Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and as such, any similarities to real people, places or events are strictly coincidental. This work contains graphic depictions of a sexual nature between consenting adults. The story also refers to aspects of sexuality that may be offensive to certain people, such as humiliation and lesbian themes. If these topics offend you, then stop reading now, moving on to stories that you might better enjoy.
Kissing Cousins
is a multi-part work of fiction. Taking place in the late nineteenth century, it contains references to period customs and mannerisms and is written in a style closely resembling the age. This is the final installment of Kissing Cousins. I hope that you have all enjoyed the adventures of Elizabeth and Sarah. Please be patient as the conclusion is not as sexually driven as some of the other chapters, at least to start with.
Thank you for reading.
Saphhia
*****
Conclusion
The next many weeks were a blur, and I was hard pressed to even know what was happening to my poor cousin, Sarah. I began to feel desperately depressed. Eloise recognized this but offered little quarter in her treatment of me. Daily, I was walked and washed, my service to my Mistress continuing, as her dutiful and lowly sex dog. I continued to be waxed weekly, and Marjorie had noticed that my head was only needing very small attentions. It was a fact that delighted Eloise, but greatly disturbed me.
Each morning I could be found staring out the window at the barns, hoping to catch a glimpse of my cousin. I never did. It was as though she had been forgotten, by everyone but me. Finally, after weeks of whimpering and sullenness, Mistress finally dragged me out to the barns, but there was no way I would ever be prepared for what I saw.
The smell in the barn was stronger than I remembered it being, and there was no keeper in the vicinity of the pig sty. I was led up to the boards, and I found myself scanning the mud for any sign of Sarah. Barnard and Theodore stood in the corner of the pen, head to tail to swat away the flies, but my cousin was nowhere to be seen. The small pen that had offered her protection from the two behemoth hogs was gone, and I frantically searched for her, walking up and down, my nose poking through the rails.
I suddenly saw a small rise in the mud, which breathed. Buried beneath the surface of the putrid mud, was my cousin. I rose up, my hands rounding the top rails of the pen, looking down on her seemingly motionless body. "Sarah!" I yelled, knowing that my outburst would most certainly earn some ruthless punishment from Eloise. "Sarah!" I saw her hand before I felt it strike my face, brutally knocking me from my feet.
"Bessy, wicked dog!" I did not know what insanity overtook me, but I immediately lashed out at her, catching her entirely off guard. Losing her balance, she landed flat on her back, my full weight coming down upon her. Her breath had been stifled from her chest, my rage unbridled as I pummeled her face with my fists, not stopping until she no longer moved. Her mistake of leaving the pens unattended was her undoing. Would there have been an attendant, they most certainly would have stopped me before I had rendered her unconscious.
Frightened suddenly by what I had done, I dragged her into one of the adjoining pens, her limp frame face down in the dirt. I ran to the pigs' pen, throwing open the heavy gate. The pair of monsters came around towards me, but skirted my legs to gain their freedom in the yard. I prayed their escape would not garner too much attention, too soon. I floundered through the heavy mud to come to the aid of my poor Sarah. My attempts to rouse her from the mud only marginally successful.
"Sarah! You must get up, I have committed the most grievous act." Her mud-covered body rose from the sloppy muck, only to fall back into it's sticky grasp. "Sarah, if you are to live, you must rise, now!" Suddenly, she was standing before me, and the sight of her was frightening. Her skin was mottled where indeed it could be seen. She resembled her pen mates more nearly than any human form I could imagine. The giant ring that hung from her nose, bounced on her upper lip as she swayed, her unsteady gate evidence of her forced hobbling. "Come!"
I led her through the back door of the barn, and into the pastures beyond. Being completely unfamiliar with my surroundings, I was hesitant in my path of escape. We were both completely naked, and I had yet to consider this, my only concern to escape the immediate pursuit of the Markworth staff. I had no idea how severely I had injured Madam Eloise, but if she were dead it would have been so much the better. I knew we had reached the edge of the property, as there was a wall that cut clearly across the base of a meadow, a stream flowing just the other side of it.
We slipped into the frigid water, and knew that we needed to clean ourselves in it. I worked quickly with my hands to remove the mud and caked on muck that stuck so firmly to my cousin. Finally, after several minutes in the icy flow, I pulled us free of it. Upon looking on her I finally realized our predicament. Even if we were to escape, we were ridiculous in our exposed condition. Sarah, now cleaner than she had been in weeks, seemed ludicrous with her nose ring, so out of place on her now quite human face. What on earth were we to do?
Being away from Markworth, also left us exposed to whatever house or farm we came across. Be that as it may, we wasted no time, running across one field after another, finally coming to what appeared to be an abandoned building. It was an outbuilding of some sort, but had not been utilized in some time. We slipped inside, and found a myriad of rooms dividing the large building into small spaces. I did not know what we hoped to find among the metal scraps and empty tins, but we searched through each room.
"Elizabeth, you must do the unthinkable for me." Sarah rasped, holding out a blade which she must have found among the scrap. It was the first time she had spoken, her rough broken voice so far removed from the feminine song I was used to, that it nearly shocked me as much as the blade. "You must cut this away from me." She hung onto the hideous ring which was lodged so firmly through her nose. "You must cut me, here." I shuddered as she lifted the ring, exposing the thin strip of skin which supported the very base of her once delicate nose.
"I cannot." Repulsed by what she was asking of me, I shied away from her.
"It will not come out any other way, Elizabeth. You must." She raised the blade once again. "I would do this myself, but I fear I would be left poorer for the effort." I resigned myself.
"Come closer." For the first time, I examined the ring, which was of solid metal, save for a small seam, which was not sealed. Taking the edge of the blade, I was able to fit the edge into the seam, but my hands alone offered no challenge to its shape. What I thought to do was perhaps nearly as dangerous as simply cutting the ring from her face, but it offered a chance to keep her nose intact. I led her to a window ledge and managed to secure a heavy piece of iron, and as rust covered as it was, would hopefully deliver the blade through the seam in the ring.
Sarah's eyes were wide as saucers as she waited for the first blow from the ingot. With the first blow, she gasped, but the blade was forced into the seam, opening it slightly. The second and third blows only served to drive the blade farther into the ring, deeply embedding it between the arcs. A small bead of blood appeared under Sarah's nose, and I feared I may fail in my task. I knew that I needed to be strong with my next blow, for it was doubtful I would get another before the blade was buried to the hilt.
Sarah closed her eyes, as I raised the rusty iron high above my head, bringing it to bear against the back edge of the blade. There was a sudden snap, and the ring split on the opposite side from the seam, falling harmlessly to the floor. Almost immediately, she threw her arms about me, thanking me for not listening to her frightening request. Despite our desperate plight, her body felt warm and inviting against my own, such touching forever denied by Madam Eloise. I suddenly realized just how much I missed her closeness, my mind all but boxed away as a dog for so long. "I thought I lost you." I wept.
"And I, you, cousin." Her voice still surprising me, nearly male in its hoarseness. I prayed it would return to normal. I feared that a pursuit might have already begun, our escape surely being noticed long before. We carefully exited the building, and made for what appeared to be a small gathering of houses. What we would do when we arrived there, was well beyond us, but it seemed to be our only real option. Our fear of discovery was overpowered by our assured capture should we not proceed.
We slowly crept along the back gardens of the small village, seeking what could only be an opportunity to steal some clothing from an available line. Each garden was backed by a low wall, which was only just tall enough to disguise our movements. The houses grew closer as the wood behind us became thicker, encroaching upon them. Our luck seemed to be poor as we encountered no clothing being hung out to dry that day. Neither of us had any idea what day it was, but we presumed it to be a Sunday, as the local church bells tolled out a call, and the villagers could be seen making their way to the pews.
Could our luck be so good as this, if the entire village be at church? Braving the possibility of the most humiliating exposure, we fled our protective wall for the back stoop of one the houses. Listening inside, we heard nothing at all. No voices of children, no footfalls, nothing. My heart raced uncontrolled, as I checked the back-door handles, finding them to indeed be unlocked.
Once inside there was no more call to be guarded, for if discovered now, we may as well have been bold as bashful. We dashed into what could only have been a woman's boudoir, and an open armoire presented itself to us. Gowns and frocks crowded its hangers and we gleefully grabbed as much of the finery as our arms could bear. Our luck had not yet run its course, for perching as proudly as ruffed grouse, were two blonde wigs, setting atop a dressing table. We chuckled at our good fortune, but needed to make a hasty retreat. Settling on a gown and boots for each, and leaving the rest in a pile, we donned the wigs and ran for the back door of the house.
No sooner had we reached the safety of the wood, than the church bells again began to ring, signaling the end to any safe amount of time we might have been allotted. Helping the other, we each quickly dressed, but rather than appear in the village as thieves, we chose to venture deeper into the forest. It may have been a risky venture, straying so close to Markworth once again, as I knew we were. We were back and forth with each other, over our apparent good fortune. After so much hardship, especially on Sarah's part, we could not quite believe it.
What were the odds that we would stumble into a house with every accoutrement that was necessary to make us appear as normal women, and not the abhorrent slaves of an overbearing tyrant? The longer we were away from the confines of that estate, the more we knew that we both would rather die, than return to it.
