Stable Boy

And then, on Monday, it rained. It would seem that the weather was trying to make up for the previous spell of sunshine and, with the wind blowing briskly from the South-west, great banks of black clouds scudded overhead, each one bringing with it it’s own downpour. Jim threw on a coat before setting off but, even so, he was drenched by the time he got to New Farm and he stripped off his tee shirt and hung it over the back of a chair to let it dry as he got the stables ready.

The rain, and the mud it produced, made everything harder so he was running late and still stripped to the waist when Miss Worthing appeared at seven-o-clock.

“Come on, slowcoach.” She chided and, using the tip of her riding crop, she playfully chased him to the tack room where he climbed on his box and dropped his trousers and panties.

“Just because there’s a drop or rain it doesn’t give you an excuse to dawdle, or to go around half dressed. Maybe you should keep some dry clothes here for days like this.” Miss Worthing continued as she inspected his genitals. “You’ll do yourself no favours going around in wet jeans; you’ll find an old tracksuit of mine in the staffroom. You had best wear that whilst these dry out. Now, is Morning Dew saddled and ready?”

“Not quite finished, Miss Worthing.” Jim answered as he got down from the box and reached for her riding boots.

“Then that’s another black mark against you. I haven’t got time to wait around. I’ll put my boots on this morning; you go and get Morning Dew saddled. No, don’t pull your jeans back up, take them off; I told you not to wear them until they’re dry. Off you go.”

Wearing only his shoes, socks and panties, Jim went to sort out Morning Dew. He felt a bit exposed but the stables weren’t really open for another hour. Once he’d finished he led the horse out into the main body of the stables where Miss Worthing was waiting.

“We’ll discuss your laziness later.” She said as she mounted up and rode of into the rain.

Jim went to the staffroom where, at the back of a locker, he found the old tracksuit Miss Worthing had referred to. It was carnation pink, the colour he associated with Barbie, and, when he tried it on it was half a size too small but at least it was warm and dry. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The tracksuit was Addidas and well made but there was no getting round that fact that the colour alone marked it out as feminine and, that coupled with the size misfit, made him look more than a bit of a berk.

When Miss Worthing returned from her ride she was wet through and covered in mud, as was Morning Dew. She dismounted and took off her jacket. Hard as Jim tried he couldn’t help but stare at where the rain had caused her wet blouse to stick to her chest leaving precious little to the imagination.

“Oooh, don’t you look pretty in pink.” She joshed as Jim came up and took the reins. “That really is your colour, it even matches your panties. Let’s hope for your sake that the rain keeps the girls away.” She went to the tack room and picked up his jeans and tee shirt and was still laughing as she walked away, leaving Jim in charge of the muddy horse. Brushing him down was time consuming but he knew better than to skimp this task and, after that, there was plenty of work sweeping round so he was hard at it when, around mid morning, he heard the sound of a car pulling in to the yard. He glanced out of a window to see Amanda, along with her friends, getting out of a Fiat Punto, evidently her sports car was still in the shop for repairs to the bodywork. The four girls made a dash through the rain and entered the stables.

“Oh, doormat!” Amanda exclaimed as they came up to him. “Is that a new tracksuit; the colour suits you perfectly!” The others laughed along. “Now, it’s raining and we’re bored so I’ve decided that you’re going to have to be our entertainment.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Fforbes.” Jim replied. “I didn’t know you were coming or I’d have got your horses ready.”

“Are you deaf as well as stupid?” Amanda sneered. “I said that you were going to be the entertainment. It’s far too wet to ride in this weather, well that sort of horse, anyway. No, we’re going to have a little gymkhana, you against tubby here. See which one of you makes the best pony.”

“Please, Miss Fforbes,” Jim pleaded. “You remember what happened last time. We must be discrete.”

“Don’t you dare answer me back like that.” Quick as a flash Amanda stepped forward and slapped Jim across the cheek. “Anyway, no one else will come out on a day like today and, once we’ve got the two of you kitted up we’ll go to the barn and lock the door. We’ll be as safe as houses.”

Jim had no answer to that, or at least, not one that would satisfy Amanda so, reluctantly he allowed himself to be led to the tack room. Amanda evidently had a key to the cupboard as she went straight over and opened it.

“Now then, who’s first?” She asked, looking at Jim and Kathy. Neither replied as neither was keen to play, but again, neither had the nerve to stand up to Amanda so they both knew they were going to have to do it in the end. “Come along, tubby.” Amanda said eventually, cutting across the ‘umm’s and ‘ahh’s from Jim and Kathy. “Ladies first.”

Jim was told to get out of the way and stand in the corner as Kathy stripped off and the others sorted out the tack from the cupboard.  Kathy kept darting glances at Jim and he could tell that she was distinctly unhappy with what was going on and wished he wasn’t there. He wondered how desperate she must be to take this abuse from Amanda, what it was about her that kept her coming back for more. Once Kathy was naked Amanda came up behind her and, holding her by the shoulders, turned her to face Jim.

“Well, doormat; does the sight of tubby naked turn you on?” She gave Kathy a shake making her breasts bounce around. “Or maybe you can’t take all this blubber.” Jim watched as Kathy winced at the insults, her eyes filling with tears.  With Amanda still holding Kathy facing Jim the others fitted the harness, criss-crossing the straps around her body. Amanda made several comments about how the straps were tighter than last time and how Kathy must be putting on weight.

“If you carry on like this,” she joked “We’ll have to call you lardarse. You’re getting far to fat just to be called ‘tubby’.”

The harness was followed by a pair of wrist cuffs, a bridle and the ‘pony’ boots. Then she was taken to the work bench where she was bent over, ready to be fitted with her tail.

“God, look at all that blubber.” Amanda continued her taunting. “Go on, spread ‘em wide, tubby, or we won’t find your arsehole in amongst all that fat.”

Sandra pushed Kathy’s legs further apart with her foot as Amanda came up behind her and, after applying a squirt of lubricant, pushed the plug of the tail firmly into Kathy’s anus. Then they stood her back up and, as a final touch, a pair of bells was attached to her nipples. Although she would never be another Miss Worthing she actually looked quite pretty in full pony gear and Jim couldn’t help staring, a fact that Kathy noticed and she retuned a defiant ‘what are you staring at’ look.

“Now then, doormat, it’s your turn.” Amanda turned her attentions to Jim. “Come along, don’t keep us waiting. Get your kit off.”

Kathy was pushed to one side and Jim was brought into the centre of the room where he started to undress. There was no problem with the tracksuit top but, as Jim pushed down the bottom half his panties came into view causing the three girls to hoot with laughter.

“Well, well, well.” Amanda said once she had recovered a bit. “What gorgeous undies. I do believe they’re Janet Reger; what taste you have! It seems that pink really is your colour; what are you, some sort of homo or something?”

“It’s…” Jim started.

“Just shut up and get ‘em off.” Amanda cut across him. “Ponies don’t wear panties and I’m not interested in what disgusting perversion makes you want to.”

Jim, stinging with the injustice of being called ‘perverted’ by Amanda took off the panties and stood in the middle of the room while they fitted with his harness. As with Kathy, this was followed by Jim’s wrists being cuffed and locked together behind him. Then it was time for the bridle, its metal bit forcing his mouth open and holding his tongue down. As they bent down to fit his boots Jim glanced over at Kathy, looking for sympathy now that he was naked too but all he got in return was a look that wished him dead. They may be thrown together but there was no common bond between them, not from Kathy, at any rate. Once the boots were fitted he was shoved to the bench and bent over, just as they had done with Kathy.

Knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier when Amanda, with the minimum of lubrication, pushed the tail plug into Jim’s anus, twisting it back and forth to overcome any resistance. He’d tried to keep under control but the searing pain forced a scream out of him.

“What’s up, doormat?” Amanda asked, giving the plug an extra twist. “I thought you homos liked taking it up the arse.”

With the tail in place they stood him back up and fitted him with nipple bells just like the ones on Kathy. Jim winced as the metal clips grasped his nipples. Then, after grabbing a few bits and pieces from the cupboard, they attached reins to the two 'ponies' and headed for the barn. As soon as they got there Karen locked the door and Amanda led the two ‘ponies’ to one side of the central arena, tied off their reins and stood before them with her hands on her hips.

“Like I said, we’re going to have a little gymkhana, a few easy tests to find out who’s the best pony and, just to give you an incentive…” Amanda went over to the bag of bits they had brought with them and produced a strap-on. “The winner gets to arse fuck the looser with this.”

Jim stared in horror. The plug holding the tail was bad enough but at least it wasn’t moving. And even if it went the other way, if he were by some mad chance to win, then the thought of having to use this thing on Kathy was not his idea of a turn on. Kathy gave him another one of her looks; this one seemed to say that, as far as she was concerned, whilst the outcome was a foregone conclusion in her favour, she still didn’t relish the reward either.

Meanwhile Karen and Sandra had been arranging a set of jumps around the arena. They had been scrounging parts from the store used for show jumping and modifying them accordingly. The wall was, for instance, only two ‘bricks’ high and the other fences were similarly low. Over to one side there was a table set up for judging and, exactly as if this were the real thing, Karen and Sandra went over and sat down whilst Amanda, forever the ringmaster, went to the buggy and fetched out the long carriage whip.

First up we’ll have tubby, she can show doormat how it’s done. She went over to where Kathy and Jim were tied up and released Kathy, prodding her to the start of the course with the end of the whip. Once she was there Sandra rang a bell and Kathy started off around the course. There was no way she was going to be graceful, she simply didn’t have it in her, but she had had some practice and could make her way around without too many problems. She wasn’t helped by Amanda constantly flicking the end of the whip against her buttocks or by the jeers and cat-calls from Sandra and Karen who were taking every opportunity to make disparaging remarks about her weight. Three times she was forced to go round and, when she finally got to the end she was panting and sweating freely. Amanda went over and fetched her back to where her reins still lay ready to tie her up again.

“Did my little pony like her go over the jumps?” Amanda’s tone was as if speaking to a small child. She reached down and roughly grabbed Kathy between her thighs. “Oooh, yes, I think my little pony is having fun. If she’s good, if she’s really, really good, I might let her go down on me later.”

Jim saw the look of gratitude in Kathy’s eyes; she really was appreciative for even this slight attention and Jim could appreciate how Amanda’s interest in him was making her feel left out and ignored. Amanda started to rub Kathy who quickly responded, pushing her hips back and forth against the pressure of Amanda’s hand.

“That’s quite enough of that.” Amanda said, removing her hand. “Now, let’s see how our little gelding gets on.”  She released Jim and shepherded him to the centre of the arena but, before she let him go she stood close to him, her mouth close to his ear. “Make this good, doormat.” She snarled in a whisper. “Make it very good or you’ll suffer, really suffer.”

Karen and Sandra rang the bell and he was off. Even walking in the ill fitting boots was uncomfortable and trying to run was agony as each step forced his toes into the constricting bottom of the boot. Meanwhile the nipple bells were swinging about wildly causing the clips to tug painfully at his nipples. He’d never really mastered walking in the boots and he struggled to keep his balance, tottering even as he approached the first fence. He tried, he really tried to make it, but as soon as he lifted his first foot over he knew he was going to fall and, twisting to one side to minimise the damage he crashed to the ground.

“Come on, get up!” Amanda called out reinforcing her words with the whip. Jim forced himself to his knees and then back on to his feet and stumbled off again. The next obstacle was the wall and, mercifully he managed to step over it but he still lost his balance and fell sideways into the next fence leaving it a tangle of fallen poles. Even then he was given no peace; with the jeers from the girls ringing in his ears and the whip lashing about his body he struggled on back to his feet. Then, as he crashed into the next fence Amanda finally relented.

“Pathetic! Completely pathetic!” She called out. “Four fences and he only makes one of them. Couldn’t even make one round. Tubby’s the winner. Now for the prize giving Come on girls; let’s have him over the table and get tubby all kitted out; this should be fun to watch. Sandra and Karen got up and the two of them pulled Jim to his feet and dragged him to the judging table where he was bent over and they held him down as the tail was brutally tugged from his backside. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Amanda fitting the strap-on on to Kathy who looked less than pleased at the prospect. But, as she brought Kathy over, Amanda suddenly stopped.

“You, and that butt of yours, are all mine, aren’t you, doormat. All mine and mine alone.” She said.

Jim could only nod in agreement. He knew that Miss Worthing would have something to say on the matter but he wasn’t in a position to debate.

“But you’ve got no markings, nothing to show my ownership. Well, I’m going to make sure you, and anyone who sees it, knows that your butt is my property, now and forever. Sandy, get the barbecue out. The old gas one that’s under the bleachers. I’m just off to the car for a moment.”

Amanda rushed off leaving Kathy standing helpless as Sandra scrabbled about under the bleachers returning with a coating of dust and an old barbecue. When Amanda came back she was carrying an object the general size and shape of a riding crop in her hand.

“Look what I got Johnny Andrews to make for me. The poor little thing will do anything for a shag; not that he’s ever getting one.” Amanda showed her friends what she was holding and Jim, looking back over his shoulder, could see that it was an ‘A’ in a circle made out of metal and fastened on the end of a pole. As Amanda went over to the barbecue and fired it up he realised with a shudder exactly what it was. He was to be branded; this was what she had meant about being marked as hers forever and ever. In a panic he started to stand up but Sandra had rejoined Karen in holding him dowm and a firm hand pushed him back onto the table again.

There was an air of anticipation as the only sound was the hissing of the gas as the coals, and the branding iron, heated up. Jim was seriously scared; he knew well enough that Amanda had no mercy but this was far beyond anything that they had done before; if she had her way he would be, quite literally, scarred for life. He watched in horror as Amanda lifted the now glowing iron from the barbecue and headed towards him.

“Watch out for his hooves.” Amanda warned as she approached. “Hold him steady; he’s liable to kick a bit.”

“Stop right there!” Miss Worthing’s voice came from the other side of the barn and, as ever, it had an edge that had to be obeyed. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, Amanda Fforbes, but it stops right here and right now. What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m branding my slave, what does it look like.” Amanda replied, totally unrepentant.

“Your slave? I don’t think so. He’s not your slave, he’s my staff and I’ve already told you to keep your hands off him. Now let him go, immediately!” Miss Worthing said angrily.

“You seem to be forgetting who I am, who my father is. I’m not going to be ordered around by some… stable keeper.” Amanda spat the words with contempt. “If you know what’s good for you, what’s good for your business…” Again the contempt was clear. “You’ll remember exactly who pays your rent and leave me to do what I want, whenever I want. I pay, I say. Do I make myself quite clear?”

“No, dear, I think you’ll find it doesn't quite work like that.” Miss Worthing said calmly, almost thoughtfully. It was as if Amanda had just fired off her biggest guns and Miss Worthing wasn’t affected in the least. “These are my stables and I make the rules, certainly not a spoilt little brat like you. And, Mandy dear, before you go running to hide behind that over indulgent father of yours, I have a certain something you might want to consider.”  Miss Worthing had fetched her top of the range mobile phone from her pocket and was busy selecting things from menus. “I know you’re a big fan of using blackmail to get your own way; you’re oh-so fond of your little collection of embarrassing video clips. Well, trust me, you’re only a novice and certainly not the only one who can play that game. Do you remember a certain party you were at? The one down in Datchet, Lord Billoby’s place I seem to recall.”

“What about it. That was a private party.” Amanda replied still defiant.

“Well, I’ve got this little gem, a memento of your time there; perhaps you might want to keep this ‘private’ as well.” Miss Worthing said, an air of menace creeping in to her voice. She handed over the phone to Amanda. “Just press that button there; the one marked ‘play’.”

The screen was small and the lighting less than perfect but Amanda could still make out where the video clip was taken and she could guess what it was going to be about.

"Where did you get this?" She demanded as the panic rose in her voice. "You weren't there. Who gave you this?"

"Oh, I have my sources." Miss Worthing smiled sweetly. "I wonder what daddy would say were he to see his little girl snorting cocaine as she enjoys taking it up the arse.” Coming from Miss Worthing the course language just emphasised her anger, despite the sweetness of her tone. “Such a pretty image, I'm sure he'll want to share it with all his friends, or maybe I should do that for him.”

Amanda stared in horror. Just as Miss Worthing had foretold the unsteady camera work panned around, first showing an arse being well and truly shafted. Then it panned along the body until it wasn't just any arse, it was her, stark naked and bent over a coffee table while snorting lines of coke. On the screen she saw herself look up at the camera. She raised herself up, rubbed her breasts in the coke and waggled them at the camera. The sound through the speakers was clear enough that she even made out her stupid brag of 'Have some coke, darling, lick it off my tits. Then watch while I'll fuck everyone here, cunt or arse, whatever they want.' It had just been a bit of fun, she's been so drunk at the time, not to mention the coke she’d snorted, and when Lord Billoby’s son, Nigel, had persuaded her to play his games in front of the camera it had seemed so grown up, so daring, and she’d been so keen to impress him, so keen to become part of the ‘set’ that she would have done just about anything but now, here in the video clip, she saw her self for what she was, a desperate little girl looking like a cheap whore. This was not a video she dare have anyone else see, let alone her father. She thought briefly about appealing to Nigel for help but she was the only person identifiable in the clip and she was wise enough to know how little help she would get if she brought this sort of trouble to his door; she would never get invited back. Suddenly she felt very lonely, very exposed.

"If you dare show that to anyone, anyone at all..." Amanda bluffed desperately.

"Well, I won't, will I?" Miss Worthing replied. "Not, of course, unless you give me reason to. Otherwise who knows where it might end up? It might even get as far as the press; think of the field day they would have. No, I’ll keep this safe for you, keep it tucked away, something we can share between us, a bond on your further good behaviour, and whilst on the subject, if any of the video clips you keep were to come out… well, once things get rolling then everything comes out, doesn’t it? I do hope I make myself quite clear? Now I think it's time you and your friends went home, don't you? Oh, and I'll take that." Miss W grabbed for the phone. There was a brief scuffle. "Don't be stupid that's not the only copy. The master is safely tucked away where only I can get at it. Give the phone back, there's a good girl."

As Miss Worthing wrenched back the phone Amanda gave a snarl of rage. “This isn’t over, not by a long chalk.”

“Oh, I think it is. Trust me, I know you’re not used to losing but you’ve lost this one. Go away and don’t come back until you’ve grown up a little and, whilst you’re at it, take your friends with you.”

Amanda was still muttering as she, accompanied by Karen and Sandra, slouched away. Miss Worthing watched her retreating back; it had only been a few days ago that she had got a phone call from an old friend, Tess Billoby, who had talked about ‘this jumped up little tart’ who was ‘hanging around Nigel, dropping her knickers at every opportunity’. When it had turned out that the ‘little tart’ was Amanda they had had a good laugh together about her pretensions, about how she was such a wannabe but, however hard she tried, she would never be ‘one of us’. Tess had told her about the video clip, mostly as an example of what a tart Amanda was but, once she realised that her friend might have a use for it, she had sent it over with her blessings. ‘Use it however you want’ had been her exact words and, serendipitously, the timing had been perfect. Now that Amanda was effectively dealt with Miss Worthing went over an untied Kathy, who had been watching the whole thing, wide eyed.

“There you go.” Miss Worthing said as she released the wrist cuffs from behind her. Kathy immediately reached for the buckles holding on her bridle “You had best go and get changed. Don’t worry, there’s still no one around. Oh and Kathy…”

“Yes, Miss Worthing.” Kathy replied as she removed her bridle.

“I know you think that Amanda is your friend. She’s not, really, she’s not. She doesn’t like you; she’s just using you. You can do so much better, a pretty girl like you. Find someone who cares about you, who wants you for what you are; not someone who wants you just so they can boost their own ego. In fact…” Miss Worthing mused to herself. “Why don’t you come to tea on Wednesday? There’s someone I’d like you to meet. I’m sure you’d get on together.”

“Thank you, Miss Worthing. Tea… Wednesday… I'm not sure... I might be busy…” Kathy said a little uncertainly. Then she turned and left as quickly as possible to get herself changed.

“Well now.” Miss Worthing said, pickling up the branding iron from the ground where Amanda had dropped it. She took it over an put it down next to the barbeque which she switched off. Then she went over to Jim who, having regained his feet, was still standing next to the table. “What are we going to do with you? You’d best stand up straight for a start.”

Still wobbling from the shock Jim turned to face Miss Worthing. He’d expected to be freed but she seemed to have other ideas. He looked at her in supplication as she came over and put her hand on his shoulder.

“I know, you’ve probably had enough pony play for one day what with the shock of thinking you were going to be branded and all but let's give Kathy a bit of space, leave her to get changed in private. We’ll give her ten minutes or so on her own; after all, at the end of the day, she’s just as much a victim of Amanda as you are.” Miss Worthing took a step back and looked him up and down. “Come along, don’t be shy, seeing as how you’ve still got all the tack on we might as well pass the time with you showing me what Amanda has taught you; why don't you walk back and forth a bit, let me see your basic gait.”

Jim hadn’t thought of Kathy as a victim of Amanda, she had always seemed to be there willingly but the more he thought about it, the more he remembered how reluctantly Kathy had done many of the things Amanda had ordered her to do, the more he realised that Miss Worthing was right and, maybe, giving her a little space was the right thing to do. Reluctantly he tottered off, wondering slightly what Miss Worthing had meant by his ‘basic gait’.

“You poor thing!” Miss Worthing laughed. “You haven’t got a clue, have you? The silly girl didn’t teach you anything. Huh, all she wanted was to have you as a victim, she knows nothing about pony play, nothing at all. Now then...” She came up to Jim and, standing in front of him, put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him.

“It’s all about posture.” She continued. “First things first, just stand still. Come along, feet slightly apart, shoulders back, head up. You’re a pony on display, be proud of what you are.”

Then Miss Worthing showed Jim what she called the basic gait. “Lift your knees as you walk.” She explained. “Make every step definite.” She walked beside him, steadying him and keeping the rhythm by patting him on the backside. Whereas being a pony-boy for Amanda had been a put down, a way for her to humiliate him, Miss Worthing was encouraging him to stand straight, to be proud, to walk tall and Jim was even beginning to enjoy himself when Miss Worthing called him to a halt.

“Well, that’s enough for today.” She said, standing back and putting her head to one side. “You’ve not done too badly for a beginner. With the right training…” She let the thought trail off. “Well, Kathy must have finished by now and neither of us can afford to mess around all morning. Come along, let’s get you changed and back to work.”

Patting him on the cheeks of his buttocks she chivvied him to the tack room. Kathy had indeed gone and her pony kit was neatly put away. Miss Worthing unfastened Jim’s wrists and then knelt down before him and started in on the straps fastening the pony boots around his calves. As she eased them off she could see how badly they fitted, how crushed his toes had been, forced into the constricting toe.

“We’ll have to get you a pair of boots that fit. No wonder you were struggling.” She mused as she stood up and gave Jim a hand in unfastened the straps of his harness. “And a tail that matches your hair colour.” She saw Jim’s look at the mention of the tail. “What’s up? Don’t you like wearing a  tail? It can be a bit sore at first and I guess Amanda was more than a trifle brutal but, don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to it, probably even enjoy it.” She gave him a smile. “Now, all these distractions have put us behind on the day. I want this…” She gestured at the pony gear scattered around the tack room. “and the stuff in the barn tidied up immediately. And don’t forget to report to the house before you go; we’ve still got the matter of your slackness this morning to discuss.”

“Yes, Miss Worthing. Of course, Miss Worthing.” Jim replied. He was struck again by the way that he was standing stark naked, except for the cage around his penis, and discussing pony play and being disciplined as if they were normal, everyday occurrences. In a few short days this amazing woman had completely changed his concept of ‘normal’ and ‘acceptable’ and he knew his life would never be the same again. As he reached for his panties Miss Worthing gave him a little conspiratorial smile. “Thank you, Miss Worthing.” He added.