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Testimony
by Mija

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 purchased them?

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 her.

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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