Part 7. Amy's Reward.


	Amy found the car ride to be intensely uncomfortable.  Her arms and
shoulders already ached and leaning back in the seat magnified her discomfort. 
Sitting upright tended to ease the tension, but that drove her tail deeper into
her, which was even worse than the pain in arms.  She wondered if Malcolm knew
how distressing her position was.

	Malcolm was not only aware of Amy's discomfort, he was, in fact, quite
turned on watching her squirm in her seat.  He managed to tear his eyes away
from her in time to avoid rear ending the car in front of him.  He turned down a
side street, seeking a route where it would be less likely that someone would
notice his passenger's blindfold and bridle.

	Amy thought she knew where she was being taken.  Malcolm had blindfolded
her on one previous occasion, when he had transported her to and from the secret
location where he entertained his clients.

	At long last, the car ride ended.  Amy was pretty sure it hadn't really
been as long as it had seemed.  She heard Malcolm get out of the car.  Amy
pressed her feet against the floor, holding her butt off the seat, but forcing
her arms back against it while she waited for Malcolm to let her out.

	Amy's door opened.  Malcolm did not unbind her ankles.  Instead, he
picked her up and carried her up a flight of stairs, then set her down.  He
unhooked her elbows and some of the strain on her shoulders was relieved.

	Malcolm untied Amy's ankles then removed her blindfold.  Amy looked
about.  She was in a smallish room, wood paneled with a high ceiling.  The walls
on either side were lined with cabinets, the doors to which were closed.  The
principal feature of the room was what appeared to be a log somewhat less than a
yard in diameter.  The surface was smoothed and varnished and it rested on a low
A-frame trestle.

	Malcolm tugged on Amy's reins and positioned her at the end of the log,
facing along its length.  He unbuckled and removed her belt and crotch strap,
but left the tail in place.

	"Amy, when I release your wrists, I want you to bend over and wrap your
arms around the log."

	Amy shook her head and tried to back away, then screeched as Malcolm's
crop delivered a stinging blow across her backside.

	"Did I say maybe?"

	Amy stomped twice.  Between her bridle and the crop, Malcolm would have
his way.  Better to capitulate than to be beaten into a submission which was
inevitable anyway.

	"Are we going to be an obedient pony?"

	Amy stomped once.  Malcolm unbuckled the strap confining her wrists and
Amy reluctantly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the log.  Malcolm
joined Amy's wrists with a short length of chain, threading it through a ring on
the underside of the log, thus preventing her from sliding her arms forward or
back along its length.  He pulled one of her ankles to the side and secured it
to the leg of the trestle, then did the same to the other ankle.  Amy was now
bent over hugging the log with her ankles bound about three feet apart.  Malcolm
unbuckled and removed her bridle.

	"What are you going to do to me?"  Amy asked as soon as her jaws had
sufficiently recovered from their captivity to allow her to speak.

	"I'm going to give you what you asked for last time.  I told you it
would be tonight."

	"I've changed my mind."

	"I'll give you a little time.  Perhaps you'll change your mind again."

	"Oh, yes, of course I will.  And even if I don't, how convenient for you
that I'm tied down.  I'm sure the utter romance of it all, being bent over and
naked and everything, would turn any girl's head.  Why didn't someone think of
this before?  Maybe you could get a patent, or has someone already patented
rape?"

	"Open wide, Amy," Malcolm demanded, holding the bridle in front of her
face.

	"No, Malcolm.  Please don't.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to make you
angry, but you've got to understand..."

	"And what is it that I've got to understand?"

	"That was last time.  What I may have wanted then isn't what I want now. 
You can't do this and pretend that you have my consent."

	"Don't worry.  I won't do it without your consent," Malcolm said.

	"So, are you going to let me go?"

	"I didn't say that.  You're going to stay where you are for a while. 
Perhaps you'll change your mind."

	"So you're going to keep me tied up until I give in.  I don't think you
know the difference between consent and coercion."

	"We'll see.  In the meantime, perhaps we might deal with your obedience
problem," Malcolm said, tapping her lightly with his crop.

	"My what?  You're going to beat me?  Malcolm, no.  Ow!  Malcolm...ow. 
Stop it."

	Malcolm noted that Amy was demanding that he desist rather than begging
him to.  He increased the severity of the blows.

	"Malcolm, stop...Please stop, please...I'll be good, I promise...oww."

	Malcolm continued with Amy's punishment until her pleas dissolved into
tears and incoherent shrieking.  When he stopped, Amy was hugging the log with
all her might and gasping for breath.  He gave her a few moments to calm down,
meanwhile running his fingers softly along the interior of her thigh.

	"Have we resolved to be obedient?"

	"Yes," Amy gasped, still not completely composed.

	"Yes, what, Amy?"

	"Yes, I'll be obedient.  Just tell me what you want," Amy replied
resignedly.

	Malcolm drew his hand up between Amy's legs.  She was well lubricated
and obviously aroused.  He ran his fingers over her slit, teasing, not
penetrating.  Amy's breathing quickened.

	"I want you to tell me what you want.  Shall I call a cab and send you
home?"

	"Do what I asked for last time.  Do I have to stay tied down like this?"

	"Yes, you do.  And you didn't exactly ask for anything last time.  All
you said was 'please'."

	"Do me, Malcolm.  Please, do me."

	"Do what to you, Amy?  What do you want me to do to you?  You have to
say it," Malcolm said, thrusting his finger deeper into her, causing her to
gasp.

	"Fuck me, damn it.  Just fuck me."

	"You forgot the 'please'.  A woman in your position doesn't make
demands.  I want you to beg."

	"Don't make me," Amy whined.

	"Beg."

	"Please fuck me, Malcolm.  I need you to do it.  Please fuck me. 
Please."

	"That's better," Malcolm said and plunged into her.

	Once again Amy was hugging the log with all her might and shrieking.

	Amy lay limp as Malcolm released her from her bonds.  He helped her to
her feet and she wrapped her arms around him.

	"Let's go to bed."

	"It's time to take you home."

	"And then what?"

	"And then it's another day."

	Amy sat quietly on a stool as Malcolm bound her wrists and blindfolded
her.  He put his hand in the middle of her back, indicating she should stand. 
Instead, she extended her legs and crossed her ankles.  Malcolm took the hint
and tied her feet, then scooped her into his arms.  Amy liked it when he carried
her.  She lay her head on his shoulder.

	Amy was carried into her house and laid on the bed.  She was still
blindfolded, but she had no doubt where she was.

	"Now what?" she asked as Malcolm removed her blindfold.

	"Now it's time for me to go."

	"Stay with me," Amy whined.  Was she begging again?

	"I have to go."

	"Are you going to untie me?"

	"Somewhat.  Where do you keep the handcuffs."

	"I threw them away."

	"I see," Malcolm said.  He opened the top drawer in the night stand. 
The handcuffs lay inside.  "I guess it must have been the other pair you threw
away."

	"Oh," was all Amy could say.

	"You'll be punished for lying."

	"What are you going to do?"

	"You'll see.  Wait here," Malcolm commanded unnecessarily and left the
room.

	After a short while, Malcolm returned.  He removed Amy's blindfold and
untied her ankles.  When he untied her wrists, she put her arms to the side and
pushed against the bed, attempting to rise.

	"Oh, no you don't," Malcolm said and jerked her hands behind her,
locking the handcuffs on her wrists.  "Okay, here's the deal.  I've hidden the
keys to your handcuffs somewhere in the house.  You'll have to find them in
order to free yourself.  They shouldn't be hard to find, but if you can't, call
me and I'll come over and free you--but there'll be a price."

	"But, what if..."  It was too late.  Malcolm was gone.