The town of Summerfield was very religious – and proud of it. Over several generations, they’d developed their own fundamentalist take on the Bible – not one approved by any major church, but one that worked for them just fine.
It was their take on courtship, though, that most often interested visitors.
The pastors of Summerfield felt that the Bible was very clear – a woman could not consent to sex. Giving permission for a man to have any sexual interaction with her was sinful, no matter what the circumstances.
But on the other hand, rape wasn’t necessarily a sin. A man was justified in raping a woman where “her behaviour had incited it” or where “she required discipline and chastisement”. The town’s peculiar local laws called this “Summerfield Consent”.
It meant that when girls wanted to have sex, they had to get a little creative – as Justin Craddy discovered when he passed through Summerfield on his way to the coast.
It had been a long drive, and it was only early afternoon, but he wasn’t going to reach his destination by nightfall, so he stopped in Summerfield for a drink and a hotel room to sleep in.
The only accommodation was upstairs from the town pub, so he booked himself a bed, and then ordered some drinks. He had intended to sit by himself in a booth, but he was hailed from a nearby table – “We don’t often get tourists. Sit down, friend, and share a drink.”
The speaker was an older man – clearly a farmer – and sitting beside him was a gorgeous teenaged girl, maybe 18 or 19 years of age.
“I’m Hank,” said the man, “and this is my daughter Amberleigh. Say hello, Amberleigh.”
“Hello, sir,” she said, biting her lip sexily.
“I’m just passing through,” said Justin, sitting at the table. “I don’t really know anything about this town.”
“Summerfield’s awful,” pouted Amberleigh. “Did you know that it’s legal to rape girls here, if they deserve it?”
“We just believe that it’s not a woman’s decision whether or not she should be fucked,” said Hank. “That’s a choice that God put in the hands of men.”
Justin frowned. “That’s – “ He stopped abruptly. Underneath the table, Amberleigh had just put her shoeless foot in his lap, and was wiggling her toes against his crotch. He stared at her. She bit her lip in mock innocence, and rubbed harder at his cock – which immediately began to harden.
“Don’t you think some girls deserve to be raped?” asked Amberleigh.
“Uh…” he said, swallowing. “Maybe some girls.”
“At church, the pastor says that God intended our first sex to be painful, to make us cry and feel violated,” said Amberleigh. “He said that the feeling that we’re dirty and sinful is God’s plan for us, and that after our first rape we should thank the man who was generous enough to give it to us, and clean his cock with our mouths.”
“Um…” said Justin.
“I *really* don’t want to be raped,” said Amberleigh. She appeared to be trying to unzip his fly with her foot, but was not nearly dextrous enough to manage it. The efforts were very distracting, though. “After church, all us girls attend the Christian Girls meeting, where we take off our panties in front of the pastor, and pinch our clits so that it hurts, while he tells us why we’re sinful whores.”
Hank frowned. “Not that that makes her a good girl,” he said. “The pastor publishes a list each week of the girls whose gashes got wet from having their clits pinched, and Amberleigh is top of the class every week.”
“I’m sorry, daddy,” said Amberleigh, looking up at him and biting her lip.
Justin felt uncomfortable, sitting here with an erection from a teen girl while talking to her father. “I really should get going…” he said – although he didn’t have anywhere to get going to.
“Oh, of course!” said Amberleigh. “Why don’t I walk you to wherever it is you’re going?”
“That isn’t necessary…” protested Justin – but there was nothing for it, and soon he found himself exiting the bar with the girl, leaving her father still drinking.
“I’ll take that,” said Amberleigh, taking his beer bottle out of his hand, and swigging a long mouthful.
“Should you be drinking?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “So where are you going?” she asked.
“I don’t really know,” he confessed.
“How about we go out to the fields?” she said. “It’s pretty there.”
As they walked, Amberleigh said, “You know they don’t let girls take birth control here? It’s sinful.” And then, “And if a guy gets a girl pregnant, she belongs to him then. He doesn’t even have to marry her, if he doesn’t want, but she has to do as she’s told. My friend got pregnant to a man, but then he married her younger sister, and he makes her watch and masturbate while he rapes the sister.”
They reached the edge of town, where a low fence separated the streets from a wide field of grass. Amberleigh effortlessly hopped the fence – and then just as effortlessly stripped off her skirt, and wiggled her panties down her legs, leaving her bare-cunted.
“Amberleigh…” Justin began.
She took another swig of the beer, then looked back at him. “Please don’t rape me, whatever you do,” she said. “Because you could, you know. I’m bare-cunted in public, half drunk, with a strange man, telling him all kinds of slutty things. I definitely deserve to be raped. But please don’t.”
She walked away from him, her hips swaying, her nude butt wiggling.
He followed her.
And when they got to the copse of trees over the rise, he pushed her down in the grass, hard, and shoved his cock as deep up her sopping wet rapehole as it would go, and fucked her without a single concern for her pleasure until he orgasmed.
The pastor lied to Amberleigh. Her first sex was certainly painful, but it didn’t make her cry – it made her cum three times. But she did clean his cock off with her mouth and thank him.
He accepted her thanks – then slapped her, pushed her down and raped her again.
And this time he did it harder, and hurt her more, because it wasn’t just the thought of raping her she had put in his head – but the thought of raping her while she cried. And he had decided he would just keep trying until she made his fantasy come true…
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