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The Widower
- Thread starter TheLimey
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TheLimey
Magistrate
Prologue.
'Did you see that White Cottage has a new inhabitant?'
Marie put her tea cup down, and looked across the table to her friend.
'New? That means that Lesley has finally passed then. Poor love...'
Marie wiped a tear from her eye before continuing. 'Do we know who's taken the place over?'
'Well, according to Jo, it seems to be her husband...'
Of course Jo would know, Jo was the estate agent's assistant, and she was also a notorious gossip. She was also currently a guest of Marie's
'Has Jo had her exercise today?' asked Marie, receiving a shake of the head by way of reply. 'Well then, thank her for that bit of information, but please make sure she understands that gossip is not something we allow around here. I'll leave the method up to you.'
Marie sipped her tea. Lesley's husband. She thought back to the letter she had received 6 months back. Lesley had said her husband would arrive after she had died, and that at some point, he would approach her, with questions that Lesley herself would no longer be able to answer.
She'd be ready.
'Did you see that White Cottage has a new inhabitant?'
Marie put her tea cup down, and looked across the table to her friend.
'New? That means that Lesley has finally passed then. Poor love...'
Marie wiped a tear from her eye before continuing. 'Do we know who's taken the place over?'
'Well, according to Jo, it seems to be her husband...'
Of course Jo would know, Jo was the estate agent's assistant, and she was also a notorious gossip. She was also currently a guest of Marie's
'Has Jo had her exercise today?' asked Marie, receiving a shake of the head by way of reply. 'Well then, thank her for that bit of information, but please make sure she understands that gossip is not something we allow around here. I'll leave the method up to you.'
Marie sipped her tea. Lesley's husband. She thought back to the letter she had received 6 months back. Lesley had said her husband would arrive after she had died, and that at some point, he would approach her, with questions that Lesley herself would no longer be able to answer.
She'd be ready.
thecuriousone
Governor
Hmmmmm let's see where this is going....
TheLimey
Magistrate
Chapter 1
John closed the door and put down his bags. It was strange, despite being married to Lesley for 10 years, this was one place that he had never been to with his wife. This was her private sanctum, a place she retreated to at least four times a year for a couple of weeks each time. 'A space to clear my mind and work out my kinks' as she had described it.
It had taken him a day to get to Dartmoor from London, from the place he and Lesley had lived in, worked on to make their own, then finally had worked on to keep Lesley comfortable as the cancer has overtaken her. She died in the hospital bed they had put in downstairs, three months ago.
Lesley was so clever, even towards the end. He could still replay the conversation.
'I'm going to die soon John. I want you to do something when I'm gone.'
He was sat on the bed, holding her thin hands in his own. 'Anything'
'Leave this place, John. Sell it, rent it out, but don't stay here.' She reached for a legal envelope on the table by the bed. 'There's a set of keys in here John. They're the keys to my cottage. I want you to go live up there for a while.'
'Why?'
'I want you to see it. I should have taken you up there before John, but it's too late now, my love. There's a series of letters in there as well. I want you to promise you won't open any of them until you reach the cottage.'
He had followed those instructions. Packing away some items for storage, selling a whole bunch of stuff, before putting the London house up for rent. Here he was, in the cottage, a couple of duffle bags and a laptop bag his only luggage.
He reached for the light switch, and flicked the lights on. In the light, he could see Lesley 's touch behind everything he saw. It was a comfy room, throw rugs on the floor, a small couch alongside a small fireplace, a coffee table between that and a high backed armchair. Various pictures hung on the wall, but he didn't look at them. Instead he dropped his bags in the armchair, and crossed to the door in the far wall. A kitchen and dining area, very much fitting the character of this old cottage, a huge wooden table in the center, an Aga for both cooking and heating, the sink below the window, next to the door to the back garden.
There was a note on the table, from the estate agent in the area, saying the fridge has been stocked up ready. Must have been the work of the assistant, he thought. He'd interacted with her a couple of times... Joanne, that was her name.
An open sided staircase was on one wall, and John had started to walk towards it when a wave anxiety washed over him. Lesley had been his wife, but this was her space, somewhere he hadn't been to during all the time they had been married. Maybe it was tiredness, maybe it was another twisted knot of grief, but he couldn't go upstairs right now, into her space.
Instead, he turned back to the first room, took off his shoes and jacket, turned off the light, and settled on the couch. He took a pull at the flask of whiskey he had kept with him since Lesley's death, then set it on the floor.
Soon, he had dropped to sleep.
John closed the door and put down his bags. It was strange, despite being married to Lesley for 10 years, this was one place that he had never been to with his wife. This was her private sanctum, a place she retreated to at least four times a year for a couple of weeks each time. 'A space to clear my mind and work out my kinks' as she had described it.
It had taken him a day to get to Dartmoor from London, from the place he and Lesley had lived in, worked on to make their own, then finally had worked on to keep Lesley comfortable as the cancer has overtaken her. She died in the hospital bed they had put in downstairs, three months ago.
Lesley was so clever, even towards the end. He could still replay the conversation.
'I'm going to die soon John. I want you to do something when I'm gone.'
He was sat on the bed, holding her thin hands in his own. 'Anything'
'Leave this place, John. Sell it, rent it out, but don't stay here.' She reached for a legal envelope on the table by the bed. 'There's a set of keys in here John. They're the keys to my cottage. I want you to go live up there for a while.'
'Why?'
'I want you to see it. I should have taken you up there before John, but it's too late now, my love. There's a series of letters in there as well. I want you to promise you won't open any of them until you reach the cottage.'
He had followed those instructions. Packing away some items for storage, selling a whole bunch of stuff, before putting the London house up for rent. Here he was, in the cottage, a couple of duffle bags and a laptop bag his only luggage.
He reached for the light switch, and flicked the lights on. In the light, he could see Lesley 's touch behind everything he saw. It was a comfy room, throw rugs on the floor, a small couch alongside a small fireplace, a coffee table between that and a high backed armchair. Various pictures hung on the wall, but he didn't look at them. Instead he dropped his bags in the armchair, and crossed to the door in the far wall. A kitchen and dining area, very much fitting the character of this old cottage, a huge wooden table in the center, an Aga for both cooking and heating, the sink below the window, next to the door to the back garden.
There was a note on the table, from the estate agent in the area, saying the fridge has been stocked up ready. Must have been the work of the assistant, he thought. He'd interacted with her a couple of times... Joanne, that was her name.
An open sided staircase was on one wall, and John had started to walk towards it when a wave anxiety washed over him. Lesley had been his wife, but this was her space, somewhere he hadn't been to during all the time they had been married. Maybe it was tiredness, maybe it was another twisted knot of grief, but he couldn't go upstairs right now, into her space.
Instead, he turned back to the first room, took off his shoes and jacket, turned off the light, and settled on the couch. He took a pull at the flask of whiskey he had kept with him since Lesley's death, then set it on the floor.
Soon, he had dropped to sleep.
TheLimey
Magistrate
Chapter 2
John woke up early, the dawn light creeping into the living room. He'd forgotten to close the curtains. Not that he slept all that well right now.
Yawning, he stumbled into the kitchen. Where would the coffee be? It was wryly amusing. It had been years since he had bumbled around a stranger's place, looking for mugs and coffee. He found both, then successfully managed to get the kettle working.
He looked out of the window above the sink, seeing the path leading down the well kept garden, hemmed in on all sides by a dry stone wall. There was a shed half way down, which bore all the hallmarks of it containing all the necessary equipment to maintain the garden. At the far end, a larger building, garage sized. He could see the lock on the door. The path carried on to the wall at the far end, a small gate granting access to a continuation of the path, out onto the moor.
The kettle whistling interrupted his gazing, and he went at making the coffee. Once done, he went back to the living room, grabbing both his phone and the laptop bag, before he settled again at the table in the kitchen.
There was a message on his phone, from the estate agents. 'Please call at your earliest convenience' He checked the time. 7am, a little early even for a small country estate agent. He'd call in a couple of hours.
He reached instead for the laptop bag, opening it up and pulling out the legal envelope that Lesley had given him. He paused. This was a place she had wanted to bring him to, but never managed, a place all of her own. But she had given him the keys, told him to spend some time living here.
He opened the envelope, pulling out a sheet of paper covered in her spidery handwriting, and two other envelopes. One of the envelopes felt like it contained a key. He put the two envelopes aside, and started reading.
'My Dearest Love,
If you are reading this letter, I already know that you're sat in my cottage on Dartmoor. You're far too honest and straight to have cheated and disobeyed my instructions. It's one reason I loved you and married you.
As you know, Cornwall is where I grew up, and where I learned to run...'
John smiled at this. Running was Lesley's one obsession. She ran six days a week, running half marathon distances on both Saturday and Sunday. He could tell when she had had a good run, as she'd come straight into the bedroom, exhausted and dripping sweat, and they'd fuck, Lesley soaking the sheets with her sweat and the copious amounts of her juices that such a session would release.
'... When I started running, I had raw ability. It's at a facility around here that I learned discipline in running. The facility... has unusual training methods, but for a teenager, and then as a University student, it gave me what I needed. When I left Uni, I knew that I couldn't train the same way in London, so I bought this place, and would come down here when I needed to, when I needed the discipline again. I also loved running the moors, and as this area is so quiet and isolated, I often ran them in less athletic gear than Hampstead Heath would accept...
The envelope with the key is for the building by the gate out back. I set this up as my personal 'pain cave', where I could run on a treadmill if the weather was foul, and where I would prep myself for runs across the moors. Once you're ready, open it up, and take a look. It's certainly going to create more questions, but only after you've seen the pain cave should you open up the final envelope.
I'm sorry my love, I always wanted to bring you here and show you this, but I could never find the courage to do so. Forgive me, John, and remember, that so much of what you loved about me sprang from here.
Lesley.'
John sat back, uncertain what to make of the letter. An athletic training facility with unorthodox methods? He didn't really follow athletics, but he was pretty certain that athletes would do what ever they could to get an edge. Lesley made no secret that she had run for her University team. Hell, the athlete's body is what he noticed about her first, the thin build, small high breasts, the way the muscles moved beneath her skin. He thought about what she had said about running the moors, and his mind conjured up an image of her, naked as the day she was born, striding along paths across the granite. An image that pulled at his heart, but also made him smile.
He picked up the envelope with the key. He could go take a look now, could see what was hidden in there,... No. He needed to get himself situated in here. He needed to unpack, shower, eat... There'd be time later in the day.
John woke up early, the dawn light creeping into the living room. He'd forgotten to close the curtains. Not that he slept all that well right now.
Yawning, he stumbled into the kitchen. Where would the coffee be? It was wryly amusing. It had been years since he had bumbled around a stranger's place, looking for mugs and coffee. He found both, then successfully managed to get the kettle working.
He looked out of the window above the sink, seeing the path leading down the well kept garden, hemmed in on all sides by a dry stone wall. There was a shed half way down, which bore all the hallmarks of it containing all the necessary equipment to maintain the garden. At the far end, a larger building, garage sized. He could see the lock on the door. The path carried on to the wall at the far end, a small gate granting access to a continuation of the path, out onto the moor.
The kettle whistling interrupted his gazing, and he went at making the coffee. Once done, he went back to the living room, grabbing both his phone and the laptop bag, before he settled again at the table in the kitchen.
There was a message on his phone, from the estate agents. 'Please call at your earliest convenience' He checked the time. 7am, a little early even for a small country estate agent. He'd call in a couple of hours.
He reached instead for the laptop bag, opening it up and pulling out the legal envelope that Lesley had given him. He paused. This was a place she had wanted to bring him to, but never managed, a place all of her own. But she had given him the keys, told him to spend some time living here.
He opened the envelope, pulling out a sheet of paper covered in her spidery handwriting, and two other envelopes. One of the envelopes felt like it contained a key. He put the two envelopes aside, and started reading.
'My Dearest Love,
If you are reading this letter, I already know that you're sat in my cottage on Dartmoor. You're far too honest and straight to have cheated and disobeyed my instructions. It's one reason I loved you and married you.
As you know, Cornwall is where I grew up, and where I learned to run...'
John smiled at this. Running was Lesley's one obsession. She ran six days a week, running half marathon distances on both Saturday and Sunday. He could tell when she had had a good run, as she'd come straight into the bedroom, exhausted and dripping sweat, and they'd fuck, Lesley soaking the sheets with her sweat and the copious amounts of her juices that such a session would release.
'... When I started running, I had raw ability. It's at a facility around here that I learned discipline in running. The facility... has unusual training methods, but for a teenager, and then as a University student, it gave me what I needed. When I left Uni, I knew that I couldn't train the same way in London, so I bought this place, and would come down here when I needed to, when I needed the discipline again. I also loved running the moors, and as this area is so quiet and isolated, I often ran them in less athletic gear than Hampstead Heath would accept...
The envelope with the key is for the building by the gate out back. I set this up as my personal 'pain cave', where I could run on a treadmill if the weather was foul, and where I would prep myself for runs across the moors. Once you're ready, open it up, and take a look. It's certainly going to create more questions, but only after you've seen the pain cave should you open up the final envelope.
I'm sorry my love, I always wanted to bring you here and show you this, but I could never find the courage to do so. Forgive me, John, and remember, that so much of what you loved about me sprang from here.
Lesley.'
John sat back, uncertain what to make of the letter. An athletic training facility with unorthodox methods? He didn't really follow athletics, but he was pretty certain that athletes would do what ever they could to get an edge. Lesley made no secret that she had run for her University team. Hell, the athlete's body is what he noticed about her first, the thin build, small high breasts, the way the muscles moved beneath her skin. He thought about what she had said about running the moors, and his mind conjured up an image of her, naked as the day she was born, striding along paths across the granite. An image that pulled at his heart, but also made him smile.
He picked up the envelope with the key. He could go take a look now, could see what was hidden in there,... No. He needed to get himself situated in here. He needed to unpack, shower, eat... There'd be time later in the day.
Great start, very intriguing story. One small point - Dartmoor isn't actually in Cornwall, it's in Devon. But maybe that's part of the mystery? Or she just bought the cottage as it was near enough to her native Duchy, and she couldn't find one to buy on Bodmin Moor?
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Compelling reading, just the right level of suspense! I’m already imagining some pretty dark versions for “unorthodox training methods” but will refrain from reading ahead, at least not here! 
TheLimey
Magistrate
I'll admit, I'm from Yorkshire, and I've always thought Dartmoor = Southwest = Cornwall.. mea culpa.
It'll still make sense.... Born in Cornwall, the story takes place next door...
TheLimey
Magistrate
Chapter 3
It took John until noon to get himself sorted out in the house. He'd managed breakfast, a good round of eggs and what he presumed was local bacon, given that it wasn't prepackaged like you find in the supermarket, then after, had called the estate agents to thank them, and in particular, Joanne, for setting everything up. The girl on the other end of the phone had said Joanne was out on holiday for two weeks, but they would pass on the message once she was back.
He had taken his bags upstairs, finding a neat bedroom, Lesley's influence all over it. The room occupied almost the entire of the upper floor, the staircase coming up into one corner, a wardrobe and chest of drawers along one wall, and the bed positioned against another, so that the light of the morning would stream through the windows and onto the bed. A small bedside table had a framed picture on it. Himself and Lesley, he dressed casually, she dressed in sweat soaked running gear, grinning from ear to ear, a London Marathon medal around her neck. He sat in the bed for a while, turning it over in his hands. It must have been the first marathon she had run, as she had run it more than once, but this was whilst they were still just boyfriend and girlfriend. He had massaged her aching muscles that night, he remembered. It was only a few weeks later that they had moved in together and a year later they were married.
Behind a door in the wall opposite the bed was the bathroom, a free standing bath taking up a lot of the space, a toilet situated in the corner, under the window. It suddenly occured to him that he needed to use both the toilet and the bath so he stripped, finding a stack of fresh towels on a stand, and both soap and shampoo on the bath. The water was warm in the bath, and he let it wash away the travel weariness and the stress.
Washed and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt he pulled from his bag, he had unpacked, placing things in the wardrobe and drawers, then had gone downstairs, grabbing another cup of coffee before he went into the living room. The pictures on the wall caught his eye, a series of framed photos, all of them of Lesley and him, all of her having done some running event.
All except one. The last picture, smaller than the rest. A young Lesley, before he had met her, maybe whilst she was at University, or even at school. She was again in athletic gear, with her arm around another girl, almost the same build and height, another runner for certain, but raven haired whilst Lesley was brunette. They both looked as sweaty and disheveled as each other. Both wore medals, Lesley's gold, the other girl's silver. He took the picture down, and on a whim, opened up the back. 'To my Darling Lesley... One day I'll beat you... Love Marie'
The way they held each other, they were more than just friends, for certain. John wasn't surprised to see this. Lesley had made it clear she had been bisexual from the start, but seeing his wife with someone else, even they hadn't met when this photo was taken, was a little odd.
He had a good lunch, and he made a mental note that he would have to do something special for Joanne when she got back from her holiday. Then he couldn't resist it any further. He grabbed the envelope with the key, and set off down the path to the 'pain cave'
The building was completely windowless, and the door was the only way in or out. The key moved in the lock easily when John tried and then he was inside. In the light if the day he easily found the light switch just inside, and flicked it on, closing the door behind him as he did.
A series of banks of lights, all hanging from the roof came in, lighting up the room brightly. The room would have put some gyms to shame. Off center in the room, closer to the left hand wall, and placed so they all faced a large flat panel TV on the wall were a treadmill, a stair climber and a multi gym weight machine.
The wall opposite them had a series of storage cabinets, like gym lockers, each closed, and in the far corner, an open shower stall, almost industrial in look, the showerhead set into the wall and the floor simply tile with what looked like a drain in the middle. Along the wall from the shower, opposite the door, was a thin mattress, with something covered in a dark cloth between it and the shower.
John wandered in, looking at the equipment. It wasn't the latest, but it all looked well maintained. He started up the stairs machine, and it came up just as expected, no glitches, no issues, nothing wrong at all. He glanced toward the flat screen, and saw that there was a remote pocket attached to the wall.
Curious, he went for it and turned it on. The screen came into life, and John started to see that it didn't go to a menu, or a TV show, but instead showed a series of video feeds of the room now, focussing on the machines from the front and, for the treadmill, from one side and also the back. There were even screens focusing on the mattress and the cloth draped thing by the wall.
He started to look closely, and he could see where the cameras were placed now. He noticed an outline around the screen showing the treadmill, and he pressed a red button on the remote, and the screen filled with the view just from that camera. Another press, and it went back to the series of views. A few more button presses, and he even managed to get the screens to switch around, showing the view of each gym machine.
There was a small button on the remote labelled menu, and he pressed this, the screen presenting a series of options. One was marked files, and he navigated towards that, and hit enter, revealing a series of dated files, all of them earlier than when Lesley had stopped coming here, due to the cancer. He picked one at random, and pressed enter again.
The screen switched to the composite shot of the room again. He scanned the screens, but then his attention was drawn to Lesley walking into shot, the remote in her hand. She was naked bar the running shoes on her feet. The screen changed to show just the treadmill, and she climbed in board, setting it in motion. She went from a jog, to a trot, to a steady distance eating run, a distance runners pace, and John felt his heart soar. She was so fucking beautiful.
He carried on watching, seeing her focus on her pace, her breathing, watching the sweat start to sheen her body, hearing her breathing echo in the room. He realized that the lights served to heat the room as well, and he realized that he also was sweating. There was a clock in the bottom corner, 15 minutes had elapsed. At 30 minutes, she slowed the machine and stopped it, then stepped off the machine, heading out of view to where the gym lockers were. He couldn't see what she was doing, but could hear her opening and closing one of the doors.
When she came back into shot, a little under 10 minutes later, he gasped. She was still nude, but now there was some kind of leather harness around her head. He could see what looked like a bit for a horse pulled between her teeth, a series of straps holding it in place. He could clearly see a chain was around her waist, one end of it pulled down between her legs, obviously pulled tight, as he could see how it nipped in her waist, and how it disappeared between the folds of her cunt. She climbed back into the treadmill, and she reached forward to set up a program, and John noticed the handcuff locked around one wrist, the other dangling loose. She set the program running, then pulled both wrists behind her back, obviously cuffing them together there.
John didn't know what to think, he had no idea that this was something his wife, his Lesley would do. Is this what she meant by unorthodox training techniques? Lesley started to walk, then jog, and then finally settle into the same long pace she had before. With her wrists behind her back, it pushed her chest forward, and John couldn't help but see how hard her nipples were. He also couldn't miss that due to the gag in her mouth, she was drooling, strings of it dripping from her open mouth, coating her chin and mixing with the fresh sweat on her chest.
John couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, seeing his wife, running like she was....a race horse. He felt his erection rising, and as he realized how turned on he was, he wondered what the chain through her crotch was doing to her. As he freed his cock from his pants, he suddenly realized that perhaps she wore a chain when she ran in London, and when she did, she came home and fucked him.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, on she ran, and John couldn't help but marvel at her. He also couldn't help but masturbate, coming just as the treadmill seemed to kick into a higher gear, forcing Lesley into a near sprint for what seemed far longer than he knew she could maintain. Then, with an audible moan on the soundtrack, the machine slowed, and Lesley slowed with it, her chest heaving, her hair hanging lank around her face. The machine stopped, and she staggered off it, and John wondered if that was the end of the recording.
The view changed to one of the mattress by the wall, Lesley, still wearing the harness, but free from the chain and the cuffs came into view, pulling the cover off the thing by the mattress. What it was was instantly clear. She pulled the machine closer to the mattress, then dropped to all fours in front of it. He could see the dildo on the end of an arm, and watched, his erection springing anew, as she impaled herself on it. Then, she twisted a control in her hand, and with wide open eyes, he watched his beloved wife be fucked by a machine.
Even though he hadn't seen his wife for six months, hadn't had sex for at least three more months before that, he knew when she was about to come, and he wanked himself, holding himself back until she tossed her head back and screamed behind the bit. As she came he came, then sank to his knees crying, as she carried on coming, twice more, until she pulled herself off the dildo, slumped down onto the mattress, and shut off the camera.
It took John until noon to get himself sorted out in the house. He'd managed breakfast, a good round of eggs and what he presumed was local bacon, given that it wasn't prepackaged like you find in the supermarket, then after, had called the estate agents to thank them, and in particular, Joanne, for setting everything up. The girl on the other end of the phone had said Joanne was out on holiday for two weeks, but they would pass on the message once she was back.
He had taken his bags upstairs, finding a neat bedroom, Lesley's influence all over it. The room occupied almost the entire of the upper floor, the staircase coming up into one corner, a wardrobe and chest of drawers along one wall, and the bed positioned against another, so that the light of the morning would stream through the windows and onto the bed. A small bedside table had a framed picture on it. Himself and Lesley, he dressed casually, she dressed in sweat soaked running gear, grinning from ear to ear, a London Marathon medal around her neck. He sat in the bed for a while, turning it over in his hands. It must have been the first marathon she had run, as she had run it more than once, but this was whilst they were still just boyfriend and girlfriend. He had massaged her aching muscles that night, he remembered. It was only a few weeks later that they had moved in together and a year later they were married.
Behind a door in the wall opposite the bed was the bathroom, a free standing bath taking up a lot of the space, a toilet situated in the corner, under the window. It suddenly occured to him that he needed to use both the toilet and the bath so he stripped, finding a stack of fresh towels on a stand, and both soap and shampoo on the bath. The water was warm in the bath, and he let it wash away the travel weariness and the stress.
Washed and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt he pulled from his bag, he had unpacked, placing things in the wardrobe and drawers, then had gone downstairs, grabbing another cup of coffee before he went into the living room. The pictures on the wall caught his eye, a series of framed photos, all of them of Lesley and him, all of her having done some running event.
All except one. The last picture, smaller than the rest. A young Lesley, before he had met her, maybe whilst she was at University, or even at school. She was again in athletic gear, with her arm around another girl, almost the same build and height, another runner for certain, but raven haired whilst Lesley was brunette. They both looked as sweaty and disheveled as each other. Both wore medals, Lesley's gold, the other girl's silver. He took the picture down, and on a whim, opened up the back. 'To my Darling Lesley... One day I'll beat you... Love Marie'
The way they held each other, they were more than just friends, for certain. John wasn't surprised to see this. Lesley had made it clear she had been bisexual from the start, but seeing his wife with someone else, even they hadn't met when this photo was taken, was a little odd.
He had a good lunch, and he made a mental note that he would have to do something special for Joanne when she got back from her holiday. Then he couldn't resist it any further. He grabbed the envelope with the key, and set off down the path to the 'pain cave'
The building was completely windowless, and the door was the only way in or out. The key moved in the lock easily when John tried and then he was inside. In the light if the day he easily found the light switch just inside, and flicked it on, closing the door behind him as he did.
A series of banks of lights, all hanging from the roof came in, lighting up the room brightly. The room would have put some gyms to shame. Off center in the room, closer to the left hand wall, and placed so they all faced a large flat panel TV on the wall were a treadmill, a stair climber and a multi gym weight machine.
The wall opposite them had a series of storage cabinets, like gym lockers, each closed, and in the far corner, an open shower stall, almost industrial in look, the showerhead set into the wall and the floor simply tile with what looked like a drain in the middle. Along the wall from the shower, opposite the door, was a thin mattress, with something covered in a dark cloth between it and the shower.
John wandered in, looking at the equipment. It wasn't the latest, but it all looked well maintained. He started up the stairs machine, and it came up just as expected, no glitches, no issues, nothing wrong at all. He glanced toward the flat screen, and saw that there was a remote pocket attached to the wall.
Curious, he went for it and turned it on. The screen came into life, and John started to see that it didn't go to a menu, or a TV show, but instead showed a series of video feeds of the room now, focussing on the machines from the front and, for the treadmill, from one side and also the back. There were even screens focusing on the mattress and the cloth draped thing by the wall.
He started to look closely, and he could see where the cameras were placed now. He noticed an outline around the screen showing the treadmill, and he pressed a red button on the remote, and the screen filled with the view just from that camera. Another press, and it went back to the series of views. A few more button presses, and he even managed to get the screens to switch around, showing the view of each gym machine.
There was a small button on the remote labelled menu, and he pressed this, the screen presenting a series of options. One was marked files, and he navigated towards that, and hit enter, revealing a series of dated files, all of them earlier than when Lesley had stopped coming here, due to the cancer. He picked one at random, and pressed enter again.
The screen switched to the composite shot of the room again. He scanned the screens, but then his attention was drawn to Lesley walking into shot, the remote in her hand. She was naked bar the running shoes on her feet. The screen changed to show just the treadmill, and she climbed in board, setting it in motion. She went from a jog, to a trot, to a steady distance eating run, a distance runners pace, and John felt his heart soar. She was so fucking beautiful.
He carried on watching, seeing her focus on her pace, her breathing, watching the sweat start to sheen her body, hearing her breathing echo in the room. He realized that the lights served to heat the room as well, and he realized that he also was sweating. There was a clock in the bottom corner, 15 minutes had elapsed. At 30 minutes, she slowed the machine and stopped it, then stepped off the machine, heading out of view to where the gym lockers were. He couldn't see what she was doing, but could hear her opening and closing one of the doors.
When she came back into shot, a little under 10 minutes later, he gasped. She was still nude, but now there was some kind of leather harness around her head. He could see what looked like a bit for a horse pulled between her teeth, a series of straps holding it in place. He could clearly see a chain was around her waist, one end of it pulled down between her legs, obviously pulled tight, as he could see how it nipped in her waist, and how it disappeared between the folds of her cunt. She climbed back into the treadmill, and she reached forward to set up a program, and John noticed the handcuff locked around one wrist, the other dangling loose. She set the program running, then pulled both wrists behind her back, obviously cuffing them together there.
John didn't know what to think, he had no idea that this was something his wife, his Lesley would do. Is this what she meant by unorthodox training techniques? Lesley started to walk, then jog, and then finally settle into the same long pace she had before. With her wrists behind her back, it pushed her chest forward, and John couldn't help but see how hard her nipples were. He also couldn't miss that due to the gag in her mouth, she was drooling, strings of it dripping from her open mouth, coating her chin and mixing with the fresh sweat on her chest.
John couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, seeing his wife, running like she was....a race horse. He felt his erection rising, and as he realized how turned on he was, he wondered what the chain through her crotch was doing to her. As he freed his cock from his pants, he suddenly realized that perhaps she wore a chain when she ran in London, and when she did, she came home and fucked him.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, on she ran, and John couldn't help but marvel at her. He also couldn't help but masturbate, coming just as the treadmill seemed to kick into a higher gear, forcing Lesley into a near sprint for what seemed far longer than he knew she could maintain. Then, with an audible moan on the soundtrack, the machine slowed, and Lesley slowed with it, her chest heaving, her hair hanging lank around her face. The machine stopped, and she staggered off it, and John wondered if that was the end of the recording.
The view changed to one of the mattress by the wall, Lesley, still wearing the harness, but free from the chain and the cuffs came into view, pulling the cover off the thing by the mattress. What it was was instantly clear. She pulled the machine closer to the mattress, then dropped to all fours in front of it. He could see the dildo on the end of an arm, and watched, his erection springing anew, as she impaled herself on it. Then, she twisted a control in her hand, and with wide open eyes, he watched his beloved wife be fucked by a machine.
Even though he hadn't seen his wife for six months, hadn't had sex for at least three more months before that, he knew when she was about to come, and he wanked himself, holding himself back until she tossed her head back and screamed behind the bit. As she came he came, then sank to his knees crying, as she carried on coming, twice more, until she pulled herself off the dildo, slumped down onto the mattress, and shut off the camera.
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Bravo, Sir, a tremendous reveal, paying off our anticipation! Just lovely.
TheLimey
Magistrate
Chapter 4
John slowly stopped sobbing. He pulled his T-Shirt off his body, wiping first the tears from his eyes and then the come from his cock. He didn't know what to think. What had his wife got involved in before he met her? What sort of place would train people like that? He had to check things out more. He stood up and crossed to the lockers. A couple were empty, but inside one he found the harness, handcuffs and chain she had worn in the video. He also found more items, leather cuffs that looked like they would fit at ankles and wrists, a series of dildos, and a collection of leather straps that he couldn't make head nor tail of. Finally he crossed to the cloth next to the mattress, pulling it off to reveal the very same machine Lesley had used on herself.
He went up to the TV, looking for something he thought would be attached somewhere. There it was, behind the screen, a terabyte drive. He unhooked it from the flat screen and crossed to the door, opening it, turning off the lights, then locking it behind him.
-*-
John woke late the next morning. He'd hooked up tthe terabyte drive to his laptop, and spent hours looking at the files that were recorded there.
Some of the files were just Lesley working out, sometimes clothed, mostly nude, but others were more like the first he had seen, or even more extreme. In one, she had used the chain through her legs to hold in place two separate dildos, one in her cunt and one in her arse, and then proceeded to use all three machines one after the other, starting on the treadmill, followed by an exhausting session on the stair climber before finishing with 30 minutes of weights. He could see the exhaustion on her sweat slick face by the time she was done. She didn't even go over to the mattress that time, just pulled repeatedly at the chain between her legs until she came, before she slid off the bench onto the ground.
He had them slept fitfully, dreams of Lesley literally running through his head. In the end he gave up for a while, getting out of bed to take a cold bath, before returning to get what little sleep he could.
With a strong cup of coffee in his hand, he sat at the kitchen table, staring at both the open letter from yesterday, and the final letter she had written him. It was almost like he had seen a different woman in the files, a woman who closely resembles his Lesley, but who had a side of her he had never know about, had never suspected.
A side that turned him on.
He reached for the second envelope, and tore it open. Thee was a single sheet of paper inside, with an SD drive taped to it, inside a case. The paper simply said, ,' Watch me...'
He went up stairs to grab his laptop, then pushed the SD card on yo slot in the side. The computer launched a file manager window. One file, a video file, and a sub directory named images.
The video file must have had some code attached with it, as it auto played, blossoming into life on his screen. There she was, lying in the bed that had set up downstairs when the cancer had started to take over her body. When had she recorded this? 7 months ago, maybe 8? Not long before she died.
'John, if you are looking at this, then, unless I completely misjudged you, you're in the cottage. You've also miost likely taken a look in my training shed, and I hope you had a chance to look at some of the recordings. I expect you're shocked, surprised, and have a ton of questions.'
She took a sip of water. 'I told you in my letter that when I was teen, living in Cornwall, I had raw running ability. I wasn't Olympic standard, but I could run. I was also a lazy, troublemaking bitch. I had a friend, and ultimately a lover,who was the same, Marie.'
She smiled. 'Jesus we were wild. We smoked, drank, all underage, and we bunked off school enough that the police had a word with our parents. School suspended us, and would have expelled us if we weren't living in the back of beyond and it was the only school for miles. Finally, the Games Teacher at our school took us both in one day, and sat us down in her office.'
'Miss Haine. She was young for a teacher, maybe early 30's. Of course, the rumour was she was a lesbian, but that seemed to be a rumour about all female gym teachers in all schools. We must have been 16.'
Another sip of water. 'She told us both that we were wasting our talent, wasting our time and wasting our lives. That we were going to end up stuck in dead end jobs, with no prospects and no real future. She also told us that she knew where we coming from, that she herself had been a tearaway when she was our age. She was going to give us the same chance she had been given.'
'She knew of a place that would give us some discipline, that would teach us that running was just a start, that would push us further than we had ever been pushed. The training would be harder than anything we had done before, it would leave us aching and exhausted, but we would be a special elite, part of a sorority. We would train with each other, and against each other, for the whole of the long Summer break, away from our parents. She winked at us then... No parents, and entirely away from the gossips in the area...'
'Marie and I turned to each other. Summer break was coming up soon, only a couple of weeks away. Two months of being with each other. All we had to do was train to run and then we could fuck at night. We both said yes.'
Miss Haine squared it with the school and with our parents. And that Summer, I became a Pony Girl.'
John slowly stopped sobbing. He pulled his T-Shirt off his body, wiping first the tears from his eyes and then the come from his cock. He didn't know what to think. What had his wife got involved in before he met her? What sort of place would train people like that? He had to check things out more. He stood up and crossed to the lockers. A couple were empty, but inside one he found the harness, handcuffs and chain she had worn in the video. He also found more items, leather cuffs that looked like they would fit at ankles and wrists, a series of dildos, and a collection of leather straps that he couldn't make head nor tail of. Finally he crossed to the cloth next to the mattress, pulling it off to reveal the very same machine Lesley had used on herself.
He went up to the TV, looking for something he thought would be attached somewhere. There it was, behind the screen, a terabyte drive. He unhooked it from the flat screen and crossed to the door, opening it, turning off the lights, then locking it behind him.
-*-
John woke late the next morning. He'd hooked up tthe terabyte drive to his laptop, and spent hours looking at the files that were recorded there.
Some of the files were just Lesley working out, sometimes clothed, mostly nude, but others were more like the first he had seen, or even more extreme. In one, she had used the chain through her legs to hold in place two separate dildos, one in her cunt and one in her arse, and then proceeded to use all three machines one after the other, starting on the treadmill, followed by an exhausting session on the stair climber before finishing with 30 minutes of weights. He could see the exhaustion on her sweat slick face by the time she was done. She didn't even go over to the mattress that time, just pulled repeatedly at the chain between her legs until she came, before she slid off the bench onto the ground.
He had them slept fitfully, dreams of Lesley literally running through his head. In the end he gave up for a while, getting out of bed to take a cold bath, before returning to get what little sleep he could.
With a strong cup of coffee in his hand, he sat at the kitchen table, staring at both the open letter from yesterday, and the final letter she had written him. It was almost like he had seen a different woman in the files, a woman who closely resembles his Lesley, but who had a side of her he had never know about, had never suspected.
A side that turned him on.
He reached for the second envelope, and tore it open. Thee was a single sheet of paper inside, with an SD drive taped to it, inside a case. The paper simply said, ,' Watch me...'
He went up stairs to grab his laptop, then pushed the SD card on yo slot in the side. The computer launched a file manager window. One file, a video file, and a sub directory named images.
The video file must have had some code attached with it, as it auto played, blossoming into life on his screen. There she was, lying in the bed that had set up downstairs when the cancer had started to take over her body. When had she recorded this? 7 months ago, maybe 8? Not long before she died.
'John, if you are looking at this, then, unless I completely misjudged you, you're in the cottage. You've also miost likely taken a look in my training shed, and I hope you had a chance to look at some of the recordings. I expect you're shocked, surprised, and have a ton of questions.'
She took a sip of water. 'I told you in my letter that when I was teen, living in Cornwall, I had raw running ability. I wasn't Olympic standard, but I could run. I was also a lazy, troublemaking bitch. I had a friend, and ultimately a lover,who was the same, Marie.'
She smiled. 'Jesus we were wild. We smoked, drank, all underage, and we bunked off school enough that the police had a word with our parents. School suspended us, and would have expelled us if we weren't living in the back of beyond and it was the only school for miles. Finally, the Games Teacher at our school took us both in one day, and sat us down in her office.'
'Miss Haine. She was young for a teacher, maybe early 30's. Of course, the rumour was she was a lesbian, but that seemed to be a rumour about all female gym teachers in all schools. We must have been 16.'
Another sip of water. 'She told us both that we were wasting our talent, wasting our time and wasting our lives. That we were going to end up stuck in dead end jobs, with no prospects and no real future. She also told us that she knew where we coming from, that she herself had been a tearaway when she was our age. She was going to give us the same chance she had been given.'
'She knew of a place that would give us some discipline, that would teach us that running was just a start, that would push us further than we had ever been pushed. The training would be harder than anything we had done before, it would leave us aching and exhausted, but we would be a special elite, part of a sorority. We would train with each other, and against each other, for the whole of the long Summer break, away from our parents. She winked at us then... No parents, and entirely away from the gossips in the area...'
'Marie and I turned to each other. Summer break was coming up soon, only a couple of weeks away. Two months of being with each other. All we had to do was train to run and then we could fuck at night. We both said yes.'
Miss Haine squared it with the school and with our parents. And that Summer, I became a Pony Girl.'
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Poor John was seriously missing out! I’d be so devestated to discover all this after Lesley was gone… he must be so heartbroken now… why keep this a secret from him? Didn’t she love him?
I can’t wait for the next chapter though!
I can’t wait for the next chapter though!
TheLimey
Magistrate
I'm 12 chapters into the writing of this, and honestly, it's certainly leaning into his grief and confusion up to there...
TheLimey
Magistrate
Chapter 5
John hit pause. A what? He thought about what he had seen on the camera footage he had seen. There were a number of recordings where she did wear the bit he had first seen. Was that what she meant? He googled the term, and just got a lot of Sloany types riding ponies. It didn't make sense, so he hit play again.
'I bet you just looked it up on your phone didn't you? And I bet you still don't know what I mean. Bring up another window, my love and find the image Lesley1 in the files on this card. Bring it up.'
She must have had a tablet or a laptop to hand, as she busied herself in the recording at the same time he did. When the image came up, his mouth fell open.
The image was of two young women. They were standing side by side, dressed, if that was the word for it, identically. They wore wide leather belts, pulled tight to cinch in the waist. A strap ran from the belt between the legs, pulled tight into the crotch, and he could imagine that it also nestled deep into the crack between their arse cheeks.
Another strap went straight up between each girl's naked breasts, heading to a wide leather collar. Their arms were not held at their sides, but seemed to have been pulled back somehow. This pushed their small breasts forward, the nipples adorned by what looked like some form of decoration, with a large dangling piece hanging from each one.
Both girl wore a head harness, holding in what John recognized as a bit. In both cases, the harnesses were fitted with blinders, preventing the girls from seeing anything to either side. Each also had an ornate plume on the top. They were beautiful, well muscled, like, like thoroughbreds, thought John. They were gleaming with something, oil, sweat, he wasn't certain.
Lesley spoke again on the recording. 'That's Marie and I in that picture, John. That was taken towards the end of that first Summer. All the images on this SD card are of me, and a lot include Marie as well. Miss Haine was right. We both found something we were missing in the training. So much so, that I continued to go back, to keep on with the training, to carry on being a pony girl. Marie found something as well, something she wasn't expecting.'
Lesley looked tired on the screen. 'Take a look at the files on the SD card, and the recordings of me training. Then, call the number in the read me file, and ask for Marie. I've written her already, she'll be waiting for your call.' She paused. ' I should have shown you all this years ago. Forgive me, my love.'
John hit pause. A what? He thought about what he had seen on the camera footage he had seen. There were a number of recordings where she did wear the bit he had first seen. Was that what she meant? He googled the term, and just got a lot of Sloany types riding ponies. It didn't make sense, so he hit play again.
'I bet you just looked it up on your phone didn't you? And I bet you still don't know what I mean. Bring up another window, my love and find the image Lesley1 in the files on this card. Bring it up.'
She must have had a tablet or a laptop to hand, as she busied herself in the recording at the same time he did. When the image came up, his mouth fell open.
The image was of two young women. They were standing side by side, dressed, if that was the word for it, identically. They wore wide leather belts, pulled tight to cinch in the waist. A strap ran from the belt between the legs, pulled tight into the crotch, and he could imagine that it also nestled deep into the crack between their arse cheeks.
Another strap went straight up between each girl's naked breasts, heading to a wide leather collar. Their arms were not held at their sides, but seemed to have been pulled back somehow. This pushed their small breasts forward, the nipples adorned by what looked like some form of decoration, with a large dangling piece hanging from each one.
Both girl wore a head harness, holding in what John recognized as a bit. In both cases, the harnesses were fitted with blinders, preventing the girls from seeing anything to either side. Each also had an ornate plume on the top. They were beautiful, well muscled, like, like thoroughbreds, thought John. They were gleaming with something, oil, sweat, he wasn't certain.
Lesley spoke again on the recording. 'That's Marie and I in that picture, John. That was taken towards the end of that first Summer. All the images on this SD card are of me, and a lot include Marie as well. Miss Haine was right. We both found something we were missing in the training. So much so, that I continued to go back, to keep on with the training, to carry on being a pony girl. Marie found something as well, something she wasn't expecting.'
Lesley looked tired on the screen. 'Take a look at the files on the SD card, and the recordings of me training. Then, call the number in the read me file, and ask for Marie. I've written her already, she'll be waiting for your call.' She paused. ' I should have shown you all this years ago. Forgive me, my love.'
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Another great chapter
TheLimey
Magistrate
Chapter 6
John took a sip at his beer, and glanced at the few people in the pub. None of them looked like they could be Marie, who had suggested they met at this spot.
When he had rung the number Lesley had left for him, he had been told that Marie was not available, but a message would be passed on. 20 minutes later he got a call back. Marie was still not available, but suggested meeting at this pub, in two days time, hence where he was now, waiting for her.
He'd spent some time looking at the images on the SD drive. Pictures of his wife in various forms of harness, with leather hoods covering the upper part of her face, or head harness arrangements that held bits in place. He saw how her arms were held back, wrists cuffed to elbow, or put into a leather sleeve, that looked like it was forcing her elbows together. These formed a series, and he could see Lesley blossom from the teenager to the woman he married. Marie was there as well, in a number of the shots, but after a while the pictures were only of Lesley.
There were a series of images called punishment and a number. Lesley naked and in chains, hair straggly and her skin dirty, doing menial tasks like sweeping out stables, or scrubbing at floors. He kept being drawn back to one image. A view from behind, Lesley's arms held above her head by chains that as ended out of the frame. Sweat was dripping from her, and her back from shoulders to knees bore the marks of what could only have been a protracted and heavy whipping.
He was nearly done with the beer when a tall raven haired woman came in, dressed simply in a white blouse and jeans. Even with 14 years since the last image he had seen of her, this could only be Marie, he thought.
He must have stuck out as a non regular, as the woman made a beeline for him.
He stood as she came closer. "Marie, I presume?'
She stuck out a hand to shake his. 'You must be John'
She looked around, and made a quick decision. 'I think we should go somewhere a little more private.' She nodded at the girl behind the bar, who came over.
'Sally, can you unlock the upstairs room for me? I need to have a quiet conversation away from eavesdroppers'
Sally nodded 'I can do that, Mistress. I''ll bring you your usual, and another pint for the gentleman.'
The upstairs room looked like it hadn't been used for a little while, but it was well appointed, and above all, quiet. Once Sally had given them their drinks, and left them, Marie shot the bolt to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed, then gestured to a pair of high backed arm chairs by the window.
They sat, then Marie spoke first. 'I know you have a lot of questions, John, but first of all, I need you to know I'm so very sorry for your loss.' She paused a moment, then carried on. 'Lesley was a dear friend, and for a while, before she met you, a lover as well. Did she have much pain, before the end?
John nodded. 'She wouldn't admit it, but I knew. The on demand pain killer started to last a shorter and shorter time before it needed to be changed, and she was able to stay awake less and less.'
He thought back to the last night, he stayed up with her, until she breathed her last. Only in death did her face relax again, only then did she look like she used to, even with the terribly thin face.
'She wrote me a letter a while back. She told you that you would be coming out here, and that I should answer all your questions.' Marie looked out of the window, then back at John. 'I'd normally run a mile from having to answer questions from someone who wasn't going to be part of the training, but I loved Lesley much. I couldn't deny her this.'
John took a big gulp of his beer. 'Well, you can start out by telling me exactly what the fuck this training is!' All the confusion and mixed emotions of the last few days were rising to the surface.
'I thought I knew my wife! She told me she came out here to clear her mind. I thought she was doing some odd meditation practice, but instead, I find out she's some odd fetishist, chaining herself up to train herself to exhaustion, punished even. What the hell is your role in this!' He was close to shouting by the end.
Marie looked over at him. 'When she came back from her trips here, how was she? Did it look like she had been coerced into coming here, or did she come back relaxed, with her energy renewed for the next few months?'
John was about to say something off the cuff, but he mentally changed gears. She was right. Lesley always seemed more... focussed... after one of her trips out her.
Marie noted the look on his face. 'If what she did out here did her good, then what difference does it make that what she got up to was what some people would consider deviant?'
'It makes a difference to me, damn it!' John took a deep breath, getting angry wouldn't help anything. 'I thought I knew my wife, I thought we had a great marriage, but now, on top of all of my grief, I don't know if I knew the real Lesley at all.'
Marie shook her head. 'John, the Lesley you knew, the Lesley you loved, came out of the training she had, out of the training we both had.' She leaned forward, emphasizing what she was saying. 'Without the training she had here, you wouldn't have known her.'
John laughed. 'Are you telling me that if she hadn't been whipped, she wouldn't have made it to University, to London, to that first date with me?'
'That's exactly what I'm saying!' There was a real snap in her voice now. 'Our Gym teacher back when we were still at secondary school was right. We both needed discipline in our lives back then, otherwise we were going to piss our lives away and never make anything of ourselves'
She took a deep breath. 'The training unlocked something in both of us. In Lesley, it unlocked a discipline, a drive, that took her out of here, took her to the big city, to a good career, and to a marriage that she was truly happy in.'
'What did it do for you? You never left here, did you?'
Marie looked him in the eyes. 'It taught me discipline. It also taught me how to apply that discipline, to bring the best out of others, to help them find a place where they can be themselves.'
Realization dawned on John. 'You took over the training, didn't you? That's why Lesley's collection of images don't show you after a certain point. You now run the training facility.'
'Yes, along with a friend who has also risen through the ranks, and trainers who help us both.'
John thought about Sally, the way she called Marie 'Mistress'. 'How many women have gone through this training?
'In the last few years, 20 or so. COVID was a problem, and slowed us down. Most ponies come back once a year for a visit, though some, like Lesley, come back more often.'
John thought a moment. 'What about the punishments? Is that part of the training?'
Marie nodded. 'Usually, a new pony needs to be taught her place, punishment is usually applied at that stage.' She paused. 'Lesley, along with a limited number of others, insisted that one of her visits each year be what she called a 'hard' visit, when being punished was the focus of the visit, rather than the training.'
She could see that John was still having a hard time processing everything.
She stood up. 'John, if it had been up to me, Lesley would have told you everything you are now asking years ago. I told her that she should, and I don't know why she didn't. I'm going to offer you the same thing I told her to offer you. I want you to be my guest at the facility. Stay for a few days, a week, and see how the training happens, what it involves. Perhaps, ' she mused, ' that way, you'll get a better understanding.'
John took a sip at his beer, and glanced at the few people in the pub. None of them looked like they could be Marie, who had suggested they met at this spot.
When he had rung the number Lesley had left for him, he had been told that Marie was not available, but a message would be passed on. 20 minutes later he got a call back. Marie was still not available, but suggested meeting at this pub, in two days time, hence where he was now, waiting for her.
He'd spent some time looking at the images on the SD drive. Pictures of his wife in various forms of harness, with leather hoods covering the upper part of her face, or head harness arrangements that held bits in place. He saw how her arms were held back, wrists cuffed to elbow, or put into a leather sleeve, that looked like it was forcing her elbows together. These formed a series, and he could see Lesley blossom from the teenager to the woman he married. Marie was there as well, in a number of the shots, but after a while the pictures were only of Lesley.
There were a series of images called punishment and a number. Lesley naked and in chains, hair straggly and her skin dirty, doing menial tasks like sweeping out stables, or scrubbing at floors. He kept being drawn back to one image. A view from behind, Lesley's arms held above her head by chains that as ended out of the frame. Sweat was dripping from her, and her back from shoulders to knees bore the marks of what could only have been a protracted and heavy whipping.
He was nearly done with the beer when a tall raven haired woman came in, dressed simply in a white blouse and jeans. Even with 14 years since the last image he had seen of her, this could only be Marie, he thought.
He must have stuck out as a non regular, as the woman made a beeline for him.
He stood as she came closer. "Marie, I presume?'
She stuck out a hand to shake his. 'You must be John'
She looked around, and made a quick decision. 'I think we should go somewhere a little more private.' She nodded at the girl behind the bar, who came over.
'Sally, can you unlock the upstairs room for me? I need to have a quiet conversation away from eavesdroppers'
Sally nodded 'I can do that, Mistress. I''ll bring you your usual, and another pint for the gentleman.'
The upstairs room looked like it hadn't been used for a little while, but it was well appointed, and above all, quiet. Once Sally had given them their drinks, and left them, Marie shot the bolt to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed, then gestured to a pair of high backed arm chairs by the window.
They sat, then Marie spoke first. 'I know you have a lot of questions, John, but first of all, I need you to know I'm so very sorry for your loss.' She paused a moment, then carried on. 'Lesley was a dear friend, and for a while, before she met you, a lover as well. Did she have much pain, before the end?
John nodded. 'She wouldn't admit it, but I knew. The on demand pain killer started to last a shorter and shorter time before it needed to be changed, and she was able to stay awake less and less.'
He thought back to the last night, he stayed up with her, until she breathed her last. Only in death did her face relax again, only then did she look like she used to, even with the terribly thin face.
'She wrote me a letter a while back. She told you that you would be coming out here, and that I should answer all your questions.' Marie looked out of the window, then back at John. 'I'd normally run a mile from having to answer questions from someone who wasn't going to be part of the training, but I loved Lesley much. I couldn't deny her this.'
John took a big gulp of his beer. 'Well, you can start out by telling me exactly what the fuck this training is!' All the confusion and mixed emotions of the last few days were rising to the surface.
'I thought I knew my wife! She told me she came out here to clear her mind. I thought she was doing some odd meditation practice, but instead, I find out she's some odd fetishist, chaining herself up to train herself to exhaustion, punished even. What the hell is your role in this!' He was close to shouting by the end.
Marie looked over at him. 'When she came back from her trips here, how was she? Did it look like she had been coerced into coming here, or did she come back relaxed, with her energy renewed for the next few months?'
John was about to say something off the cuff, but he mentally changed gears. She was right. Lesley always seemed more... focussed... after one of her trips out her.
Marie noted the look on his face. 'If what she did out here did her good, then what difference does it make that what she got up to was what some people would consider deviant?'
'It makes a difference to me, damn it!' John took a deep breath, getting angry wouldn't help anything. 'I thought I knew my wife, I thought we had a great marriage, but now, on top of all of my grief, I don't know if I knew the real Lesley at all.'
Marie shook her head. 'John, the Lesley you knew, the Lesley you loved, came out of the training she had, out of the training we both had.' She leaned forward, emphasizing what she was saying. 'Without the training she had here, you wouldn't have known her.'
John laughed. 'Are you telling me that if she hadn't been whipped, she wouldn't have made it to University, to London, to that first date with me?'
'That's exactly what I'm saying!' There was a real snap in her voice now. 'Our Gym teacher back when we were still at secondary school was right. We both needed discipline in our lives back then, otherwise we were going to piss our lives away and never make anything of ourselves'
She took a deep breath. 'The training unlocked something in both of us. In Lesley, it unlocked a discipline, a drive, that took her out of here, took her to the big city, to a good career, and to a marriage that she was truly happy in.'
'What did it do for you? You never left here, did you?'
Marie looked him in the eyes. 'It taught me discipline. It also taught me how to apply that discipline, to bring the best out of others, to help them find a place where they can be themselves.'
Realization dawned on John. 'You took over the training, didn't you? That's why Lesley's collection of images don't show you after a certain point. You now run the training facility.'
'Yes, along with a friend who has also risen through the ranks, and trainers who help us both.'
John thought about Sally, the way she called Marie 'Mistress'. 'How many women have gone through this training?
'In the last few years, 20 or so. COVID was a problem, and slowed us down. Most ponies come back once a year for a visit, though some, like Lesley, come back more often.'
John thought a moment. 'What about the punishments? Is that part of the training?'
Marie nodded. 'Usually, a new pony needs to be taught her place, punishment is usually applied at that stage.' She paused. 'Lesley, along with a limited number of others, insisted that one of her visits each year be what she called a 'hard' visit, when being punished was the focus of the visit, rather than the training.'
She could see that John was still having a hard time processing everything.
She stood up. 'John, if it had been up to me, Lesley would have told you everything you are now asking years ago. I told her that she should, and I don't know why she didn't. I'm going to offer you the same thing I told her to offer you. I want you to be my guest at the facility. Stay for a few days, a week, and see how the training happens, what it involves. Perhaps, ' she mused, ' that way, you'll get a better understanding.'
