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to hope that continued.
     
     

 
    Chapter Six
     
    Raúl hadn’t said anything while helping her muck Bane’s stall. The ball of anxiety that had been lodged in her chest started to unwind. It left her feeling jittery, restless.
     
    This time Maple knew not to shower after dinner. After eating, she changed her shirt and headed on out. Maple wasn’t sure if she should wait for J.B., but her body was aching and tired. Her eyelids itched, wanting to shut so badly. There were five women who needed clean places to sleep, and Maple was determined not to let it take as long as it had the night before.
     
    The door was already unlocked.
     
    Inside, J.B. was standing close to Leslie, one hand on her shoulder and the other… between her legs.
     
    Maple stopped in her tracks.
     
    Brokenhearted didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Shredded. Ripped. The sight was cruel and violent, and suddenly all Maple felt like was an open wound.
     
    She wanted to cry.
     
    She wanted to run.
     
    She went to work instead.
     
    Maple didn’t feel her hands as they began prepping what she needed to clean Leslie’s open stall. She could hardly see. Big, fat tears were welling quickly and in danger of spilling over.  Moving without thinking, she went to Leslie’s stall and began to clean it out.
     
    The large ceiling bounced back J.B.’s stern commands. Each one slammed into Maple as she worked.
     
    “Lift the knees higher, Leslie.”
     
    “Higher.”
     
    “Goddamnit, higher! You’re a fucking pony, not a princess!”
    Maple’s own dark voice was berating her, too. How could you have thought you had a future with him? Why did you think he cared? How could you be so stupid? You’re too easy for him-- look at these women! You don’t have have the beauty or the refinement they do--
     
    A scream.
     
    Maple rushed out, ignoring her toxic thoughts. Leslie’s body was crumpled on the floor. Standing above her, looking menacing and reeking of disapproval, was J.B. He stared impassively at the pony girl’s limbs as they twitched.
     
    Leslie finally pushed herself to all fours. Her breasts were swaying, ribs straining from large breaths. She sat back on her heels and looked up at her trainer.
     
    “What the hell, J.B?”
     
    Maple saw that he had something in his hand. She wasn’t close enough to see what it was, but she did notice that was connected to a cord which ran down to between Leslie’s legs. His thumb moved and she gasped, bolting up on her knees, hips thrusting in a painful and stilted way. His thumb released.
     
    “Ponies. Don’t. Talk,” J.B. said darkly. His gravel voice was threatening and scary. “I’m in a foul mood tonight, and I will take it out on you if you don’t lift your fucking knees as you walk. Get up.”
     
    Leslie was covered in sweat. Tears streaked down her face. Every muscle was quivering, tense beneath skin that had become too pasty. She shook as she stood, her mouth set in a thin line.
     
    Her eyes darted to Maple.
     
    Maple stood, unable to move. Leslie’s gaze was piercing. Bitter. She didn’t want this witnessed, but it was too late for Maple to stop.
     
    J.B. turned to her. “Maple, so help me God--” His eyes narrowed. “Get over here. Now.”
     
    Maple didn’t have to be told twice. Something was wrong. The mood of the stable had changed. It was choked now, the other ponies all at their doors, unable to peel themselves away from what was happening.
     
    Leslie was still trembling as Maple came closer.
     
    “Do you see this?” J.B. held out his hand. In his palm was a small, dark square with a dial and a button on it. The dial was numbered one to ten, the setting on seven. He pushed the button.
     
    Leslie jerked beside Maple but remained standing. The pony girl fought back a cry, creating a hideous, muffled groan.
     
    J.B. handed the controller to Maple. “This is a training tool. I use it on willful ponies. Today, Leslie has decided to be willful. It was--”