Stable Boy Ch. 12

After that the days settled into a pattern. However, behind this pattern there were a number of significant changes taking place. At Jim's morning inspection Miss Worthing was less and less circumspect about what she was doing and took delight in getting Jim all worked up with no possibility for relief. Whether it was the tips of her fingers playing with his testes or the sole of her boot rubbing against his groin she never missed giving him what she called 'his morning thrill' before heading off for her ride on Morning Dew. After her ride Miss Worthing was increasingly leaving the stables in Jim's sole care. He was quickly getting to know the various girls, their likes and dislikes and was more and more able to anticipate problems before they arose. However the stables were not the sole extent of his duties; daily he would report to the house where Miss Worthing would have some housework set aside for him. Just as he was learning his way around the stables so he was also learning his way around the house; where the various cleaning materials were kept, for example and where to find fresh bed linen. Miss Worthing would often come by and check on him as he was working; typically she would wait until he was elbow deep in washing up before coming up behind him and reaching around him to slide her hand under the waistband of his panties.

Around the stables she was far more prudent and the casual observer wouldn't be aware of anything untoward. Jim was always polite and quick to obey but to the outsider he was little more than a keen and diligent employee. Most of the girls were far too wrapped up in themselves and their horses to notice anyway. Mrs Johnson, the only other person who was really in the know, was a regular visitor as she dropped off or picked up Kirsty but, however much she retained her amusement over Jim's circumstances and would often rib him about it, she too never referred to anything other than stable matters whenever anyone was in earshot.

Kathy never missed a day, come rain, come shine; Truffles must have been the most pampered pony in the stables. As often as not Miss Thornton would put in an appearance shortly after four o'clock and Jim was getting in the habit of getting Morning Dew ready for her. Miss Thornton seemed to be bringing out a side of Kathy which had so far lain dormant. It wasn't just that she was happier, brighter and more self-assured, she was also dressing better, taking more care about her appearance and a really pretty butterfly was emerging from the previous rather dull chrysalis. As for Amanda and her friends, they were evidently too 'busy' elsewhere for much of the time which meant that they seldom rode their horses and Jim got the added bonus of getting to take them out for exercise.

As soon as six o'clock rolled round Jim would chivvy the last stragglers out of the yard and gratefully close the gate behind them. Then, after checking round and locking up, he would head up to the house where he would do some housework as Miss Worthing prepared their evening meal. Jim had even suggested that he should take a turn with the cooking but, as his experience was limited to beans on toast and Miss Worthing was an accomplished cook, she declined his offer.

Whilst his panties and apron, not to mention his obvious deference, were clear markers of the dynamics of their relationship the two of them were becoming increasingly relaxed around each other and would discuss the management of the stables as they sat together across the kitchen table. Miss Worthing relied on Jim as her eyes and ears, asking about what was going on, which girls were really keen and which were just going through the motions. And it wasn't just work they discussed; the more they talked together the more they found they had in common and they would share opinions on events from the news or local gossip.

After they had eaten and Jim had cleared away they would go down to the barn to practice their routine. The pony boots which had seemed so alien were becoming more and more natural and the plug holding the tail in his butt was causing less discomfort; in fact he rather enjoyed the full feeling it gave him. Mrs Johnson would turn up maybe three times a week and they were getting quite good, quite attune to keeping in step and, more and more, Miss Worthing would grudgingly admit that she was pleased by their performance. On evenings when Mrs Johnson wasn't available Miss Worthing would hitch Jim up to the sulky and have him practice pulling her around the arena. As an incentive she told him that the best time was two minutes fifteen seconds for five laps and that she would give him one stroke of the crop for every second he was over that. Young and fit as he was, after the repeated trials, he still ended up most nights with a tally of fifteen to twenty strokes. Miss Worthing would bend him over the workbench in the tack room and, after lifting up his tail, give him sharp reminders to try harder next time. She was nowhere near as brutal as Amanda had been but even gentle strokes of the crop stung like crazy leaving Jim's buttocks twin globes of glowing heat.

Then it was time for the wash down which was evidently just as much a part of the ritual. Exactly what happened varied greatly depending on Miss Worthing's mood. Sometimes, especially when Mrs Johnson was not available, the wash was long and sensuous with Miss Worthing spending considerable time soaping his genitals, teasing him mercilessly until he would lose control. This seemed to amuse her greatly and she would admonish him with mock severity for his lack of self-discipline, knowing full well that only a statue could have resisted.

Then, if Mrs Johnson were present, he would be dismissed and the two women would head off leaving him behind. However, on the days that she was away it was often Jim who was ordered back to the house where Miss Worthing, after changing out of her jodhpurs and blouse, would lie back on the sofa and get him to minister to her needs. The starting point would often be fetching her a drink, re-applying the nail varnish on her toes, or perhaps a foot massage but there was a growing understanding between them that this was mere foreplay; what they both desired was for Jim to worship his goddess in the way that felt most natural, on his knees before her as his tongue worked its special magic on the centre of her pleasure.

But the biggest change, the one which made everything different, was, ironically, prompted by some casual words from Jim's mum. He'd arrived home late as usual and was making his way upstairs when she came out of the lounge and called out to him.

"Is that you, Jim?" she said to his retreating back. "I've put your clean clothes on your bed. Sometimes I think that's the only reason you come home; for all the time you're spending at the stables you might as well be living there."

"Thanks, mum," Jim called back and, when he got to his room there, as promised was his weekly wash all cleaned and folded. However his mum's words kept running through his mind. '...you might as well be living there.' She was right, he only came home to sleep and, for everything else he was, effectively, living at the stables. There was the camp bed in the staff room which was never used. With a little organisation...

The next day he waited until they were relaxing over their midday meal before broaching the subject with Miss Worthing.

"Please, Miss Worthing, I was wondering...," he began.

"What were you wondering?" she asked.

"The bed, the one in the staff room, is it ever used?"

"No, not really. I slept down there the night that Cherry Blossoms foaled but, no, not normally. What makes you ask?" She was intrigued.

"I was wondering if... Well, my mum was saying... I mean, if the bed's not used..."

"Come on, spit it out," Miss Worthing urged. "I won't bite, well, not unless you get lucky."

"Perhaps I might use it," Jim said finally. "I mean, I'm practically living here as it is and it makes sense..."

"That's not a bad idea," Miss Worthing conceded after thinking it over for a moment or two, "yes, not bad at all. When had you got in mind to move in?"

"Whenever suits you," Jim replied. "I mean, if I could have an hour off this afternoon I could nip home and get my stuff then, move in tonight."

"Gosh, you are keen," Miss Worthing laughed, "but why not; it will be nice having you on the spot, so to speak. Just keep the place tidy, that's all I ask."

"Of course, Miss Worthing," Jim replied.

That afternoon he nipped home and, after explaining the situation to his mother, packed a holdall with some clothes and essentials and was back at the stables within an hour. He commandeered one of the lockers and, mindful of Miss Worthing's admonishment to keep the place tidy, he made sure everything was put away neatly.

During the evening meal and whilst preparing for the training session Miss Worthing had said nothing about Jim's new sleeping arrangements and, this being one of the occasions when Mrs Johnson was present, when the session was over he was left to tidy up the stables whilst they returned to the house. With this completed he went to the staff room, undressed and got into bed. It felt strange sleeping in the stables, he could hear strange noises from the main block; the horses moving about, for example, or a rustling from the hayloft which reminded him to check the bait in the rodent traps. He was lying in bed reading when he heard the roar of Mrs Johnson's X5 pulling away from the yard. He glanced at the clock, it was nigh on eleven and, even without the walk to work, he still had to get up early so he put his book down, switched off the lights and rolled over to sleep.

Ten minutes later he was just drifting off when he heard the creak of the door and, in the almost complete darkness, sensed, rather than saw a shape come over to the bed.

"What...," he started.

"Shh...," Miss Worthing's voice came out of the darkness and she laid a finger across his lips, reinforcing the demand for silence. He felt the covers being drawn back and, working by touch, Miss Worthing's fingers felt out his groin and the padlock holding the cage around his penis. After a little fumbling it fell away and, once released from it's bonds his penis sprung free, stiff and hard. Miss Worthing got onto the bed and knelt, straddling his groin and, taking his penis in her hands she held it upright before shifting forward slightly and, after a little resistance, sliding it deep inside her. She leant forwards and placed her hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the bed.

It was almost surreal; the only light was a feint glow coming from the half open door and, in the near total darkness, Miss Worthing was a vague shadow looming over him. Neither of them spoke so it was almost completely quiet making the sound of their breathing and the occasional creak of the bed seem extra loud. All this heightened the sense of touch, the smooth silky feel of Miss Worthing's gown and the smooth silky feel of her flesh a counterpoint to the warm grip of her internal muscles as she moved back and forth in a slow steady rhythm. Jim lay there; he didn't dare move and he'd been told not to speak; his focus was controlling his desires, ensuring that he was as hard and strong inside her as he could be. He could feel the tension within her rising; he could hear her breathing getting shallower; her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh; he was fighting so many urges, the urge to move, to return her movements with a thrust of his own, the urge to cry out, the urge above all to come, to climax, to relieve the intense pressure in his groin. At last he could feel her nearing her climax, her muscles tensing, the urgency of her thrusts increasing until, with an animal growl from the back of her throat she thrust her self down upon him, once, twice three times, the muscles of her vagina clamping round his penis urging him to explode within her and sucking his juices from him.

Shaking from the intensity of the moment, she slumped forward and for five minutes or so they lay like that as they shared the post coital glow, recovering their breath and letting the emotions subside as Jim's penis became flaccid inside her. In the dark and the quiet there was a shared sense of bliss and, without a single word being passed Jim felt closer to her than he had ever been. Then, when she had fully recovered, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and, easing herself off him stood up and left.

Jim took a few minutes to recover and make sure she was gone before reaching for the light and turning it on. The bedclothes were all over the place and his groin was a sticky mess; moreover his penis was free and unencumbered as she hadn't put his cage back on. He got up and went to the bathroom and ran himself a quick shower. As he enjoyed the luxury of soaping his unconstrained genitals he wondered what he should do about it. He could well understand why Miss Worthing had not replaced the cage; it had been awkward enough to remove in the dark, putting it back would have been impossible without putting the light on and that would have ruined... everything. He knew this reprieve was temporary and it would be replaced as soon as possible but he could sleep one night unfettered, couldn't he? After all she would never know. He dried himself and returned to the staff room. As he tidied the bedcovers the cage and it's padlock fell to the floor. He picked them up and turned them over in his hands. She would never know, but he would. Smiling to himself he reached down and refastened it around his penis; his mark of belonging, his mark of being owned.

A few days later Miss Worthing was leaning on the fence of the paddock watching Jim arrange the jumps for the afternoon sessions when Mrs Johnson arrived and came over to stand beside her.

"Keeping your eye on Jim?" Mrs Johnson jested.

"Just making sure everything is as it should be," Miss Worthing replied. "Not that I need to; he's getting to be very useful around the place. I'm beginning to wonder how I coped without him."

"By the way you keep looking at him it not just the stables where he's 'very useful'. He's put a sparkle in your eye I haven't seen in ages. Nothing like having a good shag on tap to keep a girl happy, eh?" Mrs Johnson laughed.

"Michelle! Language!" Miss Worthing retorted, "and what makes you think we're.... Anyway, it's not like that. He's too young; it wouldn't work."

"What makes me think you're doing the deed? The smile on your face every time you look at him, that's what. But, tell me, is it really age that's the problem? If he wasn't too young, would it work then?" Mrs Johnson asked.

"He's very sweet; really, he's devoted and it's very flattering to be worshipped like that and, OK, I'll admit it, the sex is great, but... Oh, it's complicated. When I took him on for the summer I thought it would be a laugh; we'd tease him a bit, give the lad a time he'd never forget and then, come September, back he goes to college and it's all done and dusted. Now, well, I'm not sure what I want any more and as for September.... Do you know, if he weren't going back to college I'd offer him a job as stable manager starting tomorrow? He's worked wonders around the place; I've never had it running so smoothly.

"Stable manager? Is that all you'd offer him?" Mrs Johnson asked. "I get the impression that a rather more... personal position might be on offer. Something more along the lines of chief toady and boot licker."

"Oh, he'd be more than that, far more than that." Miss Worthing replied fervently before she caught herself "Jim!" she called out. "That fence, it's a bit high for the younger girls. Drop it down a notch, will you?" And, with that, the subject was closed.

The subject may have been closed but that didn't stop Miss Worthing mulling it over. She could think of a million practical reasons why she shouldn't get too involved with Jim, the age gap being by far the biggest. The practical woman inside her would argue that she should be scaling back their relationship, that their involvement would only lead to heartache but there was another side, one which simply wasn't listening, the one that couldn't resist the late night visits to the stables where the silent trysts fed a need deep, deep inside her.

But it wasn't just the sex, good as it was. The more she got to know Jim the more she was discovering that hidden behind Jim the stable boy was Jim the man. Yes, he was delightfully submissive and loved being on his knees before her as much as she liked having him there but didn't mean he was a wimp, far from. There had been a number of incidents around the normal running of the stables where he had stepped in and taken charge, acting with a maturity and compassion that belied his years. He had a strength of character, a basic decency, which she was learning to admire and respect and he was now far more than just a toy boy; he was a friend, a companion, above all he was someone she didn't want to hurt by promising more than she was prepared to deliver. Furthermore the thought of losing him at the end of the summer, the thought that he might find someone else to submit to, the thought of him submitting to anyone else, ever... maybe he wasn't the only one who might get hurt. Her head said that she should cool things down, her heart said something rather different. For once the usually decisive woman was stumped; she didn't quite know what she should do for the best.

As the Meet grew closer Miss Worthing had Jim polish up the sulky until it shone and the arena was swept and tidied until if was perfect. As most of the indoor events were in the winter Jim had a cover story of summer maintenance but none of the girls seemed to notice as they were too wound up in their ponies. With Mrs Brown back from her holidays there was less housework to do and Jim was tasked with polishing up the pony tack until it was perfect. Then, one Thursday morning, Miss Worthing announced that the Meet was that very night and she spent some time down in the barn, helping to check everything over and setting up the judges table with a microphone for the PA.

"Please, Miss Worthing," Jim asked. "What exactly is going to happen? Why are we going to all this trouble?"

"Let's keep that a surprise," Miss Worthing returned. "It's more fun that way."

For the rest of the day Miss Worthing seemed a little anxious and she was endlessly checking up with Jim that he had got everything absolutely ready. Then, at six o'clock, she was there chivvying the girls away and making sure the stables looked their best. Then she sent Jim to the house to fetch a large hamper and, when he returned she had arranged a table along the edge of the arena. Jim put the hamper on one end and she started unpacking whilst he was sent back for yet another hamper. By the time he had returned the table was covered with a white linen cloth and there were several plates of canapés dotted about. The second hamper contained bottlers of wine and assorted glasses and Jim was sent back once again for ice for the buckets so that the various white wines might be suitably cooled.

"There, that's not too bad." Miss Worthing conceded. "Now, let's get you sorted out."

She led Jim to the tack room where, as was now becoming second nature, he stripped off as she laid out his harness. They worked together fitting his boots, harness and bridle and in no time he was bent over the workbench waiting for his tail to be fitted. Jim spread his legs and relaxed his sphincter, offering himself up, ready for that feeling of being stretched as the widest part of the plug was inserted.

"Hmm... This is getting a little too easy," Miss Worthing commented. "Maybe it's time to move up to a bigger plug. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"