His Aunt Nicole

[Simonssister]

Chapter 386.

“Thank you, Violet.  No problems, I hope?”
“Not at all, not at all.  I just wanted to run something past you, that’s all.  You probably won’t be interested.  I know how busy you are with coaching these days…”
“Oh, it’s not bad.  Just whipping them into shape, that’s all…”
Violet allowed herself a wry smile, and glanced at Charlotte’s long dressage whip. 
“Really?  Well, that leads me neatly to my subject.  I’ll be frank.  We don’t have any secrets from each other, after all.  Thomasina Middiford.”
“Oh!  The talk of the stables!  Have you heard the rumours?”
“I probably started some of them, dear…”
They giggled like schoolgirls.
“So, what about her.  She’s out there now, in the field, giving a group of newbies a tour.  Today it’s yellow latex.  You should see their faces!”
“I bet.  Well, I’ll tell you.  Coco – you know Coco – suggested I use her to help out Bobby in the boot parlour.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened.  “What a good idea!  The poor boy’s worked off his feet.  I was there a couple of days ago and the waiting room was so busy!  So…  Would you have her working alongside him, or…”
“I was thinking of a trial period first, just giving her one day a week by herself.  But I’m rather afraid of leaving her alone with the boys.  You understand?”
“Absolutely.  They could eat her alive!”
“Well, I was rather hoping it would be the opposite…”
“Violet!  Really!”
Another outburst of giggles.
“It would just be a trial period.  But I have no-one I could ask to supervise…”
“Which day were you thinking…?”
“Maybe Wednesday.  Give Bobby a mid-week break.”
“Would you like me…?”
“Would you?  If only till I found someone else…”
“Oh, I might be in for the long haul.  Depends how…entertaining it proves to be…”
“I’m so grateful…”
“No need, Violet.”  She licked her lips.  “I like a bit of live action.  If you’re content to put me totally in charge…”
“Of course!”
“Then let’s give it a go.  It could be fun.  I’ll be like a mistress of ceremonies…  Maybe I should bring my bullwhip…”
“I’m sure your dressage whip will be more than enough to keep everyone under control…”
“You’ll keep her in latex catsuits?”
“For the time being.  I should ask Cynthia to come up with some new designs…  And perhaps a cap.  What can I call her?  Coco suggested “boot slut”.”
“I like it.  Or boot bitch.  Let’s have a think.  So we’re starting this Wednesday?”
“If you’re free.”
“I can’t wait.  I’ll think about this further.  I have to get going, but we’ll speak again tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yes.  Okay, Charlotte.  Thanks again.  Oh, and if you see her on your way out, could you ask her to call in?  I’ll give her the good news…”

Ten minutes later there was a nervous knock at the door, and in came Thomasina, resplendent in yellow latex and red riding gloves.
“Y-you wanted to see me, miss?”
“Thomasina!  Sit down.  Good girl.  Yes, I have a new opening for you.”
“R-really, miss?”
“Yes, dear.  I’d like you to assist Bobby in the boot parlour.  You start on Wednesday.  Initially there will be a trial period when you’ll be working alone.  Don’t look so worried, dear.  Charlotte Macilveney has generously offered to supervise.  Isn’t that good of her?”
“Charlotte M-Macilveney?  The dressage specialist?”
“Indeed.”
“B-but…  I don’t have any experience…  Nanny always used to clean my shoes when I was a little girl…”
Violet leant back in her chair and regarded Thomasina with smug satisfaction. 
“But now you’re a grown-up girl, Thomasina, and you’ll be cleaning others’ boots.  You’re the ideal candidate.  If things work out I’ll get you some, er, appropriate uniforms.  For the time being just wear one of your catsuits.  This one is nice, actually.  I haven’t seen you in yellow before.  You should find it very rewarding work.  We can discuss your contract and remuneration after the trial period.  Any questions?”
She knew there was no point in arguing.  Between the collections of Miss Poole and her erstwhile friend Emily Laidlaw there was enough material to ruin her life.  She adopted a submissive tone.
“D-do I get any training, miss?”
“You can go and watch Bobby tomorrow.  While you’re there you can also supervise the waiting room.  I gather it’s very busy at present.  Make sure everyone has their turn.”
She said this with a mischievous smile, envisaging her in her latex catsuit trying to control a roomful of unruly teenage girls.  She sat silently looking at Thomasina for a whole minute, enjoying the way the latex clung to her figure, and imagining the reaction of the stable lads when they found out she was the new boot assistant.
“Yes, perfect…” she murmured.
“S-sorry, miss?”
“You can go now, Thomasina.  Are you going home like that, by the way?”
“N-no…  Mummy’s picking me up today.”
“Ah.  Pity…”

[Simonssister]

Chapter 387.

Not only had Miss Poole been the instigator of Thomasina’s latex outfits, but she had also been instrumental in engineering her mother’s acceptance of them.  Lady Middiford had been ambiguous about that first shocking pink catsuit, but by the time Thomasina had graduated to the more provocative cream one, created for Emily Laidlaw’s party by Cynthia, Violet had convinced her that her daughter was merely dressing cool and fashionable, and exploiting her natural beauty.  Since then she had taken a motherly interest in her clothes, and frequently took her to Fantastex to review the new lines.  And believing that her daughter was dressing in the height of fashion, and all the attention she accrued was born merely of admiration, insisted she travel to and from Pitt’s Wood in her work clothes.  And much as Thomasina found stimulation in the scrutiny of others, nevertheless she was eager to find a reliable form of private transport, a little car, or even a motorbike… 

Tim had been wondering how Bobby was coping without him.  He would have been relieved to know that help was on the way.  But at present he had other things on his mind, specifically the photograph on the screen of Connie’s phone.  He swallowed.
“Well?”
“W-well?”
“What do you think?”
“Oh…ah, well…  She, er, has very good, er, dress sense…”
Connie and the others burst out laughing.
“Shall I tell her that?” asked Connie.  “Tim thinks you have very good dress sense?  I can text her now…”
“No!  No, miss, don’t do that…”
He was trembling slightly as he stared at her phone, and he was blinking nervously.  He was still holding his right arm protectively over the right side of his shorts, his fingers gripping the leg frills.
“She sent you a message, too…”
“Sh-she did…?”
“Yes.  Would you like to read it?”
“Y-yes please, miss…”
Connie scrolled down.  “Here, take the phone.”  She pushed it into his free hand.  He looked, wide-eyed.
“Hi to Tim!  Do you like my party wear?  This pic is for you no one els.  I want you use it til we meet again.  If it make you c-um it mean we shood have sex.  Miss Connie will tell me.  I hope I see video. xxx”
Tim could hardly believe what he was reading.
“Th-this is really from…Kit?”
“Of course.  You know she seriously fancies you, don’t you?”
“So she’s saying…”
“She’s wants you to use her picture until she gets to see you again.  To masturbate, silly!  She wants you to show her how much you’re missing her.”
Tim stared at her.  “She does?”
Connie nodded.  It was true.  Kit had told her.  She had never had sex with a man.  She loved her girlfriend.  All the men she had met had been too pushy, too dominating, too eager to “invade my body” as she had put it.  Her technique was to let them think she was up for it, then abandon them, leaving them no satisfaction except that they could supply themselves.  But for her Tim was the sole exception, the polar opposite of all those predators.  And it was obvious to her he was a sexy guy.  And she wanted a demonstration of his feelings for her.
He stood there staring at the phone in his hand.  He looked almost scared of it.
“Well you could wait for the poster, I suppose, but that wouldn’t be very gallant, now would it?”
“Shall I…?”
“Do it, Tim!” cried Frieda.
“Go on!  Show Kit how you feel about her!” added Bridget.
He glanced at them, but his gaze quickly returned to the phone.  Connie knew they had him.  He was technically an adult, but in terms of his sexual predilections he was still a young teenager, for whom a photo of a beautiful woman, especially the very woman he was fixated on, was the perfect substitute for the real thing.
“Okay…  I shall…” 

[Simonssister]

Chapter 388.

Connie retreated quietly to her seat, and picked up her glass.  Tim dropped all pretence.  Staring at the phone, he began to finger the shaft of his erection through the taut latex.  The ladies watched, fascinated.
“Interesting technique,” murmured Frieda.  He was rolling it back and forth, as if he were kneading a cylinder of plasticine.  He slid it about – it must have been lubricating freely for some time - until it was in a comfortable masturbating position, at about forty-five degrees to his zip.  He began to massage it with his finger tips, latex squeaking against latex.  His breathing was punctuated with little moans of pleasure.  The ladies looked at each other and fidgeted in their chairs.  Now he was alternating between squeezing it and using a finger against the underside of the glans.  His eyes, though half closed, were glued to the phone screen.  He began to mumble.
“Kit…I want you so much…  My coc-k is so hard, just looking at you…”
At this point Bridget almost choked trying to suppress a fit of giggles.  Tim didn’t even notice.
“In a moment…you’ll see…I’m going to do such a big c-um…”  He shuddered, and momentarily took his hand off his coc-k…  A deep breath…and then he was off again. 
“That’s an amazing outfit…  What sort of boots are you wearing?  I’ll clean them for you every day…twice a day…I’ll do anything you want…please…”
“Ah, now we get to the truth,” whispered Connie.  “That is what he really wants.  Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” agreed Bridget.  “Not only that, but to be her little pet.  And from what I’ve seen of  Kit, that would really appeal to her…”
And they all sniggered.
“Yes,” grinned Frieda.  “I can just see him on a leash…”

Tim was getting perilously near a climax.  His fingers worked in a slow cadence, as if he were milking an udder, accompanied by faint juicy ploppings emanating from inside the taut latex.  His eyes were half closed now, the hand holding the phone had dropped, and his commentary had subsided into a series of hardly audible groans and squeaks.  The right leg band of his shorts slid up and down in time with his movements, and a glistening bead of sticky juice was trickling down his thigh.  The ladies were no longer talking, but leaning forward on tenterhooks, waiting for the climax.  Tim was right on the edge.  He barely dared to touch it now – it was nearly at his hip, like a firm sausage, the latex taut, moulded to its length, twitching of its own accord.
“Go on, Tim,” breathed Bridget, “just let go, silly…”
Let’s give him a hand,” whispered Connie, turning the remote up a couple of notches.  That did it.  The first sign they had that he had capitulated was when Connie’s phone slipped out of his hand.  There was a momentary pause, and then he gasped, shuddered, crossed his thighs, and grabbed the leg frills.
“Oh, gosh!  Miss!  I’m…ooh….”
The ladies couldn’t suppress their laughter.  He was so cute when he came.  But he didn’t even notice.  His eyes were tight shut.  Spasm after spasm ran through him, and c-um streamed down his right leg.  Somehow he remained standing.  The ladies watched with amusement until the last tremor had died away, and he reopened his eyes.  He looked somewhat disoriented.  They gave him a little round of applause.
“I-I’m sorry, miss…  I didn’t actually mean to…do that…”
“Nonsense, Tim,” said Connie, suppressing her desire to laugh out loud, “that was very impressive.  It looked very intense.  Was it?”
“Yes…  I quite forgot where I was…  I was just thinking of…”
“Kit?”
“Y-yes…”
“Well, I think you’ve totally proved yourself.”
“You were amazing,” added Frieda.  “You should be proud of yourself.”
Tim smiled faintly.  He let go of the slimy leg band and stretched his arms.
“Did I do it well?  I really tried.  And I didn’t collapse at the end there, though I could have done.  Do you think Kit…”
“She’ll be so happy,” said Bridget.  “When she sees the video I bet she won’t be able to wait to return.”
They let him preen himself for a few minutes.  Connie brought him a drink, put on her rubber gloves – the maid-tidy was a mess - and knelt down to unlock his ankle cuffs.
“We’ll get you cleaned up, then we have time for one more outfit this evening.  No more orgasms for you tonight, young man.  At least, not before bedtime,” she added, with a wink.

[Simonssister]

Chapter 389.

Once out of the shower, Tim presented himself again in the big living-room, which served as his changing room.
“So…  What am I modelling next?”
“You’ll be happy.  Another pageboy.  But this time more of a fun one.”
“Oh?  In what way, miss?”
“Here’s the tunic.  This might give you a clue.”
“So what’s the difference?  Apart from the fact it’s pink?  Oh…”  He had noticed the legend on the front and back of the tunic.  “Piggy Pageboy?  What’s with that, miss?”
“Let’s get it on and I’ll explain.”
“Does it have…a posture trainer?”
“Well, of course.  It’s a necessity.  But this one’s a little more user-friendly.  The user being your mistress, naturally…  I’ll show you.  On the inside…see?”
Protruding from the seat was what appeared to be a plastic cylinder with a spherical tip, not more than four inches long.  But it was sheathed in a translucent pink rubber bulb, presently floppy and deflated.  On the outside it manifested itself as a little inflated tail.  She helped him on with the shorts and pulled them up.
“What’s great about this is that it pops in so easily.”  She suited the action to the word.  The plug slipped in effortlessly.
“Now let’s zip you up…  buckle the belt…so…  Now I’ll show you how easily it is to operate.  There’s valves on the air intake for the tail, and the interior bulb.  So if I squeeze the tail…so…you can feel the bulb inflating, right?”
“Yes…miss…  I can…”
“A few good pumps and it’s nice and firm. Yes?”
“No more, miss…  Please…”
“Okay.  You see the air is forced along the tube and comes out of those little tiny holes just behind the spherical end.  The valve prevents it flowing back, so once it’s inflated, I’m afraid there’s no removing it – unless your know the secret method.”  She laughed.  “Which you don’t.  At the same time the tail is designed to keep its shape.  Do not upset your mistress when you’re wearing this, or she may be tempted to give it an extra squeeze!  Not comfortable!  Of course, the plug itself has all the usual pulse and vibe effects, which I can demonstrate…”
“Not now, please miss!”
“Okay.  Maybe later then.  Come on.  You’re ready.  Let’s get you back on the maid-tidy.”

He was soon chained into place again.  His audience regarded him with satisfaction.
“I don’t understand.  What’s this “piggy” thing?”
“Ah.  Frieda…  Maybe you’d care to explain…”
“Sure.  You see, Tim, when Kit was here we were talking about what a wonderful pet you’d make.  ESDS are proposing to advertise some of their boys as pets rather than maids.  Some women prefer to have a pet.  Pets are lucky.  They tend to get spoiled, fed well, played with a lot, and so on.  All right, they might have to sleep in a kennel or a basket or be kept in a cage, and they have to wear a locking collar and ring so their mistresses can put them on a leash, but you wouldn’t mind that, would you?”
“So that’s what this collar’s for…?
“Yes.  Do you like the idea?  I’m sure you must.  All your mistress has to do is clip on your lead, and then you have to follow her wherever she goes.  She can take you to a party, and everyone will say, “oh, what a pretty piggy!  Where did you get him?  Can I squeeze his tail?”  What fun!   Kit thought you’d make a pretty puppy.  But I immediately thought of a little piglet.  Piglets are cute like you, and they squeak and squeal a lot when they get excited – just like you did earlier – and they can get themselves into such a sticky mess too – just like you also did.  And it all ends in tears.  So it seems my intuition was correct.”
“Turn round and waggle your tail for us,” said Connie.
Tim did as he was instructed.
“So how do you feel about being a piggy pet?”
The plug felt firm enough inside him for Tim to resolve to be as compliant as possible.
“Yes, it sounds okay…”
“Good boy.  I’ll make a note to tell Cassandra she can put you in as a maid, pageboy, or pet, yes?”
“Er,  yes, I suppose, miss…”
“Well don’t look so miserable about it – unless you want to be hired out as a houseboy, and be forced to do all the dirty, unpleasant tasks…”
“No, of course not. miss,” he blurted, indignantly.  That wouldn’t be fair.  I’ve been really good.  I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.  I’m a fully-trained pageboy!  Houseboy?  That the pits!  I’m sure Miss Cassandra wouldn’t do such a thing…”
“I beg your pardon?” cried Connie, outraged.  “Who do you think you are?  Do you think you have any rights here?  How dare you express an opinion about what you will or won’t do, or what’s fair or unfair.  You need a lesson young man.” 
She frowned.  “Right.  Tomorrow you can be our houseboy for the day, so you understand exactly what it means.  Yes, it would be good experience for you.  You’ll realise just how tolerant we’ve been, and how lucky you were to be sent here.  Houseboys are virtually slaves.  They even sleep chained up.  They wear chastity devices permanently – no relief.  And they’re forbidden to speak, let alone answer back.  One word and out comes the ball gag.  Oh, you know what?  I have one piece of houseboy training equipment right to hand.  Want to see it?  No?  Well you’re going to.  Don’t move – oh, you can’t, can you?  I’ll be right back.”