The Widower

John stepped back and grabbed the towel Marie was holding in her hand, wiping off the soap that was on his hands.

'Good work, John. I think she's well lathered. You can use the hose to give her a good rinse now.'

John reached for the hose that was on the floor, and turned the valve on the sprayer, aiming the water at the soap covered woman in front of him, held in a standing spread-eagle by cuffs at ankles and wrists. Joanne squealed as the spray hit her squarely in the chest, a signal of delight.

Marie had guided John through a the whole routine of pony after care since they had taken Joanne back to the stable, removing the harness and putting it carefully to one side, before chaining her in place, hosing her down before giving her a good tip to toe soaping, Joanne showing her obvious delight in it all.

The soaping had given John a chance to see the effect of the whip that he had wielded himself, the dark weal where he had been too enthusiastic at first, the lighter criss cross that marked Joanne's shoulders and arse from his use of the whip whilst driving her.

"How long will these marks last?' he asked Marie.

'The lighter marks should go away in a day. The heavier weal might take a couple of days. Joanne heals up very well.'

John circled Joanne, using the hose with good effect, and Joanne was soon no longer covered with soap, this all swirling away down the drain in the tiled floor beneath her. Then, after turning off the hose, he dried off the pony, whilst Marie attended to her hair.

'One final job before we put the pony back into her pen, John. She needs a good massage, so she doesn't wake up stiff tomorrow. There's a massage table in the room next door. Can you handle that?'

John nodded. He knew what to do here, having done the same for Lesley on many the occasion. 'I can do that'

-*-

Joanne moaned softly as John worked at the muscles in her right leg.

'Sorry, did that hurt?'

'No, Master, that's just perfect...'

Just perfect could have described Joanne, thought John. Lying on the massage table face down, lightly glistening with a coating of massage oil that accentuated the colour of her skin, and highlighted the muscles.

'Joanne, when I first met you, you called me Sir. Now, you've switched to calling me Master.'

'Yes, Master. When you were a guest, I called you Sir. Now you're an actual Master. You've driven me, whipped me. You deserve that title.'

John switched to her left leg. 'What do you get out of this, Joanne?'

She turned her upper body and head, so she could look at John. 'A sense of belonging.'

She carried on turning, so John stopped with the massage, and sat on the end of the table, whilst Joanne sat up herself and curled her legs to one side.

'I grew up in Dorset. Dad was in the Navy, Mum was from Trinidad. I never fitted in in Dorset, and kids can be very cruel if you don't look it sound the same as everyone else.' She hugged her legs to herself. 'I started to have issues with bulimia, and put on weight, which just made the taunting worse. A teacher took me under her wing after I started to skip school, and she showed me this place.'

'The first pony ever saw was a vision. A brunette, in a harness, running around the track effortlessly. I saw how she looked, and how she held herself, and I wanted to be her. Later, I ended up in a stall next to her. I was still feeling alone, still feeling unwanted, but she broke the rules that no pony should leave their stall once the lights were out, and walked around to talk to me, and hold me when I cried.'

'Lesley...' Of course it was Lesley. John knew as soon as Joanne described her.

'Yes. She did that same thing for a few nights, until she was found in my stall next to me one night. That earned her some discipline, but she had helped me through a hard patch. Marie started to train me alongside Lesley, until she had to leave, but I kept meeting her from time to time, as we both came back for more time in the stables.'

'I felt that I had finally found a place here. I was accepted. I was even accepted when I moved here, and settled nearby.' She laid back down, on her back this time, and John started to massage her again, pouring a little oil onto her chest and massaging her shoulders.

'Joanne, will you do something for me?'

'What, Master?'

'You're going to win the race against Luci tomorrow. Don't win by too much. She's cocky, but she's going to lose, and it's going to hurt her, physically once she is whipped, and mentally, as I don't think she's ever really lost a huge amount. If she's close to you, it won't kill her confidence.'

'I understand, Master...'