Part 11. Grace.


	Amy was having a miserable night.  The air was chilly and the concrete
on which she lay was no warmer.  She tried to burrow into the straw, but there
was too little of it.  Her limbs ached.  Except for the brief period between the
time when she found the handcuff keys and her abduction, she had been bound for
more than a day.  She shivered uncontrollably, and not just from the cold.

	At long last, exhaustion gained the upper hand and Amy slipped from
awareness.

	Consciousness returned.  A boot thrust against Amy's thigh and rolled
her onto her side.  Amy looked up.  The owner of the boot was the man from last
night.  He untied her ankles.  Amy struggled to her knees and knelt as she had
before.

	"Good.  I'm glad to see you remember yesterday's lesson."  He unfastened
her collar from the wall and tugged.  "On your feet."

	Scrambling to her feet as quickly as her stiff joints would allow, Amy
followed her captor as he strode away.  Once outside her stall, she was able to
look around.  There wasn't much to see.  She was in a hallway lined with stalls
identical to her own.  At each end of the hall was a door.  Both were ajar, but
she was unable to see what lay beyond either.  She was led toward one of the
doors.

	Amy wanted to ask about Claire, but she was afraid.

	Amy's suspicion that she was not the only occupant of this place was
confirmed.  She saw two other women kneeling in their stalls as she had knelt. 
Both were chained by the neck as she had been and had their hands bound behind
them.  Neither of them was Claire.  Neither moved so much as an eyelash.

	As they neared the end of the hall, an odd sort of crinkly sound
followed by desperate screaming issued from the door at the other end of the
hall.

	Amy was led through the door and it was closed behind her, cutting off
the screaming that was still coming from behind the far door.  Looking around,
Amy found herself in a large room, the ceiling of which was supported by a
series of wooden posts, each about a foot square.  She was led to one near the
center of the room and required to stand with her back to it.

	"Please, what are you going to do to me?"

	The blow to the stomach was so sudden that Amy hadn't even seen it
coming.  She doubled over, then crumpled to the ground and retched.

	"Since you ask, we're going to teach you obedience.  Today's lesson will
focus on learning not to speak without permission.  From this point on, hardly
anyone will speak to you except to give you an order.  Henceforth, you are
forbidden to say anything except 'yes, sir', do you understand?"

	"Yes, sir," Amy coughed.

	"That's good, but I don't think you really understand what's required of
you, so I'm going to give you a little demonstration.  Stand up."

	Fearfully, Amy got shakily to her feet.

	"Turn."

	Amy turned her back to the man and he untied her wrists.

	"Grace, get in here."

	A woman entered from the far end of the room and approached.  Amy
recognized her as the woman who had occupied the stall opposite her last night
and been punished whenever she herself was.

	"This is Grace," Amy was informed.  "I'm sure you recognize her from
last night.  She currently plays the role of whipping girl around here.  I bear
her a special enmity and she's so frightened of me that I really find her quite
delightful.  I have no immediate plans to dispose of her, so here she remains,
spending each day in fear of whatever new horror she will suffer at my hands,
and each day I create some new torment to justify her fears."

	"Dispose of her?" Amy wondered.  She looked into Grace's face.  Grace
appeared utterly defeated.  She possessed the deadest looking eyes Amy had ever
seen on a living person.

	"Grace is going to help me demonstrate the level of obedience that you
will be expected to achieve.  Grace will do absolutely anything she is told,
won't you Grace?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"And why is that, Grace?"

	"Because of what you'll do to me if I don't."

	"Exactly.   Light one of these for me, Grace."  Grace was handed a pack
of cigarettes and a lighter.  Clumsily, she held one to her lips, coughing as
she attempted to set it alight.

	"As you can see, Grace isn't a smoker.  For that matter, neither am I. 
Better put it out, Grace," the man said, tapping his forefinger against her bare
nipple.

	Amy looked on aghast as Grace ground the now lit cigarette into her own
nipple.

	"You don't think you could ever do that.  I can see it in your eyes. 
Trust me, when it's time to send you back to Malcolm, you will do anything to
leave here.  But before we send you back, you'll have to pass a test, a final
exam to prove your obedience."

	Grace's head had jerked up at the mention of Malcolm.  Did Grace know
Malcolm, Amy wondered?  What was going on here?  She now had confirmation that
Malcolm had indeed arranged her current captivity and torment, but who was Grace
and what did she have to do with Malcolm?

	"So let's get started," the man continued.  Amy still didn't know his
name.  "First, we need to get Grace secured.  Grace, back up against the post."

	Grace obeyed and the man pulled her arms around behind it and locked
handcuffs on her wrists.

	"She doesn't need to be restrained, I just like her that way.  Now, as
for your little task..."

	The man--Amy decided to call him "Henry the Grape" in the hope that
giving him a comical name might somehow diminish her fear of him--produced a pin
cushion from which he withdrew two hat pins.  He handed them to Amy.  Amy
briefly considered trying to plunge them into Henry's eyes, but decided the
consequences of failure didn't justify the risk.

	"What you are to do is push one these slowly into each of Grace's
nipples.  All the way in."

	Amy looked at Grace, who stared back with both fear and resignation in
her eyes.  Did Grace really think she was someone who would do something like
that?

	"I can't.  I just can't," Amy whimpered.

	"I see.  In that case, you'd better step over here," Henry said, leading
her to an adjacent post.  Amy's arms were pulled behind the post and secured as
Grace's had been.  "Now wait here while I tend to Grace."

	Henry returned to Grace and held a pin to her burnt nipple.  Grace
inhaled sharply and whimpered as Henry slowly pushed the pin into her.  Henry
paused once it was seated, then slowly inserted another pin into her other
nipple.  He then released her wrists and led her over to stand in front of Amy.

	Amy looked at Grace.  Grace stood perfectly still, making no sound. 
Each of her nipples now terminated in the opalescent tear drop head of a pin. 
Amy tried to look into her eyes, but she avoided Amy's gaze.

	Grace had barely cried out when the pins were inserted.  What had been
done to her last night to make her scream so?  Amy hoped never to find out.

	"As you can see," Henry said, "Grace was not spared by your refusal. 
Grace, do you have any advice for Amy?"

	"Do what he says.  Always do what he says, no matter what it is.  Now
he's going to hurt you."

	"Very good, Grace, although not quite accurate.  Actually," he said,
turning to Amy, "Grace is going to hurt you."  He handed the pincushion to
Grace.

	"Grace, I want you to put these pins into Amy's breasts, alternating
until you run out of pins."

	"Yes, sir."

	Amy shrunk against the post to which she was confined.  The pincushion
held a dozen or more large hat pins.  As frightening as the pain was her fear of
disfigurement.

	Grace withdrew a pin from the cushion and stepped in front of Amy.  She
placed the point against Amy's nipple and slowly pushed.  Amy shrieked as the
pin pierced her nipple and Grace ceased her pressure.

	"All the way in, Grace," Henry the Grape commanded.

	"I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry," Grace whimpered as she resumed pushing the
pin into Amy.

	"Grace, did I tell you to speak?"

	"No, sir."

	"Step over here."

	Henry the Grape opened a cabinet and withdrew a small brown bottle and
another item.  The second item appeared to be a wedge shaped piece of rubber,
somewhat wider than it was high, with a strap passing through the wide end. 
Henry the Grape unscrewed the cap of the bottle.  A stalk which terminated in a
daub was attached to the top.  He used it to smear a brown slightly viscous
liquid over the surface of the wedge, dipping back into the bottle several times
until the entire surface was coated except for the face opposite the point.  Amy
noticed he was being careful not to come into contact with the substance.

	"Open up, Grace."  Grace opened her mouth and Henry the Grape pushed the
wedge in, tip first, securing it by locking the strap behind her neck.  Grace's
eyes went wide and her face screwed up.  Her lips drew back, revealing her
teeth. Her hands flew to the back of her neck and she clawed futilely at the
lock.   She shook her head violently, as if attempting to throw off the gag,
then staggered to the nearest post and wrapped her arms around it, where she
remained for several minutes, panting and making odd gurgling noises.

	"Grace, you have a task to complete," Henry the Grape reminded her,
holding out the pincushion which she had dropped.

	Amy watched fearfully as Grace, obviously in considerable distress,
approached unsteadily.  She rested her left hand on Amy's shoulder for support,
raised a quivering right hand, and plunged the pin she held into Amy's breast. 
Amy shrieked, then looked fearfully at Henry the Grape.

	"It's okay, you have permission to scream," Henry the Grape informed
her.  "In fact, I prefer it."  Turning to Grace, he said, "You missed."  The pin
had gone in an inch and a half wide of the nipple.  "I expect you to get at
least one of those in the nipple."

	Grace pushed a second pin into the other breast.  It went in at an
angle, nearly protruding from the other side.  Amy screamed again.  Returning to
the other breast, Grace tried to put a pin into the nipple.  She placed the heel
of her left hand under the breast.  Holding the pin between thumb and forefinger
of that hand, she dragged the point of the pin across Amy's breast until it
rested on the nipple.  She grabbed the head of the pin with her right hand and
pushed, but her hand shook and the point skidded across the breast again and
went in an inch wide of the target.  Amy screamed again.

	"Closer," commented Henry the Grape.

	Grace continued her efforts.  Amy continued her screaming.