Chapter Seven
Marge and Dorothy Give Angela Riding Lessons
While Vonda introduced Mary to more details about the plans she had for her sister-in-law, 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.
