Paul Gable - Aunt Sharon enslaved

"Christ! Haven't had a fuck like that for a damned long time," Billy said, shaking his head and slowly pulling his softening prick-meat from her cunt.

Diane grabbed at it greedily with her cunt muscles. But Billy wasn't to be disobeyed. He gripped her shoulders and pulled out, smearing his cock-juice over her thighs, then getting back onto his feet. Pulling up his Levi's, Billy nudged his cousin with his boot, drawing a long, low moan from her. He started untying the ropes. "Now you listen, bitch. You're not gonna tell nobody about this! This is gonna be our little secret. You play it right and nobody's gonna get hurt. Might have a little fun too, like now," he said with a sneer, loosening the rope around her wrists. "But you say somethin' to anybody and you and your old lady could get hurt."

The threat was enough. No. She would be quiet. She would say nothing.

"No, and that's final!"

"But, Mother…"

"Diane, I told you. We're not going back to the city until I'm sure your aunt is doing well. She hasn't been… well, herself since your uncle's death. She's my sister, and I'm not going to leave her. You'd understand if you had a sister, believe me."

Diane shuffled her feet, pouting, fighting back the tears burning in her eyes. How could she tell her mother the real reason why she wanted to go into town and catch the first bus back home.

How could she tell her mother her own cousin had raped her… raped her and then had beaten her and made her enjoy what he'd done to her? Even now as she sat there on the long couch, her pert little ass sinking into the overstuffed cushions, Diane felt her flesh puckering up into goosepimples. Diane smoothed her fingers over her pleated white tennis skin, feeling her nipples starting to swell and itch invitingly against her bra. This kind of reaction had to stop. How could she be feeling that tingly sensation between her legs when her cousin had beaten her so savagely? How could she be thinking these thoughts about Billy, thoughts that made her cunt sweat and swell against her crotch, when he had roped her like an animal, then raped her? It was all she could do to disguise the chafe marks on her wrists, hiding the beating marks from her mother and aunt.

"And besides, Diane, I think being out here is good for you – good for both of us."

Diane had the creepy feeling that her mother was going to suggest they live here. She squirmed her hot little ass against the sagging sofa cushions.

"Now, I don't want to hear any more about this," Sharon Farnsworth said, trying to put a note of severity in her voice. "And, one more thing," she added as Diane got up sullenly and started for her room. "Sit down, dear."

Diane thumped back down.

"I wish you'd dress in something more… conservative," Sharon said, nodding at the short-short tennis skin. "This isn't L.A. There are men around here, including your cousin Billy, who might think you were another kind of girl."

Diane flushed to the roots of her hair. It was as if her mother had directly accused her of fucking her cousin. Her fingers grew icy and trembled.

"Everybody dresses like this, Mother. It's the style."

"It leaves you… exposed. Something more conservative."

"Well, then maybe I could go around with no panties at all. That should excite everyone around here," Diane said, getting up quickly and rushing from the room.

"Diane… please…"

Sharon stood there in the living room, clenching and unclenching her fists. Oh, she had done everything wrong! Biting her lip, she wondered where it was she was going wrong with the girl. They had been so close once, especially when her husband passed away. And now a wail was there, blocking her from her own daughter. She could have screamed, smoothing her fingers over her dress. Still, Sharon regained her calm, sighing and turning.

Perhaps it was because of the strange feelings she had been having lately when her nephew was around that had put her on edge. She was a mature woman, a woman who knew in her mind that love-making was just out of the question for her. She had a daughter to raise still, and neighbors and family to contend with. But suddenly when she arrived here and saw Billy, she saw an image of her late husband flash before her. Again and again she tried to put his image from her mind. But Sharon found her eyes wandering to him, drinking in his muscular form.

She closed her eyes until the tickling, burning itch that had been there all through the interview with her daughter had faded some. When she moved her hip slightly, the velvety surfaces rubbed together and more hot juice seeped out. No! This had to stop! Perhaps Diane was right. Perhaps they should leave and go back to L.A. There would be fewer complications, less temptations for her.

"Aunt Sharon. You wanna come down to the barn? I've got some things you might be interested in."

Billy had exploded into her thoughts suddenly like a bomb. Sharon nearly jumped from her skin, barely hiding her arousal from the young stud. He was wearing a thin white cotton shirt opened to his navel. Sharon could see the sheen of sweat on his chest and shoulders through the material.

"Well, your mother is coining back from town soon and…"

"Come on," he insisted, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her toward the front door. "Nobody's gonna complain. I think you'd really like this, a kind of surprise and all that."

There was something in his voice that sounded strained, Sharon thought. But he was so handsome, so like her husband had been when she first met him. Past and present fused, confusing the attractive thirty-six-year-old. She followed Billy, looking nervously over her shoulder, to make sure Diane didn't seem them. HOW foolish, she thought, rushing down the porch steps and shaking several strands of hair from her face. She was doing nothing wrong.

Billy talked little, picking up his pace. They passed the first barn, the one used more frequently. Right now her handsome, muscular nephew was going to show her something in that strange, deserted building her sister had mentioned was rarely if ever used.

"See? I've fixed it… well, me and some of the boys around here," Billy said, stopping at the top of a small hillock and pointing to the freshly painted building.

Shielding her eyes from the setting sun, Sharon did notice fresh paint on the barn. Some of the chinks in the walls had been repaired as well. How odd! And yet none of the fields surrounding the building were cultivated. What on earth could Billy be using this for? Helen had said nothing about this.

"Come on."

He helped her down the steep incline, his fingers feeling terribly warm, almost scalding hot against her wrists. Sharon thought about going back. Thoughts of her and Billy doing something rather carnal in the barn flashed through her mind frequently as they approached the building. There was a padlock on the front doors, a lock that had been opened earlier.

Sharon looked at her nephew, then walked in, smelling the sharp, pungent odor of gasoline and fresh paint. It was rather dark in there. At first, she could barely make out anything except Billy behind her. Then, as her eyes opened to the dim light, Sharon realized something was terribly amiss.

There were strange, frightening-looking instruments on the wall – whips, riding crops, straps. There were pulleys screwed into the overhead crossbeams.

The door slammed shut behind Sharon, making her wheel around and look at her nephew with large, frightened eyes. Billy was smirking at her, standing there, his hands on his hips.

"I know you've been wantin' to fuck me. I've seen it, Aunt Sharon. I've seen you lookin' at my crotch, probably wonderin' how hung I am," he said with a laugh.

Sharon went white with humiliation. She shook her head from side to side, opening her mouth to speak. But her embarrassment was so great nothing came out.