The Widower

   John couldn't believe what he was looking at. He'd seen the pictures and video of his wife, heard her confession on the SD card. He'd talked with Marie, been given a brief idea of what the training involved. He'd even met Jane, who was being trained in an entirely different way.

But he still sort of didn't believe it. It was as if the last part of his disbelief was hanging from the precipice of the truth by its fingernails. And then they rounded a corner on his tour, and there it was.

'It' was a dusky Afro-Caribbean woman. She was tall, maybe six feet, with smallish breasts and long legs, encased in boots with heels that added even more to her height. Apart from he boots she was naked, except for her arms,which were held behind her back, held there by a long leather sleeve that was held by straps over her shoulders. The sleeve served to constrict and pull her arms in, and John knew, that if not actually touching, the woman's elbows were not far apart.

She was wearing a bit, held in place by a strap around the back of her head, holding down the shortish black curly hair that crowned her head. From one ring of the bit there was a long lead, the other end held by another woman, a blonde,, wearing the same sort of outfit as Marie. This other woman was in the center of the circle that the Afro -Caribbean was jogging around at the end of the lead.

No, jogging wasn't the right word. As he looked, he could see that the woman was trotting, like a fine dressage horse, lifting each leg up with each step so that the knee was level with her hips. She faltered as she came around the circle and noticed both John and Marie there, and the blonde flicked out with some kind of whip, catching the Afro-Caribbean on the back of her thighs.

Marie looked over at John. 'John, meet your first pony, Joanne..'

-*-

They had started the tour by walking around from the back of the house towards the stables, and John could see that what he could see from the drive by the gate was just part of the set of buildings that made up the facility.

There were a couple of distinct wings to the stable building when seen from this side, though the main central part did indeed look just like stables, complete with the half doors you would expect.

'We have different styles of accommodation for our ponies here, depending on what they express a preference for, ' explained Marie, as they crossed to one of the half door stables.

"The wing closest to the house is more like cells,' she continued, 'for those who want a more.... 'restrictive' stay here.' John must have looked puzzled, as Marie stopped walking a moment and looked at him. 'There's a whole range of things covered by the idea of being a pony girl. For some, there's the idea of being a draught animal, often in some sort of coerced manner.'

'So they get a prison experience?'

'Yes. I have an ex prison officer on staff for them, though there is no one in that wing at the present.'

John nodded. 'Then Lesley liked what, the experience of being a race horse?'

Marie smiled back at him. 'Yes, she loved the race, either straight racing, or pulling a sulky. Occasionally, we have actual race meets here, and she was unbeaten in her time here.' John could hear pride in Marie's voice at that.

They carried on walking, reaching the open half door of a stable. Marie waved at it, and John looked in. If he didn't know anything about the place, he would have assumed it was an ordinary horse stable. A layer of straw on the floor, a trough for food and water. Only the chain dangling from the back wall of the stable was out of place, heavy steel, with a metal collar at the end.

Marie checked a chalk board hanging outside. 'Ok, Let me take you to the training sheds. There's a dressage pony being trained right now for certain.

-*-

John didn't take his eyes off the scene in front of him, but addressed Marie. 'This is the dressage pony?'

Marie nodded, 'Yes. Joanne is a good runner, but doesn't specialize in speed. She's much better at this sort of thing, precise stepping and so on. It makes for a good carriage pony.'

John cleared his throat, he was starting to get an idea of what was being suggested here. 'A show pony, then?'

Marie smiled. 'Ahh yes. She looks very smart in a white harness, with plumes and so on.' She called over to the woman holding the carriage whip. 'What do you think, Vicki? Is Joanne in shape for a trot this evening?'

Vicki didn't address Marie at first. Instead, she looked at Joanne, who was visibly putting more effort into her stepping. 'I reckon she's up for it, don't you?'