Amy was furious. How could she have done that? It was so humiliating, kneeling before him, chained and collared, serving him with her mouth. How dare she? And then he’d left, with no thought for her own need. He’d removed the remainder of her bonds and just left. Left her unsatisfied, her curiosity unsatisfied, her aching need unsatisfied. How could he? How dare he?
Amy lay in her bed, her hands clasped tightly behind her, pretending she was still locked in the handcuffs. She was being punished. She was punishing herself by denying herself the release she ached for. Time passed and her need grew, rather than diminished. Finally, she reached between her legs and granted herself that which she had withheld.
Amy lay in her bed, gasping and sobbing. She wept at her own weakness, that she had been unable deny herself, that she had yielded to feelings so shameful, but also she wept for what she had missed. It had been a very long time since she had experienced anything so intense. What was happening to her? What had Malcolm done to her? What had she done to herself? Again she lay with her hands clasped behind her, pretending to be punished. Again her need came upon her.
Malcolm shared none of Amy’s ambivalence. Short of actually locating Claire, the evening had been entirely satisfactory. He at least had some leads to pursue, whereas he had previously had nothing, and although he had not quite had the full enjoyment of Amy, he had enjoyed her very much indeed. Next time--yes, he was quite confident there would be a next time--perhaps he would forego the hobble chain and teach her to prance with the other ponies. Unlike Amy, Malcolm slept quite soundly that night.
Amy was a most unhappy woman when she awoke Saturday morning. She had functioned as a pass for Malcolm to gain entry to the Bit and Bridle and had received nothing in return. What she had witnessed there made Claire’s disappearance seem all the more ominous, but Malcolm had told her nothing. She had been under his complete control every second, and he had seen to it that she received no useful information. Not only that, but she had reacted to her evening as a pony girl in ways that made her cringe to even think about. She was certain Malcolm knew more than he was telling her, and once again began to wonder if Malcolm was responsible for Claire’s disappearance.
Amy groaned as she thought of her car. Malcolm had picked her up at work but brought her home, so it was still at work. She was mentally enumerating people she could call on to give her a ride downtown on Saturday morning when she glanced out the window and saw her car in the driveway. Malcolm had apparently returned it in the night. She wondered how he had done it by himself. She somehow couldn’t see him getting someone to help him shuffle cars and having to explain why he was doing it.
Malcolm spent the morning doing chores, then in the late afternoon, returned the equipment to Gerald. While there, he made contact with Mr. Knowles.
On Sunday, Malcolm gave Amy a call.
“Why, Malcolm, what a surprise. How nice to hear from you. And what is it you need from me this time? Am I to dance naked in public for you? Perhaps you need someone you can burn at the stake. Maybe you know an Arab sheik who would like to buy me. Perhaps you need someone on whom to perform bizarre medical experiments...”
“Tell me the truth, Amy. I’m not the first person to keep you gagged, am I?”
“Whatever can you mean? Just because I have the temerity to object to being tied up, stripped, and led around like your pet skunk, you seem to think...”
“Amy,” Malcolm interrupted, “I’m having lunch with Cindy tomorrow. Would you like to go?”
“Be at the Fried Lagoon at one o’clock.”
“I think you mean the Fried Legume.”
“Whatever. The one at Twelfth and Central. Let me do the talking.” Malcolm hung up.
Let him do the talking, indeed, Amy thought. She intended for him to do considerable talking before he got out of her sight again.
Amy saw Malcolm’s car in the lot as she arrived. She parked her own car and hurried in. She didn’t want to miss any of this conversation, since she had no confidence that Malcolm would fill her in on what had transpired before her arrival.
Once inside, Amy saw that Malcolm was sitting alone. She went to Malcolm’s table and was barely seated when Cindy entered. Malcolm got up and escorted Cindy to the table, introducing her to Amy.
“I remember seeing you at the club,” Cindy said to Amy. “It was your first time, wasn’t it? So how do you like being a pony girl?”
Malcolm rolled his eyes as Amy replied.
“It’s just the most wonderful thing. I can’t believe I waited so long to let someone tie me up, put something in my mouth that would strangle me every time he tugged on it, then lead me around on a leash to show my nipples to anyone who cared to stare at them. If only I had known. And what about you? You must have had the most fun of all. I guess you just haven’t lived until you’ve been tortured in public.”
“Is she for real?” Cindy asked Malcolm.
“I think she just made the same comment about you. She’s just not as concise as you are,” Malcolm replied.
“Now, ladies, I think we should deal with the subject at hand before the conversation degenerates any further,” Malcolm continued. “Amy, show Cindy the card.”
Amy took the card out of her purse and pushed it across the table toward Cindy. “I found this in my sister Claire’s apartment. Is it from you?”
Cindy examined the card. “Yes, I sent it to her. We met one day at the libary. I don’t remember how the subject came up, but I ended up telling her about the club. I mailed her the card. She said she knew someone who might bring her.”
“You mean Claire wanted to go there? Did you tell her what it was like? What they’d do to her?”
“Of course I told her. She found the idea of being a pony rather thrilling.”
“Thrilling? That’s not thrilling, it’s criminal. I can’t believe all those women being victimized like that and no one’s trying to stop it.”
“Amy,” Malcolm said, “those women aren’t victims. They’re volunteers.”
Amy just stared, looking first at Malcolm, then at Cindy.
“Tell her, Cindy,” Malcolm said.
“You mean you really don’t get it?”
“I guess I don’t,” Amy said.
“Malcolm’s right. We’re pony girls because we want to be.”
“But why would anyone want that?”
“I’m not sure I can explain, but I’ll try. It turns me on to be controlled, to be owned, to be constrained. When my owner puts the bit in my mouth, I know I’m completely his.”
“But he whipped you. Did you like that?”
“No. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but it’s part of the package. If I can’t be punished, then I’m not truly owned. Being punished doesn’t turn me on, but submitting to punishment does. That may sound like a fine distinction, but I don’t know how else to put it.”
“Weird. So where’s your owner now?”
“At work, I suppose. Being a pony girl is only a weekend thing for me. It’s like bondage with glitz. Greg, my owner, picks me up on Friday night and I spend the weekend in harness. It’s paradoxical how liberated I feel as I’m being strapped into it. Then on Monday it’s back to the grind.”
“I guess I still don’t get it.”
“Then why were you there?”
“Looking for Claire. The card from you was the only clue we had. I tried to come alone, but they wouldn’t let me. That’s why you were punished.”
“What? No, it isn’t. I was punished because I promised I’d do something for my owner, then forgot.”
“But Gerald said...” Amy told Cindy about her first attempt to enter the club and Gerald’s remark that he would have Cindy reprimanded.
“Oh, that’s just Gerald,” said Cindy. “He was just trying to lay a guilt trip on you.”
“Well, he succeeded. You can’t believe how awful I felt when I saw what they did to you and I thought it was my fault.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I assure you my punishment had nothing to do with you.”
“So next time that happens, I should just sit back and enjoy the spectacle.”
“That’s what everyone else does.”
After Cindy’s departure, Amy ordered more coffee. She was sitting in the booth to the outside of Malcolm and had no intention of moving until she got some answers.
“Well, there’s one lead up in smoke,” Malcolm said.
“So what others are there?
“I want to know more about that Sebastian character. There was something odd about him.”
“Like what?” To Amy, everyone at the Bit and Bridle was odd and she was unable to distinguish that Sebastian had been more odd than the others.
“Like the way he kept looking at you. Didn’t you notice?”
“Yeah, I noticed he kept looking at me, but with my tits hanging out, I wasn’t all that surprised by being stared at.”
“There was more to it than that. Did you notice how he kept cutting the price? He wasn’t after new business, he was after you. Have you ever seen him before?”
“No. I’d have remembered that guy.”
“Maybe he’s seen you before.”
“I hope not. He’s scary. I don’t want to end up like Ingrid.”
“That was the other odd thing.”
“Ingrid. I told you all the pony girls were there because they liked being pony girls, but I’m not so sure about Ingrid. I don’t think she really wanted to be there. You remember when he told her she failed the test?”
“Yes, she was terrified. It sent chills up my spine.”
“Exactly. I don’t think she was consulted when the decision was made that she would become a pony girl.”
“But what has that got to do with Claire?” Amy wanted to know.
“I don’t know. The only link is his interest in you. You look a lot like your sister.”
“That seems a bit thin.”
“Got any better ideas? What did the police say?” Malcolm asked.
“They said they’re looking, but I don’t think they’re looking very hard.”
“They don’t look very hard for missing women unless the woman in question was fucking a congressman.”
“So what about the other guy?”
“What other guy?”
“The one you went to see when you left me tethered at the wall.”
“Oh, that didn’t have anything to do with Claire. I was inquiring about a former client who has since become a pony girl.”
“What about her?”
“Just casual curiosity. It was really none of your business, which is why I didn’t include you.”
“So now what?”
“So now it’s back to the Bit and Bridle. We need to do some further checking on our friend Sebastian.”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting me to go back there.”
“It’s okay. I can get someone else.”
Amy declined further comment. She didn’t want to be harnessed like that again, but neither did she want to miss out on whatever Malcolm might learn.
“In the meantime,” Malcolm continued, “let’s go back by Claire’s apartment and see if she has any new mail of interest.”
Not having any better ideas for finding Claire, Amy agreed to meet Malcolm there.
They put Claire’s mail on the kitchen table and sorted through it. There were a few bills, some junk mail, but nothing of real interest. Claire’s rent was due and would have to be paid soon. Malcolm told Amy he would pay it if Claire didn’t turn up by the due date.
While Malcolm checked the answering machine, Amy went to the bedroom and started going through Claire’s things again. In Claire’s underwear drawer, she found a pair of handcuffs with two keys. She was surprised that she had missed them the last time, but she hadn’t gone through Claire’s underwear all that thoroughly. Amy slipped the handcuffs into her purse and said nothing to Malcolm about them.
As they left to go their separate ways, Malcolm gave Amy a card.
“Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything.”
One of the things that had annoyed her about Malcolm was the fact that she couldn’t contact him and had to wait for him to call her. The card would put a stop to that, but why had he given it to her? Had she passed some sort of test of her own?
On his way back to work, Malcolm checked his mail, which included a contract from Suzanne. Suzanne was probably Malcolm’s most complicated customer. What turned her on was being ordered around. She wasn’t excited by bondage or the things that Malcolm’s other customers liked. She just wanted to be told what to do--preferably in minute detail.
Malcolm acquired most of his customers through working various places as a temp, but Suzanne had been different. He had found her in a bar. He’d gone out for a drink after work with some of his coworkers at one of his assignments and had noticed Suzanne at the bar. She had been sitting alone, fending off advances from the various men who hung around in bars and made advances upon unaccompanied women who hung around in bars. Malcolm’s companions had likewise noticed her and one of them decided to try his luck. He approached, offered to buy her a drink, and returned in short order.
“What a snooty bitch,” Randy commented on his return.
Malcolm watched her deflect yet another guy and thought he recognized a stereotype. His observation was that everyone was being entirely too nice to her. In one of his more inspired moments, he went over, laid his card in front of her, and said, “Call me tomorrow night at 8:30 sharp.” He turned on his heel, walked away and sat down at his table with his back to Suzanne.
“What did you say to her? She’s staring at the back of your head so hard your hair might catch fire.”
“I told her to call me.”
“That’s all? You just asked her to call you?”
“No, I told her to call me. Important distinction. Is she still staring?”
“Time to go,” Malcolm said and he did, leaving not only Suzanne, but his companions, staring at his departing backside.
Malcolm was only mildly surprised when Suzanne called as instructed. The conversation led to a contract. Like many of Malcolm’s customers, Suzanne found it difficult to tell him what she wanted. Not only was she embarrassed to admit what she wanted, but asking for it seemed to spoil it for her. She wanted men to tell her what to do and it sort of defeated the purpose if she had to tell them what to tell her. As a result, his first contract from Suzanne was a near disaster.
Malcolm, still a little fuzzy on what moved Suzanne, abducted her in his usual manner and took her to his hideaway where she was subjected to a generic bondage routine. It didn’t take Malcolm long to realize that Suzanne was totally turned off by the proceedings so far, but had no idea what to do to recover the situation. He stopped things midstream and asked Suzanne what the problem was. This was exactly the wrong thing to do and Suzanne responded by being a total bitch. Malcolm proceeded to make things worse by offering to take her home and refund her money. He was trying to figure out how to handle her when he realized he was acting just like the guys in the bar.
While he was coming to this conclusion Suzanne proceeded to berate him as a fool and a buffoon. “So you think that’s good enough? You just give the money back and run away, then you...”
“Suzanne, shut up,” Malcolm said in his most commanding voice, and she did. “Now, stand up. Straight, don’t slouch. Feet together, head up. Good. Now, don’t move from that spot until I return.”
Malcolm left the room intending to take a few minutes to consider what to do next. He felt he was on the right track, but still didn’t totally get it. He sat and pondered his dilemma to no great effect. He finally decided to just wing it. Suzanne was standing exactly where Malcolm had left her. She had her skirt up and her fingers in her crotch frigging away furiously. Malcolm now felt like he was on familiar ground.
“Suzanne, stop that.” She immediately ceased her activities. “I can see we’re going to have to be punished.”
“Why?” She seemed truly bewildered.
“You weren’t given permission to do that. You were told not to move.”
“I was told not to move from this spot. I didn’t. I’ve done everything you said. I’m standing straight, feet together, head up, and I haven’t moved from the spot. You didn’t say anything about my hands.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place for Malcolm. Suzanne had indeed done exactly as he had instructed, and had remembered his instructions better than he had. She would do exactly as she was told, but would also do whatever she pleased that didn’t violate any instructions.
“Get undressed and lie on the floor.”
“In what order?”
“In the order I told you. Take your clothes off, then lie on the floor.”
“No, I mean what order do you want me undress in?”
Malcolm proceeded to micro-manage Suzanne’s disrobing. She happily complied with his every command and he began to realize that she liked being controlled at this level.
It took two more contracts for Malcolm to really get a handle on Suzanne. She was happy as long as she was being ordered about. She still didn’t like being tied up, but would submit if ordered to. Doing it didn’t turn her on, however. She would happily submit to any form of sex as long as she was ordered to do it, once again preferably in detail. She did expect to be punished if she failed to obey an instruction and since it turned him on to punish her, Malcolm tried giving her extremely complicated instructions hoping to trip her up, but it didn’t work. Her memory was much better than his and she seemed to cherish each detail of each order.
Taking all this into account, Malcolm began thinking about Suzanne’s next adventure. He began all of his other clients’ adventures with an abduction or something similar, but Suzanne simply received a sheet of instructions.
When he got home that evening, Malcolm began writing out the instructions for Suzanne. He read over the instructions he had written then put them in an envelope which he then placed inside another envelope with instructions not to open the inner envelope until he called and told her to do so. In the meantime, she was not to touch herself in any way that would cause pleasure, nor was she permitted to have an orgasm. The last instruction was a result of Malcolm’s having learned that after receiving the instructions for her last encounter, she had read them over and over while fingering herself.
There was a loophole in the instructions that Malcolm was pretty sure Suzanne would spot. He hoped it would distract her from the little trap he had also placed there for her. It had become a sort of game between them that he would try to trip her up, but he was seldom successful. When she did make a mistake, he would punish her. She hated that, but if he didn’t do it, she felt like she’d gotten away with something and turned into the total snooty bitch she had been at the bar. Even though she really hated it, she would submit to punishment if she screwed up. To Suzanne, fair was fair. It all seemed pretty weird to Malcolm, but Suzanne was the customer, so in spite of the fact that she was surrendering herself to him, she ultimately called the shots. A customer was a customer.
Malcolm had no sooner gotten the envelope addressed and stamped than the phone rang. It was Amy.
“Malcolm, could you come over and help me? I have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Just come over. Please.”
“Just come in when you get here. The door’s unlocked.”
Upon arrival, Malcolm let himself in the front door. Amy was sitting on the couch in the living room. She was naked from the waist up. She wore a pair of jeans which were open in the front and not quite pulled all the way up. Malcolm suspected she hadn’t been wearing them when she’d called. Her wrists were locked behind her in the handcuffs.
“And how did we get like this?” Malcolm inquired.
“I found these handcuffs at Claire’s. I decided to try them out, but I can’t get the keys to work.”
“That’s because they’re the wrong keys. Don’t worry. I brought the right ones.”
“You...these are your handcuffs, aren’t they. You tricked me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Now let me go.”
“You’re confused about which one of us locked those handcuffs on you. All I did was provide you with an educational opportunity. You did the rest.”
“But you still tricked me. You left the wrong keys.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t used them.”
Amy looked sheepishly at Malcolm. “Let me go. Please.”
Malcolm pulled Amy to her feet. He backed her up to the wall, then took her head in his hands, tilting her face up toward his. “And what have we learned?” he asked her.
Amy looked up into Malcolm’s eyes. Her jeans had slid half way down her thighs. “Please,” she whispered.
“Please what, Amy?”
“Not tonight,” Malcolm said quietly. “You have to be a pony girl again. It will be then.”
“I’ll call you.” Malcolm turned to leave, stopping to set a pair of keys on the coffee table.
Amy sank to the floor. Malcolm had done it again--made a fool of her. She made no move to get the keys Malcolm had left. She was being punished. Punished for being such a fool, for falling into Malcolm’s trap, for revealing herself to him, for begging him. Her hands would remain locked behind her in the cuffs.
After a while, Amy worked her jeans the rest of the way off, then went to the coffee table and began fumbling with the keys. She required the use of her hands.
It was a long week for both Amy and Malcolm. Malcolm planned to return to the Bit and Bridle on Friday and the intervening days were just dead time which he spent worrying about Claire and Grace. Malcolm was also concerned that the whole pony club connection was a red herring. However, he had no other leads and no choice but to pursue the matter. There was also the fringe benefit of having Amy as his pony girl for another night.
Amy didn’t look at it quite that way. She was becoming more worried about her sister, but like Malcolm, didn’t have any other ideas. Unlike Malcolm, she was not looking forward to her next pony girl experience. On several occasions, she nearly called Malcolm and told him to find someone else to go with him, but her increasing concern for her sister stopped her on each occasion.
On Thursday morning, Malcolm called Amy at the bank and told her he would pick her up at her house Friday evening. She was instructed to dress the same as last time. Somewhat reluctantly, Amy agreed. That evening, she tried on the handcuffs again, “just to get used to it,” she told herself.
The ride to the club was conducted in silence. Malcolm was anticipating having Amy in harness. Amy was anticipating the same and pouting. Upon arrival, Malcolm got out of the car and headed for the door, leaving Amy to follow along behind.
Amy hurried to catch up to Malcolm and stayed close behind him. As they neared the door, Amy stepped in front of Malcolm and entered first. Malcolm trod on her heels as she stopped short.
“If you’d sent her with me, she’d be behaving herself by now,” said Sebastian. He was just completing the harnessing of his pony girl, who did not happen to be Ingrid. She stood stiffly erect, as had Ingrid, but her eyes darted about nervously.
“You have a point,” replied Malcolm.
“Perhaps you’ll reconsider.”
“Perhaps. See you inside.”
“Come, Trish.” Sebastian gave a tug on Trish’s reins and she pranced away behind him.
“I’m not so sure about this,” Amy said to Malcolm. She had been unnerved by the unexpected encounter with Sebastian and was having second thoughts.
“That’s okay,” Malcolm told her. “I’ll take you home. I can find Claire without you.”
“That’s not what I meant...”
“Yes, it is. What else could you have meant?”
“Okay, okay. Tie me up. I’ll go in there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Just do it before I change my mind.”
Amy didn’t sound all that sure to Malcolm, but it didn’t matter. Once harnessed, there would be no mind changing. Malcolm slipped her coat off her shoulders.
“Off with the sweater.”
Amy reluctantly removed her sweater. It was better that it was removed by herself rather than Malcolm.
Malcolm signaled to Gerald, who began bringing paraphernalia. The gloves were slipped up her arms, and once again Amy’s hands were unusable. Her wrists were pulled behind her, but this time, rather than the handcuffs, Malcolm strapped her wrists together. Where before she had had a couple of inches between her wrists, now she didn’t. Her collar was locked about her throat, then she was required to open her mouth and accept the bit. As the bridle was being buckled into place, the feeling of helplessness returned, even stronger than last time. Malcolm now had complete control of her and this condition would persist until he chose to release her. She understood what Cindy had said about surrendering herself. The difference was that she wasn’t so sure she liked it.
Malcolm buckled the straps on Amy’s upper arms, then pulled her elbows together. This time he left only an inch between them.
Gerald brought Malcolm the plume, which was affixed atop her head, then the crop.
“Will you be requiring a tail this time?” inquired the meddlesome Gerald.
“Yes, I think that would be good,” said Malcolm, accepting a lavender tail.
Amy started to back away, but a light tug on the reins brought her to a halt. It was too late to protest.
Malcolm led Amy to a bar that was about waist high and caused her to bend over it. He looped her reins through a ring on the wall, leaving her trapped in her bent over position. He slid her skirt and panties down her legs, then alternately lifted each foot, and Amy was now naked but for her boots and harness. Malcolm cinched a broad belt around Amy’s waist, then worked the tail through the crotch strap which dangled from the rear of the belt. Amy yelped and squirmed as the plug from which the tail sprouted was worked into her. Once in place, the crotch strap was pulled tight and buckled in front. Amy’s reins were unhitched and she stood somewhat uncertainly upright. She was now outfitted in the same manner as the majority of the ponies she had observed.
“Don’t let that fall out,” Malcolm cautioned her. “If I have to replace it, you may get one like Cindy had.” Amy realized that Malcolm was teasing her. With the crotch strap in place, her tail would remain firmly implanted.
Amy followed as Malcolm led her into the club. They had arrived later than last time and it was already well populated. From the door she had a pretty good view of the interior without turning her head. Her eyes darted about, searching fearfully for Sebastian, but she didn’t see him. She did see Mr. Knowles seated at a table near the center of the room, Cindy kneeling beside him. Malcolm led her in that direction.
Malcolm knelt Amy next to Cindy, then sat down across from Mr. Knowles.
“Hi, Malcolm. I see you’ve got your new pony with you again. Cindy didn’t seem to think she’d be back.”
“You know how it is with women and horses. Being one is even better than having one.”
“I know what you mean,” Greg replied.
“What a load of crap,” Amy wanted to say, but couldn’t.
“I’m curious about something,” Malcolm continued. “What do you know about this Sebastian character?”
“Not a lot. He’s a rather curious case, though.”
“He was always sort of a wannabe. He used to come in on rare occasions with his girl friend. It was obvious that she had no interest in being a pony girl. He’d put her in the absolute minimum harness necessary to get in and she’d slouch around behind him for an hour or two, then they’d leave. Even when she was in harness, you could tell who was in charge in that relationship. He would never really control her. I don’t know what price she extracted from him for her couple of hours as a pony girl, but I’m sure he got the short end of the stick.”
“What happened to the girlfriend?”
“The last time he brought her in was right before he started bringing in all these other women. On that occasion, she was the prototype of her successors. The change was amazing. He put her in full harness, complete with tail and total control bridle. I think it was the first time anyone had actually used one of those. We just keep them around for show, but he actually put it on her.”
“She didn’t object?”
“Not a peep. He held it up so she could see it, taunting her with it. She looked like she wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She opened her mouth on command and accepted it. Then he took her inside and paraded her around for the rest of the evening.”
“He came to me last week and told me he was a trainer. He wanted to take Amy for training.”
“That’s the odd thing. He used to come in here and mope around leading his sulky girl friend. Then suddenly one week she’s a perfectly obedient pony and now he comes in with a different girl every week and acts like he’s some big shot. I must admit these new girls are very obedient, but there’s no joy in them. One would almost believe they didn’t want to be pony girls. I’d find it all extremely odd if I gave a damn.”
“So where does he get his customers? Who are these women he brings in?”
“No one knows. He doesn’t normally solicit business here. Most of us who come here are regulars. We all know each other, but the girls he brings in are all strangers. Each makes her single appearance and isn’t seen again.”
“That reminds me of something. He told the girl he had last week that she failed the test or something like that. I wonder if it’s part of his training routine to bring them here for an evening.”
“That would seem to fit, but for what or for whom he’s training all these women is unknown.”
“I’d like to find out. He told me he had a partner.”
“That might explain it. The results he gets seem out of line with what I knew of him before. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn someone else is in on the deal.”
“So what does he do when he’s here?” Malcolm wanted to know.
“Mostly, he just parades his current pony around. I think he’s looking for acceptance. Nobody ever took him seriously before, and I think for him the slight was not slight, if you see what I mean.”
“So, did it work? Is he accepted now?”
“Not really. Most of us feel that the transformation from wimp to jerk was not an improvement.”
“And what about the girls? You said they weren’t joyful?”
“There’s no playfulness in them, no pride in their prancing, no...I don’t know. I’d bet, though, that none of them look forward to their evenings here. Not the way Cindy or the other girls do.”
“I got that impression myself. Ingrid, his girl last week, did not seem to be enjoying herself. Does he always use the total control bridle?”
“Always, at least every time I’ve seen him since the transformation. Maybe it’s just overreaction on his part. He had to practically beg his old girl friend to take a standard bridle and at that he never put it on tight. It just sort of hung on her. Now every girl gets the total control bridle.”
“Do any of them ever object?”
“No, not that I know of. I don’t know what he does to them, but it’s obviously a lot worse than being put in the total control bridle.”
“Has he ever brought this girl in?” Malcolm asked, showing Greg a picture of Claire.
“I don’t think so. It’s hard to be certain, since I only see them bridled and they don’t look quite the same that way. Why? Who is she?”
“She’s a friend. She seems to be missing.”
“Cindy told me you were looking for someone. You really think Sebastian is involved? That worries me.”
“Why? I thought you said you didn’t give a damn.”
“About Sebastian, I don’t, but what you’re suggesting has criminal implications. We don’t do anything illegal here, but police scrutiny would still be embarrassing for many of us. We value our privacy.”
Amy thought a little embarrassment might be good for some of these people, but then it occurred to her that if the police were to arrive right now and start asking questions, maybe taking pictures, she herself would be extremely embarrassed. She wouldn’t want to have to admit to anyone that she had consented to her current condition, and she certainly wouldn’t want her picture taken.
Greg looked past Malcolm and Malcolm turned to see what he was looking at. Sebastian was behind him and about five tables away. Except for Trish, who knelt stiffly beside him, he was alone for the moment.
“Let’s go have a talk with our friend,” Greg suggested.
“Yes, let’s,” Malcolm agreed. Both men rose and Amy and Cindy started to rise as well.
“Stay,” Greg commanded Cindy, who immediately dropped to her knees.
“You, too,” Malcolm told Amy, pulling downwards on her reins and forcing her to her knees. Amy watched in dismay as Malcolm looped her reins around a bar that circled the table on the underside. She would not be going anywhere.
“Hello, Sebastian,” Greg greeted him. “We were just talking about you.”
“Yes. Malcolm here is considering training for Amy and he was asking me about you. I don’t really know all that much, so we decided to come to the horse’s mouth.”
“I see. And what is it you want to know,” Sebastian replied, somewhat defensively.
“Well, for one thing, how do you train your girls? What sort of regimen do you put them through?” Malcolm asked.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t discuss our methods. That’s our trade secret. What you should do is judge by the results. Look at Trish here. She’s perfectly obedient. I think you should be more focused on what we produce instead of how we produce it.”
“That’s a fair point,” said Greg. “So what about Trish, here? Where did she come from?”
“We don’t discuss our clients, either. Who she is and how she came to be here is none of your business. If you sent someone to me for training, anyone who inquired about her would get the same answer you just got.”
“That’s good to know. Your discretion is admirable,” said Greg. “Now about her training, just how well trained is she?”
“See for yourself,” Sebastian said, handing Trish’s reins to Greg. “Take her for a spin.”
“Thanks,” Greg said as he got up and led Trish away.
“So you’re seriously considering having your new pony trained?” Sebastian inquired of Malcolm who had remained seated at the table.
“I’m considering it.”
“I guarantee you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t. I’m just not sure I want to give her up for the time required, not to mention spending all that money.”
“I understand, but I offered you a very good deal last time. That offer stands, but I’ll make you a better one tonight. Send her with me tonight and I’ll do her for only $500. That’s a one time offer, good tonight only.”
“I’m still not sure.”
“But think what you’ll get. Imagine having a woman who will do anything she’s told, no matter what it is. Think how many men would give a lot more than I’m asking from you to have what I’m offering.”
“It sounds intriguing,” Malcolm said, trying to draw Sebastian out. “How many men do?”
“Pay more than what you’re asking from me to get what you’re offering?”
“Enough. We manage to keep busy.”
“I can imagine. So why my pony? It sounds like you can keep busy without cutting your price. Why do you offer me such a good deal?”
“Well, you know, I’m always eager to help a fellow pony club member.”
“So you’re offering me this good deal out of comradeship and general bonhomie.”
“Yeah. You really should take me up on this. After tonight it will cost you another $500.”
“So if I’d taken you up on it last time, it would have cost me another $500, too. Maybe I should wait. I might get an even better deal next time.”
“I promise you this is the best deal you’re going to get. You should take it while you can.”
Greg returned with Trish.
“Well, what do you think?” Sebastian asked Greg.
“I’m impressed. I certainly can’t fault her obedience.”
“You see,” Sebastian said to Malcolm. “Wouldn’t you like for people to say that about your pony?”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks for taking the time to chat.”
“Well, but you should really consider...” Malcolm caught Greg’s eye, inclined his head toward their table, and the two men departed, leaving Sebastian in mid splutter.
“What did you think?” Malcolm asked Greg.
“Malcolm, that woman is terrified.”
“That was my impression of Ingrid, the one he brought last week. So what’s the deal with Trish?”
“She was trying way too hard. I asked her if she was okay with being a pony girl. She stomped once, but I think she was too frightened to give any other answer. So I told her I wanted a blow job, told her I wanted to fuck her, told her I wanted to whip her. It was yes to everything. I think if I’d told her to hurl herself off a cliff, she’d have done it. Her attitude was almost contagious. I was afraid that if I gave Sebastian a negative report on her, she really would have hurled herself off a cliff..”
“You think she needs rescuing?”
“She claims not to. I asked. I’m not sure I believe her.”
“Sebastian would never let you get her alone if he wasn’t sure how she’d answer that question.”
“I know, but I have no intention of intervening unless she asks. You can do what you want.”
“Well, for reasons that don’t have a hell of a lot to do with Trish, I’m going to pursue the matter.”
“I knew that’s where you were headed. My only request is that you try to leave the rest of us out of it.”
“I’ll let you know if there’s going to be any splashover.”
Amy and Cindy were kneeling where they had been left as Malcolm and Greg seated themselves at their table. Cindy showed no reaction, but Amy was obviously furious at being excluded from the conversation with Sebastain. She squawked through her bit and tugged at her reins.
“Sebastian’s lowered his price again,” Malcolm informed Amy. “He says he’ll train you for only $500. Maybe I should let him. Maybe then you’d behave.”
Amy ceased her struggles and shrunk from Malcolm.
“Yes, maybe I should,” Malcolm mused. “He seems to be able to improve your behavior without even being here. Imagine what he could do if he had custody of you for a couple of weeks.” Amy was now shaking her head. “Besides, that would be an easy way to find out what’s going on. When he brought you back, you could tell me all about it.” Amy was shaking her head even more vigorously. “Assuming he brought you back. There is that little wrinkle.” He looked into Amy’s ever widening eyes.
“For now, I think you’ll stay with me. You have other duties yet this evening. Stand.”
End of Part 2