I said, relishing my power over him. The two big cognacs were helping the situation. I was ready to be worshipped like a queen!

“Come closer to the couch.” I said, and Duncan kneed his way over in short order.

“Dinner was very good.” I began. “You’ve been helpful lately in many ways, and I want to reward you.”

“Miss Julie, being here in your presence is…”

“Is what?” I said. “Enough for you? Well, so the fuck what!” I said, my voice rising. Duncan hung his head.

“I’m sorry, Miss…”

“Shut up, Duncan.” I said, leaning back into the couch and giving him a withering stare.

“Did it occur to you that your ‘reward’ isn’t so much for you as it is for me?”

“No, miss Julie. I failed to think of that.” he said, still looking downward.

“Bring that bottle in here, Duncan. I think I might just polish it off tonight. I’m feeling kind xslot of wild.”

As I said that I lifted my foot and gave him a good shove in his chest. He toppled over, but recovered and hurried to the kitchen for the cognac.

While he was off fetching the bottle, I pulled off my shorts and tossed them on the floor. I waited for his return wearing a thong and a light cotton top.

Duncan knelt on the far side of the coffee table, uncorked the bottle, and poured.

“Now come back to where you were.” I said, indicating the spot right by the couch, right by me.

Duncan, of course, must have seen the shorts on the floor the moment he returned. I lifted the snifter and drank. At the same time, I let my legs spread apart, lifting one foot onto the couch. As I sipped, I stroked the inside of my thigh.

Mmmmmmm, my skin is so sensitive here.” I said. Duncan, for his part, was completely at a loss. His eyes went here, then there. It was rather comical! I lifted my top so that my belly was exposed.

“Here, too.” I said, stroking the area around my navel. “So sensitive and soft.”

Duncan’s breathing was growing rapid and punctuated by little gasps. Just the result I expected.

“You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you, Duncan?” I said, continuing to gently stroke my belly.

“I’ve tried, miss Julie. I’m happy to please you.” he said, his voice higher pitched than usual. He was also having trouble getting through whole sentences without taking another breath. Hmmmmm. Wicked Julie, casting a spell. If Duncan didn’t have a raging hard-on by this time, then he didn’t have a dick.

“Why don’t you stroke my thigh a little, Dunky.” I said, spreading my legs further still.

“Yes, Miss Julie.” came his trembling reply.

Duncan seemed to be in a hypnotic state as he slowly reached a quaking hand toward me. I was enjoying his discomfort, and his excitement, considerably. Duncan, I thought to myself, was a world of entertainment and pleasure for me. Who needed cable?

His fingers glided lightly over my skin. They were soft and warm and, like Duncan himself, sensitive. He knelt there, his eyes fixed upon his hand, amazed, no doubt, that it was doing something so wondrous.

“Very good, Duncan.” I encouraged. I took another sip of the cognac. My body responded in the most amicable way to it, and to Duncan’s respectful touch. This was living!

Duncan continued his soft stroking.

“Use both hands, Duncan.” I said. “You’re doing a good job.”

Duncan’s eyes had a glow to them. He had the look of someone who has woken up in a distant, enchanted world.

“Good boy.” I said, watching him. He looked up briefly and shyly in thanks for these encouraging words.

“How is the shrine for my panties progressing, Duncan?” I asked.

“It’s nearly done, Miss Julie.” he said, not missing a beat in his ministrations to my legs.

“I went to a fabric outlet a few days ago.” he continued. “I found a really nice black silk piece with gold metallic thread running through it. I cut it to the right size, and I’m nearly done sewing the edges. Your framed panties will look so regal placed upon it, Miss Julie!”

“Pictures, Dunc. I want them soon.”

“Yes, Miss Julie. Tomorrow, for sure.”

“I’ll be over to inspect it in person later. And you can show me how you worship me when I do. Have you performed a worship yet?” I asked, resting a leg on his shoulder.

“I was going to wait until the shrine was finished. Though I have spoken some words as I worked on it.” he said, coloring some.

“Some words, eh?”

“Praising you, Miss Julie. I’m also composing a more formal worship. Something I can do every morning after I wake.”

“First thing?” I said, smiling.

“Yes, of course, Miss Julie.”

While Duncan had been communing respectfully with my pink panties at home, I felt he needed to be introduced to those parts of my body that the panties had been enclosing. I pulled the elastic waistband of my thong down.

“Hmmmmm. Looks like my pubes need trimming, Dunc. What do you think?” I said, and watched the wide-eyed Duncan struggle for words.

“I like to keep them neat. Oh, you’ve never seen my bush before, have you?” I said, scratching lightly in my patch.

“No, Ma’am, Miss Julie.” he said, watching my fingers move.

“Get the scissors from the medicine chest.” i instructed, and Duncan scurried off. While he was gone, I removed my thong.

Duncan came back with the scissors and resumed his kneeling position. He proffered the scissors.

“No, Duncan. I want you to do it.” I said firmly.

“Me? I… you want me…” he stammered. How touching!

“Yes, you! What did I just say?” I said. “Are you dense?”

“I’m sorry Miss…”

“This is the perfect time for you to shut up, Duncan. Hand me the scissors and observe.”

I pulled up a bit of hair from the corner of my thatch and snipped.

“There. Like that. Take a look.” I said, holding out the clippings so that he could see.

I moved to the edge of the sofa, xslot Giriş so that my pussy was more accessible to him. I spread my legs.

“Before you begin, I want you to take a good look at my pussy, or, as I like to call it, my cunt. Do you like the sound of that word, Dunky?” I said in a childish voice.

“I do, Miss Julie, though some women find it offensive, so I never say it.”

“But you like it?”

“I admit that I do, Miss Julie. I apologize.” he said, hanging his head.

“It’s okay, Dunc. Because I happen to like it. Though probably for a different reason. I like the idea of taking what men use as an insult, and making them respect it. Got it?”

“I do, Miss Julie. Taking it back.”

“Exactly.” I said.

“and why are you so fond of the word, Duncan?”

“I, well…”

“Be honest, Dunky. I’ll know if you’re not.” I said warningly.

“It arouses me, Miss Julie. I’m sorry. I…”

“No need to be sorry, Dunc!” I assured him. “That’s how men are.”

“Now, Duncan, if you give me a really nice trim, I will reward you. My cunt wants to look pretty.”

“I’ll do my very best, Ma’am.” Duncan said with conviction.

“Of course you will. However, if I even once feel those scissors on my skin, I will stop you and I will take a belt to your ass. Understood?”

“Yes, Miss Julie.”

Sooner or later, he would feel that belt on his milky skin, and my sense was that Duncan would rather like it. Time would tell.

As Duncan began to oh-so-carefully trim my bush, I leaned back and laid plans for the evening.

“Do you have an erection, Duncan?” I said bluntly. He pulled back and sat on his heels. He looked at me.

“I do, Miss Julie. And I’m sorry.”

“What is it that arouses you so?” I said, innocently. The reasons were obvious, but I wanted to hear them from his lips.

“I am so close to you, to your, your…”

“Go on.” I encouraged.

“to your cunt, Ma’am.”

“And?”

“And your beautiful legs, Miss Julie. I can’t help myself.” he blurted out, his voice breaking.

“You’re doing a good job with the scissors. by the way.” I said sitting up straighter to afford a better view of his work.

“Very nice.” I said, giving him a pat on the head.

“Here, put the clippings on this tissue.” I said, spreading a Kleenex on the coffee table. I had plans for them.

When he was done, he sat back.

“Verrrrrry nice, Duncan!” I told him, and he glowed with gratitude, nodding and thanking me repeatedly until I stopped him.

“You get a kiss for all doing a good job.” i said.

Duncan waited.

“Oh. I mean you get to kiss me!” I explained.

Duncan waited, speechless. Waited to further instructed.

“”Here.” I said, touching the inside of my thigh.

Duncan’s head slowly rested on the couch cushion, and he looked lovingly at the smooth skin. His kiss was very gentle and very warm. I delighted in the simplicity of the gesture. He turned his gaze up to me, and I saw in it the purest devotion imaginable.

That night, I educated Duncan on just how I wished to be sexually catered to by him. He was an apt pupil. Our time together up to that point had been a test of his commitment, and a gathering of energies, sexual and psychological; all in the service of his ultimate role, i.e., being my oral servant and worshipping me. As it turns out, the timing was just right. He was ripe for plucking.

My instructions were carefully listened to and very pleasantly carried out, I must say!

I allowed him to continue kissing my thighs, and the increasing warmth of Duncan’s face as he attended to me revealed his high level of excitement. Occasionally, I would ’embrace’ his head with my legs, a soft thigh on either side of his flushed face. Such a pretty image it made!

His attentions, so tenderly done, were getting me hot, and I knew that Duncan was enjoying the olfactory heaven wafting from my cunt lips. He gave no discernible sign of this, no sniffing, however discreetly done. He knew his bounds. Still, one could tell. I myself could smell it.

Before I took him further, I decided a bit of recess was called for. Still wearing the cotton tee shirt, I had Duncan strip before me, and I enjoyed his discomfort greatly. He nearly fell over while removing his pants! Once finished, I had him stand before me, and I examined him. He has no body hair, to speak of – armpits, pubes, some on his legs. Looking him over, he seemed surprisingly in shape; slim without being skinny. He has a normal-sized cock, rather pretty, in fact, with light blue veins on its shaft. It especially pleased me that he showed a very cute butt: well-shaped, a light covering of hair there, too. Whenever correction was called for, it would rain down upon those sweet, fleshy globes, I thought with private glee.

I rose from the couch, returning with a T-square from my work table. I had Duncan come closer and, as he did, I could clearly see that he was becoming erect. No surprises there, but it was fun to watch him blush as I gave him xslot Güncel Giriş a knowing glance.

Sitting back, I took the T-square in hand and, with it, moved his cock from side to side, then lifted it (further still!). It was as though I were buying horseflesh. I gave his ballsack a light slap, and Duncan jumped slightly in reaction. I had him turn so that I could take a closer look at his darling little bum. I gave him a sharp whack with the flat of the T-square, and his cheeks tightened briefly.

“Did you like that, Dunky?” I inquired.

“Yes, Ma’am, miss Julie.” he said, and I could tell he wasn’t just being polite.

“Do you know what will happen if you displease me?” I asked.

“No, Miss Julie. Not exactly.” he carefully responded.

“Take a wild guess.” I said with obvious sarcasm. I had him turn to face me.

“I’ll be punished in that way?”

“And just what way are you talking about, little boy?”

“Punishing my bottom, Miss Julie.” he said, and though he was turned away from me, I could imagine quite well his reddening face. I laughed.

“Your bottom? Is that what you call it?”

“Yes, Miss, Julie. There are other words, but… well, I thought it might be rude to…”

“What? To say ‘ass’? I said, savoring his agitation.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, Duncan, you’re quite right. I will whip your bottom good if you anger or displease me. do you understand?”

“Certainly, Miss Julie. Thank you.”

The ‘thank you’ said it all. He wanted it.

The remainder of the evening was given over to training Duncan’s tongue. Since it would be the normal sequence, I first gave instructions for licking and kissing my ass. I had him kneel, then I turned around and draped myself over the back of the sofa, giving Duncan a birds-eye view of my nether region. I could hear him gasp lightly, but then, I knew from the get-go that he was a born ass licker. I would be well-compensated by his services there.

“Kiss my ass, Duncan.” I said, relishing the supremacy over him that these words embodied.

After the first kiss, I gave him full rein, and I pleasured in the feel of his warm lips over every square inch of my buttocks. He began to make small whimpering sounds, which I rather liked hearing. Still, I told him to shut up, just for the sake of control.

Next on the agenda, I had him slowly lick my cheeks. Here, too, his sensitive touch hit the mark. This was where men like Duncan loved being, and, frankly, where they belonged. And in the classroom of women who want their asses licked, mine would be the first hand to shoot up.

“Duncan, would you like to place your nose between my asscheeks?” I asked nonchalantly, knowing full well that this question sent a shock right down into his testicles, and made them squirm with anticipation.

“Oh, yes, Miss Julie. Yes, please.” came his fervent reply.

“You’d like that?” I teased. If ever a question were rhetorical!

“Oh, very much so, thank you, Miss Julie.” he said, his voice taking on a strange hoarseness, as if his breathing were restricted. “Oh, yes Ma’am.”

“You may, then.” I said.

I felt the tip of his nose touch my skin, then move lightly up and down in the crevice.

“You may go further in, if you like.” I said.

Still maintaining the up and down path, Duncan slowly allowed his nose to venture deeper between my cheeks. It was touching to feel the care and respect he exhibited in these movements.

“Can you smell my asshole, dunky?” I said playfully. “Hmmmm?”

“Yes, Miss Julie. Thank you.” he said, his words slightly muffled by their tight enclosure.

“And?”

“It’s beautiful, Miss Julie.” he said, and I could hear him sniffing after he spoke.

“Beautiful, really?” I said, sounding unconvinced. “I always thought assholes were dirty places. That’s where, you know, the poop comes out. You really like that?”

“Everything about you is wonderful, Miss Julie.” he offered.

“Okay then, Duncan. That’s clear. You like getting your nose up against where I shit.”

“I do, Miss Julie.”

“Well, look here, Dunc.” I said, resting my head on my crossed arms, “That works out perfectly with my interests. You know why?”

“I’d like to know, Ma’am.”

Well, I’m rather partial to the feel of a submissive man’s nose up my ass.” I said bluntly. “Understand?”

“I do, Miss Julie.” came his immediate reply. “I really do. It is your right, and I am so happy that I can fulfill that wish for you.” he said.

“would you like to come closer to my hole,Duncan?” I said.

“Oh, yes, Miss Julie!” he said emphatically, his breath whispering warm and soft across my inner cheeks and down to my labia.

“Touch it with your nose tip, then.” I said. “just a gentle nuzzle.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Ah! The exquisite feel of a slave boys nose on the surface of my sensitive sphincter. Very nice! It had been some time since I felt it, but not one iota forgotten. The last one I had was a bit older than Dunc, and, boy, was he ever hungry for it.

“Stroke it with your nose now, Dunky.” I instructed, and he fell to the task at once. Mmmmmm. I was a woman getting her way. I was sure Duncan now had a raging hard-on. He might be dripping precum onto the carpet by now, if I judged correctly.

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