Paul Gable - Aunt Sharon enslaved

"Here. This'll keep you covered, Aunt Sharon. I've gotta clean this place up."

She took the foul-smelling blanket and threw around her shoulders, gathering what remained of her dress in her hands and walked quickly to the door. Every muscle in her body ached. She could still feel those dreadful clamps as they showered her cunt and tits and asshole with voltage. And then… and then how her ass had hungered for his cock!

"Oh God!"

Sharon fell to her knees, covering her face with both hands and sobbing freely. She rocked back and forth, her ass flattening against her heels as she relived the last few hours with her nephew again and again. She could still feel the steely bite of the pincers, the sensation of the electricity burning through her body, the feel of Billy's cock as it plowed through her ass while his fingers worked her slippery cunt-lips against one another!

She groaned, rolling onto her back, raising her legs, bending her knees as she thought of her nephew and the way he had treated her. Thrilling spasms of lust rocked her body. She was rolling around like a whore, feeling a little wild and insane. Sharon giggled and sobbed, ashamed of herself, and yet unable to do a thing about it.

Just as she forgot everything once more, a pounding rage of release reached its peak. Sharon yelped, jerking her body as if Billy were beating her across the belly with a strap. She pushed her hands down, her fingers reaching in to plow through the mushy, throbbing heat of her cunt.

"Noooo! Oh it's so good… it's going to kill meeeeeeee!"

Sharon kicked and scratched, biting her lip while the fire that burned through her cunt exploded throughout her body, making the woman buck and thrash against the furniture around her. Sharon cried and groaned, not caring if anyone in the hall could hear her.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself on the floor. She was breathing regularly now, her chest rising and falling rhythmically while her fingers played faintly over her swollen cunt. Slowly Sharon pulled herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment and regaining her sense of balance. There were no other sounds in the house. Where was Helen? Where was her daughter? She would find out later. Right now she had to shower, had to get cold water rushing over her head to clear out her mind.

Cracking open the door, Sharon peered down the hall. No. No one was around. Padding naked down the corridor to the bath, she shut and locked the door behind her. If there were no one in the house, Billy might come into the bathroom and attack her there in the shower stall.

Turning on the water, she concentrated the spray over her cunt, her tits, her throat. She was thirty-six – still very good looking and attractive to men. Why was she doing this to herself, letting her nephew, of all people, rope her and fuck her? She should tell her sister, or tell the police. But the thought of the resulting scandal sickened her. No. Perhaps Diane was right. They should leave this place and go back to L.A. Billy couldn't touch her there.

With a sigh, Sharon worked the warm soap over her cunt, feeling the suds bubble into her pussy. She found herself smiling. Billy had done all those things to her, and still she was smiling! How odd, Sharon thought, ducking her head under the water and trying to wash away all her emotions as she finished her shower.

The next few days were relatively quiet, mother and daughter saying little to one another while Aunt Helen did all the babbling. There had been some problems in the lower pastures, and Billy had stayed there during the last three days. Diane shuffled uneasily, trying to occupy her time watching television. But it was so boring. There was nothing for them to do here except breathe.

Worse, Diane was feeling anxious about Billy. She wasn't sure whether she was afraid he'd return and do the same thing to her he'd done before. Or that he would simply ignore her and leave her alone. The anxiety was driving her crazy, and there was nothing around to take her mind off it.

On the fourth day Diane was sitting on the couch watching the news. Her mother and aunt had gone together to examine the raspberries in the patch to the rear of the house. Diane was fighting off another attack of mind-numbing boredom when she heard the front door squeak open.

"Any berries worth while out there?" she asked, not turning her head.

"Don't know. Don't pick 'em."

Diane nearly jumped from her skin. It was Billy! She turned around and found herself eye to eye with her cousin. He was filthy, his Levi's caked with dirt while his skin was creased with long black lines of grime. His boots were caked with mud.

"Mom's out back with your old lady," Billy said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. "That's good. Man, I'm so fuckin' horny I could have you suck my cock right here."

He drew his fingers on either side of his fly. Diane flinched back, drawing her legs up on the sofa while pressing her spine against the soft backing.

"Don't talk to me like that… not here, not while your mother…"

"They're in the back, too involved to be listenin' to you and me."

Diane eyed his crotch warily, feeling a fire start up between her trembling legs. It was getting so warm, so wet, so itchy there as she studied the increasing bulge against the front of his Levi's.

He had her by the arm, pulling her from the couch. Diane looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, staring back. Diane didn't cry out for her aunt or mother as she slipped her feet back into her sandals, straightened her shorts and followed Billy out the front door. He was still holding her wrist, but his fingers weren't particularly tight around her flesh. She could have jerked away, turned and bolted back to the house screaming for help. He wouldn't have dared to follow her, not with her mother and aunt nearby.

Diane followed immediately, her legs rubbing against the tall grass. They walked into the nearest field, Diane wondering where on earth Billy was going. She rushed to catch up, not wanting to be dragged through the dirt. They mounted a small bill, stopping for a moment. Diane shook the hair from her eyes, spotting an old barn with its new finish.

"But, Aunt Helen said there's nothing down there," Diane protested.

"That's the surprise," Billy said, pulling her down after him.

She fell once, her knees scraping over the ground painfully. Cursing, Billy dragged her to her feet. Diane struggled to keep up, her sandals slipping from side to side. She fell again, this time on the gravel just in front of the door. Billy pulled her the final few feet, rocks of gravel skinning her knees and calves. He dropped her to the ground, pulling open the door, then dragging her into the large building.

Her knees were bleeding. Diane sniffed, rubbing her fingertips gingerly over the injured flesh while looting around at the dark interior. She shivered, wondering why she had so meekly come along, almost letting Billy take her here. Billy slammed the door behind her, turning a bolt and locking the two of them inside. "Come on."

She rose shakily, leaning heavily against Billy as he pulled her along the barn floor. She could see things hanging on the barn wall, things that made her skin pucker up into gooseflesh. But the darkness gratefully hid their true shape from her. They stopped just under the pulley assembly that had held her mother so firmly days ago. When she felt his fingers fiddling with her waistband, Diane started to pull back. She received a sharp blow across the chin, the force knocking her back against the wall.

Turning her head, she saw a long black leather bullwhip curled ominously over two pegs driven into the board. Remembering the kiss of Billy's riding crop against her flesh, Diane calmed quickly. He could do to her what he wished. If she fought back, he would surely beat her and whip ha. The thought of enduring more pain, more of the biting whip made the teen shiver in revulsion. Keeping her hands to her sides, Diane signaled her cousin that she was ready.