Fertile Farm: 20 Erotic Farm Girl Collection

by Candy Quinn

  She let out a soft giggle, shaking her head as she looked up at him, all gentle sweetness.

  She bit in her lower lip, drawing it into her mouth before she spoke. “I’m sure I wouldn’t mind that, Father, but I mostly came about the, uh, job. At the school?”

  He tilted his head back, the Father’s mouth opening in a silent ‘ahhh’ as he continued to rub at her shoulders, moving the worn fabric of her town a little as he rubbed with those strong hands.

  “You wish to help teach the little ones for the years ahead, is that it?” he said, a gentle smile upon his face as he smiled at her. “A big responsibility. Not just work wise, but morally.”

  She nodded, looking up at him with such large, wide eyes.

  “Oh, I know, Father,” she promised. “A huge responsibility. But you know I’ve always been passionate about school and learning. I think I could really help there.”

  Her shoulders relaxed with the massage, a light sigh even punctuating her sentence.

  The Father guided her back against the sofa, urging her gently into a more comfortable position as his hands worked upon her.

  “Ah, I know you were always a clever girl, my dear,” he said to her softly, his voice quiet, almost a murmur. “But… it was the wishes of the church to have someone with… an active role in the congregation. A devout soul, to pass on some of the values of our Lord.”

  He looked at her, his emerald eyes rolling down over her tightly wrapped form in a faux innocent manner.

  She thought it a bit strange, the way his hands touched upon her, fingers working away at the tension in her back. But the headiness to his words, she’d never heard him use that tone while preaching, and it gave her pause.

  “Father, once I’m self-sufficient and able to attend again, you know I will,” she vowed.

  “Oh, I know it, child,” he said to her fondly, his voice so sincere and gentle. He even scooted over the sofa toward her a little closer, nestling in against her. “But the Lord asks that we make sacrifices for Him. That we take actions in His name to show our devotion,” he said, a sympathetic look upon his face. “What sort of leader for our flock would I be if I ignored that?”

  “Is there... someone you have in mind?” she asked, her voice so airy as she looked up at him, paranoia in her gaze even as he moved so near to her. His warmth amplifying her own.

  The Father wet his lips and very carefully ended his rubbing, taking his hands from her shoulders as he smiled and reclined back.

  “Well my child, when people stray from the flock… it can be hard to tell if they are still truly devoted to our Lord. Willing to do whatever is necessary to spread His word,” he says, sounding so genuine and heartfelt. He reached a hand out to rest upon her knee, right beneath the hem of her skirt. “Are you, my child?”

  “Of course,” she said, aghast he’d even, for a moment, doubt her faith. Her resolve!

  She nearly trembled beneath his touch, fear beginning to work its way into her heart. She’d been strong until then, certain that she could sway him to support her. Yet the way he was talking, she was becoming more and more concerned that she couldn’t.

  He could even see her shaking with how pronounced it was, and he reached back out, put his arms about her and rested them at her shoulders.

  “Oh no, my child, don’t quiver in fear,” he said with a gentle smile. “The Lord does not close a door without opening a window,” he said in that reassuring yet authoritarian voice of his. “If you wish to show your devotion, I may be able to give you that opportunity. That is… if you are willing to take it,” he said, tilting his head down as he gave her a scrutinizing look.

  “Of course! I’ll do whatever you want! Come every week, without fail. I know daddy won’t be pleased, of course, but he’ll understand. It’s for the good of the town. For all the children!” She didn’t mean to sound over dramatic or like a martyr, but she was incredibly passionate, and she looked over his eyes, his smile, her brows furrowed so sternly.

  “That’s good,” he said with a serious expression and a sympathetic nod. “But in the meantime, I need something special from you. An act of contrition for all your missed time from the house of our Lord,” he said, and he stood up, walked over towards his desk.

  “You know, so many of the Saints suffered for our Lord. What I ask of you is but a tiny sliver of their penances,” he explained as he moved to look through his drawers.

  And Amy was nodding, leaning forward on the couch as her skin stuck to the material, the heat gathering beneath her knees.

  “Yes, Father, of course. You know my devotion, of course,” she said, her words coming out quickly and passionately.

  He smiled over at her as he bent down, fishing a long, leather implement from his drawer. She recognized it immediately as a tool that was used to discipline the very unruly students at Sunday school.

  “Then you will bend over my desk, lift your skirt and offer your mortal flesh to the Lord’s tender mercies, won’t you?” he said, testing the implement against his other palm with a slight smack.

  She stared in disbelief, her eyes flicking between him and the tool, her body stiffening slightly. It was far too warm in the room, the fire still crackling away, and she felt a bead of sweat trail down her spine, making her shiver.

  “Father,” she said, her breath panted a bit from the heat, the confusion.

  And yet she stood, her arms folded beneath her chest as she glanced to the door. “I don’t know if that’s, like, appropriate?”

  The Father furrowed his brow at her in confusion.

  “Not appropriate, my child? Not appropriate,” he moved towards her just a couple footsteps, his looming presence a little more imposing. He looked at her with a dark sort of expression, his voice growing harder, “Saving your soul, giving yourself over to God, and making up for your shortcomings is… beyond appropriate.”

  He was so tall, and when he spoke to her like that, it seemed to be all the more apparent.

  “It’s just, aren’t I a little old for that?” she pressed, her head tilted to the side and letting her braid snake along her bicep. Her heart raced as her brows furrowed with confusion, with anxiety. She wouldn’t let something so simple stand between her and her job, though.

  “You’re right,” he said to her as if conceding a point. “It’s the sort of minor punishment for a child. But you have been away from the flock for a while now, and you are a woman. In every way,” he remarked, his eyes roaming down over her voluptuous figure as he spoke. “We will do something more special, but first…” he pointed the leather strap at his desk with such authority.

  She was weak to his commanding presence and she took a step forward, arm over her stomach as she looked back at him curiously. Then another step. And another.

  It was difficult for her, but she was so afraid of not getting the job she desired and had dreamed of ever since she was a little girl.

  “And then you’ll endorse me for the position?”

  His demeanor shifted, “Put your fate in the hands of our Lord, and you shall have the life you deserve, my child.” He intoned those words so solemnly, so comfortingly, it was hard to believe anything but. Even though the Father was brandishing a weapon, that large man standing there so ominously. Such a big, brute of a man.

  Most of the men of the town were hard, worn that way by decades of hard work. But never had she felt so frail and dainty, only the curves of her hips and ass and breasts giving a bit more size to her.

  But even though she flushed and felt so terribly embarrassed, she obeyed.

  She leaned over his desk, her large breasts pressed into it as she looked at him over her shoulder, skeptically.

  “That’s it child,” he said soft and encouragingly as he stepped in behind her. He kept that gentle demeanor, and reached to the hem of her skirt. She could feel him grasp it at her thighs as he delayed just momentarily.

  “To take on a position of authority such as a teacher, one must first be prepared to humble t
hemself,” he stated just before he lifted her skirt and exposed the round curve of her rear.

  Only her panties hid her from him as he inspected her.

  She couldn’t remember ever feeling so flushed and embarrassed in her life, but she understood it. That it was part of the ‘humbling’ he spoke of. Knowing that her flesh wasn’t hers to control and own, that it was God’s to do as He may.

  And the Father was his representative on earth.

  But still, she couldn’t help but wriggle, trying to hide from his gaze.

  She could hear the Father mumble a prayer, it was all so official. Right up until the leather strap slapped her pale ass cheeks. The skin so milky light there, unlike her arms and legs. The hard crack resounded upon her skin and he let loose a sigh, watching as her skin turned red from the smack.

  Tears sprung to her eyes at the old, familiar sensation. It felt so much sharper, though, than she recalled. So much more intense.

  “No no, this won’t do,” he said to her, sounding disappointed.

  She trembled on the desk, her hands holding her up as she tried desperately to stay in position, her maryjanes pushing her up a couple inches.

  “What?” she asked in a quivering voice, trying to look at him. “What won’t do?”

  “The strikes have to be upon raw, bare flesh,” he said to her so matter-of-factly. “Your panties,” he explained without her asking, “They are in the way. They’ll have to go if you hope to have absolution for your sin of deserting the church.”

  There it was, that demand. So crass, so simple.

  Yet she knew that was different from her childhood, and she rose up, turning to face him and shaking her head so desperately.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she said softly, her ass smarting from that one blow. “Father, please, I’ll do anything, but... I don’t understand.”

  The Father’s face turned cross.

  “The Lord gives us everything, child. He gives us life, He gives us love. He gives us the food on our plate, the air in our lungs. All he asks is faith, faith Amy,” he said to her, repeating it, and he sounded so controlling so ominous. “Faith is belief unquestioning. And you — child — ask far too many questions. How can I entrust the children to such a woman?” he asked, looking almost angry at her.

  She shrank before him, her eyes widening. She’d never seen him like that before, and certainly not so upset at her. He’d only ever been kind and generous, and she wondered, then, if she was simply being irrational.

  Something within her said no, that she should simply leave, but she thought back to her teacher, at how important it was to him that she pleased the Father and the Mayor.

  So she turned back to the desk, and, burning with shame, hooked her fingers into her panties and let them drop towards the ground, unveiling her pinkened sex beneath the light bit of fur, clenched between her thighs.

  Though as she bent over, there was no fully hiding it with the way her body naturally flowered before his eyes.

  “That’s better,” he said in a low husk, and though she couldn’t see him, he eyed that precious slit of hers, reached a hand out and very nearly touched it. “Don’t move,” he told her instead, and he pressed his free hand down upon her lower back. “You have a lot to make up for. Not just your absence, but your doubts. Your questioning.”

  The next crack landed against her fully bare backside raw and hard, the third smack even grazed her dainty pink folds and made those delicate lips sting.

  She let loose a wail, her body so unused to such sharpness. She was a tough woman, used to grueling hours on the farm, but that pain was utterly different.

  Her head lurched back and she tried to move away, to flee from him and his wicked sting, but he held her too roughly. All she could do was shimmy that rounded ass, with the red markings lancing across it as she whimpered.

  “Father!” she cried to his punishment, tears making her vision murky.

  “Shh,” he said to her, bending over her form. “Hush my child, there are but forty seven more to go,” he said to her, his fingertips trailing over her bottom sweetly. Those thick, long fingers touching her bare, rouged ass cheeks in a gesture that seemed to be intended to calm her, ease her suffering.

  But that wasn’t a possibility. Forty seven?

  She could barely have handled those three without becoming an utter wreck, and she trembled so violently, flicking her braid to her back as she looked at him with those pools of blue eyes.

  “Father,” she began to plead, her youthful face contorted as though she were going to protest. But she knew what was at stake. And fifty lashes was a small price to pay for her future, and her eternal soul.

  “Please make it fast,” she finally said.

  “Ask and ye shall receive, my child,” he said to her, and the subsequent lashes came on fast. One, crack! Two, thwack! Three, four, five… on they went until her ass was stinging and she couldn’t help but cry out and he stopped.

  “We aren’t even half way there yet, my child. Do you not have it in you to bear this penance for your Lord and Saviour?” he asked her, his hand rested upon her burning ass cheek, stroking along that smooth, stinging flesh.

  But her entire body was quaking, her knees threatening to give out as she tried to push herself forward, away from the punishment. She couldn’t take anymore, her face contorted in pain and anguish as her breath was so hard.

  She wanted so badly to have the job, his acceptance, but she couldn’t take another of those lashes.

  “Please!” she said simply, and she didn’t even know what she was begging or pleading for. For there to be another way.

  “Hush my child,” he said to her softly, reaching his free hand up to push her hair back from her face. “There is but one other way, my child. One simple way and you can have all the Lord’s blessing, and walk out of here with your head held high. You just need to offer your flesh up, without question… without regret. Can you do that? Can you hand yourself over so willingly?” he asked, sounding so sweetly interested in helping her.

  Perhaps it was her naivety that had her agreeing so quickly to his demands, or else just a desire to not feel any more of those cracks against her tender ass. She looked at him so pitifully as she nodded, her lips dry beneath her tongue as she licked them over.

  “Good girl,” he said to her, and he laid down the leather strap. Though what he did then confused her, though she dared not ask a question.

  He circled back around his desk, and opened a drawer. Out of it, he pulled some ropes. Very skillfully he wound one about her wrist, and then tied the other end to the leg of the table. He repeated this with the other arm before going back around before her.

  “Think hard on our Lord, my child, and it’ll all be over soon,” he said as he worked open his frock.

  The Father was insatiable. After all that time watching her pale cheeks turn red, when he pulled open his black vestments his dick was bulging and ruddy, throbbing with need as he looked down upon her poor, abused cunny lips.

  “This child offers herself up to the Lord, and through me… He accepts,” and with that, he pushed his hips forward, brushes that thick, purple crown against her bare folds, teasing them with the pre-cum glistening tip of his manhood.

  She let out an incredibly startled cry, so uncertain of what was happening. She was a virgin, never touched, and his sudden press made her feel so many conflicted, confusion emotions.

  She tried to shift away, but those bindings...

  Amy couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything more that bite down on her lower lip and feel him so wholly against that most sensitive part of her body. She was throbbing so hotly with a longing she didn’t understand, her cunny pulsing with a need that Amy didn’t have words for.

  She had never indulged with boys in all her years growing up, had always been a good girl. So when the Father pushed through her hymen and stretched that barrier taut about his dick, it was the first time she’d had a man inside her.

  He let loo
se such a deep, satisfied groan, his cock swelling inside her. He clutched onto her ass and hips, and sank right to the very hilt in her. The large, husky man trembled with the overwhelming pleasure of her cunny.

  It was even more intense than the lashings, though in an entirely different way. Her mind sparked with sensations and she let out another cry, her pussy throbbing about him as he took her virginity so rudely.

  Yet his lashings, her humiliation, it had wettened her for him, and made her grow hot. Another bead of sweat ran down the hollow of her throat between her collarbones before soaking into her too tight top, her skirt flipped up over her hips.

  Father Mackay bent over her, his fingers moving through her hair as he tugged back just slightly. He kissed the back of her head and murmured to her quietly.

  “You have been a very good girl all these years, Amy,” he said to her so appreciatively. “The Lord will reward you for this… I swear it,” he said, tugging back his hips and beginning to pump into her. The thrust of his cock sent his balls swinging pendulously up against her cunny as he rocked, such lewd, low moans filling the air as he took her atop his desk.

  He was her priest, the one who’d always taught her right from wrong, and even though her stomach was twisted with confusion, she still trusted him.

  That what he said, what he was doing, it was only right. Only just.

  But still she couldn’t stop her quivering atop his desk, the rope biting into her limbs as she panted against him. Every time his hips slammed against her ass, another shock went through her, and she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering.

  He sank his fingers into her hips and ass cheeks, made her flesh dimple about his digits as he squeezed and rutted into her. He was huffing, panting hard as he fucked her atop that desk, made her little knees tremble.

  That thick cock of his plowed in deep, its bulbous mushroom tip stretched her out with each thrust, eased her little virginal cunny wider, trained it to take him better as he fucked her so enthusiastically.