Stable Boy Ch. 01

Dedication

This story might never have happened if it weren't for the help and encouragement of Miss Worthing's biggest fan. At each stage of the process I was never let off the hook, I was cajoled, encouraged, bullied, pushed and pulled until this story became the best it could be. Many of the plot twists were suggestions and, in a very real sense, this story is a co-write.

As such it is gratefully dedicate to a very good friend with my profound thanks.

LJ

* * * * *

Jim lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was mid June and he'd been home from university for over a week and, apart from IMing his friends online or playing games on his computer he had hardly done anything, let alone stirred from his bedroom. His mum was getting increasingly crabby about him 'getting under her feet' and, above all, he was broke. When she called up the stairs asking him to go to the village store he nearly refused but, there was something in her tone which got him out of bed and off down the road.

The village store was a combination of a post office and convenience store with groceries at the front and a small counter at the rear. He wandered in and went to the cooler cabinet to pick up a litre of milk but, when he got to the counter, he found he was behind Mrs Higgins who, having cashed her pension was now doing a little shopping and was taking her time, discussing all the village gossip whilst she unloaded her basket, item by item. Jim knew better than to make a fuss so he waited patiently in line and, as he did so, his eyes strayed to the notice board. There, prominently displayed, was a card which read:-

Help Required

Stable Girl/Boy needed during summer holiday period

Pay on application

Phone Miss Worthing on xxxxx xxxxxx or apply in person at New Farm stables

The more Jim stared at the notice board the more he fancied the job. He really needed to do something and the only other work for summer casuals was processing chickens in the local factory, a much less than appealing prospect. He'd much rather be out and about than stuck inside and, although the stables tended to be full of spoilt little rich girls, it would get him out of the house, stop his mum from nagging, and, above all, put a bit of money in his pocket. The only question was who's this 'Miss Worthing? He thought he knew everyone in the village but he'd never come across her. Surely New Farm was owned by the Thompsons?

At last Mrs Higgins had finished so Jim paid for the milk and returned home.

"Mum!" he called out as he entered the house. "Don't the Thompsons run New Farm?"

"Didn't you hear? Jack Thompson got taken ill last April. He's retired now. Some newcomer has taken over, a Miss Worthing, I'm sure I mentioned it. She can be a bit of a dragon from what I hear but the girls all seem to like her and there's no doubting she's put some life back in the old place. Why do you ask?"

"There was a notice in the post office; she needs someone to work in the stables. I thought I might apply," Jim replied.

"A job at Miss Worthing's stables? Well, you had better buck your ideas up. A job like that will be snapped up in no time. I'd go down this afternoon if I were you. Now come and have your lunch."

That afternoon Jim sauntered down the lanes heading for New Farm. It was a beautiful day, the birds were singing in the trees, and the Dorset countryside was looking its picture postcard best. He reached the farm, turned up the drive and, carefully shutting the gate behind him, walked up the house. There was no answer at the door so he wandered across the farmyard to the stables towards where he could hear noises. He opened the door only to be hit full in the face by a spray of muddy water ricocheting from the floor as someone used a high-pressure hose.

"You idiot; bursting in like that! Why don't you knock before you enter?" A woman's voice called out as the sound of the pressure washer died down. "Here, dry yourself off with this."

Jim felt a rough towel being pushed into his hands and, as he wiped the water from his face he could finally see whom he was dealing with. The woman in front of him, presumably Miss Worthing, was tall and slim and was dressed in a white blouse, jodhpurs, and riding boots. She was definitely older than Jim but quite a bit younger than his mum, Jim guessed at somewhere in her low thirties, and definitely good looking in a smart, stylish way but, more than all that, there was something about her, something about the air of self confidence, the way she hadn't even thought about apologising for soaking him, that marked her out as a woman not to be trifled with. Instead of feeling annoyed at the soaking he felt like a naughty schoolchild in front of the headmistress.

"Well, can I help you?" she said sharply; her voice, whilst not unfriendly, was not exactly welcoming either.

"Err... I came about the job; I saw the card in the post office," Jim stuttered.

"Did you indeed?" Miss Worthing seemed bemused. "Do you think you're up to it?"

"Yes, yes, I am. I've lived in the village all my life and often helped out Mr Thompson when he owned this farm," Jim replied.

"Helped out the Thompsons, eh? I think you'll find I run things a bit differently; a bit more business-like. The job's still open; I was rather expecting one of the girls to apply but it would seem that they see themselves as above mere menial work. Do you see yourself as above menial work?"

"No, of course not. Just let me know what you want doing and I'm up for it; anything at all."

"Anything at all," Miss Worthing echoed as she looked Jim up and down as if inspecting him. "Well, I have to admit that you weren't exactly what I was looking for but I think you might just do. It might even be fun to have a lad like you around the place. Right then, here are the rules. The girls, or rather their parents, pay a small fortune to have their ponies kept in stables that are always in tip-top condition, and that's what they're going to get. Your job will be to ensure that the stables are clean and swept at all times and all the tack is to be equally clean and polished. As regards the girls, they are my clients and you are staff and you are not, repeat not, ever to forget that. You will make sure that everything at the stables goes just the way they want it. You will treat them with respect at all times, and, as far as possible, avoid talking to them; you won't have time for idle chatter. When you do have to talk to them you will refer to them as 'Miss' and, whilst we're on the subject, you will refer to me as Miss Worthing. You start work at six in the morning and you stay until you're finished. For that you get five pounds an hour. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Err... Yes, yes, Miss Worthing," Jim replied, somewhat taken aback.

"Well, you had best come and have a look at the stables then; see the changes I've made since Mr Thompson's time. Follow me."

Miss Worthing turned and led the way back into the stable complex. There were indeed many changes since the Thompsons had run them. The whole place was scrupulously clean and well maintained and many of the stalls were occupied. The main body of the stables was a brick floored aisle with stalls along either side. There was a sort of cross-roads in the centre and, on the right was a barn which had been converted into an arena with seating around the edges to allow for show jumping competitions. On the left was a spacious tack room and, next to it a staffroom. Everywhere Jim looked there was an air of prosperity about the place that had been lacking previously and it was obvious that Miss Worthing was a competent businesswoman. Whilst she explained the daily routine Jim was shown where he would be working; the tack room with it's rows of saddles and bridles and how it was all laid out, where the cleaning stuff was and how to use the high pressure washing system. He was also shown the staff room with turned out to have an an attached bathroom and, to his surprise a bunk bed. Jim wondered how busy he would have to be to consider staying overnight when his home was so close by. All the time Miss Worthing maintained her brisk professionalism but Jim couldn't escape the feeling that there was something which amused her.

"So, do you think you can handle being bossed around by a bunch of teenage girls?" Miss Worthing asked as they finished the tour and re-emerged into the sunlight.

"Bossed around?" Jim queried.

"Oh yes. Some of the girls can be quite, err... demanding and they're used to having their own way. For that matter you'll find I won't stand for any slacking. When I give an order I expect it to be obeyed promptly and willingly otherwise... Let's just say that you'd do best to obey." Miss Worthing gave Jim a long penetrating look, a look that seemed to bore inside him. "Mind you, some boys quite like to be bossed around by the girls, quite like to be 'taken in hand', as it were; are you one of those?"

"I don't know what you mean," Jim replied but he couldn't help but blush. The blunt, open nature of the question had taken him by surprise; he'd never before thought about being 'taken in hand', as Miss Worthing put it, but now that he did his reaction was confused and complicated.

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" Miss Worthing said with a light laugh. "I'll be taking Morning Dew out first thing tomorrow for a gallop. Make sure she's ready for me and, while you're at it, my boots could do with a polish. Have everything ready by seven."

"Certainly, Miss Worthing. I won't let you down."

"You'd better not. Now off you go, I'll see you tomorrow." Without further ado Miss Worthing turned and went back to the stables. Jim stood for a moment in thought before returning home.

****

It was another fine day when Jim set off for work the next morning. As it was less than a mile he walked across the fields taking the short cut to New Farm. When he arrived there was no one to be found so he went over to the stables and let himself in. He identified Morning Dew from the labels over the stalls and sorted out a suitable bridle and fetched Miss Worthing's saddle. He gave the horse a quick brush down and fitted the kit before returning to the boot rack where he found Miss Worthing's riding boots. There wasn't much wrong with them that he could see but if Miss Worthing wanted them to be spruced up then who was he to contradict. He found the polish and brushes and set to work. There was something about the rich smell of the leather that got to him and he took a certain amount of pride in buffing them to a deep shine, finishing off with a soft cloth. Indeed, he was so involved in what he was doing that he didn't notice the stable door opening and it was quite some time before he realised she was standing over him, watching him work.

"Err... your boots, Miss Worthing," Jim said, holding them out for her, but Miss Worthing didn't take them; rather she sat down on a chair opposite.

"Put them on for me," she commanded.

Jim knelt down in front of her and slipped off her shoes, putting them carefully in the boot rack. Then his slid Miss Worthing's calves into the firm leather of the riding boots and buckled them up, first the left and then the right. As he fastened the buckles Miss Worthing moved so that the sole of her right boot was between Jim's open knees, barely millimetres from his groin. A thrill like he had never known before coursed through him; he had an overwhelming desire to move so that he was rubbing against the boot and the very thought of it made his penis swell, growing erect. Surely Miss Worthing would notice! Jim leant forward as if taking extra care over the buckles but that just made it worse and, for a brief moment, he felt her foot touch, the heavy leather pressing through his jeans against the ever hardening bulge in his underpants. With the buckles finally fastened he knelt up again and, in a desperate attempt to hide his arousal, crossed his hands on his lap trying to cover his groin.

"Thank you. No, don't get up; I quite like you down there," Miss Worthing said as she stood up out of the chair. "You quite enjoyed polishing my boots, didn't you."

"Yes, Miss Worthing," Jim replied, fighting to get his voice under control.

"Good, I like that in a stable lad, you'll find that quite a lot of the girls do as well. You can do my shoes whilst I'm out. Make sure they're ready for when I return." Miss Worthing turned and went into the main body of the stables. Still on his knees Jim watched as she took Morning Dew from her stall and led her out into the yard.

For a moment or two Jim was too amazed to move. In his mind he could still feel the touch of Miss Worthing's foot against his groin. Had she known how excited he had become? She could hardly have missed the bulge in his jeans. Had the touch of her foot been accidental or had she been playing with him? What had she meant when she said that she 'preferred him down there'? What was she implying when she said that she liked a stable lad that liked to polish boots? What was she implying when she had said the quite a lot of the girls did as well? It could all have been so innocent, the touch could have been accidental and Miss Worthing might simply have meant that she, and the girls, liked to be spared the tedious task of cleaning the mud off their riding boots. Maybe he was reading far too much into far too little. Pushing these thoughts to one side he got up off the floor, reached for Miss Worthing's shoes and settled down to give them a good shine as well.

Jim was busy sweeping out the stalls when Miss Worthing returned from her ride but he rushed over and, taking the reins, led Morning Due back to her stall. He quickly removed the bridle and saddle and was taking them back to the racks when Miss Worthing stopped him.

"I expect the stalls to be completely swept out by now," she said curtly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Worthing, I've been busy polishing your shoes," Jim replied.

"That's no excuse. If you don't do better than this we'll have to consider ways of ..." Miss Worthing let the pause hang, "giving you some incentive."

"Yes, Miss Worthing, of course, Miss Worthing."

"Now come along, I need to get out of these boots; I've a lot to do this morning."

Jim quickly put the tack down and went back to Miss Worthing who was already sat waiting for him. Again she positioned her foot in such a way that, when he reached forward, he would effectively be rubbing himself against her but Jim had no alternative if he were to reach the buckles, but this time, as soon as he lent forward and felt the touch of her foot, he felt her push harder and wiggle her toes from side to side. This was almost too much to bear; even constrained by the tight denim of his jeans, his penis leapt into erection filling him with desire. This time it was obvious that the position of her boot was no accident and she knew exactly what she was doing. Emboldened by this and the growing need within him he pushed back, rubbing his groin against the sole of her boot.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Miss Worthing exclaimed.

"I... I... I'm sorry, Miss Worthing, I don't know what I was doing; I wasn't thinking," Jim replied blushing furiously.

"So it would seem." Miss Worthing's voice dripped with derision. "You're not off to a very good start. First I come back from my ride to find you've been slacking and now, and I can still hardly believe it, now you're rutting against my boot like some sort of oversexed puppy. What on earth made you believe that would be acceptable behaviour?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Worthing, I thought..." Jim stopped as her realised where this was going. Could he really say that he thought Miss Worthing had led him on? Wouldn't that be adding insult to injury?

"I'm really sorry, Miss Worthing," he continued lamely. "It won't happen again."

"Too right it won't," Miss Worthing replied testily. "There are plenty of others who'd like this job; give me one good reason why I shouldn't chuck you out, right here, right now."

"Please, Miss Worthing, please let me have a second chance. Please, I really won't let you down again." Jim dreaded what his mum would say if he got sacked on his first morning. Would he be reduced to spending the summer gutting chickens?

There was a long pause.

"Against my better judgement I'm going to let you stay," she said eventually. However, if there's any, and I mean any, further behaviour of this sort then not only will I sack you, but I'll make sure the entire village knows just why I sacked you. Is that completely understood?"

"Yes, Miss Worthing, thank you, Miss Worthing," Jim said, relieved that the episode appeared to be over.

"Then you had better get back to removing my boots and let's see if you can do it without getting over excited this time."

His hands shaking slightly which caused him to fumble with the buckles, Jim returned to the boots. His stomach was churning with a maelstrom of emotions. He'd been sure that Miss Worthing was rubbing her foot against him deliberately but now it seemed as if she had him down as some sort of pervert. Worse still was the threat of letting this out around the village; gossip spread like wild fire and he knew how quickly something like this would circulate. The shame of being caught out by Miss Worthing was nothing to what he knew he would suffer if the whole village knew. That would certainly give Mrs. Higgins something to discuss at the post office counter.

Once her boots were removed Celia Worthing stood up and looked down at the young lad kneeling before her. She smiled to herself; it had almost been too easy; he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker and, to judge by his erection, it would be a piece of cake to keep him in line. He was like an eager little puppy, a puppy who was just begging to serve "Miss Worthing", a puppy who had so much to learn.

****

Jim, his balls aching slightly, worked through the day, hardly daring to stop for lunch lest he were deemed to be slacking again. He let the horses out into the paddock for a couple of hours while he power-washed the brick flooring, cleaned and polished the brass work and then settled down to the tack. Most of it was laid out on hooks hung from the wall. All the various saddles were properly marked with the owner's name and there was a cupboard full of cleaning materials. However, next to it was another cupboard, this one firmly locked. He rattled the door a couple of times but whatever it held would remain a secret. He was still polishing away when he heard the engine of a powerful sports car pulling up outside. He glanced at his watch; it was four o'clock and he remembered from when Mr Thompson ran the stables how the girls would appear after school wanting to exercise their ponies. He returned to the man body of the stables just in time to meet...

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Jim Broad. Do I gather that you're the new stable boy around here?"

Jim's heart sank. He might have guessed that Amanda Fforbes would have a horse stabled here. She'd been in the year below him at school and, although they had been in very different social groups, her reputation as a first class bitch had gone before her. Now here she was, striding up the stables as if she owned the place.

"Hello, Amanda... err... Miss Fforbes," Jim replied. "Yes, I've started working for Miss Worthing."

"Miss Fforbes, yes, so much more respectful than 'Amanda'." Amanda walked around Jim, looking him up and down. "I do think it's important that you show me the proper respect, don't you?"

"Of course, Miss Fforbes," Jim replied. "May I fetch your horse for you? Which one is it?"

"Dark Pleasure," Amanda replied. "Black gelding, fourth stall along."