1. Cucumber Hall


    Date: 9/9/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: steffanie, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    - it did, the path led to her bed. What could possibly be more fairly balanced than two petite girls celebrating the beauty of their nakedness together? The law did not demand anything of us in Hazel's bed, no heartless husbands could rule over us, we knew only free love, a secret love that grew ever more passionate. Until one day - "Do try to show a little more discretion, girls," said Hazel's father. "Your fondness for one another has become quite vociferous recently." "Yes, father," said Hazel. "Sorry, father." We two girls blushed so profoundly, we felt as if our faces were on fire, but the kindhearted man said nothing more on the subject, except to my own father. We could only imagine the course of such a conversation, we certainly feared its outcome. Fortunately, and hopefully like most egalitarians would have done, the two men chose to quietly support our sapphic relationship on a point of principle - the autonomy of love. Our fathers' muted stance would trouble neither church nor state, after all, we were only young women, what harm could we do when our future prospects were so inevitably destined to be dependent upon marriage? We simply did not count, but to more than whisper our love would invite ridicule to challenge us, an action that might undermine our reputations and ruin us forever. Postlethwaite posed such a threat, and so the pretence of my interest in marriage began, I reluctantly took the warm Yorkshire air with the venomous creature after accepting his ...
    first (and last) invitation to do so. I looked my astonishing best for the occasion, my soft muslin dress captured the spirit of Romanticism perfectly, freely styled to cascade to the floor, and neatly pleated to cup my bosom with delicate wisps of sensual fabric. A wonderful dress that felt delightful to wear, its ivory colour complemented my complexion and extolled the beauty of my pale white breasts - especially my breasts, where all eyes would invariably rest when beholding such a classical display of ripe femininity. I had done my father proud, my wild bob of blonde hair showed a girl with spirit, while my dress proved me womanly enough to satisfy a demanding marriage. Except Mr Postlethwaite seemed anything but proud when I presented myself to him, he extended only the most perfunctory of greetings and looked shocked by my uninhibited portrayal of loveliness. I felt confident I had the better of him already, until he countered with a caustic remark upon the weather and the necessity to at least cover myself with the shade of a parasol. A dainty parasol lay close to hand, rather too dainty in Postlethwaite's opinion, another criticism levelled by a man who held no sympathies whatsoever for my ethereal values, yet he could only bluster or ridicule in argument against them. I felt bullied before our walk had barely begun, it would certainly seem an especially long one and nothing like walking with my dearest Hazel, but then, she and I enjoyed a very different relationship to ...
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