The Widower

   Marie passed John a mug of tea. "How's she doing?'

John paused a moment, and looked over at Luci. She was sat, her back against a wall in the training area, her knees partly bent. She was sucking down a smoothie of some sort, still in the harness John had put on her so she could pull a tyre back and forth across the sandy floor.

He took a sip. 'Well, she certainly works better with encouragement.' He lifted his left hand, which was still holding the crop Marie had passed him that morning.

Marie nodded. 'As I said, she's a real masochist.' She paused, and looked at John. 'What do you think that means?'

'She gets off on pain.'

'You're not wrong, but that's really just skimming the surface. Have you spoken to Jane at all?'

'Yeah..' John thought a minute. 'She likes being subservient.'

'It's more than like. She needs to be subservient. It's deep seated.' She waved over at Luci. 'With Luci, she needs pain, she needs to be humiliated, she needs to be dominated. She said it herself, she needs to be broken.'

'That's what you've walked into, John. You said the words, but now you have to walk the walk. Normally, I'd say that once a pony had accepted the idea of training, we should shift her over to the stable. This one... ' she shrugged her shoulders, '.... I reckon you should keep her in the cell....'

-*-

John felt the wind shift as they passed down the field for the fifth or sixth time, and looked around. There was rain coming, he was certain.

He turned back to the plough, flicking a whip he carried in his right hand, catching Luci neatly across the backside. He smiled in satisfaction as Luci lent forward, putting a little more effort into pulling the plough. He could swear there was a little wriggle in her step, flaunting herself at him.

After a morning of having Luci doing sprints up and down the training space, he felt that she needed a break from that focus, so he had brought her outside. Marie had helped him with the harness, guiding him as he fitted a well worn wide belt around Luci's waist, a collar around her neck, the two joined by a leather strap that passed between Luci's breasts. Another strap passed between Luci's legs, buckled to both the front and back of the belt. A bridle, along with a large bit went around Luci's head, fitted with blinkers to keep her focus on the ground ahead.

Once led outside, the two of them had put Luci between the shafts of the plough, which was chained to the belt at the sides. In addition, metal cuffs attached to the shafts were closed around Luci's wrists. Marie guided John in how the plough blades could be lifted and lowered, pointed out the path to the fields, then left him to it.

Pulling the plough along a gravel path was hard enough, even if Luci was wearing a pair of hiking shoes, and there was a sheen of sweat on Luci's brow but the time they reached the field, but once the blades were in the soil, it took quite an effort on her part, and some considerable use of the whip on John's part, to get the plough moving. John had paused for a moment after two passes, to check on Luci.

She was sweating freely by then, her chest heaving, but John thought she could do with a little more, so he pulled belts and harnesses up a notch or two, constructing her waist further, pulling the bit deeper into her mouth. He paid particular attention to the belt between her legs, checking the it was neatly splitting her arse cheeks, and nestled between her labia, bringing a deep moan from Luci's bitted mouth.

They had them set off again, John marvelling at the view in front of him. He'd felt how wet she was when he adjusted the crotch belt. He'd taken the opportunity to practice whip strokes, delighting in the moan and cry that escaped Luci's mouth.

The rain was starting to fall now, a thin steady drizzle, and he thought about getting to the end of the row and stopping, but then thought again.

'Keep pulling! This entire field needs to be done before you stop!' He punctuated this with a couple of strokes with the whip, and he visibly saw Luci toss her head, like a proud animal, and increase her efforts.

Before long, he was soaked to the skin himself, but he wasn't feeling that. His focus watch on watching the drenched form in the shafts ahead of him. He could see her visibly straining, the ground getting heavier and heavier to pull the plough through. Her feet were starting to dig into the ground, mud starting to splash up her calves.

'C'mon Luci! Show me what you've got!'

By the time they reached the final row to plough, Luci was visibly tiring. The ground underneath was becoming increasingly slippery,cabd she was losing her footing, but John kept pushing her on.

Then she stumbled, falling into her knees. John left the back of the plough, heading towards her, wondering if he had gone too far, but as he approached, he saw her struggle to her feet again. He swung the whip, the wet leather landing a wicked blow across her shoulders. She threw her head back, an almost animal roar escaping the gag, but she kept pulling, and John kept using the whip, until they reached the end of the row.

She sank to her knees, the shafts of the plough dropping into the mud, pulling her hands with them. John undid the bridle, letting the bit fall out of her mouth.

'F....fucking....hell....John.....' she was fighting for breath, but her face showed the aspect he had seen after Marie's whipping. 'I thought....you'd never....done anything like this before..'