"Now, you're all dressed up for me. Yeah, baby, all for me!"

He couldn't rape her like this. What was he talking about? Diane watched him like a hawk trembling in the ropes as Billy studied her, savage grin growing broader with every passing moment. He sighed, then turned away, shuffling through the straw toward the door. Was he going to leave her like this all night? Was he mad? Didn't he know someone – one of the hands, her mother, Aunt Helen – would come in and find her like this?

But no. He was turning to where the tits, bridles and riding crops were. Studying them for a moment, Billy chose a black leather crop, testing it by whipping the thongs against the barn wall, then back to her. Immediately, Diane knew what he was going to do with it. She cried out again through the gag, writhing in her bonds, then stopping as she found herself choking herself with those moves.

Helpless! She was completely helpless, unable to defend herself against her crazy cousin. He snapped the crop against the side of his pants, watching her jump at the cracking sound. Then with a broad motion, he swung the crop up, the leather thongs crackling against one another. Diane's eyes followed them on their inevitable course, hissing through the air until they sliced hotly into her belly flesh.

The teen shrieked through her gag, snapping her head back and feeling the hot, stinging blow radiate through her body.

Billy savored her first scream, drawing the leather around her neck, tightening one of the thongs around her throat, then bringing the handle down to her tits. Diane loathed him more than ever, wishing she could scratch that ugly, hateful face. She sucked in another lungful of air, feeling the straps seem to tighten around her cunt and nipples as she tensed for the next blow.