Stable Boy

As Jim made his way back to the stable block he was, once again, left wondering what had just happened. No one could have missed the sexual tension that there had been between them, in his mind he could still feel Miss Worthing's big toe rubbing against his nipple and his penis, crushed in its cage, was letting him know just how aroused he'd been. But more than that, it wasn't just the way he felt about it, he could have sworn Miss Worthing was getting turned on too. Why then, why had she stopped; why had she left him like this, a coiled ball of frustration with no way of getting release.

Back at the house, Celia Worthing chuckled to herself as she pottered around the kitchen, putting some lunch together. She'd seen the look on Jim's face as he had massaged her feet; how he had looked up at her with those big puppy dog eyes, the look of worship, the look of adoration and, even more, the look of disappointment when she had sent him away. Sure he was young but still it amused her to play with him like this and to see the pained expression on his face when she had dismissed him. Poor little thing, perhaps she should have let him have some more -- no, keep 'em wanting, that was her motto.

But it wasn't quite as simple as that she admitted to herself as she tossed together some mixed leaves for her salad. Jim wasn't the only one who'd been left wanting. The memory of this dripping wet boy emerging from the shower the previous evening crossed her mind. He might be young, he might be inexperienced but there was something about him that got to her. And it wasn't just the physical side; he was a nice lad and good to have around. That he was a little over eager had been demonstrated by his keenness to play as Michelle Johnson's puppy but, if that could be kept under control he certainly had the skills to satisfy and those he didn't have, well, he could be taught. 'Yes, indeed.' She thought to herself. 'I'm going to have some fun with him this summer and after that... who knows.'

By three o'clock Jim was far too busy to be bothered by anything other than getting ready for the afternoon. He'd swept, he'd polished and he was quietly proud of the way the stables looked. The first to arrive was, as ever, Mrs Johnson dropping off Kirsty and her friends. As Jim helped with the saddling he thought to himself that Kirsty must be the keenest equestrienne the place had. Mrs Johnson stood to one side and watched but beyond acknowledging Jim's polite 'Good afternoon, Mrs Johnson.' it was far too busy for either of them to do anything more and, once her offspring was mounted and heading for the paddock, she got back in her car and drove off.

At four o'clock some of the older girls started to arrive. Jim was relieved to see that Amanda and her friends weren't amongst them. Kathy turned up a little later but she pointedly ignored Jim and insisted on managing Truffles by herself. But, even without Amanda's interruptions, Jim was kept busy enough with all the other riders that, before he knew it, it was seven-thirty and he was starting to pack up for the night.

"Is that it? Are we all done for the day?" Miss Worthing asked as she came up to Jim who was checking that all the stall doors were properly closed.

"Nearly finished, Miss Worthing," Jim replied.

"Good. I'm quite pleased with how you've settled in here. It's all going to change from tomorrow, of course. Today was the last day of the school term and from now on we will have clients here from dawn to dusk," Miss Worthing laughed, "well, they would be if they could but they're limited to between nine in the morning and six at night. Even so you'll find that we don't have the days to ourselves the way we have had this week."

"Of course, Miss Worthing," Jim agreed.

"But that just means we'll have to make the most of what time we do have, doesn't it? Now then, we need to re-apply the cream, make sure that soreness stays under control. Come along; get along to your box in the tack room." Miss Worthing took the riding crop she was carrying and, playfully flicking at Jim's rear end, drove him to the tack room where he climbed on the box and, without having to be told, dropped his trousers and boxers. Miss Worthing took the tube of cream from her pocket and, squeezing some onto the tips of her fingers, started to massage it in around the base of his genitals.

"You like me doing this, don't you?" Miss Worthing looked up and gave Jim a smile.

"Oh, yes. Yes, please, Miss Worthing," Jim replied hoarsely. Given the state of his penis as it swelled within its cage he could hardly deny it.

"And am I a cruel bitch for keeping you all caged up?" Miss Worthing enquired sweetly.

"Oh no!" Jim surprised himself with his vehemence.

"You seem very certain." Miss Worthing gave Jim's testes a little squeeze.

"It's just...," Jim stopped. How could he explain how he felt when he didn't even know himself? Yes, of course it was 'cruel' of Miss Worthing to tease him like this, of course the discomfort of his poor penis squeezed into its cage was only just bearable but, and this was the crux of the matter, the only thing that would have hurt more than the teasing was if she were to stop. There was something about the loss of control, about offering himself up to this magnificent woman that spoke to a need deep within him. He didn't understand it, there was no way he could explain it, but he'd never felt any compulsion like this before.

"Please, Miss...," he tried again, "please, I...." The steady play of her fingers, stroking, caressing his genitals was not helping. There was a feeling that he was on the brink of exploding, that, caged or not, he would lose control and come.

"Let's see if this makes it any easier," Miss Worthing said. She gave him another little squeeze, took a step or two back, and pointed at the floor in front of her. Jim, feeling like he was in some sort of dream, got down off the box and knelt down.

"Now then, let's try again, lets see if we can get this sorted out," Miss Worthing said. "Is that your place, down there on your knees?"

"Yes, Miss," Jim agreed.

"And to make sure we completely understand each other, your place is on your knees in front of me; is that so?"

"Yes, Miss," Jim's heart was racing.

"And not at anyone else's feet. You wouldn't, for example, have any little hankering to be someone else's puppy dog?" Miss Worthing asked.

"No, Miss. Not unless you ordered me to be so," Jim replied.

"No, Miss, indeed. You're mine, and mine alone, aren't you?" There was an edge of steel in Miss Worthing's voice.

"Yes, Miss," Jim confirmed.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now we've got that sorted, now you know where your place is, make sure you don't ever forget it." Miss Worthing turned towards the door. "Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow." And, laving the hapless Jim still kneeling on the floor, she turned and left. Jim was once again left wondering what was happening. What was this hold she had over him, why was it he was so quick to bow before her. He felt doubly frustrated; his penis threatened to burst its cage and every fibre craved relief but more, much more than that, why, oh why did Miss Worthing leave him hanging like this. He wanted so much to show her that he could be, would be, everything and anything she wanted, if only she'd give him the chance.

When Jim got home that night he was, as ever, too late to share his evening meal with the rest of his family but his mother had plated his up and a few seconds in the microwave was all that it required. He was sitting at the kitchen table wolfing it down when the front doorbell went.

"Hello Miss Worthing," Jim heard his mother say once she had answered it. "Jim's in the kitchen, I'll fetch him for you."

"Please don't trouble yourself," Miss Worthing replied. "I'm just dropping off this for him. I won't stop; I've left my engine running. Goodnight."

"OK, then. Goodnight." His mother returned and, moments later she appeared in the kitchen carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

"Miss Worthing dropped this off for you," she said.

"Thanks mum," Jim replied. He could tell his mum was curious and he had it half open when a glimpse of pink lace gave him second thoughts. Maybe it would be better opened in private. "It's just some stuff for tomorrow," he bluffed.

As soon as he had finished his supper he put the plates in the dishwasher and went upstairs to his room. He tore the brown paper off the parcel to reveal a bundle of pink satin and lace. As he separated it out he saw that it was a collection of panties, each and every one decidedly feminine. Although they were clean they were not new and Jim guessed that Miss Worthing had sorted out some of her older pairs. They certainly had her sense of style and class. A piece of paper fell out of the bundle and he picked it up and read it.

No more boxers. CW

Blessing the presence of mind that had kept him from opening the package at the kitchen table and wondering just how he was going to keep this from his mum he put them away, hiding them at the bottom of his desk draw. However, before he went to sleep, he got them out again and laid them out on the bed. One pair in particular called to him and he slipped them on. The fit was a bit awkward over the bulge of his caged penis but they were definitely wearable. He looked at himself in his mirror; somehow he looked a curious mixture of vulnerable and ridiculous. He had half a mind to wear them to bed but he needed them fresh in the morning so he slipped them off and hid them away again.

The next morning Jim got up, grabbed a quick bite of breakfast, and headed down the lanes to New Farm. It was an odd feeling, knowing that he was wearing delicate feminine panties and no one else would know -- with the notable exception of Miss Worthing, of course. This was his first Saturday at the stables and he knew enough to know that it was going to be busy.

However, busy or not, Miss Worthing was still there to inspect him at seven o'clock sharp. She smiled to herself as, glancing down at his feet, she saw the pink panties puddled around his ankles; not that she'd really expected otherwise. However it was a busy day and she had to get on. She had had a good look at the skin at the base of his penis and commented on how well the cream was working before she told Jim to pull up his panties so that she could see how they looked on him.

"There, they fit perfectly," she smiled at him. "What do you say?"

"Thank you, Miss Worthing."

"Yes, very sweet; I left you seven pairs so you don't have any excuse for not having a clean pair on every day. Make sure I never find you wearing anything else."

"Of course, Miss Worthing. Just one thing...," he added nervously.

"Yes?"

"It's about getting them washed...," Jim really didn't want to raise this but it had been worrying him. "I can't exactly put them in the washing basket at home..."

"Don't be a silly; they'll need hand washing anyway so it would be best if you were to do them here; use the sink in the utility room. Maybe, if you were to wash mine then you could do yours afterwards...," Miss Worthing said pensively, as if this had just occurred to her. "Once they were dry you could iron them as well."

"Thank you, Miss Worthing," Jim said with relief, "I knew you would think of something."

Miss Worthing could barely suppress a chuckle over how easily Jim had been recruited to wash and iron her underwear. She sat down and held out her foot, ready for Jim to put on her boots. Indeed, she was still chuckling inside as she mounted Morning Dew and rode off into the paddock.

It was barely nine o'clock when the first girls arrived. Whereas the midweek crowd just wanted to ride at weekends the girls wanted to be involved in the full range of stable duties; Jim guessed it would remain so for the whole of the summer holidays and made a mental note to ensure that the tack room was always suitably tidy. It's one of life's oddities that a teenage girl who wouldn't dream of tidying her bedroom will quite happily spend all day mucking out her pony's stall and Jim's time was taken up with keeping track of what was where, who had what, and which girl was the last one to borrow the polish. What was noticeable was that of Amanda's friends only Kathy made an appearance so Jim was left to look after their horses.

At four o'clock Mrs Johnson came to pick up Kirsty but, before doing so, sought out Jim, finding him in the tack room untangling a bundle of reins and strapping which had been dumped there.

"Hello, puppy," she called out.

"Hello," Jim quickly glanced around, making sure none of the girls were within earshot, "Madam."

"Hmm... Celia keeping you busy, I see. Too busy to come and have another play session, perhaps?"

"Please, Mrs Johnson, you'll have to ask Miss Worthing about that," Jim replied cautiously.

"Will I? Has she decided to keep you all to herself?" As ever Mrs Johnson seemed to treat the whole thing as a huge joke.

"I really couldn't say," Jim replied and, at that moment, Kirsty appeared killing the conversation dead.

At six o'clock, somewhat exhausted, Jim went into the tack room to take five minutes to himself. He felt like he'd hardly stopped all day. His packed lunch had been eaten in quick bites between sorting out the endless minor problems that the busy stables kept throwing at him.

"What's this slacking?" Jim hadn't heard Miss Worthing enter the stables and now, here she was standing at the tack room door.

"I'm sorry Miss Worthing," Jim stuttered, leaping out of the chair.

"And I'm bored with traipsing all the way over here every evening to check up on you. I'll still check up on you from time to time but in future I want you to report to the house when you finish for the night," Miss Worthing continued. "Come around to the back door and knock before entering. Oh, and I'm not having you tracking mud all over my kitchen. My house is not the place for work clothes so, once inside, you will wear nothing except your panties. You can put the rest of your clothes in the log box next to the back door. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss Worthing." Jim remembered seeing a large wooden affair used for storing logs which had a hinged lid on the top. The thought of entering Miss Worthing's house was scary enough, let alone doing wearing nothing but the panties but, scary or not, he once again felt the familiar discomfort as his penis swelled against its cage.

"Good, now it's inspection time." Using her crop Miss Worthing prodded at Jim's backside and, herding him before her walked him around the stables. Mostly Jim's hard work paid off but, from time to time, Miss Worthing would find something not up to her exacting standards. When they had finished they returned to the tack room.

"Well, I suppose that wasn't too bad," Miss Worthing conceded. "But if there's any more slacking I'll be forced to," she flicked the crop across Jim's backside, "take steps. Goodnight; sleep tight."

Jim watched as she walked away, his mind spinning and his left buttock smarting slightly from where the crop had landed. The image of him naked except for the panties, kneeling in front to Miss Worthing as she prepared to 'take steps' swam before him and his feelings about it were very ambivalent. It was very scary, there was no doubt about it; he was getting deeper and deeper into something over which he had no control. On the other hand... his constricted penis reminded him of just how much there was an 'other hand'.

Sunday was very much a repeat of Saturday. Jim woke early and, choosing the next pair of clean panties, dressed and went in to work. Miss Worthing's inspection was as thorough as usual and she declared that there was no more need for the cream, for a while at least. By nine o'clock the stable yard was in chaos as various parents dropped off their offspring and the clamour of young female voices filled the stable block. For the third day in a row there was no sign of Amanda and Jim was beginning to wonder if she'd given up or maybe gone off on her summer holidays. It gave him the excuse to saddle up Dark Pleasure and take him out for a gallop. Whatever his personal feelings about the owner there was no doubt that this was one of the finest horses in the stables and he enjoyed the freedom as he raced around the paddock, letting off steam for him as well as the horse.

At six o'clock he was shooing out the stragglers and hurrying to finish off his chores. His agitation, his desire to see what was in store for him meant that he was struggling to keep his cool as one of the girls took ages searching around for a missing glove. Finally, exasperated beyond belief, he found it for her and finally managed to lock up for the night. Then he crossed the stable yard and went round to the back of the house. Shaking slightly he took off his tee shirt and, lifting the lid of the log box, placed it inside. His trainers and socks followed and then, his nerves now like taut wires, he pushed down his trousers, rolled them up and put them too inside the box. He closed the lid and knocked on the door. Suddenly he couldn't remember whether he was to wait or go straight in. He reached out his hand for the door knob but, wracked with indecisiveness didn't turn it. Then he saw a shadow through the frosted glass; Miss Worthing had arrived. In a moment on inspiration he dropped to his knees just as the door opened.

"Very pretty, very pretty indeed," Miss Worthing smiled down at him, "now come along in." Turning her back on him she walked away and Jim followed until they were in the lounge. Miss Worthing sat down on a chaise longue and told Jim to come and stand next to her.

"Stand up straight," she urged. "Don't slouch. That's right, chin up, hands behind your back, feet slightly apart. There, that's your waiting position. Now, fetch me a drink. Make me a gin and tonic. You'll find everything in the kitchen"

Jim went into the kitchen and, as fast as he could, searched around until he found a glass, the drinks cabinet and the ice dispenser on the American fridge. He even remembered that Mrs Johnson had demanded a slice of lime in hers and, sure enough, there were limes ready and waiting in a basket on the worktops. He put the drink together and took it back to the lounge. Miss Worthing took it from him and took a sip.

"Hmm... Maybe a little less gin next time," She commented. She reached out with her free hand and started to stroke his hips and upper thighs almost as is she was stroking a dog or a cat. Idly she drew the tips of her nails across his flesh sending electric sparks through Jim's body causing him to shiver.

"Stand still. I can't be doing with fidgets," she said as her hand strayed towards his inner thigh. Softly, sensuously, she ran her fingers up and down between his legs each time never quite reaching his groin. Jim struggled to retain control as a groan of pleasure threatened to escape his lips.

"You seem very tense," Miss Worthing said, "perhaps I should stop."

"Please, please don't stop, Miss Worthing," Jim begged.

"But you're getting all excited," Miss Worthing replied as if to a small child. "Too much excitement without any relief can be bad for a young lad like yourself. Now, when did you last get relief?"

"Thursday, Miss Worthing," Jim replied. "Thursday, when we were at Mrs Johnson's house."

"So, lets see, that's Thursday, Friday, Saturday and now Sunday." Miss Worthing emphasised the count by stroking the underside of his testes through the lacy material of his panties. "Four days without relief, I'm not sure that that's good for you. Maybe, for health reasons, I should let you come; what do you think?"

"I think it's up to you, Miss Worthing." However much Jim needed to come he already knew how this game was played.

"It is indeed. But if you're going to be allowed to come then first you've got to earn it. Now get on your knees and wait there." Miss Worthing swallowed down the end of her G&T and put the empty glass on a table. Then she stood up and went towards the door. "Don't move a muscle," she said as she left, closing the door behind her.