Shit! Rebecca cursed as she finally succeeded in lifting the window into the dining room from the porch outside. The ages of dust, dirt, and grime seemed to wedge the window pane in place permanently and the screech of wood on metal on a decade of buildup echoed. But Rebecca needed to open the window because she misplaced her keys, tonight of all nights. And she misplaced her keys because for the first time in her young adult life, she was drunk. And returned home after curfew. So it was this or face the wrath of her father.
Rebecca's father truly loved and cared for her. She knew that without a doubt. He showed it often, but sometimes the ways in which she received his love proved, well, complicated. He loved her, her mother, but he loved God most of all. And that meant Rebecca needed to behave as a good Christian daughter of a good Christian man should. To her mind, this mostly meant NOT doing a bunch of things. Like premarital sex, of course. Drinking alcohol was definitely on that list.
Becca knew this. She strived her entire life to meet his lofty standards and often succeeded. A straight-A student, active in her local church, and obsessed with serving the most volunteer hours in her school's history, Rebecca Foster did not have time to drink alcohol. And certainly not time for sex before marriage. She concerned herself with which of the many prestigious universities to attend from which she received acceptance letters and scholarship offers.
But Lily convinced her that this one night, she should go out. Everyone was going, included on this list of everyone was Jericho, the leader of the praise and worship group at Becca's church. She knew Lily was manipulating her. Rebecca and Lily experienced all the moments required before best friends solidified into true best friends forever, and they had been through them all. All except, well, that one that required turning in a V-card for a different kind of social currency. Lily claimed to be ready, more than ready. Rebecca stayed steadfast, reminding Lily of her commitment with a flash of the purity ring on her left ring finger. Her father gave it to her personally.
It was that very ring that made a clanging noise as she struggled over the windowsill one smooth stem at a time. Everyone at church said Rebecca was beautiful, a perfect example of the virginal values that should be instilled in all girls if parents did not want them to grow up to be Satanists, or homosexuals, or possibly worst of all, sluts.
Despite the V-card in her back pocket, Rebecca looked more slut than Virgin Mary tonight. And in Rebecca's strict household, the feat to be dressed as such was a minor miracle in and of itself. Becca picked the tiniest, flimsiest articles of clothing in her closet. The ones with which she always swore to wear accompanying articles of clothing. A sweater over the top, leggings under the skirt.
Instead, after she made some quick alterations with her mother's sewing machine, she managed to turn a soft v-neck sweater into a tube top that flattered her full chest. The snug cashmere felt soft and delicate on her skin. The tiniest bit of cleavage peaked from where the top began. It stopped just above her belly button, giving a glimpse her toned stomach rarely seen in public.
Her low-rise satin skirt clung tightly around her smooth, shapely thighs and her derriere which always had admirers. A fact she often lied to Lily about not caring about when really she did enjoy the attention, especially since it was not like Rebecca went around trying to show it off, it just happened. It was natural, and though there were a few unwanted gropes, generally the male gaze proved pleasant enough for her liking.
She sighed as she managed to step fully into the living room, then went to work on the window, now stuck in the open position instead of closed. As she struggled to apply the appropriate amount of force in the quietest manner possible, a light turned on from the living room, and a familiar, throat cleared in bass notes.
"Daddy!" Becca startled, then continued stammering. "I was- uh I just thought I had ummm... like I totally forgot this ummmmm... thing." Rebecca fought a losing battle between her brain and vocal cords, landing somewhere between both half-operational.
"Don't you dare lie to me, young lady!" Came the booming response from the giant seated in his chair in the living room. The lamp he turned on kept his face in shadow. His large arms and barrel chest remained well-lit, however.
"Sorry, Daddy!" Rebecca's bravery returned, at least momentarily. She leaned into the liquid courage. "Lily had some people from the youth group over to her house."
Her father remained silent, so she continued. "And we were having so much fun praising and learning about God together that I lost track of time."
"Fun? You were having fun praising and worshipping God? Surely you mean something else. Maybe you were so filled with the Spirit you lost track of time? You felt God's presence among you so you did not want to leave until He decided when?"
"Umm uhh, yess, sorry of course. That's, I mean it's fun to experience those things-" her father interrupted her before she could return to babbling less coherently.
"No, it's powerful to experience those things. Much like how God blessed me with power. Power and authority and the gifts to assist with that calling. And that's how I know, you're LYING, Rebecca Foster."
"Daddy- no I just, I didn't mean to lie it was just- we were just friends hanging out no."
"Shut your mouth right now," his voice seemed to boom and fill the house though it was barely above a whisper.
"Yes sir," came her reply.
"Come here and sit on my lap," her father patted his thick, muscular thigh covered by the traditional slacks he were daily. At this late an hour, still wearing them meant her father stayed up waiting for her. He knows she realized.
Reluctantly, she moved into the living room. She heard the exhalation of breath woosh out from his chest, which practically deflated in front of her when she came fully within view. Only then did she remember not only was she drunk, she just presented herself in her father's living room looking like the living incarnation of the harlot of Babylon.
He scoured her with a look from head to toe. He missed nothing. He noticed she styled her hair with curls at the end, it fell across both shoulders and down to the middle of her ample chest. She gets those from her mother he thought crudely. As he continued to assess the situation, he noticed her make-up appeared more prominent than typical. Whatever the top she wore was called, he assumed it came from a store called Sluts-R-Us.
He noticed her toned stomach shimmered with glitter, accentuating the soft, exposed skin. Inviting attention, touch. I bet it's so soft. The skirt was too short by half, he decided. At least. Her thighs shimmered with more glitter, her sinewy muscles just visible enough as she moved under a flattering amount of fat in all the right places. He appreciated all of the genetics she received from her mother, that highly coveted hourglass figure, her bone structure, her full lips. Well, all of the genetics except for this rebellious streak she seemed to display with increasing frequency. I have a solution for that. He relished the thought.
"What is this whore in front of me wearing?" he inquired viciously.
"I'm- I'm sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to look-"
"Like a whore. A sinful, teenage slut! Unbelievable."
She froze, unaccustomed to her father's sharp tongue aimed so painfully directed at her.
"I thought I told you to do something," he said as he moved his head forward a few inches to dramatic effect as it entered the light which cast frightening shadows across his facial features.
"Sorry, Daddy," Rebecca said hurriedly as she quickly scooted directly in front of her father. Rebecca awkwardly moved to sit on his tree-trunk thigh in her tight and short skirt, placing a hand between her legs at the opening of the bottom of her skirt for modesty.
Once seated, Rebecca attempted to work her feminine wiles to pull on Daddy's heartstrings. She knew just how to play that instrument.
"Daddy, I'm really sorry," she exhaled as she continued. "There was this-"
"Have you been drinking, Rebecca?!" As he asked, he made the accusation. He stood up in one dramatic, powerful motion causing Rebecca to fall directly on her ass. "I can smell it on your breath. You look me in the eyes right now and tell me the truth, young lady."
Rebecca knew she was beyond help at this moment. She felt the nerves beginning to misfire across her body. She swore her heart stopped for a beat and she forgot how to inhale oxygen into her lungs for survival, which at this moment looked increasingly unlikely anyway. She allowed the confession to roll out of her all at once.
"Daddy, I'm really sorry. I just had a little bit to drink, I wanted to know what it was like and you're so strict and-"
"Enough!" he yelled before continuing at a less eardrum-aching level, "Enough. I am so... disappointed in you, Rebecca. I'd say I don't know where to start, but I know exactly where to start."
Rebecca knew exactly what her father referred to. Thankfully she rarely experienced the worst version. Of course, she received the mandatory Lord's seed often. In fact, she liked that bit best if she were honest. Especially when she received the Lord's seed blessing, but her sister proved yet again to be unworthy of the gift. Her father explained simply that this was the reason she had the figure of her mother; that both her mother and Becca proved the best recipients of the Lord's seed. But the discipline portion that, for her older sister occurred often, for Becca, was rare. But she knew she would be receiving all of the Lord's remedies for misbehaving girls tonight.
"You. In your place, in the Chapel. NOW!" Rebecca quickly, but without the coordination of a more sober temperament, got to her feet and marched down the hall to the Chapel room. She opened the door and entered into what used to be a large second living room until her parents transformed it into a Chapel room. Her father explained the purpose of the room was to encourage closeness to God, for appropriate corrections when needed, and of course to receive the Lord's seed.
She moved slowly down to the makeshift alter at the far wall and knelt before it. She knew her skirt was extremely short so she attempted to push the bottom up against the back of her thigh and keep it there between her kneeling legs but to no avail. She still felt the material cling tightly to her body and fight to ride up her prominent rear. There she waited for her father to enter, shut the door, and begin the necessary corrections. Rebecca anticipated it would be bad tonight. Maybe the worst ever. But she knew she deserved this.
Entering the chapel, the only light candles lit each morning and snuffed at night. Her father anticipated the need for the Chapel tonight. She knew when he arrived he would turn on the Chapel lights. He always said it's important to come naked before the Lord, every sin and blemish exposed to the light for judgement and atonement.
And that familiar feeling returned to her. A twisted excitement knotted her stomach's insides together with fear and anxiousness. Rebecca's body temperature increased, if not literal degrees then certainly figurative ones. She accidentally let out a belch she did not realize was about to escape in such a vocal manner.
"Such unbelievably inappropriate behavior out of a young lady. I raised you better! Is that the kind of respect you show to Our Father in Heaven?!"
"No sir, I'm very sorry, sir. It was an accident."
"Yes, yes. No doubt a cause of your drunkenness. With the Lord's help, I will make sure you never fall for that temptation again. Isn't that what you want, Rebecca?"
"Yes sir, Daddy. More than anything. Please help make me not fall into temptation." Rebecca's words came automatically and easily. Her father taught her well, trained her properly, and she knew exactly what was expected of her in this room. Absolute obedience and submission. That was what was expected of a true woman of virtue, which Rebecca once considered herself and where she would like to see herself thought of again.
Knowing she deserved this, Rebecca told herself that she would accept this punishment with grace. For her father and the Father above him, she would suffer beautifully. In praise and worship and heartfelt remorse she would display her acceptance of her punishment, the necessity of it. Something inside her thrilled. She knew her body already betrayed certain complicated feelings in this regards.
The toughest part of receiving punishment and corrections from her father was making sure to suppress those feelings, sensations, and urges that accompanied them. She often felt the jolts of powerful electricity fire at her nerve endings and set her body on fire. She bit her bottom lip as she faced the cross, her father behind her back, frightened rightfully but unable to suppress her body's exciting behavior out of her control. She felt her nipples stiffen against the cashmere tube top. She knew her panties would already be wet underneath her short skirt. Even though her eyes were closed, she realized her father had entered the room because the light increased through her eyelids.
"Sinful daughter, you enter tonight dressed as a common harlot. Your dress and behavior are an affront to God in Heaven. You will atone." Her father paused dramatically at the final word. He enjoyed building the tension in his daughter, seeing her breathing elevate. She reminded him so much of her mother with her body's responsiveness to her corrections. And her receipt of the Lord's seed. Even better than her mother at that.
"Present yourself naked before the Lord your God, daughter," came the first instruction Rebecca had anticipated.
Obediently she stood up in front of the altar, made the sign of the cross, then turned to face her father. Humiliation and embarrassment crashed within her as she looked down and saw an unfamiliar amount of exposed skin. Her stomach, her legs. She truly resembled the teenage whore her father claimed.
"I see you are ashamed, daughter. You should be ashamed. Tonight you sinned against God, against your family. You will look at your father as you present your naked body for the Lord's judgment."
When she found the strength to look her father face to face, her mind flashed images from earlier in the night which enhanced her shame. First, the image of her and Lily doing things for attention as guys pleaded and cajoled for the girls to behave as the slut her father thought she was. At first, thinking they could appease the eager males around them, Lily and Rebecca agreed to a kiss.
"Fine, with tongue," Lily said as she rolled her eyes at Rebecca. Becca's eyebrows rose in response but the thrill of all the attention and excitement promised a more mysterious and potentially far greater prize. So Becca gave in, sinking into Lily's arms as they wrapped around Becca's body. Their soft lips met, the familiar but new meeting for the first time. The best friends who knew each other's deepest darkest secrets but not how good a kisser the other was. As their tongues danced in each other's mouths and the two beautiful teen girls swapped spit, testosterone-laced hoops, hollers, and yelps echoed around.
The second image Rebecca lingered upon was far more risqué and sinful... and pleasurable. Becca stumbled through the hallway looking for another bathroom when she heard Lily's voice through a door. An unlocked door, Becca discovered as she slowly turned the handle silently.
Opening the entry increased the volume of Lily's breathless exclamations encouraging the actions of a male grunting to be deeper and harder and faster with his actions. And he apparently made the necessary adjustments because the next thing Lily exclaimed echoed louder than the others, "Yes, just like that! JUST LIKE THAT!"
Rebecca felt the heat rising from her core those hours earlier as it did now as she stood in front of her father. Luckily, the brief and unasked-for trip down memory lane ended as quickly as it began. The remaining images of making out with Lily again, coughing down alcohol, and flashing her breasts fell by the wayside as soon as they tried to appear.
She took a nervous gulp, inhaled then exhaled deeply, and began to follow her father's instructions. She peeled the cashmere tube top from the bottom with both hands, lifting it above her breasts, then off her head, helping guide her own hair through the neck opening til she successfully removed it. She dropped the former sweater turned cashmere haute couture onto the wood floor. Her father gasped, surprised at the lack of any sort of a covering for her breasts.
"Rebecca!" He scorned her using only her name. She blushed with shame and embarrassment and her nipples stiffened at being so exposed in the bright light in front of her father and God. When his eyes finally returned from her perky and firm teenage breasts to her eyes, Rebecca Foster continued.
She unbuttoned her skirt at her hip, a small mostly unnecessary zipper she unzipped slowly. It only prolonged her shame, it did not delay it. She began to feel that heat in her core moving lower down her belly. She felt a tingling sensation between her legs that seemed to call for some relief with only a touch. She let her skirt fall to the floor and stepped out of it.
She now stood in wedges that raised her height to that of 5ft 7 inches. Her 120lbs body weight beautifully...
