Part 12. Brad and Bev.


	Malcolm was awakened by the phone.  He had slept fitfully, worrying
about Amy.  It was Mike on the phone.

	"Malcolm, I got hold of Brad, the guy from work.  We're going over there
this afternoon.  I'll pick you up about 2:00"

	"See you then."  Malcolm hung up, then dialed Amy's number.  He got the
machine again and left another message.

	Amy had not spent a comfortable night either.  After Grace had put the
pins in her, she had been led back to her stall, where she spent what she
assumed was the rest of the day kneeling rigidly as she had come to understand
was required in this place.

	Henry the Grape spent the rest of the day attending to other trainees,
as evidenced by the screaming which echoed through the hall.  After what seemed
like, and probably was, hours, she had been fed and put down for the night. 
This consisted of being hog tied on her stomach.  Her arms and shoulders ached
from pulling against her ankles, trying to keep her weight off her breasts.

	By morning, Amy's body was numb.  Unfortunately, the numbness didn't
extend to her breasts.  Every time she relaxed her arms, her chest pressed into
the floor, disturbing the pins.

	When at last she was released, Henry the Grape required her to stand
immobile while he removed the pins.  The pins had been in place long enough that
they hurt almost as much coming out as going in, but whenever she would cry out
or flinch, the pin would be reinserted and then withdrawn again until she
endured its removal with outward passivity.

	After the removal of the pins, she was fed.  The rest of the morning, if
morning it was, was spent in obedience training.  Henry the Grape would issue
various commands--stand, sit, kneel, fetch, blow me--and if she was slow to obey
or otherwise gave him any cause for complaint she was struck instantly with the
short whip Henry the Grape carried, then forced not just to submit, but to
cooperate, in an even more painful and prolonged punishment.

	Amy understood what was being done to her.  She was being conditioned on
two levels.  A stroke of the whip provided immediate feedback when she erred. 
This would make her obedience almost reflexive.  She would then be very slowly
and deliberately tortured by Henry the Grape, which had a much greater
psychological impact than the immediate feedback of the whip.  By the end of the
day, Amy was absolutely terrified of making even the slightest mistake.

	Mike picked Malcolm up slightly before 2:00.

	"How well do you know this Brad guy?" Malcolm wanted to know as they
drove.

	"Not well.  He works in my department, but he's not really my kind of
guy."

	"How so?"

	"He's not really anybody's kind of guy.  Keeps to himself, doesn't have
any close friends at work.  For that matter, I would have said he wasn't Bev's
kind of guy.  Always at company functions she'd split off from him as soon as
they arrived and start flirting with whoever she could find that would flirt
back.  She's really pretty disgusting."

	"She have any problems getting guys to flirt?"

	"No, not really.  She's pretty cute.  Disgusting, but cute, and she's a
talker.  Can't shut up for a second.  Just the opposite of Brad."

	"I assume Brad knows I'm coming.  What'd you tell him about me?"

	"I told him you were a good friend of mine and had the same problem I
did, that you had a woman who needed to learn some respect."

	"So he didn't have a problem with me being there."

	"No.  He seemed pleased you're coming.  I think he wants to show Bev
off."

	Mike and Malcolm parked in front of Brad's house and walked up to the
door.  Brad opened the door and invited them in before Mike had even rung the
bell.

	After introductions had been made, they followed Brad into the house
where Malcolm caught his first sight of Bev.  She was kneeling in the corner,
maintaining a rigidity that reminded him of Ingrid and Trish.  Her outfit was
reminiscent of a cheerleader, short pleated skirt, tight sweater, white socks
and tennis shoes.

	"Have a seat, guys.  This is my wife, Bev."

	"Say hello to the gentlemen, Bev."

	"Yes, Brad dear.  Hello, gentlemen."

	"Hello, Bev," Malcolm and Mike said in unison.

	"How 'bout a beer?  Bev, honey, go get everyone a beer."

	"Yes, Brad dear."  Bev started to get to her feet.

	"Hands and knees, sweetums," Brad commanded.

	"Yes, Brad dear," Bev said.  Dropping to all fours, she crawled to the
kitchen.  Malcolm got a good view of her butt as it waggled its way behind her
into the kitchen.  He had half expected her to be wearing no panties, but she
obviously was.  Nonetheless, it was an enticing view.  He noticed that Bev also
had Mike's undivided attention.

	"As you can see," Brad said, causing both men to tear their eyes away
from the departing Bev, "she's perfectly obedient."

	"She seems to be," said Malcolm, putting just a hint of skepticism in
his voice, hoping to get a reaction by playing on Brad's insecurities.

	"You'll see when she gets back," said Brad, rising to the bait.  "Those
guys really delivered.  Imagine having a beautiful woman who'll do anything you
tell her to, and no back talk."

	Bev returned from the kitchen with a tray holding three bottles of beer
and three glasses.  She was not able to perform this task on all fours, but she
was on her knees.  Her progress was a bit unsteady and the bottles rocked
precariously on the tray.

	"You know what'll happen if you spill those," Brad scolded.

	"Yes, Brad dear."

	Bev made her way over to Brad, set a glass next to him, and filled it
with beer.

	"Bev, honey, what's wrong with you?  You know a proper hostess serves
her guests first."

	"I'm sorry, Brad dear."  Bev picked up the glass of beer she had poured
for Brad and set it back on the tray.  Bev scooted over to Malcolm and Mike on
her knees and served each a beer, then returned and set the original glass she
had poured next to Brad and set her tray down.

	"Thank you, dear," Brad said.  "Now lets deal with your little faux pas. 
There are always consequences when we don't do things correctly."

	"Yes, Brad dear."

	"Sweater," Brad snapped.

	Bev lifted her sweater up to her neck.  Brad grasped her nipples and
twisted cruelly, causing Bev to gasp, but Malcolm noted that she was careful to
remain rigid and not draw away.

	"As you can see, she's perfectly obedient.  That doesn't mean she won't
make the occasional mistake, but she submits to punishment without a problem. 
You two are the ones who were treated discourteously.  Either one of you want to
punish her?"

	"No, that's quite alright," Malcolm said.

	"Yeah, I do," said Mike.

	"Sweetie, present yourself to Mike."

	"Yes, Brad dear."

	Bev crawled over to Mike and knelt in front of him.

	"Sweater," snapped Mike.

	Bev lifter her sweater again.  Brad twisted her nipples even more
cruelly than had Brad, causing Bev to cry out.

	"You know better than to complain when you're being punished," Brad told
her.  "This is the second time you've embarrassed me in front of our guests. 
You've earned yourself a session."

	Bev paled.  "Yes, Brad dear," she said in a quavering voice.

	Malcolm looked on in surprise.  This was unusual behavior for the
normally gentle Mike.  He seemed to have some sort of grudge against Bev.  There
was apparently some history here that Malcolm was unaware of.

	"Looks like she's not quite there," Malcolm commented, trying to stir
things up a bit more.

	"No, she's totally obedient, but like I said, she can still make
mistakes.  Here, I'll show you."

	"Oh, Sweetie pie," Brad said to Bev.

	"Yes, Brad dear."

	"Be a dear and go over to the hall door and bang your head against the
frame.  Hard.  Raise a good lump."

	"Yes, Brad dear."

	Mike and Malcolm looked on stupefied as Bev walked over to the doorway,
cocked her head back, and cracked it against the doorframe with considerable
force.

	"Again.  Same spot," Brad commanded.

	Bev closed her eyes and slammed her forehead into the doorframe a second
time.

	"Excellent.  Now crawl over to Malcolm and let him feel your lump."

	"That's quite all right," Malcolm said as Bev dropped to all fours and
moved toward him.  "I can see it from here."

	"That's very impressive," Malcolm said to Brad, hoping he hadn't been
indirectly responsible for Bev getting a concussion.  "So where can I get my
woman trained like that?"

	"Leave me your number.  I'll have them get in touch with you."

	Malcolm didn't like this idea.  He wished he'd given Brad a phony name. 
His real name wasn't all that common and if Brad reported that someone named
Malcolm had been to see him, Manfred and Sebastian would have no doubt as to
which Malcolm.

	"So how did you find them?" Malcolm asked, stalling for time while he
tried to think of some other approach.

	"They found me.  One day, I came back to my desk and there was this card
laying there.  It's the one you saw, Mike.  An hour later I got a phone call
asking if I'd gotten the card.  Things went from there."

	"So you never had any way to contact them," Mike said.

	"No, never.  They always called me."

	"Do you work with anybody named Sebastian or Manfred?" Malcolm asked.

	"Sebastian was the guy who contacted me, but I never met him before.  I
have got a customer named Manfred, though."

	"Who is he with?"

	"DSS."

	"Who's that?"

	"They're a small telecommunications company."

	"What's Manfred do there?"

	"Why all the questions?"

	"I just want to know who we're dealing with."

	"I don't really want to get in the middle of anything here.  Just give
me your number and I'll give it to them next time they call me."

	Mike caught Malcolm's eye and nodded toward the door.

	"I want to think this over some more before I commit.  I'll let you
know," Malcolm said.

	Malcolm and Mike made their excuses and departed.

	"Can you believe those two?  Talk about dumb and dumber," Mike laughed.

	"Truly amazing.  'Yes, Brad dear.'," Malcolm said in a squeaky imitation
of Bev's voice.  "I do have some sympathy for Bev, though.  Imagine what they
must have done to her to make her behave like that."

	"Believe me, it's an improvement."

	"You really don't like her, do you?"

	"No, I don't."

	"Care to talk about it?"

	"No, I don't."

	"Well, I don't think there's any doubt we've found our boy.  There can't
be many more Manfreds than there are Malcolms.  And if that isn't enough, he's
working for a telecom company," Malcolm said.

	"Yeah, and he stole your idea of leaving the cards, too."

	Malcolm winced at Mike's further revelation of his knowledge of the
workings of Malcolm's business.  "So what do you know about this DSS company?"

	"Not much, but if they're a customer they'll be in the computer.  I'll
find out who manages their account and have a talk with him tomorrow."

	"Why don't we just look them up in the phone book and drive over there."

	"'Cause I didn't think of that.  Let's try it."

	They had no trouble locating DSS in the phone book.  They drove to the
listed address, but there wasn't much to see.  DSS was in a pre-stressed
concrete building, sandwiched in between two other businesses in the same
building.  There was a short stairway to the door and a loading dock next to it. 
The building appeared deserted.

	"Well, I guess that's all we could expect on a Sunday," Malcolm
commented.

	"I"ll be on it first thing in the morning," Mike said.