Issing Cousins

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 BDSM, consensual 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.

Enjoy!

Saphhia

Chapter Two

I had some trouble coming to terms with my encounter of the previous afternoon. Sarah had left me to my own devices afterwards, and I found myself wondering if it was all a mistake. Personally, I found the experience amazingly erotic. I held the flavor of her sex on my tongue for hours afterwards, a stark reminder of my act of sapphic depravity.

I had no belongings of my own, having surrendered them to Sarah on that first day. It was therefore necessary for me to borrow back my own things, to make myself presentable. Standing in Sarah's bath, I worked the sleep out of my unruly blonde hair with what used to be my favorite brush, before setting it into a bun as Sarah had instructed. Before this, I had never worn my hair in such a way, considering it unflattering. Wearing it down, afforded me too much privacy as it was quite long. She gave me two choices, cut it off, or wear it in a bun. Of course, I chose the latter.

One thing that intrigued me, was the way in which Sarah had removed her hair. It seemed so erotic to see her that way, and I enjoyed not being forced to sift through what would have been a thick red forest of hair. I can't have imagined enjoying it nearly so much, had that been the case. I saw the instrument that she must use to denude herself, setting on the shelf with the balance of my things. It was a man's razor, and had what appeared to be an ivory handle into which the blade folded safely and neatly. Braving what would surely be a scolding, I picked it up and examined it carefully. There was a short extension of the blade which curled so as to fit around a finger, I surmised. As I slowly withdrew the blade from its sheath, Sarah happened by and spotted me, immediately chiding my impertinence.

"Those are my things Elizabeth, and you have no business rummaging through them!" She closed the blade before possessively removing it from my hand. "Perhaps I made a mistake allowing you to use my things. I know you feel the need to make yourself presentable, but there is really no need. It is only the two of us here, correct me if I am mistaken?" I shook my head, still cowering from her chastisement.

"You are in the right, Sarah. There is no need." I stood awaiting her next belittling remark, but it never came. Instead, she simply circled me, as if making an inspection. I had yet to put my hair up, and I worried that she might attack me on that score.

"You really are far too pretty, Elizabeth. Too pretty for your own good, I think." She flipped the ends of my hair and I was terrified that she might cut it. I had always taken such pride in my flowing blonde locks. "I think we should cut all this off. What do you think?" My heart stopped in my chest as she spoke the words. I knew she had always been jealous of my beauty, but this would destroy me.

"Oh, please do not, Sarah. I beg you." I fell to my knees on the hard marble floor, literally begging her to spare me such an act. Tears fell from my eyes, splashing on the floor, and I must have reached her in some way.

"Oh, very well then!" She sprayed, exasperated. I do think she meant to cut it. "I do, however, think we should make use of this." She waved the razor back and forth like a pendulum, smiling in a devious manner. "Rest yourself against the edge of the tub and open your legs." She meant to shave me, and I was not displeased by the prospect.

She wet the wispy blonde curls with some rose water, which caused me the most exquisite feeling. It was the first time someone other than my husband had touched me, and it was very different. His was a deliberate act of intrusion, whereas Sarah's touch was far more delicate. Taking some lavender soap, she ran the bar over my hair until it frothed up like so much whipped cream.

Looking down at myself, I could not help but be aroused over being shaved. It did not go unnoticed. Even beneath the lather, Sarah could see the beads of excitement that formed through the soap. "I am pleased that you appreciate my ministrations, Elizabeth. Try not to allow yourself too much joy. I would hate to cut you." I immediately stilled myself, the thought of receiving an injury in such a delicate place frightened me.

Slowly and delicately, she lathed away my downy covering. She seemed incredibly skilled, and I thought that she must have been tending to her own needs for some time. I gasped as the razor slid down next to my labia, as she later instructed me they were so called. She would teach me many things to do with my own sexuality, but that would come later.

When she was finished, she had me slip inside the tub so she could rinse away the soap. Her touch felt heavenly as she ran her fingers over my flesh. There was absolutely no resistance, her barbering having been so precise. She guided my hand, and the foreign smoothness of my own skin caused me to shudder visibly. Helping me out of the tub, she dried me with a towel that she had used that morning. I could smell her scent on the damp cloth as it passed over my skin.

To my absolute delight, Sarah knelt between my thighs and brought her mouth to me. I felt every movement of her lips and tongue as they caressed me. My sighing, grew into moaning but then I could not help but cry out as she sucked in that tender morsel of flesh I so loved to touch. It was exquisite and unbearable at the same time, for she did not stop when I had reached the pinnacle of my desire. Over and over, the waves of pleasure coursed through me until I felt as though I might collapse. As if she could sense my overwhelming fatigue, she gently pulled away.

There were a few moments of relative silence, my panting for breath being the only disturbance. Not lingering for very long, Sarah stood and composed herself. "Do you think you can do that for me?" Not knowing what to say, I simply nodded which elicited measured smile from her. "Good. Now, no more meddling in my things." As suddenly as she appeared, she was gone and I was left to compose myself. Managing to secure my hair into its usual bun, I set about doing my chores.

I had yet to receive any criticism over my work, and assumed that my work was up her standards. The house was kept clean, the meals were prepared and served and I was kept naked. After a few weeks, the idea of being nude began to lose some of its novelty. I had grown so accustomed to it in fact, that clothing might very well have felt foreign to me.

Each morning, I would be expected to service Sarah and I had to admit to being quite fond of the activity. There was never any reciprocation however, and that was difficult for me. She had recently insisted on my referring to her as Mistress, and so the informality of using each other's name was gone. She would simply refer to me as 'girl'. There was something so dehumanizing about it, as though I was losing my identity.

She had stopped allowing me the privilege of using her bath, instead insisting that I wash in the kitchens, by whatever means were necessary. As a result, I was never very clean, and my skin had lost its alabaster appearance altogether. Instead, it began to take on a cast of mottled grey. For whatever reason this seemed to please her. She had gifted me my own razor, but it was anything but new. She had probably purchased it at a second-hand shop. When I first received it I was excited, as the hair between my legs had started to grow out, and I was fond of it being smooth. There was no real edge to it at first, requiring a few hours of sharpening before it would shave effectively.

Without the luxury of a bath at my disposal, the condition of my hair had begun to suffer. I had resorted to using a wooden comb which I had come across whilst cleaning. It ripped and tore at the stands, leaving it in a dreadful state. Not having any way to truly clean it meant that it retained the odor of the kitchen as well as the grease which rose from the cooking. It was becoming unbearable.

Mistress would often comment on it as I would service her, saying that it really was disgusting. I was not in disagreement with her. Every few days, she would renew her offer to cut it, but I would decline. Perhaps I hoped that she might relent and allow me to wash it properly one day.

The basin that I used to clean myself was small, but it was the only one Mistress allowed me to use. Plain cold water and lye soap were all I was afforded. I began to wonder if my appearance was as a result of the caustic soap I was forced to use. Aside from its color, my skin was dry and almost seemed dusty, as ash might be if I was rubbed in it. If this wasn't disturbing enough, I had taken on some weight. I was not afforded the luxurious fair I prepared each day for her. Instead I was forced to eat bread, cheese and fatty meats which had slowly taken their toll on my physique.

Mistress had also changed my sleeping arrangements, instead, quartering me in a small room behind the kitchen. Part of me was sad to be removed from my already spartan bedroom, but the humiliation of being forced into the dark little cubby was arousing. There was barely enough room to lie down, and I was under the impression that the space had once been used for coal. Each night I would lie naked on the bare mattress, and in no danger of discovery, pleasure myself. The confining filth of my little room, added to my arousal.

My thoughts became more and more depraved, and the fantasies that I lived out in my head, fed my desire for further humiliation. My once pert breasts had now sagged, flopping about as I worked. Mistress would find this amusing, commenting on my deteriorating condition. Her debasement only served to arouse me even further, feeding my lust for self induced release. Risking exposure, I found myself unable to resist the urge to take my pleasure at all hours of the day. I wondered if Mistress was aware of my disobedience? If she was, she did nothing to curtail it.

Mistress began complaining that the income provided her by her brother was insufficient to maintain the house. She approached me about my fortune for the first time. As much as I tried to insist on my estate being off limits, she would try time and time again to gain my cooperation. She never went so far as to threaten me, but very nearly. Her demands became integral in my fantasies. I would imagine her taking everything I had, and leaving me penniless. I had no idea why this was arousing to me, but the idea of being completely at her whim, was a powerful tonic for play.

I would lie in my tiny little hole, rubbing myself raw, while imagining how insignificant I had become. A once rich and powerful lady, reduced to a servant, naked and of no consequence to anyone. I knew that my room had begun to smell of my sex, and to my complete dismay, this only fanned the flames of my depravity. Not long after this, something occurred which upset me greatly.

I had risen in the morning and began to wash myself as I had to do, when I saw something fall past my face. I had not yet taken my hair down from the previous day, but did so at once. I was shocked when my hair fell past my face, for it was ridden with lice. Panicked, I thought to wake Mistress with my disturbing news. Thinking more clearly, I knew exactly what her reaction would be. No, I would have to deal with this on my own.

I took a generous portion of the lye soap and worked it into my hair, something I had not done for fear of the damage it might cause. It stung fiercely as the stuff penetrated my scalp and I thought that my head might burst into flames. Filling the basin with cold water I tried to wash out the soap, and succeeded for the most part. There was a small mirror in the entryway to the kitchen, so I tried to examine my hair. To my dismay, the lice persisted.

Walking back to the counter, I knew that there was only one way I could rid myself of these vermin. I looked down at that devilish tool sitting innocuously on the edge of the shelf. The very instrument that had brought me so much joy in keeping myself smooth, was to be the method by which Sarah would have her way with me, once and for all. Having just shaved myself the day before, I knew the blade to be devastatingly sharp. There was nothing to be done, my hair had to go.

I worried that Mistress might call for me before I had finished, but I had awakened quite early that day, so I knew I was safe for at least a short while. Filling the basin with fresh water, I wet my hair once more, and for the last time, ran my fingers through its length. Raising the blade to the top of my forehead, I allowed it to slip under my hair. The hone on the blade was indeed fine, as the hair simply fell away with the stroke. I stopped to examine what I had done in the mirror. A single tear escaped my eye as I saw the bare skin the razor had so cruelly revealed. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable, returning to the counter and the razor.

I began to work back over the top of my head until I resembled and old man, bereft of his hair for age. If the spectacle was not so disturbing, it would have been funny. I ran my hand over my newly exposed head, and a shiver of excitement coursed through me. Really? How could this horrific act be anything but tragic? And yet, I was seemingly aroused by it. Aroused by the feeling, indeed, so much so that my hand actually wandered to my sex. "Stop it." I said aloud, resisting the urge to pleasure myself. Returning to the task, I slowly and methodically stripped myself of my hair, and the hoard that lived within it.

I found that I needed to repeat the process, not being satisfied with the finish. Having grown so accustomed to the smoothness left behind when I would shave myself below, I was not going to be satisfied with anything less. In the end, I had made quite a mess. The floor was covered with my hair, so I quickly set about cleaning it all up. By the time Mistress called for me, there was no evidence that anything had ever occurred. None, other than my devastatingly stark appearance.

Every mirror I passed on my way above stairs reminded me of my altered appearance. The way my head gleamed, the way my ears seemed to protrude from the sides of my head and my decidedly chubby form all served to humiliate and arouse. This was going to be difficult.

As I entered her chambers, Mistress could not help but laugh. This was the push I seemed to need. I would have expected to have broken down and cried, but instead, as I listened to her amusement, an exhilarating acceptance swept over me. I simply smiled and approached her.

"Well, girl, this is a surprise." She chuckled. Naked, she rose from her bed and came to stand before me. Without being asked I fell to my knees and bowed down. I felt her hands slide over the silky surface of my head, eliciting a response from between my legs like no other I had ever experienced. Involuntarily, I moaned with pleasure from her attention. "You like this, don't you?" Continuing to caress, she knelt down and began to whisper into my ear.

"You are my ugly girl, now. All your beautiful hair, gone. I shall keep you this way, you know." In spite of her having forbade it, my hand found its way between my legs and began to stroke my sex. "Your new ugliness excites you, doesn't it? Go ahead, play." She had given me permission, and my hand instantly increased its rhythm, sliding over my delicate nub. "You made yourself this way for me, didn't you?" I could do nothing but agree with her, being so close to my end. "My cousin, you have pleased me with this sacrifice." She reached back and touched my rear, sliding her finger over that forbidden place. Her suddenly referring to me as cousin added my complete fall from grace, to my utter humiliation. "So ugly, so fat and so bald, aren't we cousin?" With those words, I cried out in total release. Collapsing on the floor, I could not move an inch for being shattered into a thousand pieces.

Leaving me in a pile on the floor, she stood and walked back to her bed. "And what of my needs?" I knew I had to muster the strength to rise and satisfy her. Perhaps this spectacle would ease her normally stubborn sex, and allow me to bring her to pleasure more expediently. Dragging myself off the floor, I made my way to her, and dropped my mouth to its rightful place. I was indeed rewarded, for her peak was reached in minutes, and more violently than it had been my pleasure to witness.

"Such a sight seeing that bald knob between my thighs." She chuckled, sliding her fingers off its glassy surface. "There is something which I need to discuss with you girl." I held her dressing gown open for her, allowing her the modesty which I was never permitted.

"Yes, Mistress." I mewled. Having cast off the arousal that was so overpowering earlier, I grew self-conscious of my ridiculous state.

"As this is what you have chosen to become, I see no need for pretenses any longer." I knew to what she referred. "I shall be expecting you to relinquish your fortune, in it's entirety." My disapproval must have been quite evident, as she was quick to counter. "Yes, my ugly cousin, you shall do it, or I will expose you in a most hideous fashion." Her words were devious and mean, but she knew there was nothing I could do to prevent her from exacting her wishes. Being so exposed would be tantamount to my ruination. I tried to picture myself in a public forum, stripped in every sense of the word.

"Would you really do such a thing to me, cousin?" I whimpered. Where was my resolve? I had sworn to myself when I came here, that I would never consent to what she was demanding. We had been through this before, but the situation had now shifted. I could not have imagined her having so much leverage over me. I was indeed ridiculous, even hideous to behold. Could I bear the shame and dehumanizing stares of my peers as they observed a once wealthy and beautiful lady, so reduced.

"Mistress, I simply cannot, we have been all over this, and it is quite out of the question." She squinted her eyes, and grew quite angry.

"Don't make me do this to you! Cousin, for pity's sake, it's only money!" She had used the same argument before, downplaying the importance of a good financial standing. If this was the case, why did she want it so very badly?

"You threaten to expose me should I not acquiesce to your demands. My humiliation is like food to me of late, and I have grown quite fat on it." Flaunting my appetite for depravity, was perhaps not the best way to dissuade her.

"Then you would prefer exposure, to being a pauper." Never having wanted for anything my entire life, left me with little experience.

"Taking my present state of mind into account, I think yes." There was a vase on the table next her bed, which she lifted and threw against the wall over my head. Smashing into a hundred little shards, the pieces came to rest all about me. As my feet were bare, I daren't move. "Then you shall have what you desire, fool." She ran out of the room, leaving me stranded amongst the glass. As I saw no way to avoid cutting myself should I try and move, I simply stood there and waited for her to return.