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I used to be a very permissive parent - more
interested in being Emily's friend than father and selfishly
interested in my work.
But last June a question scrawled on an envelope
caught my eye.
"Where is your daughter?"
I wondered - in her room of course. But then
I checked. Emily wasn't there. After 10:00 pm, after she'd said
"'night, Dad", and my daughter wasn't in her room.
Anxious for clues of her activities, I pulled
everything out of Emily's drawers, examining her clothes. Such
suggestive things, holding the very scent of sex! Had I
But wasn't Emily chaste, only a child? As
I fingered her lacey panties, and gazed at a picture of her
wearing a string bikini, nipples hard, lips parted, I recognized
her - not my daughter but Eve.
God made my duty clear.
Brethren, I awaited her return and passed
through hell. Images of Emily the Seductress, her young flesh
spread, enticing some panting idiot boy. Skin bare, scented
and soft. Legs wide . . .
This vision - my punishment for sinful neglect.
She returned after midnight, brethren, and
my blood boiled. Emily claimed she was visiting another girl
but I knew the truth - her words were a wanton's lies.
I confronted her with the truth of my vision
and, met with denials, removed my belt. Emily started to run
from the parlor but I was determined to beat the devil from
Then the slut pouted and tried to tempt me
with her "pleasedaddys," slim curves and lipsticked
mouth. How had I missed that my daughter was such a whore she'd
seduce her father?
I yanked her to the couch, tearing her dress
off. Emily wore only panties beneath and those I ripped from
her as she lay sprawled, feet kicking as she still tried to
run. Yet even then she wiggled her nakedness seductively, trying
to avoid her deserved and burning punishment.
The demoness screamed as I whipped Emily,
red stripes on her flesh saving her from the fires of hell.
As she begged and pleaded, I hardened my heart and whipped harder
still. Tears washed her harlot face clean.
Still she denied her wantonness, pretending
not to understand me. The belt licked between her thighs, locating
her sinfulness. Despite the pain, Emily spread her legs at my
command and I demanded to know if she remained a virgin. I couldn't
trust her assurances so checked her myself.
When my finger met the resistance which showed
me she wasn't yet lost, I whipped her yet again. I told Emily
she'd be whipped weekly and I'd inspect her body for signs of
her fleshy weakness. I ordered her to thank God for showing
me how to save her before her very soul was lost.
My own eyes filled as my Emily, her nakedness
clothed in the beauty of God's red stripes, fell to her knees
and at my direction kissed the belt which still whips the devil
from her body.
Jesus saves, brethren.
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