My name is Claire Fullerton, I am event groom for Hilary Furness-Smyth one of the UK's top riders, I am also her lover having left my previous life as an app developer to pursue love and my more bizarre tastes. When I last wrote to you I shared the story of the day when Sarah, Hilary's other full time groom and part time lover, double crossed me. She made H...
Chapter 1: Arrival Sarah sat in the back of her parents' car as they drove down the rural highway towards a college that had accepted her, and given her a full ride scholarship. She thought back on the letter she had gotten from a college up the road they were now driving on. She hadn't applied for it, but the school had heard of her, and sent her an accept...
Chapter 3: The Stable Sarah and Emily squirmed on their padded dais platforms. They had been hooded, gagged with ball bit gags, and had been dressed in outfits that could best be described by their inexperienced minds as horse costumes. Both girls now shuttered and squirmed and moaned helplessly as they felt their platforms begin to move. It was obvious to...
Henry had actually come up Trumps, I had barely arrived back at the farm than he took me to the big barn behind the stables, one I had never been to before, and I saw it contained a half decent training arena. "What do you think of this?" he asked. It was a little black box with a strap. "Great?" I said, wow a box with a strap wonderful. "Ha, you haven't...
I'm not what most would call "sexy." At least I don't think so. I've always been more of a tomboy; goofing off with my guy friends, telling dirty jokes, spending most of my time outside getting dirty, or making fun of those prissy girls all done up in makeup and tight scanty clothes and big strappy heels who shudder at the thought of stepping foot anywhere p...
Carl was tired of playing games with Daisy. She had been torturing the young farm hand for the three months that he had been working there--coming out to the stables where he worked in overalls and "forgetting" to wear a top under them, gently brushing his ass as she walked by, and so on. He was sick of it. She had even left him a note once, telling him to c...
WARNING TO READERS - This is a long, rambling, multi-part story and VERY British. The individual chapters will make more sense if read in sequence. Pt.18 Of horses and hand-jobs The week that followed was quite hectic for all of us. With less than a month to completion the building work at the garden centre was coming along in leaps and bounds and you co...
To really understand this story you have to go all the way back to the day that dad died. It wasn't just that he threw himself under a train, that was just the start of the nightmare. It turned out he'd been the victim of a con man and, while investing in his fool's gold, he had spent all his meager savings and mortgaged the house to the hilt. This meant tha...
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 Ne...
As Jim worked away in the stables dressed only in his socks and trainers he felt alive, liberated. The warm weather had continued and the temperature had reached the low eighties so it was much cooler working like this and the joy, the freedom of not having his penis constrained was pure bliss. What derailed this contented train of thought was the sudden rea...