A Case of Female Hysteria Pt. 04

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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The missing brooch has brought back a storm of conflicting memories both agreeable and displeasing. Cousin Simon had nefariously gifted the emerald brooch to me as a gesture of his affection. The fact that it belonged to his his mother at the time is of little consequence. Aunt Matilde failed to notice the brooch's absence as she was too busy depleting the wine stores in the cellar rather than keeping account on the precocious children.

Today I will tell you the story of the chain of events that led to my possession of this dazzling adornment. And, how my reputation was soiled by Simon's fiancé, the socialite and heir to an obscene oil fortune, Petra Montgomery.

Every summer my parents left me in the care of my aunt Matilde while they travelled overseas. I would make the journey to our family oceanfront estate in Maine accompanied by a maid or nanny. Since Simon and I were just mere children, we were mostly left to our own devices on the estate. Our nannies came and went with the seasons, but summer was an especially trying time to keep the employment of one. It was my twelfth summer when the nanny, Hildegard from Copenhagen, made the long travel to Maine, that nearly cost her her life. But I will get to that shortly.

Simon and I were just three years apart in age, and of all of the cousins, he and I formed an inseparable bond. He became the yang to my yin and it wasn't long before we developed a sophisticated system of communication which required both telepathic skills and memory. During the day we would spend countless hours, digging for gold by the seashore, climbing trees, playing chase in the hedge maze, and taking afternoon naps in the lighthouse tower. In the evenings, we grew fond of play-acting as husband and wife in Matilde's parlor, which is where I became acquainted with the brooch that was my birthstone. I can only think fondly of summers with Simon, and since I had no siblings, this was my childhood.

It was about the time that my tender years began, when my relationship with Simon began to change. Our innocent exploits slowly turned into liaisons that would have soiled the pages of any romance periodical. Digging for gold by the seashore became exploring hidden treasures underwater au naturel. When we began playing pirate and captive, climbing trees became a thing of the past. Being tied to a tree and blindfolded, while being fondled by my cousin became a precarious game of wits and torture. Afternoon naps in the lighthouse turned into anatomy lessons via show and tell. I reminisce with fondness about the first time I got to see the male specimen in its natural form. Granted, Simon was just a boy of fifteen, but even then, it was clear that he would become a force to be reckoned with. This was coming-of-age at it's finest, which became disconcerting to the family, with our constant absence, and our exchange of sportive glances and smirks at the dining table.

That is when Hildegard from Copenhagen (aka The Viking Hammer) was summoned. We never knew her last name, but we did know she was from Copenhagen. She was a heavy-set, light-haired spinster clearly of nordic descent. With her steady eye and her deceptively cheerful elfish diction, she would gleefully inflict the old-ways of discipline upon us. Simon and I became so frightened of her that the mere sound of her banshee cry across the dunes would have us shaking in our breeches.

During her travel from the estate in Sudbury to the coast of Maine, the carriage lost control and tipped over. Hildegard's formidable strength was able to right the carriage back to position. Thankfully none of the horses or passengers were harmed, but the driver was so distraught that Hildegard drove the carriage all the way to Maine herself! At least that is the story we were told, because when she arrived at the summer home she was sporting a cane and a limp.

Simon and I felt certain that Hildegards' injury would thwart her efforts at keeping up with our wily and limber excursions. But what Hildegard lacked in physical abilities, she made up for in her detective skills. We had deduced that Hildegard may have used rare field glasses, expertly trained homing pigeons, or had illegally imported a dwarfling accomplice from Denmark. How she knew about our shenanigans is baffling. Little did the family know however, what Hildegard did to us behind the scenes. And it's those brutalities that brought Simon and I even closer together.

Every evening before dinner we were required to wash. That is when Hildegard would interrogate us and impart her wrath. If she did not approve of our responses to her questioning, we would receive a sharp whack of her cane on the rear. These whacks would produce enormous welts on our behinds that would remain for days, and make it painful to remain seated. Hildegard would relish at our discomfort and command us to sit like proper children. She would threaten to share our indecencies with aunt Matilde if we tattled. Needless to say, Hildegard became wealthy with information, and we paid her with the currency of our puerile skin.

In an act of desperation, we crafted an anonymous message from the sea. We used our penmanship skills and artistry to create a believable notice of criminality. Simon made the paper look worn and crumpled, and I used my drawing skills to create a sketch of Hildegard. Finding the appropriate bottle was easy, since we had accumulated a collection of discarded bottles we had found on the seashore.

Aunt Matilde received the bottle during afternoon tea, and with anticipation callously broke it in one fell swoop hoping to find a letter from a long-lost love. With astonishment she read the note:

"Wanted. Hildegard..... Last Name (blurred with water because we did not know it)

Wanted for crimes committed against children. Do not be fooled by her charms. She is a dangerous felon. Reward for her swift return to Copenhagen."

Our plot against Hildegard failed. Somehow Aunt Matilde was bewitched by the Viking Hammer, therefore the ferry to Denmark never came. Consequently, Hildegard upped her game. The caning progressed to the brutal figging of our anal cavities (to those that have never had the good fortune, it involves inserting a peeled piece of ginger inside the anus). We were then required to clench the ginger for the entire day without as much as a squirm. Little did Hildegard realize that we were gaining strength despite her dreams of making us suffer.

With the pretence of discussing our plot to send Hildegard back to Copenhagen, Simon would sneak into my room through the veranda window. That is when Simon's hands would caress my welted bottom and kiss my neck and chant words of everlasting love. I would return those words and more by kissing his sweet lips while feeling for his coming manhood. These forbidden pleasures were the only comfort we had. Whether or not it was right or wrong was of little consequence to us.

Each time Hildegards' punishment would grow worse, our trysts would become more heated.

Daytime became difficult to function as we were impaired due to lack of sleep. We began sticking close to the compound and doing benign activities like reading, playing chess, and taking refreshment. We became experts at malingering, so that our extracurricular activities could resume after dark.

It wasn't long before Hildegard became suspicious and we were caught in the act. I had developed a severe case of the giggles while Simon was under my blanket, between my thighs, drawing the alphabet with his tongue. Her unexpected discovery put an end to my summers in Maine, and was the evidence that Hildegard had been waiting for.

After Simon was pulled from me by his hair and taken, all I remember was hearing the cane lash and wack on his tender bottom. At the time, I felt it wasn't fair that he was being punished for a crime we were both complicit in, but when Hildegard returned to my room with her implements I knew she was just getting started.

That night I was tied up, gagged, and flogged, while being indoctrinated into believing that I was a temptress, a strumpet, and the author of all worldly afflictions. The Viking Hammer was so enraged that she began speaking in her mother tongue, in words indecipherable to me, but clear in humor. She then vigorously expunged my nether region with soap, as if it was a blemish to be erased. All the while my tears would not cease. No longer from the pain, but from experiencing the injuries sans Simon.

Hildegard reported to the family that I had taken ill and was highly contagious, which wouldn't have made a difference to them as our complete care and well-being was entrusted to her. I am convinced to this day that The Viking Hammer is the origin of my hysteria. I was beside myself in a frenzy, and had convinced myself that I really was unwell. The gag was removed just long enough for me to consume nourishment and call for Simon. But Hildegard was determined to keep us separated.

After my "recovery," I only saw Simon once before the carriage arrived to take me away. In hysterics I wept and said goodbye to my one and only true love. It was at that time that Simon pressed the brooch discreetly into the palm of my hand and quietly whispered in my ear, "Take this as a symbol of my love. Never forget me."

Once in the carriage, I discovered that I was being sent abroad to a finishing school in France. Being taken so far away from my Simon was by far the worst punishment inflicted on me by Hildegard.

It was years later before I heard from Simon again. I had discovered that he was sent to military academy in Great Britain, and for a short period we managed to exchange letters. That stopped abruptly when the contents of those letters was discovered by someone high up in the chain of command at his school. Repeatedly our love was curtailed, and all because we were mere kin.

Once we were adults and resumed our respectful places in society, a ball was to take place at the family home in Sudbury on Independence Day. Hildegard was long gone, and aunt Matilde had unfortunately taken ill and passed while Simon was at the academy. It was my hopes that the family secret would remain veiled so that my affair with Simon could start anew.

An elaborate gown was made to compliment the emerald brooch, with a plunging v-neck to showcase my womanly bosom. I knew that Simon would be in attendance and planned for my walk down the staircase to be a sight to behold. I had practiced my entrance weeks before, so much so, that my walk looked effortless and elegant.

When the evening came and it was time for my entrance, I relished each step down the staircase, careful not to let my eyes wander to any admiring gentlemen callers. Once my descent was complete and the crowd parted, I caught Simons gaze. Time stood still. He was as handsome as I remember, but more so. He was a man. Tightly clenched on his arm, was a girl. A slight, vapid thing resembling a wounded animal. Petra Montgomery.

Once the quadrille began, I danced with various suitors. Simon eventually swooped in and managed to secure a position on the floor that would deliver me to his arms. Simon noticed the brooch on my gown and remarked how it brought out the green in my eyes. After spins and twirls, I would purposely stumble daringly close and feel for his evolved manhood. We would laugh and reminisce, all the while transfixed with impassioned gazes. The whole world was ours. My plan to lure Simon back was working.

"Meet me in a quarter of an hour in the garden maze," said Simon expectantly.

"And your companion?" I said coyly.

"I don't care. She's no Hildegard," he said. We both laughed.

After our dances, and curious glances, I discreetly saunter outdoors in the summer breeze. It is a beautiful dark night. A perfect moonless night to embrace the coming fireworks. I find the hidden trellis at the end of the maze.

As I get closer, I catch his scent. An intoxicating mix of his male virility combined with a sweetness that evokes my childhood. I hear his lustful breathing arousing my senses. He whispers my name with echoes of adolescence, "Cora." His fingers reach out to touch mine and in a minute we are dancing again. This time like lovers. Spinning me around and around, and giggling like a little girl, I don't remember ever being that happy.

What ensued was frantic and desperate. It was the one act we were ill prepared to consummate as children. In deep hushed tones, we were careful not to make a sound, and knew we had to be swift so that our absence would not arouse suspicion. He ravaged me with his kisses and tongue and nibbled and sucked on my engorged breasts. The sounds in the distance of the party faded into the background while we devoured each other in the dark. The only witness to our crimes was the eyes of my glistening brooch. No Hildegard to spy and punish us. Thrusting myself on his phallus, Simon looked helpless on the grass. I remember the boy that I used to play with in the summer, and how all the make-believe was now real. My bosom smothering his face and his lips teasing my nipples was almost too much to bear. I frightened myself with my passion for him, wanting so badly to scream to the world how much I loved my cousin. What a perfect night it was.

The Independence Day fireworks begin just in time for my passion to erupt, where not a soul could have heard our cries when the skies exploded above. Without that convenience there is no telling of what those primal sounds would have inspired. Simon returned to the party first to clean up discreetly, and fortunately I found a clear way through the servants entrance to get to my rooms. We were very lucky not to be caught.

Knowing that Simon would be stationed in Sudbury for some time, we managed to pay discreet visits with each other in the surrounding woods. I learned quickly that he was betrothed to Petra Montgomery. Being beside myself with love for Simon, this shadow of knowledge had me plunging deep into the depths of my desire, and as a result our illicit meetings became more inflamed. Sooner or later, it would become difficult to keep the facade astir.

At the peak of Autumn, our rekindled romance ends after Petra intercepts our messages and exposes our affaire. It doesn't stop her from marrying my cousin however, quite the contrary. But rather than punishing him for loving me, she proceeds to tarnish my reputation amongst our peers. Petra Montgomery is the reason that I have not been invited to any social gatherings, and banned from co-mingling with other women of high-society, lest I influence them, or dazzle their husbands or paramours.

The emerald brooch was not just a symbol of Simons everlasting love, but witness to that love. The significance if its loss, makes it clear that Simon has become even more out of my reach. I will no longer allow the Petras or Hildegards of this world stifle my amour for my cousin. Which is why I will pry that brooch out of thieving hands if I must, and wear it proudly on my breast for all of society to see.