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 in law. 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."