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 Three

"Sarah, please!" I begged. She was dragging me towards the door, my bare feet no match for the slippery tile floor. I tried to imagine the incredible humiliation I was about to experience. The sound of the voices below began to drive home the reality of my situation. "Please, be reasonable!" I knew that my voice was carrying, and could very well be heard below stairs.

"There is only one thing that will sway me from dragging you down those stairs and into the midst of your friends." She turned, and her anger was palpable.

"The money." I stood, her hand relinquished its grasp on my wrist.

"It is not just about the money anymore, Elizabeth." Sensing my willingness to cave to her demands, she pulled me back into the bedroom and closed the door. The sound of the ominous conversations below, now muffled, I could think more clearly.

"If not the fortune, then what do you want? What more can I possibly give you?" My frustration was augmented by my impending ruination.

"I want it all, cousin, your fortune, your estate in Plymouth, and you." She smirked, turning to pour herself a brandy.

"But Sarah, you already have me. Have I not willingly given myself to you? I have been your slave, quite literally." Sipping the brandy, she sat on her bed and bid me to kneel. At that point, I would have done anything to avoid my exposure. I did as she asked.

"I am going to allow you one more opportunity to save yourself, cousin." One way or the other, my life was about to take a drastic turn. "You are in the right about your slavery to me, it is as I intended. I must admit to being surprised at the depths to which you were willing to fall. Despite all this, you have steadfastly denied me the thing that I so desperately wanted. The thing that I have always wanted. Since the day that my parents willed their estate to my brother, I have sought a way to steal yours from you." As I listened to her try and justify her motive and actions, I did my best to hold my tongue. "I suspected that you might not resist exploring a continuation of the games we once played as young ladies. After I succeeded in convincing you to leave your husband, it was only a matter of pulling you here."

"I would certainly have left him on my own, without any convincing from you, Sarah." I interjected, but she seemed intent on taking credit for it.

"Be that as it may, you arrived here, and it was so incredibly easy to put you in that submissive frame of mind that you so enjoyed years ago." She took another sip of brandy, and my parched mouth longed for just a sip. I was denied. "As I began to strip away your possessions, your clothes and any self respect you might have had, I noticed how your sexual appetite increased markedly. I was well aware of your inability to curtail your self-indulgent pleasure. You thought you were being so careful, but I observed you many times with your filthy little hand between those chubby thighs. Why, you absolutely reeked of your own sex most of time, but it so amused me that I held my tongue. Even now, I can smell you. Such is your attachment to your own humiliation, that you are certainly finding this arousing." She was not far off the mark. And I was indeed aroused, even at the point of relinquishing my fortune. "So, imagine my delight when you came to me this morning, absent your once magnificent mane of golden fleece. You were bald, and by your own hand. I had to admit to being aroused myself by the sight of it."

"It was lice, Sarah, lice that infested my hair which caused me to shave it off." I did not want her to lay claim to that victory as well.

"Whatever it was, the end result was the same, cousin. Your vulnerability. You have left yourself open to ridicule, and I fully intend to capitalize upon it." Finishing the brandy, she set the glass aside, and I felt the moment was at hand. If there was a way for me to escape the fate that hung so precariously over my head, I wished it would reveal itself. My pensive state must have caught Sarah's attention, for she pushed me backwards, causing me to land firmly on my seat. Momentarily winded, I was unable to move. "Do not stir from that spot, Elizabeth, for I will return immediately." She ran from the room, leaving the doors slightly open. My ears strained to hear her as she addressed the people that had come to unknowingly witness my ruthless exposure. Surely, she was announcing my imminent arrival. I had to escape.

While Sarah was delivering her message below, I hastily ran through the back corridor, grabbing a frock and boots from her dressing room before escaping through the kitchens. I thought nothing of my hairless condition as I entered the streets of Exeter. I should have thought to take a shawl, but alas I did not and was garnering all manner of curious stares. A bald woman walking through the streets was not to be borne, and yet there I was. This was certainly far less injurious to myself than any plan laid in by my cousin, who seemed to harbor only ill will towards me. For all intents and purposes, I was penniless, having no way to prove my identity. My only recourse was to retreat to my estate in Dartmoor, which meant a lengthy journey.

I wondered what Sarah must have thought when she returned to her rooms, only to discover me gone. Her anger must have been truly something to witness. I chuckled inwardly as I imagined it. To my surprise, a young shopkeeper approached me and gifted me a scarf, having witnessed my shame. I was very grateful, but had no way to pay the man for his good will. He took my hand, perhaps seeing through the veil of ugliness I had bestowed upon myself. When he withdrew, there were six gold sovereigns in my palm.

"I do know not what ill has beset you, young lady, but take this and may it serve you well." He slipped away before I could thank him, but I was left with a means to escape Exeter, and return home.

As I exited the stage at the crossroads near my home, the rain that had been driving throughout the journey seemed to allay. The road that I had known so well as a child was overgrown, save for the most barren of tracks. I knew the old estate to be poorly kept, but I also knew that one man had stood by it throughout the years. As I came to the gates, and found them tightly closed, I knew that the only way in was through his house.

I single window glowed in the distance as I approached the place. I worried that I may not be recognized in my lowly state. As it was it had literally been years since his last setting eyes upon me. His old face looked tired as the door opened to my knocking.

"And what can I do for you young lady, for you are well off the road here?" I was not recognized as I had feared.

"Burton, it is Elizabeth." I assured.

"Elizabeth who?" He obviously had been too long on his own, the moors taking their toll, perhaps.

"Elizabeth Pendleton, your Mistress." Suddenly his eyes seemed to brighten, and I hoped that he would know me. He began to laugh, and I worried he did not believe me. Allowing me to enter, he led me to a chair, so that I might take my rest.

"Why would she come here, to this forgotten place, if that is indeed who you are?" Doubting, he took a closer look at my face. "You do bear a resemblance to the young girl I remembered Mistress to be, but you're a far cry from that beauty." He crossed to the door, opening it to the outside, and the darkened moor. "You best be on your way."

"Do you remember when I was child, Sarah and I were throwing stones over the wall, and mistakenly broke one of your windows." Perhaps by giving him some information that only I could know, he might believe who I was. "You came running out of your garden, with a hoe in your hand, waving it at the two of us." I smiled with the memory, those being happier times.

"Take off your scarf." I hesitated, but without too much delay, I obliged.

"I have been Ill of late, Burton, and it has deprived me of my hair." A saddened look swept over him as he realized once and for all that it really was me.

"Elizabeth, at last I recognize you, and not by your hair. The smallish heart shaped mole in front of your left ear, that is what I was looking for." I had seen it so many times, that it simply faded into all that made me up, but to him it was the deciding factor. "Welcome to Pendleton my dear sweet girl. I apologize for not recognizing you, but you must surely agree that some changes have occurred." I nodded, replacing the scarf on my barren head. "Let us up to the house. I have done my best to keep the place, but it has been closed up for all these years, and they have taken a toll." As we approached the grand manor, ivy clinging to its walls, I was swept with so many memories, both pleasant and not so pleasant. This was my home for eighteen years, and it was slow to fade from my mind, even after all that time.

As we crossed the threshold, I was immediately struck with the quiet. The floors, although immaculately clean, had lost their luster. I remembered them being like glass, and seeing myself in them as I walked. All the furniture had been covered, and I was quick to pull some of the cloth away, just to give some life to the old house. Burton left me to my explorations, preferring to work below stairs, as I made my way to my bedroom. There too, all had been covered, but as each piece was revealed, a kind of peace overtook me, and I felt as I hadn't done in many months.

Tomorrow, I would have to make a more thorough investigation, but for now it was time to sleep, my day having been one of some excitement. My bed felt strangely soft and comforting, and it was a welcoming sensation that I would soon become accustomed to. My dreams took me back to Exeter, and were a mesh of devastating humiliation and arousal. I was surrounded with well dressed ladies and gentlemen as I had so feared. Their laughter was pervasive and cruel as they poked and prodded my naked frame. I somehow found myself out in the street, but still in the same exposed state. I awoke in a panic, gasping for breath but thankful it was all a dream.

The following morning, the clouds of the previous day had withdrawn, leaving a stark blue sky. Many of the gowns that I had worn as a young lady were still there, but they would never fit me now. Instead, I rummaged through my mother's things, as much as it pained me to do so. Finding the most modern gown that she had, I was pleased that it fit me quite well. Also, within my mother's things, I found several wigs. One of them was blonde, and very nearly the length of my previously lustrous mane. It pleased me when I gazed into the mirror, presented with my old self, although a bit more of me than I should like.

I was now fit to face the world, or at least Plymouth. As there were no horses, the carriages in the stables were of no use. I sought out Burton, to task him on the staffing of the house, replenishing supplies, as well as the purchase of horses.

"Then you are to stay, Mistress?" He smiled.

"For the time being, Burton, yes." I imposed upon him to drive me to town, so that I might undertake some matters of business.

"It is good to have you here, Mistress. I shall hitch the team at once." As his were the only horses on the estate, I would rely upon him heavily over the next few weeks. My accounts in London were moved, at my request to the bank of Plymouth. Something that they were only too glad to do for me. Now safe from the clutches of my jealous cousin, I felt more at ease.

Over the following weeks, the old house came back to life. Servants and staff were hired, and the place seemed to thrive, although less vibrantly than it once had. The staff was a fraction of the size my parents had kept, but there was only myself to look after. I personally saw to the employment of my ladies' maid. I would be damned if I would be saddled with some matronly old woman, running me from beneath.

My hair had grown, but not any length that would be considered acceptable in society, so I continued to wear a wig, but one of my own procurement. With the diet that I had insisted on, my kitchen staff saw to it that I lost much of the weight that I had gained at the whim of my cousin. I had received three letters from her, but not opened a one. She would not have the opportunity to wield her seductive charms over me again. I knew that my submissive tendencies were a danger to me always, and I was on my guard.

I did not know why I had such feelings. They had always been with me, since that first encounter with Sarah. Was it her, or some deep-seated defect in my personality which plagued me. Even in the comfort of my own home, with the luxurious lifestyle I was now enjoying, I thought back to my harrowing experiences under my cousin. The humiliating, even dehumanizing treatment I received, seemed to cause stirrings in me that I could not explain. I would often pleasure myself, dragging back the memories of my life there. Even the shaving of my hair found its way into my fantasies, although I swore I would never partake of such a thing ever again.

Even though she was the source of all my troubles, I could not hate her. The trials she had put me through were arduous and heartless at times, but part of me desired the mistreatment. Be all that as it may, I was now in safe surroundings, reestablished in my good society and not lacking for anything. All my needs were met, save one.

On that score I would remain denied, out of necessity and separation. For months, my only release was by my own hand. I would imagine having my way with my maid, but she was of a different mind. Never once did I even give thought to being with another man. For whatever reason, the idea of it was revolting to me. Had Sarah changed me in such a way, irrevocably? I believed that she had. I longed to taste her again, to allow her nectar to slip deliciously down my throat.

I remembered how abhorrent the idea was the very first time she had me between her legs. The smell of her, the slippery folds of her sex that fit so perfectly into the hollow of my tongue and the way in which she swiveled her hips about my face, all served to feed my arousal on many occasions, and more often of late.

The small bundle of letters from her had grown thick, and although I swore I would never read them, I felt myself drawn to know what she was thinking. I opened the tie, and held the first note she had sent. For a few moments I stared at it, before slipping my finger breath the seal, breaking it.

Cousin Elizabeth,

By now you are most certainly well rid of me, and back in the safety of your estate on Dartmoor. I would have you know that the thing you dreaded most, when you made your escape would never have happened. I am ignorant of your thoughts, but I was making our excuses to those below stairs. I cannot deny having my sights set on your fortune, for I still do.

I shan't waste your time apologizing for my actions, as it concerns your treatment here, for I know how much you reveled in your place. Do you miss it, cousin? Do you miss the humiliation and my indifference to it? I am certain that you find your pleasure each day as you once did, thinking over it.

Your head must still be shorn quite close, Elizabeth. Give it a rub for me.

Sincerely,

Your cousin, Sarah

My blood boiled as I read it, the insolence of her tone was more than I could bear. But her mind knew mine better than I ever thought, for my hand was indeed sweeping over my head. My hair had grown considerably, but was still no longer than a boy's. Even after all this time, she could still reach out and stroke that strange place within my head. Even though I was more than tempted to read another, I dared not. I could see that she was working me, even in that first contact. How desperate would her efforts be when I refused to respond to her? How cunning were her thoughts in order to bring me back to Exeter?

Walking away, and stashing the unopened letters in my secretary, I made for my rooms and an overdue appointment with my fingers. Lying on my back, I allowed my skirts to ride up onto my belly as my hand began its rhythmic stroking. Unlike my head, I had continued to shave myself below. It allowed easier access, and was cleaner by far. I had grown accustomed to the feel of it, sliding smoothly under my fingertips. Bringing my hand to my nose, I savored the intense aroma of my own arousal, and it fanned the flames intensely. I loved the sound of my folds, slapping against themselves, soaking wet with my pleasure. All of it was now necessary to approach the intensity that I needed.

I had learned to stifle my verbal exclamations, squeaking like a mouse as I held my breath. When it was all finished I would allow the air to escape my chest, slowly. There were times when I would rinse my hands with the rosewater which was conveniently placed in my bath. Other times, I would savor myself on my fingers for hours afterwards. I wondered if it was evident to anyone else, and part of me hoped that it was. I realized that I was creating my own world of risk and humiliation, albeit far more subtle than anything I endured in Exeter. I would need to stifle this sort of thinking if I was to avoid embarrassing myself before my staff.

I had finally ceased wearing the wig, at least while at home. My hair had grown to look cute but not at an acceptable length for society. It was easy to care for, and I wished that the fashion would allow for it as I would keep it this way. Diana, my maidservant, enjoyed caring for it as it took no time at all to dry. Under her care, my skin and nails had recovered to the point they once were when I left my husband, so many months before. My proportions too, had returned to their once attractive balance of lines and curves. So, for the first time in so very long, it pleased me to look in the mirror.

About that time, I received yet another letter from Sarah. As I was about to place it in the ever-growing bundle of unopened mail, I noticed that the handwriting was off. Her normally impeccable script was little more than the most rudimentary scrawl. For a moment, I thought to open it, and learn to what ends this outward appearance might lend itself to. Surely this was a new ploy, to have me check her condition by reading what was the latest in a lengthy line of failed attempts. The first letter was enough to frighten me away, once and for all.

Surely, I was the weakest person in the country, to be so afraid of a written word. But that is exactly what I was, weak. So, as I began to open the note, I knew that it was with significant risk. Would that I fall back under charms once again, I could certainly never escape.

Elizabeth,

Now that I have your attention, I am pleased to tell you that I am to arrive at Pendleton Manor on Tuesday next. As you have chosen to ignore my letters, I am resorting to desperate measures to garner your attention. I see your sweet disposition was far too vulnerable to resist my apparent "cry for help" while addressing this.

I trust you are resorting to your own sort of desperation, as it concerns your sexuality. The seed that I planted within you has deep roots, cousin, and is not easily subdued. I wonder if you have embarrassed yourself yet. If not, then you soon will.