Chapter 6: A Story Called Farm Girl

Amy Torch was bent over the corner of her father's bed, her bare young ass held high in the air with straining legs, her naked tits pressed roughly into the king-size mattress. Behind her, the young girl's dad was holding her in place by pushing down between her shoulder blades with his left hand; his right, the girl knew, was pulled back, ready to come down and slap either her left or right ass-cheek. If she opened her eyes they wouldn't see much because her adorable 14-year-old face was pressed into the mattress covers. The only thing the young teen could do was cry, and blubber, and play with her pussy.

Yes, her right arm was lying beneath her squashed body, threatening to go numb. But her hand was between her parted legs at an awkward angle anyway, barely giving her the ability to tickle her peach-fuzzed mound. She was also soaking wet down there, a detail that hadn't gone unnoticed to the sobbing girl.

"FIFTEEN!"

The brutal smack of her dad's large hand onto her soft round butt was enough to give the terrified girl the energy necessary to scream again. The pain was intense. But it was doing something strange to her body too, making it flinch and quiver and intensify the building pleasure already generated by her tickling fingers at her cunt's entrance.

"Th-thank-y-y-y-you," the girl blubbered. Why was she thanking him? She didn't know.

Then it came to her in a flash: she had to thank him. It was what her daddy had demanded. With every spank she was to thank him, or they'd have to start over.

The girl gasped repeatedly as she tried to groan, sob, and breathe at the same time. Suddenly she heard the call for sixteen, then seventeen. Each time she managed to thank him audibly and coherently, even as her body writhed with unsurpassed levels of pleasure and pain.

She had until the count of fifty, she knew suddenly, to cum. If she didn't have an orgasm by then he'd start over. Those were his rules. If she didn't cum at all he'd abuse her cute ass all night: he didn't care. He took pleasure out of hurting her.

My daddy likes to hurt me, the girl thought. I give him pleasure when he hurts me, and he gives me pleasure when he-

"TWENTY ONE!"

The pain was incomprehensible. She had to cum, she just had to! Never had the girl been so worked up before but never had she been in so much pain. There was no way she'd be able to endure another fifty strokes; if she didn't cum by the end of this first round, she was a goner. The thought terrified her. And it turned her on even more as she desperately flicked her numb fingers at her dripping, trembling teenage twat.

And she was getting ready to cum anyway. She was almost there. But suddenly the young girl realized she'd failed to thank her father at the 21st stroke and at that very terrifying moment, she awoke with a gasp and a scream.

She was in her bed. The room was dark. Her chest was heaving and her pussy, wet and juicy, was trembling from the nightmare she'd just had.

Six months had actually passed since Amy had contemplated calling the cops on her dad. Six months since he'd physically assaulted her. During those six months a lot had happened: summer had come and gone, a birthday had been celebrated, and Amy had begun the 8th grade at Westmoreland Middle School. What hadn't happened was another attack. In fact, her father hadn't done anything even remotely sexual to the ever developing young teenager aside from the occasional secret glare when she wore more provocative clothing. There hadn't been any late night intrusions into her room (as far as she knew, anyway), no casual brushings in the hall, nothing. There hadn't even been any hugging or family kisses.

Amy's relationship with her father had definitely changed. She was more timid around him, more apt to do what he asked her to. Her dissent into teenage rebellion had been all but broken the night he'd raped her in his bedroom, when he'd spanked her and fucked her and made her cum harder than she ever had before or ever had since. After realizing the alternative to living with him-which was living with strangers in some foster care home at God knew where-she'd known she was stuck. Her only hope was to avoid getting him angry at her again.

And it had worked. Amy's dad hadn't been angry with her at all. Sure, her last report card before summer break had pissed him off a bit, but all he'd done was take away her brand new cell-phone (which she could afford, now, thanks to the huge increase in her allowance) for a few days. Around the time of her birthday, near the beginning of the new school year, she'd also pushed her luck by daring to bring one of her new boyfriend's home with her. Other than that, he'd been a real gentle giant, a giant she'd been extremely careful to avoid provoking.

Amy had long since broken up with Shane. He was terrible in bed, the girl had decided, plus she'd become quite attracted to his best friend, Andrew. The split had been bitter but before long Andrew had caught the girl on the rebound, and shortly after that he'd become her third-ever fuck. Unfortunately, he'd been as bad as Shane.

The girl's next few hookups had been with the remainder of Shane's circle: Tim, Logan, and B (only hours after that disaster of a fuck she'd forgotten what the "B" stood for). All of them had had girlfriends when she'd dated Shane, but such is the nature of teenage relationships that she'd caught them all single when she'd needed to (although she still didn't quite believe that Logan had officially left his girlfriend during the week they were fucking). After those guys had realized what she was doing, fucking one of them after the other and then dumping them, she'd become an outcast. She wasn't friends with any of them anymore. None of them trusted her anymore. They'd discarded her-each had gotten what they wanted from her, and now they hated her.

They'd been her only real friends, and they'd each loved her in their own way. Why they had all turned on her at the end was something Amy still couldn't totally understand. Sure, she had screwed up by blatantly fucking each of them, and for telling lies to cover herself, and for behaving like, well, a child-and a slut. But she had always been the child of the group, the slut, the outcast, the youngest and only female! Their sudden rejection of her had left the girl feeling desperate and alone.

Thankfully, the money she was now receiving for her new allowance had earned her some new friends, friends that were quick to accept her when she no longer had Shane and his group around. And these were actually friends her age, kids her own gender, classmates. Amy's early summer break had been filled with trips to the mall with these girls where she'd buy the clothes that had previously been inaccessible to her, the clothes that made you cool. The fact that she could keep up with their spending made them like her. But the fact that she was clearly the cutest and sexiest of them made them jealous. And that's why, just after she celebrated her 14th birthday near the beginning of the first marking period of the 8th grade, they'd all turned on her.

Jeff. It'd been because of Jeff. Jeff was Laura's older brother, and Laura was the real queen of Amy's new clique. Jeff was a lot older, though. He was almost 25. And at her 14th birthday party, Amy had fucked him.

Because of his age and his physique, Amy had fantasized that this man would be able to make her cum hard, cum for real, something the boys her age seemed incapable of doing. She'd become infatuated with him. Fact was, he'd been part of the reason she'd become such good friends with Laura in the first place. Unfortunately the sex with Jeff had been the usual: a quick poke in, a few thrusts, a spurt or two of cum inside her young pussy. Not only had she not had an orgasm that night, Amy hadn't even been completely undressed when the older man had spewed his seed inside her tight twat.