By mid afternoon the rain had eased off and the sky was fast clearing, promising a return to the warm dry weather. Miss Worthing was cleaning round in her bedroom when she glanced out her window and saw Jim working in the yard, sweeping round and tidying. Then the black shape of Michelle Johnson's X5 pulled in and Kirsty, surely the most enthusiastic of all her customers jumped out and rushed off to the stable block. She was glad to see that Jim, as efficient as ever, had put down his broom and headed after her, putting her customers first and foremost. However, Kirsty wasn't the only one to get out of the car. She looked back to see Michelle getting out and heading across the yard towards the house. She went downstairs and opened the door for her.
"Well, well, well! A pink tracksuit!" Mrs Johnson laughed as she followed her friend through to the kitchen. "You've got the poor boy wrapped right around your little finger. I asked him the other day when he and I were next going to play and he told me that I'd have to ask you. What's up? Are you keeping this one for yourself?"
"He's..." Miss Worthing wasn't quite sure how to explain it to her friend, or even to herself for that matter.
"He's really got to you, that what he's done." Mrs Johnson was still laughing. "The great Celia Worthing smitten by a mere slip of a boy."
"I'm not smitten!" Miss Worthing was adamant.
"Well, maybe not exactly smitten but there's something about this one that's slipped under your defences; you can't fool me, I know he's far more to you than just a nice butt."
"Well, maybe..." Miss Worthing conceded. She went over and put the kettle on. "Now, let me tell you the latest. I've had a run in with Amanda Fforbes..."
The two women sat together over the kitchen table as Miss Worthing told Mrs Johnson all about the showdown and how she'd put a stop to Amanda playing with Jim.
"That proves it." Mrs Johnson said triumphantly. "You couldn't give a damn whether she hurt him or not when he started here. In fact you practically gave her carte blanche. Now you're all huffy because she wanted to brand him. This one is special, admit it."
"I just couldn't stand that little tramp throwing her weight around any longer. I'm not sure I know why I trusted her in the first place. She's got no limits, no sense of proportion. When it first came out that she liked a bit of D/s play I thought it would be fun to have a youngster around the place, maybe add some fresh blood to the pony club but she hasn't got a clue. I mean, she only put Jim in pony gear because it humiliated him; she's got no idea about real pony play and, as for branding, that's right out of order, that's completely outside the bounds of what I'll allow."
"I have to admit I never took to her, stuck up little cow. Just because her dad's made a bob or two she thinks she owns the world, I don't think she'd ever have fitted in to the club, talking of which, when's the next Meet?" Mrs Johnson asked, "and, more to the point, given your current interests, who are you going to drive, him or me?"
"I'm not sure I've made up my mind," Miss Worthing replied. "He does look pretty in pony tack and, like I said, it would be nice to have some fresh blood in the club."
"Fresh blood in the club!" Mrs Johnson echoed. "Why don't you just admit it? You fancy him like crazy and just want to shag the arse off him."
"Michelle! Honestly!" Miss Worthing was amused as much as shocked. "Do I detect a little bit of jealousy? Don't worry; I'm not going to dump you just because he's come along. I know how much a little show-off like you likes parading around, flashing her charms to all and sundry. Hey, you're part and parcel of the club; it wouldn't be the same without you." Miss Worthing paused for a moment, thinking. "Come to think of it there's nothing in the rules which says I can't have two ponies, is there? Why don't I drive the two of you, a matched pair?"
"Seeing as how it's your club and you wrote the rules you can do jut about anything you like; drive a coach and four if you can get the volunteers," Mrs Johnson pointed out. "OK, I'm game for it but what about afterwards..."
"Afterwards we'll see," Miss Worthing said firmly. "Anyway, enough chat, I should be out there, overseeing your offspring as she goes round the jumps. That's what you pay me for."
Still laughing together the two women got up from the table and went out into the yard where they separated, Miss Worthing heading for the paddock, Mrs Johnson back to her car.
As Jim chivvied the last of the girls out of the stables at six o'clock the day had settled into a perfect English evening. The rain had washed all the dust away and everything was bright and fresh. He closed the gate to the yard and made his way up to the house. When he opened the wood box to get undressed he noticed that his jeans and tee shirt were already in there, neatly folded and bone dry. Once he was down to his panties he knocked on the back door and made his way in. There was no one about so, rather than wandering around the house, he waited in the kitchen. On a sudden impulse he dropped to his knees and that's how Miss Worthing found him when she appeared a few moments later. She was wearing a full-length satin dressing gown in a rich burgundy with matching slippers and to Jim's eyes she was perfection personified.
"Ah, I thought I heard something. If it isn't my stable boy, the one who forgot to have Morning Dew ready on time this morning. Do you think I should have to put up with such behaviour?"
"No, Miss Worthing. I'm sorry, Miss Worthing." Jim hung his head; on his knees in front of this magnificent woman a confused tempest of emotions swirled within him. Part of him knew this was stupid. He'd not done anything wrong, not in any serious way, and that kneeling here in front of her wearing only pink lacy panties and a cage around his penis was pathetic and demeaning. However, this was countered by a far stronger need, a need that came from deep within him, a need that had to be here, that had to surrender, to offer himself. Part of it, most of it, was sexual and was driven direct from his groin but there was more to it than that, there was an emotional side of almost spiritual intensity that wanted to bow down and worship.
"And what do you think? Does my stable boy deserve to be punished?" Miss Worthing asked.
There was a pause as both sides realised that this marked a whole new step in their relationship. Both knew that by admitting that he 'deserved' to be punished he'd really be admitting that he 'wanted' to be punished. More and more the implicit was becoming explicit.
"Yes, Mistress," Jim replied softly. "Your stable boy deserves to be punished." There, he'd said it.
"You do indeed." Miss Worthing let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding and was suddenly brisk, business like. "Follow me."
She led Jim, still shuffling along on his knees to the lounge. There he was ordered to stand up and lean over, placing his hands flat on the surface of a leather pouffe. Miss Worthing went over to the sideboard and fetched a paddle that was laying there returning to nudge his feet apart before she was satisfied with his position. She put one hand on the small of his back and with the other she reached between his thighs and used her slender fingers to manipulate his testicles through the lacy material of his panties.
"Do you like being my stable boy?" She asked.
"Yes, Mistress," Jim croaked.
"You've got to be good if you want to be my stable boy, haven't you?" she continued, "and, if you're not good, if you don't meet my standards, you've got to be punished so that you can learn, learn to be better. You want to be better, don't you?"
"Yes. Yes please, Mistress."
"Of course you do. You want to be the best little stable boy you can be, just to please your Mistress." Miss Worthing's tone was condescending, as if she were talking to a dim child. "Now how about saying 'thank you' for all the trouble I'm taking over you."
"Thank you, Mistress," and Jim meant it, really meant it.
All the time this was going on Jim's mouth was dry and the combined pressures from his groin were a mixture of agony and ecstasy. His penis wanted to explode and the tips of Miss Worthing's fingers were sending shivers of pure pleasure coursing though him but the cage kept him cramped and constrained; the thrill of her touch was balanced by the agony of knowing that there was no certainty of any release to his mounting frustration. However, he would still far, far prefer the unreleased thrill to no thrill at all and he gave a sigh of disappointment when she let go.
THWAPP!! Jim couldn't suppress a squeak as the first stroke landed. This wasn't the agony that he had suffered under Amanda, not the line of fire he'd come to associate with the riding crop but his buttocks still smarted and he'd hardly had time to draw breath before -- THWAPP!! -- the next stroke landed. This was no harder but he still hadn't fully recovered from the first stroke and the two combined to really sting. His hands clawed at the edges of the pouffe and he struggled to keep control; - THWAPP!! - the steady beat of the paddle was raising a furnace within his buttocks, each blow stoking it higher and he was having to fight back the tears; he really, really didn't want to break down in front of Miss Worthing, he wanted so much to show that he could take it, that he could be what she wanted but, try as he might, he couldn't stop himself as tears welled into his eyes and he shook like a leaf. He'd fully lost count when she finally stopped and he was left, his buttocks two balls of fire. Jim was awash in a sea of emotions; for all that his buttocks stung like crazy his erection, crushed in its cage, was, if anything, stronger than ever.
He felt the soft touch of the tips of Miss Worthing's fingers trailing over the lacy material covering his battered flesh.
"Just stay like that for a moment. Let the lesson sink in. You have learnt your lesson, haven't you?" she said.
"Yes, Mistress." Jim sniffed back the tears. Every fibre of his being wanted to reach back and rub his buttocks, ease away the pain but he knew he would never get away with that so he gripped the edges of the pouffe and tried to stay as still as possible.
For maybe a minute or so Miss Worthing left Jim bent over, giving him time to recover. She sat back on her chaise longue and watched Jim's thigh muscles work as he absorbed the pain. His cute little butt looked so sweet in his pretty pink panties and there was something about having a man bent over in front of her, his well tanned buttocks testament to his devotion. She let the paddle fall to the floor beside her.
