Angela and Vonda

Poor Angela, trapped in the kennel and no one to rescue her. Her sister-in-law 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-in-law 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.