Angela And Vonda Ch 02

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-in-law.

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-in-law. "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.