Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2009 18:31:45 +0000 (GMT) From: Weasley Obrien <asenna73@yahoo.ie> Subject: SCHOOLBOY YARDWORK This is purely based on imagination, I hope enjoy the story. And please let me know your thoughts... I recently placed an ad at the local school for a boy to do some yard work. I figured that I would end up spending less money hiring a boy, and although I did not expect perfect work, I reckoned I would get compensated by some fun views. Although it was late in the school year when I placed the ad, there was still enough time for someone to call me, so I was disappointed when nobody did. On the last day of school, I received a call from a man who identified himself as Mr. Spike. He told me he worked for an agency that mediates between stores at the mall in the city and families of kids who've been in trouble there, so that the kids don't have to go through the court system and become "marked for life". He was asking if I'd found someone to do the yard work I'd been advertising. I told him that I hadn't, adding that I was looking for a middle schooler because I wanted someone who was still "trainable". "Well in that case," he said, laughing, "I've got a little troublemaker who could make you regret those words. Snotty kid, thinks he's the cat's pajamas, yeah? He's never had never had to work for anything in his life, but he'd got caught shoplifting, trying to steal something his daddy didn't want to buy. And so my company has made a deal with the kid's dad; the boy will work for someone the entire summer at minimum wage to pay for the gadget." "D'you think the kid will co-operate?" I asked "Well," he said, giving a sort of laugh, "he might need to be convinced to work since he's never done it before." "I'll think about it," I told him. "This kid might be more work than I want." "That'll be fine," he said, "but you'll need to let me know by tomorrow or I'll have to find the kid an alternative placement." "What's the boy's name?" I asked. "Nick," he told me. I took a few hours to think about the offer. Sure, I wanted a boy to do the work but if he was a little smart ass, what was intended to be fun could turn into a nightmare. On the other hand, if I laid down the law from the outset, it would make the kid realize that there were no easy routes out of the little mess he'd got himself into. I called Mr. Spike and told him I had an idea. I suggested that I could have the boy work with me for an entire week on the condition that he would need to sleep over during the week and at home on the weekend. And if I deemed it necessary, I could punish him as I saw fit. The man thought for a minute. He told me that punishing the kid would be okay as the store has final say on whether or not to press charges. As for him staying over, that would be up to his parents. I agreed to have them call me later that day to make arrangements. The phone call happened sooner than I expected; the boy's father was on the line. "I understand that you are looking for a boy to do some yard work," he said. "Yes," I said, "but more important I understand you are trying to get off the hook for something stupid he did?" Daddy didn't seem to like my tone; he stayed silent. "Listen," I continued. "I'm perfectly willing to have him do some work, but given his history I think he needs to be supervised by someone who actually cares that the work gets done. And I think him staying here for the week would make more sense than having both of you traveling 45 minutes each way all week long. Plus, like I told Mr. Spike, I will have to have your permission to punish him as I see fit." "Well... I don't know about the punishing part," the man said. "The little one is kind of scared of having to work but I guess he has to do it. What type of punishment are you talking about?" "The punishment would depend of what he does," I explained. "Something minor would mean no TV for the night, breaking something might be a spanking, and being disrespectful might be a bare bottom spanking." "Wow, that's kind of harsh," the man said. "The most he's ever got is being sent to his room." "Well, as we're having this conversation, that obviously didn't work so well." I told him. "Hey, I have to work too," the guy protested. "It's not easy raising these kids. But how are you going to supervise him day in and day out?" "Simple," I told him. "I own my own business, so I'll take two weeks off and just go in if I'm needed." "Okay," the man said with a note of resignation. "You can punish him whichever way he needs it, but when can I see him?" "Friday night till Monday morning," I said, "it depends on how fast he works. This might run on to the following week." "So when does he start?" the guy asked. "Next Monday," I said, "but he needs to be here Sunday night." "Okay," he conceded. "We'll be there about six o'clock so we can talk some more." I thought this was a great result. I called the guy from the security office. He said he was glad. "I'll drop off a wage timesheet," he said, "so you can make sure he pays off what he needs to pay off." "So how much is it?" I asked. "Not sure without getting the file out," the guy said, "well over a hundred dollars though." This was getting better all the time; at minimum wage that could take him several weeks to pay off. It sounded like I was going to have a little house mate for the summer. My night was spent quietly, trying to imagine how this would go. I was hoping the kid would be sweet; what I was expecting was a little tough guy that would try to give me a hard time. Eventually I fell asleep. Sunday I woke up late and decided to prepare my little guest's bedroom. It would be across the landing from me but he would have no private bathroom; he would have to share one with me that included a combined bath and shower. It would not be luxurious but he would have a minimum of stuff. I'd been told to reinforce the rule of no extras as he was here to make up for what he'd done. The day went by slowly, but eventually all was ready. I prepared a small snack in case his parents wanted to stay. A few minutes after six o'clock a black Mercedes parked in front of the house. A man got out. He appeared to yell; finally he managed to get the boy out of his car. The kid looked scared, not surprising as he'd pass more easily for a ten year old rather than almost thirteen. He wasn't slim but not fat either, with blond hair and nice eyes. Sadly, he was wearing those silly board shorts that give nothing to the imagination. The kid and his father came to the door. I decided to leave them there for a few minutes so that they wouldn't guess I'd been spying on their arrival. After a couple of minutes, I opened door. "It's about time!" the man complained. "We were starting to wonder if we had the right address!" "So am I supposed to assume that you guys are Nick and his dad?" I countered "Yes, I thought that was obvious," he grumbled. "Well, as your name isn't plastered on your forehead," I continued, "and as I don't have psychic powers, I usually expect people to introduce themselves when they come to the door." "I don't have time for this! he snapped. "Well, as I'm doing you a favor, I think you should have plenty of time for this." I said evenly. "And anyway, according to Mr. Spike, Nick is going to be working far more than a week at minimum wage to get his stuff paid off." Nick gasped, turning pale "How do you know that?" his dad demanded. "I just told you," I said casually. "Mr. Spike from the security company dropped off a paper telling me what Nick needs to pay. As that's over 100 dollars, at minimum wage he'll need work a good 40 hours to pay it off. As he's never done this type of work before, I'll be lucky to get four hours a day out of him. And as far as I am concerned it's not time spent that counts; it's the actual work done." The man clearly wasn't expecting this, and Nick was almost on the point of crying. I gave them time to think before making my point. "As we're going to be at this for a few weeks," I said firmly, "I suggest we restart this conversation so that we do this right from the start. So I'll close the door and let you decide your next move." They didn't respond, so I closed the door and left them to it. After five minutes had gone by, I assumed they'd gone, so I carried on dealing with my own stuff. Half an hour later there was another knock on the door. I opened it to find Nick and his dad standing there. The boy had obviously been crying, his eyes puffy and swollen, his dad looking less than pleased at having to go through the preliminaries a second time. "Hello sir," the man said politely. "This is my son Nick; he's here to do some work for you." I was pleased; that was the first hurdle safely negotiated. "Hello Nick, nice to meet you," I said, smiling. Nick didn't respond. "Well, I guess we'll have to work on speaking up," I continued, "but please come in." What followed was a civilized conversation. I reminded Nick why he was here and showed both of them the paper from Mr. Spike. It was fairly detailed showing what had been taken, the final value and the cost of the mediation process; the total was $160. After that, I gave them a quick tour of the house. I showed then Nick's bedroom, with a simple bed and no TV, but still quite comfortable. We moved on to the bathroom and then to the kitchen where I had left some fruit juice and mineral water and a few sandwiches. Nick's dad helped himself to a glass of juice. He then wanted to leave. Before he did, I had to remind them both about punishment. As I explained, Nick's eyes widened; it was obvious his dad hadn't told him anything about it. "But dad, that's wrong!" he said, speaking for the first time since they arrived. "Well, its okay," his dad said, sounding uncomfortable. "Some parents do punish their kids that way, and it was one of the conditions for Mr. Owens to take you in." "But . . . ," he protested. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him round. "Nick, if you whine, the punishment will start tonight," I said, firmly but quietly. "You can always leave, but from what I've been told, your only alternative would be a court appearance." "Sorry, son," his dad said soothingly. "This is the best way; if you behave, it won't happen again." "Noooooooooooo!!" the boy screamed, stamping his foot. "I want to go home now!" I grabbed the kid by both ears, turning him to face me. "Nick look at me," I said quietly. "I'll give you five seconds to calm down or the punishment starts right here." I turned to his dad "You either take him home now," I told him, "or you leave so I can deal with this my way." The man was clearly undecided; he obviously didn't care for my methods, but he didn't like the alternative either. "Okay," he said finally. "This hurts me a lot but it will be for the best, I'll come back Friday to pick you up. When you're done, come get your bag from the car." The man turned to leave. "Dad! Nooooo!" Nick protested "I'm coming with you!" At that point I'd had enough. He tried struggling but he was way too light. I brought him over to a chair, sat down and put him over my lap. I spanked him hard. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! he hollered. I spanked him twice more. He stopped struggling and hollering, just lying in my lap whimpering quietly. "Ok, Nick," I said quietly. Now you've settled down, I'll let you go. Get up and collect your bag from your dad's car. Then you're going to march your little butt up to your bedroom. You will take your shower and you will be going to bed early. Understood? He nodded. "Nodding isn't enough," I said. "I want to hear you say it." "Yes," he said, almost inaudibly. "Okay, go on then," I said, releasing him from my grip. He was out for longer than he needed to be. I opened the door; his dad was handing him the bag. Nick looked like he was still crying. He shuffled back into the house. I closed the door behind him as his dad's car disappeared down the road. The guy never even told the kid goodbye. I followed the boy up to his room. His eyes were still quite puffy; it seemed like he was settling down a little, but he was obviously very volatile, far too used to getting his own way. I had no intention of really hurting the boy, but I was determined he was going to earn his keep. I allowed him time to sort his stuff out, watching him like a hawk. "Okay, young man," I said. "Time for your shower; the bathroom's across there." "Okay, he said, giving me a faint smile. He made his way to the bathroom and closed the door. A few seconds later I heard the water running. I decided to leave him to it. Around twenty five minutes passed before the water finally stopped. I wondered if the boy might have masturbated but wasn't sure how he'd respond if I asked him. We had a quiet pre-bed snack. Nick made no conversation, just responded to my questions about school and grades with near- monosyllabic answers. I allowed him to watch television for a while, but when nine o'clock came round, I sent him up to bed; that was his curfew. I could tell he was about to argue, but he thought better of it and kept quiet. As he headed up the stairs, I hoped he'd soon relax a little; having a surly twelve year old all week would be no fun at all. Half an hour later I followed him. I thought about creeping into his room to see what he was up to but decided against it. As it goes, I fell asleep easily enough. The next morning I was out of bed early. I made a light breakfast going and went to get Nick out of bed. He seemed a bit upset to be woken at that time, but he quickly realized he wasn't at home. I was expecting an argument, but surprisingly he just shoved his hands down on his bed covers, telling me he would be out in a few minutes. True to his word, he joined me for breakfast. He was dressed in shorts and t-shirt, both kind of baggy, not showing much except for his lower legs and forearms. I let him eat in peace, reminding him of his chores of the day, wood cutting and stacking. He didn't seem too keen but didn't argue. To my surprise, he actually started to work quite enthusiastically, helping me to cut the small brush and raking the roots. After about an hour, he stood up and stretched. "I need the bathroom," he said. He could have peed out where he was but I wasn't going to push it. He was gone for about ten minutes. When he returned, he seemed a little less eager than before, but continued what he was doing steadily enough. But after only thirty minutes he announced he needed another bathroom break. I thought that was a bit odd, but I let him go. He was gone maybe half hour. When he came back, he looked a bit dazed. "You okay?" I asked. "Yeah, just had some diarrhea," he said casually He seemed to be acting a bit weird, but he settled back to work. "Can we have lunch now? He asked a short time later. "I'm hungry." I thought that a bit strange if he had had diarrhea, but I let it go; it was approaching the time in any case. "Why not?" I said, grinning at him. I left him to carry on working while I made some sandwiches. When everything was ready I strolled back out again. He'd done no work at all; I caught him just pulling his hand from the front of his shorts; there was a little tent sticking out in front. I couldn't tell how big he was, but no more than three and a half inches. "Lunch is ready," I said casually. "Okay," he replied, looking embarrassed. Over lunch, Nick became more talkative, which was a pleasant surprise. "Have you ever been married?" he asked. "No," I said quietly. "Got any kids?" he continued. "No," I repeated. "So why did you take me in?" he queried. "Boys are okay," I said casually. "I like boys; they can be kinda fun to have around." Suddenly he went quiet, blushing bright red. "If there's anything bothering you, just ask me about it," I said. "I need the bathroom," he responded. I let him go; twenty minutes later he was still there. I quietly made my way up the stairs. It was obvious what he was doing; the sounds were unmistakeable. "Nick get out of the bathroom this instant," I said sternly, "and go do your yard work. No more slacking off and no more bathroom breaks!" "But I wasn't doing anything!" he bleated, emerging from the bathroom, an obvious tent in his shorts. "Nick, I didn't say you are doing anything wrong," I told him, "but you're here to work off what you did. As long as you do the work well I'm not going to say anything. And as for you `not doing anything', well, we can talk to your dad about that. Fair enough?" "Please, please don't say anything," he pleaded, almost crying again. "You can punish me whatever way you want but please don't tell on me!" "Ok Nick," I said calmly. "I'll decide on your punishment later, but you go and do the work we started this morning then I'll tell you what we'll do" Nick looked relieved and worried all at the same time, tears still streaking his face. "Do a good job and you'll see it won't be so bad." I said gently, patting him on the rear. I sent him on his way. Once I cleared the lunch dishes I went to join him. Nick was working much better, almost as well as when he first started. We were lucky; the afternoon was warm but not excessively so. The work progressed well; to my surprise, we cleared most of the things that needed to be cleared. Even more gratifying was that Nick was working better than I'd ever expected he would. We took drinks breaks when I said we could; in between times he just did exactly what I told him. I checked my watch. "That's it for today, buddy," I said, grinning at him. "Supper time; you go take a shower while I start the barbecue. Make it quick; I need one too." Nick nodded and went on his way. No more than twenty minutes later he was back, helping me with the barbecue and acting like a real young gentleman. "I'll be back as soon as I've had a shower," I told him. "You can start putting the meat on the grill if you want." As I showered, I thought about the day's events. The mental image of Nick masturbating was very exciting, not to mention that cute little tent in his shorts. In no time I had an erection. I took care of it quickly; I still had to deal with punishing the kid. I wasn't going to mention his masturbation but I would let him know it was a normal activity. The orgasm was very satisfying. I put on some loose clothing and quickly returned to my little guest. I found him in a cute pose, looking intently at the barbecue, one hand with on the spatula and the other inside his shorts. He didn't seem to have heard me, so I went to the fridge to get a glass of wine and a can of coke. I made a bit more noise before going through the patio door. When I finally appeared, Nick was just holding the spatula, his ever- present bulge still very much in evidence. "You've started these really well," I said smiling, just checking how well cooked the steaks were. "Your dad show you how to do this?" "No," he said, smiling proudly, "but it's fun cooking over the fire. I hope dad will let me do it at home." Supper was good; Nick was definitely coming out of his shell. "You should be proud of yourself today," I told him. "You got a lot of work done; made a good job with the steaks too." "Thanks!" Nick said, glowing. "If you've got any questions about, you know, `boy-stuff', I said gently, "just ask; it's no problem." He blushed, but nodded that he understood. Supper was done; it was time for his punishment. "Put the dishes in the kitchen then wait in the TV room," I told him. Nick nodded and set to his work. A few minutes later everything was done. I found him sitting on the sofa. I sat down next to him "Nick," I said quietly "I don't really like punishing you because you did such a good job today. I'm actually pretty happy you decided to stay with me, but I need to do this so you know I was serious. I won't talk to your dad about what you were doing, but you can ask me anything you want." Nick was quiet, his eyes trained on the floor. I lifted his chin. "The sooner we get this done the sooner we can get to the important stuff." I told him. He didn't reply, clearly worried about what was going to happen. I decided to make it easy for him. "Stand up," I said. He did as I asked, turning to face me. "Nick I'm going to spank you, first just on your shorts and then you'll lose your shorts. I'll give you seven swats each time, okay?" He just nodded, not saying a squeak. I got myself in a comfortable position and then had Nick stand on my left side. I separated my legs a little and pulled him down towards me, his groin landing on mine. I suddenly realized I hadn't put any underwear on, more out of habit than anything else. I adjusted his position, allowing him to relax and get his legs comfortable. Once he was settled, I lifted my hand and brought it down hard. There was little reaction. I spanked him again, harder this time; his head snapped back. On the third and fourth swats, his reaction stayed pretty much the same. On the fifth, he inhaled sharply, letting go a quiet whimper. I gave him two more swats, his whimpers getting louder each time. My hand was sore; I allowed it to linger on his butt, heat radiating from it. It was time to go to the next level. "Stand up," I said firmly. "Put your hands on your head and no rubbing of your butt!" He stood up hesitantly, his eyes watering. He was very flushed. I was pleased to see he'd sprouted a nice little erection, his shorts delightfully tented. I didn't mention it, just pulled them down till they fell in a puddle round his feet, the hard bulge in his grey boxer-briefs making the situation even more obvious. I repositioned him for his spanking. His erection was rubbing my leg but I still didn't say anything. "D'you want to be done quickly or slowly," I asked. "Be quick please," he said. The second session was much the same, except that I was spanking him harder, His whimpering was back by the second swat and he was crying by the fourth. I stopped after the sixth swat, gently helping him to his feet. He was tearful now but his erection was as prominent as ever. "You took that very well, I said quietly, giving him a gentle hug. "I promise not to punish you again unless you misbehave. And if you want to talk about anything you know you can ask any time." "Now go and wash your face," I concluded. He took his shorts and went to the bathroom. A few minutes later he was back. To my surprise he was still only in his boxer briefs. His erection had subsided a little, but it was still there. I was still sitting on the sofa. I patted the seat next to me. He sat down really close, his leg brushing against mine. "Thanks," he whispered. "Thanks for what?" I asked, gently rubbing his back. "For treating me like your boy," he said, smiling up at me. "Well Nick," I said, smiling back, "as long as you're here I'd like to think of you as my boy." "I'd like that," he said, grinning. To my surprise, he hugged me. I hugged him back. "You know, I like this very much," I whispered, nuzzling his smooth blond hair. "I might have to spank you more often." "Can I ask you something?" he asked. "Ask whatever you want," I said gently. There was a long silence. We were still hugging, my hand still rubbing his shirtless back. "It's never done that before," he said finally. "What exactly are you talking about, Nick?" I enquired. "My dick's never gone stiff like that before," he replied, blushing. "You know, without me rubbing it." Now I was blushing too. "Well, you know some boys do have fantasies," I said quietly, "and sometimes the fantasy happens to be being spanked. Do ever think about being spanked when you masturbate?" "I never used to," he said, looking straight at me, "but I do now!" He was blushing from head to toe.