Stable Boy

Jim had plenty to do before the afternoon rush, he had, after all, been way from the stables all day and this meant that he was still dashing around trying to get things ready when the first girls arrived. After that it was the usual mayhem as he sorted out the right bridles, trying to keep the little madams happy and get everyone out and into the various paddocks as quickly as possible. Mrs Johnson arrived with Kirsty and her friends but Jim was far too busy to do anything more than acknowledge her presence as her car pulled into the yard. She didn’t even get out of the car but just gave him a smile and a wave before driving off as soon as the girls had alighted.

He was still rushed off his feet when he heard the roar of Amanda’s sports car and the screech of tyres as she parked up. Moments later she and her friends came into the stables passing a bottle around and singing the old Alice Cooper hit ‘School’s Out’. They had come straight from school and hadn’t bothered to change so they were still in their  uniforms which consisted of  a white blouse and a navy blue pleated skirt. Amanda, unsurprisingly, had her skirt as short as she could possibly get away with and the others weren’t much longer. As they approached Jim recognised the Smirnoff label on the bottle and realised with horror that they were roaring drunk.

“’ello, doormat!” Amanda came up to Jim and wrapped herself around him in a grotesque parody of an embrace before reaching down, grabbing his caged penis through his jeans and twisting. Jim’s knees buckled and he let out a strangled gasp of pain. “Wassup” Amanda slurred. “Can’t doormat take it?” She twisted again and then gave a push and Jim fell to the ground.

“Come on, let’s  'ave some fun, get ‘im in ‘ere.” Amanda pushed open the door of the nearest stall and, kicking and prodding with her feet, pushed Jim along the floor and up against the far wall. The other three crowded in behind and Sandra closed the door. Amanda stood over him, her foot resting on his chest.

“We’re in the mood to party ‘cos there’s NO MORE SCHOOL!” Amanda’s shout echoed around the stable block causing several of the ponies to whinny.

“Shh!” Karen urged in a drunken whisper. “She’ll hear us.”

“Fuck shh.” Amanda sneered. “Who cares what that bitch thinks? She's not important; she's just staff.” She took another long pull from the bottle. “I fancy a ride and I don’t mean on a horse. Gettem off, doormat.”

“Miss Fforbes!” Jim was horrified. “Please, there are still plenty of youngsters around; you must be careful. What if they saw us? We’d both get into trouble.”

“Trouble! Hah! What do I care?” Amanda said. “I can handle it; I can handle anything, anything at all. Now get your kit off or you’ll find out what trouble means.”

Prompted by more kicks and shoves from the girls Jim reluctantly pulled his tee shirt over his head and undid the button on his jeans before pushing them down to his ankles.

“Oh fuck. I forgot that Miss Horsey keeps him locked up.” Amanda poked at Jim’s caged penis with the toe of her shoe. “Where’s the key, doormat?”

“Miss Worthing... She keeps it.” Jim stuttered in reply.

“I bet your dick is pretty useless anyway; looks like we’ll just have to sit on your face. Who’s going first?” Amanda looked around the other three but they didn’t quite share her bravado. Drunk as they were they weren’t keen to be the first, not here in the stables with so many people around. As ever Amanda picked on the weakest. “Kathy, go on, you slag. It’s about time that cunt of yours saw some action, even if it is only doormat’s tongue.”

“Please, Amanda.” Kathy replied, backing away, obviously horrified.”You know I don't like boys.”

“It’s Miss Amanda to you, and don’t you forget it!” Amanda snapped and, quick as a flash she stepped forward and slapped Kathy across the face. “You do as I say; now, get on with it.”

Kathy looked gutted and there were tears in her eyes but, after a moment’s hesitation whilst she realised just how serious Amanda was she came and stood with her feet either side of Jim’s head. As she started to squat down Amanda held her back.

“Knickers off first, you stupid cunt.” Amanda ordered. Kathy gave Amanda a pleading look but, getting no response, lifted up her skirt and started to push her panties down. She stepped out of first one leg and then the other and, as soon as they were free Amanda snatched them away. “Oooh, how sweet. My little pony; it looks like you're still letting mumsy buy your undies.” The others laughed as Amanda waved the panties around. Then, suddenly, she was serious again. “I'll keep these; now, get on with it.”

Sniffing away the tears Kathy once again positioned herself over Jim and squatted down until she was sitting on his chest. Lifting up the front of her skirt she shuffled forward until her crotch was over Jim’s mouth. He reached out his tongue and started to lick. Compared with his recent experiences this was a whole different ball game. Both Mrs Johnson and Miss Worthing had been highly aroused and they had both smelled and tasted of that delicious female scent but Kathy was as dry as a bone and Jim was having trouble finding his way through her thick pubic bush, let alone easing her lips apart and finding his way inside.

“Wassup, fatty?” Amanda slurred. “You don’t seem to be enjoying it very much; is doormat as useless with his tongue as he is with everything else? Here, have another hit of vodka.”

Jim could feel the shudder run through Kathy as she swigged from the bottle but no amount of alcohol, nor any urging from Amanda was going to make this any easier; there was nothing erotic about the situation for her; she was too scared to become aroused and there was nothing Jim could do about it. However, Kathy started to writhe about and moan and, with a start, Jim realised she was faking it. He even stopped licking just to see what would happen and was rewarded with an ‘Oh yes, just like that!’ from Kathy. Taking the hint he just lay there whilst she squirmed about on his chest, the flare of her skirt hiding their deception from the others. Even so it was less than comfortable for Jim to have Kathy’s full weight bearing down on him, grinding him into the brick flooring. Urged on by the others Kathy was upping the tempo and Jim felt that they were sure to see through her rather pathetic over acting but in their drunken state they all fell for it hook, line and sinker and were cheering drunkardly when, suddenly...

“What on earth is going on here?” Miss Worthing had been walking through the stables and had come over to investigate. She pushed open the door to the stall and walked in. “What on earth do you lot think you’re doing?”

“Just having some fun; celebrating the end of school.” Amanda replied, totally unconcerned whilst Kathy stood up as quickly as she could and Jim reached down, pulling his trousers up.

“Fun! You’ve got no idea, have you? There are girls as young as eight or nine around. If one of them, or worse still, their parents, were to walk in on you then you’ll be in far more trouble than even your father could get you out of. That’s just the sort of bad publicity my stables do not need; get caught and you ruin the ‘fun’ for everyone.” Miss Worthing said, her anger still evident. “You’ve got to learn there’s a time and place and this is not one of them. Now get dressed and tidy up before someone comes.” Then she noticed the bottle. “You’re drunk, aren’t you, all of you, completely pissed. I might have guessed as much. Go home; I’m not having you near any of my horses whilst you’re in this state. I’ll call a you taxi; go home and sleep it off.”

“And who’s going to make me?” Amanda said looking Miss Worthing straight in the eye.

“I am.” Miss Worthing’s reply came straight back. “I know you think you’re the boss around here but you’re not. These are my stables and I say what does and doesn’t happen and, talking about what is mine, I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my staff from now on. He’s got quite enough to do around here without you distracting him all the time.”

There was a long, long pause. At the other end of the stable a horse whinnied which only seemed to accentuate the silence. Amanda had a defiant look on her face, she was far too used to getting her own way to back down immediately but she had never really come up against someone like Miss Worthing before and, gradually, Amanda’s confidence sapped as, unlike her parents, Miss Worthing failed to give way.

“Come on, girls, it’s boring round here, anyway.” Amanda said eventually. “And you” she turned to Miss Worthing “you've not heard the last of this.” With a flounce she pushed past and headed for the main door, the others trailing along in her wake. Miss Worthing watched as Jim picked himself up off the floor and put his tee shirt on. They both heard the roar of Amanda’s sports car followed by the squealing of tyres and an awful metallic crash but, by the time they got to the yard all that was left was a small pile of broken glass and a patch of red paint on the gatepost, both testimony to Amanda's drunken inability to negotiate the gateway. Jim could imagine the scrape down the side of the car and how much it was going to cost to put right. In the peaceful summer afternoon the roar of the sports car being over revved could be heard as it made its erratic way through the lanes.

“Sweep that up. I’ll talk to you later.” Miss Worthing said pointing to the glass, and, without another word she went off into the paddocks.

Later on, when all the girls had gone, Jim was tidying up, catching up with all the chores he hadn’t had time to do that morning. The day had been warm from the start and, as he worked away, the sweat streamed down him. The final task was restacking the hay bales in the barn and, with the heat and the dust he just had to strip off his tee shirt. He was about half way through when he became aware of Miss Worthing leaning against the door jamb, watching him.

“I’m sorry, Miss Worthing.” Jim said, startled. “I didn’t see you there. Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, I’m fine, carry on, please don’t let me stop you.” Miss Worthing said but, as Jim returned to work, she stayed leaning against the door, still watching his every move.

“You’re quite fit, aren’t you?” She said at last. “I’ll bet you’re girlfriend loves all those muscles.”

“Girlfriend? I haven’t got a girlfriend.” Jim replied as he lifted another bale to the top of the stack.

“No girlfriend? Why ever not?” Miss Worthing said in mock amazement. “A good looking lad like you, surely you have to fight them off.”

“I just… I just haven’t met the right one.” Jim returned. He wasn’t going to admit that his crippling shyness around girls was a major contributing factor.

“Well, you’re certainly a hit around here. Neither Mrs Johnson nor Amanda and her crew seem to be able to keep their hands off you.” Miss Worthing laughed. “I’m assuming that little fiasco in the stables was Amanda’s idea; I can’t see Kathy volunteering and I would certainly hope you have more sense.

“But that’s different.” Jim countered. “Aman… Err... Miss Fforbes and her friends aren’t interested in me; they just want a victim to play with. Someone who can't fight back.” He looked away in embarrassment.

“And Mrs Johnson?” Miss Worthing queried.

“She’s just playing with me as well.” Jim replied. “She’s not mean or vicious like the girls and it can be fun playing with her but she doesn’t want me, she's not interested in Jim Broad, anyone will do as long as they're willing, it's all just a game to her, a bit of fun, a nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“And are you 'willing'?” Miss Worthing queried.

“I was ordered to do whatever she asked; I didn't have that much choice in the matter.” Jim gently reminded Miss Worthing. The look on her face told him that he was close to overstepping the mark so he turned back to the bales. With a final shove he picked up the last one and pushed it into place before leaning on his pitchfork, panting slightly.

Miss Worthing looked him over as if weighing something up. “Is that you finished for the night?”She said eventually.

“Yes, that’s everything, unless, of course, you have something else for me to do.”

“No, not at all. Look, you’re all dusty. Why don’t you take a shower before you go home? Use the one in the stable block, the one off the staff room.” Miss Worthing suggested brightly.

Jim picked up his tee shirt from the bale where he’d put it and thought it over. The dust and sweat had combined to make him all grimy and a shower would be just the job to freshen him up. Although he used the washroom attached to the staffroom when he needed to use the toilet he hadn’t thought of using the shower, or indeed, the staffroom itself. He’d been kept far too busy and the tack room had become his de-facto office.

“Thank you, Miss Worthing” He said. “I’d like that.”

“Get yourself over there then. I’ll fetch a towel for you.”

Jim went to the washroom and ran the shower, adjusting the water until it was warm rather than hot. Then he stripped off and stepped into the cubical. As the water cascaded over him he was in heaven, feeling refreshed as the cares of the day washed away along with the dust and the dirt. There was soap and hair shampoo so he was completely clean by the time he had finished and, slightly reluctantly, he stepped out.

“Is that better?” Miss Worthing said as she held out a white fluffy towel. Jim jumped back in embarrassment and doubled up, trying to cover his groin with his hands.

“Don’t be such a silly.” Miss Worthing chided. “After all, there’s nothing I haven’t seen before, or have you forgotten? Now stand up straight and dry yourself off.”

Reluctantly Jim straightened up and took the couple of steps over to where Miss Worthing stood so that he could take the towel. How could he explain the difference between their earlier games in Mrs Johnson’s garden and this? Indeed, what was the difference? Why did he feel so shy? What was it about this situation that made it so much more awkward for him than earlier that day?

Outwardly Miss Worthing gave every sign of being completely relaxed standing there talking whilst Jim towelled himself off, totally naked; however there was an air about her, the way she watched him and everything he did, that unsettled him. He finished himself off and, folding the towel, placed it on a chair.

“Now, let’s have a look at that cage of yours.” Miss Worthing said. She sat down and motioned Jim to come and stand in front of him. “Yes, there seems to be quite a bit of soreness, quite a bit of red skin. It’s a good job I brought some cream; that will sort things out. It would be a shame if you couldn’t wear it any more.” She smiled up at him.

She produced a tube of cream from her pocket and, after squeezing a generous amount onto the tips of her fingers, proceeded to rub it gently into around the base of his penis and testicles, the places where the cage had rubbed and chafed. Although she was totally matter of fact about it the simple fact that her fingers were handling his penis was a tremendous turn on and Jim couldn’t help but get hard, well, as hard as he could get with his penis so constrained. Miss Worthing pretended not to notice.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Miss Worthing said as she finished. She picked up the towel, wiped her hands on it and headed for the door. “See you in the morning. Don’t be late.”

Jim stared after her, mesmerised. What had just happened? Something? Nothing? Still wondering he got dressed, locked up and left for the night.

*******

The next day the weather continued fine and the news broadcasts were full of stories of heat waves and hosepipe bans. Jim had quite a spring in his step as he made his way through the lanes to the stables. What had started as a simple way to spend the summer holidays was turning out to be so much more. For someone as naive and sexually inexperienced as he had been the last few days had been quite an eye opener and he wondered what he had in store for him today.

Just thinking about it made his penis swell and he reached into his pants to readjust it as it reached the constraints of the cage. He was very ambivalent about the cage. Every night as he lay in bed, and oft between times as well, he knew the frustration of wishing he could play with himself and not being able to. On the other hand the cage was part and parcel of his relationship with Miss Worthing, a relationship that he was finding increasingly rewarding.

He strolled up the driveway and let himself into the stable block. Morning Dew was waiting patiently as he got her saddled up and he even had time to tidy round a bit before putting a quick coat of polish on Miss Worthing’s boots and preparing himself for the morning inspection.

When she arrived, spot on seven-o-clock as usual, Miss Worthing seemed to share Jim’s good mood. She smiled as she greeted Jim and, taking his caged penis with the tips of her fingers, gently moved it from side to side, inspecting the places where the soreness had been.

“Ah, that’s so much better; the redness has almost completely gone. However I think we’ll keep using the cream for a day or two. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Miss Worthing.” Jim replied. “Thank you, Miss Worthing.” Whatever his actual thoughts Jim was so distracted by the play of her fingers on his scrotum that he would have agreed to anything at that point.

“Good, good.” She purred. “Now, let’s get on. I've wasted more than enough time already.”

She sat down and extended her foot expectantly. Jim jumped down from the box and, without waiting to pull up his trousers, knelt down before her and eased off her shoes ready to put on her boots. It struck him how quickly this had become normal, how natural it was to be kneeling in front of this woman with his trousers and boxers around his ankles. As ever the sole of her boot ‘accidentally’ brushed against him and he felt the surge of blood as his penis strained against its constraint.

However this flirting, if that’s what it was, didn’t last long and Miss Worthing was up and off on her morning ride. Jim pulled up his trousers and reached for the broom. If the stables weren’t spotless before she returned he knew there would be trouble. He was still sweeping when she returned. She led Morning Dew up to him and handed over the reins.

“The garden needs weeding.” She said. “Get the horses out in the paddock and finish off here then come on up to the house and I’ll show you what needs doing.”

That morning everything seemed to go slow or go wrong and it was well gone eleven before Jim had finished off and got everything ship-shape. Slightly nervous about the delay he made his way to the house and around the back to the walled garden. There was no one there so he knocked on the back door of the house. After a moment or two Miss Worthing appeared wearing a loose cotton wrap dress that, at mid thigh length, made the most of her long, shapely legs. Jim couldn’t help but stare.

“You took your time.” Miss Worthing scolded Jim.

“I’m sorry, Miss Worthing.” He replied. “It’s just that…”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Now fetch that sun lounger and place it under the apple tree.” Miss Worthing pointed at the sun lounger and Jim moved it, under her direction, until it was place in the dappled shade from the tree. Then he was ordered to fetch a table from inside the house and to bring everything that he found on it. This took two trips as, apart from the table itself, there was a long drink, a copy of the Paris edition of Vogue, some nail varnish, some nail varnish remover and a package of cotton wool pads. He brought it all through and laid it out ready for Miss Worthing who was already laid full length upon the lounger.

“My toenail varnish needs renewing. Do you think you can manage that?” Miss Worthing asked.

“Of course, Miss Worthing.” Jim replied.

“Well, get on with it.” Miss Worthing picked up her magazine and, lifting up one knee to rest it upon, started to read. Jim sorted out the nail varnish remover and the pads and, going to the foot of the lounger and kneeling down before it, he set to work. Somehow working on her bare feet, as opposed to her riding boots, was completely different and, if possible, even more enticing. There was a delicacy about them, a femininity, that spoke to something deep with Jim and, as he held her foot in his hand he felt as if he were holding something precious. Brushing this fanciful notion to one side he set to work, gently rubbing away the old varnish, cleaning up the nails and preparing them for the new coat. Then, taking extraordinary care, he opened the bottle of varnish and, with the little brush attached to the cap, smoothed on the fresh coat. Miss Worthing had chosen a burgundy red and Jim thought that the colour set off her feet perfectly.

Then it was time for the other foot. Jim coughed discretely and Miss Worthing looked up from her magazine, saw what was happening and swapped over. Again he cleaned off the old polish and again he applied the new, until, completely finished, he held her foot in his hand wondering what came next. Almost without thinking he bent forward and kissed the tips of her toes.

“Careful, you’ll smudge them.” Miss Worthing said.

“I’m sorry. Miss Worthing.” Jim replied. Gently he put her foot down on the sun lounger.

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t kiss; that was very… thoughtful of you. It’s just that you should wait for the varnish to dry. Try this one.” Miss Worthing swapped over again, holding out her other foot a few inches above the lounger. Jim took it in his hands and bent over to kiss it.

“Good, very good. I like it that you show some... respect. Now don’t slobber.” Miss Worthing returned to her magazine.

Keeping her command not to slobber in mind Jim kissed at first just the tips of her toes but, growing bolder, he roamed ever further. As he was kissing the underside of her big toe he felt it flex and, taking that as his cue, slipped it inside his mouth sucking gently. He could tell that, although the magazine was still between them and he couldn’t see her face, she was no longer reading, her attention was fully upon what he was doing. Eventually she put the magazine down and reached for her drink.

“You like doing that, don’t you?” She asked between sips.

“It’s an honour, Miss Worthing.” Jim replied.

“An honour?” Miss Worthing queried.

“Yes, Miss; thank you for letting me kiss them.” Jim hadn’t been thinking when he’d replied, the words had just come out but, now, knelt at her feet, it did feel right, it was indeed an honour.

“How sweet.” Miss Worthing smiled down at him. “As a reward you may go into the kitchen and find the skin cream that's on the counter. Bring it back out and I’ll allow you to give my feet a massage. Oh, and lose the tee shirt.”

Jim hurried to obey. He found the cream and rushed back out with it. He knelt back down again and, after quickly whipping off his tee shirt, squeezed some cream onto the palm of his hand. As he worked it in he was careful to be as gentle as possible but Miss Worthing admonished him, reminding him that it was supposed to be a massage so he changed tack and, working her foot between his hands he sensuously squeezed and pampered and was delighted when she purred with pleasure as a result. She took her free foot and rested it on his chest, idly rubbing her big toe back and forth across his nipple. Jim could feel the growing tension, there was an electricity between them as both enjoyed the sensuous pleasures from the ministrations of the other one.

In the end it was Miss Worthing who broke the tension.

“That’s enough.” She said sitting up and pulling her feet away. “I can’t lie here all day; nor can you. Off you go; I’m sure there’s plenty of work waiting for you.”

“But the weeding?” Jim queried.

“Another time.” Miss Worthing replied. “Now be off with you.”

As Jim scrambled to his feet and put on his tee shirt Miss Worthing lay back on the lounger and watched him, a bemused smile playing across her lips.