Part 3. Cindy.


	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?"

	"Yes."

	"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, she 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 to show my nipples to everyone 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."

	"Weird."

	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."

	"What?"

	"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?