Paul Gable - Aunt Sharon enslaved

"Good!"

Billy beckoned her to move forward, stopping her at arm's length when she approached.

Diane was too frightened to move. She stood there on tiptoe, her hands cuffed behind her, the rusty iron cutting into her still-sore wrist flesh. Her arches were throbbing with pain. But still she couldn't relax – not for one instant, or she would tear her nipples from her tits.

The clamps were biting down hard into the light-pink tit-flesh, pulling the flubs up. It was a horrid situation Billy had put her into. Two small-linked chains hung bolted to the wall of the barn, two pincers bolted to the free ends. It was to these pincers that her cousin had attacked her, drawing the links up short so that she would have to stand on her toes to ease the pulling, biting pressure against her nipples. Even so, the chains lifted her heavy tits up.

She cried, shaking the hot tears from her eye as her feet pressed against the floor. The tiny teeth continued to at her while her asscheeks, shivered with the tiny steps she took. Diane almost wished Billy would chain her back up and beat her with the riding crop!

"You don't wanna go down too far or you'll hurt yourself."

His voice mocked her as she fought to keep her balance. Diane swallowed her tears as she felt her cousin's hands roaming all over her thighs. He was pinching her, soothing his fingers over her ass. When she stumbled and nearly fell, the pincers bit angrily into her nipple flesh, distending the sensitive nubs even more. Wildly the teen screamed in agony, struggling to regain her standing position, banging her knees against the wall and jerking back into her tiptoe position.

Billy did nothing to help, standing back and watching Diane do her best to ease the pain. How she hated him!

"Don't want you to hurt yourself too much, now," he said, reaching up and taking first the right, then the left pincer from her nipples.

Diane sighed with relief, feeling the pinching pressure gone from her nipples. Billy was holding her by the wrists, directing her now back toward the pulley assembly. Diane had eyed that thing warily each time they'd passed under it, wondering when he would decide to hang her from it. But the young stud did nothing so far, passing under it, then turning and placing his big hands on either of her slender shoulders.

He stared into her eyes hard, pushing her down, down, until her knees finally gave way. Diane lowered her eyes, feeling her injured knees brushing against the hay on the floor. The stubble tickled. Looking back up, she saw his lips working against one another as if he were about to speak. But then Billy thought better of it, filling his palm with her hair and jerking her face against his boot. Diane cried out, her lip cracking against the black filthy leather. She could taste the warm, salty flavor of her blood as Billy rubbed her mouth and nose back and forth over his boots.

"Lick 'em clean. You're gonna lick 'em nice and clean before I let you outta here."

"Billy… uhhhhh!"

He brought the heel of his other boot down hard against the back of her skull for emphasis, knocking her flat to the floor. In a flash Diane saw the filthy, muddy boot inches from her mouth. He was moving it up against her lip, rubbing the caked mud up against her tongue. Diane rolled away from him, feeling the bile rising in her belly. No. No. Doing this was something too foul!

But Billy was insistent, grabbing her hair again and twisting it around, pulling and tearing strand after strand from her scalp. Tears spilled from her eyes while her cheeks flushed with horror and revulsion. Billy shoved her face back against his boot, rubbing her lips back and forth over the toe until a thin line of saliva streaked over the filthy leather.

Diane turned her head and spat out the vile mixture of her spit and the filthy mud. She could feel the fine grains of dirt grinding against her teeth while Billy laughed at her.

"You too good for this, bitch? You think you don't deserve lickin' my boots?" he snarled, tearing more hair from her scalp.

Diane protested wildly, yammering for mercy, begging him to stop hurting her.

"Yeah. I'll stop doin' that," he snorted, "when you get them boots all nice 'n clean."

She sobbed, feeling herself trapped. Why oh why had she gone with him so willingly? She had acted like some mesmerized slave, following him without question to this horrid place. And now he had her crouched down like a cowering animal, licking his boots, drawing her tongue over this filth.

"Lick 'em, bitch, or I'll pull that fuckin' tongue out!"

The threat made Diane jump into action. Sticking out her tongue, she began slathering it across the dirty leather, flicking it around the toe of his boot, bringing it to the buckle, then sliding it down to the well. There were lumps of something foul wedged there! Diane pulled her head back, twisting it around and spitting onto the ground. She gagged, terrified she would vomit and Billy would make her eat it!

She felt his fingers on the back of her skull. He was pushing her back down, working her nose over the fronts of his boots, laughing at her as her body shook. Diane could have died with mortification as he swore at her, then pushed her face flat against the heel of his boot.

She could smell the acrid odor of slit invading her nostrils. He was rubbing her lips and non in the fecal material, laughing as she struggled back against his grip. Diane began to choke and cough, her face burning, saliva frothing up through her nostrils while her belly turned over and bile rushed up from her gut.

Billy pulled back, rubbing her face over his other boot now, slapping her, forcing the girl to lap and lick the boots clean.

"There. That's better."

Diane rolled onto her side, twisting her face away and spitting out the foul mixture that had gathered in her mouth. How she loathed what was happening to her! Curling up into a fetal position, she used all her concentration to keep from retching, still tasting the mud, the shit, the pungent flavor of old boot polish on her tongue. And then Billy was up behind her once more, nudging the back of her neck with the toe of his boot. Groaning, Diane turned onto her belly, hiding her face in the foul-smelling hay and feeling the stubble tickle the insides of her nostrils. She sneezed, her body shuddering.

"Oh!"

He was nudging the toe of one spit-cleaned boot up into her asshole, twisting it around, making the girl dig her knees into the dirt and scoot away. She was like a snake, worming her body through the filth while her arms strained against the steel bands cutting through her wrists. Billy followed, kicking her in the ass, working his boot into her shitter until Diane screamed for him to stop. She was up against a large rusty rake when Billy caught up with her, tugging her around by her hair and forcing her to face him.

To her surprise and horror, she found herself facing his cock – long red and thick, ready to plow into her cunt without hesitation. Whimpering, Diane shook her head from side to side. Not again! Oh God, not raped again! But Billy had other plans. He was guiding her head forward, his hands cupping either side of her skull. Looking into his steely eyes, the girl knew she wasn't going to get fucked in the cunt – at least, not yet.

He wanted her to suck it. Oh yes, yes, she could read that in his steady gaze. His thumbs were ceasing either side of her mouth, forcing her to part her full red lips while his fingertips dug into her skull. Diane whimpered again. She had heard from her girlfriends about how all that jizz tasted as it splashed down their throats. It had sounded all so messy! And now she was facing that one-eyed monster, that cock moving up and down so close to her cheeks.

"Now, you try somethin' like bitin' me or anything like that and you're gone have hell to pay for it!"