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.