Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. This is an age-play fantasy intended for adults. If you are offended by such things, the simple solution is not to read it. This fantasy story is in no way advocating for any actual minors to be involved with actual adults. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VIRTUE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 1 My daddy has always watched out for my virtue. He's really my step-daddy but he's the only one I've ever known, so I just call him daddy anyways. My "real" daddy died when I was a baby, and my momma took comfort in the church to have support to raise me. Her own parents were long gone and she was alone without other relatives. She met my step-daddy there in fact. He'd just started as the new preacher when I was about three. I don't remember it, but she fell in love with the handsome young and unattached preacher, as did many of the single ladies her age. He fell in love back with only her, and I suppose me. They courted and dated and I was babysat by a never-ending series of old church ladies who watched and gossiped about the blossoming romance like it was a live soap opera created for them. Once they were feeling serious about each other, they also made time for "family" dates - taking me to the park together, or for ice cream, or a movie. By the time I was four they were engaged and they married six months later. Momma came back from her honeymoon with my little brother already percolating inside of her belly. We moved into the parsonage after they got married and became a real family. Daddy had told me to call him that, and I was happy to do so. It made my heart feel full to have a momma and daddy and a pretty new house. I was full of pride (a sin, of course) at being the preacher's daughter and living in the nice white house up on the hill behind the church. They told me about my new little brother who would be here soon and let me help decorate the nursery for him. We got a puppy. Everything was pretty much my idea of perfect. When momma was most of the way though her pregnancy, daddy took over more things, to let her rest. They both explained how my brother was going to take a lot of her time and energy and that daddy and I would have to be good about doing things for ourselves and each other more now. Momma told me I was getting to be a big girl which I liked to hear. I'd started kindergarten and took care of my puppy, so I felt up to the task of being more self-reliant. Daddy wasn't a hellfire kinda preacher, but he was big on everyone doing good works, and taking care of each other, and watching out for each other's souls. He'd say, "Don't judge, nudge." He said we were all born of sin, and were all sinners, and our whole lives were to do our best to make god happy. And because we were all sinners, even him, all we could fairly do was nudge people in a good direction. Never be pushy, just compassionate and kind and offer a better direction. Momma started going to be even earlier than I did, and daddy would put on a cartoon for me while he went up to rub her feet while she fell asleep. Then he'd come find me and take me upstairs for my bath. I was old enough to do it all myself so he just sat and read and chatted with me while I washed up. He'd wrap me in fluffy towel and carry me to my bedroom to get dried off and into my nightgown. It was a routine that brought a lot of comfort and I liked spending time with him, just us. He called me his angel and read me a story every night, whatever book I wanted. We'd had the routine going for about a week when he told me about what God had told him. He was drying me off when he told me he'd been praying about how he could be the best daddy any girl would want and how he had heard God say he had to protect my virtue. He said he prayed about that more and tried to figure out how he could best do this. He knelt down before me, pulling my nightgown, the pink one with ruffled sleeves, over my head. He reached into his pocket and took out the kind of box real jewelry comes in, and opening up for me to see. There were two gold rings in the box, each engraved with a "V". He held it out to me and told me it was going to be a symbol of my commitment to remain a virtuous person and his commitment to guide me and help me to do so. He took the small ring and slipped it on my right pointer finger. Then he put the other one on his same finger. I felt overwhelmed with love for my daddy and held the shiny ring up to my face, moving my hand to see the light glint off of it. "Do you promise to be a good girl then? Promise to let me guide you to virtue? And promise to pray with me every night about it and keep those prayers between you and me and god?" I was pretty sure no one had ever asked me a more important question in my life and it made me feel so grown up. "I promise daddy," I said, and hugged him, a full on arms thrown around his neck type of hug. "Good girl. Now let us pray," he said. I went to kneel by the bed and was surprised when he scooped me up and laid me on the bed instead. "This prayer will be a little different darlin'. I'll guide you through it though." He sat on the bed near my knees and carefully folded my nightgown up to my stomach. He laid his right hand gently on the area my underwear normally covered and started to pray. I felt a little weird being touched there because no one ever did that, but I wasn't going to interrupt. "Dear Lord, help guide my hand to protect her virtue. Help her be sure and confident in herself and her purity. In Jesus' name, amen." "Amen," I echoed, ever obedient. I opened my eyes to see him pulling a small bottle out of his pocket and set it on my nightstand. He took my legs - each hand easily wrapping around my calves, and pushed them up so my knees touched my chest. "Hold on your legs and keep them open," he said. "Next step, darlin', is to anoint you with holy oil," he said. He poured something out of the bottle, the holy oil I guessed, onto my private place and then set his hand back on me. He started rubbing the oil around and I smelled oranges and cinnamon in the air. I started to feel a little warm down there, and slippery from the oil. He kept rubbing, stroking his fingers up and down, stopping to poke and prod sometimes which made me feel fluttery and tingly. Then, all of the sudden, I felt something go inside me. It didn't hurt, not really, but it felt incredibly weird and a bit uncomfortable. I looked down and could see it was the finger he'd put the ring on that was inside me. He was moving it in and out and the more he did that the more I felt funny, but in a good way. "Daddy, it feels funny," I told him, squirming a bit. "Shhhh darlin', just relax while I put the oil in you. Whatever you feel is just god helping us out." He continued to stroke and then pushed a thumb against me a little bit above where he was moving his finger. I felt floaty and then like my stomach was clenching up over and over, but it felt really good. After that stopped, he pulled his finger out and told me I'd been a good girl and thanked me for praying with him. He guided my legs back down and folded my nightgown back in place, then picked up the book of fairy tales we'd been reading and read me a story, tucked me in, kissed my forehead, and left. This became the new normal. Each night after my bath we'd pray and he'd anoint me with oil and rub it all around and inside of me. Once I got the floaty feeling and he could feel me squeeze his finger, he would read to me and put me to bed. The first Sunday after this started he preached a sermon about how parents were responsible for the well-being of their children, and how in turn, we children were responsible for seeking guidance from our parents. He even proudly announced, "I've pledged to protect my daughter's virtue, and I challenge other fathers to do the same." He didn't explain the exact prayer, but certainly this sermon reinforced to me that what we were doing was holy, and perfectly normal. Also, momma knew about the rings and though that they were "precious". A few months later momma went into labor and brought my brother into the world. He was funny looking at first, but he got cuter pretty quick. Momma was even more occupied with him now that he was on the outside and he needed her all the time. Daddy was so patient, always telling her to do whatever she needed, take naps with the baby, not worry about him or me too much. Together we started watching some food shows and he let me help him practice cooking, so that we could make dinner and let momma rest more. Not that she was asleep all the time or anything, but Finn (that was my brother) didn't seem to want to go to bed and stay asleep like the rest of us, so she was on his schedule. She still made time for us all, and we went out as a family, and to church together, and hosted potlucks after. Pretty much this is how it was for years. Daddy prayed with me, touching me and rubbing me, every night, unless he had to be away or I had a friend sleep over. He said it was ok to miss those nights, as long as we both said a silent prayer still. Sometimes the prayers were quick and sometimes they lasted a long time. When Finn was about two and a half and momma got pregnant again. This time they said it was going to be a sister. Finn was too young still to be excited or really understand, but I was thrilled. I would dress her up and play with her and help momma with her since I was older now. But that night, after I found out, when daddy was finished praying with me, I burst in to tears. "Now darlin', what's wrong?," he asked, hugging me to him. It was hard to talk, but in gulping spurts I managed to convey my worry that my little sister would get prayer time with him and he'd forget about our time. "Oh never ever ever. You're my big girl and we made a promise to each other. Your little sister will be much too little for this for many years. When she's older, you can help me with her and we can pray together. How's that sound?" he asked. I nodded my head but really wasn't sure how I felt yet about sharing. But I knew sharing was the Christian thing to do so I agreed, of course. Around when my sister Susana was born, daddy gave me a new ring because mine had gotten too small for me. He said we'd keep the old one for Su. My new ring had a tiny speck of diamond in it and I loved it more than anything. Not long after that, I got in trouble at school for the first time. I'd refused to let one of my friends wear my special ring for the day, and she had pushed me, so I pushed her back and she fell and hit her head. The teacher sent us both to the principal's office. Daddy came to pick me up from school and took me straight to his study. "Now, I understand that you didn't want to take off your ring, and you shouldn't take it off. Sharing is good but that ring is important and not meant to be loaned out like a trinket. But, you should not have pushed her, whether she did it first or not." I was crying a little as he lectured me, mainly sad I'd disappointed him. "I'm going to punish you, and then we'll pray," he said, going to the closet and coming back with a wooden object. It was about a foot long and three or four inches across, with a handle that made it about another six inches longer. The handle was slim and it was all highly polished and smooth looking. He sat on his couch and pulled me into his lap face down, my head resting on one side of him and my legs the other. He stuck a throw pillow under my face and told me to bite it if I needed to, but not to make a sound. He roughly pulled up my skirt and pulled my panties down to my knees, exposing my bottom. He nudged me so I was on my knees more, my bottom up in the air a bit and my private place exposed. I felt the cool air the paddle made against me there the moment before it hit my bottom. There were more swings of the paddle, maybe a dozen all together, stinging and horrible, and then I felt his hand rubbing my warm bottom. I had almost bitten a hole in the pillow and my face was wet with tears. His hand moved down a bit and touched me where we prayed. I could feel I was wet when he touched me, like I got during prayer. He laughed a little and rubbed his fingers around my entrance, spreading the wetness. "I guess you must be feeling very repentant. Stay just like this and we'll pray." The next thing I felt wasn't his fingers like normal, and I didn't notice the spicy smell of the holy oil. I just felt something cool and smooth pushing into me. It was bigger than his finger, maybe like two of them, but it wasn't his hand at all. I looked over my shoulder and saw him using the handle of the paddle to enter me. His face was twisted and red and he started using it faster and harder. It was hurting a little bit when he went deep so I bit the pillow some more and waited for him to be done. This didn't feel like our normal prayers at all. I was so relieved when he pulled it out but I immediately felt it pushing at me again, but this time between my bottom. "Daddy!" I yelped at him as I felt it stretch me and go in. He just smacked my already sore bottom and pushed more. This time it really hurt and I buried my head down in the pillow wondering what he was doing. Why would he stick anything in my bottom? Was this still the punishment or a new prayer? While the paddle was wet from being inside me, that didn't help but so much as he kept pushing more and more of it into my butt. I was crying and trying not to move or make much noise, but it hurt so badly. It was like a knife in me, and then he started to move it in and out, like he had before. Every stroke was agony, but he started touching me where it always felt good and soon I felt like I was not even there. Like I was watching it from a distance. Eventually my body clenched and I felt myself tighten around the wooden handle, even though it still hurt a lot. He pulled it out, put me on my feet, pulled up my panties, and told me to go start dinner. Chapter 2, when the inspiration next strikes.