Stable Boy Ch. 01

Jim went to fetch the various tack and took it along to the stall. He was not surprised to find that Dark Pleasure was a magnificent horse; as ever it was nothing but the best for Amanda Fforbes. He was busy fitting the saddle when he heard the stable door open.

"Ah, Amanda, I thought I heard your car. Are you alone or are your friends with you?" Miss Worthing's voice carried clear across the stables.

"Hello, Miss Worthing," Amanda replied. "The others will be along in a minute or so. I see you've got a new stable boy."

"Ah, yes, Jim. He started this morning. I know that you suggested Kathy for the job but I think you'll find Jim a suitable alternative. Do you know him?"

"He was at the same school as me so I know of him but we didn't really meet. He's not really my sort," Amanda replied.

"I think you'll find he's more your sort than you expect." Miss Worthing replied, laughing. "Let me tell you about..."

The rest of the conversation was lost to Jim as Amanda and Miss Worthing wandered off down the stables. He had hardly finished fixing Dark Pleasure's bridle before he heard the stable door open once again and the animated conversation of three girls coming down the central walkway. He could easily guess that two of the newcomers were Karen Dickinson and Sandra Brennan who had been cohorts of Amanda back in school but he had no idea who the third one was. He came out of the stall just as Amanda returned.

"Hey, guys!" Amanda called out. "Look who Miss Worthing has taken on as stable boy."

"Hello, Miss Dickinson, Miss Brennan," Jim said to Karen and Sandra. The third girl was, he noticed, standing shyly a little behind the others and was carrying all the bags.

"But I thought..." Karen started.

"Yeah, I know," Amanda returned, "so did I but Miss Worthing explained. It will be better this way and Jim has been told to do anything we ask him, isn't that right, Jim?"

"Yes, Miss Fforbes," Jim replied.

"But what about Kathy?" Sandra asked.

"Oh, we'll find plenty of ways to have fun with Kathy, don't you worry. Now come along, let's get saddled up and out riding," Amanda replied.

Jim had to scuttle about to get the three other horses ready as quickly as possible. Whilst he did so the four girls stood in a huddle, giggling and occasionally looking his way. Dealing with Miss Worthing made Jim nervous but this was worse, he had no illusions about any schemes that Amanda might cook up and he was wondering about the look on Amanda's face as she had told her friends that he had been told to do anything they asked. He had no doubt that some outrageous demands were coming his way.

Whilst the girls were out Jim took the opportunity to check on their horses' stalls to ensure all was in place for their return. As he took the sweepings out to the manure heap he glanced across the fields to where he could see the girls cantering around a course that had been marked out. Even at this distance it was easy to pick out Amanda on her distinctive black gelding and, as ever, she was out in front, leading the pack. He looked over to the stable yard, there in the middle was a brand new Lotus Elise, evidently Amanda's; having a multimillionaire as a father meant she got all the good things in life.

The girls returned to the stables and Jim put the four sweating horses back in their stalls; there was going to be quite a bit of rubbing down to do and he knew only too well who was going to do it. However, as he was putting the tack away Amanda was watching him with a curious glint in her eye, flicking her riding crop against her boot; wherever he went she seemed to be in the way, making his job as difficult as possible. He'd just staggered into the tack room with an armful of gear when he turned to find that she and her friends were blocking the door.

"Please, Miss Fforbes, may I get on with my job?" he asked in exasperation.

"Don't be in such a hurry, Jim," Amanda purred. "I want to have a little fun. Miss Worthing tells me you like cleaning our riding boots. Is that true? Do you like cleaning boots?"

"Yes, Miss Fforbes," Jim replied thinking that this would be the easiest answer.

"It looks like I've got some mud on my boots. You'd best clean it off for me." Still Amanda's voice was sweet and light.

"Certainly, Miss Fforbes." Jim turned to the bench to get a cloth and then knelt down in front of Amanda but, before he could start she lifted her foot off the ground and roughly wiped it against his thigh.

"That's it, now you're my doormat. Don't you want to be my doormat?" Amanda's voice now had an edge of steel.

"Please, Miss Fforbes..." Jim started but he felt trapped. He knew that Miss Worthing was less than pleased with him and, if Amanda went to her to complain, then he'd be out on his ear and he'd soon be known as the village pervert. He had no doubt that Amanda would back up Miss Worthing's story and add her own embellishments. On the other hand, if he complied, he was just making things worse.

"Well..." Amanda patience was obviously wearing thin. Jim had to decide, and decide now.

"Yes, Miss Fforbes," Jim replied at last, taking the easier option. "I want to be your doormat."

"Of course you do. Now lie down properly, there's a good boy," Amanda ordered, her voice dripping with condescension.

Jim lay face down on the floor but Amanda kicked him and told him to roll over. Then she returned to wiping her boots on his body, concentrating on the groin area. Jim tried to cover himself with his hands, to protect himself but as soon as he did so...

"Lie still!" Amanda commanded. "Kathy, hold his arms down. Come along ladies, I can't be the only one with muddy boots."

Kathy knelt down next to Jim's head, took his arms by the wrists, and put her weight on them, pinning them to the floor. Meanwhile the others gathered round and Jim's chest and groin were pummelled by the hard leather of three pairs of riding boots. Jim closed his eyes; one foot, he could hazard a guess who's, went straight to the apex of his groin and, to his horror, Jim felt his penis swelling in response. Amanda must have seen this as well, her foot was making circular motions and Jim felt as if he would burst his jeans.

"Well, well, well. It looks like our little stable boy really does want to be our doormat," Amanda smirked as she removed her foot. "Guess who's got a stiffy. Shall we have a closer look? Karen, would you do the honours?"

Jim, with his arms still pinned, just lay there, his face burning with embarrassment. He kept his eyes closed, too ashamed to meet the eyes of his tormentors, as he felt Karen's fingers at his belt, at his flies, tugging first his jeans and then his boxers down to around mid thigh. Nimble fingers grasped him, gently easing his foreskin back and forth over his glans.

"You like that, don't you?" Amanda said.

"I... I... Yes, Miss Fforbes," Jim replied.

"And do you need to come now? Do you think Miss Dickinson should finish you off?" Amanda asked.

"I... err... that's for you to decide, Miss Fforbes." Jim was beginning to realise what Amanda wanted, what he needed to do to survive.

"So it is," Amanda laughed, "and maybe, if you're a good little doormat, we'll let you. For starters you can get on your hands and knees and kiss our boots asking nicely. Karen, Kathy, let him up and we'll see how he does."

Karen and Kathy stood up allowing Jim to roll over, get on his knees and, with his jeans still around his thighs, crawl over to in front of Amanda. He bent forward, noisily kissing the tips of her boots.

"Please, Miss Fforbes, please, I beg you to be allowed to come," Jim pleaded, bighting back the bile.

"What are you?" Amanda demanded harshly.

"Err... err... your doormat?" Jim hazarded.

"Yes, our doormat. So, why doesn't my doormat try begging again and this time see if you can get it right?"

"Please, Miss Fforbes, your doormat begs you that he is allowed to come?" Jim tried.

"That's better. Now Miss Brennan."

Jim moved so he was in front of Sandra Brennan's boots, knelt and kissed before repeating the plea. Then it was Karen's turn.

"Do you think my hands should touch your disgusting prick again, doormat?" Karen snarled once Jim had pleaded.

"No, of course not, Miss Dickinson," Jim replied.

"God, you're pathetic. Go on, it's Kathy's turn now."

As Jim approached Kathy she seemed nervous, hesitant, and even backed off a little. Her whole demeanour contrasted strongly with the others. Still, Jim had no choice but to go through with the pantomime. However, as he didn't know her surname he had to address her simply as 'Miss Kathy' and hope for the best.

"Well, ladies, was that grovelling enough? Shall we let our doormat have his pleasure?" Amanda asked.

"As long as I don't have to touch him again," Karen replied.

"Yeah, it's OK by me," Sandra added.

"Well, doormat, it looks like, just this once, we're going to take pity on you and allow you to come. Enjoy it; it may be the last time we allow it for quite a while," Amanda said. "Right here will do, lie on the floor and tug yourself off."

Horrified Jim realised what he'd got himself into. There was no way out, he had seen how ruthless and determined Amanda was, indeed they all were, and had no doubts that, if he were to try to back out now, she would stir up all sorts of trouble. Moreover, the very thought of what she was telling him to do, the thought of playing with himself in front of them, was terrifying. However, terrifying or not, his penis was sending out a very different message. Ever since Amanda had massaged it with her foot it had lost none of the stiffness; indeed, kissing the boots and pleading had, if anything, added to his ardour. Knowing he had no other choice he lay down, rolled onto his back, and reached for his penis.

Again he was a confused mix of emotions. His shame and embarrassment knew no bounds; was he really jerking off in front of four sneering girls? On the other hand he was discovering a whole new range of thrills, thrills he would never have guessed at before. He could still feel in his mind the touch of her boots against him, the taste of leather as he had kissed them, and, although his mind rebelled at the thought, his libido was more than willing to be their doormat. His burning cheeks, the laughter of the girls, the occasional prod of their boots were fuelling his erection, not cooling it down. Faster and faster his fist pumped away; how he wished he could stop, how he wished he didn't feel like this, how he wished...

With a mighty groan he came, his jism pumping out in great gobs, splattering his tee shirt.

"Pathetic," Amanda commented. "Come on girls; let's go back to my place."

Without a backward glance they left. Jim cleaned himself up as best he could, pulled up his jeans and went to rub down the horses. It was nearly eight by the time he had finished and he wearily trudged his way home. He barely had the energy to eat his evening meal before pleading exhaustion and taking himself off to bed. He went up to his room and was getting undressed when his phone bleeped indicating that he had a new message. He didn't recognise the number but when he opened it he saw it was a photo, a photo of him lying on the ground with his jeans around his knees and his fist wrapped around his penis; it must have been taken almost as he came. The quality wasn't that good but it was clear enough that he, and more importantly what he was doing, was instantly recognisable.

A moment of two later the phone bleeped again. This time it was a text message:-

U R my doormat now.

A

Jim slumped back on the bed. It looked like it was going to be a long summer.