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Angela and Vonda Ch. 02

By: carvohi



Angela had enjoyed herself at Vonda's expense all day long. She posed for the hangers on at the gas station. Dipped her derriere at the help at the card store, spread her legs for passers by at the Deli, and just generally did everything she could to make Vonda feel uncomfortable. It wasn't that she particularly disliked Vonda. Vonda was actually a nice person. 

It was that she was her husband's sister, and until now Brandon's main pillar. Angela wanted to remove that pillar. She'd do it using the one tool she knew she had, sex. Now she'd made some silly promises to her husband. The promises were about her clothes. She didn't mean any of it. She only wanted to keep things stirred up. Dinner was nearly ready. She had to kiss up to her mousy sister.

Vonda was sitting in a lazy boy watching the evening news when Angela came in.

Angela simpered over to the chair, and knelt demurely beside her sister. "Vonda, I'm sorry about today. I know I was being a real cow." Cow was a word she hated but knew Vonda used frequently as a term of derision. "I promise to never, ever, place you, or Brandon in a situation where you'll be embarrassed again. You know me. I don't act like that. I just wasn't being myself. It won't happen again, I promise."

Vonda looked at Angela in surprise. She hadn't expected anything like this. Brandon must have really read her the riot act. "Well you did embarrass me, and it did hurt. I felt foolish. I wish you wouldn't act like that anymore, but I do understand that you're new to the area and new to the household. I promise I'll try harder to make you feel more at home."

Angela thought this was the moment to really put her back on her heels. "Vonda, I talked to Brandon, and he and I agreed that from now on you should help me choose what I should wear. I trust your judgment. I see what you wear, and I can certainly wear and feel comfortable in anything you think I'll like." That Angela thought ought to trap Vonda into a full retreat on everything she said both yesterday and today, but to her surprise Vonda took her up on her suggestion.

Vonda said. "Angela, that's a great idea. I've been watching your attire, and quite honestly it's much too metropolitan for our community. If you just let me, I'll help you design a wardrobe that will help you fit in more comfortably with everyone here and everyone in the neighborhood. I think you've come up with a great idea!"

Angela was taken completely aback, but didn't let on. "Vonda I knew you'd help me. Why together we can become like real sisters."

Vonda answered. "Yes! Yes indeed. I'll be the big sister, and you can be the little sister. We'll be true sisters. We'll be girlfriends! We'll go everywhere and do everything together. We'll become inseparable. That is we'll be inseparable everywhere, except when you and Brandon are alone. That's one place I think you and he need your privacy. By the way, have you and Brandon done any talking about children? I know Brandon wants to have at least a dozen."

Angela hid a grimace and smiled. "First, Vonda, we'll be sisters in every way, but no Brandon hasn't said anything to me about having children. I'd like to have children. Not twelve, but maybe three or four. I'll say something to him later tonight." Angela thought, kids, I don't need kids. I have my figure to think of. That doesn't mean I can't pretend to want them. There are million ways to keep from getting pregnant, and no one need ever know. I can make Brandon happy, separate him from his sister, and still get everything I want. 

At that moment they both heard Brandon descending the stairs. It was time for dinner.

The three all sat down to dinner. Brandon sat at the head, with Vonda on one side and Angela on the other. The maid brought in an opened bottle of wine. Brandon poured everyone a hefty glass. He raised his glass high. "Here's to the three of us."

Angela and Vonda both chorused in. "To the three of us."

They ate with gusto. The maid brought in a delicious roast beef drowned in potatoes, onions, and carrots. Warm rolls were made available. For dessert the maid served up pastries made in their own kitchen. They were rich pieces of cake smothered in a vanilla icing. Along with the cake each of the diners enjoyed a hearty brew of dark coffee. Brandon drank his with a small amount of cream. Both the girls used some additional sweetener. Vonda used regular sugar. Angela tempered hers with artificial sweetener. Throughout dinner they talked about a myriad of things, but the one thing that got the most animated attention had to with clothing, promises, and plans.

Brandon started the clothing conversation. "Well Angela, I believe you said you wanted Vonda to help you choose a new wardrobe?

Angela responded. "Well not exactly an entire new wardrobe, but certainly Vonda can help me go through some catalogues and pick out some new things that might be more fitting for the rustic setting of my newly adopted home."

Vonda interjected. "Those were my thoughts also. I can't imagine just discarding all the wonderful clothes Angela brought with her from the big city, but like Angela just said, we can look through some cataloges and pick out a few things that might be a better match for our immediate environment."

Brandon, trying to be helpful said. "Well you girls let me know if there is anything I can do to be of help. I know a few distributors who might be more than willing to get us a first look at some of the new fashions. Don't leave me out of the loop ladies. I want to be a part of this."

Vonda and Angela both cheerfully responded. "Don't be afraid Brandon, we'll keep you in the loop."

As the dinner drew to close all three McNaughton's had an own opinion about what had transpired. For Brandon it certainly seemed like everything was just where it ought to be. None of Angela's clothes would be discarded, but as she wore out each garment it would be replaced by something else, something that Vonda would choose. Vonda saw it in an entirely different light. She knew Angela would still want to wear the most provocative things she could find. It was just a question of days before all Angela's closets would be emptied, by force if need be, and everything she owned would be replaced by apparel of Vonda's choosing. Angela, though she didn't know it yet, was about to play right into Vonda's plans. Angela had absolutely no intention of letting Vonda do anything more than make the most perfunctory selections. Angela's clothing choices would be Angela's. No Vonda, no rustic setting, no disapproval from Brandon would interfere with that. In fact, tonight she would take Brandon down a new sexual path; a path where Angela would be able to gain what she believed would be even greater control over her emotionally besotted husband. Angela saw herself as the vixen, and Brandon was the poor rabbit trapped in her snare of sexuality. 

As bedtime drew near Angela plotted her strategy; a strategy that would keep Brandon even more closely tied to her carnal apron strings. Angela knew that all men had fantasies of control. She had read in numerous publications that even the most timid men fantasized about bondage, and about having a woman at their mercy. She had read how men dreamed of the woman of their choice sitting voluntarily at their feet, wearing chains, and begging for love and affection in the most abject and most obsequious manner. It was Angela's plan to lure Brandon into just such a fantasy, but a bondage fantasy in which Angela would have real control. 

Angela had surveyed the Internet and had found several on-line establishments that sold bondage equipment, but the one that really attracted her attention was a company that offered a special design of artificial bondage equipment. She looked further into their offerings and decided to buy what she felt she needed. For a hefty fee she was able to buy a set of manacles for her feet, another set for her hands, a collar with a length of chain, and a two inch wide adjustable waistband with its own fifteen feet of chain. The wrist, foot, and neck bands were all one inch width sized pieces, and just a little better than one-eighth inch in thickness. The connecting chain for the wrist manacles was six inches, and the connecting length for the ankles was eighteen inches. She thought the waistband might be a nice touch sometime, but she actually had no intention of using it any time soon. As a bonus the company had also sent her, for free, a ball gag. The ball gag had absolutely no allure for her, but was an interesting device. It was truly a ball gag, but the ball was small and clipped through what appeared to be something that looked like a horse bit. She tried it on, just like she had tried on everything else when it arrived, but, though it wasn't physically uncomfortable, it made her feel emotionally uncomfortable. Angela just didn't like the idea of not being able to talk. The ball gag went back in the shipping box along with the waistband and its length of chain. 

Angela was convinced the wrist, ankle, and neck manacles would be more than sufficient for her purposes. Of course, the beauty of the devices was they weren't really manacles at all. Yes, they could be fixed snugly around her wrists, ankles, and neck, and yes each one had its own self contained locking system accompanied by one universal key that opened and closed all the implements. The secret was that none of the manacles actually locked. Oh, they could be closed, and when they closed there was a stark and resounding click of finality, but the key, when inserted, only turned a small ratcheting device. There were no real locks. Each one, once fitted could be easily taken off by pushing a small disengagement switch on the object. The disengagement switch was easy to locate. Each manacle had the classic eye bolt fixture attached beside the imaginary locking mechanisms adjacent to the locking hinge. Once the locking mechanism was joined, pushing the disengagement switch could just as easily disengage the pretend manacle. There were no locks, no pad locks, nothing really, just several glorified pieces of jewelry. Additionally, since often metal could become heavy and uncomfortable these manacles were made of a newly fabricated plastic. They were solid, light, and they were flawless. They looked like slave chains. They were bright and silvery. They actually seemed to glisten and glow when worn. They could perform just like slave chains, but in fact, they were more like children's toys. Tonight Angela was going to give Brandon the thrill of a lifetime. His wife would become his own personal slave. His very own pleasure toy. She would be at his complete and utter mercy. She was expecting the greatest sexual night of their marriage. 

To add to the thrill of the evening Angela had purchased several pieces of lingerie that could only be described as slave outfits. The outfits were made of the whitest and softest silk. Their texture was so delicate and trim as be literally transparent. There was one that could be slipped directly down from above the head and tied on each side at the waist by silk ribbons. There was an accompanying white silk panty piece for this outfit that was also tied at the sides. The lingerie could be readily taken off by untying the silken ribbons. It was designed to be seductive, but easy to remove. The lingerie gave Angela a look of innocent helplessness no other wearing apparel she had ever bought before provided. Just the lingerie alone would probably be enough to drive Brandon crazy. When she added the manacles and chains, she was convinced he would go out of his mind. 

For this night Angela would add a little extra make up, and an alluring new perfume. Before putting the lingerie on she carefully went to the drawer where she had been keeping the bondage equipment. Opening the drawer she first got out the collar. She snapped it on her neck making sure the small safety release catch was in front. Next she took the ankle manacles and clipped each one on one of her feet. Somewhat tightly hobbled by these she decided to move over beside the bed before attaching the wrist pieces. Once beside the bed she affixed a wrist manacle to each hand. Then she took the length of lightweight chain and attached it to the massive headboard of the bed. Last she took the delicate white slave attire and dropped it over head her and tied it off at her waist. She did likewise with the panties. The softness of the silk stirred her inner thighs. Since the chain was twelve feet long this gave her ample space to move to the floor at the foot of the bed and kneel. There she knelt at the foot of the bed. Feet and hands chained together. Her legs were under her behind, while her hands she kept folded ever so demurely in her lap. The collar around her neck sat snugly but not uncomfortably. There she knelt waiting for her lord and master to come to bed. It was almost time!

Brandon looked at the clock. It was nine o'clock, and about that time to get off to bed. He was especially looking forward to tonight He had an idea Angela was preparing something special for this evening. She had made some significant compromises with Vonda earlier at dinner and, if he knew his new wife she would have something special cooked up. After the previous evening Brandon was afire with passion. He waited as long as he dared, and then started heading for their bedroom.

Brandon opened the bedroom door. The first and only thing he saw was his beautiful wife Angela. There she sat, kneeling on the carpeted floor at the foot of their bed. She was wearing what looked like some sort of Roman slave toga. It was the most brilliant white he'd ever seen. It shimmered in the soft bedroom light. Angela was breathing heavily, and he could see her exquisite breasts slowly rising and falling. The silvery white cloth accentuated her breathing motion. Her nipples were erect, and pressing against the soft fabric. He could see the darker outline of her aureole behind the soft white of the nightie. Her long blond hair was in a ponytail, pulled tightly backward and slightly upward. He looked at those wavy tresses cascading down her back. Her hair looked like shoreline breakers on the ocean. Interwoven in her long ponytail were pale blue and silver ribbons that only added to the illusion that she was some sort of sea nymph not resting on a bedroom carpet but gliding on a seashell along a frothy sea.

Angela peered up at Brandon with her pale blue eyes, highlighted with an even paler shade of blue eye shadow. She had plucked her eyebrows and had moistened them with a mixture soft silver-blue powder that was slightly, but not significantly darker than her other highlighted features. The shadow on the eyebrows served only to add to the mystery and the promise that was awaiting him.

Brandon saw her fingernails were enameled with a nearly clear polish that possessed a hint of the blue like the rest of her delicate face, hair, and body. She was certainly enticing. Unnerving even. Beneath her legs Brandon got a glimpse of her feet. He was convinced her toenails were enameled with the same mixture, but her silvery slippers concealed the contours of her small dainty feet. 

Angela took her chained hands and opened them, palms up, toward Brandon. She neither smiled nor gave any hint of emotion except pure devotion.

Brandon nearly lost his manly composure, but after a few seconds of conscientious restraint he approached her. He had no intention of touching or enfolding this delicate creature in front of him. He wanted to enjoy looking at the physical beauty before him. He took a nearby chair and moved it as close to her as he dared without getting so close as to touch or embrace her. He sat down.

Angela leaned forward. She found she had just enough chain to be able to reach Brandon's seated position if she leaned her head forward. Angela was just able to reach the crease between Brandon's legs. The crease where his manhood was now clearly standing stiffly erect. She reached forward with her hands and opened his trousers. She released his rigid member from its cloth prison and took it in her hands. She gently stroked it. She could feel the blood pulsing through it. Angela leaned forward and brushed it carefully with her lips. She could tell his burgeoning erection was crying out for release. Angela leaned down and with her lips. She pressed a kiss on the head of his penis. She continued to softly kiss him. She moved her tongue toward the nub of his member and began to encircle it slowly with the tip of her tongue. She pressed her mouth more firmly on his head, and began to slowly take more of him into her mouth. She could feel the heat emanating from him. She kissed deeper and harder, drawing more and more of him into her mouth. She began to alternatively suck, kiss, and tongue his penis. 

Brandon sat stiffly at first, but then reached down for the woman. He tenderly lifted her from the carpet and carried her to bed. He found her feet were chained together making it difficult for him to get between her legs. He lifted her legs and placed them over his shoulders. Angela lay on her back. Her legs resting comfortably on his shoulders while he began to attend to both his and her needs. He found the ribbons that confined her breasts, and untied them. Reaching down he began to caress each delicate bud with his hands. He leaned forward and kissed each one. He began to consume each succulent tear shaped -morsel with his tongue and mouth. Angela breathed a deep sigh of both emotional and psychological release. She was experiencing complete sexual rapture. She thought, this must be what it was like to be a goddess. Her breathing became deeper and faster the more attention Brandon gave her breasts. She could feel a moist warmth rising in her loins.

Brandon slowly lowered his attention to that feminine fortress between her shapely legs. He dropped down and began to pay it more attention. First to her inner thighs; then her vagina. He began to kiss her vaginal hood, then her labia. His tongue found its way beneath her hood to her most sacred compartment. There beneath her hood he began to kiss and lick her clitoris. He alternately applied pressure, then kissed, and then licked that most cherished place. Angela was approaching a moment of convulsive eruption when Brandon leaned back. He leaned forward and reached again for her breasts. He moved forward and covered her mouth with his. His tongue began to trace the inner edges of her lips. He breathed in her feminine aroma. Concurrently he began to approach her vagina with his penis. Slowly he penetrated her. As always he allowed every minute movement to become its own singular moment of conquest. As he penetrated deeper and deeper, she became hotter, wetter, and more convulsed with sexual desire. Together they began to move back and forth. Together they shared several moments of the most gratifying sexual self- awareness imagined. Then, as if on a predetermined signal, both man and woman exploded in a single moment of physical unity and completeness. He poured his manly essence deep into her womb. It was hot, wet, and it spewed in like lava bursting from a roiling volcano. She moaned. He breathed deeply and gave a stupendous sigh. Together they lay in each other's arms. Clinging tightly to each other, as if they were trying to forbid the departure of that single powerful unifying moment. 

Gradually Brandon's manhood began recede. She lay under him, arms around his powerful shoulders in complete harmony with everything in nature. Finally he withdrew, but this time he didn't leave the bed. He lay there beside her. Together they lay side by side enjoying the dying embers of a singularly gratifying experience. 

He pushed her so that she lay on her left side. With her back to him, and his stomach pressing against her they fell into a deep state of relaxation. Brandon wrapped his arms around her She was encased within his powerful masculine embrace. Brandon the man and master. Angela the weaker, the female, chained hands and feet, with a collar around her neck and a chain confining her to the bed. It didn't matter that the chains and collar could be disconnected anytime. Their presence gave Angela a sense of complete vulnerability and dependence. It made her feel both possessed and possessing at the same time.


Angela and Vonda Ch. 02



While they lay together Angela began to feel something press against her rearward cheeks. Brandon's manhood was entering a state of resurgence. She pressed backward against him. He pressed forward against her until his member found that special secret place between her legs again. For a second time she and Brandon rose to a crescendo of emotional awareness. Lying side by side he pressed harder and harder, deeper and deeper, invading her darkest recesses. Brandon held each of her smallish breasts in his hands, a thumb on each nipple, while pulling her back against his chest. She pressed back with all her might Together they coupled a second time. This second was as deep and fulfilling as any other in their married lives. She moaned, she sighed, she whimpered, she breathed in deep gulps of air like each breath might be her last. Brandon, for his part, grabbed and squeezed, and hugged, and pressed, and pushed, and penetrated deeper, deeper than either of them had ever previously experienced. Together there was second explosion. Gasping, both sighing they lay together, exhausted. Together they fell asleep, really asleep. He with his arms wrapped tightly around her as though she was some rare and precious ornament he could not bear to release. She lay in his arms like a child, engulfed in the love and proprietary power of her man, her provider, and her master. They both fell into a deep uninterrupted slumber. 

Brandon woke up early. He rolled over and looked at Angela lying beside him asleep. She lay there for the world, an angel in name, but he knew the truth about rest. He quietly slipped out of their bed, showered, shaved, dressed and headed off for the airport and from there to work. This might be a shorter day, and in spite of his wife's unmentioned peculiarities, she was certainly a delight to have in bed. Maybe he could pull off an even quicker workday, and get back extra early so they could get away somewhere on the estate. He hadn't shown her half of what she thought she owned. He liked the idea of taking some time and showing her around. He felt good. Brandon thought, "He really did, honestly love her. God knows, that woman knows how to make a man feel like a man. Maybe he if were more of a doting husband. She'd become a more mature, more responsible, wife."

Vonda was up early too. She had plans of her own. First, she intended to stop at the servants' area and have a few quiet informal discussions among the more senior staff. These people were all paid well. They earned much better money with the McNaughton's than they could anywhere else, and they knew it. Vonda had an ulterior motive for this visit. She knew Angela had garnered no loyalty among the servants. She had an imperious demeanor that left the women cold and the men resentful. Vonda had a sense that their feelings could play a role regarding events that might arise further down the road. For Vonda there was nothing like a little advanced reconnoitering. 

Angela slept in. When she did finally awaken it was with a profound sense of personal fulfillment. Self-satisfied. She'd had one wonderful evening with her husband. It had been a heavenly night of passions and love. The manacles, chains, and her slave chemise had added all the right touches to make one terrific night of love. 

Angela got up, pressed all the disengagement links on her ankle, neck, and wrist manacles. She disconnected the length of chain attached to the head of the bed, and replaced everything back in the box they all come packaged in. She put the box away, blew it a kiss, and made a promise she would return to it when the next occasion called for their use. 

Next it was off to the showers. She turned on the shower and let the water run until it was heated. She stepped in and began to scrub off the evening's sex and sleep. She washed her hair, and scrubbed and rinsed her body. Stepping out of the shower she looked herself over. She needed to shave under her arms and trim her nether region. Once that was completed Angela sat before the mirror and gazed at herself. She didn't mind admitting it; she was a beautiful woman. She went to work on her make up; a little light lipstick, some soft eye shadow, and just a little blush. She tweaked her nipples to see how they were fairing. They looked pretty good, but just to make sure she took a tiny piece of cotton and dabbed just a smidgen of red dye on the tip of each one. She thought, just in case she decided to wear something a little bit daring, the red tips would, perhaps, make her nipples just a tad more visible. She saw no reason why, after last evening, she couldn't be a little wanton today. There, then with a pop of baby powder under her arms, around her waist, and over the rest of her breasts, Angela was ready to pick out the day's outfit. 

She opened her first walk in closet to inspect her wonderful clothes, and select an outfit for the day. She expected that she and Vonda would be home most, if not all the day, so she wanted to select something that would be more modest than what she had worn when they went to town. Still she wanted something just daring enough that it would cause Vonda to feel uncomfortable. 

Angela lounged up and down her closet looking over all the clothes she had. What to wear? What should she wear today? There were so many things to choose from. Decisions, decisions. What was a well-dressed woman to do? Should she wear another sun-dress? No, the comparison with yesterday would be too transparent. Should she go for the young coed look, and put on a crisp white blouse, pleated kilt, knee high socks, and penny loafers? That might be cool. She could go for the sophisticated lady look. Yes, she could grab one of her longer dresses with a plunging neckline. Then again, there were horses in the barn not far away. She could don some riding attire. Nothing like some tight tan trousers, a stiff starched blouse, sharply pressed jacket, and glossy riding boots to show off the young lady about the estate. Maybe she could just go for the flip floppy look? Just slip on a loose fitting romper. That could be something that would raise Vonda's right eyebrow. Angela had several. She looked more closely. Here was one. It was a nice scooped neck sleeveless outfit that was essentially a spaghetti strap top. There was extra material that added support for her breasts without being a bra. Putting it on, from the side she noticed there was more than just a hint of breast. It had a two-inch cloth belt, about ten buttons down the front, and loose fitting pants that came just about a third the way down the thigh. The panty segment had a tap pant look that Angela thought was very sexy. The outfit had a pale pink and blue pattern on an off white background. It certainly wasn't see-through, but the outfit left little to the imagination. It fit very comfortably. She thought about putting on some under pants, but the lower portion of the outfit was reinforced with extra material. No, panties were an option she didn't need. Looking around she spotted just the shoes she wanted. They were an off white just like the base color of the romper. In fact they were intended to be worn with the romper. She slipped them on. They were very comfortable with a modest two-inch sling backed heel. They buckled at the front, and had a bow down at the point where her toes met her feet. She took them off. Donned some ankle length lacy white socks, and put the shoes back on. 

Angela pranced around in front of one of her full-length mirrors. She noticed when she walked her boobies bounced gaily in cadence with her step. She mentally giggled, "This could be a bouncing boobie day." With this on she could spend the day just loping around their huge mansion. She could drape herself over a sofa and watch some television. She could bounce down to the kitchen and annoy the cooks. She might decide to go outside and strut around a little bit in front of the gardeners. If it was too warm she might saunter around the house showing off in front of the maids. They were all an obsequious lot, well beneath contempt. She might parade around a little, sidle over one of the lazy boys, read a trashy novel, and just generally make all the help feel envious and jealous. This could be a really fun day. Her mind continued to explore the possibilities. I'll bet I could really get under Vonda's skin, but since we're staying home how could her sister really complain. Brandon probably won't get home till late. I'll play all day, and just before dinner slip upstairs and change into something more modest. So up from the dressing table Angela jumped, dressed and feeling naughty and obnoxious, she opened the bedroom door and skipped out to see what she could get into. 

Angela went to work on the servants and other staff members with a vengeance born of boredom and resentment. She desperately wanted to embarrass and humiliate her sister, but the only way that seemed possible was to harass the people who worked for them. 

Angela started with the outside workers. There were several she disliked, but the one who most piqued her sense of self importance was the older man who supervised the largely Hispanic work force. His name was Bernard, and he seemed to have the unqualified support of both her husband and his insipid sister. Angela thought it would be great fun to tease the older man.

She found Bernard outside as usual. Today he was turning the soil on some rose bushes. Vonda especially liked the rose bushes. Angela crept up on Bernard, and stepped right into the middle of the soft soil he was turning. She proceeded to kick and scrape her way through the moist material getting her feet and ankles nice and muddy. As Bernard looked up to say something Angela stooped low and gave him a terrific breast shot. She could tell she had caught him completely off guard. He gasped at her partially exposed breasts and the way her nipples urgently pressed against the soft fabric of her chemise. 

A flustered Bernard asked. "Miss Angela, why are you out here with so little on? I'd feel terrible if the sun were to blister your delicate skin."

Angela's scheme didn't seem to be working with Bernard, and she said. "Bernard, you should keep your eyes in their sockets. I just wanted to check on your progress with Vonda's roses."

Bernard regained his composure. He understood what Angela was up to. He said. "Well Miss Angela I'm glad you asked, and I'm glad you came out. Would you like to help out?"

Angela had no intention of getting involved with the gardening. She'd surprised Bernard and given him a nice shot of her endowments, and that was enough for now. She replied. "Thanks Bernard, but I'm on my way back inside."

Bernard smiled and said. "Here Miss Angela, before you go back inside let me rinse off your feet."

He deftly took the nearby watering hose and squirted her feet, ankles, knees, thighs, and lower torso. As he sprayed her he doused her chemise with a sharp blast of the cold water.

Angela lept back in stunned surprise. Her thin chemise was soaked, and her breasts, wasp like waist, and vaginal areas were all enticingly exposed through the clinging translucent wetness. 

Angela had come outside to toy with the gardener, but he had turned the tables. Now she stood in front of him naked except for a sodden and skimpy play suit. 

Angela hurried inside to dry off, and perhaps plot some different strategy with some other member of the household staff.

Before she was completely dry Angela got a whiff of something that smelled really tasty. It was emanating from the kitchen. The house was massive, and had a large staff so there was always something going on in the kitchen. What Angela smelled now was pastry, and her mouth began to water. While she contemplated the goodies being made ready for dinner, Angela also reflected on the aloof nature of the main household cook. Her name was Beatrice, and Angela was convinced the cook held her in particularly low esteem. Angela thought this might be a wonderful opportunity to get some snacks and also perhaps find a way to knock Beatrice down a notch or two.

With hair bouncing and boobies bobbing Angela skipped off to the kitchen to find her next victim. She only hoped her next exploit would be a little more successful than the mixed outcome she'd had with the gardener. Into the kitchen she skipped, and there was Beatrice, rolling dough and preparing buns for supper. 

Angela sauntered over to the flour covered preparation table to begin her next attack. She slithered up behind the cook and yelped. "Beatrice". 

The shrill and unexpected voice caught the cook completely off guard. She dropped a whole wad of freshly kneaded dough on the floor. 

"Well that's ruined." Screeched Angela in what she hoped was her shrillest and most condemnatory voice.

The cook turned and said. "Well it sure does look like that dough's been wasted. We'll just have to start over from scratch." She pondered her next comment and then offered. "Angela would you be a true angel and help me get started anew."

For Angela this was better than she expected. "Why certainly, I'd be glad to help out a little."

Beatrice put on her best smile and asked. "Would you be a dear and reach down and get the ruined dough so I won't have to get my hands soiled?"

Angela bent to obtain the lost dough.

While Angela bent low toward the floor to garner in the wasted food, the cook reached around, grabbed a full bag of flour, and dumped it right on Angela's head. "Oh my." She exclaimed. "I'm so sorry." Before Angela could effectively respond Beatrice took her hands and started brushing the dough off and away from Angela's encrusted face, hair, and jumper, but the more she brushed the more deeply embedded the flour became. Within seconds Angela seemed to be covered from head to foot in the white powdery substance.

Angela was furious. "Now look what you've done. My jumper wasn't completely dry from the awful spraying that rude gardener gave me. Look at me now. I must look a mess!"

The cook contritely responded. "Well you certainly do have a new look about you. You remind me of one of those porcelain dolls girls used to buy back in the 1800's."

"What am I going to do now?" Growled Angela. "I can't go upstairs looking like this."

The cook was one jump ahead of her. "You could slip out the back way and run down to the kennels. There were only four dogs there now, but I'm sure Betty, our kennel mistress is still on hand."

Angela thought for a moment and responded. "Yes, I could go down there, use some of the puppy shampoo to rinse out my hair and get this flour mess off me. Good idea! I'll do that."

While Angela left to get cleaned up Beatrice called ahead to the kennel. When Betty answered the phone the cook told her what had happened and what Angela intended to do. 

Now Betty despised Angela. She rightly felt the new mistress had a very low regard for dogs and an even lower regard for anyone who handled them. 

Before Angela got to the kennels Betty had hidden all but a few bottles of the dog shampoo, and the only bottles she left out were designed for use with animals that had fur problems. She tore the labels off these bottles, and then placed them very prominently in the third of the five kennels, since kennel runs one, two, four, and five were all occupied by animals. 

When Angela got to the kennel area Betty was nowhere to be found, but Angela did espy the shampoo bottles in the third dog run. Without a thought she walked the distance to the run, opened the page fence gate, and stepped in to get the shampoos. The bottles were closer to the far end so Angela had to step away from the gate, walk several paces, and bend over to get the shampoos. This action required her to leave the gate. As Angela leaned over to get the cleanser the gate shut with a loud clang.

Angela wasn't concerned since there were never any locks on any of the inside doors anywhere in the house. She certainly didn't expect a lock on a dog gate, and there wasn't. What Angela did find when she stepped back to the entrance, however, was just as irrevocable and complete as if a lock had been hinged to the door. The kennel run was for dogs, and no locks were needed, but some of the dogs were clever enough to paw or claw the gates open. To prevent this from occurring Betty had affixed all the page fence gate locks with a square foot of plywood sheeting. The lock itself was easy to open, but to open it the lock had to be reached. Angela discovered, try as she might she couldn't reach through the page fencing, and she couldn't reach around the strategically placed plywood. 

Angela was locked in a dog run, and there was no way to obtain running water inside the run. The only way Angela could get any water would be to crawl though rubber flap that separated the inside area from the sun area on the outside. 

Angela was at a loss. There was nothing else to do but crawl outside. Kneeling down she crawled her way to the rubber flap and peaked through. Luckily each run had its own separate outer strecth. It looked to be about forty feet long, about five feet in width, and perhaps six feet high. Each outer run was topped by page link fencing, presumably to keep the dogs from jumping or climbing out of their respective areas. At the far end Angela saw there was a short hose, probably used for watering the dogs when they were outside, or rinsing the area after a rain or a cleaning.

There was nothing else to do. Angela thought, she'd crawl through the gap, go to the hose, and wash away the grit and flour she was encrusted with. Once clean she would return to the inside of the run and call for help. It would be embarrassing. She didn't want to do it, but didn't there seem to be any other choice.

Through the low gap Angela crawled. At last, she had a chance to get clean. She stood and started for the hose. Suddenly she heard a very loud and disquieting clank from behind. She looked back and saw a heavy metal shutter had dropped down over the opening she'd just crawled though. Forgetting the shampoo and the hose Angela turned to lift the metal grate. It was shut solid. Apparently there was some kind of clasp or clamp on the inside that prevented its opening from her side of the run. Angela tugged on the blocking door with all her might. It wouldn't budge. In frustration she pounded on it with her tiny fists. This little door was as solid as Fort Knox. 

Dropping the shampoo Angela ran for the other end of the run. There had to be a way out! There was. When she reached the far end of the run she found another exterior gate just like the one that had blocked her way when she was inside. This couldn't be happening. She was trapped! In desperation Angela started to yell for help.

When Angela stepped into the outer run she had aroused all the dogs. They were all outside with her now. Two were sniffing in her direction. One was laying down watching. The last just stood there wagging his tail. As Angela started to call out for help all the dogs started to bark. Most of the barking was modest, but one larger dog, obviously some kind of husky, began to bray and howl like a maddened wolf. Every time Angela called for help the dogs barked. She was certain no one would be able to hear her cries because of the cacophony of noise. 

Angela was only partly right. Betty was inside and she had surreptitiously watched and heard everything. Not only that, but Betty had leveraged all the other runs so the dogs would be able to go in and out. Only Angela was trapped outside. Betty looked at her watch. It was barely 11:30 a.m. Her schedule didn't require her to be back with the dogs until 4:00 p.m. The sun was already high in the sky, and it looked like it was going to be a hot one. Betty thought about how hot and uncomfortable it was going to get for poor Angela. There she was, outside in a dog run, caked with flour, with no shade to offer any respite, and wearing only a skimpy little jumper. Well at least Angela could turn on the hose and rinse off, and if she used the dog shampoo she could rid herself of the flour and dirt grime. Betty thought about that, as she silently walked back up the hall that led away from the dog kennels. Wasn't it just too bad that some thoughtless person had turned off the water? Poor little Angela was just going to have stick it out, dry, gritty, dirty, and by 4:00 p.m. probably thoroughly tanned, or more likely burnt.




Angela and Vonda Ch. 02



As Betty made her silent departure Angela surveyed her situation. Her jumper was soiled and dirty. It scarcely covered more than a small portion of her body. She reached for the hose. The hose would be her salvation until someone came to rescue her. Angela flipped the handle. She froze! The water spigot had been turned off! Only a few drops of water dribbled forth. She looked about at what had now become her prison. There was no way out! She tried climbing the page fencing. If she was light enough, or if the roof portion wasn't too tightly affixed she might yet escape. Three times she climbed the six-foot siding and tore at the top. The last time she was so intent on breaking free she fell backward skinning her rear end and tearing the thin frail fabric that was her only protection. The dogs were all barking gaily. Angela knelt on the hard, dry dirt ground. She could see the shadow of the page fence across her bare arms and legs. She felt the encrusted flour on her clothes, her arms, face, and legs. She began to weep. 



Angela and Vonda Ch. 03



Poor Angela, trapped in the kennel and no one to rescue her. Her sister Vonda suspected she was in trouble somewhere, but had no interest in helping the dizzy little bitch. The kennel mistress, gardener, and the head cook, they all knew what was up, and were reveling in the young woman's discomfort. It looked like a long day was in store for Brandon's little waif of a wife.

Brandon had called his day off early. He wanted to get home and see what Angela might be getting into. He was certain nothing was wrong, but he had a sixth sense about those things. Angela was going to get in trouble. He just knew it. His a.m. conversation with his sister underwrote his anxiety. He and Vonda had talked on the phone. Brandon didn't want to hurt Angela, but after listening to his sister's comments, he'd come to the conclusion his wife needed to be taken down more than just one or two pegs. 

Together he and Vonda had devised a plan for Angela, a plan that would make her a better wife, and make everyone around her happier. It called for some immediate intervention.

After their little powwow Vonda had begun to put the first part of their plan work. She had no idea where Angela was, but she was certain Angela wouldn't be going upstairs for quite a while. Thus armed, Vonda put three of the female servants to work clearing everything out of Angela's closets and bureaus. 

Moreover, though Angela had tacitly agreed to let Vonda arbiter her attire, She knew Angela would never accept wearing anything her sister selected. To avert a crisis Vonda had already gone on the Internet and ordered a completely new wardrobe. Vonda smiled as she thought about what Angela's reaction would be when she saw her new digs. The new attire was designed to help give Angela an entirely different perspective on who she was, what her new place was going to be in the household, and how she was going to treat and be treated by all those around her. Vonda knew it would have a stunning impact. 

Out in the kennel the sun was moving slowly, ever so slowly across the sky. Every minute, every second was an agony of pain. Angela's pale skin was unused to this type of torment. Nothing anywhere offered the least respite from her discomfort. The ground was hard. The air was hot and dry. Every movement brought little clouds of dust. There were tiny pebbles all over the unforgiving surface soil. She found no escape from the merciless little sores they inspired. At first she thought she could take her hands and wipe away the brittle little stones to create an area of softer soil, but to her chagrin, the more she wiped the more irregular the ground became. She tried sitting against the fence, but that lost its appeal as the irregular diamond shaped metal spaces only scraped hard against the skimpy cloth that covered her back. Yet sitting away from the fence wasn't any better since it required repeated changes in posture. 

In desperation she rubbed the dog shampoo on her most exposed areas. Within minutes she realized that was a horrible mistake. The shampoo dried into a hard plaster that served as only to stimulate the affects of the torrid rays of the sun. Oh how she cried. Her poor soft, matchless skin was becoming red, wrinkled, and scarred. She felt terrible. She was like a rat in a trap. Worse, she knew this was all her own doing. The dirt, the flour, now the dog shampoo was all because of her own perverse interest in trying to embarrass and make fools of others. Oh,if only Brandon were here. If she ever needed anyone, she needed him now.

Brandon got home a little after 2:00 p.m. At the Entrance to the front door he asked after his wife. Everyone he spoke to had no any idea where she might be. Vonda had been busy planning their next party. None of the maids had seen her, though Mary said she had seen her outside with Bernard in the garden. When Brandon asked Bernard the only response he got was that she had been outside, gotten her clothes wet, and had gone inside to dry off. Brandon checked with the garage, but none of the chauffeurs had come into contact with her. Brandon finally gave up, he thought he'd make a trip to the kitchen to see if he could grab a snack before supper. 

When Brandon reached the kitchen he could smell the delicious aromas of freshly baked bread, recently dipped donuts, and slow roasted beef. With a few flattering remarks he was able to connive a couple of Beatrice's sugar coated donuts. As a last parting comment he asked if she had seen Angela at all that day. "Oh, by the way." He began. "No one seems to know where my wife might have gotten to. Have you seen her today at all?" 

Beatrice responded. "Well yes, Miss Angela was here earlier around 10:30 a.m. She made a terrible mess of the pastries. She got flour on herself from head to foot. Left in quite a huff."

"Do you know where she went?"

Beatrice made a pretense of giving the question thoughtful consideration. In truth she knew exactly where Angela had gone. "I think she said she was going to the kennels. She said it would be more discreet to clean up down there out of the way, than run around the whole house covered in flour and top soil."

Brandon commented. "Top soil you say?"

"Well yes" Was the cook's reply. "She'd been outside in the rose garden with Bernard where she had made a mess."

Brandon's curiosity was piqued. He wondered if Angela had made it to the kennels. After chewing on a piece of cheese, he finally set off for the kennels. He doubted if Angela was there. She was a little fearful of the dogs, and she wasn't very fond of Betty, the groom either.

Brandon made for the inside of the kennel. The dogs were all barking and dashing in and out of their runs. He stopped at the first run where Annie, his favorite, a black lab retriever, was pushing up against the gate wagging her tail. 

"Hey Annie" Brandon called out. 

Annie jumped at the gate in delight. 

"That's my girl" said Brandon. "What a good girl your are!" Brandon gave Annie a chunk of the cheese he was munching on. Then he proceeded down the rest of the kennel. Everything looked ship shape. The indoor runs were all clean. The dogs were all scampering in and out. Water was in all the dishes, and where there was supposed to be food there was food. 

Reaching the end of the indoor area Brandon thought he would just turn back around and head back into the house, but something was nagging at him. Instead of doing a 180 he walked on to the end and started around to the outside. It was a beautiful day, a little warm, but generally speaking just the kind of day he liked. Light fluffy cumulus clouds wafted across an otherwise clear blue sky. That's when he spied her. She was huddled at the far end of the third outdoor run. He couldn't be sure from the angle but he bet she'd been there for quite a while. Brandon called out. "Angela!" 

Angela looked up and saw Brandon. She started to cry. Lurching up slowly from her cramped position she called out to him. "Brandon help me. I got trapped in this dog run, and I've been here nearly all day. Brandon, please hurry."

Instantly Brandon was at the outer gate. Opening it quickly he stepped inside and scooped her up.

Angela cried out in pain. The sun, dirt, pebbles, encrusted shampoo, her sides, the creases between her joints. Angela couldn't tell which hurt the most.

Brandon let her down so she could stand. Meanwhile the outer run gate door clanged shut.

Angela cried. "OH, Brandon, now we're both trapped in here."

Brandon looked at her askance. "What are you talking about?" He turned around and lifted an unseen rod, and the gate slid open as if by magic. "Angela these gates aren't intended to keep anything inside but the dogs. Here look. Did you see the rod here sandwiched between the gate and the fence post? All you had to do was lift the rod and the gate swiftly opens. Here try it yourself."

Angela reached out and tried the rod. As if by magic the gate opened. If she ever felt stupid or foolish before, it was nothing compared to the way she felt at that moment.

Brandon asked. "When you came down, didn't Betty show you how this worked?"

Angela responded. "No one was here when I came down. I was alone. I couldn't find anyone so I thought I'd go into the run and rinse off before going back to the house. Then I got inside and couldn't find a way out. I went outside, and then I got caught outside because the metal door closed off the inside of the run from the outside. Oh, Brandon I've been out here all day. No one came. I cried out, but every time I called the dogs started barking. No one heard me. Brandon I'm so tired.

Brandon was very solicitous. "There Angela. Let's get you inside. We'll get a couple of the girls to clean you up and straighten things out. Then we'll get you off to bed. I'll call the doctor and see if we can't get this sunburn cleared up. Actually it doesn't look too bad. I think a cool bath, some aloe, and some rest will do you a world of good."

Together they walked toward the house. Angela a cringing, limping, humbled mess, and Brandon the proud heroic husband.

As they headed away from the kennel toward the house three employees hiding in the kitchen, Bernard, Beatrice, and Betty, looked on; all with well-concealed glee. They said nothing, but all thought the same thing. They were delighted the little snit, their new mistress had gotten a suitable punishment for some of her condescending behaviors. What she got served her right.

When they reached the house Brandon called out to Mary, one the serving girls and the one he knew he could absolutely rely on. 

Mary, ever prompt and ever ready to help, appeared from the kitchen. She took one look at Angela, a second look at Brandon, and immediately and correctly surmised what had happened. She said. "Here, let me get her upstairs."

Brandon gratefully answered. "Thanks Mary. Get Dorothy and Margie. See what the three of you can do to get my wife cleaned up."

Mary replied. "Don't worry sir. We'll get her fixed up in a jiffy."

Knowing Angela was in good hands he set his sights for the kitchen, and surprising no one, he found Betty, Beatrice, and Bernard all standing together, behaving like three new born innocents. 

Beatrice spoke first. "Did you find Miss Angela? I hope everything is all right."

Brandon gave her an enigmatic smile. "Things are fine Beatrice." Then he turned on them. "By the way, I'd like the three of you out of here before dinner. I'll see each of you receives six months severance, and if you leave quietly, I'll see you all get excellent recommendations." Stepping closer to the three he added. "On the other hand, if you want to challenge me, I'll see to it none of you ever forgets me or what you've done to my wife." 

Beatrice started to speak, but Brandon held up his hand. "Beatrice it's in your best interest to leave silently and immediately." 

The three looked at each other, looked once at their former employer, and then all three turned and headed their separate ways.

Brandon had hated to dismiss all of them, but he knew all three were culpable. He couldn't tolerate their continued presence in his house, especially since the new arrangements that were to be imposed on Angela would have made their continuance totally intolerable for his foolish and childish young wife. His wife's status had to be realigned, but that wouldn't include the suffocating humiliation of having to subsist in the presence of those who delighted in her torment.

Mary helped Angela upstairs and to her room. She used the intercom to get Margie and Dorothy. Mary left Angela on the bed and went to the bathroom to draw a bath.

When the other girls arrived they were appalled by the condition of their new mistress. They asked Mary what had happened. Mary told them she couldn't say for certain, but she thought some of the other people around the estate had deliberately done some bad things to her. 

Together the three maids got Angela out of her tattered jumper and into a tepid bath. Mary sent Margie out to find some aloe. Dorothy was sent off for some soft silk sheets and something cool and refreshing to drink. 

Mary went to work. She had Angela lean back in the tub. "Now I want you to relax Miss Angela. I'm going to wash this dirt, and debris off you. Then together we'll take some the water sprayer and rinse you off. Margie is off getting some lotions and Dorothy is out to get some soft silk sheets. You just lay back and relax. I'll be very careful. I promise"

Angela lay back, her head cupped in Mary's arm. Mary started gently wiping her face. She abjured from using a cloth, deciding her hands would be better. Mary, having been a maid all her life had always kept her hands clean and soft and her fingernails were always carefully trimmed. Now her tiny hands and fingers softly caressed Angela's marred skin. 

Mary's gentle hands and fingertips felt good on Angela's taut and tired face. Moving further down, Mary, still using only her hands, lovingly wiped the dirt away from Angela's breasts. She worked her way down her chest to her stomach. Taking gobs of soap from a liquid dispenser she deftly wiped the harsh dirt from Angela's private area. Carefully, with only her fingertips she cleaned the encrusted dirt from Angela's pubic hair and her delicate vaginal crease. She daintily rubbed between Angela's labia, and then reaching around, heedful of Angela's delicate condition carefully wiped away the day's dirt from her ass cheeks and that special place, that hidden orifice generally designed only for the exit of waste but Mary knew had many alternative uses. As she wiped, she admired the exquisite beauty of Angela's rosy red ass and her beautiful wrinkled anal doorway. Mary was superbly gentle as she used her small fingers and thumbs to wipe between those marvelous cheeks. Taking the sprayer she misted Angela's frontal body, rinsing away the remaining dirt. She asked Angela to turn on her side so she could mist away the filth from her back, her ass cheeks, and the backs of her upper thighs. 

While Mary lovingly cleaned her mistress she glanced down to see Angela looking up at her. It was a quizzical look. Mary looked at her saying. "I had a younger brother who died of Leukemia. During his last weeks with us it was my job to see after him just like this. I'm sorry if I'm hurting you. I don't mean to." Mary had lied. It had been a younger sister, but she was afraid to admit her almost slavish love of the female form.

Angela gave Mary a wan smile and leaned her tired head against the maid's black silk uniform, her protective arms, those thin almost childlike shoulders, and her small firm breasts. Angela whispered. "You're not hurting me. Mary, you're not hurting me at all." 

For Angela, Mary's soft ministrations were like manna from heaven. Giving Mary another side wise glance, Angela wondered why she hadn't noticed how pretty Mary was. She had dark brown eyes; rich but delicate lashes, well shaped softly arching eyebrows, and ruby red cheeks. Her ears were almost perfectly round. She had no earlobes to speak of, and the tiny hoop earrings looked perfect. Her nose was small and slightly turned up, giving her an impish appearance. Her hair was a dark, very dark, brown, and its short cut with all its curls and the short bangs hovering on the top half of her forehead made her look much younger than she really was. Angela thought, though she certainly wasn't a lesbian, if she were, it would be someone like Mary she could fall for.

Mary looked at Angela and thought about her last love relationship. It had been with a woman. Mary believed she wasn't absolutely gay, but she knew she was at least bisexual. She took her two hands and cupped Angela's face. Leaning forward she pressed a soft kiss on Angela's forehead. It felt warm and wonderful.

Angela was startled but didn't oppose Mary's kiss. In fact it felt good. Not like when Brandon kissed her, but good in a different way. It was a languid lingering affectionate kiss. It hinted at promises of things that might come.

A little while later Dorothy and Margie showed up. While the two of them made the bed, Mary got Angela up and again, using only her hands, wiped aloe all over her body. She covered every nook and cranny. She wiped her face, around her neck, under her chin, her chest, all around her breasts paying special attention to her aureoles and nipples. Mary wiped under Angela's arms, across her back, down her spine, her stomach, her hips, down around her vagina, her vaginal hood, in between her labia, then down and around the crease between her ass cheeks, her thighs, her knees, lower legs, her feet, the bottoms of her feet, and last her ankles and her toes. No portion of Angela's body was left untouched. Every smidgen of skin got its own special caress. Mary titillated and fondled every inch. Last, quietly while the other maids weren't looking, Mary leaned down and pressed a hot kiss on Angela's clitoris. 

They got Angela into bed, covered her up, and left her to go to sleep. As they left Mary looked back and told Angela. "I'm going downstairs, but I'll be right back up. Please try to get some sleep. I won't be away long." She was going downstairs to talk with Angela's husband. She didn't dare tell her though, fearing she'd want to know what was said. Mary was hoping Mr. Brandon was going to give Mary special privileges regarding his wife.

Brandon called Mary into his office. He asked. "Mary, how is my wife doing?"

Mary answered. "The mistress has some sunburn, and a few scrapes and scratches, but I think, if she's stays quiet for a couple days she'll be good as new." Then she added something that wasn't exactly true. "She been behaving strangely lately. I hope this hasn't caused any added stress."

Brandon listened. Mary's comments bore some weight. If Mary thought his wife were really ill disposed then Vonda's recent remarks made more sense. But he still had to be careful with Mary. "I want to thank you Mary for your loyalty and your hard work. I know neither you, nor any of the other young girls like yourself had any inkling as to how my wife came to be in such a condition. Am I right in that regard?"

Mary looked at her employer and answered. "No, none of the people inside the house knew where the mistress was, but in all honesty the story about what happened is common knowledge now. I'm sorry sir. If I'd known I would have helped her. Any one of us would have. We just didn't know." She went on. "Sir, I know it's a very embarrassing thing that happened. I don't want to lose my job. I like it here. We all like it here. We like you. You and your sister have been kind and generous to a fault. We really don't know your wife well, but what happened to her was shameful. She's so frail. I'm sorry. I misspoke."

Brandon gave her a warm smile. "Mary I'm counting on you to see to it this incident is quickly forgotten. I'm sure my wife holds none of the people inside, excepting the cook, accountable, and I'm equally sure she doubts if any of you know very much. The people I had to deal with are gone. No one else should feel threatened."

Mary demurely faced down and away. "Yes sir."

Brandon went on a different tangent. "Mary you probably know we have another concern. I agree my wife is frail. She has a frail personality. To help her she is going to undergo a kind of therapy, and you, along with Margie and Dorothy, are going to be important helpers. My wife has some special needs. Among those is the need for attention and affection. To help facilitate that Vonda and I have decided to give my wife the opportunity to get to know everybody in the house in new and special ways. We are going to make a schedule for my wife. From time to time she'll be helping you and the other maid staff. At other times she'll be given the opportunity to play and relax, while at still other times she'll be allowed to rediscover some of things that make being an individual important. This will be a great adventure for my wife. An adventure of rediscovery we might say. You Mary, and the other girls, will be my crucial helpers. Now I'm going to make things easy for you. I'll post my wife's schedule on your computer. Only you, Vonda, and myself will have it. Follow that schedule Mary. Be polite, respectful, and considerate of my wife's feelings. Be a companion, but follow the schedule. 




Angela and Vonda Ch. 03



Mary eyes cast down nodded.

I want to be clear. There may even be times when you'll be expected to put limits on what my wife wears, where she goes, and what she does. Am I being clear? 

Mary listened to everything. She was well aware of the hateful antipathy Vonda had for Angela. Mary thought that she could become like a caring older sister, something like the way she had treated her own lost sibling, not exactly a guardian, more akin to a protector. Mary liked the idea. She would enjoy taking care of Angela. She looked at her employer. "Yes sir, I think I understand." With a polite curtsy Mary excused herself, and went back upstairs to see if Miss Angela was all right. 

Vonda had been a busy woman. Using the Internet she had ordered dozens of outfits for her sister. She supervised the workers as box after box of new things were unloaded, and taken upstairs. Angela was asleep in the bedroom she shared with Brandon. These boxes were headed to a different part of the house. Whereas Brandon and Angela slept together in a spacious second floor suite, further upstairs on the fourth floor there were other bedrooms. Some of them included the rooms where their mother had spent the last years of her life. While these rooms were large and comfortable they had been specially adapted to the needs of a seriously ill woman and for the needs of a family who, for their own sanity, wanted to insulate themselves from the terrifyingly tragic circumstances in which their mother found herself. 

Putting the unique characteristics of the fourth floor rooms out of her mind Vonda proceeded to show Mary, Dorothy, and Marge where she wanted all Angela's new clothes to be closeted. 

Vonda had put a lot of time and cerebral energy into Angela's new trousseau. Some of the outfits had been ordered for Angela's use should she become inclined to 'help out' around the house. Other things were designed for free time wear, and another set she'd bought for other perverse pleasures Vonda had in store for her unwitting brother's child bride. 

In the serving category Vonda had gone well beyond expectations. There were classic French maids dresses, skimpy and suggestive, just the kind of thing she was sure Angela would like if she chose them herself but would detest if chosen for her. Other serving outfits were a bit more modest, one might say at least outwardly more functional. Some of these service outfits were really feminine versions of regular work attire, from short bib overalls, and darker brown and gray toned blouses and pants for working in the kennels. There were a few very light bright pink, yellow, and white frilly and skirt ensembles to be worn in the kitchen, or if serving during the daylight hours. Regardless, all the clothing in this first array was actually more revealing and profoundly less useful for real work than anything any of the real servants wore. The outfits ranged from the scantily superfluous to those only worn by, for want of a better term, a drudge. Vonda couldn't help but smile to herself, for she was sure Angela would feel very uncomfortable in most of these things. 

Then she'd ordered a second genre of clothes that could only be described as infantile. These outfits conjured up images of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz or, with Angela's golden hair, an adult Goldie Locks. This second category of dresses, blouses, skirts, jumpers, and trousers was intended to be used when Angela was given free time around the house. Also included in this second set of clothes were items that inspired one to think of some first or second grade girl. There were short skirts, pleated frilly blouses, capped shoulders and short or three quarter sleeves, all highlighted by black and white patent leather shoes, lacy socks, knee high stockings, and the old stand by black and white pedal pushers with bobby socks. 

Vonda had also arranged for the purchase of a variety of useful toy and play sets that could be used when Angela was on free time. Barbie dolls, doll houses, little wagons, childrens' puzzle sets. All manner of childish things Vonda could buy or invent to humiliate her sister were to be put in place.

The third wardrobe was more mature, but not much more so, and included simple short dresses, and skirt and blouse outfits accompanied by pairs of very modest low cut shoes. These outfits were intended to conjure up a young or early adolescent girl in a school uniform. Jumpers, pinafores, dresses that zipped up the front but with a hard to unclasp zipper hook at the top would be the new style. Button up the back outfits with little locking hasps to insure no such dress could be taken off without the appropriate key, a key only Vonda or one of the maids would have. 

To be sure, nothing in Angela's new wardrobe would give anyone any doubt that this was someone who was being deliberately humiliated, or someone so infantile as to be considered at least mildly retarded. Vonda had one ambition. She intended to destroy her sister, destroy her sanity. When she was finished the fourth floor rooms, those little prisons where they'd kept their mother, would be Angela's permanent kingdom. 

Mary, Marge, and Dorothy didn't say anything. They busily unpacked, hung up, and folded away all the clothing. They all knew Vonda had the knife out for her sister, and while they understood Angela probably needed to be brought down a peg or two, the three of them had little doubt about Vonda's true intentions. 

For Marge and Dorothy the new clothes, new rooms, and new plans for Angela were secondary to their main jobs around the house, but Mary, she knew it would be her job to enforce the rules.

Mary wondered how she would be able to keep Angela in tow and guarantee she held on to her sanity. Mary was deeply affected by Angela. Mary's sun rose and set around her young mistress. She didn't want to do anything to hurt or embarrass her, but she enjoyed the idea of having her own little doll to dress up and care for. She also knew Vonda was really out for blood, and if she didn't follow through on what Vonda wanted they would only get somebody else. That could be anyone, and they could be ten times harder on Angela than anything she would do.

When Mary got to Angela's bedroom, she found her sound asleep. It looked like she was dreaming the sleep of angels. There she slept, Angela the angel, resting like an innocent little girl. She had no idea, but that her first tribulations would soon begin.

When morning came Brandon left for work as usual. He looked in on his still sleeping wife. He spoke briefly to Mary advising her he might be gone for several days. 

Vonda was up early as well. She had plans for the day, and privately vowed nothing was going to interfere with them.

Mary let Angela sleep as late as she could, but Vonda had already called twice on the intercom asking about her sister. Mary finally awakened Angela, but decided she could still keep Vonda at bay for at least one more day owing to Angela's sunburn. She called downstairs and advised everyone Angela was still feverish, and her burns and scrapes were still in need of some serious TLC. Since Vonda never called back, Mary assumed her message was accepted at face value.

For one entire day Mary got to keep Angela all to herself. They hung out in Brandon's and Angela's bedroom. They watched old television shows and old movies. Mary got to massage away the last of Angela's cuts and bruises. They snacked and gossiped like two teenagers. When it grew late Mary got Angela ready for bed. She laid out her toothbrush and bath creams. Mary helped Angela into a pair of short silk pajamas. She brushed her hair. The two of them lay together in the big bed. Mary rubbed, tickled and fondled her mistress, and much to Mary's delight Angela reciprocated. For every kiss Mary gave Angela she got at least a giggle or tentative kiss back. For Mary it was one of the most wonderful days of her life. She'd found love. It wasn't a man who had trapped her. It was a woman. She knew she had, at last, found happiness. Now if she could find a way to keep her all to herself. 

The last thing Mary did, after Angela had slipped off to Nod, was to call Marge and Dorothy. Mary knew Vonda planned a reckoning for the next day. Mary pulled a small syringe from her personal affects and injected Angela with a mild sleeping sedative. Once she was certain the drug had taken control she and the other two maids carried Angela upstairs to the fourth floor apartments that were to be Angela's new abode. 

Mary understood what Vonda had in mind. She wanted to compel Angela to leave her marital bed for the upstairs compartments while fully awake and in the full light of day. Vonda wanted to exhibit the power she had over her sister, and she wanted to do it in the cruelest possible manner. Mary knew Vonda fantasized about the humiliating scene that would involve. By moving Angela at night while still asleep Mary was acting out her first role as guardian and protector. 

The merciless sun rose early the next morning. A little after 10:00 a.m. Mary couldn't put off getting Angela out of bed. She poked her head in and called out. "Time to get up and going sleepy head."

The already alert Angela who was still oblivious of any of Vonda's plans answered. "I'm awake Mary. Could you come in and help me find something to wear?"

The moment of truth had arrived. Mary responded. "I'm on my way."

Angela was sitting on the bed when Mary walked in. Angela asked. "Where am I? This isn't my bedroom." 

Mary responded in a guarded manner. "Miss Vonda thought it might be better if you were to stay up on the fourth floor awhile."

Angela listened. Recognizing the pensive tone in Mary's voice she said. "What's up Mary? Does Brandon know about this?" 

Mary hesitated at first, but finally spoke. "I think Miss Vonda and Mr. Brandon are a little concerned about your emotional situation right now. I think they thought you'd be better off, if you were a little out of the way for a few days. I'm supposed to stay with you and take care of you." Right away Mary knew that was a poor choice of words.

Angela was growing suspicious and a little perturbed. "They did? Mary find something I can wear. I've got a bone or two to pick with my sister."

Mary was in a bind. The calendar Brandon had posted on her computer indicated that this was to be a 'free day' for Angela. Mary knew, no matter what outfit she pulled from the wardrobe, Angela would react angrily. She went over to the walk in closet, and made as if she were rummaging around trying to find something suitable. 

Angela was getting impatient. "Mary just get me the first thing you find. I'm going to skip the bath. I need to get downstairs and straighten this out." Angela went to the bathroom to rinse up a little and brush her teeth.

Mary took the opportunity to gather something for the morning. She pulled out a pale pink blouse, replete with peter-pan collar, short capped sleeves, trimmed in lace and held together with mother of pearl buttons. She chose a pale blue pleated jumper that would probably come down about mid-thigh. It was like one that she'd seen younger girls have on when they attended private school. Since there were no real bras Mary selected a soft white, sheer, partial cup item that had thin elastic straps, and delicate lace trim criss-crossing the front. The device would probably offer some modicum of support, but were Angela to become very active it would do nothing to hold her breasts in place. There were no real under pants, but there were several kinds of fluffy lace trimmed pairs of tap pants. Mary chose a pair that matched the would be bra in both texture and color. Last she secured a pair of white patent leather shoes, and concomitant stretch white stockings that she figured would reach just about to the knee. It was the best Mary could do. She laid everything out on the bed, and then stood back to await the hurricane.

Angela came out of the bathroom and sauntered over to the bed. She stopped. Stone cold. Angela turned to Mary with fire in her eyes. "What's this? You don't think I'm going downstairs with this stuff on? Get back in there and find something appropriate."

Mary answered. "Miss Angela, This is what everything in the closet looks like. There isn't anything in there that is any different."

Angela marched to the closet and went in. She was astounded. She walked up and down the closet aisles. Mary was right. Everything in there was designed for someone no older ten. This was what Vonda had in mind when she offered to pick out some of her clothes. This was Vonda!

Angela gritted her teeth and left the closet. "Mary, were you in on this?"

Mary clasped her hands together nervously. "Miss Angela. I saw them bring in the clothes just yesterday while you were asleep. I'm sorry. I wish I could be more help."

"There is Mary. You can help me get dressed. Then I want you to stay up here while I go downstairs." She stopped in mid sentence, then went on. "Mary, I'm going to need you. Can I count on you?"

Mary responded. "Mr. Brandon has a schedule he planned for you that I'm supposed to see you follow." She walked over close to her boss. "Honestly Miss Angela, I want to help."

Angela said nothing after that. Together they worked getting Angela into the childish outfit. The bra, such as it was, was too small, and her breasts spilled over the top When she walked they jiggled. Yesterday they jiggled, but that was by choice. This time it was somebody else that caused it. The shoes were tight and uncomfortable, and she was unaccustomed the slippery leather soles. They made it hard for her to maintain her balance. The jumper was too short, but fit comfortably otherwise. The stockings and shoes were tight and absolutely humiliating.

Mary looked at Angela with trepidation. "Miss Angela I have orders on how I'm supposed to fix your hair and make up."

Angela was full blown angry by then. "Well come on girl, and do your damnedest. Let's see what else my sister can do to me."

While Angela sat at the vanity Mary went to work. Using soft pink blush Mary rubbed it into Angela's face. The she took a darker shade of red and made two reddish circles on he cheeks. Something akin to what one would see on a doll. A tiny hint of the lightest blue eye shadow was added, and her lashes were extended by black mascara. Her lips were caressed by a faint hint of pale pink lip-gloss. Her lips looked clear, clean, and shiny. She affixed two small pearl earrings through Angela's pierced lobes. 

Angela's hair took a little more time. Using a curling iron Mary had to soften Angela's straight but thick hair. She pulled the thick rich long strands back and made a beautiful braid in the back. This braid she highlighted with a fairly large red bow that matched the color on her cheeks. The ends of the bow trailed off about three inches down the sides of the braid just touching her shoulders. Last she carefully took a pin and pulled a few strands of hair from the front, allowing them to fall discreetly around Angela's face. When Mary finished she leaned back and looked at her workmanship. She thought Angela looked like a ten or twelve year old girl. If a person didn't look too closely Angela could easily pass for a child.

Together the two women looked at Mary's creation in the mirror. 

Angela kept her feelings under tight rein, but she felt like her womanhood was being stolen from her. Thanks to Vonda's scheming, her own lack of foresight, and Mary's technical skill she had been reduced to the status of a child in her own home. 

Mary saw Angela in the mirror from a different perspective. Mary looked at Angela with a sense of possessive pride. Mary felt like she had completed a masterpiece. She thought Angela looked ravishing. Yes she looked like a child, but it was like she was her child, her woman child. Mary considered, if this was how things were going to transpire then her care and supervision of Angela was going to be a work of love. She only hoped Angela might learn to at least accept it if not like it.

Angela stood, looked at Mary and said. "Wait here, while I go downstairs." She walked toward the door.

At the last moment Mary spoke up. "Miss Angela, you can't leave yet."

Angela stopped. "And why not?"

"I have the key. Let me get the door for you."

Angela said nothing, but inside she was steaming. Not only was she to be dressed like a helpless child and curried to look like a child, but now she wouldn't even be allowed out of her bedroom without going through Mary, her servant.

Mary unlocked and opened the door. "I'll wait here Miss Angela. You call me if you need me." 

Angela went downstairs and started looking for her sister. The various servants saw her coming, and after a first look of surprise, they all pretended nothing was out of the ordinary. Angela sensed the reactions of the servants, but she could not with any clarity interpret what they were really thinking. If she had been able to, she would have wanted to fire every one of them on the spot. 

Angela paraded through the main chambers with her tightly fitting shiny white shoes going clickety clack on the hard wood floors. Every step was an adventure in staying upright. She heard Vonda's voice out on the porch by the swimming pool, and made a bee-line for the source. She found Vonda in the midst of some trivial discussion with Mr. and Mrs. McCardle, two older neighbors who lived in town. When Angela reached them the conversation stopped. All three looked up.

Mrs. McCardle took one look at Angela and burst out laughing. "Why Angela." She guffawed. "Are you dressed for a costume party, or have you finally decided to act your age?"

Angela was poised to rock Mrs. McCardle with a hefty line of expletives, but before she could say anything her sister spoke up. 

"Angela! My, don't you look charming." In mock sincerity she said. "We're glad you're up and about. We were worried about you." 

Mr. McCardle was speechless. His jaw dropped and hit the marble flooring. 

Angela involuntarily winced as the old man stared at her. It was like he was trying to strip away what little she was wearing. She never felt so naked and yet so foolishly clothed. She turned on Mrs. McCardle. "Who are you to talk to me in that tone? You're nobody around here. This is my house. This is all some sort of sick joke, and I don't need you're stupidity added to the mix."

Mrs. McCardle had no difficulty counter attacking. "Angela I'm so glad to see you. And you look positively radiant. It's just that you look so young and innocent. You look like your name, an angelic little girl. Come over closer so I can get better look at you.

There was little Angela could do regarding Mrs. McCardle's invitation, since she was headed right for Vonda anyway.

Angela glared at her sister. "Don't say anything. I know this was your idea, and I don't think any of this is very funny. I want my own clothes back. I want my own bedroom back, and I don't want Mary or any other servant carrying around the keys to my bedroom."

With a cool smile Vonda replied. "Angela, you are wearing your own clothes. Don't you remember that's one of the outfits you picked out from the catalogue yourself? And, you're in your bedroom. Now you'll have more privacy to do the things you've been talking about. Plus, you know Brandon and I agreed that you needed someone on the staff to help take care of you while you're in your present state."

"What do you mean, my present state, and what do you mean the things I've wanted to do?" Angela was stamping her foot impatiently.

Mrs. McCardle noted the childish demeanor of Vond'a's sister. "Aren't we the impatient little thing."

Vonda ignored Mrs. McCardle and answered her. "Angela." In a flowery voice. "Angela sweetheart. You haven't exactly been yourself lately. Yesterday you locked yourself in the dog kennel, and the day before you made a complete fool of yourself, and me, when in town." She started to dig in her claws. "Brandon and I are of the same mind. Your mental health or at least your level of intellectual and emotional equilibrium isn't all it could be. The two of us decided you needed a change of lifestyle. Last evening we talked to two of the neuro-surgeons who had evaluated you and they agreed. What you need is a quiet, restful environment, and an environment where you can do the many things you love in a completely unfettered way." 




Angela and Vonda Ch. 03



Angela was getting confused. She didn't remember any psychological evaluation. She didn't like Vonda's use of the word fettered. She remembered having taken some intelligence tests, and a series of physicals before her engagement, but she never had a psychological. "I don't know what you're talking about. I never had any psychological evaluations, and I don't recall talking about doing any particular things."

Her sister was enjoying the discourse" "Yes you did, and quite honestly Angela dear, the results were disturbing. I warned Brandon about getting involved considering your state of mind. I told him there should be a period of observation. He said he didn't care. He said that if you're emotional state went awry, that we would just have you committed. He wanted to marry you and care for you. Brandon really loves you."

This was stunning news to Angela. "I'm not sick. My mind is fine. You're just trying to scare me. This is just some sick joke you're pulling. Hell, I knew you didn't approve of me."

Vonda gave Angela a perverse smile. "Angela darling, you're a sick little girl, and we're going to take care of you. That's why we have Marge, Dorothy, and Mary all on staff. Each one of them is trained in working with the mentally unstable."

Angela shouted. "You're lying! You're lying! You're a nasty liar!" She angrily shook her fists at her sister.

It was then that Mary appeared from upstairs.

Angela saw Mary, and believed she was the one person around here she could still trust. "Mary do you know what these people are talking about? Are you in on this?"

Mary answered. "I was hired to help take care of you. The doctors who knew me and had worked with me told me that they had a patient whose health was frail. They said there was a woman who could behave quite normally, but then, sometimes for no reason, she would collapse. I was told she had certain hobbies." She hesitated. She didn't want to open that door. "I was told to be on hand to help you, and be available if the need arose. That's all I can say Miss Angela." 

Everything she said was true, but everything she said hid ten other things she could have said. There were things she should have said that would have helped Angela, but if she said them she might lose her position in the house. 

Angela was really upset. Something horrible was happening and she wasn't in a position to say exactly what it was. "Mary, if you've been watching me, then you must know there's nothing wrong with me." Perplexed she added. "Tell me what are these hobbies everyone keeps talking about? "

"Miss Angela we have a whole room set up where you can tie yourself up, or chain yourself up. We even put in a small metal cage where you can incarcerate yourself if you want to. Why, Miss Vonda even bought a wagon so we can pull you around the house and in the yard when you want to stay in a cage. Miss Vonda bought out the store when she discovered you liked to play with Barbies. We've got every Barbie made in the last five years, and we have matching outfits that you can wear." There was more she should have said. She should have said she knew there wasn't anything wrong with her mistress. She should have told the McCardles Miss Vonda was the crazy one. She didn't say any of those things. 

Angela had heard enough. She had to escape. She had to get out before she really did go nuts. She screamed and ran from the room. "You're not going to do this to me! Vonda! I won't let you!"

Mrs. McCardle spoke to no one in particular. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. 

Vonda looked at the older woman with sad, but knowing, eyes.

The old woman added. "You and Brandon have a grave responsibility here. I don't envy you."

Vonda listened with phony respect. She answered Mrs. McCardle with equally false sincerity. "Thank you Mrs. McCardle. You see how it is. When you go out around the town please keep it a secret." She knew Mrs. McCardle was the biggest gossip in six states. Everything she thought she saw and heard would be part of the public domain by lunch tomorrow. Mrs. McCardle's wagging tongue would seal Angela's fate even if she did escape. 

Angela ran upstairs as fast as her unstable feet could carry her. The tight white shoes with their slippery leather heels were a serious handicap. She reached what had been her and Brandon's bedroom, the one they'd been sleeping in, and tried to open the door. It was locked. She pulled and tugged at the doorknob. It wouldn't budge! She had to escape. 

She ran upstairs to the room she had been in earlier. On the way she fell awkwardly on the steps. She felt the silly tap pants tear at the crotch. When she tried the fourth floor door it opened. She went in and rushed for the closet. She'd looked there before, but she'd look again. There had to be something she could wear! There had to be some keys! She had to find her purse! Where had she left her car keys? Where were her identity papers, her driver's license, and her passport? Nothing was there! Everything had disappeared! Someone, and she knew who, had literally stripped her of her identity! 

Angela ran back to the door. She could simply run. She was a healthy person. She would run away. The town was distant. With luck she'd get there and get help. She threw off the ridiculous shoes and headed toward the door. She'd get out of the room back to hall, and out of the house. 

When she reached the bedroom door she found it was closed. She went to turn the doorknob. There wasn't any doorknob, only the metal-plate for the components, a keyhole for a key, and a cap covering the place where the doorknob should be. She tried to wedge her fingernails between the edge of the door and the frame. Perhaps she could pull the door open. No luck! She pushed against the door. Maybe it opened outward. She could tell right away that the door was locked. Wait she thought! There was a window toward the back of the room. She ran toward the window, retrieving her shoes on the way. She'd pull open the drapes, open the window and climb out that way. If the window was locked shut then she would break it with a shoe. She reached the window! She opened the drapes. The window was locked shut, but it didn't matter. Just on the other side of her last escape route she saw they'd installed decorative latticework. It was clearly wrought iron, and though it wasn't a set of iron bars, it served exactly the same purpose. 

Angela panicked. She ran back to the door! She tried to force it open with her fingers again It wouldn't budge! She tried to pull out the hinge bolts. No luck! She leaned down and tried lifting the massive door, as though she could will up and out. She screamed and started beating on the door with her hands. She clawed at the inside wood with her fingernails. She had to get out! She had to escape! She was crying. She knew it now. She was trapped! She was a prisoner in her own house, a prisoner in this tiny room. Her room, this room, it had become her cage. Slowly she slid to the floor gasping and crying. She held her hands tightly in front her chest. She cried. "No! No! No! Oh somebody. Somebody please. I'm afraid. Let me out. Let me out"



Angela and Vonda Ch. 04



Poor Angela, upstairs, locked in her new bedroom, alone, trapped, the captive of her vindictive sister. Vonda had warned her brother about Angela's lack of maturity, her potential for erratic behavior. Brandon had ignored her warnings. Now it was time to prove that his new wife was as insane as she'd warned. For Vonda, the ability to prove Angela's instability was going to be easy. With Brandon away so much, and leaving Vonda in charge, she could engineer activities, some might consider cruelties, which would undermine and ultimately unravel her childish sister-in-law's frail personality.

Vonda had looked through Angela's personal materials and found a virtual treasure of useful devices. For one, Angela had purchased some bondage toys. Vonda recognized the content at once to be harmless costume jewelry, easily removed. However, Vonda bet Angela hadn't noticed that one or two modest modifications immediately converted innocent jewelry into real items of the most restrictive character. Now that these toy shackles had fallen into Vonda's hands, she had seen to their conversion.

Angela also had several dresses and play sets intended to arouse Brandon's fetish for younger girls. Vonda modified and expanded Angela's simple wardrobe into an array of the most perverted and infantile types of clothes. Yes. Angela's life was about to become something of a nightmare. 

Vonda called Mary into the living room. Mary was one of three women hired as maids. In truth all three also had degrees related to mental disorders. The most sincere of the three was Mary. The other two, Marge and Dorothy, had serious mean streaks. Vonda wanted to exploit Mary's knowledge and her latent lesbianism, her personal desires for control, and her empathetic nature to further Angela's destruction, "Mary I want you to see to your ward's care this evening."

"My ward?"

"Yes Mary. From now on we'll refer to Angela as your ward. You'll be responsible for every aspect of her daily activities, from her attire to her behavior. From now on I'm holding you responsible for everything that happens. If she slips up it will be your fault, and you'll have to mete out the punishments I assign."

Mary was ambivalent about her new instructions. Brandon, Vonda's brother and Angela's self centered husband, had told her much the same thing, but in a milder fashion. She understood Angela was in her hands. She was secretly pleased with her new responsibilities. She didn't just like Angela, she loved her. She also understood there was a dominant, even cruel, side to her own personality. She'd enjoy taking care of Angela, dressing her up, feeding her, providing for her, seeing that she was entertained, guaranteeing she properly represented herself in the presence of others. 

She also knew she'd derive a certain kind of perverse pleasure at being the one to administer any punishment. It was with a modicum of guilt she understood she could willfully place Angela in positions that would require chastisement, yet all the while pretending to Angela every punishment was at Vonda's command.

Vonda continued her instructions for Mary, "Later today you are to go upstairs and prepare your ward for the evening. She's to write a letter of apology, sign it, and memorize it. When I call her downstairs later for supper she'll be expected to recite said apology to me and my guests. Then perhaps you'll administer her first round of corporal punishment."

Mary listened wondering what kind of corporal punishment Vonda had in mind. "Yes ma'am."

Vonda wasn't finished, "I want you to go into the kitchen. Prepare a bowl of oatmeal for Angela. Take it upstairs and feed it to her. She isn't to touch the bowl or the spoon. That will be your job. See that she's cleaned up, dressed, and writes her apology. Stay with her the rest of the afternoon until I send someone up. She is to sit quietly and read portions of scripture. I have several sections itemized here she should read."

Mary took the paper with the list of Biblical topics.

Vonda looked at Mary, "She'll be quizzed on the content of these pieces. If she gets anything wrong she'll be punished. See that she understands that."

"Yes Miss Vonda." Mary took the scripture readings and left for the kitchen.

A few minutes later Mary was at Angela's door. Mary had a key and could have gone straight in. She preferred to wait for Angela, "Angela. It's Mary. I have something for you to eat, and some instructions from Vonda. Would you please open the door?"

Angela heard her erstwhile maid now jailer. She opened the door.

Mary came in and placed the oatmeal on the nearest table, "Angela I'm supposed to feed you, and get you ready for this evening."

"Feed me?"

"You're not allowed to touch any food implements. I also have some things you're supposed to read and be able to discuss this evening. I've been told you have to write a letter of apology to the McCardles. You'll have to write it and then recite it later tonight. I'm also afraid you'll have to be punished tonight as well."

Angela listened with increasing disbelief, "Just wait till Brandon hears of this."

"Brandon won't be home for several days. I'm afraid you'll be at the mercy of your sister till then."

Angela was tense and nervous, "Tell me Mary. What do you think I should do?"

Mary answered, "I think you should do everything Vonda wants. Mr. Brandon will be back eventually. He'll see what's going on. He'll straighten things out. But I'm afraid if you defy Vonda she'll paint a really bad picture, and everyone knows how he trusts everything she says."

"You're right Mary." She looked suspiciously at the bowl of mystery food, "Well let's get this eating over with so I can write my letter and read my Bible."

Mary walked over and sat beside Angela. Taking the large spoon that came with the oatmeal she scooped up a serving. Angela leaned forward and allowed Mary to put it in her mouth. 

"God, What is that crap?"

"It's oatmeal Miss Angela. Then Mary corrected herself. "I mean Angela. I'm sorry, but if I use any formal title you'll be punished."

Angela listened and pretended to be sympathetic, "Come on let's get this eaten."

For the next few minutes Mary scooped oatmeal out of the bowl and put it in front of Angela who dutifully took in and swallowed every morsel. It was totally tasteless, no sugar, milk or anything to offset the sticky bland substance. Then Angela wrote the dreadful apology, and for the next hour read over the parts of the Bible Vonda had indicated.

Near 4:00 Mary decided it was time to get Angela ready for her next excursion downstairs. The outfit Vonda had noted on the scrap of paper with the scripture readings was available in the closet. Mary went to obtain it.

First Mary had to prepare Angela's hair and make up. Her hair was tied back in two pig tails. Since the dress was yellow her hair was tied off in yellow bows. She was to cut the front of Angela's hair into childish bangs. This she did while Angela sat silently. After wiping off the morning's make up Mary went about decorating her face. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, more pink blush, extra pink for the cheeks, a little eye liner, pink lipstick highlighted with a clear gloss. Excepting for the foolishness of the hair she looked very pretty.

Then came the dress. No bra was provided, but a tight fitting training bra device was put on. It fit over her breasts and around her shoulders and back. It was a very snug fit, and pressed her breasts tightly against her chest, minimizing her natural womanliness. Over the training bra went an equally tight chemise that served to further reduce Angela's natural curves. Next Mary produced a pair of panties. They were white, ruffled, and came to the bottom of her ass cheeks. Each leg had a small yellow bow on the outer portion, and the ruffs around her ass were accentuated by another yellow bow at precisely where the cleft of her well rounded ass began. The panties, the ruffs, and the bow served to emphasize her posterior, much like a bustle might have done in Victorian times. 

Over all this went the dress. Though the dress had to be dropped over her shoulders, there was a series of white buttons that extended down the front giving it the appearance of being buttoned up. Once down around her shoulders Angela fit her arms through the sleeves while Mary buttoned up the several buttons at the top of the back. The last button at the top, near the collar was actually a hasp that once affixed couldn't be undone without a small key. 

It was a pale yellow short sleeved little dress. It had a tightly fitting, though, broad, peter-pan collar and puffy capped sleeves. Both the collar and the sleeves were liberally trimmed in white lacy ruffles. The hem of the dress came to just below the panties. If Angela were to move, sit, bend, or twist the panties would immediately become visible. 

Angela was asked to sit while Mary pulled her stocking up her legs. The stocking were white and translucent and came to just below the panties. The top insides of the stockings were treated with a paste intended to hold them in place. Last Mary helped her with her shoes. Like the shoes earlier in the day, these were tight fitting patent leather Mary Janes. They, like earlier in the day, had a smooth slippery soul that would certainly make walking without slipping a risky affair. 

At the behest of Vonda at the appropriate time Mary escorted her ward downstairs for dinner. Mary was supposed to hold her hand like she was a child. Several people were in attendance, both for the food, and the anticipated humiliation of Vonda's sister.

Mary brought Angela downstairs a short while before dinnertime. Angela had her duties to perform, and Mary wanted her to get them over as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

Mary was dressed for the occasion. Being a maid she had on a black silken dress that came to just above the knees. It was long sleeved with both crisply starched cuffs and rigidly stiff peter-pan collar. She was wearing black lace up shoes, and matching black nylons. The dress she normally wore zipped up the back, but tonight she had one that buttoned up the front. Her make up was plain. Her hair was in a tight bun almost exactly replicating something a much older woman might wear. She had on an apron that tied off in the back in an attractive bow. It was a waist type apron not a pinafore.

When they got downstairs all the guests had more or less assembled in the living room. First there was Vonda, queen of the evening. The McCardles were present; the woman looking for an apology, the old man interested in what Angela would wear and how she would behave. He also hoped to see a spanking. 

There was another couple on hand this evening. A younger couple, just Angela's and Brandon's age who had recently moved into the community. Angela had met the young woman and had gotten on well with her. She had hoped they'd become friends. As soon as Angela saw her she knew that friendship was dead on arrival. Vonda had taken her over. 

As the two women came in Vonda made some opening remarks, "Well. I see our youngest resident has finally arrived. Angela I believe you know everyone."

Angela listened to her sister with dread. It was going to be a long evening, "Yes we've met."

Vonda was immediately on top of things. "Yes what little miss?"

Angela caught the inference. Vonda was looking for any opportunity to further humiliate her. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction, "Yes Miss Vonda." Angela turned to the young couple. She didn't remember their names so she improvised. Before addressing them she took the hem of her dress in her hands and made a little curtsy, "Good evening sir. Good evening ma'am."

"Angela don't you have anything to say to the McCardles?"

Angela steeled herself, and curtsied again, "Good evening Mr. and Mrs. McCardle. Before I do or say anything else I want to offer an apology for my crude and childish behavior earlier today. I'm a poor example for others. I'm just so sorry. I'll try to be more considerate in the future."

Mrs. McCardle was satisfied, "That's all right girl. You're just young and too full of childish exuberance. You'll grow out of it, and I'm sure Vonda here will be ever ready to provide the necessary guidance."

Angela was mortified by the reference the older woman made calling her young and childish, "Yes. Thank you Mrs. McCardle for accepting my apology, and yes I know my sister will always be there to help me."

Vonda was beaming. The little snip was behaving just as she should, "Tell us Angela what did you read today."

"I was given lessons from the Bible Miss Vonda. I read about Ruth and Naomi."

"What did you learn from your lessons dear?"

"I learned about the importance of being loyal to those who love you. Ruth was a wonderful young woman, and her story is a great example of what being a good role model is about."

"What a good rendition. I'll keep that in mind myself." Vonda shifted gears, "Did you have any misgivings about the story?"

Angela was ready, "I was disturbed that Naomi and Ruth conspired to get Boaz to accept them into his household, but the story was so sweet I put my misgivings aside." 

Vonda gave her a maternal smile, "That's wonderful. We'll have another Bible story for you soon. Meanwhile I think it's time for supper."

All the guests got up to go into the dining room. Angela followed, with Mary holding her hand. When they reached the dining room table people took the seat they wanted with one exception. Near the center of the table across from Vonda was one chair distinguishable from all the rest. It sat a little lower, and it lacked a back. Not precisely a stool, but certainly not a regular chair. It was white, and it had Angela written on it. 

Angela took her chair and was immediately reprimanded, "Angela! Wait for the others to be seated!"

Angela jumped back up, "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Well indeed you should be! That was childish and rude! Just for that you'll be served last."

While all the others sat and started to fill their plates Angela had to stand back and wait. At last Vonda invited her to sit. Since everyone else had already passed the food around Angela was left with an empty plate. She politely asked the younger man if he would pass the meats, but Vonda scowled and told her to wait.

Angela asked again if she might have something to eat, but Vonda scolded her again. Then Vonda gave her some sharp instruction, "Angela put your hands in your lap!"

Angela moved her hands.

"That's right. Just let your fingers touch and keep your palms down. Remain that way until Mary brings you your food."

Shortly Mary appeared with a dinner dish. On the dish was a bowl of oatmeal, the same tasteless stuff she'd eaten for lunch. There said Vonda, "Mary will see to your appetite." 

For the next few minutes, while everyone else ate and talked Mary stood beside Angela spoon feeding her the oatmeal. Angela was humiliated. She was not only not allowed to feed herself she was compelled to sit in a child's chair with her hands in her lap while her maid fed her. Once she attempted to join the conversation, but Vonda shook a finger and warned she must remain silent and just listen. It wasn't appropriate for her to engage in adult conversation.

Angela silently screamed. I'm an adult. I'm as mature and as intelligent and as well read as anyone at the table. She kept quiet though. She wanted to avoid a scene. 

After dinner everyone retired to Brandon's study for drinks and renewed conversation. Entering the study it was obvious they were one chair short, "Angela come over here, sit beside me."

Angela dutifully went over and sat on the floor beside her sister. 

"Tell me Angela." Vonda began, "Have you made any plans for tomorrow?"

"No. I thought I might do some more reading. Maybe I'll drive into town and do some shopping."

Vonda sat back, "Shopping is out of the question. You have everything you need right here. Think about all those pretty dresses and outfits I bought for you."

Angela started to reply, "I thought maybe I'd pick up something for Brandon."

"Nonsense, you're not to drive. You'll stay at home and play with your Barbies."

Barbies? I don't have any Barbies. Not since I was twelve."

"Don't be silly. Mary insisted we got you new Barbie toys. You'll play with your Barbies tomorrow." Vonda turned to the young couple, "Angela has her hobbies."

Angela was struck dumb. She knew she better keep her mouth shut in front of these people for fear Vonda would play it to her disadvantage, but she couldn't let this slide. She looked at the younger couple, "This isn't true. It's just a sick joke."

Vonda didn't give Angela a chance to continue her appeal. She slapped her viciously across the cheek. Turning to Mary, "Angela is overwrought. Take her back upstairs and stay with her till I call you."

Mary walked over, "Angela?"

Angela didn't want to drag things out any further. She had to get upstairs and think this out. Holding one hand to her burning cheek she told herself to play it safe till Brandon got home. She followed Mary up the stairs.

Meanwhile Vonda gave the impression she was greatly relieved, "I can never tell with that girl what she might say or do next."

All the guests gave her sympathetic looks. Mr. McCardle was especially upset. He'd hoped to see a spanking.

Back upstairs Mary helped Angela get undressed and cleaned up. All the make up came off, the clothes, and the hair ribbons, "Angela I'm so glad you didn't fight with your sister down there."

"What else was there to do Mary? If I continued to defy her she'd play it like I was throwing a fit."

Mary took Angela's hand, "Help me please. You're supposed to call me Miss Mary. I'm afraid if you don't Vonda will have you punished, and according to her I'm supposed to mete out whatever she says."

Angela was pissed, pissed at Vonda, pissed at herself, and pissed at Mary but she held her temper, "Your right. From now on it's Miss Mary even when we're alone."

Mary thanked her, and explained she was to return to see Vonda.

Downstairs Mary received more instruction from her mistress. "For the next several days Angela is to stay in her room. She is to see no one except you. See that she watches no television, listens to no radio, and has no access to any books, magazines, or literature of any kind. You are to manage her every waking moment, see that you clothe, feed, clean, and assist with her attire and her biological needs. Remember Mary she is in your care. I want her to grow to depend on you for everything. Do you fully understand?"

"Yes Miss Vonda."

"Then I suggest you begin to see to your responsibilities immediately."

Mary nodded and returned to the third floor.

Upstairs Mary unlocked the door and went in, "Angela I'm back."

"What are you going to do to me now?"

"Oh please Angela don't talk like that. I'm only doing what I'm told. I don't want to hurt you, and I promise I won't, but we have to keep Miss Vonda happy, or she'll send up Dorothy and Marge. They don't feel about you like I do."

Angela knew that was true, but she still didn't have to like it, "OK so what are we doing?"

"Let me get you ready for bed. I'll get ready too, and then we can talk."

Angela answered, "All right."

Mary smiled and sighed, "Come on lets get cleaned up. She walked Angela to the bathroom and helped her in the shower. While Angela stood under the soft waterfall Mary washed and wiped her from top to bottom. She used a soft shampoo and cleaned her hair, drying it with a fluffy towel. 

Mary went to the closet and pulled out a lavender two piece nightgown. It was beautiful and feminine, though certainly childish. 

The top buttoned up to a tight neckline which had a collar with dozens of tiny silken pleats emanating out about three inches. She tied a pretty lavender bow to the back at the neckline. It had short capped sleeves that also were fringed with tiny silk pleats. Each sleeve also had its identifying little bow. 




Angela and Vonda Ch. 04



Down both sides of the front button line was a tiny ruffle. With her underthings off the blouse was translucent. Mary could easily see Angela's beautiful 34B breasts and her perky nipples as they protruded outward slightly. Her aureoles were visible through the soft thin fabric. She wanted to touch them, caress them. 

The bottom was made of the same thin translucent fabric. The waist came exactly even with the blouse giving a hint of Angela's flesh between the panties and the top. The panties were held on with two tiny buttons. A series of other tiny buttons held the piece together down the front. Like the top the front of the panties was fringed in ruffles. The legs came to mid-thigh and were decorated at the hem with the same pleated fringe, a gentle bow tied off each leg on the outside. 

Thus composed Mary walked her to the bed, pulled down the sheets, and helped her to the side of the bed, "Wait here while I get changed." Mary slipped into the bathroom, washed off, and put on a simple white cotton shift. She came back and sat beside Angela on the bed, "Maybe we could lie down side by side and talk?"

"I'd like that. God knows I need a friend."

The two women lay together talking and whispering for several hours. Each shared intimate details of their lives prior to coming to Brandon's and Vonda's. Mary re-explained her childhood and the sadness and the suffering of the loss of her sibling. Angela did her best to explain how she came to be with Brandon, but without any information about her father. 

The whole time the two women were together Mary carefully and gently rubbed Angela. She wanted to kiss her and fondle her in her private places, but decided not to be too forward. She knew she had time.

Angela, though a prisoner, enjoyed the attention. Mary's soft hands felt good. Together they went to sleep.

The following morning Mary helped Angela slip into a pretty white blouse, pale blue mini-skirt, and black and white patent leather high heeled shoes with ankle sized white socks. Mary left Angela to roam her bedroom while she went downstairs to get the two of them breakfast. 

When she reached the kitchen she found a note from Vonda. She had left additional instructions. Vonda had placed a pair of handcuffs in an envelope. Angela was to have her hands cuffed behind her back during the day. She was free to roam about her bedroom, but not to be allowed to lie down. Mary was only to stay for thirty minutes in the morning for breakfast and getting dressed, another thirty minutes at noon for lunch, and another thirty minutes at supper time. All the rest of the day Angela was to be left alone. Mary may see to her at bed time, temporarily unlock the cuffs, and stay with her until midnight, but at midnight she was to re-cuff her and leave.

Mary read the instructions with a mild sensation of stifled pleasure. Angela would be alone most of the day. She'd be incapable of doing much more than wandering from corner to corner. She would be more dependent on her than ever before. It would give her added opportunities to cuddle and fondle, as Vonda said, her ward.

When Mary returned she brought breakfast only for one, "I have your morning meal Angela. I'm sorry it looks like more oatmeal." 

Angela sat down on the side of the bed.

"Sorry darling." Mary tried a new endearment, "You have to eat kneeling on the floor, and I have to handcuff your hands behind your back."

Angela look up in disbelief, "You what!"

"Vonda's orders, from now on your to be handcuffed during the day. I'm only allowed up at meal times and bedtime. The rest of the day you're free to do what you want as long as you stay in your bedroom, and as long as your hands are locked behind your back." She gave Angela a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry. Those are my orders." Getting out the cuffs she added, "So turn around please." 

Angela got off the bed turned around, put her hands behind her back, and waited.

Mary opened the manacles and clicked each one shut, "There. Kneel down now please"

While Angela knelt on the floor beside the bed Mary knelt in front and spoon fed her the porridge. Occasionally a morsel of mush slipped from Angela's cheeks. Mary dutifully took a napkin and wiped away the tiny droplets. Mary added, "Let's go in the bathroom so I can wipe you off properly."

The two went to the bathroom, and while Angela knelt on the floor in front of the toilet Mary sat on the seat and wiped away all the residual mess. She took a soapy cloth and washed Angela's face and her neck. She liked the positions they were in, Angela kneeling on the floor at her feet, and she on the seat looking down. It gave her a feeling of confidence and power. Before she let Angela up she cupped her face in her two hands and kissed her on the lips, "I love you Angela. Don't worry I'll take care of you. When Brandon gets home, you'll see everything will get straightened out." As they stood up Mary allowed her hands to briefly wander over Angela's breasts.

Angela resented the kiss and the pawing but was hardly in a position to resist. Mary was her only connection with anything outside her bedroom. If pretending to like kissing her and allowing a little furtive groping kept Mary on her side then that's what she'd do. Besides she did like Mary, just not that way. She believed Mary did love her and would help her. She trusted her, "I'm counting on you. You're all I've got."

Mary kissed her again, "I'll be back at lunchtime."

Angela got off the floor and walked around her bedroom. This was another new room, not even the one she was in yesterday. This one was smaller. She wondered how they managed to change her room without her knowing. Had she been drugged? If she had, she wondered how long she'd been out. 

The room wasn't much, just a bed, a bureau, an end table and a chair. The windows were single paneled insets well over six feet above the floor. They were barred. Without using the chair or the end table there was no way she could see what was outside. They were covered with embroidered curtains and lace. She thought she might try pulling the chair over, but it would be impossible, with her hands locked behind her, to get the curtain out of the way. She could tell whether it was sunny, cloudy, day or night, beyond that they were useless.

She went back to the bathroom. There were toothbrushes, but well away from the edge of the sink. To get one she'd need help. The toilet was small, and there was plenty of toilet paper. Thank god for small pleasures. If she needed to use the toilet she'd have difficulty, but it wouldn't be impossible. She thought she'd try to go, if only to check how difficult it would be.

She maneuvered her hands to get to the buttons holding the pants on. Shit! The buttons were in the front. No matter how much she wriggled or squirmed she couldn't reach them. She tried pulling the panties down without undoing them. No go, the waistband was just too damn tight. Crap. She couldn't get the damn pants off. If she had to go, if she really had to go, she'd either have to hold it or make a mess. That ruled out any extra drinks of water.

Hell. She couldn't satisfy her thirst if she wanted to. There weren't any glasses, and the spigot was turned on by pressing a button. In order to run the water she'd have to lean over backwards and press the button, but how was she get a drink leaned over, and there wasn't any damn sink stopper. Shit out of luck again.

Face it she told herself. The bathroom was a big mirage. It looked like it had some function, but didn't.

Angela paced the room all morning, waiting, waiting for Mary's return. What the hell else was there to do?

At noon, or at least she thought it was noon Mary returned. She had a glass of water and another bowl of porridge. 

Angela was angry and upset, "This whole thing with the handcuffs is just senseless cruelty. There's no reason for this."

Mary had been talking to Vonda just moments before about that very thing, "I talked to Miss Vonda about the handcuffs and she said she wanted to punish you for the back sass but she didn't want to do something in front of others. I know it sounds unfair, but I think Miss Vonda is right. If you must be punished let it be in private. Yes you're up here and unable to move about as freely as you want, but you're being spared the embarrassment of a public spanking."

"I don't know Mary. What could be worse? A quick spanking in front of some old people, or the tedium of prolonged confinement with shackled hands."

Mary went over and put her arms around her ward. She was increasingly seeing Angela as her dependent and less as one of her employers, "I don't know. I think we'll just have to trust Vonda on this one." She rubbed the back of her fingers down her cheek and kissed her.

Angela accepted the kiss without protest. Perhaps it was because she sensed a subtle shift in Mary's perspective. She found it disquieting.

Lunch went the same way as breakfast, Angela kneeling on the floor beside the bed, Mary kneeling in front spoon feeding her. After eating Mary took her arm and walked her to the bathroom. This time she had to go. She sat on the toilet and performed her oblations while Mary stood patiently beside her. When finished Mary wiped her and pulled her panties back up. Mary helped her to her feet, and again kissed her. Again Mary reminded her she was loved. This time Angela didn't feel quite as put off.

Dinner time came and went, and bed time arrived. Mary undressed her, cleaned her, put her in a pair of lavender colored pajamas, helped her to bed, kissed her good night and got ready to leave. This time before leaving Mary undid the handcuffs allowing her hands some freedom, but the illusion of freedom was temporary. Mary had to re-cuff her hands in front, and then attach the cuffs to a short length of chain that dangled from the bed board. Angela was put to bed but unable to move much beyond a few inches from the top of the bed.

Mary took every opportunity to discreetly touch Angela in one private place or another. She loved touching her vagina and fondling her soft breasts. She gently allowed her fingers to trace up and down the soft cleft between her labial lips. Angela put up no resistance. What Mary was doing felt good. It was arousing. Besides she couldn't have resisted if she wanted to. 

Fortunately, though there was no accounting for it considering her lack of activity, once Mary got her settled Angela fell almost immediately to sleep.

The next morning Mary was back with the porridge. A new outfit was chosen, and she was fed, wiped off, re-cuffed and left to her own devices. Lunch came and went, followed by dinner and again bed time. 

A pattern had been established. Always the same activity, always the same food, always the same restrictions, and always Mary, kissing her, touching her, and testifying her love. Angela lost track of the days. Had it been three days, four days, ten days? She couldn't remember. She found Mary's soft caresses and tender fondling increasingly disturbing. She was in an almost continual state of sexual distraction. Once or twice she asked Mary to continue, hoping for some release. Mary always demurred and stopped. Angela sometimes wondered if Mary wasn't deliberately using her caresses as a form of torture.

Vonda called Mary into her bedroom, "Mary you know how fond I am of you."

"Yes ma'am."

"I need your loyalty. Can I count on you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Brandon will be coming home tomorrow. He'll only be here for a day or two. Of course he'll want to see his wife. I'm convinced his presence might be too upsetting for her. Don't you agree?"

"Yes ma'am."

"That's all Mary. I knew you'd see things my way." 

When Brandon got home he planned on seeing his wife right away. He missed her, "Vonda how's Angela been?"

Vonda and Mary were both in the room. It was Vonda who took the lead, "Oh Brandon I'm afraid she's taken a turn for the worse. Mary and I have been doing everything we can think of to keep her calm. But she's out of control. I'm really worried about her."

"Maybe if I saw her she'd feel better."

"I don't know Brandon. Mary and I have been very worried. I afraid your presence might only further upset her."

"Mary you're a licensed psychologist. Is what Vonda saying right?"

She lied, "Angela has been experiencing a great deal of stress. It's a function of some vitamin deficiency I'm afraid. I know you love her and want to see her, but I'm reluctant to disagree with Vonda. Angela is very ill."

"That's too bad. I wanted to see her. If I can't then I don't see any need for me to stay any longer. Business is business. Mary let Angela know how much I miss her." He was gone the next morning. 

After who knew how many days Mary told her Brandon had come and gone. Angela had no way of knowing Vonda and Mary had talked him out of seeing her. The news was distressing. Again there was a litany days, all following the same routine. Angela had begun to despair ever getting out of her little prison.

After another week of her gilded incarceration Mary came in with wonderful news. Vonda wanted to see her downstairs. There were several things she wanted to do, and was sure Angela would be only too happy to join in. Mary took her hand and walked her downstairs,

Vonda was sitting in a big soft chair in Brandon's study, "Come over here sweetheart." She pointed to the floor.

Angela was just glad to be out of that awful little room. She'd sit any where do almost anything if it meant a little more freedom, "Yes Miss Vonda."

Vonda gave her one of her phony little half smiles, "That's a good girl." As Angela took her seat on the floor Vonda started talking, "I want you to know we've hired all new staff since you've been sick. Those old mean people who hurt you have all been replaced. None of the people we have now know you or know any more than absolutely necessary. So I don't want you getting involved with them." She gently squeezed her chin between her index finger and thumb. "Don't talk to them or try to share anything with them. They've all got their orders. They're all supposed to report back to me or to Miss Mary if anything looks or sounds out of the ordinary." The entire time she was talking Vonda used her fingers to gently rub Angela's cheeks and the back of her neck.

Angela, squirming a little, answered, "Yes ma'am."

What Vonda didn't tell her was that none of the new servants knew Brandon had a wife. For all the new servants knew the woman upstairs could be anybody, "Good girl. Now Mary is going to take you back upstairs, get you all dressed up, and the three of us are going out to lunch. It will be a test of sorts, to see how well behaved you can be."

"Yes ma'am." Angela could barely hold her glee. She was going to get to go out, see other people.

Mary held out her hand, helped Angela back to her feet, and together they went back to get dressed. Mary was wearing her traditional black maid's uniform; longed sleeved dress, starched white cuffs, starched white peter-pan collar, stiff white apron, tiny ruffled cap, white nylons and black lace up high heeled shoes. 

In the bedroom, while Angela showered, Mary laid out her attire; a pink cotton mini-dress, with a just under the bodice tightly constricting waist, white short sleeve capped ruffled cuffs, and a delightfully pretty little white ruffled peter-pan collar. The dress zipped up the back, but at the top at the back of the collar were two broad ribbons to be tied off in a cute white bow. The hem reached to just above mid-thigh, and was liberally accentuated with dozens of tiny pleats. The dress swished and swirled when she walked. 

The garment was accented by white knee high nylons and high heeled black patent leather shoes. Undergarments included a loosely fitting minimally supportive bra and ruffled panties. If Angela were at all active the lightness of the dress material and the shortness of the hem would readily reveal her sassy little panties. 

Vonda had purchased jewelry for the outing. For her left wrist Vonda had procured a cute little diamond encrusted gold watch, and for her right wrist a beautiful charm bracelet. She'd also purchased an attractive little necklace. The chain was of the thinnest most intricate gold, and hooked to the chain was a deliciously pretty little heart. 

But before Angela could be dressed she had to be prepared in other ways. Mary took great lengths to give Angela a thorough vaginal depilatory. Her arms, legs, and underarms were all also completely denuded of any hair. 

She thoroughly rubbed Angela down with a new wash that served to make her skin more sensitive and caused it to give off a slight pinkish glow. Fingernails and toenails were trimmed back, buffed, and treated to a clear glossy polish.

Her make up included a pale under layer of pink base, an added brighter pink for her cheeks, and an even brighter pink lipstick which was overlain with a vivid gloss. Mascara was added to her lashes, and the palest light pink eye shadow was added to her lids and just below her eyebrows. Mary plucked Angela's eyebrows almost completely away, but accentuated the remainder with another hue of soft blond.

Angela's bangs were re-cut, and after curling and pulling her hair into two pigtails she sprinkled a smidgen of sparkly dust over it all. The sparkly material gave her hair a discreet shimmery glossy glow. Two small hooped earrings were inserted in her tiny pierced lobes. The hoops, like the necklace and her bracelet were gold. 

Mary and Angela came back downstairs, hand in hand. Angela in her pretty little dress, Mary in her black maid's uniform. Vonda took one look at Mary and shook her head, "No Mary that will never do. I have something for you." Handing Mary a package Vonda told her, "Step in the other room. Slip this on."

Mary stepped aside and opened the package. It contained a crisp white button up V-neck silk blouse, a pair of black pleated slacks, and black high heeled shoes. Mary put the outfit on. It was quite a change from Mary the maid. She looked mature and elegant, quite a different look from her usual dress, and certainly far different than Angela's little girl look. She came out, "Thank you ma'am."

Vonda looked Mary over and undid the top three buttons of the blouse, "You have beautiful full breasts Mary. Let's put them on display today." She added, "The ma'am won't be necessary this afternoon. Today it's Mary and Vonda." Looking at Angela she added, "For you its ma'am, and I mean ma'am," pointing at Mary, "for the two of us."

Angela watched the interchange between Vonda and her supposed maid but said nothing.

The three women stepped out, got in Vonda's car and drove to town. Vonda planned on doing some shopping. She wanted to visit a small boutique in town, pick up the invitations for the not too distant barbecue, and last, stop off for lunch at the delicatessen. Vonda had her plans. She wanted to destroy Angela, but she needed Mary to be her instrument for that destruction. Courting and flattering Mary would be an integral part of her goals.

Vonda and Mary sat in front. Angela sat in the back. All the way in Vonda used the time to draw Mary into conversation. They talked about the weather, the car, and the things they could get for lunch. Occasionally Angela tried to join in, but Vonda would shush her every time. It caused Angela great chagrin. She felt like she was being maneuvered into something, and she wasn't sure what it was, she only knew she didn't like it and she had to find some way to break the cycle. She saw Mary as her only ally. She knew she needed Mary if she were to break the web Vonda was weaving. 

On the other hand Mary was starting to enjoy her new relationship with Vonda, yet she understood she still had to be careful with Angela. She needed to keep Angela's trust, but if she played her cards right she might emerge as something of an equal regarding Vonda and the true guardian, disciplinarian, and, in a sense, even arbiter of Angela's future. It all seemed very exciting. She'd have a new friend in Vonda and Angela would become her love toy.




Angela and Vonda Ch. 04



What they didn't talk about was what Vonda planned on buying at the boutique, what she wanted to do when they were at the delicatessen, and how she'd planned a special trip to the jeweler's. All that had to wait of course.

*

This story is to be continued. Any comments, suggestions, or criticism is welcome.

Carvohi 



Angela and Vonda Ch. 05



The girls, Vonda, Mary, and Angela, reached the boutique, got out of the car, and went inside. Vonda had several things she wanted to buy especially for Mary. She wanted Mary to have a new look. They searched up and down the aisles for things. She explained what she wanted in a succinct manner, "Mary you were hired as a maid, but owing to some changed circumstances I think we need to reevaluate your role. I'm sure Angela will agree we can't have you running around in the uniform of a domestic when your duties will have changed so significantly. For instance there will be times when you'll need to take Angela out, perhaps to go shopping or maybe to visit a doctor. We can't have you out and about in black dresses all the time. Angela now being more your ward than mistress you'll need to dress the part."

Mary answered, "I'm comfortable in the things I have."

Vonda responded, "I'm not. I want you to look smart and sharp all the time, not like some drudge. You represent the family. In fact, you're a part of the family now."

"Yes ma'am."

"Stop the yes ma'am. The only yes ma'am I want to hear had better come from her." She pointed to Angela; taking her right hand she lightly tickled the back of Angela's neck, "That right dear?"

Angela looked down and away, "Yes ma'am."

Vonda stood a little taller, "That's how I want it. Now let's buy Mary some new things." Collectively Vonda arranged the purchase of a dozen dresses, a dozen more skirt and blouse outfits, and numerous other items of apparel. When they were finished and had everything in bags she instructed Angela to make several trips from the store to the car until all the packages were safely locked away in the trunk. "OK girls let's go the deli and get something to eat."

They went to the same delicatessen where Angela had played the exhibitionist not so long before. They even sat at the same table, only on this occasion it was Vonda running the show, "Angela you sit over there by the window. Cross your legs nicely so everyone passing by can see your pretty panties." Angela, mortified, did as she was told. "There that's a good girl. Now keep your hands folded on the table."

When the waitress came Mary ordered a BLT on toast and some French fries. Vonda got a bowl of crab soup and a salad. Vonda ordered for Angela as well, "Angela darling I see they have a menu for children. Would you like a hot dog or would you prefer some chicken nuggets?" 

Angela stiffened, "I want a BLT and fries like Mary."

"Don't be silly," Vonda replied. "You'll eat from the children's menu until I think you're mature enough to handle grown up food."

"OK. I'll, take the nuggets."

"You'll take the nuggets what?"

Angela knew what Vonda wanted and this time was determined not to give in to her, "I'll take the nuggets with an order of fries and some honey mustard."

Vonda knew what was up. Angela was betting nothing would happen out in public, "Darling. You're either going to answer me politely or I'm going to have to spank you right here in front of everyone." She smiled sweetly, "Now what will it be?"

"Spank me. I dare you."

Before the words were even completely out of Angela's mouth Vonda left her seat, grabbed Angela by the arm and threw her over her knee, "All right. We'll do it the hard way."

Angela was genuinely flummoxed, "You can't do this! I'm a grown woman! You're crazy!"

By then Vonda had already let go with her first slap across her left cheek.

"Ouch!" shouted Angela.

Vonda leveled a second, a third, and then a fourth slap across the woman's perfect cheeks.

Angela yelped and yelped again, "OK! OK! I'm sorry."

"You're what?"

"I'm sorry ma'am. May I please have some nuggets, fries, and honey mustard?"

By then a small crowd had gathered to see what the commotion was about. Most everyone knew Vonda, and by then, thanks to Angela's own misconduct earlier and thanks to the McCardle's wagging tongues, everyone knew there was something wrong with the new girl living with Brandon and Vonda.

Angela was stricken as she heard the hushed comments, "My Vonda has her hands full. I never would have believed it. How can Brandon put up with it?"

Vonda turned Angela back over and helped her back in her seat, "You hear everyone don't you?"

Angela nodded.

"They all think you're emotionally disturbed," Vonda rubbed it in. In a low threatening tone of voice, "There isn't a single person in this town who would raise a single finger to help you. Brandon and I own this town. The people living here all in one way or another are dependent on our good will. You knew that when you came here," She leaned even closer, "You're mine you little idiot. You'll do what I say, when I say it, or I'll ship you off to an asylum."

Angela tried to defend herself, "Brandon."

Vonda stopped her cold, "Brandon does what I say. He already thinks you're off your rocker," She smiled evilly, "you'll do everything you're told, understand?"

Angela looked at Mary for help.

Vonda took her hand and turned Angela's face back, "Mary works for me. She'll be good to you as long as I allow it. If Mary offers any opposition I'll have her fired and turn you over to Dorothy and Marge. They're drooling at the chance to take you over."

Mary reached across with her hand. She wanted to show Angela she cared, partly because she really did, partly because she wanted to keep her job, but mainly because she liked the idea of having her very own living doll, "Angela please hold it together. I'll never hurt you, and in time things will get back to normal. You'll see."

Vonda volunteered, "You better listen to Mary. She's got your best interests at heart."

Angela was sniffling from the spanking, and her eyes were still watering from fresh tears, "I understand." She looked at Vonda with genuine fear, "I promise. No more trouble."

That's a good girl. Now I see our food has arrived." The three ate in silence.

Long about mid-munch Vonda look over at Angela, "Will you stop smacking your lips."

"I beg your pardon."

"You're eating; you're smacking or doing something with your teeth or lips. I told you to stop."

"I don't know what you mean."

Vonda looked at Mary, "Don't you hear it?"

"Well maybe a little." was Mary's response.

"What do you mean a little? I can hear it like it was a steam shovel or something. When was the last time you had your teeth checked?"

Angela was a little befuddled, "Why just before Brandon and I got."

Vonda interrupted. She wouldn't let her say married, "We're having your teeth checked. I think there's an overbite there that will have to be fixed."

"I don't have an overbite. My teeth are perfect."

Vonda looked off in the distance, "I'm not so sure. I think we'll schedule an appointment for you with the dentist."

Angela blew it off, "Go ahead if you want. He won't find anything."

Nothing else was said. The three women got up and went back to the car. Vonda made a comment, "We have one more stop to make."

Angela asked, "Where's that?"

Vonda turned and glared at Angela, "Did I speak to you? I was speaking to Mary. You know little girls are to be seen and not heard. Do I make myself clear?"

Angela answered, "Yes ma'am."

Vonda looked back at Mary and smiled, "I made an appointment for Angela at the jewelers." She put the car in gear and off they sped. 

They reached the jewelers in good time, and all three went in. Vonda commented, "I have something special in mind for you today Angela." She went to the main desk and asked to see the head jeweler.

He immediately appeared. Having made things for Vonda many time in the past he was well aware of the advantages that accrued to the jewelry shop that had her business, "I'm here for you," was what he said.

"Good. Here is the young woman I told you about. Have you got everything ready?"

"Yes ma'am. Would you all please step in the back? I think everything is in order."

They went all the way back to the very rear of the store to an area where customers almost never got to went. The jeweler opened a case and took out several large boxes, I believe we have everything right here." He opened the first box. Inside were several circular pieces of metal, all of varying sizes. He took a cloth ruler and wrapped it around Angela's left then her right wrist, "Yes perfect." He pulled forth two circular metal bands. Each was precisely an inch wide and an eighth of an inch in thickness. There was an almost invisible hinge at one end and an equally difficult to see locking hasp on the other. He placed each circular band around one of Angela's wrists and snapped each one shut, "There." Each circular band looked innocently like a simple gold bracelet when in fact each was a fully locked manacle. Each had two eyebolts one on either side opposing each other. 

He took the measuring tool and wrapped it around Angela's neck. He smiled, "Ah yes." From the box he extracted another circular band, held it up, and then affixed it around the girl's neck. There was that same quiet magical little click that told everyone the collar was fully attached. It also had two small eyebolts one opposing the other, and like the wrist bands this piece was also one inch in width and one eighth of an inch thick. He looked at the disbelieving Angela, "Would the lady please sit down and raise her feet?"

Angela looked at Vonda and then Mary. She had the look of someone in shock. She sat down and raised her feet.

The jeweler measured each foot and snapped a similar ring around each ankle. Turning to Vonda he added, "I have here several lengths of gold chain. Some are six, some twelve, some eighteen, one thirty-six, and one six feet long. Each has its own small metal lock that automatically closes through the eyebolts locking everything shut. You may wish to lock her up or not in any fashion you choose." He handed Vonda the box, "Here also are two keys. Both have been programmed to unlock any of the devices here. Just in case, I have a third key I'll keep here. Should you need additional ones I can make them from the original?"

Vonda took the two keys, then handed one to Mary, "Excellent. I'm sure I'll be in need of your expertise again very soon. Smiling at Angela and Mary she said, "Come along ladies. It's time to go home."

As an afterthought, but actually a well planned decision, Vonda once again turned to Angela, "While you're here why don't you get completely undressed."

Angela looked up, "What?"

Vonda replied, "Yes, take off all you clothes.

Angela was stumped, "Right here? Right now?"

Vonda gave her an impatient stare, "Yes right now." Turning to the jeweler she asked, "You remember what else we talked about over the phone?"

He answered, "Yes ma'am."

Vonda looked back at Angela, "Get your clothes off. Looking at Mary, "You help her. The jeweler and I want to get Angela fully measured for other." She hesitated, "things I have in mind."

Angela was a little scared but too scared to ask, "What other things?"

Mary already had the top of her dress down around her waist. She whispered, "Be quiet or you'll get in trouble."

It took a couple minutes but Mary got Angela out of all her clothing. Her dress, shoes stocking, underwear were all neatly folded and paced on a chair. Standing completely naked between Vonda her sister, Mary her one time maid, and the jeweler she just met, she felt embarrassed and degraded. One used to be her equal but was now her despotic mistress. The other woman had been her servant, but was now her sometime friend, sometime governess, and occasional disciplinarian. The last person, the jeweler, was a complete stranger, at least nominally a servant, he was currently about to take a very personal and proprietary interest in her body. 

It occurred to Angela she didn't like any of them. All three viewed her more as an object than as a person. Even at that moment they'd left the backroom door slightly ajar. Anyone with the least interest could peer in and see her in the altogether. Mary and Vonda in particular knew the door was cracked open but pretended not to notice. It was a game they were playing; a game designed to undermine her confidence. Just as bad, it was chilly in the room. They were all fully clothed. The man was even wearing a jacket, but she had nothing on. The sparse carpet was cold on her feet, and she had to huddle round shouldered just to keep in what little warmth she felt. She was very much the victim of their perversity. She didn't like it, but she had no control over it. They controlled her surroundings, and seemed to act like they owned her body. 

Angela listened and kept her mouth shut while Mary got her to step out of her dress. Once Mary got Angela completely naked the Jeweler took out a cloth tape and started taking measurements. He measured her arms, her legs, her hips, her crease, the distance down from her navel under her pussy up her ass crack to the base of her spine. He measured her nipples, septum, and clitoris. He even asked her to bite on a ruler so he could measure the width of her mouth. At last he announced he was done.

Vonda exulted, "Excellent!"

The three left the back room, Vonda wearing a quiet smile, Mary happy but concealing it very well, Angela in a state of shock. Vonda piped up, "I could buy some little bells and attach them to your new jewelry."

Angela didn't say anything. She was afraid to. 

"Just imagine you could jingle jangle around the whole house then. You'd like that wouldn't you." Angela pretended she didn't hear her sister. Vonda turned the radio up and they listened quietly to music all the way back. 

After they got home Angela was sent back to her bedroom. Vonda said she had to stay there a few more days because of her little outburst at the deli, but they forgot about all the shackles. 

While Angela was left alone in her bedroom Vonda made several more telephone calls. She'd talked to Mary about her concerns for Angela's health, and wanted to arrange several doctor's visits. She told Mary she'd set up the appointments, but it would be Mary's responsibility to take her. Mary understood and agreed.

Later Mary went upstairs to see Angela, "Vonda wants me to check my key and make sure it works on all you new apparel."

"You mean my new chains don't you?"

"Angela please."

"Don't Angela please me Mary; I think you're enjoying this as much as she is."

"How can you say that? I love you."

"Oh go on, check your key."

Mary gave the appearance of being sympathetic and understanding, but still added, "You know you're not supposed to talk to me that way."

Angela was a quick learner. She was getting a better understanding of the rules all the time. Mary liked her, but Mary liked her new status even more. She doubted if Mary would ever overtly call her down in front of her sadistic sister or actually be a tattle tale, but she sensed an increased readiness on Mary's part to allow suggestions of Angela's continued independence to seep into conversations. Then Mary could look on in wide eyed innocence while Vonda meted out some sort of new punishment.

Mary took out her key and undid all the manacles and put them in a drawer, "There we'll leave them in there until Vonda wants to see you. Is that all right?"

Angela felt uncomfortable about what she'd just said, "I sorry Mary. I only thought. Well it's hard and getting harder."

Mary was at her side instantly. She took her hand and brushed back her hair. She wiped the emerging tears from her eyes, "I know." She kissed her.

This time Angela returned the kiss. She needed something, someone, a person who wouldn't be mean to her. It looked like that person was Mary, "It gets so lonely up here, alone all day, awake and alone all night.

Mary wrapped Angela in her arms, "I know." She kept combing her fingers through the woman's hair. She lightly touched the back of her neck. She kissed her neck, "Let me take care of you. Let me be the one to love you."

Angela leaned into Mary's body. She felt her soft full breasts as they pressed against her cheek, "Oh Mary." She let Mary fondle her.

They lay down on the bed together, Angela in her cute little yellow empire waist dress with her skirt rising up showing her pretty panties, hair tied off in pig tails with delicious juvenile bangs in front, Mary in her womanly white blouse with the three buttons open and her smartly tailored black slacks. Anyone unfamiliar with the two would have guessed it was a young adolescent child with her mother. Mary had time so the two held each other and cuddled. Angela needed warmth, and Mary needed to share. Mary needed to be in control. They looked like a Norman Rockwell painting.

Downstairs Vonda had called a close personal friend, a doctor for whom many favors had been bestowed. It was time to collect. She wanted a good orthodontist to look at Angela's mouth. She wanted to get someone, an eye, ear, nose, and throat man to check her in those places, and Vonda was formulating a suspicion, and she meant formulate, that perhaps little Miss Angela had a polyp or growth of some sort in one of her breasts. Anything like that she presumed, would certainly require immediately treatment. Yes, she thought she'd see some changes regarding little Miss Angela, meaningful changes.

Angela was kept in her room for another three days. No one except Mary came to see her. Mary told her Brandon had called, and would be away for several more days. She had no idea exactly how long. Mary said Vonda had arranged an appointment with an orthodontist so he could check Angela's teeth.

Angela was in no fear of having any tooth problems, but a periodic check up was always a good idea, if for no other purpose than to spot check for cavities, and get a good cleaning. Angela was proud of her brilliantly white teeth, their perfect shape, and her wonderful smile.

Mary took Angela to the dentist. He was a kind older man, but when it was time to look in her mouth he had the gentleness of a bull dozer. He had large hands and fat fingers, and he seemed to want to get all ten fingers and as much palm in her mouth as possible. It was an uncomfortable experience.

After his initial examination he made a call to Vonda and reported his findings. To Angela's surprise he said she did have an odd overbite that could lead to problems later if they didn't handle it as soon as possible. His explanation sounded reasonable and thoughtful. He said it wasn't serious, but could lead to grinding at night among some other odd sounding things she didn't quite understand. He was the first person in weeks who had treated her anything like an adult. She was glad of it, and she had no problem signing the documentation allowing him to perform some minor dental procedures. In fact he explained they could do it right in his office that very afternoon. 

He affixed some metal calipers to her jaws. He gave her a couple shots of Novocain, an injection he said would reduce any tension but would also make her a little drowsy, he go her to inhale some kind of mind enervating gas, and she was out like a light. 

Angela had no idea how long she was under, but when she awakened she was being assisted back in the car. Mary explained the dentist had performed some procedures on her front teeth and on four of her molars. Temporary caps had been affixed to the molars, and she wasn't to try to talk for several hours. They had also placed a protective mask over her mouth to ward off the very real possibility of infection. 

The doctor had prescribed antibiotics to further discourage possible such a possibility. Angela was to go home and go to bed. She wasn't to be allowed out of bed for two more days. The entire time Mary would feed her, and a mask would be kept over her mouth.

Angela rubbed her tongue around in her mouth and felt where the molars had been smoothed down. She'd had a cap put on another molar a few years ago and understood the procedures there. What she couldn't understand was the difference in feeling around her front teeth. Using her tongue it felt like they had been shaved down, made smaller. She attributed it to her chemically induced sense of ennui. She was certain once she was fully awake, and got a chance to look, she'd be satisfied.




Angela and Vonda Ch. 05



Angela remained in her room in bed, mostly asleep for another three days. The affects of the dental procedures were more profound than anticipated. There were no complications, only an increased concern regarding her overall health. When she reawakened Mary was there to greet her. She explained Brandon had been home the day before, had looked in on her, was concerned, and promised to stay longer the next time her was back. For the time being he had to leave the country for a meeting in Southeast Asia. It was to be a long trip and he didn't expect to be back any time soon.

Mary kept Angela in bed another day, bringing her sterile drinking water, soft foods, and a special mouthwash she used several times. During this time Mary massaged Angela, rubbing her with soothing lotions, and just generally making over her.

On the second day after her more complete recovery Angela was allowed out of bed on her own. Till then she hadn't been permitted in the bathroom and hadn't seen her teeth since the surgery. Her tongue still told her something was unusual about her front teeth. When she finally did get into the bathroom to look in a mirror she was absolutely totally horrified. Her front teeth, her beautiful front teeth had been filed or shaved away to almost nothing. They looked like a child's teeth. Nothing hurt so she guessed they hadn't penetrated deep enough to affect any of the nerves, but the visual was devastating. Her beautiful wonderful sexy womanly smile was gone. Looking back at her through the mirror was a set of baby teeth, the teeth of a little girl, the smile was the look of a baby's. She screamed!

Mary was in the bathroom instantly. She grabbed Angela and pulled her away from the scene of the crime. Mary immediately injected her with something to put her to sleep. It was obvious that Angela wasn't pleased with her new look.

She reawakened hours later with the full knowledge they'd done something awful to her. The inconceivability that someone would go so far to torment her as to ruin her teeth was beyond imagination. Vonda was even more of a monster than Angela imagined. She got up and returned to the bathroom with the false hope her tongue and her dreadful imaginings were somehow wrong. Looking in the mirror a second time only confirmed what she knew to be true. 

All six of her front teeth, uppers and lowers, had been either shaved or chiseled down. It looked like spaces had been filed between her front teeth. Her beautiful teeth, her beautiful big white teeth were gone. All that was left were childish little nubs. Equally disturbing, something had been done to her molars. She felt with her tongue, opened her mouth and looked, and then used her fingers to confirm one upper and lower molar on each side had been sculpted down just above the gum line. She imagined that would create difficulties eating, but she couldn't fathom why her molars were reconfigured in such an abstract manner.

Angela took heart. Regardless of the short term damage they'd inflicted teeth were something that could be fixed. Caps could be made to return her natural smile, and molars could also be easily capped. But why would Vonda do this? What hideous evil purpose did she have for such awful disfigurement?

Mary walked into the bathroom, "I saw what happened to your teeth. They said there was some sort of infection that had penetrated all your front teeth requiring their immediate reshaping." Mary looked at Angela for some kind of response but found none so she continued, "The dentist assured us the situation was only temporary. After a few weeks of medication, gargling a special wash, and some secondary surgical procedures they'd be able to cap your teeth and make them as good as new."

So far Angela hadn't said anything, but these last remarks were a bit much, "I wan." Pause, "I wan." Another pause. "I, I, I." She couldn't talk. She tried again, "I nee." Pause, "I ha." Nothing was coming out! She was stunned. Terrified! She couldn't talk! What else had they done to her? She tried to yell, "I wan." She grabbed her throat. What was going on?

Mary ran over and grabbed her arms, "What's wrong? Say something!"

Angela could barely get anything out, "My woo!" Now she wasn't making any sense! She'd lost her voice!

Mary pushed her in a chair, "Sit down Angela. Calm yourself down. You're acting hysterically. Just try to get hold of yourself." Mary knelt beside her and held her in her arms, "This might just be a hysterical reaction to the sight of your teeth. There's no medical or clinical reason why you shouldn't be talking."

Angela sat as calmly as she could, then very slowly she tried to articulate what she needed to say, "I...want...my...teeth...my teeth." She was unable to pronounce certain things.

Mary tried to be helpful, "Don't try to talk." She reached around and grabbed a pen and paper, "Here, write down what you want me to hear."

Angela reached for the pen and paper, but her hand hung limply at her wrist. She tried to pick up the pen, and though her arm responded, nothing beyond reacted at all. Her wrist hung limply. She could wiggle her fingers, but wasn't able to grasp anything. It was like everything from her wrist outward was capable only of the simplest movement, but incapable of anything else. She looked at Mary in horror, "My wri, I no move my." She was losing all voice control.

Mary reacted instantly. She jumped up and called 911. They had to get her to the hospital. This was terrible! Something had to be done. 

Vonda intercepted the 911 call, and called her own surgeon who was out at the house well ahead of any paramedic vehicle. The surgeon examined Angela's throat and arm and wrist control. He also gave her legs, ankles, and feet a thorough examination. . His called the surgeon who worked on Angela's teeth, and came back with an analysis. The nitrous oxide in and of itself was an almost totally harmless gas, but there must have an allergic reaction to the oxide when combined with the two other pain killers Angela had been given. The result was the current set of difficulties. 

An allergic reaction was all it was. It could last a few hours; it could last as long as a few weeks. The way he explained it Angela was suffering from acute laryngeal dystonia, or put more simply laryngeal incompetence. The interaction of the medicines had caused her to become incapable of using her voice box to form certain words and make certain sounds. Sometimes it was referred to as oral glassification. It would go away with time. 

The problem with her wrist movement and her inability to use her fingers or thumbs to hold or grasp things was what he called peripheral neuropathy. The ailment with her wrists had a popular name. It was often called 'drop wrist'. This passivity of the wrists and the fingers might last a few hours, a few days, or it could last longer. The doctor was reluctant to set a time line on the extent of that ailment.

The doctor was concerned that the malady might spread to her ankles, feet, and toes, but considering there was no evidence of spread yet, it might not occur.

Angela, Mary, and Vonda listened to the doctor with alarm. Vonda felt especially bad since it had been her idea to correct Angela's overbite, which actually had been almost nonexistent. Now her poor sister was both verbally and mechanically impaired.

Vonda asked, "Are there any medications that could offset this, or at least reduce the incapacitating affects?"

The doctor smiled and reassured them all there were drugs that could help the verbal problem, but he was less certain about the trouble with her wrists and fingers. 

Angela had a hundred questions but every time she tried to speak all that came out was a garbled mess. Further, the continued effort to talk was causing some pain.

Mary put her hand on Angela's arm and tried to calm her, "It'll be OK honey, you'll see."

Angela's response was to yank her hand away, but in so doing she hit it on a table causing her yelp in in pain. She couldn't talk and ask questions, and she couldn't use a pad or pen to write any questions down. She was reduced to responding to questions the others around her asked.

The doctor asked her if she felt any pain. She responded with a negative swish of her head.

Both Vonda and Mary were very solicitous, and it soon was apparent to Angela the doctor was being overly solicitous as well. Every question seemed to be directed at her as though she were incapable of cogent thought. She thought to herself, damn she was unable to talk or write but she was still capable of thinking clearly.

Vonda asked Mary, "Mary dear would you help Angela back to her room. She looks terribly distraught."

Angela was distraught but not tired. She tried again to say something, "I. I. Wa. I wa."

Vonda took her limp little hand, "Angela don't make your sister angry. Go upstairs now with Mary while I talk to the doctor."

The last thing Angela wanted was Vonda with the doctor and her not being there, "Na, Na, I, Wa."

Vonda turned to Mary, "Help Angela upstairs." Looking back at Angela she sternly added, "Get Marge and Dorothy if you need help."

Angela understood the inference. She turned to the doctor and tried to implore to him that she needed to be there, "I. I. Oh. Pe."

The doctor smiled reassuringly, "I'm going to talk to your sister now. We're going to order you some medicine that will help you get your voice back. Don't worry dear, everything will be all right."

My God Angela thought. He's treating her like a child. She wasn't a child. She just couldn't talk.

Mary stood up, "Come on Angela. Up we go girl."

It was the first time Mary had referred to her in such a condescending manner. The use of the term girl was especially galling. She got up, let Mary hold her arm at the elbow, and went back upstairs.

Once Angela and Mary had stepped away the doctor and Vonda had a more serious talk.

The doctor began, "We have medicines that will enable her to regain some of her vocal functions, but there are side affects."

Vonda was curious, "How much vocal function will she regain?"

The doctor stroked his chin, "She'll never fully recover just with medication, but she'll regain some function. However, she must be kept calm. She must be discouraged from talking too much. Just simple questions and simple answers for a long time."

Vonda tilted her head, "How long a time?"

"I have no idea."

"What kind of side affects are you referring to?"

The doctor took both Vonda's hands in his. He knew how concerned the woman was about her sister's health, 

"She'll be easily confused at first, and there will be high level of suggestibility."

Vonda gave him a piercing look, "Meaning?"

"For a long time it will be easy to talk her into things; you know, persuade her to do things she might not normally do. Under those circumstances my best suggestion is to limit her outside contacts s she won't be so easily confused or upset. Keep her calm and stable. Try her keep her active and involved in the tasks she's be able to perform. Give her lots of attention, and lots of warmth. Make certain she has lots of things to do. Of course, within the limits of her ability"

Vonda asked, "How long doctor? How long could this go on?"

His answer, "I expect she'll recover eventually, but don't look for miracles. She's suffering from an acute and incredibly rare allergic reaction. And I might add too much stress will only prolong and aggravate the problem."

Vonda gave him a concerned look, "I see. How soon can we expect the medications for her voice?"

The doctor was quick to respond, "Oh I'll see that you get everything in a day or two."

Vonda looked at him, "Don't send it. Bring it yourself."

"Of course."

After Vonda showed the doctor to the door she considered. How unfortunate. Our little Miss Angela can't talk and can't use her hands to write. She really is in a sort of a bind, such a pity. She walked down the hall to Brandon's study. She had to make some more calls. Poor girl she thought. We'll have to find some kinds of therapy I suppose.

Upstairs in Angela's room Mary got her settled in, "Now don't you worry Angela. I'll dress you and feed you, and bathe, and take good care you." She took her hand and brushed back some loose hairs, "You won't have to say or do anything. I'm going to be here for you all the time." She kissed her lips, "You'll see. I'm going to make you so happy."

Mary got up and went to Angela's bureau, "Now let's see. How can we dress you up today?"

Angela looked on with mixed emotions, if she was dependent upon Mary's good will before it was even truer now. The woman rummaging through her chest had become more than her warden. She was in a position to control every single aspect of her every waking moment. Angela cringed; Mary up here, Vonda downstairs, and Brandon gone.

*

This is not finished. If anyone has any comments, suggestions, ideas, or criticisms please share. Carvohi



Angela and Vonda Ch. 06



Chapter Six

A Brief Recollection of Things Past

The way it had started out Angela thought she had things pretty much under control. She'd married a good looking rich man, and had managed to keep his meddling sister Vonda at bay. However, she'd had to make some awkward compromises. For one she'd agreed to a battery of psychological tests that hadn't made any sense except that Brandon was fearful he'd end up marrying someone like his mother, a blithering idiot who'd turned into a real basket case they'd had to keep locked away in upper floor rooms like some prisoner. 

She'd agreed to the tests without a second thought. She was an intelligent, well educated, well rounded woman. Albeit she had to admit she was a shade on the immature side, and when her sister had started making remarks and then suggestions about her attire she'd rebelled. 

Her rebellion was ill conceived. The family into which she'd married was filthy rich, and they controlled virtually everything within a five hundred mile radius of the palatial estate they called home. It didn't seem to take long before, through her own lack of judgment, Vonda's meticulous planning, and her husbands overall indifference that she found herself on the losing end.

A few days prior Vonda had either persuaded or coerced her, she couldn't decide which, to get her teeth checked. Her sister claimed she had an overbite. The result was a personal disaster. The dentist was a close family friend, and beholden to Vonda for most of his clientele. He willingly went along with the whole overbite myth. He'd gotten her under the influence of a combination of drugs, and he had shaved her teeth to child's sizes. Worse, the chemicals he'd used to knock her out had caused some severe allergic reactions; first she'd lost the ability to speak coherently, and second she'd lost significant motor skills in her wrists. 

During his last visit he, Vonda, and the maids had literally ignored her when she tried to be included in the conversation about her status. Communication wasn't easy as it was, not being able to talk or write, but they hadn't even tried to pay her any mind. It was as though she were a child; invisible, someone to be talked about, discussed, but never consulted.

Things had been compounded by Vonda's growing hostility toward her and concomitant increased fondness for their primary maid Mary. The way things presently stood Mary had the authority to manage all Angela's day to day routines. In fact, if Mary chose, she could report anything she did to Vonda who in turn might use the information to further degrade or humiliate her. To be sure, she'd already spanked her once in public, and she had reorganized her attire in such a way that most of what she could choose to wear was childish, even infantile. It wasn't as though she could pick what to wear anyway. Everything she wore nowadays was laid out for her in advance by Mary.

If that wasn't bad enough Vonda had taken to letting Mary wear regular street clothes instead of her maid's attire, and it was starting to look as though Mary was beginning to assume more and more of the responsibilities, and concomitant privileges, normally afforded the woman of the house. It was impossible to put it any other way, with Vonda's support, Mary was more the woman of the house than Angela was, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it.

These circumstances were aggravated by Brandon's long absences, first on this or that business errand, then on one or another personal expedition. He was gone all the time, and without his intercession she, Angela, was less and less able to stand up for herself. 

The situation wasn't helped by Mary's insistence on being so overtly nice. Angela knew Mary secretly only wanted to use her, that is Angela, as a kind of little play thing, a toy. There wasn't a whole lot she could about it. The other two maids, Marge and Dorothy were sadistic little bitches looking for opportunities to take advantage of her. Mary was her jailor, clothier, hair dresser; literally a substitute parent.

That was Angela's situation as she sat upstairs in her third floor bedroom, well away from the rest of household, with only Mary for company. Downstairs she knew the doctor had come back. He'd come back with more information about her condition, and presumably with medicines to help. Angela knew it wasn't going to do her much good. Vonda and Mary would never let her know anything the doctor said.

Getting Ready to See the Doctor:

Mary sat on the side of the bed and sweetly whispered, "Look what I have for you to wear."

Angela looked at the outfit with alarm. It was another child's romper set.

Mary reached over and took Angela by the wrist, "Come on. Let's get you a nice bath, we'll dress you up and take you downstairs. The doctor wants to see you, and Vonda has some new ideas on how to help you over this current little crisis."

Mary pulled Angela to her feet, walked her to the bathroom, and helped her in the steaming hot bath water. She proceeded to scrub Angela down. 

She started with Angela's hair. Washing and rewashing it with a fragrant shampoo. While it was still wet she combed it out, and preset it in two little pigtails. Mary took her fingers and wound the strands into childlike little ringlets

Her hair partially ready, Mary washed Angela's upper body. Using only her hands and fingers she gently wiped and cleaned every nook and cranny. Mary took an extra long time wiping over Angela's pert 34B breasts. Angela's breasts weren't overlarge, but they were good sized, and they were firm and supple. Mary lingered over each one much too long, taking several opportunities to gently squeeze her nipples and rub over her aureoles with the palms of her hands. 

Angela found it very arousing, but preferred that Mary stop. However, with her limited vocal capabilities there wasn't anything she could say to stop her, and she was reluctant to use her hands to run interference in as much as they weren't very responsive. She did wriggle herself back and forth hoping to get Mary's hands away, but Mary thought her movements were a pleasurable response and only tickled and fondled her breasts with more ardor.

Mary found ample opportunities to touch Angela in other delicate upper places, especially under her arms, and around the nape of her neck. 

Angela was at all odds, if Mary wasn't tickling her she was giving her goose bumps. Mary took her index finger, with its now long nail, and gently curled it under Angela's chin, much the same way one would curl their finger when summoning a dog. It felt good, but it was degrading. 

Angela tried to avoid the lascivious look on Mary's face. She wore was a perverse, almost sadistic, little grin.

Mary helped Angela stand so she could clean her lower body. It had been several days since Angela's vagina had been shaved, and the stubble was beginning to show. Mary made Angela stand up with her hands resting on Mary's shoulders while she took a razor and thoroughly scraped away the new fuzz. Once she'd done that she took a special cream and further removed all trace of any hair. She took her fingers and smoothed over the clear hairless flesh. She used her fingertips to softly rub the slit between Angela's labia; pressing ever so slightly inside. It caused Angela to twist and turn. 

When Mary had finished Angela's little puss looked like a child's; all smooth, silky soft, and pink. She smiled, "Angela you have the puss of a little girl. You're so delightful!"

Angela enjoyed the pleasurable feeling of having her vaginal hair removed, but she hated the outcome. It didn't just make her look more childish; it made her feel childish. It undermined her confidence and eroded her sense of self. Mary's every instance of nurturing, wiping, tickling, fondling, and teasing only served to further lower her own self esteem.

Out of the bath Mary walked Angela back to the bed, made her lie down, and performed several more highly inappropriate activities. First she further oiled her vagina, and then powdered it, thus making it incredibly sensitive and absolutely virginal in appearance. 

Mary took several minutes buffering Angela's finger and toe nails. She anointed them with a clear nail polish. Her nails had been cut back almost to the quick. Her hands, largely useless anyway, looked like a child's, and they'd become so sensitive, even if she could have used them to grip anything, she'd have felt uncomfortable doing so.

Mary took great pains to thoroughly dry Angela's hair, comb it out, and tie it off into two pretty little pig tails. These tails, first held in place with rubber bands, were further decorated with little red ribbons. Mary trimmed the end tips of each pig tail blunting them evenly.

Finished with Angela's hair Mary was all smiles and cheery reactions. She took Angela's face in her two hands, "You're so cute! I love you this way!"

Angela, afraid to upset the maid who'd become her overlord, responded with a pensive smile.

Mary went out of way with Angela's make up; applying a shimmering pink lip gloss, soft pink cheek blush, slightly darker pink eye shadow, and dark mascara. When she was finished she told Angela, "You look like every teenage boy's idea of a wet dream." Indeed she was gorgeous, all pretty in pink, and ready for her outfit.

Mary had laid out a cute little pink romper. She helped Angela put her hands and arms through the short sleeved top. She used her fingers to puff up the capped shoulders, and then tie off the ends of the ruffled sleeves with tiny pink bows.

She buttoned her up the front. There were about twenty tiny little pink pearl buttons that started at her waist and marched prettily all the way to her neck. Mary didn't button it all the way, but stopped about four buttons from the top. This allowed anyone interested to get a discreet look at her pouting breasts, but would also allow anyone interested to look at her neck jewelry. 

Then, almost as an afterthought, Mary opened the front of the romper wide, and took a small container from her waist pocket, "This is brown ocher Angela. I'm going to rub a little on your aureoles. That way they'll stand out a little darker and a little more pronounced under your outfit." 

Angela didn't want her aureoles and nipples to stand out. She tried to pull away.

Mary took Angela's chin in her hand, "Now, now. You'll like this. With your nipples darker people will pay more attention to you. You'll look even sexier."

Angela gave up.

Mary rubbed the ocher into her aureoles and nipples, "See Angela, you'll look extra pretty for Vonda and the doctor." She gave Angela an extra pretty smile, "Yes indeed your breasts and nipples certainly look beautiful now." She leaned forward and bit the tip of the distraught woman's right breast causing her to flinch, "tasty too!" She re-buttoned the romper top.

Mary buttoned the front of the panty bottom and tied off each little legging at the outside of each thigh. The romper top and bottom was a pale pink, and translucent. It was easy to see the outline of Angela's body though the outfit, and with the bright pink sheen of her skin it was an absolutely delightful sight. 

The romper was a one piece with a thin elastic waist band cinching it together. Mary helped Angela stand up, "Turn around sweetie. Let me look you over."

Angela slowly turned around.

As she turned Mary watched as the woman's breasts slowly swayed and bounced. Her ass stood out prominently, and when she looked at her crotch she could faintly see the outline of her vagina. Mary gave Angela a hard smack on one of her ass cheeks. Immediately Mary could see the red imprint of her hand through the translucent material.

Angela jumped back from the slap!

Mary grinned mischievously, "Sorry Angela. I had to do it."

Angela was mortified.

Mary was too excited to stop. She reached around with her right hand and pinched Angela's left ass cheek. She laughed, "Sorry Angela, you're just too scrumptious for words."

Out of control Mary thrust Angela back on the bed and sat atop her, "I just wish we could stay up here all day." She leaned down and kissed Angela hard on the lips.

Angela tried to get Mary back under control, but couldn't talk. She inwardly cringed. Mary was getting more and more brazen.

Several days before Vonda had insisted on buying Angela some anklets, bracelets, and a necklace. They weren't precisely jewelry; more like little manacles than anything. Mary snapped each bracelet, anklet, and the necklace in place. 

Angela was going to be required to wear this apparel for quite some time, as Vonda had bought some ancillary implements to coordinate with and compliment them.

Last Mary helped Angela into a pair of shoes. First came the pink knee high stockings, and then the bright pink patent leather Mary Jane's. They were dainty little shoes, probably too tight to be comfortable, and their leather heels weren't meant for too much walking, especially on the spotlessly polished hardwood floors they'd have to navigate to get downstairs. Mary knew she'd have to hold Angela carefully as they traveled. 

Mary buckled each shoe in place. She adjusted each stocking, carefully wantonly rubbing the palms of her hands up and down each filmy leg. She rubbed all the way to Angela's crotch, and allowed her fingers to slip beneath the soft fabric of the romper. She tickled Angela's pussy again. She felt it, and knew she was getting damp. 

Mary looked more closely at Angela's crotch. She bet if she got any wetter she'd have a dark spot. Wouldn't that be something for the doctor and Vonda to see? 

Finally ready Mary looked over her charge one last time, "Angela you're beautiful. You look like a little doll."

Angela had nothing to say as Mary helped her to her feet and assisted her as they started to go downstairs.

Before they started to move Mary leaned forward and kissed Angela lightly on the lips, "I love you Angela. You're mine."

A Conference with the Doctor:

Mary helped Angela walk down the hallway and down the stairs. When they reached the first floor where the doctor and Vonda were waiting, Mary let her go, hoping she could make it the rest of the way on her own.

Angela had some trouble making it to the living room, but Mary had gotten her beyond the hardwood floors to the carpet so walking was a lot easier. It probably wouldn't have been a problem except that Angela hadn't been moving around very much lately, and her muscles weren't accustomed to the shoes and the movement. Though she didn't know it, the shoes had an added dimension, the soles were slightly concave, making it even harder to maintain her balance and walk.

She reached the sitting area of the living room and made her way to the sofa where she plopped herself down. As she plopped she realized she'd made a mistake. Without a bra, the sudden drop to the sofa gave her boobs the chance to bounce, something that didn't go unnoticed by the doctor.

The doctor saw her first, and looking at Vonda, "I see she's doing quite well considering."

Vonda acknowledged the doctors comment, "Yes, I'm glad to see there was no allergic reaction regarding her motor skills below the waist."

Vonda crooked her index finger at Angela, "Don't get too comfortable over there. Walk over here and kneel between me and the doctor. We need to check you over."

Angela struggling stood back up and made her way to the two chairs where Vonda and the doctor were seated. She knelt as she'd been instructed.

The doctor leaned forward and put his hand on the top of Angela's head. He moved it back and forth as though it were a ball, "She's OK around the neck. He glanced over at Mary while still pretending to examine Angela, "Can she move her hands and fingers yet?"

Mary answered, "No." She looked at Angela, "Show the doctor your range of motion."

Angela held up her arms to show the doctor she was still incapacitated from the wrists out. She kept asking herself, 'Why didn't anyone talk to me directly? I'm unable to speak, but I'm not suddenly this stupid thing.'

It was true everyone was behaving like she wasn't there, as though she lacked the intellectual facility to share what was happening to her. Everything, all questions, all comments, all conjectures were passed back and forth between Mary, Vonda, and the doctor. Angela could have been a dog at the vets. Angela wasn't a stupid person, but she was being treated like she was an imbecile.

He looked at Mary, "No progress I see"

Mary answered, "None yet doctor."

Angela head butted the doctor to get his attention. 

"Ouch!" He said. Looking at Vonda, "Vonda please tell her there's no need to get feisty."

Vonda looked at Angela, "Now stop that! Don't be so rude. I'm ashamed of you! Show the doctor you're sorry. Put your chin on his knee."

Angela had only wanted the doctor to talk directly to her. The idea of putting her head on his knee as a form of apology was unfathomable, totally unnecessary. Dogs put their chins on people's knees not humans. She sat back refusing to do it. 

Vonda looked at Mary, "Mary."

Mary stepped over and knelt beside Angela, "You shouldn't have butted the doctor. Now you must apologize. Show the doctor you're sorry by doing what your sister told you to do. Put your chin on his knee."

Angela refused to move.

Mary put her head real close to Angela, so close nobody could anything she said. As the doctor and Vonda watched Mary whisper to the woman they both saw her blush. She turned a bright red! Mary whispered a little louder "Please apologize."

Angela, though deeply embarrassed about something, still didn't budge.

Mary's look grew cold and stern, "Angela you know someone will have to punish you if you don't show the doctor you're sorry, please apologize."

Vonda frowned, "He's got several medications for you. I don't know if you deserve them now."

Angela looked at Mary imploringly, then at Vonda. She slowly leaned forward and placed her chin on the doctor's knee.

Mary smiled. She rubbed the top of Angela's head, "Good girl." She fluffed up Angela's pig tails, "Thank you Angela. That was a very good girl."

Angela gave her maid a simpering little half smile.

Vonda didn't smile. She knew they'd have to work on Angela's behavior. Her rebelliousness had to be crushed.

Angela didn't care. She debased her self for one reason. She wanted the medicine. She tried to say something but nothing came out.

Vonda shook her finger, "Don't waste your time trying to talk. I have something here that might help your voice, but I honestly don't know whether you should get it after the way you treated the doctor and embarrassed your family."

Angela gave her a pleading look. She degraded herself further. She placed her chin on Vonda's knee.

Vonda ignored her, "Since you can't talk, and your hands aren't active yet, we need to find a way for you to communicate."

Angela nodded her head up and down. Maybe she was going to get something.

Vonda reached behind the sofa and pulled out a small bag. She patted the floor in front on her. "Come over here and squat on your behind."

Angela knew whatever was about to happen probably wasn't necessarily good, but she got herself around and plopped on her rump.

The entire time the doctor watched with ill concealed lust. The palms of his hands were sweaty. His ancient penis was engorged with blood, and he kept wiping the drool away from his mouth. He coughed once or twice, and tried to conceal the sputum by wiping it on his sleeve. 

The look of this beautiful young woman, kneeling in front of him, wearing a skimpy translucent baby outfit, breasts pressing against the top, nipples extruded, and the soft fabric slicing a groove between her vaginal lips was almost more than his old lascivious heart could stand. He watched as Vonda maneuvered her into one humiliating position after another.




Angela and Vonda Ch. 06



Vonda pulled several tiny bells from the paper bag, "Until you're able to talk with any regularity I've decided you should wear something that will enable you to let everyone know where you are all the time." She held up a pair of tiny gold bells. "I have several sets of these beautiful little pieces of jewelry." 

She held them in front of Angela and, using her fingers, allowed them to jingle in front of the woman. The bells were small, each only about one half inch in size. They weren't jingle bells like those used at Christmas. These were tiny cow bells, each with its unique shiny external shell and small resonant little clapper inside. 

As Vonda jingled the bells they emitted a distinctive high pitched melodious sound; not loud but certainly an expressive, sweet musicality that was impossible not to notice, "These little bells are just for you." Each little bell had a delicate little snap on the top. The snap was affixed to the bell housing with a tiny hinge. Wherever the snap was attached the bell would be allowed to swing freely delivering its beautiful tones clearly and unhindered. 

Vonda leaned forward and clipped two of the tiny gold bells to the front of the collar that was around her sister's neck. "Shake your head sweetie."

Angela refused, but, the bells being of such high quality, even her refusal failed to extinguish the faint angelic tune of each dangling bell.

Vonda repeated, "I said shake you head."

Angela shook her head and she, Mary, the doctor, and Vonda, heard the soft jubilant little jingle of the two tiny bells.

The doctor wheezed and coughed.

"Now hold out your hands."

Angela held out her hands, and Vonda affixed two additional delicate little bells to each wrist bracelet. She considered, how they looked like bracelets, but they were, in fact, manacles, cold, pitiless irremovable locking manacles.

"And now your feet please."

Angela sat further back on her rump and held up her feet. As she moved, as careful as she tried to be, the faint tinkling from her neck and wrists couldn't be missed. As her sister reached for each ankle Angela reflected on her degraded new status, and the mortifying to realization that wherever she went, no matter how careful she was, the constant sing song of the tiny bells was going to be a constant accompaniment, a reminder of her debased position in the household. Her only hope, her greatest expectation was the arrival of her husband Brandon, and his recognition of what his sister was doing to her, and his determination to end her humiliation. 

Vonda snapped two of the little bells to each anklet. "Now I want you to get up and walk around the room."

Mary moved toward Angela to help her up.

Vonda interceded, "No, let her get up on her own."

Angela's hands weren't much good, but she still managed to make it to her feet. Every move she made, every twist and turn was accompanied by the jovial little tinkling of bells. 

Vonda told her, "Walk across the room."

Angela gingerly made her way across the living room, as she walked every step was accompanied by the gentle tin tabulation of the tiny bells attached to the manacles that encircled her ankles.

Vonda commented, "That's good. Now whenever you're down and about someone will be able to hear you. If you slip and fall all you have to do to summon help is wave your arms, shake you head, and shake your feet. "Show us how you can do that Angela."

Angela had to shake her head, wave her hands, and last shake her feet back and forth. Every instance brought the delightful little jingle jangle of the delicate little bells.

Vonda continued, "Come over now, and let me give you some of this syrup."

Angela walked across the room. Every footstep was a tiny cacophony of musical sound. She knelt in front of her sister.

Vonda took a teaspoon and poured a small amount of syrup from a bottle, "Open wide. This is something the doctor has given us that he thinks will help you speak"

Angela leaned her head up and opened her mouth. Vonda took the spoon and poured in the precious droplets of liquid.

It smelled and tasted like cough syrup.

Vonda ordered, "Try to say something."

Angela opened her mouth to speak. As if by magic words came out, "I can talk!"

Vonda put a finger on her lips. "Be careful. The affect of the syrup is only temporary. It will allow you some limited conversational ability as long as the syrup is lubricating your throat. The doctor said he doesn't exactly know how it works, but it does have some limited utility. The doctor says you can only have two teaspoons a day, and every time, after you've lost your ability to converse you must drink a large glass of milk." 

Vonda added, "The doctor thinks your speaking difficulties will slowly abate, but you have to be careful."

Angela used the limited opportunity to talk, "Why do I have to wear these awful bells? Why can't I just carry something? And why do I have to drink the milk?'

Vonda stopped her, "The bells are necessary because you might slip and fall and lose whatever you might want to carry. The milk is needed to coat your throat after you've lost your vocal facility."

Angela persisted, "Why couldn't I carry something on a wrist, say attached by a cord, instead of these stupid bells." The last comment was joined by a slight crack in her voice.

Vonda answered, "You'll wear the bells because I want you to. I like them. I think they're beautiful, and they make a beautiful sound. With your bells on everyone will know where you are all the time. It's safe and easier that way. I can tell you need your milk now." 

She looked over at Marge, "Go get Angela a big glass of milk."

Marge was gone and back in a second.

Vonda handed her the milk, "Here you go."

Angela drank the thick rich tasting fluid.

Vonda told her to stop before it was all gone. "I have two pills here for you to take. These pulls are designed to help you regain your muscular skills." She handed Angela the pills.

Angela looked at the doctor, who smiled reassuringly. She took the pills, put them in her mouth and used the last of the milk to wash them down. 

Vonda took her right hand and cupped Angela's left cheek, "The doctor wants to examine you."

Angela squeaked, "Right here?"

Vonda answered, "Of course right here. Who's here, me, Mary, Marge, Dorothy, and of course the doctor. All these people know what you look like."

Angela gave her another pleading look, "But right here?" That was it. The medicine had worn off. Nothing came out after that except a few pathetic squeaks. What if one of the other workers walked in? The entire staff had been changed since she'd gone upstairs. She didn't know any of them. They didn't know her. What would they think of her? 

Vonda looked at the doctor, "She's all yours."

"Come here dear," said the doctor.

Angela squirmed and jingled her way to the doctor's chair.

"Open your mouth dear."

Angela opened her mouth.

The doctor took his hand and his fingers and looked back and forth at Angela's child sized teeth, "I think we should wait before we try molding any new caps. Let's let her get her voice back first."

Angela desperately wanted new teeth. She felt like a fool with the baby teeth they'd left her with. All she could do was look back and forth from the doctor to Vonda.

Vonda ignored Angela's silent entreaties, "I think you're right. And while we wait we'll limit what she eats to only those things we know will be least likely to cause infection." She looked back at Angela, "Sorry dear, hard foods, foods that require lots of chewing won't be good for you as long as we're waiting for your new tooth fitting."

Angela was stunned. She wondered what kinds of foods they would keep her on.

The doctor, ignoring Angela's obvious discomfort, looked at Vonda, "Quite right. Soft foods, and avoid spicy foods, any foods that require too much chewing. Lots of milk, whole milk, and cheese I think, anything that will coat her throat."

The doctor still looking at Vonda, "You were concerned about her breasts?" 

Vonda answered, "Yes. I think she has a polyp or some sort of growth in her right breast."

The doctor took his hands and started to unbutton the top of Angela's romper.

She backed away, jingling as she moved.

The doctor smiled reassuringly, "I am a doctor."

Angela sat still.

He completely unbuttoned her top and pulled it down away completely exposing her chest. He cupped both her breasts in his hands. He rubbed over her aureoles. He took his thumb and touched each nipple. 

Angela had been examined by doctors before, and she knew this was far more than necessary, but she didn't dare react.

The doctor continued to mask his fondling with brief noises, harrumphs, and musing sounds, "I think maybe you're right Vonda. Nothing serious, nothing out of the ordinary, but we'll check again in a couple weeks. If there's something going on we can easily remove it." Nervously he re-buttoned her romper top. 

Vonda looked at the doctor, "Check her vagina."

Angela turned blood red.

The doctor ordered, "Stand up dear."

There wasn't anything Angela could do but obey. She struggled to her feet, all the while the bells on her wrists, ankles, and neck jingling and tinkling. 

The doctor unbuttoned the bottom of the romper. He reached in with his right hand and felt around her labia. He touched her clitoris. He took his fingers and penetrated her vagina. He took his index finger and slowly wiggled it inside. He pulled his hand away, and patted her pussy, "She's fine, perfectly fine."

Glancing back at Vonda, "Why don't I check her anus while I'm here?"

Angela gasped, but couldn't get out any words.

"Excellent idea," said Vonda.

The doctor unceremoniously turned Angela around and looked at her peach. He noticed the slap and the pinch marks, "You've been slapped and pinched."

Mary interceded, "I was teasing with her upstairs before we came down. They're my fault."

"She hadn't misbehaved?" Vonda asked in a concerned manner.

"Oh no, replied Mary, "we were just clowning around."

The doctor took his finger and penetrated Angela's rear end, "No hemorrhoids, nothing out of the ordinary."

Angela flinched and jumped slightly in response to the doctor's intrusive finger. Every bell jangled.

The doctor smiled, "Oh my, we do sound musical don't we."

Angela was totally degraded, embarrassed beyond redemption. First he'd pushed finger up her ass, something nobody had ever done before, and then he'd made a joke of her degraded status. She wanted to die, or simply disappear.

The doctor looked at Vonda, "Well that's about it for today. Take care of our patient while I'm away."

Vonda thanked the doctor. He stood up, "I've got to go. I have other patients to see today." He leaned over and ruffled through Angela's pig tailed hair, "Take care of your self. Take your medicine. I'll be back to see you in two weeks."

While Mary walked the doctor to the door, Vonda looked at Marge, "You and Dorothy take Angela outside for a few minutes. Let her get some sunlight. I need to talk to Mary."

Angela wanted to stay, but before she could protest both Marge and Dorothy had her by the arms.

Marge cajoled, "Come on outside. I've got something I want you to see."

Angela glanced back at her sister. She knew she and Mary were going to talk about her. She needed to know what they were going to say, but Vonda wasn't going to allow it. She was a prisoner in what was supposed to be her house. 

Vonda Lectures Mary: 

Once Marge and Dorothy had taken Angela out of the room Vonda sat down with Mary, "Mary my dear you know Angela is totally unsuitable for Brandon."

Mary listened but offered no response.

"Angela's high strung, emotionally unstable, and now totally out of control. Still, we can't cut her adrift. Here's what I intend to see happen. First, I'm going to find someone more suitable for my brother; a woman who knows how to listen, knows how to take advice, and knows her place. You understand Mary?"

Mary nodded, but said nothing.

Vonda continued, "Do you know anyone with those personality traits Mary?"

Mary looked at Vonda, "Any number of people could meet those criteria."

Vonda gave Mary a deliberate stare, "You fit those criteria Mary."

"Me?" replied Mary.

"You."

"Miss Vonda I'm Angela's servant, her helper, her friend."

"You will continue to be all those things Mary. Then one day you'll stop. On that day you'll be her keeper, her matron, her mistress."

"Miss Vonda I can't do that to Angela. Besides she'll never agree to it."

Mary you'll do it. You'll do it because you love her, and you like playing with her. She's going to be your little Barbie doll. You'll dress her, feed her, care for her, and discipline her, and eventually she'll not only accept it, she'll come to love you for it."

Miss Vonda I can't do that."

"You want Marge or Dorothy to do it? They're more than ready."

"No I don't want Marge or Dorothy in charge. They'll hurt her."

"Yes they will, and from time to time I'm going to see that they do just so you'll remember."

"Miss Vonda please you shouldn't let them hurt her."

Vonda smiled, "That's up to you, but let's talk about something else now."

Mary sat back a little.

The doctor gave me a lot of information. Angela's speech and motor problems are only temporary, but I intend to stretch them out as long as possible, especially the speech problem. We're going to keep her to two teaspoons a day. Each teaspoon is to be accompanied by a full glass of milk. The doctor has explained the milk, but also being very fattening, it will add weight to our little girl. I want her to become a fluffy little thing. Cherubic if you will. Brandon doesn't like fat women. 

The pills she will be taking will do very little except serve as muscle relaxers and make her more open to suggestion. This added suggestibility we will use to your benefit. I'll explain that later on. 

Mary looked discomfited, "We're really going to hurt her aren't we?"

"Not really. What we're really doing is protecting my brother. Now look there's something else, "I have this balm I want you to rub her down with it each and every evening. Make sure you get a tiny bit inside her vagina. The balm is essentially harmless. It will increase the sensitivity of her skin, make her more amenable to your and Brandon's sexual advances." 

Mary started to interrupt but Vonda wouldn't allow it. 

"I know how you feel. I know all about you. Don't pretend. The balm will give her, and you, and Brandon more pleasure, at least for a while. I want some of this to go inside every night. It will lead to a vaginal rash, an infection. I have something in mind. Do you understand me Mary?"

"I think I do."

Let me go back over everything. We'll slow down the recovery processes, encourage her greater dependence upon your suggestions, make her want to be loyal to you as an alternative to the other girls, encourage a little weight gain, keep her well medicated, follow the doctor's orders about only soft foods, and keep her well salved. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

And no more yes ma'am."

"Yes Vonda."

"Now go tell Marge and Dorothy they're in charge for the next several hours, say five hours. You and I have to go out."

Mary nodded and left to talk to Marge and Dorothy.

An Interlude:

*

Poor Angela. She has no idea what's ahead. Even if she did there would be precious little she could do. Only Brandon can come to her rescue, but he's always so preoccupied.



Angela and Vonda Ch. 07



Chapter Seven

Marge and Dorothy Give Angela Riding Lessons

While Vonda introduced Mary to more details about the plans she had for her sister, Marge and Dorothy were walking Angela outside. It was beautiful day; sun high in the sky, the grass freshly mowed, flowers all neatly pruned, shrubs trimmed, truly a pristine setting.

As the three young women, two maids and the wife of the owner reached a rearward area Marge pointed to an object set idly beside several box shrubs, "Look Angela! Isn't that a remarkable thing to see?"

Feeling awkward in her slippery shoes; each hand held firmly by a maid she wasn't thinking much about what was being shown to her, and since she wasn't able to talk she couldn't have given an answer anyway. She did recognize what it might be. It looked like some sort of undersized wagon, or maybe a Chinese rickshaw. 

Marge dropped Angela's right hand and disappeared in the nearby shed. Dorothy led her over to the mystery object, "Shake your head if you recognize what this is."

Angela shook her head sideways, hating every shake as it prompted additional clamor from the constantly clattering bells on the collar around her neck.

Wrapping her left arm around Angela's shoulders Dorothy took her right hand and slaked it up and down her right breast. She gently flicked at the bells around her mistress's neck causing another little delightful jingle. She asked, "You really don't know what this is?"

Angela again shook her head in the negative. Again the horrid bells jingled and jangled.

Dorothy, rubbing her right hand up and down Angela's left cheek affectionately murmured, "This is a little carriage; your own little chaise. You know the kind someone might ride in while being pulled by a horse or a pony."

It was then that Angela recognized the purpose of the contrivance. She wondered what it had to do with her. But she knew better than to try to ask, even if she could. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be to her advantage.

Marge reappeared trundling along a pile of leather and metal, "Did you show her Vonda's new gift?"

"Sure did." replied Dorothy. "She didn't know what it was at first."

Marge dropped her pile of leather straps on the ground. They dropped with a loud clatter, "Everything was right where Vonda said it would be." She walked over to Angela who was being fondled by Dorothy, "Miss Angela?"

Angela turned to look at her other maid.

Marge smiled sweetly, "Miss Vonda bought you a little buggy so you'd get some exercise."

Angela didn't understand the purpose of the wagon, nor did she fully understand what Marge was talking about. Confusion was written on her face.

The maids looked at each other and giggled.

Marge giggled again and said, "We're supposed to exercise you. Put you through your paces as it were."

Dorothy picked up the pile of straps. To Marge she said, "I'll sort these out. You get her undressed."

Marge walked around and stood in front of her mistress, "Now stand still." She slowly unbuttoned the front of Angela's romper making sure she tickled and fondled each plump pear shaped breast as she did. She pulled her arms through the short sleeves, and then down until the entire outfit was lying around her ankles. Her face and mouth loitered near her mistress's crotch, breathing on it, making as if to kiss her soft nude rounded pubic mound, "Step out please Miss Angela."

Angela stepped from the romper. Other than wearing only her knee socks, shoes, and manacles she stood naked in front of the two women who were paid to wait on her, hired to be her servants. True, they were waiting on her in a twisted sort of way; attending to her, touching her private places, invading the crease between her ass cheeks with manicured nails, softy pushing an index finger against and slightly inside her peach, her anus. This was not what Angela wanted. She wanted to be treated like a person, an adult, not like some cherished pet, someone's toy.

To these two women, her supposed employees, she'd become their cuddly living figurine. It infuriated her, enraged her sense of self, her concept of personal identity. She was becoming a sex toy, a plaything to be used and enjoyed like one would a kitten or puppy. Angela was losing her sense of proportion. She was not a toy, not a pet. She was a person, a human being! Why wouldn't anyone treat her that way?

By then Dorothy had sorted out all the leather straps, buckles, hasps, and snaps, "Angela sweetie look at all the wonderful things you have."

Angela screamed in silent protest. She wasn't a sweetie! She was a person! She looked at the material lying out and around her on the grass. She knew instinctively what everything was for. She turned to run away. They weren't going to dress her up like she was a horse!

As Angela stepped to escape, Marge grabbed her arm, "Oh no, we mustn't try to run away. We have something much more important for you to do."

She was trapped! There was no escape. They were determined to further debase her, to continue her degradation, her dehumanization.

Dorothy, tickling her ear, whispered, "Angela when we're through today you're going to love us so much."

Angela looked at Dorothy with dread; she was convinced these two would do nothing to make her happy. Their delight was her misery.

Marge ordered, "Now stand still or we'll have to give you a spanking."

Dorothy giggled, "We're giving you a spanking later anyway. You just don't want one right now." Then to Angela's surprise she slapped her hand hard on Angela's left ass cheek. Almost immediately a bright red hand print started to emerge. 

Angela, in spite of her inability to talk, yelped.

Dorothy giggled again, "I love this. Angela you have the prettiest red hand mark." She slapped her again, on almost exactly the same place, only harder. 

Angela reached for her ass. The bells on her wrists tinkled gaily as she felt where her maid's hand had landed. Already the site of the slaps was warm, and she could feel her flesh tingling as she touched the welt rising at the scene of her mistreatment.  

Marge took a large leather belt. It looked to be about three inches wide. She wrapped it around Angela's waist and buckled it in the back, "There! You're first waist cincture."

Angela shuddered at the tightness and discomfort of the wide belt.

Dorothy pulled Angela around and latched two straps to buckles on the front of the waist cincture. Each strap was about three inches to the left and right of her navel, and had about two inches in width. Dorothy pulled each strap up and over Angela's shoulders. 

Angela felt Dorothy pull the straps down and buckle them to two other fixtures on the waist cincture in the back. They reminded Angela of suspenders. Each strap stretched out and around the outside of each breast pulling them inward more to the center of her chest but upward and forward as well. Her breasts were being compressed and pushed forward in a manner something like a brassiere would do, but this pressure had a more unnatural affect since there was no visible support, only the pressure of the straps. Even without being told to move, she felt and saw her breasts involuntarily bounce and jiggle. It was all very tight and uncomfortable, but she was helpless to do anything.

Marge took two more straps, each about the same width as those used by Dorothy, and attached them to the waist cincture just inside the places where Dorothy had done her straps. She pulled each down and between Angela's legs so that they straddled her crotch. She pulled the straps up from her crotch and behind making sure the straps spread outward on the outside of each ass cheek. She attached the back of the straps to the rear of the waist cincture, making sure they were pulled tight.

Angela looked down and saw the affect of these two strips of leather. Her outer labia were pushed outward, and her clitoris was being pushed out and up. It looked obscene. Her entire sex was exposed! 

Marge said, "Now walk around. Let's see if the straps between your legs chaff your skin."

Angela started walking. She felt the straps between her legs. She looked down in dismay. Each strap was outside a labial lip, and together they worked to press her labia outward, as if in greeting to anyone who watched. It was all so embarrassing. As she moved the straps stayed in place, but her labial lips undulated with each step. There was no chaffing from the straps, only the ever present feeling of their presence, but her labia were in constant motion, pressing and rubbing against each other, causing some nerve wracking titillation. At least the straps didn't scrape her skin, but they were certainly inducing a most profound sense of sexual urgency.

Dorothy asked, "Does it chaff?"

Angela shook her head no.

Marge announced, "Outstanding." She took each of Angela's hands and attached them to the sides of the waist cincture so that they were affixed to her sides. Each hand had perhaps two, maybe three, inches, of tiny chain between the cincture and her wrist manacles. She was thus able to move her hands slightly, enough to enable the gentle harmonies of her bells, but not enough to grant her any real freedom. 

Dorothy pronounced, "OK, over to the carriage," 

Her maids walked Angela to the carriage and stood her between two shafts that extended from its base. The maids, one on each side attached her wrists to the shafts. Angela's hands were connected to her waist and to the shafts of the carriage. She was almost totally unable to move her hands; she stood motionless between the shafts.

Marge walked in front of Angela. She was holding what Angela immediately recognized as a horse's bit, except this was smaller and clearly designed for a person. Marge held up the leather bit, and shook it. On each end of the bit clung another tiny bell. 

Oh no, thought Angela, not more horrid little bells! 

"Open your mouth sugar pie." cooed Marge.

Angela was determined not to let them put that horrid thing in her mouth. She closed her mouth and lips biting down tightly.

Marge smiled, "Oh come darling, that won't work." She took the fingers of her left hand and squeezed Angela's nostrils shut. She smiled at her mistress, and quietly waited.

Angela held out as long as she could, but inevitably she had to take a breath. As she opened her mouth Marge pushed in the bit. In an instant the object was deep inside her mouth. Marge pushed it back as far as it would go. Since four of her molars had been shaved down there was space for the bit to rest with minimal discomfort. Marge nudged and wiggled the bit until it rested firmly in the spaces provided by the shaved molars. Then she tightly buckled it to the back of her head.

The bit felt horrible. A thin piece of metal crossed over her tongue, depressing it against the bottom of her mouth. It was terribly uncomfortable, and she could tell it would make it harder to swallow. She shook her head hoping to dislodge it, or perhaps at least find a way to relocate it in some manner that might ameliorate the worst of the discomfort. Nothing she did helped! In fact her twists and turns only served to delight her 'would be' servants, as each movement only resulted in a cacophony of sonorous little jingles.

Marge grinned, "This is the simpler of your two head harnesses. We have another; a full head harness. When we use that it will fit over the top of your head. That one has blinders, and an adorable feathered crest." 

Angela cringed.

The two maids each took a length of leather and clipped them to the outer edges of the bit. Marge slipped back behind Angela and sat on the seat of the carriage. She yanked on the piece of leather attached to the left side of Angela's mouth, pulling her head to the left, "When I pull this way you turn to the left. Then she yanked on the right rein, "And when I pull on the right you go to the right."

Dorothy, who was standing in front of their mistress said, "Shake your head up and down if you understand."

Angela shook her head.

"Excellent." said Dorothy. "Now you're our little pony girl." Smiling she added, "Are you ready to start pulling Marge around in your carriage?"

Angela didn't know what to do.

"Come on shake you head up and down, so we know you're ready."

Angela was trapped, harnessed, and strapped between the shafts of a carriage, a bit in her mouth, and one of her maids seated behind her on a carriage seat with two reins in her hands. She shook her head up and down.

Marge happily called out, "Giddy up Angela!"

Angela didn't move. From behind she felt a crisp sharp swat on her bare ass! She had been smacked with a whip! 

Marge joyously called out again, "Giddy up Angela!"

Angela didn't need a second swipe. She started to walk forward. As she walked she felt the slap of the whip again.

Marge yelled, "Faster!" She snapped the reins, pulling Angela's mouth and face to the right.

Angela reacted in surprise. The snatching of the reins hurt! She started to trot toward the right, toward the house.

The whip slapped her ass again, "Faster!" She snapped the reins again.

Angela ran along. She still had her tight leather shoes on, and they hurt. As she ran the bells on her collar, wrists, ankles, and now her bit all resonated a merry little tune. She was mortified, humiliated, and embarrassed beyond all measure. 

Trotting along toward the house she saw the servants all watching from the windows. She was being humiliated in front of all the other people who were there to wait on her.

Marge ran her around and around while Dorothy watched gleefully. They continued their little party for nearly an hour. Every few minutes the maids stopped her and exchanged places. Marge had one type of whip. Dorothy had an entirely different kind. Dorothy's was smaller, and Angela felt that it had some type of hard tip on the end. Wherever it struck she knew instinctively it left a tiny open wound. Dorothy's whip was ten times as painful as Marge's. 

The two maids kept Angela at it for more than an hour. By the end of the time Angela was exhausted. 

Dorothy, being the last to ride, pulled the reins back forcing her to stop. She shouted, "Kneel."

Angela knelt almost gratefully on the grass, glad for even this brief reprieve.

Marge looked at her mistress, "Now you know what can happen if you misbehave." She started to dismantle the leather harness that confined Angela to the carriage.

Dorothy smiled sweetly at Angela, the woman she worked for, "We're going to take you inside and teach you some more new tricks. The tricks you're going to get inside will be a lot nicer. In fact, if you always behave, you'll learn to love what we're going to teach you next."

Angela, unable to talk, listened in silence. She very seriously doubted these two had anything nice for her.

Once she was completely free of the carriage and harness Marge took a six foot length of leather and hooked it to Angela's collar. Using the length of leather as a leash she walked her mistress back to the house, tugging on it every now and then almost causing the poor woman to stumble and fall. Her legs were tired and sore, and her ass felt like it was on fire from the many snaps of the whips. 

They didn't wait. They walked her all the way through the house, in front of all the other servants, upstairs to her bedroom. Angela glimpsed the looks of her other servants. She knew none of these people. They didn't know her. She saw their looks, looks of pity, as though she were some dumb animal, a retard. It was mind numbing, crushing, for she was certain that was exactly what Vonda wanted all of them to believe. They were being programmed to look upon her as some sort of subhuman creature, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to change it.

Angela Gets a Special Set of Lessons in Her Bedroom:

Inside the bedroom, Angela completely nude, was told to lie down on her stomach on her bed. Dorothy took a bottle of ointment and started rubbing a cleansing soothing balm all over her body. She was particularly careful to get all the little whip marks on her back and rear end. None of them were especially deep or long, but she bet they all hurt. Dorothy delighted at the sight of the little welts all across her mistress's ass. She reflected on how her ass had quivered as she walked and ran, and how her muscles flexed with each bite of the whip.

The salve felt good on Angela's tired and aching muscles. It had an especially soothing effect on her poor posterior where Marge and Dorothy had been so merciless. Angela had never been so humiliated. She'd seen how all the servants in the house looked out the windows as Dorothy and Marge pitilessly flipped those nasty whips. She must have looked ridiculous; harness straps pushing her breasts forward bouncing rhythmically as they made her dash around the yard, her pussy out, wet and shiny from perspiration, and all the while those dreaded bells jingling rhythmically. 

While Dorothy massaged her aching body Marge asked, "Angela did you ever hear of a man named Doctor Grafenberg?"

Angela, still unable to talk, shook her head no.

Marge added, "We have a special surprise for you. Dr. Grafenberg has done research on womens' bodies, and he's made some very interesting discoveries. Dorothy and I are going to share his discoveries with you. In fact, we're not only going to share some remarkable new things with you, we think we'll be able to show you how you'll be able to talk without needing that awful syrup Vonda gives you."

Dorothy, still gently rubbing added, "Would you like that Angela?"

Angela shook her head in the affirmative. Her inability to talk was weighing on her heavily. Because she couldn't talk, people treated her like she wasn't around, like she was invisible, or worse, like she was some kind of dog or young child. If these two could help her it would go along way in helping restore some of her lost self esteem.

Marge looked down on her harassed mistress, "I want you to roll over on your back. I want you to relax. Don't think about anything. Imagine you're at the beach. You hear the sea gulls, the pounding of the surf. You feel the cool ocean breeze as it wafts over your naked body and through your freely hanging hair. You're completely at peace with the world."

Marge lay down beside her mistress. Knowing that Mary had been taking extensive freedoms with Angela's body already, Marge did the same. She took her right hand and gently stroked each soft fulsome beautiful breast. Softly kissing her ear she whispered, "You're a harem girl resting on soft pillows and silken sheets. You're surrounded by slaves all nearby only to do your bidding, to caress your skin with fragrant unguents, to swath your delicate skin with the intimate kisses of slave's fingertips wandering over your dark aureoles, extruding nipples, and into the moist canyon between your labia, a slave slowly waves a feathered fan overhead.

Dorothy watched Marge a little jealously, "I bet her boobies would look even nicer of they were pierced. We could put little rings through each nipple, and then attach a bell to each ring. Then she could make music by just shaking her upper body."

Marge admired Angela's almost magnificent body; her perfect breasts, all rounded and firm, her beautiful heart shaped ass, now deliciously marked by the whip. She especially admired the delicacy and purity of her pubis, so completely denuded of hair it was truly perfection. 

She added, "We could pierce her nipples, and her pussy too. We could put a ring though her two outer labial lips, and attach a ring to that."

Angela was mortified. The overheard remarks of having her nipples and pussy pierced awakened her from her reverie. Those were the kinds of things done to women of the lowest status, whores and Middle Eastern slaves. Having her nipples and pussy pierced was the last thing she wanted to have happen. 




Angela and Vonda Ch. 07



Dorothy said to Marge, "We better not. Miss Vonda might get mad."

Marge interjected, "Yeah, I think she wants to do that herself."

Angela looked at her two maids in horror. Did Vonda plan on further mutilating her body? She reflected rubbing her tongue over her greatly diminished teeth how the dentist had already caused her enough anguish.

Both maids continued to massage their mistress. They had a special treat in store for her.

Marge rubbed her hand down around and over Angela's pubic mound. This wasn't done just for fun; this was a part of a special training exercise. When she and Dorothy were finished this evening they were convinced they would have their tired, beautiful, pliable mistress well on her way to new levels of sexual gratification, and hopefully a new degree of dependence on them and not just Mary and Vonda. 

Both Marge and Dorothy knew their mistress was a sexual wanton. After all, they'd been the ones to change the sheets when Brandon was home. They'd seen the stained sheets and under things. They knew how much Angela enjoyed being cuddled and fondled. They also knew they had it in their power to so thoroughly enhance her sexually so as to give her a new carnal awakening; a kind of emotional sexual renaissance. 

Dorothy kept rubbing her with the cream, but more and more, ever so softly and gently, she devoted more energy to Angela's more private areas.

Marge crawled down and spread Angela's legs outward. She told her, "I'm going to do some things to you no one has ever done before. You're to lay still." 

At first Angela tried to resist, but Marge wouldn't let her.

Marge took her hand and started firmly rubbing Angela's pubis. She pressed down gently at first, but soon she was pressing harder. As she started to add pressure to her pubis she took her other hand and gently pushed one finger inside. She was careful not to be too harsh. She'd covered her fingers with a kind of special oil, grape seed oil. 

Marge took her finger and started to gently rub the inside of Angela's puss. She used her finger to pull out and up, slowly at first, but with more force after a while. She wanted to put pressure on that soft part of Angela's upper vaginal walls.

Dorothy kept massaging all over her body. As she massaged she whispered, "It was necessary that we whip you this afternoon."

Angela arched her head, and looked at her would be servant incredulously.

Dorothy continued talking in a low soft whisper, "Everyone thinks Marge and I are two sadistic bitches." She smiled as she kept massaging, "That's partly true, but there's more to it than that."

Angela was listening, but in almost total disbelief.

Dorothy whispered, "We know you're in a hell of a lot of trouble, more trouble than you know. We're not averse to a little discomfort, but what Vonda has in store is totally uncalled for. We want to deflect the worst by being sweet to you when it's just the three of us." She smiled, "We're your Fairy God Sisters."

Angela wanted to ask why they felt they had to whip her, why so hard, and why they seemed to enjoy it so much.

It was as though Dorothy read her mind, "Out among the other servants, for their consumption, we have to be mean, but with you alone we can be what we want. It was a charade Angela. We're sorry it had to happen that way."

Angela was enjoying Dorothy's ministrations, and Marge was causing her to feel awfully good. She was prepared to believe anything these women said at the moment. Hell she thought, 'What difference did it make? They could do whatever they wanted anyway.' She knew one thing; Marge was starting to get to her.

Marge's fondling, or cuddling, Angela couldn't decide what to call it, was starting to affect her in ways she'd never experienced before. She felt warm and wet, and she was beginning to feel like she needed to pee. She took her hand and tried to push Marge's finger from her vagina. 

Marge whispered, "Relax Angela. You think you have to pee, but you really don't." She pushed in a second finger, and started to seriously pull up and out inside Angela's vagina. Angela was wet inside, and the movement of Marge's fingers started to create a certain degree of suction. The insides of her pussy started to make a squishing sound. It turned her on even more.

Angela was hot, and the pressure and pulling of Marge's fingers was starting to seriously trigger the release a lot of nervous energy. She started to squirm. She wiggled and wriggled, trying to escape the delightful presence of those two fingers. It was a deliciously alarming feeling. The jangling of the bells stopped being a nuisance and started to become an added erotic stimulus.

Marge kept pulling, lifting, and rotating her fingers inside Angela's puss. The more she did it the hotter she got. She kept squirming, twisting, and writhing on the bed. She knew she was incredibly wet inside. It felt so good! She felt like she was going to have an orgasm!

Suddenly Marge pulled her fingers from Angela's vagina and thrust them inside her mouth, "Suck my fingers. Suck your vaginal juices off my fingers!"

Angela, surprised, started sucking. Dorothy had applied some of the oil to two of her own fingers and had picked up the massaging inside her vagina where Marge had left off. 

Angela was out of control. She couldn't stay still. She kept writhing, twisting, bouncing, quivering, and turning. Every movement was greeted by the now welcome sound of her musical bells. It felt so good! It even sounded good. She was so hot! Then suddenly, no not suddenly, but swiftly, she started to experience an orgasm, an orgasm like none she'd ever experienced before. It rolled over her. She went wild. She couldn't stay still. Dorothy's fingers were driving her crazy. Her whole body was afire! 

She'd had many clitoral orgasms. They were always hot, but seldom lasted for more than a few seconds. Even then they seemed only to be concentrated in that one small spot, her vagina and clitoris. This was different, far different. She was having an orgasm, but it was all over her body. Every part of her flesh seemed extra sensitive, sensuously tender, hotter, and nervous. It was like she was having a full body nervous spasm; a withering welter of wave after wave of physical highs. It was unbelievable! 

It didn't help that Dorothy kept nuzzling her neck under her chin, or that Marge was kissing her breasts. Marge had one hand in her mouth, but Angela felt the other slipping under her back and squeeze down to her ass. 

Dorothy kept nuzzling with her mouth and tongue, while her fingers kept up their rapid massage inside her vagina. Marge was kissing her nipples, and she'd pushed a single finger in her rear end. That new finger in her ass explored upward slowly, and put added pressure on her vaginal walls.

Angela, still, sucking Marge's fingers, yelled, "Oh my God!" She went over the cliff. She had the wildest; most mind boggling orgasm of her life, and still it kept coming on. She was going to have a second orgasm. It was there! Wow! She had another, and then another! She couldn't stop! She was completely out of control. Dorothy's fingers were driving her absolutely mad! 

Angela screamed. She yelled, she cried out! She spoke! Dorothy's two fingers in her vagina and Marge's single finger in her ass were pulverizing her with sensual stimulation. Angela found herself on sensory overload! 

The two maids kept Angela in a state of sexual frenzy for more than thirty minutes. Angela felt like she was losing her mind. Every few minutes the two women would change hands. One would thrust her fingers in Angela's mouth to suck, while the other resumed the vaginal stroking. 

They kept pulling inside her body. She felt the insides of her vagina swell up and squeeze against the fingers. As her vaginal walls swelled she squeezed her legs tightly together; arching them in and down. The finger in her ass pressed heatedly against the lower insides of her womanly cavern.

The maids crushed her pubis and its internal walls in their hands. They rubbed over her oily sweaty breasts, chest, ass, and stomach. They kissed her face, her neck, and occasionally took their fingers out to kiss her on the mouth. Angela had never, ever, had so much close personal attention. It was maddeningly wonderful.

As Angela called out, moaned, and sometimes just tearfully cried, Marge gave her a warning. "Angela." She said, "Say nothing to Mary or Vonda about this." She added for emphasis, "Promise."

Angela reached for Marge's head and pulled her close, pressing her maid's face into her bosoms. She whimpered, "Oh I promise, I promise." 

Then, after what seemed like forever, the two maids both leaned back and watched. They were delighted at how well their mistress had responded.

Angela, without anyone touching, kept having heated orgasm after orgasm. It was like she couldn't stop. She felt like she had to pee. She didn't care. She let go. She didn't pee though. It was something else entirely. She had the most thrilling, most exciting, most electrifying orgasm of her life, and even then she kept bucking, squirming, and having orgasm after orgasm. 

Fluid did escape; quite a lot of fluid, but it wasn't urine. It was a urethral excretion that only occurred when a woman had reached the most extreme peak of sexual gratification. Most women never experience it, but Angela did, again and again. Angela's cruel maids, her midday tormentors, had given her the greatest sexual experience of her life, of any woman's life. 

The two maids watched. They were delighted. They'd proved the theory of the G-Spot, and they'd given this poor woman the sexual time of her life, and they'd figured out the secret of Angela's voice loss. As long as her throat was lubricated with something oily or viscous, she was able to converse, or talk. It could be the pungent syrup the doctor had given her, it could be her own sexual juices, and in fact it probably could be almost anything that had some level of natural viscosity. 

Marge and Dorothy weren't stupid. They'd worked this out together. They'd found something for their mistress. Even if they were supposed to be sadistic bitches, that didn't mean they really were, at least not totally, after all, everyone enjoys it a little when it's somebody else in pain. 

They'd done a good thing. They were convinced Angela would remember. Angela was a rich woman in her own right. There would be a reward; they knew it.

Together the three women lay down on the bed. The two serving women lay on either side of their captive and gently, but firmly, rubbed her sides, her breasts, her tummy, and her pubis. Each repeatedly kissed their wanton dependent on the sides of her face and her neck. They refused to let their woman, their charge, their child woman have any rest. 

Angela was still quivering from her sexual experiences forty minutes later. Marge and Dorothy were smiling and at peace. They'd hurt, then they'd loved their mistress, their ward. They were sure it would pay off in the end. They understood what Mary and Vonda were doing; the drugs, the isolation, the constant declamations of everything Angela said and, the polite but insistent refutation of her adult persona. Without rescue, without the intervention of her socially foolish husband, or some other intercessor Angela was doomed.

Eventually Angela fell off to sleep. The two maids left her on the bed, immersed in her own sexual juices and covered in perspiration. They quietly got up and went back downstairs. They'd been expected to torture Angela with the harness and the carriage, and they'd done that. Vonda and Mary would be home soon. Marge and Dorothy would have to give a report.

Mary Has More Gifts for Her Increasingly Childlike Mistress:

It was later, much later before Mary and Vonda got back home. Vonda had spent much of the afternoon and evening prepping Mary on what her future role was to be, and how they would engineer Angela's settlement into new routines and a new life. Mary felt uncomfortable with the things Vonda had planned for Angela, but she was reservedly pleased at how the outcomes would affect her. She was to commence the next phase of program that very evening.

She climbed the stairs and called out, "Angela darling! It's me. I have something for you."

Angela had been lying on the bed enjoying her latest discovery. She found if she took her hand, she could squeeze two fingers up her vagina. By pumping up and down real hard and fast she was able to bring herself to this new kind of orgasm. Not only that, but she could cause multiple orgasms, and with no side affects. It didn't hurt and it didn't seem to get too sensitive. Even better, she could take the juices from her pussy, lick it off and the oils or whatever so lubricated her throat she was able to at least whisper. It was like she had found a new drug, a new addiction.

Considering what Marge and Dorothy had inferred, even if they hadn't come right out and said it, Vonda, probably with Mary's silent support, was deliberately trying to slow her recovery. With her new discovery she could increase the speed of her own recovery, and have quite a bit of excitement along the way.

Mary opened the bedroom door, "Angela did you hear me? I have some new things for you." She plopped down on the side of the bed and started pulling things out a plastic bag, "Look what Vonda got for you to wear."

Angela saw the first of the new gifts. They'd gotten her a pair of pierced earrings to go in her earlobes. She didn't like then, and she didn't want them.

Mary held up the earrings and jingled them, "Look! Now you've got bells for your ears too."

Angela wanted to tell Mary what she could do with the belled earrings, but dare not. She had the limited ability to talk. If she revealed this information to Mary, they might find a way to prevent her from having the pleasure she'd been experiencing most of the evening. She did the next best thing. She held up her hand against the new ornaments and shook her head no.

Mary cajoled, "Come on Angela sweetie. These are really nice."

Angela tried to back away, but Mary held her by the arm, "Angela you have to wear them. If you refuse Vonda will only punish you."

Angela was sure Mary would love that. She stopped fighting back and sat still. 

Mary looped the earrings through Angela's earlobes, "Shake your head sugar."

What choice did she have? She shook her head. The new bells gave off the same offensive jingle everything else did. Would they ever stop?

Mary wrapped her arms around the woman in her care, "Now I've got another special treat. You understand the doctor is tightly regulating everything you eat. You mustn't have all those oily greasy foods, except whole milk."

Angela sat stoically, listening. She didn't care. She only wanted Mary to leave so she could touch herself some more.

Mary cupped Angela's face in her two hands and kissed her, "I've wangled a way to give your taste buds a new special treat." She reached deeper in the bag and pulled out another small box. 

As the box opened Angela saw what looked like candy inside.

Mary picked out a small piece of what was obviously white chocolate and held it in front of Angela's face, "Here baby, take a bite." 

Angela bit into the chocolate. As it started to melt Angela felt a strange new sensation take charge of her body. She started feeling fuzzy and lightheaded. If the taste of the chocolate was electric, the resultant delicious rush was like forty thousand volts! A profound feeling of warmth; of well being rushed over her! It was as though all the troubles of the world, all her anxieties, her worries, fears, and insecurities were being wiped away. She'd never felt this good in her life. Excepting perhaps her earlier feeling she ascribed to Dorothy and Marge, this was the most remarkable event of her life. She was afraid she might swoon!

She looked at the box and indicated she wanted some more.

Mary put up her hand, "No honey, this is a special treat. Only once in a while."

Angela could have said something, but was still in enough control to hide her rediscovered voice. She looked at the candy box, then at Marge, and gave her a pleading look.

Mary was adamant, "No Angela. You have to earn each piece." 

It wasn't ill then she realized her mistress was stark naked, and the bed was soaked with her sweat and her other body moisture, "Have you been playing with yourself little girl?"

Angela realized there could be a problem. She vehemently shook her head no. By then the wave of euphoria from the tiny piece of candy was wearing off. She was, once again, fully aware of her difficult circumstances.

Mary saw the change too, "What if I gave you another treat? Would you tell me the truth then?"

Angela looked at the candy box in anticipation.

Mary saw the eagerness, "No I guess we better not."

Angela grabbed Mary's hand and started shaking her head up and down.

Mary asked, "You have been playing with yourself?"

Angela nodded.

"You shouldn't do that, you know."

Still looking at the box, Angela nodded again.

"OK," said Mary, "since you told the truth, I'll let you have another piece." She reached in and got an even smaller piece out. She held it in front of her mistress's face, "Ready?"

Angela nodded.

Mary held the piece out.

Angela reached for it.

Mary pulled it back, "No, let me put it in your mouth."

Angela sat up straight and held her mouth open.

Mary dropped the piece of fudge on her tongue.

Again, in seconds, Angela experienced a delicious surge of euphoria only the most powerful hallucinogens could provide.

While Angela sat in her blissful state, oblivious of the world around her, Mary got up and started straightening the room, "We have to get you ready for bed." She went to the cupboard and pulled out a short baby doll nightgown, something that could be slipped over the head and worn in complete unfettered comfort. 

Angela held her arms up, Mary dropped the nightgown down over her head. She helped her mistress climb under the covers where she tucked her in, "Good night my angel. I'll see you bright and early."

Mary quietly went to the door, turned out the light, and left the room. Even before she left the room she could hear her mistress readjusting the covers and reach between her legs. She thought, 'this was too good to be true. Marge and Dorothy had done their job extremely well.'

A New Routine:

Over the next several days, Angela couldn't be sure if it was a week, maybe longer, a new kind of routine began to unfold. Each and every morning Mary arrived with her breakfast. It always consisted of the same tasteless porridge. She guessed sugarless cream of wheat, a large glass of milk, and a piece of white bread, sans crust, covered in butter. 

Even though she'd recovered most of her hand and wrist skills, Mary still insisted on feeding her. Spoonful by spoonful she fed her each and every morning, always concluding the meal with her two pills, and an occasional sip of throat syrup. The syrup was irrelevant. Mary never stayed long enough to allow her to talk, and by the time anybody else came in it had worn off. She, of course kept the secret of her vaginal juices to herself. No one must know that secret except her, Marge, and Dorothy.

Lunchtimes weren't any better; just more monotonous fair. Always there was a simple hot sandwich, on the same bread with gravy, always a tasteless piece of meat, and always the same large glass of whole milk. 

Dinner was the same, with one exception. The nighttime meal included the same milk serving, and some thick bland broth. However, each evening meal was accompanied by a piece of the white chocolate candy. It was the only time when Mary seemed relaxed and happy. She'd make Angela beg for the candy, sometimes she'd make her sit up like a dog, but usually she just made her kneel and look pleadingly. The candy was special, and Angela came to look forward to it with an increasing sense of need. Dinnertime, like all her other meals, Mary continued to insist on feeding her.




Angela and Vonda Ch. 07



All her meals followed the same monotonous script. Mary brought everything in on a tray, and placed it on a small child's table. Angela knelt on the floor, ass resting on ankles, hands folded in her lap under the table. Angela would bow her head, while Mary said grace. Then Mary took the food and either cut it up into bite sized morsels to be fork fed, or she'd ladle up the soup or porridge, spoonful by spoonful. If anything was spilled or dribbled from Angela's mouth, Mary reliably made a great show of stopping, getting a napkin, and wiping the other woman's nightgown and face. Every spill and every wipe was accompanied with its own unique remonstrance, always condescending in tone and maternal in content, and always Angela was expected to apologize for the spill and be thankful for the wipe and criticism. 

Around mid-morning each day two new maids came in. They remade her bed, changed the sheets, and fluffed the pillows. Each day they drew her bath, and each and every day, as they left one or another, either Marge or Dorothy, came in and bathed her. 

She'd noticed some subtle but significant shifts among the serving hierarchy. Mary no longer wore anything even remotely like a uniform. All her clothes were top of the line designer outfits, like what she, Angela, once wore. Usually she had on some designer dress, fully made up, and high heels, or occasionally she wore an expensive blouse with a pair of equally rich looking pleated slacks. 

Mary was dressed as though she were the lady of the house, the way Angela used to dress, and always her hair was kept in a tight bun, and she always wore some piece of jewelry Angela recognized as having once been hers.

Mary seldom talked to her as an equal, always as though she were a child; Mary was the adult, Angela the little girl. Mary had several pet names for her 'one time' mistress. She was either 'my darling, 'my little angel, or sometimes just 'sugar'. When she wasn't talking down to her, she was stiff and formal. 

Marge and Dorothy wore their own similar garb; never any type of servant's uniform. Their attire was always of the casual, relaxed genre, loose fitting jeans, T-shirts, tennis shoes, and an occasional sweater. 

It was Marge and Dorothy who dressed her each day, and each day her clothing was like the day before, always a simple baby doll nightgown, day and night, never anything different except the color. They were the ones who made her up, if that was what it could be called; always a tad of red lip gloss, some bright pink cheek blush, and for some unknown reason a tad of dark brown henna on the end of her nose and the outer edges of her nostrils. She didn't like the henna because it never completely came off, and after the first day or two it seemed like her nose always had faint traces of brown on the tip. 

Of course the girls took great pains to keep her fingers and toes manicured, her pussy thoroughly shaved, and her hair in two tightly braided pig tails each with its own large bow. She was always thoroughly washed and oiled with the same scented balm. 

As the days dragged by, Angela was never allowed to leave her room. There were no magazines, books, or even pamphlets. There had been a television, but that had been taken out the first day. There wasn't anything for her to do except sit or lay around. To her chagrin, after the first several days, Mary started to bring in toys. They weren't really toys, only stuffed animals, some equipped with changes of clothes. Mary encouraged her to use her time to facilitate her recovering hand and eye coordination by dressing and undressing the stuffed animals.

The windows had been sealed shut, but were too high to see out of anyway. Every time she looked around it seemed like her room was more cluttered; filling with over stuffed pillows, loosely piled silken scarves, socks and shoes, and little glass figurines Mary liked to bring in. Angela's cupboards and closet where her adult attire was stored were all locked shut.

The only thing that kept Angela from going stir crazy was her ability to masturbate. Thanks to Marge and Dorothy she'd learned how to get herself off in such a way that the experience could last for hours. In fact that was all she did all day every day, masturbate, rub and tickle her vagina, and listen to the damn bells around her neck, on her wrists, ankles and the new ones hanging from her ears as they jingled and jangled all day and all night.

She stopped thinking about Brandon. Vonda never came upstairs, and that was all right with her. There was no place to go, nothing to do, nothing decent to eat. The only things she had to look forward were the one lousy piece of candy, and what she could do with her fingers. If she did think she only ended up fantasizing about things she wasn't allowed to see or do, like wearing real clothes, eating real food, and being free.

Eating, sleeping, and masturbating in her little room, her little golden cage, Angela couldn't imagine how things could possibly get worse. She had no idea.

*

Note: Of course, your comments, suggestions, reactions, and criticisms are most welcome. Please don't hesitate. Feedback is most welcome.



Angela and Vonda Ch. 08



Brandon had been away for what seemed like to him an eternity, but at last the biggest parts of his most recent business ventures were completed. He was tired, ready to get home, enjoy some time hanging out, see his sister, and enjoy his wife. He pulled up the long driveway, got out of the car, and walked through the front foyer. It was good to be home.

He'd phoned ahead, and Vonda was there waiting for him, "Brandon, it's so good to have you home again. I got your e-mail. Everything worked out to our satisfaction I see." 

Though stiff from the long plane ride and the after airport grind he was glad to see his sister. He gave her an affectionate kiss on the lips, "I'd say pretty much; I'd say everything went well. You said there was something important to talk about regarding things here." 

"Come on back where we can talk privately." Vonda started back toward the den. She'd been planning this conversation for some time. It wasn't something she was looking forward to, but she realized, with Brandon home, it was something that had to be dealt with. They strolled back together, arm in arm, as brother and sister are sometimes inclined to do.

They took seats, side by side, in the quiet partially darkened room. Thick leather upholstery, heavy mahogany tables, wall shelves line with volume after volume of richly bound books, many first editions leant the place an aura of opulence.

"Brandon," Vonda began, "You're my brother. I love you more than my life."

He heard the tension in his sister's voice; what was about to come would be serious, "And I love you."

"We have a name in the community; a reputation for fair dealing, honesty, and for charity."

"That we do."

"Nothing must ever be allowed to undermine our good work, our good name, the things we've accomplished, and the things we stand for."

He answered, "Nothing."

"Brandon you know how long we've had our doctors. They're like a part of the family. Why our dentist and personal physician owe their careers, their large practices, their lives to us. You know how heavily dependent they are on our good graces."

Not sure what she was driving at or where this was going he agreed, "That's certainly true."

"I'm afraid our doctors have let us down. Placed us in an awkward position one might say."

"How so?" he asked.

It was time for Vonda to begin to weave her spell, to surround her beloved brother with the things she knew he needed to hear, the facts that would prepare him to understand and accept, even welcome the decisions she believed had been forced upon her. After all, they'd lived together, grown up together stood side by sider together against external forces that had been intent on destroying that special relationship they'd created. All their lives it had been just the two of them; two of them against the world, just she and Brandon. 

She was there, had always been there to stand watch, to guard, to protect him. Sometimes she'd had to protect him from things he didn't understand. Sometimes, as had become increasingly apparent with his erratic wife, she'd been forced to intercede and protect him from his own decisions. She had to explain the actions and decisions that had been made in his absence.

"Brandon we both know your wonderful young wife has always had a mischievous, dare I say, immature, even, if I say offhandedly, psychologically questionable, streak." 

"Yes, I know Angela's been a handful."

"Brandon she's been more than just a handful. She's become completely unreasonable. Brandon, we've had to go to great lengths to find ways to curtail her increasingly idiosyncratic behavior."

"Please explain."

"Early on Angela became increasingly uncontrollable when we went out in public. It got to such as extreme that I made the decision to curtail all her public access."

Brandon was listening. He half understood, but half doubted some of what his sister was saying. He and Vonda had gone through similar difficulties with their mother some years earlier. Their mother had become progressively more unruly; especially when he wasn't around. During the last months of her freedom she grew violent, insisting Vonda was trying top destroy her. Of course, he'd seen it coming. His sister had kept a written record, supported by their doctors, and underwritten by the comments of the household staff. He hated to think something similar was plaguing his wife, but Vonda's accounts seemed to point to a very similar direction.

"Brandon I conferred with our physicians. I have all the records, their opinions, their suggestions, their diagnoses. They all correspond with what had been my worst fears. I've had to tightly regulate what Angela has been allowed to do."

Brandon understood and agreed with the need to limit some of his wife's more unusual characteristics, but he'd come to understand them, he'd learned to love them. What others might see as oddities, he'd come to see as endearments, "I understand she has an eccentric streak, but I'm sure it's not that out of the ordinary."

"No it wasn't brother; at least it wasn't until she took on the responsibility for some minor surgery."

"Surgery?"

"Yes dear, you remember, everyone agreed Angela had a modest overbite that impacted her eating habits. We all thought, she thought, she needed a minor dental procedure."

Brandon didn't remember any overbite. He thought her teeth had been perfect, but he was open minded enough to accept what his sister said at face value, "I see."

Vonda went on, "Yes, but you see when she had the surgery there was an extreme reaction to some of the medications used to sedate her. No one knew she had allergies. There was a mistake, an accident. What was supposed to have been a minor readjustment resulted in a major overhaul of her dental situation."

Brandon listened with increased concern.

Vonda went into greater detail. She'd known her brother all their lives. She knew exactly what buttons to push, what things to say, and exactly how to say them. It was an old formula; a formula used countless times by countless people for a variety of reasons. First one told the target things they wanted to hear, good things, self rewarding things, the kinds of things that stimulated the production of dopamine. Then one followed it with frightening things, things that might induce the production of adrenaline. Then last, one introduced a solution, something that would restore the dopamine.

Vonda explained, "We had to nearly completely shave her teeth down, down to nubbins, it was a difficult thing to do; that doctor had to shave her teeth to child like sizes." She watched her brother's reaction, "Brandon we had to do it. The medicines, the allergies, the procedures all called for it." 

Of course, what Vonda had ordered done had been totally unnecessary. She had ordered the procedure because she knew it would erode her sister's sense of personal well being. She wanted to so undermine her sister so as to render her helpless, childish; completely dependent on others, particularly on her sister. Vonda was a cruel woman. Angela was her project. Like a child pulling the wings off of flies, an adolescent setting a cat on fire for Halloween, Vonda saw Angela as her personal toy, and she knew, with the right incentives, the right persuasive techniques, she'd make Brandon her accomplice.

Brandon was only moderately concerned about the teeth, "We can cap her teeth can't we?"

Vonda knew her brother, "Of course we can, and we will, but her reactions to the medications have been extreme. Her emotional equilibrium and her metabolic health have been up ended. We have to be careful."

She hesitated a few second, and then went on, "She's been behaving in very unusual ways. She'll act like a child one moment, and the next she'll be perfectly normal. She'll make unrealistic demands. She's prone to throw tantrums; sometimes she's completely out of control. She makes wild fanciful accusations!"

Brandon had been listening. He was worried.

Vonda closed for the kill, "Sometimes we've had to physically restrain her. Occasionally we've been forced to discipline her with spankings. She responds to that. She responds just as though she were a child; with tears and then contrition."

Brandon asked, "Weren't there other thing you might have done?"

"Yes," answered Vonda, "and with the help of our doctors and our mother's psychiatrist we've made some significant discoveries."

"How so," he asked.

Vonda digressed, "Angela has become very responsive to certain audible cues. She's learned to trust Mary implicitly, and Mary has been able to influence her with certain verbal and dietary rewards."

"What do you mean? What verbal, what dietary rewards?"

"Angela responds well to soft melodic sounds, bells in particular. To facilitate her responsiveness, and her composure we've affixed bells to her neck, wrists, ankles, and we've added belled earrings. Occasionally she's complained, but overall, we've found the soft gentle sounds of the bells very comforting to her, very calming."

Brandon nodded, "I've heard certain sounds have been used to placate, even control, certain genre of simian."

Vonda added, "Mary has been a blessing. Mary has such a soft voice, a gentle harmonious voice that tends to calm her down. Mary tells her gentle little stories, has pretty little chats, and sings soft children's tunes. They all seem to be very beneficial."

"I see," answered Brandon.

Vonda described some of the foods they'd been feeding her, "We've been feeding her lots of dairy products. She likes milk, and Mary has found a way to butter certain types of biscuits that Angela has become enamored of. Mary has also found a type of candy. We've added a mild hallucinogen to it, and Angela has come to crave it. The candy has become her most special treat. She'll do almost anything for it." 

Vonda watched her brother's eyebrows go up, "I can assure you the chemical additive is quite harmless. It's more like catnip than anything. There is no addictive aspect; only the apparent pleasure it brings her."

"She likes it?"

"She likes it a lot. We've come to rely on it to control her mood swings. Brandon I want to explain to you a great deal has changed. Mary has become a mainstay in keeping Angela in line. In fact she's become more a nursemaid, something like a mother, and the candy has been used to help motivate her to be more cooperative. "

"Maybe I better go see my wife now."

"Don't hurry. She doesn't know you're here. I suggest you rest up first. It's been a long trip, and I'm not sure you're ready for what you'll see when you go upstairs."

Brandon thought it over. Maybe a shower and a good nap wouldn't be such a bad idea. Brandon wanted to take a little time to think some of this through anyway. If everything Vonda had said was true; especially about their doctors, there could be some trouble down the road. He knew they'd need to protect their doctors, and that might mean reordering everything with regard to his young wife. He loved his wife. He wanted to keep her happy and content, but that might mean some adjustments.

They'd keep Mary on as a maid and a companion. He'd keep an eye on her. If Vonda was accurate in her assessment; maybe later Mary's relationship with the family might change. Maybe he could keep Angela, and use Mary too. He'd have to evaluate her loyalty. If she fit the bill she could become the family representative he'd married Angela for; that would mean something different for Angela though. 

The other two women they'd hired as maids would have to go. All the other servants had been replaced; it would be necessary to get rid of the last of the old staff. There would be a completely new order. The only people left from just a few weeks ago would be himself, Vonda, Mary, and Angela. He'd have to hire new people, or a new person, to help Mary, but there were many competent people, some he remembered from when his mother was alive. Everyone else was new; they knew who they were working for, and they knew next to nothing about Angela. If he felt he could fully restore Angela he would. If he couldn't then a new arrangement would be worked out. 

He imagined Angela wouldn't be that difficult. She loved him. They had Mary. They had the candy, and there were other considerations as well.

++++++++++++

After a good rest and a heartening snack Brandon went upstairs to see his wife; his loving, precious, beautiful, mischievous wife. Vonda had moved her all the way to top floor, to a room about as far back and out of the way one could get and still be inside. It was a room they'd used for their mother during her last, most desperate, years. It was on the small side, but not cramped, and it provided most of the amenities. Considering what Vonda had said, it was a good place for Angela. The only place more out of the way was the topmost storage area with a small gabled window.  He hoped it never came to that.

Angela's current room was pleasant, but not altogether luxurious. It had a bathroom, but he suspected Mary and Vonda kept it locked most of the time. There were windows, but as he recalled they stretched across the top, and were unobtainable without a ladder or step of some sort. Angela had windows, but probably couldn't look out of them, and she had a bathroom, but probably could only use at certain times. It sounded a little harsh, but was probably good discipline.

There were other aspects to the room that were less inviting; after all it had been a warehouse where an insane woman had been held for several years, not exactly a prison, but prisonlike just the same. There were no handles or latches on the insides of the doors. The carpeting was thick and pink, and the walls soundproof, painted a light pink. All the other amenities, the bed, the spreads, pillows, linens, and other furniture, such as it was, were all pink as well. Psychologists had done studies about color during the 1970's, and found that pink had a calming affect on people.  

The bed was small by contemporary standards, a modified double bed; modified to have guard rails that rose well above five feet and slanted inward on an angle just steep enough to make them impossible to climb over. The head and foot boards were both six feet high. Once in bed, with the guard rails up the occupant was imprisoned within till someone came to release them. 

There was also a small lazy boy chair, but it was not comfortable at all. Its purpose was to serve more as seat for donning shoes and socks, or for a visitor to sit and keep a bedridden occupant company. The chair was bolted to the floor beside the bed.

There was a small closet, but the door was kept locked. Only a nurse, or someone like Mary or Vonda would have access. They would open the closet and choose the apparel Angela might be allowed to wear. 

There was a small cupboard too. It contained underwear; lingerie, socks, and make up utensils such as combs or brushes. Here again it was locked, and the keys kept only by Mary and Vonda.  

Brandon reached the door and very quietly opened it. Walking inside he caught the scent of jasmine, a good smell for Angela. He looked around. Angela was in the far right corner. She hadn't seen him yet. The room was cluttered with stuffed animals, quilts, pillows, and a variety of soft unbreakable objects, toys like small dolls and such. He saw no television, radio, or electronic device of any kind. Overall it was a stale lifeless environment that offered little in the way of mental stimulation. He realized she saw him.

Brandon smiled, "Angela."

She made as if to get up but changed her mind. Mary had forewarned her not to get up but wait till Brandon signaled. She sat sheepishly, legs folded under her like an Indian, "Hi Brandon."

He walked across the room, "What's the matter? You all right?"

She asked, "Is it all right to get up?"

He responded, "Of course."

She struggled to her feet.

While she groped her way to her feet Brandon saw the restraints and noticed what she had on. The first thing that accosted him was the bells. Like Vonda had indicated they emitted a soft delicate, he thought, sweet sound. He enjoyed the sound they made as she struggled to get up. He also noticed other things.

Angela was standing, "I've missed you Brandon."

He answered, "I've missed you too. Turn around. Show me what you have on."

Angela didn't want to restart her relationship with her husband by modeling the outfit Mary had dressed her in, but she had no other alternative. She slowly turned in a complete circle.

Brandon watched her as she turned. He saw the shiny stainless steel collar, the bracelets, and the anklets. They glistened in the soft half light of the inset overhead fluorescent fixtures. He saw the anklets; shackles actually, were connected by a short length of thin steel chain. She had only perhaps twelve inches of allowable movement between her feet. She might have been able to hobble over to him, but he saw one ankle was also connected to an eyebolt in the floor by perhaps another two, maybe three feet of chain. She was very effectively confined to one corner of the room.

Attached to the collar, each bracelet, and anklet was two tiny metal bells; a small bell adorned each of her ears. He realized it was impossible for her to move without inspiring some musical sound.

Her hair was brushed back in a pony tail and held in place by an attractive pink bow. She had short bangs, and little wisps of stray hair circled her face giving her a childish appearance.

She had on an interesting dress; actually more smock than dress. It was pink and it covered a pretty little blouse that had a ruffled peter pan collar and short ruffled capped sleeves that barely reached over her shoulders. It all looked very feminine.   

The hem of the smock barely reached hallway down her thighs. It was edged in tiny ruffles, a pink sash, perhaps five inches wide, circled her upper body just below her breasts. The width of the sash and the tightness of the bodice tended to press her breasts closely against her chest making her look smaller than he knew she really was. It added to the overall childlike look of the outfit.

He could tell she was probably wearing petticoats, as the lower portion of the smock flared outward unnaturally. He thought he saw lacy or perhaps ruffled panties underneath, he wasn't sure.

She had on white, what looked like cotton, stockings, and a pair of white patent leather, buckle shoes. He thought on each stocking he could faintly see a bright white bow affixed to the top in front.

She had on make up. Her face was set out in soft pinks and blues; pink lip gloss, pink cheeks, pale blue eye shadow, and slightly darker mascara highlighting her beautiful blue eyes. It looked like some additional pink had been dabbed on the end of her nose; it suggested a slightly feral look.

Clothing aside he could still see she was still certainly all woman. The bodice, sash and smock might camouflage her upper body, but they couldn't completely conceal her womanhood. Her legs were those of a fully grown woman, and he could see her rear was as round and supple as he remembered. If anything he thought she was a little heavier than he remembered.

Angela half spoke half whispered, "I'm dressed this way because I'm being punished."

Brandon raised an eyebrow.

"Vonda told me I was behaving like a child last evening when they came in to feed me so she paddled me and made Mary dress me this way for today."

"Paddled you?"

"Yes, Vonda uses a spatula to spank me when she says I'm bad." She turned around, lifted her dress and pulled down her panties.

He saw he'd been right about the panties. They were frilly with layers of ruffles. He saw the red splotches where Vonda had paddled her.

She added, "That's why I'm chained in this corner. It's a further punishment for talking back." 




Angela and Vonda Ch. 08



Brandon knew without saying the whole clothing paddling scheme was designed to lower esteem, increase dependency, and make her more malleable. If he allowed things to continue in this vein Angela would become his child wife, a very young behaving sexy little bauble. He liked what he saw, and enjoyed the way she was talking, but he wasn't sure that was what he wanted her to become.

"Can you try to come a little closer?'

Angela looked down at her left foot. She looked up at Brandon, and started taking baby steps toward him.

He smiled, "Never mind." He walked the short distance across the room to her.

She lifted her arms to greet him. They shared a warm affectionate kiss. He reveled in her softness, her delicate body. She had gained weight, and it added to her femininity. Her bells jingled softly, melodically, as they kissed. He reached under her smock and found her panties. He felt them; they were made of the softest silk and layered with tier after tier of filmy feeling ruffles. He pulled them down around her knees.

He realized he wouldn't be able to get her all the way out of her panties because of the way her legs were chained together, but that didn't bother him. He'd lived a monk's life for weeks; he'd take her doggie style. The manacles, chains, and collar he'd deal with later; right now he needed relief.

Brandon knelt down and pulled her down with him, "Get on your hands and knees."

Using her hands to steady herself on his shoulders she slipped to the rug, "Can you take these things off me?"

"First things first," he was incredibly horny when he came in, staring at his wife, a scrumptious piece of eye candy of there ever was one, had only made things worse.

Angela, on her hands and knees said, "You've got to get these things off of me. I've been chained up one way or another for I don't know how long. No one will tell me the time or even what day it is. I haven't left this room for I don't know how long."

He listened, he was sympathetic, but his first concern was his own carnal need, "Put your head down, and spread your legs and feet as far apart as you can."

She did as she was told.

He pulled her panties all the way down around her ankles. He brushed lightly over the red marks that had been left by his sister's paddling. He took two fingers and caressed the entrance to her ass. Later for that he, he thought. He leaned forward and kissed her where the cheeks of her ass curved together. He kissed her right on the center of her peach, her ass hole.

Angela whimpered and pushed backward against his mouth. Though she masturbated regularly, she was at least as ready as he was.

Brandon made no effort at any additional niceties. He dropped his pants and thrust inside immediately. He pushed in and out with no regard for her.

She pushed backward as hard as she could. She wished he'd slow down. Sure, unbeknownst to her the candy and some of the medications she been taking kept her in an almost constant state of semi-arousal, she still needed a certain element of foreplay. Brandon was offering nothing except his own immediate goal of self fulfillment.

He reached orgasm almost immediately; pouring his semen inside with abandon, but leaving her with a long list of unfulfilled expectations. This was their first encounter since he'd been back, and for her it was worse than nothing. It only served to make her more aroused. 

"Wow," he said, "that was terrific."

She minced, "I didn't do anything."

He answered impatiently, "Don't worry about it. There will be other times for you. You'll get yours later. Right now let's look at what you've got on."

Angela, realizing she wasn't to be satisfied, moved to a new subject, "Can you get me free darling?"

Brandon mistook the darling for what Vonda had warned as his wife's new manipulative nature. He looked at her collar, at the shackles around her wrists and ankles, "Tell me how they put these on." 

Angela gave him a pitiable look, not to persuade, but because that was really how she felt. She could tell it elicited no sympathy, "I think each circlet has one good hinge and at the other end an open ended hinge. I watched when they did my hands and feet. I had to place each hand inside the circlet. They closed it by taking a small rubber mallet to hammer it shut. Then either Mary of Vonda, they switched off, screwed in what looked like a narrow bolt. They used what I think was an Alan wrench to do it. After each bolt was in tight they took a file and scraped away the place where the wrench was inserted so I wouldn't be able to find something and undo them." 

"So each manacle is held together by two interlocking hinges."

"Yes."

"And the second hinge, the one you call the open ended hinge, was hard to fit."

"Yes, each time they made me hold my hands, my feet, and last my head on a piece of metal while they hammered them shut."

"But you saw them screw in the bolts?"

"Not actually saw, but I could sense it, and afterward I could see what they'd done."

He took one of her hands and turned it this way and that, "Yes, that's looks like how they did it. I can see the two hinges, and I can where one had a bolt that had its head filed."

She looked at him pleadingly, "You'll get me free won't you?"

This time he knew she wasn't trying to be manipulative, "This is high quality steel. Using a hacksaw wouldn't be easy, and I could cut you in the process."

"I don't care."

"It's a tricky deal Angela."

"You mean I'm stuck in these things?"

"You're stuck for now, but I think I could drill out the bolts."

She sighed, she felt relieved, it showed visibly.

He hadn't finished, "Anyone who looked at them would be able to tell they're not jewelry. They're too thick, maybe three eighth's of an inch. They're just too bulky, but they are attractive; in a punitive sort of way. I'd say as long as you're here in the house or on the grounds there's no imminent need to remove them; they'd only have to come off if you went out."

"Brandon please take them off. I've been made to wear them for weeks. They're heavy and they're uncomfortable. I feel like some kind of slave a kept animal right here in my own home."

He pulled her close; he kissed and squeezed her.

"Brandon, if you won't take off the damned chains at least remove these awful bells. I can't do anything without making noise. All night long I jingle and jangle; it's impossible to get a good night's sleep."

He kissed her again, "I guess I know how you feel, but everything you've got on is all new to me. I kind of like the manacles, and I think the bells are adorable," He kissed the top of her head, "Your my little girl, and I might add you make a fetching little pet too."

"Brandon, please."

He kissed her yet again, "Cut it out sweetie."

This was awful. She knew she was fighting a losing battle. He just didn't understand; being cooped up in a small room, constantly chained and restrained in one way or another, people finding excuses to punish her, and always the bells, the monotonous ringing and dinging day and night, "Could you at least get rid of the bells?"

He took the index finger of his right hand, putting it under her chin he lifted her head; "I like the bells. They have a pretty sound. A merry little sound I might add," he took his finger and tapped the two bells on her collar. They jingled gaily.

She whined, "Brandon that's all I hear. I'm so sick of them."

He tapped them again. They responded with their own insistent little symphony, "They're staying on, at least for now anyway."

She slumped down in defeat.

He pulled her chin, "Now sweetie, don't make me want to spank you too."

She sobbed, "I'm a grown woman. I'm not some child; and I'm not yours or anybody's little pet."

He lowered his voice, "Oh I think you are; at least until I decide what I want to do."

"Brandon you can't do this."

He stood back up. He pulled her to her feet, and raised her panties back up around her wrist. He ruffed her hair, "You stay right here for now. I'm going downstairs and talk with Mary about your situation. I want to hear what she thinks."

Angela shrunk back, "Brandon I'm your wife. Mary's only the maid."

He wasn't sure what to do so he played it like his sister had suggested, "That's enough," he turned her around, lifted her smock, quickly pulled her panties down around her thighs, and gave her one good smack on her ass.

Angela dropped to the rug in tears, "Oh Brandon."

He turned his back, walked to the door, using his plastic ID he opened the door and left. As he stepped in the hall he heard his wife sobbing. He closed the door and started downstairs to see the maid who'd taken on so many new responsibilities. 

Back inside Angela sat back on her rear and surveyed her surroundings for what must have been the ten thousandth time, "How did it get like this? There's nothing wrong with me. I'm a fully grown responsible intelligent woman. I'm not some idiot; I'm nobody's pet animal." She burst into tears again. She knew pretty soon she'd resort to her only release.

++++++++++++

Brandon found Mary downstairs cleaning silverware. She was dressed in a black silken maid's uniform; long sleeved with crisp white cuffs and a stiffly starched peter pan collar. She as wearing a vividly white waist wrap apron. The starched dress came to just above her knees. Her hair was done up in a tight bun. He thought she looked ravishing, "Mary have you got a minute?"

He watched her as she primly set aside her cleaning materials and wiped her hands with a clean cloth. She stood and walked over to a proffered chair. She sat on the edge of the seat. Eyes cast down in an obsequious but incredibly demure manner she responded, "Sir?"

"I've just left Angela and I've decided to make a few changes."

"Sir?"

"Yes, I'm getting rid of the manacles, the collar, and the bells. I want to start bringing her downstairs to my office, and eventually I want to start taking her out again."

"Yes sir."

"In fact, I'm going to set up a place in my office where she can stay while I work. I think, with your help we can get her back to where she was."

"Yes sir."

"I don't want any of the regular staff to have anything to do with her, only you and me. I don't want Vonda involved. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," she glanced up as if to speak.

He watched her as she looked up. Some of her hair had escaped her bun. It made her look vulnerable, it was subtly quite sexy. Though he'd just left his wife, he felt his manhood stirring again. 

She asked, "What about Marge and Dorothy?"

Her gentle question, the way she looked at him while trying not to make eye contact. Her heart shaped mouth. Those red lips; her dark brown eyes and long lashes. She had tiny ears; each one had an even tinier stud pressed discreetly in each lobe. She looked almost perfect. He imagined her in a black dress entertaining guests. Yes, she'd be good at that. He briefly fantasized about how she'd look in bed, "Don't worry about Marge and Dorothy. Send them in to me when we're through." He watched her give a tiny nod of the head. It was almost imperceptible; it evinced a subdued eroticism.

Mary peered up slightly, "Miss Vonda..."

He stopped her, "I'll talk to Vonda. If Angela needs exercise I'll see to it, or you will." He leaned forward and took her two hands in his. Her hands were tiny like Angela's. They were pink and clean even though she'd been doing silverware. Her nails were pure and lovely, well manicured and they had a light coating of clear polish. He looked more closely at her face. Her lips looked like they were slightly puckered. He thought she needed to be kissed. He reached out with his right hand and lifted her chin. He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, "Now go send in the two women."

Blushing, turning a bright crimson Mary whispered her reply, "Yes sir."

As she walked away to fetch the other two women she wondered what prompted his affectionate response. She liked it.

++++++++++++

Shorty thereafter Brandon conferred with Marge and Dorothy. He politely but firmly explained their services would no longer be needed. They would receive excellent references, and three months wages, as well as a continuation of their health benefits for an additional six months. He thought that was more than a generous settlement. The two women thanked him, and agreed to be out of the house in twenty-four hors.

Next he got on the phone and called friend who was one of the heads of a sanatorium that had provided essential services for their mother. The man, Dr. Fielding, was available, and together they identified a woman, a somewhat somber older woman named Ruth Vermillion who'd they get to move in and become Angela's most direct contact after Brandon. 

Dr. Fielding explained Ms. Vermillion was a semi-retired psychiatric nurse who'd done extensive work for them over the years. She was a quiet, prim; no nonsense woman who worked well with patient's whose behavior leaned toward the volatile. Though she was in her late fifties, Dr. Fielding explained she was in excellent health and skilled in the management of strong willed people. She'd be just the person; someone knowledgeable, patient, professional, and if a little wooden, certainly someone who could manage a willful woman.

With Marge and Dorothy set aside, and a new custodial nurse, his next job was to return to Mary and explain her changed role. He found her still cleaning silverware, "Mary."

She looked up, then away, "Sir?"

Meet me in my office a little later this evening, say 8:00 p.m."

Still looking down and away, she replied, "Yes sir."

He watched her as she continued with the silver. She moved swiftly and deftly; with a minimum of wasted motion. Even so he noticed the way her breasts moved with each twist and turn. The maid's dress fit her like a glove; every movement revealed something. 

He went downstairs, outside to the tool shed where he found a power drill, a small bit, and a length of electric cord; might as well do something about Angela. He hated to do it. He liked the collar, the bells, and the idea of it all, but she was his wife, she deserved better.

Back up the stairs, he reached her room, turned the handle and walked back in. 

++++++++++++

Shortly after Brandon left Angela had resorted to her one and only pleasure. She pulled her panties all the way down to her ankles, lay back on the pillows and rug, and started to massage her vagina. Thanks to Marge and Dorothy she'd learned how to maximize her pleasure. For some reason she found herself in an almost constant state of sexual arousal; it was not very difficult to find joy in touching herself. 

She had no idea how long she lay on the rug and pillows massaging herself; she knew she was wet with excitement, and very near a climactic moment when the door to her room was opened again. She looked over. It was Brandon. 

Brandon walked in and saw his wife masturbating, "Angela!"

She didn't know what to do. She was so close to climax she wanted to continue, but she didn't dare now that her husband was back, "Brandon!"

"What in the hell are you doing?"

She didn't know what to say. There were no excuses, "Well you left me!"

"Holy shit, you wanton little bitch! And I felt sorry for you! That's why I'm back. Look!" he held up the drill and the cord, "I was going to set you free!"

She tried to sit up, but her panties, wrapped around her ankles the way they were, prevented it, "Oh Brandon!"

He was furious, "Well you can forget that now! You're staying in restraint, and you're staying right here till I decide what to do you with!" Angrily, he turned and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.

Angela started crying. She'd done something stupid again. It was a crushing moment. What was she going to do? She lay back on the pillows and rug; after a few self deprecating moments she went back to her masturbatory activities.

++++++++++++

Brandon threw the drill, the bit, and the cord into his room. He stomped downstairs. His sister had been right. His wife was one sick woman. He'd have to rethink what he wanted to do; a new plan of action was called for, a different approach. He'd work that out over the next several days. Tonight, however, he wanted to confer with Mary. Yes, Mary. 

To be continued soon. 

Any comments And Or suggestions are certainly most welcome



Angela and Vonda Ch. 09



Brandon left his self indulgent wife Angela upstairs in her room. He understood now, he understood fully what his sister had meant. Angela had fallen completely under the control an array of self destructive behaviors. Maybe her dissolution wasn't completely her fault? Maybe Vonda had a lot to do with it? That no longer mattered. What did matter was the family name, their fortune, and what Angela might do if she were ever free to act rationally and independently. He understood, yes he understood; Angela could never be allowed out again. Her future, her life, her very soul, was now, as of today, fully and totally predetermined. They couldn't kill her; he would never allow that, but they'd certainly have to destroy her, destroy her independence, her self confidence, and her will. Angela had to be made into a hapless, hopeless, groveling idiot. If that meant total sexual self centered behavior, utter and complete emotional and intellectual ruination, and physiological as well as psychological devastation, then so be it.

He had the tools. He had the resources. He could confine and manage his pathetic little wife right there in the house for the rest of their lives. No one need ever know what they did, what happened, who she even was. He could do it. He had to do it. 

He walked into the rear parlor where Mary had been working earlier. She wasn't there. He scouted about the house until he found her. She was on the back porch, in the sun room, straightening magazines and chairs. 

Brandon looked her over. Mary was pretty, beautiful actually, but in a quiet soft way. Her complexion was clear and clean, eyes vivid, slightly almond shaped, long lashed and indescribably delicious. She had a smallish figure, though well hidden by the uniform she was wearing, he could discern nice breasts, a waspish waist, terrific posterior, and shapely legs. The soft sheen of the black silk maid's uniform accentuated her rounded breasts as they shifted and moved beneath the folds of the outfit. The long sleeves, tight fitting white cuffs, and stiffly starched white Peter Pan collar gave her a sexual allure far different from the childish, infantile, concupiscence of his emotionally diseased wife.

He approached her carefully, "Mary."

She turned around and saw him coming toward her, "Sir?"

"Come over here and sit down. We need to talk some more."

"Yes sir."

He began carefully. He'd treat her much the same way he'd treated his wife when they first met, as a fearful frightened fawn, "Mary I've been thinking."

She walked over and sat beside him on the divan, "Sir?"

"You've been a good and loyal servant. I admire that."

"Thank you sir," it was a soft feminine reply. He liked it.

"I've been thinking about you."

"You have?"

"Yes, from now on I want you to refer to me by my first name. From now on it's Brandon, Brandon and Mary. Understand?"

"Yes sir. I mean yes Sir Brandon."

"No just Brandon."

"Brandon."

He looked at her as she sat beside him. She looked as though she were ready to run, to flee. He had to be careful, guarded, "From now on you and I are going to be close friends, partners." As he spoke those words he took his left hand and rested it on the back of the divan, close to the back of her head.

She stiffened.

He smiled at her; a warm affectionate smile, "Yes, I want to be able to confide in someone. I'm afraid I need you." He took his fingertips and gently stroked the back of her neck. He watched as her hackles rose. He could see the goose bumps. That was good he thought. He had an effect on her.

She didn't move her head away. She answered, "I'm here if you need me." She said it in a soft somewhat frightened voice. She wondered if he knew how she felt about him. He was her dream, her idol, her vision. She'd do anything for him. 

Brandon continued to softly, tenderly caress her neck with his fingertips. He liked the look and feel of the soft fronds of hair that graced the lower part of her neck. He leaned a little closer, close enough to be able to talk in a low whispered tone, but no so close as to frighten her. This had to be handled delicately; she was a young deer, he was the hunter, "You look uncomfortable in that tight fitting uniform."

Mary made no attempt to move, "Oh, it's OK, I guess."

Isn't that collar uncomfortable?"

"It's a little tight, but I don't mind. I'm used to it, and Vonda thinks it's appropriate."

"Here let me loosen it for you." He leaned even closer, took his hands, and undid the top button, "there that's better isn't it."

"Yes thank you," Mary felt a swath of heat flow over her. His proximity was having its usual affect.

"Look let's get you relaxed," He took the next few seconds to undo the rest of the buttons down the front of the uniform, "here let me see those sleeves," he proceeded to unfasten the three buttons that trapped her wrists in each cuff. 

Mary sat stiffly beside Brandon; the front of her uniform completely undone, and the cuffs of her sleeves unfastened. She peered around at him out of the corner of her eyes.

Brandon took his right hand and held her chin. He pulled her face forward and softly kissed her lips. They were warm, soft, and dry. He saw she was wearing only the faintest traces of pink lipstick; all very innocent and alluring.

"Come on," he said, "let's get you out of this tight outfit. You look like a prisoner in some penitentiary." Without resistance he dropped the top of her uniform down around her shoulders. He lifted her arms free from the rigid constraints of the long stiffly starched sleeves. He gazed at the top of her chest and her undergarments. He knew it. She was wearing a silk camisole but no brassiere. Her breasts lay loosely, lightly, inside the camisole. It was white, silk; delicate silk lace partially concealed the tops of her supple pear shaped breasts, those perfect woman's orbs. 

She murmured, "No please."

He ignored her, he pulled the camisole down from her breasts; leaning down he pressed a tender kiss on each nipple. He took his right hand and caressed each one, carefully rubbing his palm around and over each aureole. Her nipples involuntarily pressed outward against his palm. She sat stiffly, as though she was pretending nothing was happening.

He kissed her more forcefully. This time she responded with a kind of tremulous feminine urgency. He could see her flushed skin, the soft sheen of wet warmth that was passing over her.

Brandon needed no further encouragement. He swiftly pulled the offending uniform completely away. He slipped the camisole over her head. She was wearing a half slip and white silk panties. These he pulled down below her ankles and off her legs. Last he pulled down her dark, charcoal colored nylon stockings and slipped her feet from their tight fitting black lace up high heeled shoes. In a few swift moves and short seconds she was beside him completely undressed, while he remained fully clothed. 

He looked her over. He studied her exposed defenseless body. She had a smooth flat stomach; not flat like an athlete's, but soft and demurely flat, and perhaps with just a hint of rounded soft fatty flesh. She had slight, gently, curved hips that swept deliciously outward from a narrow waist. She had small feet and hands with thin wrists and ankles all of which added a subtle sense of additional vulnerability, like someone who could easily be crushed or damaged. She looked delicate, fragile.

Of course her greatest treasure was her special woman's place that rested comfortably, secretly, between her upper thighs. She was tightly squeezing her legs together; trying to hide that most special delectable reward she wanted so much to guard. Still he could see a part of her cleft, the tops of her delicious labial lips, a handful of titillating wispy coils of brown hair that hinted at the sexual delights awaiting the man who laid claim to the fortress concealed within. He had to have it. He had to have her. He would be Sir Edmund Hillary, and her Mons his Everest.

He stood up, reached down and lifted her as though she were a baby. He carried her from the sun porch through the main house to the stairway that led upstairs to her back bedroom. He went up the steps, to her room, he deftly turned the latch, flicked on the light, and pushed the door open with his foot. He walked to the side of her small bed and sat her upon it.

While she sat on the bed he slipped his clothes off. He pulled her to her feet, pulled down the covers, and pushed her back on the bed. He lay beside her. He was surprised at how excited he'd become. Even after just having been with his wife, and he was fully erect. He rolled over next to the girl and started to kiss her mouth, her neck, and down to those two perfect nipples that sat so firmly erect, two engorged pinnacles atop two beautiful pear shaped fleshy mountains.

She returned every kiss he gave with one of her own. She whispered, "Oh Brandon."

He heard her, and he knew she wanted this as much as he did. Of course she did, he knew she'd been infatuated for some time. He was simply giving her what she had secretly wanted. It was easy with women; they all wanted the same thing, attention, tenderness, and affection. With a man like himself, young, strong, handsome, and sexually vigorous women were easily controlled and manipulated. Mary would be a good girl for him; work for him, do his bidding. If he were a pimp he would have his family crest tattooed on the back of her neck, his name over her vagina. He still might. He'd be able to use her in bed and publicly. She was just what he needed; a soft subservient, loyal, docile, but beautiful girl. Yes, he thought, he'd find a way to set the one upstairs aside, and use this one as his trophy, his wife, his whore, his object, his thing.

As he reached down and fondled her vagina he whispered in her ear, "I thought about you Mary, thought about you a lot."

She whispered back, "I love you Brandon."

He made a mental note, that's what he wanted, needed to hear. She'd be that much easier when it came time to re-engineer the life style of the one upstairs. He whispered back, "I care about you Mary. I cherish you."

She warmed to his touch, but she especially responded to his gentle voice, his loving remarks. She heard him; she felt his warm breath on her cheeks. He didn't say love, not yet, but she knew it was there, it was just a matter of time before he'd love her much as she loved him. She was his. She'd do anything, be anything, say anything, she'd become anything, go anywhere for this man.

He continued to stroke the outside of her Mons. Her crease was neatly trimmed, not shaved smooth like the one upstairs. Oh he liked a smooth clean pussy, but he also liked one with a woman's hair too. This one had the makings of a true woman, a woman he could use, show off, and be proud of, like a good dog or a good hunting piece. With the right training, the right discipline this one would be everything and more than the one upstairs could ever be. He thought about it; it could be fun to watch this one spread her legs for another man while he watched. Then afterward he could beat her for infidelity. 

He kissed her lips. He pressed his body against hers. He slowly, deliberately pressed his manhood inside her. She was tight, small, not used to a man's treatment. He was careful, but careful only up to a point. A man's machine had the ability to make a woman happy, but used in the proper way it was a constant reminder of her own woman's inferiority, her own vulnerability. A big hard erect rod pressing deep inside a woman's womb should cause some pain, some discomfort. It would remind the woman who the master and who the object was. He was the source of the power. She was the vessel.

He started slamming in against her, in and out. He felt her react with passion, but with pain as well. Yes he had her. She was his. This one, like so many others, was beginning to learn, to appreciate, the power of a man.

Mary lay beneath Brandon. She received his masculine power with a mixture of joy and suffering. This was what she wanted, what she'd dreamed about, what she craved. She felt fulfilled, loved, cared for, and complete. He was inside her. Yes, it hurt, but it felt good too. God she loved this man.

They thrashed back and forth, up and down, for what seemed like hours; actually it was only a few minutes. Finally he could control himself no longer. He plunged in as deep as he could. He felt that he'd reached the extreme of her vaginal cavity. He released his semen. He spewed his juices upward, inward, and deep inside her. He felt her react. She thrust her hips up against him. She shivered and shook. She whimpered. Yes, he'd climaxed, and he'd reached her too. She'd done it, done it all.

Brandon rolled off the girl, his girl, his acquisition, his newest piece of property, "I have to leave. I want you to get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned around and kissed her again, "Till morrow."

She kissed back, "I love you. I love you Brandon."

He tweaked her nose, "Till tomorrow."

She lay back on the bed, sheets in disarray, damp from sweat, her womanly fluids, and his semen all over her. She knew she should get up and shower. The stuff was sticky, but she decided to lay still; she'd go to sleep with his masculine smells and manly residue all over her. She loved the way she felt. It was too good to just wash away, to wash away the feeling, the sensation, the comfort of being held, caressed, loved, and cherished. His gooey semen felt sticky, but good on her soft skin. She fell asleep, happy, comforted, complete.

Brandon walked down the hall. He felt sore. He needed a drink, a shower, then maybe watch some television. The football season had begun. He liked to bet on the teams. He had no favorites, but he liked the risks of playing the odds. Next to closing a big deal and making a lot of money, a good bet was the greatest, and oh yes, sex was good too in its place. Yes, he liked sex; it reaffirmed his power, his ability to control, to dominate.

-------------------------------

Upstairs, alone in her tiny room Angela thought about her husband. She'd let him down. He'd come back in and found her abusing herself. If he only knew, only understood; she was all alone. All she had was Mary, her only friend, a couple of indifferent maids and then her body, her only release. She'd change, she'd get control of herself, she'd fight what was happening to her, she'd regain her poise, her sense of self. She'd show him she was still the woman he'd married, the woman he loved and respected. She'd get it together.

But oh she thought she was so desperate. She continued to rub her cleft, her hot wet engorged labial lips, she reached inside her vagina and squeezed the top of her clitoral walls. Oh she was always so hot, so horny, so ready. What was wrong with her? All she could think about was sex, the warm feeling she got when she rubbed herself, touched herself. All she could think about, every waking moment was how much she wanted, wanted, wanted the feel of her fingers, her hands, her fingers inside her pussy, inside her ass. She wanted, needed the feel of a man's body against her, inside her. She kept rubbing, kept groping, kept fiddling, fondling, squeezing, pinching teasing. The more she touched herself the more she wanted it. She'd reach a peak, have an orgasm, and no sooner than she'd climaxed than she'd begin to think about it again. She'd hold off. She could off for a while, but soon the cravings would return, the moisture, the heat, the hunger, the sensitivity would come back, and she'd have to do something.  

Often she was so sore it was hard to even contemplate touching herself, but the urge was always so strong, so intense. What was wrong with her? Were they giving her something? No, she doubted that. Vonda probably would, but she had Mary. Mary was her friend, her last resort, last resort until now, now that Brandon was back. Oh why did he have to come back in and catch her that way? She cupped her labia in her left hand while she used her right hand to push in and out of her ass. What was wrong with her? Where as Mary? She needed someone. 

When Mary came she would cradle her head in her lap, sing softly in her ear. She'd rub her back and the nape of her neck. It was a different kind of arousal. It was the same, the same sexual feeling, but coming from someone else's hands it always felt better, and Mary always knew how to touch, how to speak so softly, and she always had that candy. 

She wished she'd had another piece of that candy. It made her feel so good. She started to weep. Oh help me. Brandon where are you. She started to climax, again. Oh if she could only get to sleep. Why wouldn't someone take these damn bells off? Every time she moved they jingled and jangled, and it was like every soft tintabulation was a reminder of what she wanted, she needed. She started to cry. She'd just reached orgasm, and already she was thinking about it again. She rolled over and pressed her puss against the soft blanket. Maybe that would make it go away. It didn't. She reached down again.

==========================

Mary lay on her side. She thought about what had just happened, where she was, who she was, and she thought about the other woman upstairs. Sure she cared about Angela, but Angela was yesterday, she, Mary, was today, tomorrow. 

The bed sheets felt cold, dry, sticky, but they still felt good. This was where she'd fulfilled her greatest fantasy. She'd do what needed to be done. She'd take care of Angela, be good to her, but it was about her now, about Mary, Mary and Brandon. She pressed her head against the pillow where he'd had his head. She sniffed his manly aroma again. She saw a spot where his saliva had dribbled on the pillow case. She sniffed at it with her nose. She took her tongue and licked it. It was his saliva, his spit, and it was hers too. 

She curled up. She pressed against the pillow where his head had been. She took her two hands and started to rub them against her cleft. She touched herself. It felt good. She half hoped he'd come back. She was ready to do it again. No he was probably downstairs working. He was such a workaholic. She started to rub herself. She felt warm all over again. She stopped. She pulled her hands up to her face. She tasted her juices. She took her right hand and found a place where some of his semen had leaked out around her nether lips. She wiped them, and put her fingers to her mouth. She tasted his salty remains. It tasted good, a little strong. She wondered what it would be like to have him in her mouth. She slowly drifted off to sleep. This was love.

 Part Two:

The next morning Brandon was up early. He had several important things he needed to do. First he called the woman who'd been referred to him, a Mrs. Vermillion. Mrs. Ruth Vermillion was a semi-retired health worker; a woman in her early fifties who'd worked around people with varying kinds of emotional and physiological disorders all her life. At one time she'd been brought up on charges for one thing or another. 

The records his friend at the hospital had e-mailed indicated the woman had something of a criminal history; issues related to an overarching fondness for particular types of treatment procedures that could at the least be called fetishistic and at the worst downright sadistic, especially on the more cerebral level. Mrs. Vermillion seemed to be just the kind of health care giver Brandon was looking for; someone who would give Angela just the kind of attention that would best satisfy the needs of the family. 

She was reputed to be a brilliant woman, but given to an obsessive nature that occasionally betrayed her inner nature. In other words, she got carried away. Brandon thought, with Mary on hand she would provide just the minimalist type of restraint on the older woman that would enable her to work her special magic on Angela without going too far. 




Angela and Vonda Ch. 09



He got the woman on the phone, explained the unique circumstances she'd be dealing with at their house, made her a ridiculously high salary offer, one he knew would underwrite his unstated ambitions for Angela but would also insure her silence when she was finished. 

Mrs. Vermillion assured him she would be available within four weeks. First she had to complete the work she was doing, then, considering what he'd said about Angela, she had to order certain kinds of special paraphernalia that would be required in her work with their patient. Brandon agreed to sign off on any purchases she made. The two settled a few other minor matters such as Mary's position in the house, Vonda's situation, and all the legal guarantees the older woman felt she needed. He hung up the phone confident he'd made the right decision.

While Brandon discussed matters with Mrs. Vermillion he watched from window as the two former nurses Marge and Dorothy loaded their possessions into a rental car he'd provided for their departure. These were two women with histories of their own. Neither, he was sure, considering the generous separation bonuses and lavish letters of recommendation each had received would ever be a problem. Yes, they'd done their jobs, and done them well, but the train had passed them by. He had to move on, and to do that he had to move them out.

==================================

As Marge and Dorothy loaded the rental with their possessions Dorothy grumbled for the ten thousandth time about how they were being displaced for only doing what they'd been expected to do.

Marge had agreed silently all night with only an occasional nod or harrumph. Now however, once they were fully out of earshot she had something else to say, "Dorothy," she asked, "has it occurred to you that the plan we'd evolved involved the rescue of that poor woman upstairs there. That we had planned to get her out of the clutches of that evil woman Vonda and then persuade her, that is Angela, to reward us. Hell, let's remember Angela is a rich woman. Her rescue would have been our pathway to the good life."

Dorothy answered, "Don't you know it. Now I guess we're just shit out of luck."

Marge wasn't so sure, "You know girlfriend our little upstairs prisoner had a life before she came to marry and live out here."

"So what," answered Dorothy, "don't we all have past lives?"

"Yes, but I know something about our little hostage's past. She had a lover, another man, a man who really cared for her, but the stupid one upstairs was ambitious. She wanted too much. Now she's trapped, alone, and without a chance of ever escaping."

"So what, we're stuck too."

"Oh no we're not Dorothy dear; I know some things."

"Oh yeah, like what?"

"I know who her former lover is. I know where he lives, what he does, and I'll bet he'd still be interested in what our little Angela might be up to."

"You mean you think he might still care about her?"

"I don't know. I really don't care. But if he did, he might care enough to want to do something."

"You mean like help?"

"Maybe and then maybe he might want to show his gratitude to anyone who knew what we know."

"You mean like play Galahad, and rescue the trapped maiden."

"Well some men are still like that; the kind who love, really love, and will stop at nothing to save the beleaguered heroine."

"Where does this hero live?"

"All the way on the other side of the country?"

"Well that sort of does it, don't you think?"

"I don't know Dorothy. Why don't we use some of this money old smart ass Croesus gave us and pay the other guy a visit. Who knows? He might still care."

"Does this guy have name?"

"You bet. His name is Travis O'Donnell."

"Christ an Irishman."

"Who better? You know they're almost always the syrupy ones."

"Well Margie girl, it looks like a plane ride across country for somebody."

"You mean two somebodies don't you?"

"Yep, two somebodies."

Brandon smiled to himself as the rental car pulled down the long tree lined gravel drive. Yes, he thought, there go two headaches he'll never have to worry about again.

============================== 

Brandon used the intercom and called Mary's room, "Good morning sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

Mary blossomed. He called her his sweetheart, "Yes, I slept wonderfully. I kept dreaming I'd died and gone to heaven."

Brando smiled to himself, "No not yet. Get dressed and meet me downstairs in the breakfast room."

Mary answered, "Yes darling." She turned off the intercom and sped to the bathroom. She needed to shower, wash her hair, shave her legs, and re-trim her vagina, and then find something other than a maid's uniform to wear. She remembered Brandon, in the soft aftermath of their lovemaking, had told her to consider wearing some of Angela's things.

She rushed through her shower, gave her legs a slap and a promise, wrapped herself in a bathrobe and dashed down the hall and up the stairs to where all Angela's clothes were closeted. She ran inside and looked everything over. There were so many nice things she just couldn't decide. Finally she settled on a crisp white Vee-necked button up short sleeved blouse; a blouse with the slightest hint of lace trim on the collar and sleeves and the tiniest suggestion of capped shoulders. Beneath the blouse she put on a simple white camisole that held her breasts in place. She decided to eschew the use of a brassiere. She found some dark blue stockings, a pair of black patent leather low heeled shoes, and an equally dark pair of navy blue panties. Everything fit perfectly. Looking around the hangers she found the matching dark navy blue pleated mini-skirt, and slipped it on. 

She remembered watching Angela wear this very outfit once. The skirt was tastefully short, but of such a light weight material that the slightest wind caused it to flit and roil about. 

She stayed in Angela's old room; she looked over the other woman's make ups. She applied some soft pink eye shadow and pale pink lipstick. She went to work on her hair and tied it back in a tight pony tail. She looked herself over, and decided to redo her hair. She undid the pony tail and redid it in a tight bun. The ponytail was too youthful. It might remind Brandon of the other woman alone upstairs. 

In fact she checked the clock. The woman upstairs probably needed someone. She was probably hungry, and certainly lonely, maybe even a little desperate. Well Angela would have to wait a little longer. Mary readjusted her look and went downstairs to the breakfast room.

Brandon was there waiting for her. He'd been up and about fixing breakfast. On the table was a pile of scrambled eggs, some strips of bacon, several pieces of toast, two glasses of orange juice and two cups of coffee. 

Mary took one look and realized she was really hungry, "Mm, breakfast."

Brandon pulled out a chair, "Good morning Miss Mary."

She smiled sweetly and answered, "Good morning Mr. Brandon."

He thought, yeah, they all fall for the same lines. He added, "It's good to see you darling. I've been thinking about you all night." In truth he hadn't given her a moment's consideration, but he knew women liked to hear that nonsense.

She doubted if he had really spent that much time thinking about her, but it made her happy to hear him tell it. It made her doubly happy that what had occurred the night before wasn't just a flash in the pan. He evinced no sense of guilt or embarrassment about their prior night's love making. In fact he seemed mighty pleased. It made her even happier.

They both sat down and looked over the repast he'd prepared. He smiled, "You look nice this morning."

She smiled back, "So do you."

For the next several minutes they ate in silence. 

As they were finishing up, drinking their coffee Brandon gave Mary her instructions, "Starting today Angela is to believe you're my personal secretary. You'll be in and out working for me in my office. I prefer that she remain upstairs. You'll be the only person to care for her until another woman I've hired arrives. The other woman is much older, and has some very clear ideas about how to handle Angela." 

Mary only nodded.

He looked at Mary thoughtfully. There was something more he had to say, "Mary I'm very fond of you. I'd like it if you'd agree to stay on."

"Of course I will," she answered.

"No I don't mean stay on as my secretary. I want you to become a more permanent part of my life, a more personal part of my life."

Mary understood what he meant. She understood too that Vonda had intimated the very same thing. She knew it was wrong. Brandon had another woman. She was upstairs, upstairs even as they talked, upstairs all alone and probably a little scared, "Brandon I don't know what to say. What do you want?"

"Mary you know what I want. I've been watching you for a long time. Angela was a mistake. I know that now. I also know I can't abandon her the way she is. I'm fully prepared to take care of her, provide for her, keep her warm, comfortable, and reasonably happy. But I want you. I need you."

He reached over and took her hand. He pulled her over and sat her on his lap, "You need to stay here, with me." He drew her closer, allowing her breasts to softly press against his chest.

She felt his heat. She didn't want to do this, not right now, not while Angela was upstairs, "Brandon we can't do this now. I have to see about the girl upstairs." She refused to use Angela's name, and she deliberately referred to her as the girl, not the woman. It was her own little subterfuge, her way of helping Brandon distance himself from his wife. It was cruel, cruel to the woman upstairs, but Mary knew what she wanted.

"That's my girl," said Brandon. "You go see to Angela. I'll be in my office. For the next few weeks you'll be the only person seeing Angela. Don't overdo it. Two, but never more than three visits a day; one in the morning, one in the late afternoon, and maybe an occasional visit in the late evening just to make sure she hasn't hurt herself. Keep her clean, keep her in clean clothes, but she's not to be unfettered, not under any circumstances. Ration that candy you and Vonda invented carefully; not too much, but enough to keep her interested in it. You understand. I don't want her spoiled. If she says anything, tell her these are my instructions. Tell her I'm very disappointed in her, and I really don't want to see her."

"This is cruel Brandon."

"Not really. Her life has to change, but before it can change, really change, she has to be desperate, ready for anything. Cruel in the short term yes, maybe. In the long run, it'll be the kindest thing we can do. You'll see."

Mary put her hand on Brandon's wrist, "I'll do whatever you want. I love you."

"I know, and it's good you should trust me. I know what I'm doing. Hey, maybe later we can go for a walk or something."

"I'd like that," answered Mary.

They kissed; just a simple peck on the lips. Brandon went down toward his office. Mary started upstairs. She prepared and carried a tray for Angela. Angela had her own foods. Vonda had made arrangements that she be given certain things, things that had special extras infused. On the side of the tray Mary placed a piece of Angela's candy; the candy that had such a profound impact on the other woman's emotional state.

==============================

Mary made the first of what would become a regular pattern of trips to see Angela. She crept up the steps slowly, and opened the door. Angela was sitting up in the corner. She looked frightened, "Mary, I was afraid. Where have you been?"

"Don't be afraid Angela. I'm here. I'll always be here."

"Where's Brandon. Why didn't he come back?"

"Brandon's angry with you. He saw you, and what you were doing. He's ashamed and disgusted. I don't think he'll be back up any time soon."

"What about Marge and Dorothy. Is he really getting rid of them, and where's Vonda. I haven't seen anybody."

"Marge and Dorothy are gone. He paid them off yesterday. Vonda's is being sent away too. Brandon has hired a new person, someone older, more mature, to look after you. That person, I didn't get her name, won't be here for several weeks. In the mean time I'll be the only person you'll see."

"Brandon isn't going to let me out? He said he would."

"I don't know. I doubt it. He said you were to remain stabilized."

"Stabilized?"

"Shackled."

"Shackled like this?" She held up her hands to show Mary the manacles and the short piece of chain that held her hands and wrists together, "and this" She pushed out her feet to show Mary the ankle chains. Angela shook her wrist; the bells jangled, "What about these?"

"They all stay."

"Oh no, Mary you've got to get me out here. I can't face another day in this, in this place locked up like I'm some convict, a prisoner. I'm like a caged animal trapped in my own house, not even the whole house, just one tiny room in it. Mary please help me! Even a mongrel dog gets a run, a small space outside where they exercise. 

Look at me." She pointed up to the ceiling where the windows stretched like a ridge across the top of the wall. "I can't see out. I'm in an airless almost windowless box. I'm choking to death in here."

Mary walked over and sat down beside her one time mistress, now her ward, her prisoner, "It's not so bad. I'll be up every day, two or three times. I'll bring you your food. I'll clean you, change your clothes, make your bed, wash and comb your hair, dress you up, put make up on you, make you look pretty, feed you. You'll see, we'll have a good time together."

"Oh sure we'll have a good time. You'll come up. We'll sit around. I'll get fed that broth, get a piece of candy, and we'll talk. Then what? You get to play dolls. I'm the doll; you're the person. Mary I'm not some toy doll. When you leave I'm all alone, and I, I get to sit here all day, all day long, alone, no books, no television, no newspapers, no radio, nothing, just me, my chains, my god damn bells, and," feeling between her legs, "this, my twat."

Mary sympathized, but it didn't seem fair that Angela would take everything out on her, "Look if you feel that way I'll leave right now. I'm starting a new job today. I'm Brandon's personal secretary." She felt mean, and had to add, "See my new outfit for the first day? How do I look?"

Angela had seen the outfit, and she knew whose it was, "I saw it. I guess you're the woman of the house now, and me, I'm the nut case you'll all keep locked away upstairs."

Mary felt extra mean, "If you say so."

There wasn't anything Angela could say or do. She'd seen this coming. She'd hidden from it for some time. Vonda had planned it this way. She really was the imbecile upstairs. She really was the one they'd decided to lock away. It was too much to handle, not just one day since her erstwhile husband had gotten home. She dropped her head in her hands and wept.

Mary relented. She pulled the bowl of broth over, "Come on Angela. You've got to eat something."

Angela knew she was beaten, at least for the moment. This woman beside her held the keys to her sanity, or what was left of it. Why she could turn out the light when she left and leave her in the dark. Angela smiled wanly, "OK."

For the next several minutes Mary warily fed Angela her broth, spoonful by spoonful, careful to periodically stop and wipe Angela's chin. Once the broth was finished Mary asked, "Want a piece of candy?"

Angela looked up. She pretended to be more pleased than she really was. She wanted the candy. It gave her a mild mind rush, but she'd have preferred a pistol. She nodded, "Yes please."

Mary leaned back a little, "OK, here it comes." Mary held up the small sweet, heavily augmented, morsel. "Now, open wide."

Angela held her mouth open, and Mary dropped the candy in. 

While Angela chewed and swallowed the candy Mary explained, "I'm going to leave you alone for a while. I'm just a little angry with you myself. We're supposed to be friends, but you've been talking mean to me. I'll come back later after you've had a chance to think. I'll help you undress. We'll get you a nice bath. I'll wash you hair and do you up in pig tails. I'll give you some make up. I'll find a new outfit, and we'll dress you up like a real baby doll. How about that? Won't that be fun?"

Angela nodded her head. What choice did she have, "Yes Mary I'd like that. When you come back could I have another candy?"

Mary ruffled Angela's hair, "I'll bring another piece. If you're good, I mean really extra good; I'll let you have it."

Angela tried to give her a sweet smile, "Thank you Mary."

Mary got up, walked to the door, turned around "Till later then?" She blew Angela a kiss.

Angela reached out and pretended to catch it. The bells on her left wrist and around her neck jingled softly. She inwardly cringed, but smiled at Mary and blew a kiss back at her.

Mary walked out and closed the door. She thought about it. She wasn't really sure anymore if she even cared what happened to Angela. Angela had Brandon, at least on paper. She'd have to figure out a way to change that. She walked on down the hall. She and Brandon were going out for a walk. Maybe they'd walk around the rear of the house. She could look up and see the high paned windows of Angela's room. She'd be able to see from the outside where Angela was kept. Angela, being locked up wouldn't be able to climb up and look out. That was forbidden anyway. When Vonda saw her try she'd beat her with the spatula.

=================================

Downstairs Brandon found his sister, "Vonda it's time we had a heart to heart talk."

Vonda had been looking forward to this. She hoped she'd found a way to rid themselves of Angela. Then after a few weeks they could send Mary on, and it would be her and he, just like it used to be.

Brandon didn't even wait to sit down, "I want you to leave."

"What," reacted Vonda?

"Yes, it's time the two of us parted ways. I've already made arrangements to bring in a new nursemaid for Angela, at least until such a time I can legally institutionalize her. Meanwhile Mary and I are probably going to get married. She'll be my immediate cohort, my sidekick. That means you'll be in the way."

"In the way?"

"Come on Vonda. I know the truth about our mother. I know what you did. You drugged her up so much she went insane. I've got the medical reports to prove it; I've just had them sequestered. So you've got a choice. Get out now, or face charges. I'll have you thrown in prison for our mother, and for what you've been doing to my current wife."

Vonda started to object, but Brandon cut her off, "Don't act like I'm stupid. There was never anything wrong with Angela's teeth. That was a game you played to undermine her confidence. I've got the dental records," he got down to brass tacks, "Look you want to fight this; I'll have you in an institution. You want that?"

Vonda looked at her brother. He didn't get it. He didn't understand, but she realized there wasn't a damn thing she could do. She'd get out, sure, but in the end it wouldn't be her, it would be Brandon they'd lock away, "I'll leave. When do you want me gone?"

"I've set aside a handsome amount of money for you. You'll be one of the richest women in the country. When do I want you out? How about tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Sooner if you can make it."

"I'll leave tonight Brandon," she paused, "If you should change your mind you'll have my cell number."

"I won't change my mind." He walked away.

Later that evening, close to 11:00 p.m. Vonda was in her car headed for their private airport. She'd be gone, out of his life, and with luck she'd be able to start a life of her own. She wasn't too old to start a fresh. She thought it over. Brandon was mentally unstable; had been all his life. He wasn't driving her out; she was escaping. She was lucky. She remembered reading about the emperors of old Rome. Who was Drusilla? Her brother Caligula had killed her. Yes she was getting out in time. Too bad about Angela though, that poor girl has no idea what's in store for her, and pity poor Mary, she had no clue.




Angela and Vonda Ch. 09



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This is the end of part nine. Part ten is a few days away.